A convoy of airborne carriages left Canterlot just after dawn.
Inside their barred windows huddled black figures bound in magic-nullifying manacles, enchanted by the Princess herself. Armored pegasus escorts surrounded the transports and passed the long hours of flight sneaking glimpses of their prisoners, speculating to one another about how long they'd been present in Canterlot and how the princess had captured them. Surely their discovery so close to the end of the war was no coincidence; was it possible that they had had some hoof in the dragon attacks? If so, Celestia had shown unmatched mercy by commuting their executions. The guards could not hear what words passed between their captives, if any, but they knew there were no thanks offered to the princess for sparing their wretched lives. Vermin did not show gratitude.
Back at home, Canterlot celebrated the end of the dragon wars. Word had circulated that wounded dragons were fleeing the northern caves and dispersing and that the very same wyrm that had scorched the length of Equestria had been found dead deep in their lair. No pony could confirm exactly how the deed had been done or by whom, but many offered toasts to Celestia's name, as she was known to have visited the cave just prior to the news. Few understood the magic their princess wielded, but surely only the pony who commanded night and day could have triumphed against an entire den of dragons.
Before long, artisans across Equestria would begin new tapestries of their princess defeating Zhuyin with a single mighty spell.
Canterlot castle opened its gates to all citizens. The princess hosted a gathering celebrating Equestria's bright future and commemorating those who would never see it. The royal kitchens overflowed with food and drink to service the multitude. The richest and poorest of Canterlot mingled in dance and song as they at long last succumbed to joy. The evening's festivities paused only when Celestia herself arrived to put the Sun to bed and lift up the Moon to light the night. She acknowledged the crowd with her thanks for their continuing support, then ordered the party resumed at renewed intensity.
Celestia did not, however, join the crowd. Instead, she quietly excused herself and trudged down one of the still private castle hallways. She had made it only a few steps before a voice called out to her from behind.
"Your Highness," said Jet Stream, "may I have a word?"
Had any other pony asked the same, Celestia might have refused, but she sensed that Jet Stream was one of the few ponies she could trust right now not to shower her with praise.
"Of course," she replied, facing him as he approached.
"I apologize for disturbing you, but Your Highness has been . . . scarce, lately."
"There's no need to apologize," she assured him. "I have been very busy."
Jet Stream was wearing the uniform and decorations which marked him as General of the Wonderbolts, but his face reflected none of the pride they exuded. "Princess, I want to ask you about your last encounter with the dragons."
"If you're looking for new anti-dragon tactics, I'm sorry I have none to offer."
"Nothing like that, Princess. It's only that, just before the changelings revealed themselves at the council meeting, you mentioned that the heir to the dragons was 'lost to them.' What did you mean by that?"
An internal debate held Celestia's tongue for a moment. "Come with me, General."
She led him down the byzantine tunnels to the lower catacombs, treading what was for her a familiar path. Jet Stream, who had seldom ventured into the tunnels and never this far, marveled at how much of the castle he, one of Equestria's highest ranked leaders, had never seen.
Celestia stopped in front of a closed door. "Before I open this door, Jet Stream, I must have your word that you will not speak of what you see here."
"You have it," he replied. Celestia opened the portal and ushered him inside.
The warmth emanating from the center of the room chased a chill down Jet Stream's spine. He could not see what the field of heat surrounded until the princess illuminated the room with her horn.
"You stole the egg?" he exclaimed, his voice fraught with alarm. "But won't the dragons come looking for it?"
"They don't know we have it. Cocoon and I stole it without ever being seen."
Her words did little to calm him. "But you exiled Cocoon. What if she tells the dragons what you've done? Or where to find their heir?"
"She won't," said Celestia. "The changelings fear a united dragon clan as much as we do. And, as Rye Smile pointed out, the last thing they want is the end of Equestria. They need the Sun and Moon as much as we need them, in fact because we need them. Changelings wouldn't survive in a world without ponies."
"But they'll have to live without us, now. They'll be hundreds of miles from here by the time they're released."
Celestia winced at an uncomfortable thought, but recovered after a moment's thought. "They are a determined race. I have no doubt that they'll be back."
Jet Stream was unsure from her tone if she had meant that as a comfort or a caution. He returned to his original thought. "Why keep the egg at all, though? Why not smash it now and prevent the heir from ever reuniting dragonkind?"
"Whatever the actions of its parents, the creature in that egg has done nothing wrong. I hope, one day, it will hatch, and come to value the friendship of ponies."
"I admit, Princess, I find it hard to imagine you raising a baby dragon in Canterlot Castle."
"I do, too. I will likely entrust another with the task, somepony with whom it can learn friendship without the distractions of royal duties. But that is a distant task; I don't expect the egg to hatch for many years."
The princess exited the chamber, and Jet Stream tore himself away from the egg and followed. Only the clop of their hoofsteps interrupted the silence for the duration of the walk out of the catacombs. Jet Stream took note of every door they passed and tried to envision what other secrets might rest behind them. Perhaps only the princess knew.
When they emerged into the decorated hallways of the castle's first floor, the princess addressed him once more. "I must excuse myself to retire for the night. Please enjoy the festivities, General."
"Of course, Your Highness. I will." In truth, he was certain he wouldn't.
The princess turned to leave, then stopped herself. "One more thing, Jet Stream."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Has there been any news from the investigation?"
"No, Highness. None of the changeling's assumed identities were native to Canterlot. So far, it's possible that they were invented, not stolen."
"I see," she replied, her focus distant. Her eyes returned to him. "Good, then. Thank you for keeping me informed. Good night."
"Good night, Your Highness."
Jet Stream meandered back to the crowd and through it. He passed ponies as they danced with cider in hoof and shouted toasts to whatever came to mind. He saw more smiles in one place than he had since the dragons had first requested dialogue. He felt strange not to have a smile of his own.
After all, he'd gotten everything he wanted. Equestria was safe from internal and external threats. He'd finally received permission and resources to build his dream project, the Wonderbolt Academy, whose first graduates had been instrumental in the reconnaissance and relief efforts. He should have been jovial, ecstatic even, but a shadow hung over him all the same.
The war was over, but he didn't feel like anypony had won. His efforts had not spared the kingdom of casualties; when the party was over, Equestria would return to the long process of mourning and reconstruction. The changelings, banished as they were, would have to struggle for survival. The dragons might never reunite, certainly not on any equine timescale.
The pins on his collar and chest felt heavy. He politely declined a mug of cider and pushed through the crowds to the castle gates. He would fly back to Cloudsdale in the morning, he decided, but, for now, he would find an open room somewhere far away from the clamor. He took one last look up at Canterlot Castle and set off.
Viewing from below as he did, he could not see the lonely alicorn draped across her balcony, laying beside her crown and whispering confessions in the moonlight's embrace.