Princess Celestia smiled and drank deeply from her wine glass, relishing the homely, festive atmosphere of the Sparkle household. Fire crackled in the hearth as the family talked, laughed, and danced in the large dining room. She lowered her glass, looked down at Twilight by her side, and dared a tiny burp. The resulting giggle was worth the embarrassment.
The ponies gathered around the table only gave her a cursory glance, and for that, Celestia was glad. She tried to remember the last time she’d burped. She couldn’t. She burped once again to compensate.
The background noise of chatter, chuckling and clinking cutlery thrummed in Celestia’s ears, and set her mind at ease. When she’d heard the words “Meet my parents”, Celestia had imagined awkwardly sharing tea with two disapproving glares stabbing at her like daggers while two grave ponies prattled on and on and on.
And as much as she loved tea, Celestia wasn’t quite sure that even a thousand years would have prepared her for such an experience.
But instead, here she was, sitting around a table with Twilight Sparkle, the love of her many lives, grinning sheepishly and oh-so-adorably by her right, and Twilight’s increasingly-tipsy father – who was regaling her with the story of how he’d caught his son lying in bed with a particular magazine in his hooves one night – on her left. It was like an odd dream she’d had after one too many bottles of liquor, albeit with not quite as many cakes.
“Are you enjoying the wine, Your Highness?” Twilight’s mother asked, looking away from her conversation with Princess Cadance. Celestia looked at her, and a name drifted to the front of her mind. Twilight Velvet, that was it. Pretty name. She could understand why she’d name her daughter in a similar way.
“Oh, yes, indeed, Mrs Velvet.” Celestia smiled indulgently. “And please. Call me Celestia. All my friends do.” Velvet’s eyes widened for a moment, before the two mares shared in a small laugh.
Celestia liked laughing. She wished she did it more often.
Celestia caught her niece looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and she noticed something odd in the way she stared at her. She was confused for just a moment, until Twilight Velvet turned back to face her new daughter-in-law and said, loudly and without shame, “So, Cadance. Any news on those foals?”
It took all of Celestia’s restraint to stop herself from laughing to tears. Instead, she just hid her mile-wide grin behind her glass, and watched Cadance’s well-meaning smile crack and splinter under Velvet’s assault.
“Celestia?” Twilight asked. Celestia perked her ears as she closed her eyes and drank in the atmosphere. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Celestia said, after a moment. Twilight waited politely, and inevitably Celestia turned to her and repeated, “Yes, I am alright. Better than alright.”
Twilight smiled, and brought her head in to nuzzle Celestia tenderly. “I’m glad,” she said softly. Celestia grinned, and pecked Twilight on her delightfully sensitive horn, revelling in the squeak that followed.
“Really, Twilight. You should relax a little. Weren’t you the one who wanted me to come?” Celestia munched on a piece of lettuce while a flustered Twilight regained her composure.
“Well, yeah, but,” Twilight said, hesitating briefly, then, “I didn’t really think you’d be this comfortable.”
Celestia snorted. “I haven’t been to a gathering like this in centuries, dear. Surely one can excuse an old mare trying to rediscover the prime of her life for just one night?”
Twilight balked. “In centuries? But–” Celestia nodded towards the bottle of wine next to Twilight, and she paused as she passed it across, “–I thought there were lots of parties in Canterlot. You know, like the Grand Galloping Gala.”
Celestia’s deadpan look could, at that very moment, have made a volcano politely cease erupting.
“Okay,” Twilight said, “Bad example. But, still. That can’t be the only celebration you’ve attended.”
“True.” Celestia refilled her glass, which seemed to have emptied when she wasn’t paying attention. “But sadly, the Grand Galloping Gala is about as exciting as parties tend to get – at least, for me, it is.”
Twilight tilted her head, bawking slightly in surprise. “B-but,” she stuttered, “The Summer Sun Celebration! Hearth’s Warming Eve! Heck, what about your birthday?!”
Celestia chewed on her food slowly and deliberately, and she swallowed audibly. “Well,” she said, “The Summer Sun Celebration is usually hours of preparation and watching everyone else party, while I pretend to be the centerpiece. Hearth’s Warming Eve is actually quite nice, if you haven’t seen the same play well over a thousand times. After that, it’s usually just greeting everyone and sneaking in quick naps when you’re sure nopony’s looking.” Her voice grew louder as she spoke, until she rivalled the collective noise of the party at large in volume. “And my birthday? Pfft. I can’t tell you how much I–”
The crack and tinkling smash of her wineglass interrupted Celestia mid-sentence. The festivities came to a stop as heads swivelled around to stare at the blinking princess.
“Aheh.” Celestia put on a smile. “Woops.” Her horn flashed, and the glass reformed in an instant. The gathered Sparkles chuckled good-naturedly, and the numerous ongoing conversations continued as if nothing had happened. Celestia relaxed, turning to the mute Twilight by her side. “I can’t tell you how much I envy you, my dear Twilight,” she said again, quieter this time. “How much I envy you and all the ponies in this room.”
Twilight didn’t say anything. She just looked at her and waited for her to explain herself.
“I don’t really have a birthday, in actuality,” Celestia said. “Or at least, I don’t remember what day it’s on, if I ever had one in the first place. The ‘official’ date is mostly for ceremonial reasons – lots of gifts for the sake of currying favour, more than anything.” Celestia allowed herself a sigh. “Oh well. Such is the life of Princess Celestia ex Equestria. Maybe I should write an autobiography.”
For some reason, that thought made Celestia giggle uncontrollably, and she silenced herself with more wine. She swallowed it with a deliberate gulp, peering down into her reflection and relishing the taste. It was sinfully perfect.
Celestia’s ears perked, and she looked up from her idle musings. Twilight Sparkle was oddly quiet. Celestia didn’t like that. Celestia liked the sound of Twilight’s voice. It was high-spirited and cheerful and filled with that wonderful curiosity that Celestia envied.
It was about halfway through this train of thought that Celestia realised she was drunk to all hell. She considered her now-empty wineglass blankly, before setting it on the table and turning to the alicorn beside her. “Twilight,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m more than used to it by this point. I’d say this party is more than enough excitement for a century or two.” She laughed good-naturedly, broken up with the odd hiccup as the alcohol took effect. “Now, what was it you were–”
“Do you have any family?” Twilight asked. It took Celestia’s mind a belaboured second or two to catch up with the sudden shift in topic.
Celestia blinked once, twice, then thought. “Well, I have Luna, as I’m sure you’re aware. And I wouldn’t have her if it wasn’t for you and your friends.” Celestia looked at Twilight, expecting a bashful grin or a cute little blush for the comment, and receiving naught but a blank stare. Ah. So that’s how this is going to be. “Other than that, there’s Cadance, and, by extension, this delightful bunch!” Celestia swept a wing, gesturing at the numerous members of the Sparkle clan that were currently partying on obliviously. “And, uh…”
Celestia trailed off, her jaw clicking open and closed as the words failed to come to her rescue. Her family. Her family. Her family.
“...All of the ponies in Equestria, of course.” Celestia painted on another boilerplate smile. “Yes, all of my little ponies are my family, Twilight. I’d have thought you’d have guessed that by now.”
Even as she said it – even as drunk as she was – Celestia knew that Twilight wasn’t going to buy it. She wasn’t lying, per se, oh no, but it was a dishonest answer all the same. It may have fooled a foal, but a foal Twilight Sparkle was not.
Twilight frowned ever-so-slightly, and Celestia winced. “Celestia, I was asking if you had any family. I understand that Luna is your sister, but…” The sounds of the party faded into the background even as Twilight’s lips moved. “What about your parents?”
Celestia dreaded the sound of those words. There was a history behind them that she had allowed to fade away into the mists of time, and she would rather it would stay there, if she were being perfectly honest.
In response, Celestia picked up the bottle of wine and began to chug it down. The gathered ponies saw her necking the vintage as if it were pure ambrosia, and began to beat their hooves against the floorboards with laughter and a chorus of “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
As the last few drops of the golden liquid vanished down her gullet and the chant broke into an uproarious drunken cheer, Celestia replaced the now-empty bottle and belched loudly in victory. There was a small bout of cheerful laughter, before Twilight’s father – Celestia couldn’t even begin to remember that one – stood precariously on his seat, ringing his glass with a teaspoon for attention.
“Alright!” he began. “So, I think we can all agree that – Shining, stop playing with Cadance and listen, mister – I think we can all agree that – Hic! – that this has been the best…”
Celestia didn’t hear any of the words that followed. She rubbed her temples with her hooves and fought to maintain a coherent thought against the clouding entropy of the alcohol burning its way through her system. She turned to see Twilight still staring at her, with what seemed like pity in her eyes. Celestia was too tired and too drunk to be angry about it – she deserved it, if anything.
She mouthed to Twilight. “When we’re alone.” Twilight looked at her skeptically. “I promise.” Gradually, the frown left her pretty little face, and Celestia was both relieved and absolutely dreading the inevitable conversation they’d be having later.
She felt the prickling needles of Twilight’s gaze relax for a moment as she turned to watch Night Light – yes, that was it – regale them with the ever-so-long and ever-so-interesting history of the Sparkle family. She tuned back in for a moment. She got the impression that Mr Light may have been embellishing slightly. There weren’t any Sparkles present at the Battle of Stalliongrad, as far as she knew, and they certainly weren’t riding a dragon into battle with the evil Gryphon Emperor.
“...But enough of that! We all know what the real highlight of this evening is.” Night Light swept a hoof towards the corner where Celestia and Twilight just so happened to be sitting. “My beloved daughter, Twilight, and her rather special new marefriend, a little filly by the name of Princess Celestia!"
Celestia blinked, and looked behind her for a second, before realising that yes, she was indeed Twilight’s special new marefriend. A wave of applause, cheering, and catcalls crashed against her sensitive ears, making her wince for a moment before she grinned and kissed a fiercely blushing Twilight right on the nose, inviting yet another round of drunken hurrahs.
The rest of the party passed by in a blur, for Celestia. Even just thinking of the incoming conversation seemed to make time move faster. Before she knew it, the assorted relatives were trickling out the door as the celebration wound down, empty plates and bottles and glasses forming precariously leaning towers on the tabletop.
Cadance and Shining Armour, the latter of whom was spotted all over with lipstick, disappeared up the stairs, giggling mischievously as they shared a whispered conversation. Night Light lay passed out in the living room, a lampshade sitting proudly atop his head like a victor’s crown, and Twilight Velvet – who looked just as prim and tidy as she had when the party had begun – was picking her way through the No Man’s Land of the litter-strewn floorboards towards the alicorn couple. Celestia turned to look down at Twilight, who was leaning against her, snoozing lightly. Celestia wrapped a wing clumsily around her.
Velvet cleared her throat next to them. “So, Your Highness, will you be, ah…” She trailed off as she noticed the sleeping alicorn, then continued in a whisper, “Will you be wanting to stay the night, Celestia?”
Celestia just nodded, watching Twilight snore gently.
“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” Velvet cooed.
“Yes.” Celestia smiled. “Yes, she is.”
“So, let me get this straight: you have parents, and you never once mentioned them before?”
Celestia groaned. It was even worse than she’d feared. Yes, having to drag up this piece of her past was painful enough, but having to constantly repeat it to a dumbfounded and extremely curious Twilight Sparkle while also nursing a godlike headache was very much the opposite of pleasant.
“Yes, Twilight. I have parents, and I have not told anypony of them.” Celestia munched dryly on a bowl of cornflakes. She’d asked Velvet if they had sugar to put on them, and had been disproportionately disappointed to find out that no, they did not.
“Ever?” Twilight, on the other hand, had abandoned her own cereal in order to lean across the kitchen table and bombard her marefriend with incredibly personal and embarrassing questions.
“Ever.”
“Why?”
“Because nopony asked.”
“That’s not an answer.”
"That's not a question."
“Are they alicorns?”
“No.”
“Are they unicorns?”
“No.”
“Are they ponies?”
Celestia took another bite of cereal.
Twilight gasped. “They’re not… They’re not draconequui, are they?”
“No.”
“No, they are, or no, they aren’t?”
“Twilight!” Celestia was torn between shouting and laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and settled on a long, drawn-out ‘graaaaaagh’ of frustration that eventually wound down into a long, drawn-out sigh. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
Twilight settled back into her seat. “Until you start being honest with me.” She sniffed haughtily, trying not to smile.
“I see,” Celestia said. “So a mare is no longer allowed to keep her secrets?”
Twilight pointed her spoon at Celestia accusingly. “Hey, you promised!”
Celestia raised her own spoon, and pushed Twilight’s away with it. “I do believe that I meant, specifically, when we were alone.”
“Bah.” Twilight poked at her soggy cornflakes. “We are alone.”
Celestia looked around at the Sparkle household. It was true that, save for the litter that remained strewn across the floor, there was no-one else within earshot. Twilight Velvet had gone off to the market for groceries and medicine, while Night Light was sleeping off a prodigious hangover. She didn’t really want to think about what Cadance and Shining Armour might be doing, but they probably weren’t going to bother them for a while either.
“Alright, Twilight,” Celestia relented. “I didn’t mention my parents because they aren’t worth mentioning.”
“Not worth mentioning?” Twilight said, “Um, they’re only the parents of the two most important individuals in the world. You know, who might have an enormous store of untapped knowledge.”
“Possibly. But ponies would never be able to find them, not if they didn’t want them to, anyway. They have their ways.”
Twilight rested her head on her hooves and looked up at Celestia with wide, attentive eyes. “So what’re they like?”
“Ordinary,” Celestia replied, with a clipped, even tone. “The most boring and most ordinary beings on the planet. There is more interesting conversation to be gleaned from a rock than them.”
“Oh, come on.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Now you’re just making stuff up.”
“In a way,” Celestia said, smirking despite herself. “You asked me what they were like, and that is what they are.”
The smile slid off Twilight’s face. “You know, if you don’t want me to meet them, you could just say so.”
“I do not want you to meet my parents, Twilight. That is the truth. I…” Celestia looked at her marefriend, and spotted the beginnings of what seemed to be tears in her eyes. “But… I suppose that…” Celestia sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you, dear?”
No response, just quiet sniffles.
Light save me. Celestia let out a long sigh. “Alright, Twilight. I’ll take you to meet my parents.”
“Yes!” Celestia oof’d as a purple missile flew across the table and crashed into her. “Yesyesyesyes–”
It was about then that Twilight was cut short by the realisation that, in the throes of her Yes Dance, she had knocked over both their bowls, and that milk was now dripping from her coat and the tablecloth.
Twilight wasn’t sure what to expect when they left the Sparkle household that day. Celestia, as always, was being vague and muted, which frustrated Twilight to no end. She’d certainly gotten used to it, mind you, but it didn’t stop her from getting rather reasonably frustrated when her enquiries were turned aside by a strained smile and polite words.
Oh well, Twilight thought, she did agree to introduce me to her parents. She couldn’t help herself – she squee’d and bounced alongside Celestia as they walked through the streets of Canterlot. Celestia looked at her oddly and smiled on occasion, but otherwise she stared forward, worrying at her lower lip ever-so-slightly for the entirety of the short walk to the gates of Canterlot.
Twilight wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. She remembered Celestia scribbling a message on a piece of parchment and evaporating it with the messenger flame spell.
And then, they were there.
Twilight blinked. She looked down at her hooves – the pavement of Canterlot had, at some point, been replaced with a dirt road, old and well-trodden. She looked back where they came. The road trailed off through a valley, with Canterlot mountain quite clearly visible in the distance. She could see two sets of hoofprints, one of which seemed to be hers. She looked to her right, and there was Celestia, which was relieving to say the least – at that point, she’d been half-expecting to be walking alongside somepony she’d never met before, which would have been rather terrifying.
As it was, Celestia looked about as uncomfortable as Twilight felt.
Twilight faced forward, and blinked. She didn’t really know what she was expecting to see there, but a decrepit old farmhouse – while not surprising, per se – certainly caught her off-guard somewhat.
Twilight stopped. “Celestia?” she asked, “Where are we?”
Celestia walked on for a moment, before she too stopped and turned. “We are at my parents’ home, Twilight,” she replied. “As you requested.”
“Oh. Well, see, this is gonna sound weird but I uh…” Twilight hesitated. “I don’t remember walking here.”
Celestia looked at her, then back where they came. “Oh,” she said, with dull surprise. “Right, perhaps I should have mentioned that.”
“Mentioned what?”
“Nopony ever remembers coming to my parents’ home,” Celestia said simply.
Twilight heard it, nodded in acknowledgement of it, but still didn’t quite comprehend it. She walked on in silence, deciding that she had drank one too many bottles of liquor, and was suffering from a particularly odd dream.
The farmhouse looked, if it were possible, even less impressive up close. It wasn’t quite as old as Twilight had first thought, but it still wasn’t new enough to look particularly cosy. Twilight tried to come up with a word for how uninteresting it was, and found herself lacking. Twilight didn’t quite seem capable of picking apart any one defining feature of it – it was simply there.
A few steps from the entrance, Celestia stopped, holding out a hoof to her side to bar Twilight’s path. “A few words before we go inside,” Celestia said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “Please do try to remain polite. They are rather… old-fashioned, I suppose. They should be amicable enough. And, uh…” Celestia faltered. “I… We didn’t quite part on good terms last time I was here. They may ask you some personal questions. If you ever want to leave, just prod me, and we’ll go and never come back.”
Celestia stopped, and looked down at her marefriend – She was trembling, biting her lip feverishly. “Are you alright, Twilight?”
Twilight blinked, and waved her hooves in a placating gesture. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay! This is all just… a little much for me? I dunno. I’m a little nervous, is all.”
“We can go back, if you wa–”
“No!” Twilight stamped her hoof. “No. We’re going to meet your parents, and we are going to be fine. Then we can go back to Canterlot with the full knowledge that we have your parents’ blessing.”
Celestia looked at her oddly on that last word, but let it go after a moment and smiled. “Okay, Twilight. You’re right.” She leaned down and kissed her chastely. “Let’s do this.”
The two walked up to the door side-by-side, whereupon Twilight breathed in, brushed her mane with a hoof, shot Celestia one last anxious smile, and then knocked on the door three times smartly.
The silence was deafening. Twilight felt her newfound resolve crumble into anxiety, into fear, into confusion, and eventually anger, before the door opened with a drawn-out creak.
A stallion poked his head out from behind the door. He took in the two mares standing on his doorstep, then smiled. “Hello, Celestia,” he said.
“Greetings, Father,” Celestia replied.
Twilight watched the grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the living room of the old farmhouse. At first glance, it wasn’t a particularly interesting clock – very old, perhaps, and astoundingly well-kept, but otherwise unremarkable. The pendulum, however, swung far slower than it had any right to.
And that, in itself, summed up Celestia’s parents’ home quite succinctly. Upon entering the cottage, the couple had been led down a narrow, hunched corridor into a cramped living room, where they had exchanged polite – if rather terse – greetings. Twilight sat in her armchair and fidgeted idly as she glanced around the room. The kitchen was visible from where she sat, and she could see the rear view of a mare tending the stove.
Twilight looked over to Celestia’s father – he and Celestia were in the middle of a staring contest, both smiling politely in silence. Twilight flicked an ear – something seemed off. Maybe it was the way his expression hadn’t shifted from mild amusement in the few minutes that she’d known him. Maybe it was the way his eyes were so dark that they seemed almost black.
The most troubling thing was Tia’s eyes, though, Twilight thought. They looked just as infinite as her father’s, right then and there, on her family’s couch.
“So!” Twilight said, stretching her face into a nervous grin. “Your house is lovely, Mr…?”
Those dark eyes calmly swept towards her, unblinking. “This one is delighted that you think so, Twilight,” he said. “Oh, and call this one Father, if you so choose. Everybody else does, after all.”
Twilight blinked once, then smiled. “You’re welcome… Uh. Father.” Saying it felt just as uncomfortable as she feared it would be, but ‘Father’ just nodded serenely, that same smile on his face.
Twilight tried to ignore the pointed look Celestia was shooting her as she hazarded another question. “So, what do you and your wife do? Farmers, by any chance?”
Father chuckled warmly. “Yes, this one supposes they are, in a way. They tend their land, and they protect it from things that would tamper with it. Though, this one prefers to think of them as shepherds, if anything.”
Twilight opened her mouth, but, without warning, Celestia cut her off. “It is quite delightful to see you again, Father. How long has it been since last I came here?” Celestia asked, tilting her head and smiling thinly.
Twilight frowned, but said nothing. Yes, there was definitely something off about this. She looked at Celestia, contemplated her words, realised just how formal they’d sounded. The princess was a stickler for proper decorum, where appropriate of course, but she’d always upheld it with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
Certainly, she’d never behaved so… properly, Twilight supposed.
Father’s smile widened slightly, and the temperature dropped a fraction of a degree. “How long has it been? Hmm.” He stroked his chin for a moment, before calling out over his shoulder. “How many years now?”
There was a shuffle of movement in the kitchen, before a mare stepped out into the living room, two cups of tea floating in the air behind her. “Oh, this one thinks it has been about a thousand or so by now, Father.”
Father hummed. “Is that so? How time does fly.”
Trying to ignore the fact that there was no magic aura surrounding the floating mugs, Twilight accepted her tea with a smile.
Celestia did not. “Well, it’s heartening to see that you two haven’t changed one iota since we last met.”
The mare – Twilight preemptively decided to name her ‘Mother’ – wore the same smile as her husband. “Oh, really? This one has actually changed her look, just for your visit. You didn’t notice?” The mare did a little twirl, shooting Celestia that same knowing smile.
Celestia just ground her teeth. “Yes. Right.”
Mother chuckled briefly, and made to sit down in another empty armchair. Twilight took the opportunity to examine her closely. She looked…
Well. Twilight couldn’t really describe her – literally. She was definitely a pony, of course, but whenever she focused on a specific feature, it would become blurry and indistinct, and the moment she looked away, it was forgotten.
Twilight’s frown deepened. She looked at Father, really looked at him, and once again, she found herself struggling to tell what he really looked like. He just seemed like a moderately handsome pony, with those odd black eyes of his.
Twilight forced the sudden trepidation down into her gut. No, she told herself, you will not ruin this first impression due to some sneaking suspicion of yours. And not exactly a trustworthy sneaking suspicion either – Twilight didn’t particularly have a good track record with them, it seemed.
Although…
Twilight swallowed. There had been that one time when her suspicions had turned out to be true. That one time when that feeling in her gut had saved her friends and the rest of Equestria from certain ruination.
After a moment of thought, Twilight tentatively pushed away the notion. But kept it on file, just in case. She tuned back into the conversation and listened to the familiar patterns of idle smalltalk. Celestia and her parents were talking quietly. Twilight could practically feel the eons of nostalgia that they were dragging up from the depths of their memories.
“Changelings, you say? Interesting. The name is familiar, certainly.” Father deliberated for a moment, then turned to his wife. “There’s a name on the tip of this one’s tongue… Chrysalis, correct?”
Mother’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as realisation dawned. “Oh, of course. Yes, she was very intriguing, wasn’t she?” She sighed. “Shame. She had the potential to be the most revolutionary princess we’d ever known. Alas, as with all mortals, she just couldn’t handle the change.” Mother turned, then, and looked directly at Twilight, tilting her head curiously. “And yet, here is a mortal-turned-alicorn, sitting before these ones. You are a curiosity, now, aren’t you?”
Twilight felt the two ponies’ gazes drilling into her. There was a certain depth to their stares that seemed to peel away her skin and stare straight through her. Twilight shuffled across and wrapped her hoof around Celestia’s as they examined her. Celestia, in turn, wrapped a great white wing around the little alicorn, and cleared her throat brusquely. The two ponies blinked, and the tension drained out of the room.
“I would prefer it if you would refrain from doing that,” Celestia said, in a clipped tone. Twilight could feel the anger coming off her in waves.
Father just smiled, and shook his head condescendingly. “Now, now, Celestia. No need to get upset. This one was just curious about your pony, is all.”
“Lover, Father. She’s my lover.”
Her parents blinked again, slowly, as Celestia’s declaration sank in. Their faces twisted into something vaguely resembling disbelief. “Your lover, Celestia?” Mother asked. “This is… new.”
Celestia smiled ruefully, with a tinge of distinct satisfaction. “My sincerest apologies for not informing you in advance,” she said, not even trying to sound apologetic. “But I was rather busy. Ruler of Equestria, and all that.”
Twilight squirmed. This was only supposed to be a little get-together. Wasn't it? She wasn’t sure anymore. She felt more like a piece of meat, fought over by a pair of tenacious wolves. Celestia looked down at her, and the fire in her eyes waned ever-so-slightly.
If her parents noticed Twilight's distress, they showed no sign of it. "Ah, yes, of course." Father said. "And how is that working out for you, now that you have... Twilight here to help you?"
“Oh, it’s going fine. Twilight here is rather new to the fold – right now, she’s too busy saving Equestria to join me in Canterlot to do paperwork." Celestia allowed herself a smile at Twilight’s blush. "A pity.”
Her parents exchanged a short look. Their faces remained blank save for the slightest furrow of the brow, or the slightest downturned corner of their mouths. They looked uncomfortable, and that seemed to frighten them more than anything. “...Ah,” Mother said flatly. “Saving Equestria, you say?”
And like that, Celestia’s attempts at joviality died on her lips right then and there. “Well… It’s quite an interesting story, actually,” Celestia said, racking her brains desperately for what to say. Twilight thought she looked like a filly trying to explain why she hadn’t done her homework. “I uh…”
“It was pretty silly, really,” Twilight interjected. “It was all going quite smoothly until Celestia got kidnapped by a giant plant!” She and Celestia chuckled, somewhat awkwardly. Their parents did not.
“Kidnapped by a giant plant?” Father asked, mystified.
Twilight just rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yeah, plunder plants. It was quite simple to resolve actually, but, well, you know what Discord is like–”
The temperature in the room immediately plummeted the moment the words left Twilight’s mouth. Mother and Father looked at her, their eyes widening in unnatural synchronicity.
“Discord?” Mother said. Her voice was as flat and expressionless as ever, perhaps even more so, but Twilight felt the words press down on her with the force in which she spoke them. “What does this pony speak of, Celestia?”
Celestia looked upon her parents with the same belligerence that a teenager would possess. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mother.”
Father got to his hooves with a calm, mechanical stiffness, but his eyes were two freezing black orbs that asked for respect in the same way that a king demands obedience. “Do not speak to your mother that way,” he said, simply. “And you know exactly what this pony lover of yours said. Please do explain, daughter.”
“I’d think it was quite obvious what she meant, Father,” said Celestia.
“Yes, but this one is not entirely sure they heard them correctly.”
Celestia met his gaze evenly. “I released Discord,” she said, after a terse silence.
Her parents said nothing.
“He’s changed, you know. He’s nothing like what he once was.”
“How?” Mother said sharply. “By the Elements?”
“No,” Twilight interjected. “By my friend, Fluttershy.”
The two beings looked from her to Celestia. Celestia just smiled and drank her tea.
“Why did you come here, Celestia?” Father asked, settling back into his chair with a weary sigh that drained the stiffness from his limbs. “What did you seek to gain from this visit?”
“Actually, I–” Twilight began again, but the sharp crack of a hoof snapping against the tabletop silenced her.
“Be silent, mortal.” A chill traveled down Celestia’s back as she felt some inexplicable force reach across the room and brush against her from the force of her father’s words. Distantly, she heard Twilight’s mouth click shut.
Father settled back into his chair. “This one repeats: why are you here, Celestia?”
Celestia was silent. Her eyes flickered back and forth, lost deep in thought.
She felt something move against her side, and she looked down and took in the sight of Twilight Sparkle whimpering and wide-eyed as she fought to breathe. Her pupils were tiny dots that danced around the room. Celestia whinnied softly in sympathy, and settled a great white wing around her marefriend. Her horn flickered, and – with a frown of effort – the geas snapped apart like a broken chain.
Twilight fell forwards, breathing heavily as she recovered, Celestia watching on in pained silence. Celestia’s parents didn’t notice – or care, she acknowledged numbly.
Celestia held Twilight tightly, and cleared her throat tentatively.
“I was worried, you know,” Celestia said, eventually, “About coming here, meeting you. I was afraid, even, because so much has changed. But, I was more than a little excited, too. It’s been over a thousand years now, after all – I figured that in all that time, you’d have changed, even if it was just a little bit.”
Celestia sighed, and shook her head. “But no. You haven’t changed at all, have you? Neither of you have. You’re as blind and empty as ever.”
“These ones created you, Celestia,” said Mother. “These ones watch over all mortals, because that is their purpose – because mortals are too ignorant and limited to do so themselves. If these ones were as monstrous as you seem to think they are, then why would these ones devote so much of their existence to protecting inferior beings?”
“Because you don’t.” Celestia slammed her hooves onto the tabletop. “Or at least you don’t anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Mother hissed.
“I want you to look at Twilight,” Celestia said, leaning back into her seat, “and tell her exactly what you did one thousand, five-hundred years ago.” She and her mother glared at each other for a moment, before Mother sniffed, turning to look down at Twilight impassively.
“It’s quite simple,” she began. “There was a threat to our ponies. Discord had arrived, turning the world into his plaything. It was the beginning of the Age of Chaos. So, we created two beings.” She looked pointedly at her daughter. “Two that would turn the tides.”
The fear in Twilight’s eyes slowly receded, replaced only by an innocent curiosity. “But… Why didn’t you just stop him yourselves?”
“Yes, Mother?” Celestia asked politely. “Why, indeed?”
“Again, it was a simple decision.” Mother rested her hooves atop one another as she explained. “Consider: the world is under the control of a tyrant. The simplest solution would be to depose him ourselves. But also consider the ponies themselves – they are scared, and confused, and weak. They need a symbol, a being that they can rally behind, or they’ll be right back at square one, should the tyrant be removed from the picture.”
Father shrugged. “It was the most effective solution,” he added.
“And yet,” Celestia retorted. “Over one million ponies died over the decades of war that followed. It was only when we managed to recover the Elements of Harmony that we were able to defeat him once and for all.”
Mother just looked at her with the same passiveness she always possessed. “Irrelevant. Those are mere numbers, Celestia, and you know this perfectly well. In the grander picture, this outcome was still the preferred.”
Celestia looked at them. “Mere numbers,” she repeated.
Mother nodded gravely. “No matter what you may think, Celestia, ponies have not changed. As their guardians, it is our duty to make tough decisions for the greater good.”
Twilight breathed in sharply. “But…” She hestitated. “ But what about Princess Luna?”
Three beings stopped, three beings turned their heads to look at Twilight. She glared at her lover’s parents with a strange conviction in her eyes.
“Was Princess Luna… Just a mere number to you too?” she asked.
Mother and Father said nothing.
The connections were there, Twilight realised. She just needed to change her perspective a little before it all started making sense.
“She was in so much pain, you know,” Twilight continued, too far gone now to stop. “She told me about how abandoned she felt, how utterly ashamed and alone she was. I thought she was talking about the citizens of Equestria, but that’s only part of the problem, isn’t it?”
But why would that happen? Why would they let it happen?
Twilight looked at the two beings now, in a different light. “You… You ignored her, didn’t you? You knew how much pain she was in, and you didn’t stop her.”
They didn’t look at her. The room was silent, for a long, long time, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the slow tick-tock of the grandfather clock.
Celestia got to her hooves and left the room. They heard the distant bang of the door closing behind her.
Twilight let out a long, low sigh. “This is…” She stopped. “I just wanted to meet you. Celestia told me this would end poorly, but…” Twilight got up. “Thank you for the tea. I hope I made a good impression, as mere a mortal as I am.”
“Twilight.”
Twilight, startled, looked up at the two beings sitting across from her. They looked back at her, the iron in their eyes falling into a dull flat grey. They didn’t seem quite so impressive as they did before – all Twilight could see now was two very tired, very old ponies.
“Twilight,” Father said. “This one…” He sighed. “I… Be good to her, please.”
Twilight blinked. Then she nodded softly, and retreated from the room, leaving the two ponies to their rest.
Celestia hated it. She hated it all.
The old, innocent farmhouse sat there against the backdrop of false hills and too-perfect meadows and mocked her. She wanted it all to burn, burn away like the sheltered little cocoon of lies and dishonesty that it was.
Celestia stomped a hoof into the dirt. She snorted once, then returned to pacing.
Again, she wondered what exactly she was aiming to achieve. It all just seemed so silly now – but that was how they worked, wasn’t it? They looked upon you, and you felt inferior, like a foal, like an insect. Like the dirt at their hooves.
She was sick of it. So utterly sick of it. The first time she’s seen them in centuries, bringing with her the best news she’d had in years, and again and again and again it becomes a sick farce of an argument over things so long-past and meaningless that, objectively, Celestia knew that they were just being stubborn at this point.
But it wasn’t that simple. It was never that simple. She’d heard the words they said, saw the honest truth in her eyes, and she hated them for it, hated them and their stupid perfect little bubble of infallibility for being so utterly divorced from reality, so alien to everything she knew.
It made her want to vomit. Her own sister had tortured herself, been exiled from her home for so long, and for what? Was that all just a sick game to them, too?
Celestia grunted, tears of frustration and anger and despair drying on her cheeks. She needed Twilight. She needed to hold her and smell her mane and know that there was hope.
And like that, a purple hoof bopped her on the snout, breaking her from her musings. She looked up and was greeted by the unreasonably relieving sight of Twilight Sparkle smiling – a smile aimed at her, specifically.
“Hi, Tia,” she said, “I– urk!”
Twilight was cut off as two great white wings wrapped around her and held her tight, cradling her in the warm grasp of the princess of the Sun. Twilight blinked in surprise, then relaxed, closed her eyes, and rocked gently as her favourite alicorn in the whole wide world bled one thousand years of pent-up pain onto her shoulder.
The two ponies were silent, for a time, as the sun set slowly off in the distance, and the wind blew silently through the grass atop the false hills and too-perfect meadows of the old world.
“I love them,” Celestia said. “They’re stupid and I hate them, but I love them.”
Twilight looked at her with a cocked eyebrow.
“They’re just… Argh.” Celestia gestured vaguely with a hoof. “They just… I can understand them, you know. I can see exactly why they’re like that. They never had to change. They’re like, like bedrock. The bedrock of existence as we know it.” Celestia sighed. “But despite all that, I don’t think I can forgive them. I’m sorry, Twilight, that you had to see it. Had to see me. There’s just too much history between them and me, I think.”
Twilight just smiled softly.
Celestia sniffed. “Parents are dumb."
“Yeah.” Twilight scooted closer to Celestia. She draped a lavender wing over her. “Yeah, they are.”
“Twilight Sparkle.”
Two beings, both older than the hills that they called their home, sat by the crackling fireplace and pondered the name.
“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she?” Mother said. She looked into the fire and saw past the trappings of earth and stone and into the Tapestry of All Things. “Very interesting, indeed.”
Father hummed. “Princess of Friendship. Curious.”
“She used to be a lonely mortal, you know. She spent her time studying books and things. Nary a friend to speak of.”
“And yet,” Father said. “She was able to become one with Harmony.”
The two sat in silence. The world turned, as it always had.
“I wonder if she is the one to bring our daughter back to us,” Mother said quietly.
Father hummed again. A number of words passed through his mind, but he spoke none of them.
“Maybe,” he said instead.