//------------------------------//
// Chapter 6 
// Story: The Castle Canterlot 
// by Honey Mead 
//------------------------------//


The Castle Canterlot:
Chapter 6



“They [ponies] have always fascinated me. So full of vim and vigor, not unlike ants, carrying an ever growing weight of memories as they march single-file toward Elysium. But when a leaf falls, obscuring their view, they become lost as though everything is different. Panic takes most at these times, uncertainty of action leads to rash action, or worse, inaction. That is what we are here for, my daughters, to guide them around the leaves and show them that, no matter how much the world may seem to change, Harmony does not.”


—H.R.M. Queen Faust Invictus, in conference with her daughters, Luna and Celestia (unsubstantiated).



Star dragged Chronicle through the curtains and back into the comforting smallness of his office. He remained stiff however, legs tense and quivering. She clutched him, holding his head to her chest as she leaned against the wall. Running a hoof through his mane, she whispered comforting words into his ear to calm his racing heart and strangled breaths. 
Her efforts were for naught.
The crushing weight of the sky, now hidden from view, had seized his mind in a vice of fear and refused to let go. He quaked, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the black expanse. Only a thin veil of magic, like the glass of a snowglobe, tended by the celestial bodies on the other side, surrounded the disc and separated them from what lay beyond. No matter how thick, impenetrable, or eternal it may have been, it was still just a thin sheet of paper against the endless void.
What little of his mind still functioned under that weight focused entirely one, single fact: Sol had yet to rise. 
The night sky remained, pitch, save for Selene and the myriad of stars that surrounded her.
Sol had not risen.
Princess Celestia was never late. Never. Every day she woke her charge at the appointed time, coaxing the light of the world from below the horizon to shine upon the disc.
Princess Celestia was dead.
No! She wouldn’t do that to him. Not like this. No. He needed to think. The Princess was not dead. He anchored himself to that thought. Princess Celestia was not dead. She was alive. Clinging desperately to that unimpeachable fact, he began to structure his thoughts.
Princess Celestia was de… indisposed. How, where, why: none of those mattered. What did matter was ‘What’. What would the Princess want him to do?
Calm, he heard her say. Breathe. Everything will turn out. All you have to do is calm yourself and breathe.
His chest inflated, pulling a large, shuddering breath into his lungs. The second breath came easier, and the third smooth as glass. With the fourth, his eyes opened.
“Bookkeeper?”
“I—I am al—” He shook his head. “Better. I am better.”
Star helped him to his hooves. “Do you know what is happening?”
“No,” he said, turning toward the balcony and the light that was not flowing through the drapes, “but I know who does.”



 — — — TCC — — — 



Shining’s eyes slipped from Selene back to Cadence. “Honey?”
“No,” she said again, breathless but gaining momentum. “No. No no. Nononononono!”
Taking her face in his hooves, he forced her to look at him. Years of experience had taught Shining how to identify the rising tide of a panic attack at a single glance. To his surprise, this was not one. While her breathing was shallower than normal, it lacked the constricted urgency of hyperventilation. There was certainly an amount of fear in her eyes, but it was not so great that she seemed on the verge of fleeing and curling into a tight ball at the same time.
“Cadie,” he said, keeping his voice steady despite his own creeping worry, “what’s wrong?” She just stared at him for a moment with a blank expression, not really seeing him at all. Shining stroked her cheek. “Cadence?”
Like the dawn that hadn’t come, Cadence’s eyes gradually lit up, coming back into focus. “They knew,” she whispered. “Both of them knew.”
She tried to pull away, but Shining held fast. Even if she weren’t the love of his life, he could not simply let her go. He was a Captain of the Guard, and she knew something about what was going on. He was about to ask what she meant when her horn ignited with a soft blue light.
“Never again.”
He barely had time to close his eyes before the distinctive crack and flash of teleportation struck his ears, burnt his eyes, and sent him reeling.
Cursing under his breath, Shining was up and galloping for the stairs in complete disregard for his damaged senses. Easily one of the tallest towers, there was only one way to go while he tried to work out where she would have gone. Not for the first time, he cursed his own lack of ability in abjuration and divination that set tracking her beyond his ken. 
Shining was not as smart as his sister, but, then again, neither were half the professors at Celestia’s school. Long before he joined the Guard, before he’d found his mark, he’d been as much a book worm as Twilight. But where Twilight went in for books on science and magic, Shining had always been fascinated by history, war, and the heroes that shaped them.
When he found his mark and realized what he wanted to do with his life, none of that had changed… merely focused. His study of history shifted to the events and processes that lead up to wars, his study of war moved to the specifics of tactics and strategies, and his idealization of heroes became a study of what to look for in others and how to spot the tremors before a fall.
That said, his—admittedly coltish—fascination with the tools of war had not diminished. One of the first things he did upon his promotion to Captain of the Sword was to visit the Royal Armoury. Like a colt in a candy shop, he’d spent hours walking through the massive collection of arms and armour stored therein—drool may or may not have been involved. It had been near the end of his one pony tour that he’d spotted the only stands hidden under thick canvas sheets. He almost managed to not lift the veils. 
The first one was divine, both literally and figuratively. Celestia’s gold and ruby barding was as much art as it was armour. But, as impressive as it was to see first-hoof, there was nothing surprising about it. Innumerable paintings and reliefs of it adorning Her Highness’ form filled the art galleries and history books to the point that, if anything, seeing it draped so lazily across the back of ponyquine was almost anticlimactic.
It had been the second set that really caught him off guard and spurred an enlightening binge of research that would have made Twily proud.
Hitting the ground floor, Shining turned right.
Galloping down the hallways was probably not his wisest move. The already on edge staff and guests were not put at ease by the sight of the well known Captain rushing hither and yawn. Later he would chide himself for it, but at that moment, Cadence was the only thing that mattered.
It took him almost five minutes to reach the Royal Armoury, the wide open doors confirming his hunch.
History, Shining Armour had learned, was not something to be studied lightly. It required a certain staunchness that most ponies could not muster. The first hurdle to be crossed was accepting that it was impossible to get the full picture. Besides the vile biases that clouded the truth like a thick layer of manure—most all the records written by unicorns—there were dishearteningly large gaps that left entire eras as blank as a newborn’s flank.
Fortunately, those gaps shrunk considerably after the War of the Sun and Moon. Not that that made finding what he’d been looking for any easier. 
Once he’d finally put it altogether, it only made his infatuation with Cadence grow—even if he’d never managed to broach the subject with her.
He found her right where he at once feared and longed to. 
At no point in Shining’s existence would he ever say that Cadence was anything shy of the most beautiful mare he’d ever laid eyes on—both out of honesty and a reasonable fear for his well-being. That being said, it took all of his considerable willpower to maintain his faculties when he turned that final corner.
Sapphires and lapis-lazulis, cut to the shape of hearts, were the anchor points for the joints. Long, feather like plates of rose and pink scale flared out from the gems. So focused was she on attaching the last of the greaves that she failed to notice his approach until he was nearly upon her.
Startled by the sound of his hooves, Cadence stiffened, her wings flaring as she rose to her full height and squared her cannons. 
Shining came to a dead stop, his jaw falling loose from his face.
She appeared as an ancient tapestry come to life. Proud, commanding, a general surveying her troops as battle raged below.
“Your Highness,” Shining said, years of training kicking in while he waged a war against his base desires.
The pure defiance of Cadence's features flashed with hurt, only to twist with disgust, as though a foul tasted had found her tongue. “Captain. I’m certain that your presence is needed elsewhere.”
As though that were enough to dismiss him, Cadence turned her attention back to her armour. Cinching the last greave into place, she draped the next piece across her withers, her magic working the straps.
Shining retreated as though slapped and stared at her with a blank expression, for all of two seconds before an amused grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Honey…” he started, waiting for her to look up from her work before continuing, “how long has it been since you wore that?”
“Be careful with your next words,” she hissed with a glare that should have sent him staggering.
A forehoof moved to cover his lips and hide the snickers that he could not contain. “Cadence… Love… Darling… that’s the croupiere. It goes on the other end.”
With delighted eyes, he watched her turn to examine the misplaced armour. He anticipated a blush, and attempt to hide embarrassment at making such a mistake, maybe even an excuse. He expected cute. What he got was her fixing the error and going straight back to work.
This was new, and that just added on to worries that had been mounting in the back of his mind. He could no longer avoid the dragon in the room. The simple act of squaring his shoulders seemed alter him entirely. Captain of the Sword, Shining Armour stared straight ahead, jaw set and tail stiff. “What is going on?”
Cadence looked at him as she thread her mane through the criniere. When she spoke, it was with the dull, distant tone of a professor reciting a particularly boring piece of literature. “On the longest day of the thousandth year, the Stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about nighttime eternal.”
It took a moment for Shining to respond. The words were distantly familiar, like something he’d heard, or read, a long time prior. Then it clicked. “The Mare in the Moon? That old mare’s tale? My mother used to read that to me before bed.”
“Did you not see Selene? You of all ponies…” Cadence’s derisive tone was like a slap across the face. “Think Shining. Assume for a moment that Nightmare Moon is real. What would that mean?”
“Nightmare Moon…” he started, only to trail off. When it clicked, it was like a the first time he’d cast his shield. “The War of the Sun and Moon!” His face lit up and he barely kept from prancing in place. “Cadie, do you realize what this means?” 
“Vividly.”
He didn’t hear her. “It explains so much! Faust!” He spun around, chasing his tail like his mind chased the train of thought. All the inconsistencies, the minor details that stuck out like the horn on his head, they all came together to reveal an intricate tapestry obfuscated behind centuries of dirt and grit. 
A pair of hooves gripped his cannons and he found himself being stared down by an armour bedecked Cadence. “What it means is that Nightmare Moon is free and Auntie has gone to fight her. Alone.”
His giddiness died. “Then why didn’t she take her armour?”
Cadence turned toward the golden armour still adorning the other ponyquine, apparently noticing it for the first time. 
"But... Why would... Oh, you arrogant, selfish, stupid mare!" 
Stomping a hoof, she released him and turned to a glass display case against the wall. 
"What? What is it?" 
Cadence turned back around, a bastard sword, nearly as long as Shining was tall, was gripped in her field. He recognized the blade immediately. 
Penumbra was not as famous as Coronal Edge—Celestia’s sword—but was no less impressive. From what he’d been able to discover, it was forged some time during The War of Sun and Moon. Despite that, its first recorded use wasn’t until years later when Cadence lead the pacification of the Crystal Valley, the eventual sight of her Crystal City.
Both the name and dark design of the blade always seemed off to him. It didn’t fit with the motif of Cadence’s armour.
She swung the swords a few times, reacquainting herself with its weight and feel. “She thinks she can save her.” At Shining’s questioning looks, Cadence sighed. “Shiny. Sweetie…” her wing brushed his cheek. “Celestia is my Aunt.”



 — — — TCC — — — 



Star Shimmer disappeared in a flash of magic, rushing off to retrieve the Revered Speaker. He’d break off his own horn if she didn’t know exactly what was going on.
Regardless, Chronicle didn’t have time to wait for the ‘Whys’ or ‘Hows’. If panic hadn’t taken the city yet, it would in short order and the Palace needed to get a bridle on things before they got out of control.
Rushing about the small office, Chronicle packed his saddlebags full of blank scrolls, ink, quills, and any documents that could possibly be needed in the coming hours. There weren’t many; there’d never been a need before.
He moved as quickly as he dared through the palace halls, only slowing to a canter when he neared a turn. He wasn’t the only one. Staff ponies rushed around like he’d never seen before, most with somewhere to go, but there were still plenty that just seemed to be in a blind panic. Only the Royal Guard maintained their detached demeanor, though the sheer number ruined whatever calming effect they may have otherwise had.
Approaching the private entrance to the Throne Room, Chronicle finally pulled to a stop. The two Royal Guards eyed him, but otherwise didn’t react. He gave himself a moment to recover. Straightening his vest and saddlebags, he forced his breaths to slow. With a nod to the guards and a dual snap of his tail, Chronicle stepped inside.
He wasn’t surprised by the raging argument that washed over him, but that didn’t make make him any calmer.
Approaching the throne as he always did, head down and left ear quivering, he took in the scene.
Almost the entire court had already assembled, a veritable herd of Equestria’s leadership and their secretaries. They were crowded together at the base of the throne, already separating into two distinct groups.
“…believe what I’m hearing!” Blackwell was saying, just shy of a shout. “We’re trying to avoid a panic, not cause one!”
“Yes, which is exactly why we need to lock the city down,” returned Snow Blind, Commandant General of the Cloud Conclave. “Without a constant, visible show of calm with which to anchor themselves, the civilians will attach to the largest herd they find. And until Sol rises again, no matter what we do, the panic will only grow.”
To Chronicle’s surprise, the room was not evenly divided. Blackwell—Quick Quill at her side—stood with less than a quarter of the Council’s support, only those few who were inexorably tied to her at her side.
Chronicle scanned the faces, ticking off an unofficial attendance roster. Besides those who had taken their holiday outside of Canterlot, everypony save Princess Cadence and Shining Armour was present. Any other time and he’d have had a private chuckle at their mutual absences. They couldn’t have picked a worse time to for a dalliance.
The two leaders continued to argue as Chronicle took his seat beside the throne and set his bags aside. He floated the collected papers out and spread them out before him. The familiar motions helped to maintain his center, a slice of normalcy in a chaotic situation. Nothing he could do would be enough to make up for the glaring absence at his side.
“…because that is what we’ll be broadcasting to everypony! The Guard is already putting every pony they can on near constant patrol. That will be more than enough to—”
A sharp whistle issued from between Chronicle’s lips, cutting Blackwell off and successfully snatching everypony’s attention. Both his ears quivered under the scrutiny, but he made a show of meeting most the their eyes.
When Chronicle finally spoke, it was with a steady confidence. “In accordance with Royal Edict seven point nine point cee, Martial Law can only be instituted by a non-member of the royal family if all members are incapacitated or otherwise incapable of issuing such an order.”
Whispers broke out amid the crowd as the two principal speakers stared at him, one with a smile of victory and the other with dogged determination. It was the latter who spoke next.
“My eyes may be mistaken, but I see no Princess here.” Chronicle started to respond, but Snow barreled right over him. “And we don’t have time to debate this.” She held up an assortment of papers between her primaries. “There are already reports of small scale disturbances. Things will only nose-dive from here!” She glanced at the gathered ponies, taking special note of the numbers behind her. “I demand an immediate vote for regency.” 
Chronicle groaned as his hoof found his forehead, and the entire Privy Council slipped back into its natural state.