Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, Element of Magic, Former Student of Princess Celestia, Former Librarian of Ponyville, Savior of Princess Luna, and multi-time protector and hero of Equestria... was eating a bagel.
It was a good bagel.
It had apple chips, raisins, cinnamon, and a smear of sweet cream butter.
Yes, it was a good bagel.
She moaned loudly as she desperately tried to combat the massive migraine that had assaulted her in the wee hours of the morning. From out of nowhere, she had been viciously yanked from slumber and subjected to this, entirely unwarranted, affront to the decency of civilized thought.
Spike had helpfully provided breakfast and a dark room, having drawn the thick drapes when he had been awoken by her groans. He was a good assistant. A good little dragon who had wisely fled the room quickly to avoid potentially upsetting her.
He would be a wise dragon someday.
"Oh Celestia, what did I do to deserve this?" Twilight moaned, bagel forgotten, as she covered her aching head with her hooves.
-~oOo~-
Several hours later, Twilight was finally able to stand the light and sound of day. She still had no idea what had given her such a migraine; she hadn't been in any world-ending battles in more than a month, and the doctors in Canterlot had assured her that the head trauma was nothing her alicorn body wouldn't heal from overnight (thank you very much Rainbow Dash), and yet she felt as if she had been beaten for hours on end by one of Sombra's cruel spells.
Whatever it had been had thankfully passed though, which meant that now she could finally get back on schedule. So much to do, so much to catch up on.
Levitating a scroll up as she trotted across one of the many empty rooms in her crystalline castle, she began to pen in adjustments to compensate for her migraine. It simply wouldn't do to let something small, like her well being, get in the way of her duties.
So focused was she in her planning that she almost missed the sound of Spike's feet as he ran up to meet her.
"Twilight! Letter from the Princess!" He shouted as he ran, the sealed scroll held before him.
Plucking the scroll from his claws, Twilight broke the seal and read as the letter floated in the soft magenta glow of her magic.
Moments later, she looked up and turned, trotting back towards her room, checklist forgotten. "Spike, something's happened and the Princesses have requested us in Canterlot. Let's get your bag ready - the train leaves in less than 20 minutes."
-~oOo~-
"Sister," Luna started before pausing to yawn, "I understand you are better versed in recent events than I, but I simply must protest this unhealthy hour. The SUN is not yet passed even two-chime."
Celestia, having closed court for the day in the wake of ... something ... had summoned her sister from slumber, something that was nearly unheard of since her return. The younger Princess was well known for her legendary capacity for slumber, having been honed over a millennium on the moon, and was notoriously difficult to rouse. So strong was her affinity for the night that it was said she had actually cat-napped through the changeling invasion... something that nopony was willing to question her about.
Privately, Celestia wondered if Luna hadn't simply watched out of a curious sense of irony. The two were, after all, known for pranking one another upon occasion.
"Sister, I know it is not a comfortable time to be up for you but I fear something terrible has happened. Just before I sent for you, I heard the most horrible thing. I would call it a scream but..." Celestia paused, considering how best to explain the cry that she had felt strongly enough to seem as a true sound. " I - I just don't know how best to describe it I'm afraid."
Luna, eyes closed as she listened, sniffed the air briefly as one of the royal caretakers approached with a steaming pot of some blessed concoction Celestia called 'coffee' before nodding slowly. "I see."
Celestia blinked. "You see?"
"Yes, sister, I see. You heard something in your bright, and might I add very shiny, day and thought that I should be informed. Thank you for your consideration. I am now returning to mine slumber."
Celestia, Diarch of Equestria, Bringer of the Sun, and All-Around-Fun-To-Have-Tea-With-Pony, watched stunned as her sister promptly drained her pot of coffee and rose... only to suddenly gag on the hot substance. She reached a hoof out to her sister, ready to offer help when Luna suddenly coughed and put a hoof to her head.
"Celestia..."
"Yes Luna? What is it? How can I help?"
"Pen a missive to your stu... to Princess Twilight. We shall be entertaining a most unusual guest of unfortunate constitution in very short order. Send for Cadence as well, though I know not if her aide shall be of any use, and prepare a set of chambers. One for boarding, the other for vale disuse once committed."
Celestia watched her sister for a moment before nodding. "Kibitz, please have such arrangements made."
And as the Royal assistant nodded and promptly trotted off to handle his Princess' request, Celestia watched as Luna sat back down upon her throne and sighed. If Luna had decided to stay awake, she must have discovered something that she, herself, had missed.
-~oOo~-
So, it was an elder god, or rather gods, that had found her. The thought brought little comfort as she continued her wretched tumble through the dark. She had faltered, had fallen to fear, and in her weakness had called out for help. Of course the Light wouldn't respond. The Light favored the bold and the helpless, and she was neither. Weakened, broken, ... frightened.... all of these things: yes.
But bold? Helpless? No.
She had done many things; things that would earn her respect and a bit of coin, but she had never done such great things on her own. She had always helped... she protected life so that when the endless fighting finally drew to a close, there would yet be those who could celebrate its passage. She was a priestess, hardly a valiant warrior or first line of defense. Hers was the task of healing from a distance, of mending wounds and harboring the sick.
Yet, neither was she helpless. She did not hide behind great walls or cower in the citadels or fortress cities like Stormwind or Orgrimmar. Her home was Lordaeron, more recently the Undercity, and while its thick stone still stood proudly, its walls crumbled and life waned in the persistent curse of undeath that afflicted all that Arthas' hand had touched. She was not helpless... before her death, she had been a seamstress, and even then she had fought when the cursed undead rose and started their march upon the living. She had fought hard, eventually barricading herself within her cottage, and had been taken not by combat, but by the plague itself. When she had risen like all the others, she had taken up arms and marched upon Silvermoon, but by then The Dark Lady had started her rebellion, and she had shaken loose her yoke. She had taken to the priesthood, determined to purge the curse and atone for her deeds, and in so doing, took up a mace and learned to heal. Her hand had slain thousands, and her magics had spared many many more.
It made sense, then, that the Light would shun her faithless plea... she had forsaken it as much as it would later forsake her. Perhaps this was justice after all. Maybe this 'Herald Sun' and 'Fey Moon' would finally break her. Maybe this would be her final penance. Maybe this would be...
"I don't think it's working Luna, I don't hear anything."
A third voice?