The Price of Grace

by Sparkle

The Song of the Stars

In Canterlot, that great city hewn into the foot of a mountain, where the roofs were golden domes and the streets paved with marble, autumn had finally found its course. The streets were wet, covered in a thick blanket of slick leaves of brown and red. Cold gusts of wind blew through the forlorn streets and drove away the last remnants of summer warmth. The new day had just begun, and the sun’s light was still cool and bluish.

But the wind wasn’t the only thing roaming about the streets. A beige pony traversed them with hushed, but confident steps. He was wrapped in a dark red, satin cloak that obscured view of his features and cutie mark. A brown saddlebag was slung over his back. The stallion’s way of walking was rather peculiar: he would stumble forward a few steps, not without a certain slant towards the facades on the right; then he would stop for a few seconds, looking around erratically before hushing on, this time with a left-hand slant. But even in spite of his confused pauses, there was no doubt that he knew exactly where he was heading.  He never backtracked on his choices, never turned back, never lingered at street crossings. As he stumbled on towards its centre, the city became denser, the houses prettier and more ostentatious.

Finally, he came to a halt at a crossroads framed with timberwork facades. He perked up his ears.

From somewhere not too far away, muffled voices were carried over by the wind; not just a few, but by the sound of it, hundreds and hundreds. They came fitfully, rhythmically, like chants, as if there were a giant crowd of ponies united all in one place. The stallion knew that these sounds were wafting over from Canterlot Square. He smiled contently, and a mean glint flared in his eyes.

He slowly turned around. Instead of continuing on the main paved road, he opted for a narrow alleyway to the right, moving eastwards away from the centre.

When he emerged on the other side, he had found what he was looking for: an old, once-impressive, now defunct infirmary. A weathered red cross, feebly glowing with a slowly dimming luminescent spell, marked it clearly as such.

He took a moment to marvel at the building’s downtroddenness, no doubt having expected something more impressive in its place. The big wooden entrance door was barred and sealed — it seemed clearly shut down. But the stallion knew better. After a moment of glaring at it, he unceremoniously yanked himself up onto all four hooves and made a leap through the window to the top left, shattering it in the process. The clang resounded conspicuously in the empty street, muffled only slightly by the cover of wet leaves.

For a moment, he clambered triumphantly in the windowframe, slowly pulling himself up into the room with abnormally strong forehooves. His red cloak dangled off of him into the depth below. But before he had made it all the way in, he froze, pricking up his ears once more.

“Hey!” a male voice shouted below.

The stallion stopped struggling to get up and turned his head, somewhat unwillingly, to face his interlocutor below: a lone, low-ranking, young sergeant, fully clad in golden armour marking him as a member of the Royal Guard. Under the armour gleamed a cutie mark that apparently depicted a blue ball lightning. A large silver bow, accompanied by a quiver, hung from his side. A golden ring was attached to his left forehoof. His face was cut out starkly, if slightly round,  with an oversized horn on top, and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously. His chest seemed broader than his entire torso.

“Come down from there!”

Awkwardly suspended in the windowframe, the cloaked stallion twisted his face into a strangely lopsided grimace. His tongue made a sound as if he had popped a gum bubble. “Uh, hey there!” he half-shouted downwards, his expression unfazed. “Coming down right now is a bit inconvenient, you see, because I really need to get in there! So, uh, sorry!”

The sergeant screwed up his face at the unexpected response. “Well, why do you want to go in there in the first place? It’s a damn defunct hospital, buddy. So you better do as I say and get down here,” he asserted and stepped closer.

There was something akin to curiosity in the beige pony’s eyes as he looked down still dangling from the window, but not budging. “I already said I can’t. Does that mean you’re gonna make me, sergeant? With that big bow of yours? Are you any good at using it?”

The sergeant stared at him for a second, as though he was trying to figure out if he was being mocked. He clucked his tongue and bit his lower lip as he decided how to proceed. “I’m very good with my bow, you know. And you’re quite right, I might just want to use it on you.”

A complacent smile spread over the stallion’s muzzle. He seemed in the mood for conversation, and for some reason, he had little trouble staying effortlessly in place. “By the way, all alone? Have we lost our patrol, Sergeant?”

The sergeant ignored the comment. Without forewarning, with nothing but a barely audible hiss, he planted an arrow right next to the stallion’s face, into the house front. The stallion gave a start, unwittingly let go and tumbled down, crashing one floor below onto the wet pavement.

He looked around in disorientation. Then, after a forceful fit of coughs, he screwed up his face and laughed his strangely hissing laugh. “You took me by surprise, Sergeant! Now, if you allow me —” He shakily got back up on his hooves, under the watchful eyes of the soldier. Cursorily, he brushed off a few wet leaves from his cloak, which had still taken on an ugly smothering of dirt.

The sergeant grinned, barely able to hide that he was pleased with himself. “And now, you take off that cloak.”

“Oh, no, no, that wouldn’t be very  — proper.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m all naked underneath.”

“You take it off now.”

The beige stallion stared back at the physically imposing soldier, apparently on the cusp of talking back, but then finally snapped out of it and fumblingly detached the soaked garment from his coat. It landed silently on the ground.

Narrowing his eyes, the soldier looked the stallion down. “You take that off, too.” He nodded towards the saddlebag that conveniently obscured the stallion’s cutie mark. When the stallion didn’t respond, the soldier took care of the problem by himself and, with an irritated nod and a glow of his horn, sent the bag flying. An oversized sweetcorn was revealed on the stallion’s flank.

Sweetcorn smiled graciously at the soldier, on whom the weight of his discovery just now started to slowly sink in. But instead of using that chance to escape, Sweetcorn just waited patiently, like a chessplayer awaiting his opponent’s next move.

The sergeant took a deep breath as he realised that the most searched-for criminal in Equestria stood right under his nose. He took a nervous look over his shoulder to find himself all alone with Sweetcorn, and finally, as he collected himself from the shock, tried to make his next announcement sound as official and intimidating as possible. A mean spark had crept into his eyes.

“You’re under arrest.”

Sweetcorn, still smiling broadly, raised an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

“You are,” the soldier says valiantly, the least bit more assertive.

“Well, I would love to be,” Sweetcorn smiled courteously. “I’d really love to be arrested by you, really, I really would. But you see, right now is just not a good time. I’m being a real busypony. It just wouldn’t be very convenient, you see?”

Anger entered the soldier’s expression, which left little doubt that he didn’t see. “Convenient? I’m not in the mood for playing games, chap —”

Sweetcorn recoiled, as though repulsed by the sergeant’s lax use of language. His vacantly smiling expression remained firmly etched in his face, like an all-too-understanding parent answering their five-year-old’s questions about the simplest of facts.

“No, uh, chap? I assure you that I haven’t got the slightest intention of mocking you. I’m just asking for a little cooperation on your part.” He scratched his head, as though an idea was forming in there. “And in fact, uh, maybe you could even help me with something else. A teeny-weensy matter where you might come in handy.  How does that sound? I’m just asking because you were so great with that bow of yours.” Sweetcorn gave a praising smile.

The guard stared back at him, transfixed, a dumbfounded expression frozen on his face. Then he came to his senses. Apparently something had clicked into place in him, as he shifted gears and in one swift motion brutally apprehended Sweetcorn, twisting his hooves onto his back and shoving him onto the muddy pavement below. Sweetcorn, shortly diving up for breath, seemed only mildly annoyed. “Please, mister, you’re inconveniencing me. I have things to do, I’m a very busy pony, you see. If you could just arrest me, like, sometime later or never or—”

“If you could just shut up,” the soldier sneered, now revelling in having verified his physical superiority. For some time, the two rested like this, the sergeant’s face still ripe with incredulous glee at his own quick-wittedness.

“Well, how do we solve this problem?” Sweetcorn said softly after a while, as softly as he could with his snout pressed into the dirty street. “How about money? Do you want some? I’ve got money in that good ole bag o’ mine. How much do you want? A thousand bits? No, hang on, that’s definitely too much. Let’s say a hundred?”

“Do you really think that you can buy me with money? I’m a Royal Guard. You’re scum. I work for the Queen, and you’re a criminal.”

“A rather poor rationale,” Sweetcorn sputtered. “You know, some say that the queen is the criminal.”

“Are you talking about those minions of yours on the Square? Well, that’d be because you’ve told them lies and smears.”

“Oh, no, no, now you’re just doing wrong by me. I’m also concerned for you, you know. For your interests. Just speaking from a pragmatic perspective. Things aren’t looking up for the queen right now, there’s some bad guys out there who want to see her hurt. I assure you, that would be such a pity. But you know how quickly that can happen.” He pouted his lips.

“Not very quickly at all,” the soldier said. “She’s immortal.”

“Ah, immortal, maybe, maybe, but invulnerable? Who knows what ingenious schemes some of our more fickle fiends might come up with?”

“By fickle friends, do you mean yourself?”

“Right, right, that’s right. Army of one but growing! I wanna join my friends who are waiting for me on Canterlot Square, see, and that’s why I need you to cooperate right now. They’re really excited for me, you see. I might’ve told them that I’d drop by. And they’d be super disappointed if I didn’t show up, catch my drift?”

The sergeant stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed dangerously, like a snake’s.

“What’s the point? Do you really think there’s any possibility of cooperation here? Do you think I’m threatened by someone like you? Do you really think I’ll leave you untouched if you intimidate me or, worse, just pay me enough? This is all more personal than you want it to be. I’ve heard the stories of what happened on Canterlot Square during the Harvest Celebration. You’ve killed my brothers-in-arms, and no money in the world will be able to weigh up the pleasure of seeing you bleed.”

That notion seemed to almost amuse Sweetcorn. “Haha, that’s right! I did kill them! I’m not one to deny the facts. But make me bleed, you want to? Ah, but alas, Sergeant, the order is to catch me alive!” He fluttered his eyelashes.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Oh, but I am sure. Your namby-pamby queen would never issue a dead-or-alive for anypony. You see, that’s just not her style — no matter what the ramifications may be. She’s too sophisticated to have blood on her hooves. And of course, she knows that that’s exactly what I want. It doesn’t really matter, because she loses face in either case. Either she can kill me, then people will hate her for betraying her principles. Or she can leave me alive, then she’ll just look weak. Take your pick, she’s —”

“Enough.” The soldier, having grown increasingly restless during Sweetcorn’s monologue, had kicked him violently. Sweetcorn fell silent and reflexively took a deep, raspy breath. His face lay flat in the mud now, but before he could regain breath, the sergeant laid one hoof on his neck, slowly pushing down.

Quietly, Sweetcorn started laughing. His entire body started to vibrate, to quiver, but all that came out was a raspy breath.

“What’s so funny?” the sergeant asks incomprehensibly.

“Chuckbolt,” Sweetcorn murmured, biting down hard onto his lips, as if giving away the punchline to a particularly funny joke. “That’s your name, isn’t it? That ring,” he went on, idly regarding the finely worked gold ring around the sergeant’s left forehoof. “It’s really pretty. It’s a gift from your fiancée, right?”

“Shut up.”

“What’s her name again, uh, Foxtrot, right? Isn’t she in the Fourth? That’s all the way across on the other side of the city. You must miss her terribly, mustn’t you?”

Chuckbolt’s grip slackened some. “How do you know that,” he mouthed.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Sweetcorn muttered softly. “And it would be such a terrible pity if something happened to her. It would be inexcusable. I’m sure you agree, don’t you?”

“You’re a total freak,” the sergeant said, now not without fear in his eyes.

“Well, there can be little doubt on that account.”

“You’re bluffing. You don’t really know her, do you?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I do. But if I am, then how did I know her name?” He cocked his head.

“You guessed,” the soldier said after a while.

“Not very likely, but possible.” Sweetcorn said cooly, following the soldier’s movements with his eyes and very lightly with his head.

“If you really know her that well,” Chuckbolt growled, “then tell me more about her.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, I’ve never been a good storyteller, as certain members of the royal family will certainly testify. Maybe I should speak in more concrete terms. Why don’t you open that saddlebag for me?”

He nodded towards the carelessly discarded, brown fabric bag in the mud. The sergeant eyed him suspiciously, but then got up reluctantly to check it.

Sweetcorn profited from the soldier’s absence merely to sweep back a loose streak on his forehead. His black pupils were merciless and tiny inside of his serpentine red eyes as he watched Chuckbolt bend over the bag.

The soldier opened it and reached inside with a hoof, retrieving a small and golden object from the inside. He frowned, then gave a start, stumbling back a few steps as he realised the nature of his find. The object fell to the ground with a tinny clank.

It was the counterpart to his own engagement ring, what seemed like the faint, but unmistakeable outline of a single, dried-out red droplet on its inside.

“Together till death us part?” Sweetcorn remarked drily. “Hopefully, that still means together for a bit longer, right? But that’s up to you, my friend. That’s all up to you.”

Chuckbolt, his back to Sweetcorn, stared at the ring now lying in the dirt. He had stopped breathing, blood rushing into his skull. He only had one sole instinct, orders be damned. One instinct, and one chance.

With his namesake swiftness, he reached into his quiver, mounted an arrow and bent his bow, then turned back and sent the arrow straight towards Sweetcorn forehead with surefire aim. Not even a split second had passed, and already, a triumphant smile spread over the sergeant’s face.

But something unexpected had happened. His smile vanished and turn into panic as he saw what was happening in front of him: Sweetcorn, smiling idly, was contemplating the arrow, which was hovering in midair just inches from his face, like a mildly interesting television programme. Under the eyes of the shocked Chuckbolt, the arrow slowly started twisting and turning, and eventually, it had described a bow and assumed the shape of a heart, both ends bent towards the centre.

“I said now was an inconvenient time,” Sweetcorn said almost amiably as he watched the arrow.

“How are you doing that?” Chuckbolt asked, now panic in his voice. “You’re not a unicorn! How did you do that?”

“Why, with the magic of love,” Sweetcorn said drily, tossing aside the twisted arrow. “And no, I’m not a unicorn. I’m something greater than that. Far, far greater.” He turns back to the soldier.

“What do you want me to do,” Chuckbolt said meekly.

Sweetcorn looked him down appraisingly. “Come closer,” he whispered. They were almost snout-to-snout now. “You seem very anxious to kill me. You still want to kill me, right?”

“More than ever,” Chuckbolt mouthed, his lips quivering.

“All the better,” Sweetcorn smiled. “Today is your special day. Today you will get to. As a reward, since you’re so good at aiming that ... thing.” He nodded towards the silver bow. “And you proved it twice already. That wasn’t just idle bragging on your part. I’m impressed, Ser-ge-ant.”

Chuckbolt blankly opened his mouth. It was clear that he had stopped understanding the situation. He turned towards the shut-down hospital towering over them. “Why are you trying to break in there? What’s inside?”

He had already surrendered himself. Sweetcorn slowly got back up on his hooves, carefully brushing all the wet leaves from his beige coat as he spoke.

“Well, let’s find out, don’t you think? And as for the rest of our day together,” Sweetcorn said nonchalantly, gently taking the appropriate key off the sergeant’s chain, “we’re gonna have so much fun. We’ll be the bestest of friends. And we’re gonna make some new friends, too, right now. I would like to touch your forehead, and then it’ll be so gay.” Sweetcorn picked up the heart-shaped arrow and idly contemplated it. “And then, I hope you enjoy music, Sergeant. Because there’s a very special sonata on the program tonight. And now,” he gently touched the soldiers forehead with a hoof, “let me tell you a story...”

Above them, the sun was finally reaching its apogee.

Sunrise.

Celestia, transfixed, stared out into the unfolding dawn. Images from her dream remained imprinted on her memory like fading negatives, just as the moon crescent started to blend into the sunrise outside. She sighed.

— Do you know that your mother hasn’t visited Luna once? You see, if her daughter’s sick, you’d think she’d drop by, would she not?

— We’re at a crossroads now, and both ways lead into uncertain futures. But we know that neither of these futures will be pleasant.

—  I bet your sister remembers all her dreams, you know.

Your sister remembers all her dreams...

— I’ve had nightmares too, Tia. I have nightmares all the nights. Did you know that?

— No. What... what about?

— Canterlot, Luna whispered. Canterlot all empty and forlorn and dark. Not a soul. Not even me.

— Not even you?

— I stand beside myself. Looking from the outside in. And there is noone around, nopony, and the sun is cloaked. And I feel so horribly alone. Can you understand that?

Celestia covered her eyes. Light rushed in mercilessly, and with the inrushing light, the castle itself appeared to grow; the dark corridors seemed to expand against the influx of brightness like balloons filling with water. By contrast, Celestia herself felt ever tinier, ever more helpless.

She brooded, which was not at all her habit. So much seemed to hinge on this day, on this evening, but when she tried to imagine what was going to happen, her mind didn’t deliver any visual scenarios. The evening was a completely blank slate. And yet she knew that one way or the other, something was going to happen. Like a canvas to be painted had the idea of an image in it, but not the image itself.

The few moments of golden sunrise were coming to an end, and a wall of clouds pushed itself in front of the sun. Immediately, the light was gone and gave way to overcast sombreness. A light drizzle set in outside.

Celestia turned around and listlessly made her way towards the kitchen. Something most peculiar had happened over the night: leaf-green banners were now hanging throughout the castle, all of them carrying her mother’s crest, a stylised orb with a heart-shaped flame underneath. They resembled those at the Harvest Celebration just a week earlier. But these were wrought from more expensive threads that shimmered when the light met them, and the heart-shaped diamond at the bottom was an actual gem. Of course, decorating an entire castle overnight for an event such as the Great Galloping Gala was just a minor feat for Gaia. Celestia wondered if her mother had stayed up all night decorating. The very idea seemed absurd. But then again, she wondered whether her mother ever slept.

The image of her mother’s back against the stark light of the setting sun flashed back to her. She tried to remember where that memory dated from. Hadn't that been the day Sweetcorn had first entered the castle, shortly before? What had her mother been doing on that balcony? This castle is protected by more than just bricks. As long as one of us inhabits this castle, these walls will stand.

Had Gaia cast a protective spell over the castle?

There will be no punishment.

No punishment for Luna, who was getting lost in the hedged maze of her own mind, a dangerous place to be left alone in for too long. But what could Celestia do? Whenever she talked to Luna, all words spoken seemed to have to pass through an icy wall first that sucked any kind of warmth out of them, and when they reached the other’s ear, they sent shivers down their spines in their finality.

How much time had really passed since Sweetcorn had first made it into the castle, and since Luna...

Not much. Barely two weeks. Change had come quickly.

Breakfast was an insipid affair, as was lunch. Luna remained in the infirmary. Celestia didn’t admit it to herself, but Stronghooves’ snarky remarks had left her thinking. Why didn’t Gaia visit Luna? And what exactly was it that Luna was supposed to be suffering from? A cold?

Celestia didn’t see Stronghooves, whom she was growing ever less fond of, Acier or anybody else for the better part of the day. She did, however, frequently pass guards, who were pacing the corridors in self-importance. They were no doubt preparing for the evening. They greeted her only cursorily, with unbefitting aloofness; but Celestia hardly cared about that. In fact, that even gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. Unsure whether to try and stretch or compress time, she spent time at the library. But reading more than a page at a time turned out to be impossible.

Sooner rather than later, she gave up and aimlessly stared out into the drizzle outside. From the library window, you could see the hedged maze below on the castle grounds. When she set eyes upon it, an uneasy feeling immediately got a hold of her, and she hurried to avert her eyes.

The clock struck four. Celestia could neither bear to stay in the same place nor to walk for too long; but eventually, she surrendered and left the library to wander aimlessly around the corridors. She was maybe planning to go for a flight outside, in spite of the poor weather; maybe stretching her wings would do her some good.

But it didn’t come to that. In the corridor, she met her mother, who was just about to enter her bedroom. Her gold necklace sparkled with the heart-shaped diamond in its centre.

Gaia didn’t look the least bit surprised. She smiled serenely. “Tia. Why don’t you come with me?”

When Celestia stammered something indistinct, Gaia’s eyes lit up in amusement.

“The Gala’s approaching soon, you know. Three more hours. And I’m sure you don’t wanna go naked.” Gaia laughed. “I have something for you.”

Celestia gave her mother a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“A dress, of course!” Gaia laughed again, her voice silvery, and the door to her bedroom sprang open. Celestia awkwardly followed her inside. Gaia, considering her shortly, opened one of her oaken cupboards.

Out of it, a white dress floated towards her, made of finest silk, with fine embroideries and reinforced lapels and seams out of a shimmering green. Celestia, who was wholly unfamiliar with like vanity, looked at it like a thing out of another world. But Gaia stared at it affectionately.

“It used to be mine, you know,” she said quietly. “Do you like it?”

“I — I do, it’s just —”

Gaia looked at Celestia with a strange and touching glint in her eyes, a stirring of memories that was visible even to the uninitiated. It succeeded in silencing Celestia, in any case. Slowly, Gaia made it float over to Celestia.

“It’s too big still,” she remarked. “If only by an inch. I’ll have to pin it up on you and then make some changes...”

Celestia frowned, but her mother insisted. That kind of closeness was very unusual, and Celestia was not sure what to make of it.  She slipped into the oversized dress, and Gaia moved behind her, starting to put little needles into it that she retrieved from thin air.

“And Luna?” Celestia asked after a while, to disrupt the awkward silence while her mother pinned up the dress. Both of them understood the question.

“I’m not sure if Luna can come,” Gaia said quietly.

Silence and the rustling of fabric.

“Mom? Are you trying to keep Luna away from others?”

Gaia’s hoof slipped. Celestia felt her own heart pump furiously in her chest, blood rushing into her skull. She knew she had asked something very, very inappropriate.

For a long, long time, Gaia stared at Celestia, her pupils slowly moving downward. “No,” she said finally, but tentatively, as if a decision had snapped into place in her. “Of course not. I want Luna to come, too.”

“Really?”

The shortest moment of silence.

“Really.”

After a moment of hesitation, Gaia continued pinning up the dress. Celestia stood still and watched themselves in the mirror. She stared into her own deep violet eyes, and they stared back at her, wide open, all-seeing, but profoundly confused. Her gaze wandered down her seated figure, over her chest, where the white bistone brooch was sparkling as evidence of her bond with Luna, and onto her cutie mark, that eight-rayed sun supposed to stake out her destiny.

“I’m afraid of tonight,” Celestia managed to say.

“Oh? Why would you be afraid?” Gaia said placidly.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“Because of Sweetcorn. Who knows what he’s going to do tonight?”

Gaia calmly shook her head. “You shouldn’t be afraid of that pony. Nothing bad can happen to us here, you know. Not as long as we stay in this castle. I’ve seen to that.”

“How?”

“I have my ways,” Gaia said simply and stared towards the sparkling, heart-shaped diamond on her chest. “Magic — very powerful magic. As long as one of us stays in this castle, it is safe.”

“But not all these nobles that will come today.”

Gaia sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Sunray.” And more quietly, she added: “They chatter too much anyway. They will be pleased to meet you, you know. And your sister. I’ve figured it might be time to acquainted them with you.”

Celestia wasn’t convinced. She wanted her mother to tell her more, to reassure her with actual information, but only empty phrases of confidence came back.

“Stronghooves told me he believes that Sweetcorn’s hiding in the Everfree Forest. Do you think that’s true?”

“Who knows...”

“Where they are building our castle.”

“Yes, where they are building your castle...”

“Why did you have it built in the Everfree Forest out of all places?”

Gaia bit down on her lower lip, and her gaze clouded almost unnoticeably. “I have my reasons. Memories tie me to that place.”

The Everfree Forest isn’t like other forests. It’s ... not normal. I know the place. It’s scary.

“Which ones?”

Gaia fell silent again. Apparently, she had decided that she had answered enough  bothersome questions. She stared at her daughter in the mirror and smiled faintly.

But Celestia still wanted to know more. For a moment, she hesitated, but then she couldn’t help blurting it out.

“And Acier, where will he be, is he going to be here in the castle? I think that —”

“I said not to worry about tonight,” came the serene, but definite reply. “Besides, he is a friend.”

When Gaia was done, she stepped back, and the dress floated over to Celestia, who made herself slim to slip into it. It was as white as herself, absurdly reminiscent of a wedding dress, but simpler, less adorned, and light and breezy; a gold buckle held it together on her chest, just underneath the bistone brooch. She felt her mother’s gaze on her, vague pride in it, but as she stared into the mirror, she looked like a complete stranger to herself.

You’re so pretty, so graceful. Like a large and noble swan.

She sighed. She wasn’t comfortable, it felt too fake; but for the moment, she partook in the pretension, and smiled back at her mother. Sure, it was pleasant to let go of reality for an instant, to forget Canterlot, to forget Sweetcorn’s threat, to forget that there were realities and responsibilities out there. But it was also dangerous. Her smile hardened as her dream image of Sweetcorn came back to her. The pain, that all-consuming pain, but then...

“What’s on your mind, Sunray? You look so troubled.”

Celestia closed her eyes. “I just ... I just had a strange dream tonight. Just a silly ... it doesn’t matter, anyways.”

“Dreams matter,” her mother said earnestly.

Celestia gulped. “Well, it was... nothing, really. But at the end, I had this extremely hot sensation, as if my entire body was just ... just bursting with warmth. As though something tried to break free from me. And then, behind me, I heard this mellow cry, like an owl’s, but more beautiful, warmer, more ... harmonious.” She opened her eyes again and stared at herself. “Actually, do you remember ... the day when we and Luna tried to catch a phoenix? You probably don’t, it’s so long ago and you are so busy and ...”

Her mother put a hoof to her mouth. “Of course I remember,” she breathed. “Phoenixes are very rare, you know. Very, very rare.”

Celestia nodded. “When I turned around —- in my dream — I saw that same phoenix behind me, appearing on the horizon and moving towards me. It was the very same, without a doubt, it had the exact same silver lining on its wings, the exact same pattern.”

She didn’t mention that that had been in the Everfree Forest, nor that Luna had figured there — least of all Sweetcorn.

Gaia said nothing, but simply stared at Celestia’s reflection in the mirror. Celestia kept her eyes directed towards the ground. Then she shook her head. “And then, there was this giant flame, and... it’s hard to explain, but it felt like it came out of my own body, but at the same time from the outside, and when I looked at the bird, it was just ... just a heap of ashes.”

For some reason, that memory instilled a sense of shame in her, as though she had done something dishonourable in her dream and was now provoking her mother’s disappointment. But Gaia just looked on. A needle hovered between them, a thin, spring-green aura keeping it suspended in mid-air.

 “I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering... if that’s ... if that’s a bad sign.”

“A bad sign,” her mother mouthed. To Celestia’s surprise, a faint smile appeared on her lips.  “The music,” Gaia said slowly. “Did you hear the music?”

Celestia nodded. Of course she had heard the music. She felt the press of her mother’s hooves on her fur.

“What was it like?”

“I can’t really describe it. How do you ... how do you describe a piece of music you’ve heard in your dreams? A colour you’ve seen, or a particular smell? I wouldn’t really know how.”

“But the feeling doesn’t go away,” her mother asserted. Her voice was feeble. “What did it feel like?”

“Warm,” Celestia said decidedly. “It was bliss. Every single note was in its proper place. The music swept you away, carried you to higher places, like... like giving you a peak of something bigger. Like a sampling of eternity. It was pure cadence, you know... harmony.”

For a moment, they rested immobile, her mother’s hoof resting on her chest. Then Gaia spoke.

“Close your eyes.”

“But —”

“Just do it.”

Celestia did it.

As she saw only the red of her own lids, she felt something metallic and cool brush against her fur, at the height of her chest.  She opened her eyes. Her mother had taken off her own collar with the heart-shaped diamond and laid it around Celestia’s neck. The instant the diamond made contact with her fur, she felt a strong shiver run through her entire body, as though she was connected to a dormant source of boundless power, to a current of nascent potential; as though it tickled something that had always been latent in her.

There it was. The Eternal Flame.

Celestia stared at her own reflection. Her smile had disappeared, while her mother’s had grown more pronounced. Instead, confusion had grabbed hold of Celestia.

“Now you look like a real Queen,” Gaia said airily.

Celestia looked herself down, her lavender eyes wide open. The gold necklace fit her neck almost perfectly — she had grown, there was no doubt about it. It flowed over her chest, an elegantly cursive contrast to her white fur, and the large, heart-shaped diamond went with her white coat. In fact, the collar looked so in place as if it had always been there. That was what threw Celestia off.

“No,” she said slowly. “I can’t wear that.”

“But it fits you beautifully,” her mother said serenely.

Celestia shook her head. “It’s yours. You can’t let me wear that. You’re the queen.”

Gaia’s smile grew fainter. Celestia was sure to detect the slightest trace of disappointment in her eyes. But before either of them could speak again, the door flew open, and both mother and daughter whirled around.

Stronghooves stood there, panting, and his eyes flickered briefly over both of them. “My Queen,” he said gruffly and made his way into the room. “He’s been seen in Canterlot. He’s been seen this morning. Sweetcorn has tried to break into a hospital!”

Gaia stared at him for a while. It was impossible to tell what was going on between her the black in her eyes, impossible to see the stirrings of her mind; too profound were they, too deep, like the surfaces of completely stagnant lakes.

“A hospital?” she repeated. There was something moony about her voice. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know! In any case, he’s been stopped by a member of the Guard, some Chuckbolt, and that guy is missing now, not a trace, nada, nil! His patrol can’t make heads and tails of it. And what’s worse, my Queen, Sweetcorn is freely roaming about Canterlot and spitting you in the face. You know what’s going on on Canterlot Square, right? Hundreds of ponies assembled there, waiting for their messiah, and apparently there’s a rumour going around that he’s gonna show up there this evening! We can’t let that happen, we need to —”

“Smoke and mirrors,” she said serenely. She seemed to look right through Stronghooves. “A diversion from the Gala. He wants to distract our eyes.”

“I don’t even care at this point,” Stronghooves spat. “I’ve got enough of this pointless risk-taking. All I want is that scoundrel dead, no matter what it takes.”

“No matter what it takes?” she said quietly.

“And if I have to burn down that city,” he ground out, “to weed him out, I will. You know how to smoke out out rats, don’t you? Set aflame their burrow, and they’ll come out coughing sooner rather than later.”

“Permission to burn down Canterlot denied,” she said, without raising her voice. “And permission to attack either Sweetcorn or any pony on that Square denied. You know that’s not going to happen. You don’t have my permission to attack now, and you won’t ever have it.”

Stronghooves looked as if somepony had just stolen his presents from under the tree. “This guy has attacked one of my soldiers! You think you can just let that happen? There was a red line right there, and he’s crossed that line! Do you really wanna wait until he gets his minions riled up too? We need preemptive action now. I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation!”

“No, I’m afraid you don’t understand,” she said quietly. Her deep eyes seemed to stare right through him, into a distant reality somewhere far behind them. Celestia looked at her mother, trying to scrutinise her mother’s gaze, but her iridescent green pupils were impenetrable. When she spoke again, her voice was wistful. “Grace.”

“What?”

“Grace,” she repeated, her face blank.

His face contorted in something akin to rage, and his regular features were suddenly a lot less handsome. “Grace,” he said incredulously. “If you call suicide grace! If you’re staying lax about this right now, you’re opening the floodgates onto a very, very slippery slope! It’s going to snowball against you quicker than you can stake off your power! Majesty, I’m sure your intentions are laudable, but this is not the time for world-weary idealism. That kind of misunderstood clemency doesn’t come for free. On the contrary, it comes with a very high price tag indeed!”

“Your problem,” she said quietly and stared directly at Stronghooves, “is that you know perfectly well about price tags, but you have no idea what it means to pay a  price.” Her gaze darkened. “That is all I have to say on the matter.”

Momentarily, Stronghooves was on the verge of opening his mouth to argue further; but then, in a startling movement, he slammed his hoof onto the table. Celestia flinched, but Gaia simply looked at him, a vague challenge in her eyes.

“As you wish, Majesty,” he said, after he had regained composure. “If that is what you want. But under these circumstances, I cannot vouch for your safety anymore.”

Gaia looked at him as though she had never been asking that of him. “These walls are thick,” she said airily. “You don’t need to worry about my safety. Just give it time, and it will all come by itself.”

He looked at her, seething, then turned away and simply stomped out of the room. Celestia glanced at her mother, as if asking for permission. When she divined a nod, Celestia followed Stronghooves outside, timidly trotting after him for a few steps.

“Your mother is losing grips on reality,” he growled at her when he saw her. “She’s losing it. That’s not gonna end well. Some things just have to be done, and she just needs to give me the goddamn command already. It’s just a goddamn word!”

“To her, it’s more than a word.”

“To her, it’s just a word. To me, it’s more than a word. It’s me who needs to send his soldiers out there, after all.”

“But I don’t get it,” Celestia said. “Why was he trying to break into that hospital?”

“Heaven knows what that guy is up to. These freaks don’t think normally. In any case, he needs to be stopped at any price, whatever the cost, or the damage incurred will be far greater,” he barked. “All that I know is someone needs to take things into hooves here, and quick. This can’t go on like this. Someone needs to get real. Someone needs to make decisions. That world-weary idealism won’t do your mother much good.”

She stopped trotting after him. The words had reminded her of something that somepony else had said to her, not all too long ago. He noticed she wasn’t following him anymore when he nudged his head, and stopped shortly to cast a glance back at her. He looked her down.

“Well... see you later, Princess. At the dance.”

“See you later,” Celestia mouthed, but didn’t feel like it at all.

She remained planted on the spot. As Stronghooves disappeared around the corner, Celestia realised something for the first time. In her heart, there was a tinge of yearning, less profound, maybe more flippant, but a yearning nonetheless.

“Tia,” her mother called out. “It’ll be time soon... the dress.”

Celestia looked toward the ground. Maybe her mother really was losing her grip on reality, she thought darkly.

The Gala was to start at six, still during bright daytime. And to be sure, slowly after five the guests started to trickle in, the usual crowds from Canterlot: befeathered, bespectacled, suited ponies, whose noble name meant everything to them; a tiresome march of self-decadence and hubris. The conceitedness was palpable, and Celestia knew she wasn’t really one of them — and neither was her mother, and, of course, Luna.

She greeted. She knew how to greet.  Empty words, shaking hooves, a mechanical smile. Every single couple of glammed-up nobleponies she greeted, engaging in shreds of idle chit-chat, sometimes acknowledging polite comments about her dress. To cancel those out, there were some snide remarks about Luna, too, and whenever she heard them, it felt like she had bitten on something bitter. One of the guests actually asked her if she had already awakened — easily the height of indiscretion.

Eventually, they entered the throne hall, and like that day of the Harvest Celebration, Celestia felt that strange tingling of predetermination again; as though everything was moving on a preordained trajectory, mechanically, without pause, without intervention. She, too, played her part, and she wondered how long it was before it was all going to come down. Her mother disappeared somewhere, and Celestia was left on her own.  Golden decorations were affixed everywhere: the same coats-of-arms as at the Harvest Celebration, showing her mother flowing around a now golden Earth sphere. For a moment, Celestia’s eyes drifted towards the giant stained windows; where there were still two alicorns, one spring-green, one wintery blue, chasing each other endlessly.

The ponies themselves she barely noticed. Instead, her eyes turned towards the guards that were on watch at every window, every entrance, forming a circle around the entire room. There was at least one guard for every two guests, all of them vigilant and ready to draw their swords whenever necessary. Celestia stared them over. Their expression was indifferent. It struck her as strange that their sight did not seem to disquiet the guests in the slightest.

The music began to play, a fully decked-out orchestra of at least a dozen ponies positioned on a sidestage, with the big centre-stage that had been erected reserved for allocutions. Hundreds of couples began to clumsily sway to the rhythm of the music. But before she could spent much more thought on that, and just as the lofty music was reaching its first crescendo, she saw that Stronghooves was already approaching her. He was clothed in his golden armour, just like before; if more polished. Apparently, a suit would have diminished the majesty of his appearance.

He smiled shrewdly.

“May I have this dance?”

She hesitantly nodded, but without giving him all of his attention. From the corner of her eye, she had watched the doors open again and Acier slide into the throne hall. There was something different about him: he carried a saddlebag she had never seen on him before. She pushed the thought from her mind and returned Stronghooves’ look. There was something undeniably elegant about the general’s movements, or maybe that wasn’t the right word — more of a notion of strength in his weakest gestures. She didn’t admit it, but it made an impression on her.

He looked at her, his fake smile still on his lips. She had no doubts that it was inauthentic, had no illusions about its pretentiousness. But right now, she might even have preferred the inauthentic and unreal to the reality she would have to face again soon enough. Not taking off her eyes, she let him lay his hoof around her and pull her closer. There was no hesitation in his movements, no awkwardness;. everything about them seemed purposeful, yet nonchalant. She let it happen.

The orchestra started playing a slow piano piece. It was supposed to be romantic, but the longer they danced, the more it seemed to Celestia that it represented all the sadness in the world. And the longer they danced, the slower everything around her seemed to become. Every note hit on the keyboard, however subtle it was, reverberated with jarring volume in her ears, as if her skull was the string being hammered. And still, she couldn’t take off her eyes from his own steely-blue ones, and then she wasn’t sure what was going on inside her anymore and only felt intense alienation and detachment. The sadness of the music was only outside of her; she soon preferred to feel nothing at all, surrendering herself to the slow movements of the waltz he so confidently executed. Everything around her grew ever more unnatural. She felt like a fish out of water, and yet she still tried to swim, flapping her fins uselessly, and catching no breath at all. She mechanically returned Stronghooves’ look, trying to find a connection somewhere between her and the outer world.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Acier make his way over to Gaia, who had put on her own winning smile now and was talking to a group of wigged ponies in expensive dresses. Celestia felt a strange rush of affection towards her mother, just for a second. Then it was gone again. When Gaia saw Acier, she turned around and frowned. He whispered something in her ear. Celestia narrowed her eyes, trying to stay atop the scene as well as she could. What was in Acier’s saddlebag?

The piano music grew ever slower, ever more supplicating. Celestia frowned. What was going on? She grew distracted, and her partner noticed it: he tried to compensate for her limpness, but soon became frustrated. Patience wasn’t Stronghooves’ strong suit. Gaia’s expression changed. There it was again, that strange mixture of obstinacy and defiance that was so characteristic of her, and cold, latent anger. Once again, Celestia felt very sympathetic towards her mother. Gaia’s words floated to her consciousness: Be careful with Stronghooves. I know what you’re looking for in him, but ... but he can’t give it to you. What had she meant by that?

She found it ever harder to keep going. She simply couldn’t concentrate on both, couldn’t operate her brain and her emotions at the same time. Maybe that was where the disconnect came from? Thoughts belong in the head, feelings in the heart, movements in your hooves, but right now, she had to pick one. Everything seemed to weigh down on her, push down on her neck, about to snap it. What was going on there? What had Acier said to Gaia? Was he trying to manipulate her? She grew suspicious and worried. She saw something else, vaguely in the distance, a small, blue figure. She craned her neck.

“If we are going to dance, then we dance,” Stronghooves said, still the same stupid smile on his lips. But it was intended as an order, not as a suggestion. She was just about to retort something when his remaining colonel with the greasy-smooth black mane, Benedict, fought his way through the crowd of dancers himself, a strangely misplaced image because he was in full military armour, while all the ponies were in dinner suits and dresses. He darted a look at Celestia, then leaned in to whisper something in Stronghooves’ ears.

Celestia had let go of Stronghooves and eyed him suspiciously. But Stronghooves seemed unfazed.

“Hang on, hang on,  I’m sure it can wait until I finish my dance with this lovely lady!” he said jovially. Once more, he tried to lock hooves with Celestia, but she backed off. “You can finish your stupid dance yourself,” she said. “This isn’t what I want.”

She left him standing open-mouthed and made her way through the crowd. Dancing couples were all around her, swaying like a single giant body in tune with the music that still seemed unnaturally loud and sad, and somewhere in there, there was a vaguely discordant note, one that the others didn’t seem to pick up on, but that became more jarring with every step she made through the crowd. But Celestia walked on determinedly.

Luna looked so alone amongst them all: pressed against the wall, lost in a world she couldn’t quite comprehend. Celestia knew that most of all. She knew how much it had cost Luna to show up here, with all these ponies, and she knew that Luna had done it as a favour to Celestia. But when she approached, that invisible wall between them was still there. Their eyes searched each other, but there was a distance between them that tore at Celestia’s heart. How much older her sister looked! Her mane had changed: it was a deeper shade of blue now, and if you looked close enough, you could divine the sparkling of stars in them.

Luna had made it.

Wordlessly, Celestia extended a hoof and gently pulled Luna towards her. She seemed different, freer, less bent than she had when she’d been in the infirmary. Celestia huddled against her sister, laid one hoof on her shoulder, and like this, they started to sway with the music, a clumsy waltz, less purposeful than her dance with Stronghooves, but every bit more meaningful. Luna closed her eyes and laid her head on Celestia’s shoulder. For a split second, even though Celestia must have imagined it, it looked as though Luna had leaned her head in a little too far. Celestia grew acutely aware of the abysmally black, polished bistone brooch on Luna’s chest. It was cold to the touch. The sisters’ eyes remained interlocked, a current running between them of a quality Celestia hadn’t known before; there was a challenge between them, too. Luna soon looked down.

They stopped. Celestia, blinking her eyes as though awaking from a trance, realised that the musicians had stopped playing. Gaia was on stage, and all eyes were on her. The link lost, Celestia and Luna awkwardly separated and turned their heads towards the stage, too.

Her mother looked down upon the crowd, and while her gaze was alert and calm as ever, that dangerous sparkle of defiance lay in it, too. From the corner of her eye, Celestia saw that his lieutenant was still whispering something in Stronghooves’ ear, whose expression had darkened and lost all of its pretentious elegance. Acier looked towards the queen. All guards present seemed extremely tense.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Gaia called out, her voice ringing out crystal-clear. “I appreciate it very much. I also appreciate your attention as I am going to make an announcement.” There was grim decision in her eyes, and as her gaze wandered over the crowd, it rested on Celestia and Luna.

“Celestia, Luna, please come up here.”

Silence.

Within fractions of a second, every head in the hall turned towards them. Celestia’s face was red-hot in the face of the sudden attention, but that was nothing compared to Luna’s reaction. Luna was already enormously uncomfortable being unrecognised in a large crowd of ponies who took no notice of her, but the intense scrutiny from hundreds of eyeballs was too much for her. Confused, she looked all around her like a hurt animal; when she saw that all looks were on her, she drooped her head and started quivering violently, as if she was cold.

Why was their mother doing this?

But now, there was no running away, however much Luna might have wanted to.

Doing her best to cut a fine figure, and with her best impression of gentility, Celestia mildly nudged Luna towards the stage. Her heart beat in her chest as everyone in the hall made room for them, but she didn’t show it. She hid it, now under her own fake smile, and the most heart-wrenching thing was that it worked flawlessly, effortlessly.

They climbed on stage. Celestia glanced at Luna, whose eyes were affixed somewhere in the distance. Almost as if she tried to pretend she wasn’t really there, not seeing anything at all. But her hooves, which were still quivering violently, were proof that she was. A few whispers spawned in the crowd about Luna’s state of unease, and soon, all the eyes were on her. The whispers spread, a jarring, hissing sound in the complete silence. Celestia ground her teeth. In this moment, there was nothing, nothing she wished for more in this world than that these vain well-dressed gossipmongers would keep their stupid mouths shut, that they would stop blathering about things they didn’t understand and avert their gazes. But no royal power could bring about that.

“I want to announce,” their mother called out with merciless clarity, “that contrary to any rumours or false information you might have heard, contrary to any idle speculation, contrary to any unfounded gossip, my two daughters will inherit me and occupy their own thrones.”

The room was dead silent. Stronghooves had shoved his way to the fore and was now beckoning at Gaia, a thoroughly enraged look on his face. She glanced at him, but continued speaking. “They will have their own castle in the Everfree Forest, and they will rule over this land together. Princess Luna, who will occupy the Throne of the Night  —” she looked at Luna, who was still looking towards the ground and shaking violently, “and Princess Celestia who will occupy the Throne of the Light.”

Celestia’s face was red-hot. She had never felt so exposed, and Gaia’s words fell flat on the crowd, who just stared blankly towards the stage. If this was to be their debut, it was thoroughly miscarried.

“And I  also want to stress,” Gaia went on, “that there is no danger, that everything is under control, that everything —”

“My queen,” Stronghooves shouted at the foot of the stage. His patience was at an end. Every single eye in the hall turned towards him. “You need to come with me, now.”

For a moment, Gaia stood idle. There was something in her eyes that Celestia couldn’t quite fathom; something breaking, going amiss. Something going lost that broke her heart, too. A conclusion that she didn’t quite understand, but whose weight affected her mother to no end.

Stronghooves glanced dismissively at Celestia and Luna. “Maybe you two should come, too.”

And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, Stronghooves turned back towards the crowd, apologetically extending his hooves in an avuncular gesture, a flashing smile at his disposal. “Ladies and gentlemen, there is absolutely no reason to let your merriment be ... interrupted.” His eyes were a steely cold, and they scanned over the room with merciless efficiency, no doubt looking for someone in the crowd.

Celestia looked back anxiously, and there in the crowd, she made out Acier. And she was absolutely sure that Acier had met Stronghooves’ gaze and replied with a grim, sharp nod, as if to take up his challenge.

Stronghooves shepherded them into a small chamber going off from the stage, a rarely used small study equipped with an oaken desk and red carpet. It gave off a rather sinister feel. Early evening sunlight crept in through a narrow stained-glass window with a checkerboard pattern.

Gaia, strangely unfazed, sat down, and she looked like an enormous, supple wild cat as she wrapped her tail around herself, her eyes sparkling serenely.

Her calmness could have been no greater contrast to Stronghooves’ infuriation. His eyes had shed all false gentility and seemed to shoot lightning now. Celestia wondered how much of that was due to her sudden departure from his side on the dance floor, but he didn’t deign to look at her, instead focusing Gaia with a highly inappropriate, but barely contained anger — and a threatening sense of complacency.

“Things have gone down on Canterlot Square,” he barked. “If I remind you, just as I predicted. And at last, we’ve found this Chuckbolt.”

Celestia bit down on her lips. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened. This guy, Sweetcorn, he had it all planned to perfection. It was all orchestrated. A perfectly rehearsed piece of theatre.

See, I don’t know how he did it, I don’t know how he found them, but suddenly, these two earth ponies come on stage on the Square. You remember those stallions that were attacked like a week ago near the Everfree Forest? In the midst of the night?  It made quite a splash back then. And well, there they were. Out of nowhere.  Can you imagine what they were called? Knot and Burlap!” He laughed incredulously at such crude names. “Well, apparently, they’re well-known within the movement. So, these two stallions climb on stage, people recognise them. The crows goes dead quiet. The duo passionately tell a little story to the crowd, who’s all ears.” He glares maliciously at Luna, whose regard is glued to the ground. “A pretty bad story. People get pretty upset. Really upset. And then —” he stares at Gaia — “something goes wrong. Extremely wrong.”

“Well, what?”

“This Chuckbolt has been on the balcony of the city house, clothed in his royal golden armour,  visible for all to see. And what does he do? He takes his bow and he takes them out. Both of them. He just shoots them like that, from at least a hundred feet of distance. One after the other, with the accuracy of a sleepwalker.”

“But my mother had given explicit orders not to shoot—”

“Well, of course she has, but for some reason or another, he just threw her orders to the wind. I don’t understand his motivation, but that is what happened. Shot them right there in front of everyone. Bad timing, I’d say. When people on the square realised what had happened, all hell broke lose. All restraint gone, of course. First they all go for that Chuckbolt. Then they all go for my other soldiers. My soldiers have to defend themselves, of course. I hope you know what that means.”

“Civil war,” Celestia mouthed, her face pale. Gaia’s eyes were somewhere off in the distance, as always.

“But I don’t understand,” Celestia said confusedly. “What did these two stallions tell them? They were the ones who got attacked near Everfree Forest? Where did they come from all of a sudden?”

“Well, apparently,” and now Stronghooves glared maliciously at Gaia, “the Queen has tried to keep these ponies locked away in a safe location, in a fake hospital, isn’t that right, my queen? Because she knew they had an explosive story to tell. Unfortunately, Sweetcorn seemed to be a step ahead. He knew where they were and he dug them up. That explains the incident from this morning, I guess.”

Celestia shook her head. “What story did they have to tell? About how they were attacked?”

Stronghooves eagerly embraces Celestia’s nosiness as he talks himself into a fury. He shoots a gaze at Luna. Gaia’s eyes rest on him, serene as ever, and finally, he meets the queen’s eyes, almost emitting a challenge.

“My Queen,” he goes on. “These two stallions have asserted in front of the entire crowd that it was your daughter, your designated heiress, Princess Luna, who has  violently attacked him and his companion on Canterlot Road.”

Crisp silence fell. It was unbearable before it had even properly begun. Celestia felt a strange prickling sensation encroach on her insides. An unbearable lightness  that seemed to choke her from the inside.

Gaia didn’t look surprised in the least bit. In fact, she looked so detached that she might not even have been there right now.

“And you knew that, didn’t you?” Stronghooves said quietly, observing Gaia’s every gesture. “You knew that it was your daughter. That’s why you put her victims into that fake hospital. Right? To sweep it all under the carpet.” There was something in his eyes that Celestia hadn’t seen there before — incomprehension, repulsion. But Gaia didn’t respond.

Celestia slowly, very slowly, turned to look at her sister. Luna had her eyes glued  towards the ground.

“I can’t believe this,” Stronghooves asserted. “How do you expect to pull through if your daughter goes around attacking ponies? We have a big public relations problem on our hooves, that’s for sure. Well, I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you,” he sputtered, “but there’s a few things that need to be done immediately. We have to fight back. We kill Sweetcorn the second he shows up. We —”

His voice rose as he talked himself into a rage, but to Celestia, it seemed to become quieter, farther away, and she turned to Luna. It was as if they were encapsulated in an isolated bauble, shielded from the outside world.

“Is it true?” Celestia asked quietly, certain that Luna could hear every word. “That’s what you’ve been doing all these nights? But no, no, it can’t be true, right? Because why would you. Because why would you?”

Silence.

“I — I’ve — I listen to — to the song of the stars —”

For some unexplainable reason, that phrase short-circuited something in Celestia, and she snapped at her sister.

“Luna, there’s no such thing. Okay? Stop saying that. There is no ‘song of the stars’, got it? We’re not foals anymore, we’re going to be queens, grow up!  This has long stopped being child’s play! There’s no Father Hearth, there’s no easter bunny, and most of all, there’s no song of the stars!”

The words had come out much, much harsher than she had intended to, but now that they were out, she couldn’t take them back. They were hanging in the air like heavy clouds before a downpour. Immediately, tingling feelings of self-hatred and regret spread through her. She bit down hard on her tongue and looked at her sister.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” she asked quietly. “Why don’t you talk to me? I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore if you don’t talk to me. I just don’t know. I don’t ... I don’t know you anymore.” She fought back her tears, she couldn’t cry, not here, not with her mother and Stronghooves around.

She suddenly realised that Stronghooves had stopped talking and was eyeing the two of them. Gaia still smiled serenely. Luna looked horribly wrenched.

“Either way, Majesty, you need to make a decision, Majesty,” he growled on. “And now. It’s hell down there. People won’t take kindly to the queen’s daughter going around attacking earth ponies, that much is clear to you, right? That is just the opportunity the mob is waiting for! Violence is erupting on the square! If you don’t want to fight back, then there’s only one way. You need to distance yourself from her. And you would do well by it. She’s just no longer tenable, if you understand what I mean. But if you kicked her out of the castle and dissociated yourself from her, maybe we could still turn things around...” He glared maliciously at Luna, whose eyes were invisible under her mane as she kept her head down.

Celestia felt like throwing up.

For a while, all was quiet. Only traces of Stronghooves' words reverberated faintly.

Gaia’s unfathomable green eyes stared at him for a second as though she was looking right through him, then she turned to look at Luna, a weird sparkle in her eyes.

“Luna, please come here,” she said quietly.

Luna raised her head and looked at her mother. The gaze the two exchanged was of the strangest kind, a kind that Celestia had never seen before: there was a question in it, a challenge, even, but it came from both of them; and somewhere in the middle, these challenges met and cancelled each other out, to bring forth a sort of unwitting attraction. Luna timidly approached. Celestia bit down hard on her tongue.

Her mother looked at Stronghooves, as though daring him to look away. Then she lifted her hoof and laid it around Luna. Luna shivered, and she closed her eyes. Gaia lowered her head, until Luna’s forehead and hers touched. For a few seconds, they stayed like this, but then Gaia opened her eyes and looked at Stronghooves once more, defiance stowed away deep inside her gaze.

“Come here,” she said again.

Luna exhaled softly, but did not move.

“I love you, because you are my daughter. Do you understand? You’re not going anywhere.”

By way of a response, Luna gave a quiet whinny. But her mother hadn’t really asked her. She had addressed her words to Stronghooves, whose eyes remained blunt and unmoved.

Celestia, however, didn’t remain unaffected. Trying her best to keep composure, she turned away to walk out of the chamber, hoof before hoof, with painful casualness. She felt her mother’s eyes on her back, and maybe even Luna’s, but as the door to the corridor closed behind her, she wanted to remain unwatched. In the corridor, which was full with the muffled repercussions of loud music being played in the throne hall, she could no longer hold back her tears. They were breaking free like a pent-up river finally tearing down its dam. She hid in a dark corner, to cry, to cry, to cry until she was all dried up inside. Tears dripped down onto the bistone brooch on her chest, pearly white as the moon in a cloudless night, as innocent as a promise made years ago.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Where had it all gone wrong?

Where had it all gone wrong?

She had stayed cowering in the corridor for an indeterminate amount of time. She knew that ponies were passing by and that the door had opened. When she finally came to and had collected herself, she didn’t know how much time had passed. She tried to swallow her tears some and shakily tried to retreat to her bedroom. The music grew more quiet as she distanced herself from the throne hall. As she walked, she managed to regain more composure. She looked out of the windows she passed by: the evening sun was already dipping everything in a golden red. How much time could have passed? A quarter? A full hour? With every step, the sadness seemed to ebb away more and more. Maybe crying was cathartic.

But when she opened the door to her bedroom, her eyes lit on her bed. She froze. A single envelope lay there, of a simple white, unadorned and unsealed.

The envelope caught Celestia’s eye. She moved towards the bed and picked it up with her hooves. Telepathically, she severed the flap. It contained a two-page folded letter, and, telling by the bump on the outside, a small object of sorts. Breathlessly, Celestia took out the letter first.

It was composed in Luna’s narrow, slanted writing.

Dear Sister,

The stars have their songs, too.

Granted, it is harder to hear them. You need to listen carefully; their songs are of the quiet kind. Not like a day sings; theirs are chants without voice, tunes without sound. But if you take the time to listen closely, you will appreciate their beauty. A different kind of beauty, perhaps, an abysmal kind of beauty, possibly. But beauty.

I have been hearing their song for a long while now. I keep thinking back to the day where I first heard them. I must have been no older than six. Do you remember that summer day where you wanted to catch that phoenix with me? Maybe you don’t, but I do. I think a lot about that day, for some reason. Maybe this is where it all started.

You insisted on catching that stupid phoenix, and I said yes, just to please you. But the truth was that I was afraid. I didn’t really want to. I don’t like phoenixes; they scare me. They are too... too bright, too warm, if that makes any sense at all. They radiate heat. That drives me off.

Celestia stopped for a moment. Why did Luna remember that one day so vividly?

I am a creature of the night, that much is true, and I have no heat inside of me. It’s not in my nature to feel drawn towards this-worldly beauty. I know that phoenix made a big impression on you, but to me, that was the day I had a sad realisation, somewhere in the back of my heart.

That day, I run away, even though you told me to stay and catch that phoenix. It was just child’s play. But I ran away. I felt bad about that; I had promised to go with you and help you, but halfway through, I just felt my determination to stay with you slide away. I don’t know, it was a feeling I can’t really explain. Of course, that was a mistake. I had broken my my promise. A small promise, to be sure, but when the small promises don’t matter, what good are the big ones?

I ran away uphill. I was a scared child. I felt bad about that; but I thought, Luna, you told her you didn’t want to catch that phoenix. There’s no obligation involved. No promise broken. But of course, I was wrong. If the tiniest of promises do not hold, then what good are the big ones? I promised to stay and help you with your stupid little chase, but I got afraid, and I ran off.

It’s all so strange, Tia. How did it come to this? Aren’t we both daughters of the same mother? Why are we so different?

Why am I so different?

When I was almost back up at the castle, I looked down one last time. Mother was with you. She comforted you. I saw that she was wiping off your tears. Nopony ever wipes dry my tears, because I never cry in public. I always do it alone. I couldn’t do it for others to see. To do so would seem like imposing myself.

The wind was especially strong that day, and especially mild. If during all those years I have been here I have learnt something, it is how to listen. I haven’t learnt to speak very well. But I have learnt to listen. If you know how to listen, the wind can tell you all sorts of things. When I listened to the wind that day, I could hear the words that mother was whispering in your ear. You’re growing up, Tia. Tears of anger really don’t suit you. Grace, grace, grace, that is the most important thing you can share with the world. I’ll see you at dinner! I’ll see the two of you.

But who ever said that to me?

Your voices sounded so strange. So garbled, so distant, so distorted by the wind. They seemed to reach me not from the courtyard, but from some faraway planet. Was that really the world I belonged to anymore? When I heard your voices in the wind that day, it made me feel so weird. So displaced, in a way, and I could barely make out the words.

But I heard other voices, too. Didn’t the voices of the night speak to me so much clearer? Didn’t their songs soothe my soul so much more eloquently?

Was that where the first crack sprang?

I was confused. When we lay in bed that night, I was still confused. And I am still confused. I looked up at that magic ceiling above us, that window into endless space. I’ve always loved that ceiling. It makes you feel sheltered and yet part of some great totality. It tells you you are safe and protected, and yet as exposed to infinity as everyone else.

I asked you if you could sleep. You said no.

That was good, right? I also couldn’t sleep.

I asked you if you were still mad at me. You said no. That was good, too.

But I could tell you weren’t telling the truth.

For the next five minutes, I plucked up all my courage to say what I was trying to tell you. I struggled. I agonised. But you couldn’t see that, because you cannot see in the dark. Your eyes are not attuned to it. You only heard me say it, casually, like any other nothingness I blather. And even when I said it, you could not hear the desperation in my voice; because no matter how eloquently you can speak, you do not know how to listen, Tia.

I told you I was sad about you sometimes.

It wasn’t really what I meant to say. But it was the only thing that I managed to say. I just wanted to let you know that something wasn’t right with me. That I was confused. That maybe I needed your help.

But you were tired that night. I could tell there were other thoughts on your mind; surely thoughts of greater importance, of greater pertinence than your baby sister. And you were too weary to talk much about it.

I held my breath to wait and see if you would say something else.

But you wouldn’t.

I asked you to sing me a lullaby. You have such a lovely voice, Tia, have I ever told you that? So beautiful, so mellow and smooth. Like the phoenix’s call that you so cherish. I held my breath to hear your song better. I wanted to listen. I looked at the stars above us, and you started to sing.

        Twinkle, twinkle, little star, time to fall asleep right now...

        - That didn’t even rhyme.

        - I’m not a poet.

One part of me laughed. It was just so silly.

But another cried. And it wouldn’t stop for long after you’d fallen asleep.

I’m so sorry that this is the only way I know how to speak to you. It’s my fault. Sometimes I think if I knew how to speak to you better, then this wouldn’t all be so frightfully convoluted.

And I do know you think I have to grow up. I know you think I have been overusing your patience for far too long now. I know you think I should be less of a hassle. And I’m trying to be, believe me. I’m trying.

I might lose something, but I gain something far greater. Far greater than you, than I — far greater than any of this. And far more horrible. I really can’t help it. It’s as if I feel unwittingly drawn into this big abyss; but it’s dark, and so I can’t see what I will find at its bottom. That’s always the problem, right? We can see the summits, in plain view, but never the abysses.

So that’s the lap that I will fall into. That is the place I’m going back to. Maybe not the best place to be. But the only one I can endure. Maybe I really belonged with you up there, on the summits, but my wings could never carry me very high.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star...

The stars have their songs, too, but they are of a different kind. Of the quiet kind. Quiet, but no less entrancing. You need to listen, and only then can you hear them.

As I am writing this, Tia, I am realising something.

No matter how mellow your voice is, the stars’ songs will always be more beautiful. The night’s voice will always be the more eloquent.

I guess we all do have tendencies, Tia. No matter how far we try to stray from them, we orient our lives willy-nilly towards a goal, a direction. I know you think that I must make a choice. But that is asking too much of me, Tia. I can’t make that choice. I cannot pick one over the other; night over day; me over you.  That is asking too much of me. And so I surrender to the stream instead. Give in to the tendencies, get dragged along with the current. Because I can’t decide. I can’t even swim.

I don’t know where the current will lead me. But I know the voices. I know my cutie mark. I know my destiny. What good is there in trying to change it? Why don’t I finally go back to the darkness, where I belong?

Home?

That’s all I can say for now. I’m sorry this is so bad. I almost want to tear it up and throw it away.

In Love.

Luna

Celestia looked up.

Seconds passed.

The stars have their songs too... songs of a different kind. Of the quiet kind. Songs without tune... without words...

Gradually, a hollow pain spread through her chest, a strange warmth eventually permeating her entire body. It was numbing: a radiating, prickling heat, a hollowness that seemed to bite at her entrails. The room in front of her seemed to solidify and disintegrate. Her hoof was shaking. She dropped the letter.

With sore anticipation, she grabbed the envelope and shook it violently. Out onto the bedsheets fell a tiny, perfectly circular brooch. It was as dark as the night without light, without a moon.

She picked it up and held it into the light. Her own face glared back at her.

Through her torrent of tears, she suddenly realised that she was contemplating her next step. But not as a sister. As a princess.

It was at that moment that a thought formed in her head, a thought so large and so incredible that it chased all other distractions from her mind. A realisation. What if nothing was going to happen at the Gala at all? What if her mother had got it the wrong way around? If the sole purpose of Sweetcorn’s threat had been to focus the Queen’s and Stronghooves’ attention on the Castle, distracting them from something else that he had planned from the beginning?

Smoke and mirrors...

Wouldn’t that be just like him?

Wouldn’t it be just like him if he had foreseen Luna’s disappearance? Or caused it?

“The Song of the Stars,” she groaned. “The Song of the Stars...”

She cast open her doors. Loud music immediately blared in. The entire castle seemed to have become one giant, obscene music box. She wasted no time galloping through the corridors, her golden metal shoes clacking on the marble floor, dashing towards the one door that she needed to be open right now. A guard, in his decorated gold armour, cast her a surprised look.

“Where is the Queen?” she shouted in passing. “I need to see her immediately! My sister is — ”

“The queen is not here,” he said.

She immediately froze and stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“The queen is not here,” he repeated, a disquieted look on his face. “Queen Gaia has left the castle.  Didn’t you hear the news?”

Celestia felt all her newfound energy being drained out of her all of a sudden. “The news?”

“Well, he’s dead. Sweetcorn.”

Sweetcorn... dead? The words reached her mind slowly, like distant echoes through a solid brick wall, and she took her time in trying to put the pieces together. Sweetcorn — dead? It seemed impossible.

“When?” was all she managed to say. “How?”

“Just moments ago. And I have no idea how or what exactly happened. Apparently, Sweetcorn showed himself to his supporters on Canterlot Square. But it’s chaos down there. Maybe someone shot an arrow at him. That’s all I’ve gotten out of the heat of the moment. The Queen has left instantly to evaluate the situation, last thing I’ve heard.”

“But I don’t understand,” she said. “What's... what's it like on Canterlot Square?”

“Well, what do you think it's like?” he said almost sympathetically. “Ponies are out of their minds.”

None of this made any sense, no sense at all, and Celestia knew it all too well. The thought that Sweetcorn could be dead seemed outrageous. She fumbled to piece everything together.

“What about my sister, did — did you see her?”

“No,” he said, surprised. Her mentioning Luna seemed to have put a distant thought in his head. “Your sister, isn’t she the one who —”

“No, no, she is —” She tried to comprehend the situation as quickly as possible, unable to shake the feeling she was missing something obvious, something significant. “Who gave my mother the news,” she asked. He looked surprised.

“The head of the guards.”

Of course.

She nodded slowly. “My sister is about to hurt herself, do you understand? And my mother might be the only person that can keep that from happening. I need to find her, you got that? That is the only, the sole priority right now. I need to find my mother and I need to find Luna. Am I making myself clear? Drop all the rest. I will go through that window there right now, and I will leave the castle and find them.”

“My Princess,” he said earnestly. “I have explicit orders from your mother not to let you leave the castle. Explicit and emphatic. I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. Everything seemed to come together in this one moment of time; everything seemed to hang from the thinnest of threads, the Gala, her sister, Sweetcorn, Acier, and her entire future, too.

Her heart beat furiously in her chest, but to her mind had come a new, unforeseen kind of clarity, a super-real lucidity, that she had only felt once before: when she had found her way home that night after the Harvest Celebration. But this time, there was something different. This time she didn’t feel powerless. This time, she knew that everything depended on her actions, her decisions right now.

She opened her eyes again and stared the guard directly in the eyes.

“As Princess and designated heiress of the Queen,” she voiced clearly, “and therefore, as your superior, I hereby command you to step aside and let me pass unobstructed.”

She waited. She wouldn’t wait for long, that much was clear. But at that precise moment, Acier passed the corridor, a worn look on his papery eyes. He looked slyly from one to the other.

“Is there a problem here?” he said slowly.

“There is,” she said quietly, but distinctly. “There is a problem. And that problem,” she continued, staring him directly in the eye, “is you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tia, what —”

“Where is Luna?”

His eyes flashed, and he darted a quick glance at his subordinate. “I don’t know where —”

“Tell him to let me go,” she cut across him. “Tell him to let me pass and look for my sister.”

“I can’t do that, Tia. Your mother has asked that you not leave the castle.”

“Lies,” she breathed. The guard glanced uncomfortably from Acier to her, unsure how to react. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I haven’t figured out what’s going on here? This is all a ruse, a trick, right? Nothing was ever going to happen at the Gala, these ponies were never in danger. That’s what your master wanted, right? Have my mother’s eyes off Canterlot?”

Acier said nothing and continued to stare at her.

“Open the saddle bag.”

There was a wary glint in his eyes. For a moment, he did nothing but stare back at her, his expression absolutely inscrutable. The music seemed to have stopped. The guard held his breath.

“Open the saddle bag,” Celestia said again.

Instead of doing as he was told, he tried to reason with her. “Listen to me, Tia. You mustn’t leave the castle, you hear me? This is very important. Your mother has personally requested that you stay here in the —”

“Do you honestly think I’m that naïve?” she hissed. Of course, neither of the two responded.

His gaze turned grim, but she paid no attention. Instead, her eyes were firmly glued to the saddle bag.

Her horn glowed faintly, gently, and the bag’s latch undid itself. As the flap opened, a blinding light emerged from the gap. Wordlessly, she unsheathed the entire collar, a broad gold band with a large, rough diamond in its centre, sparkling with all the colours of the rainbow.

“The Eternal Flame,” she murmured.

The guard looked at her with wide eyes. Acier’s expression was inscrutable: he seemed to look at her with a pronounced, impenetrable neutrality. But Celestia watched the collar float towards her, as though all by itself, even though it was quite clearly herself who made it hover. It had a spellbinding sheen to it. Before long, the collar had laid itself around her neck, all on its own — the place where it had quite clearly belonged in the first place, it bolted through her head. She couldn’t understand why she had refused to wear it earlier. It felt so natural. The electric shivering jolted through her as her fur made contact.

She opened her wide, magenta eyes and looked at Acier. Everything was silent. The music far away. He looked back at her, apprehensive, but his eyes wide open, the connection between the two unbroken for now.

“You go get General Stronghooves,” she heard herself saying to the guard, who instantly obeyed and, happy to find a way out, dashed off. “I think I can handle this one,” she breathed. She stared at Acier.

“Where is Luna?” she said again.

“I don’t know.”

“Where is my mother?”

“I don’t know, Tia.”

She nodded slowly. For a moment, the two rested silent, eye in eye. Then she heard hoofsteps, and Stronghooves appeared around the corner. His eyes narrowed as he found the two in a like position, and then grew wide as he saw the collar with the heart-shaped diamond around Celestia’s neck. “Princess?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“He is to be arrested immediately.” She nodded towards Acier.

Stronghooves cocked his head. His eyes lingered on the collar around her neck for a second; then a thin smile spread over his lips. “It’ll be my pleasure, Princess.”

Acier suddenly moved as if coming to. “No, Tia, listen to me. You’re making a mistake. You mustn’t leave the castle. You mustn’t do this. Think of what your mother would do instead, think of grace and —”

“Yeah, well,” Celestia said loudly, “you can’t run a country on grace, love, or cotton candy, remember? Only swiftness and surreptitiousness ensure a quick and discreet victory, before the enemy even grows aware that she has nursed and harboured the assailant on her own demesne...” She gave him a skewed look, and only as he heard those words did a realisation seem to hit him. “Tia, no, I —”

But her patience was used up.

“I’m not a kid anymore. Stop wasting my time. Arrest him and let me be.”

You care, you lose.

“And I... I  entrust with you the safety of the castle during my absence, General.”

“Oh, yes,” he said as he stared towards the collar on her neck. “Yes, my princess. You can thoroughly rely on me.”

“And now,” she said, more to herself than anybody else, “it’s time to fix this mess once and for all.”

Luna, she thought. I haven’t let go of you yet. Stay in place while I come get you out of trouble once more.

Without further ado, she jumped out of the open window into the onsetting dusk. She caught herself in mid-fall, spreading her large, powerful wings and sailing swiftly on the wings of the wind. She looked down towards the castle as it glided away, saw the two sisters chasing their tail endlessly on the glass-stained window of the throne hall. On the other side of it, the celebration was ongoing, a feeble, wrong celebration, that grew ever farther away very quickly. She distinctly felt the Flame on her chest, a warm and heavy feeling, empowering and foreboding at the same time.

A lot of conflicting feelings were pent up in her, and flying as fast as she could seemed to either alleviate or suppress those feelings as she channeled all her energy into her wings, beating them furiously, then laying them snugly alongside her body to spearhead towards Canterlot below like a large bird of prey.

Off, far off in the distance, the first gleaming rooftops were becoming visible, the outliers of the city.

Whatever had happened, she could still save Luna. She was sure of it. There was still time. Everything would be alright.

But as she approached the city of Canterlot, hundreds of feet below, and the rooftops and alleyways grew larger, she noticed something strange. At first, she thought she witnessed a fire on the ground, from where must have been Canterlot Square: a massive column of what seemed to be thick, black smoke was billowing up. But if so, this smoke really was extraordinarily black. Not grey, not dark, but pitch-black, no ember to shine through, as absolutely black as the night without a moon...

Luna.

Her heart skipped a beat, her wings lost their graceful coordination, and she tumbled down towards the city, no longer any more agile than a boulder, her wings flapping about uselessly.

To be continued. Next chapter: The Descent.

It all comes crashing down...

Many thanks to my awesome pre-readers Mystic and RiffraffsElbow