i
Twilight and Celestia traveled as far as the rails could take them.
Then, they travelled the rest of the distance on hoof, taking turns pulling a small carriage bearing an array of long-distance radio equipment Twilight had managed to scour from a junkyard outside of Neighaghra Falls. Along with the complex-looking bundle of wires, dials, and antennas, the carriage was also bearing several heavy and bustling packs perhaps better suited for homeless vagrants or refuges from the law.
…Both of which, Twilight reasoned, weren’t exactly too far off from what they truly were.
Still, Twilight could hardly complain. Train tickets typically asked for more bits than she was willing to pay, but without wings she had no real way of leaving the city of Old Canterlot. Even though their road was paved by their own sorrow and fear, Twilight felt a little content trotting down it if only for the clean air and blue skies above that were such a rarity within the stacks. At night, while Celestia slumbered against the carriage, Twilight stood awake marvelling at the stars above that she could never have known while marooned in Old Canterlot.
Celestia had woken her early the morning after the hearing—hours before she had even raised the sun. Twilight had been startled not by Celestia’s gentle prod, but rather by the look of sheer defeat in Celestia’s expression.
“I am truly sorry for waking you,” Celestia had said. “But I’ve decided I would like to leave this hopeless and dirty slum of a city. I… need to breathe clean air and collect my thoughts after last night. I did not wish for you to wake up and worry about me, nor did I wish to leave without properly saying goodbye and thank you… running, of course, on the assumption that you do not wish to follow me into the literal unknown.”
And now, here they were, wandering alone together down a long-overgrown road. Perhaps decades or centuries ago, it had seen the revolving life of many a carriage’s heavy wheels, but now the town it led to was no more than some footnote on an ancient map—unnamed and unknown to the vast majority of Equestria.
Celestia, of course, was an obvious exception.
In another time, Celestia had explained, life along the North-Eastern Coast of Equestria had been a very different one. Small towns had been spread across the entire coast, most of them fishing-settlements or ship-building harbours.
Now, though, nearly all of the towns along the Eastern Coast were memories, and towering cities lay in their place.
The long expanse between Manehattan and the Crystal Empire, however, was an empty ribbon of untrodden warm beaches, and the two mares did not meet a soul as they travelled along them. Wild geese returning for the summer or cawing albatross foraging for fish became their company.
Twilight had been pulling the carriage when she felt it grind over something other than dirt and grass. Her eyes had been locked on her hooves, but nonetheless the object the carriage had ground over seemed to be buried underneath a dirt covering that time and neglect had provided.
She stopped, digging idly at the earth and parting the dirt below her hooves to look closer at what lay beneath.
It appeared to be a sign, but most of the letters were so discoloured that they might as well have been in a different language. The occasional letter was legible, but Twilight could only guess what ‘W—ome to D—k —lls!’ was intended to mean. Celestia, however, certainly seemed to. Despite the grim silence that had hung over her for the duration of their three day travel, she smiled wistfully at the sign, clearing it a little with her own hooves and letting out a long, nostalgic sigh.
“This must be the place. We’re here.”
The overgrown path branched in two directions and Celestia did not hesitate to lead the way to the left. Twilight, however, took a moment to look in the opposite direction. What looked like the ruins of an old tourist town existed only as ghostlike images. The frame of a Ferris Wheel and carousel seemed slightly more preserved compared to the cheap houses and lonely wooden posts of some long-destroyed boardwalk, but Twilight had no doubt that in its heyday, whatever forgotten tourist settlement she was beholding had been a proud and wonderful one indeed.
Celestia, however, seemed to have her mind set on some other point, for she was standing in wait some ways ahead, staring intently forwards in the direction of the other path stretching on unbroken for some distance, surrounded on both sides by an odd blend of both pine trees and palm.
Still lugging the carriage behind her, Twilight trotted after Celestia down the other path.
To Twilight’s right, past the sand dunes and wispy bushels of ammophila, Twilight could hear the sound of the ocean’s waves lapping gently against rock and sand. It was a repetitive but soothing song, and Twilight found herself casting the occasional glance to her right, trying in vain to catch glimpses of the ocean from beyond the sand dunes. For the most part, however, she walked with her eyes locked on her hooves trudging through the dirt and sand.
She did not see the beach house before her until Celestia spoke again.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Twilight Sparkle.”
Looking up, Twilight had to blink several times as her eyes adjusted to the sudden assault of unsullied blue sky. Framed within was a tall but humble beach-house that had most certainly seen better days. Still, it was a great palace compared to the rest of the ghost town—beyond a few holes in its A-Frame roof and a largely paint-less surface, the signs of former beauty still shone as clear as day. The rear of the house was held up on sturdy wooden stilts, where come high-tides Twilight presumed the ocean would be directly beneath the rear porch.
Still, despite its rustic beauty, it was still a humble beach-house in the middle of nowhere, and yet Celestia had just identified it as her own.
“You… this is… this is yours?” Twilight blinked.
“Indeed,” Celestia said. “It is my beach house. A very, very old house at that… much older than it may appear. You aren’t the only pony to protect her dwelling with enchantments.”
Shaking her way out of the carriage’s harness, Twilight followed Celestia onto the front porch of the old house. Celestia was waiting in front of a large round door, and the moment Twilight was beside her she turned and without any further hesitation fed magic into her horn and eased the old oak door open.
The rusty hinges showed initial signs of resistance, but Celestia’s magic was firm and she managed to open the door gracefully nonetheless. She proceeded into the house at a crawl which Twilight had no choice but to echo.
The inside of Celestia’s beach house was as underwhelming as the exterior; a beautiful home for any typical pony—especially ones with the benefit of living so far from the stacks—but a humble affair for the princess of the sun. The house was for all intents and purposes three rooms. The living space made up more than two thirds of the house, with a woodstove and cooking area on one side and a cozy little study in another. Celestia’s bedroom and the house’s bathroom were both faintly visible through half-closed doors, looking equally as humble as the rest of the beach house.
Even with a tiny sliver of reference, Twilight could see that Celestia’s bedroom was decorated with several ancient paintings of Princess Luna.
“I apologize for the lack of space,” Celestia said, fanning her hoof against the dust swirling like snow. “You can have the bedroom if you wish. Or we may alternate nightly, if you would prefer that.”
“It’s your house. You should sleep in your own bed,” Twilight replied. “Besides, with a view like this, I don’t think I’d really mind sleeping on the floor.”
Indeed, the view was nothing short of stunning. The entire back wall of the house was dominated by a window that stretched across the entirety of the wall and the height of the towering A-Frame. The ambiguous line of horizon blurred between blue sky and ocean was visible from anywhere in the house.
“Indeed.” Celestia shuffled off the straps of her saddlebag. “Despite the… poor memories this house evokes, I always find myself happy to return.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” Twilight agreed.
Scratching an ear, Twilight was rather tempted to add a great number of additional questioning remarks as to why they were there, of all places. Surely, with so much pain and fear on her mind, the very last place Celestia would think to flee would be a place with so many memories?
Such questions had been an ever present chorus in her mind during their three-day pilgrimage from Old Canterlot. While she had grown accustomed to Celestia’s cryptic behaviour, and while she had not lost any of the unwavering trust she’d placed in Celestia, their defeat at the hearing had added a certain layer of emotion Twilight had thought they’d buried when they had recovered the Sunstone.
The gaze of melancholic disappointment that Celestia had kept reserved for the lights of New Canterlot was now perpetually plastered on her frowning face. And once again, Twilight knew it was all directed inwardly, at her own shattered self.
Of course, Twilight could hardly fault Celestia’s desire for a moment to catch her breath, to evaluate her situation, to simply have her mind to herself without having to ward off an onslaught of slanderous claims about how much of a horrible monster she was. Twilight only hoped it was so simple, and that Celestia’s intentions to return to save the universe in some interstellar burst of incurable optimism were still a guarantee.
Even if Celestia hadn’t uttered a word expressing her desire to return.
Just as likely, a nagging voice in Twilight’s mind pointed out... Celestia had accepted her verdict at the hearing as her final defeat, and she had decided that living the rest of her days in isolation was only befitting of a failure such as herself.
ii
The final hours before sunset passed in a strange, trance-like blur. Celestia had spent an alarming portion of them simply staring at her hooves on the porch, lost in thought and lost to the beautiful blue ocean before her. Not wanting to interrupt Celestia’s reverie, Twilight had packed a saddlebag with food and had ventured off exploring the beaches of the isolated Eastern Coastal ghost-town. Yet when she returned she was troubled to find Celestia in the same place, wearing the same expressionless frown directed at hooves fiddling with each other and with bits of the porch’s cracked white paint.
After she had sent the sun on its sinking course beneath the calm evening waves, Celestia excused herself to her bedroom in a murmur, leaving Twilight by herself on the darkling porch.
The moment she was alone, Twilight was fumbling in her saddlebags for her lighter, and the moment she withdrew it alongside her pack of cigarettes, a familiar voice rung out.
“You stood me up, you little brat.”
Without breaking her gaze towards the last traces of dying sunlight, Twilight lit her cigarette. “I’m really sorry. Something came up.”
“Well, whatever,” Nightmare Moon crossed the porch until she was standing next to Twilight. She frowned at the horizon line; as though it were familiar to her.
“Surprised to see that Celly’s come back here,” Nightmare Moon said, confirming Twilight’s suspicions.
“Where?” Twilight asked. “Where is this place?”
“Wow... you really are a mindless little slave to Celestia, aren’t you?” Nightmare Moon sneered. “You honestly don’t know where you blindly followed her to?”
Twilight sunk her head and muttered that she did not.
“She mentioned it at that little kangaroo court,” Nightmare Moon explained. “When Luna and her were having their little spat, she moved here, thinking distance would actually make a difference. And guess what? It didn’t.”
“Wait… this is…”
“It’s a nice place,” Nightmare Moon shrugged. “Did you bring the Starstone?”
Twilight was tempted to offer a growling correction, but she knew better. “Yeah. I did.”
“Well, that’s insulting,” Nightmare Moon said. “You completely forget about me, but you remembered a freaking rock. Although I guess your feeble unicorn magic needs a little boost, huh?”
“I guess it does.”
“Well at least you’re aware of your boundless shortcomings,” Nightmare deadpanned.
Silence, for several seconds. Somewhere above the waves, a seagull was howling a disconcerted protest against the falling dusk.
To Twilight’s legitimate surprise, Nightmare Moon seemed content waiting patiently, as though she were earnestly intrigued by the familiar but half-remembered horizon before her.
“Well, are you going to raise my moon or what?” she eventually said. Like a candle being snuffed out, Nightmare Moon’s patience evaporated instantly and she gave her skeletal wings a peevish rustle. “While you’re young?”
In an instant, Twilight had flicked her cigarette into the ocean and was digging into her saddlebag in search of the Sunstone. A blush fueled by embarrassment and terror had spread across her face, and she stuck her snout directly into her saddlebag in a vain attempt to keep it hidden.
Withdrawing the Sunstone crown, she set it upon her head and instantly felt its magic fade into her own.
Nightmare Moon remained silent as Twilight hunted for the magical tug of the Moon, closing her eyes as Celestia had suggested. With the Moon below the horizon, its magical tug was less prominent, but after several minutes of searching and following the Sunstone’s pulses, she managed to locate it.
Once again, as Twilight took a deep breath and prepared to guide the celestial body through the humid early-spring air, Nightmare Moon rested a skeletal wing on Twilight’s back.
“I don’t know whether or not you have enough common sense to realize this yourself...” Nightmare Moon said. “But if you ever let Celestia find out what we’ve done, I’ll make sure the last thing she hears before I rip her to shreds is your screaming voice as I—”
“I get it,” Twilight growled, keeping her eyes squeezed shut and her attention on the tug of the Moon. “Can you please let me focus?”
For a foolish moment, Twilight had presumed Nightmare Moon’s strange and egotistical lust for her own moon would stave off her pride, but when she heard magic flare to life she knew had made a grave mistake.
Her eyes jerked open, her link with the Moon crumbled, and she felt Nightmare Moon’s magic envelope her body.
It was a terrifying repeat of her fury in the Catacombs, as Nightmare Moon once more lifted Twilight off of her hooves with magic centralized around her neck.
“Do you understand who you are barking orders at?” she spat. “For such an intelligent mare, I’d think you would not act like such an idiot perpetually!”
“I’m sorry!” Twilight shrilled. “I didn’t mean to…!”
“Have you forgotten that the only reason you’re still alive at all is because I decided it would be more interesting to keep you alive?!” Nightmare Moon said. “Whatever safety you think you have over me is an illusion. For your sake, I wouldn’t forget that. So don’t ever talk back to me like that again—or I'll slit the throats of every single pony you care about."
Nightmare Moon let her her magic dissipate and released Twilight with a shove. Twilight fell backwards against the porch’s railing, and the ancient and delicate affair crumbled a little, sending bits of wood and paint into the ocean below.
“Now hurry up and raise my moon, you miserable little rat.”
Twilight rose to her hooves, readjusted the Sunstone crown, and once again closed her eyes in concentration. The Moon’s magic stream showed itself with ease, and Twilight began casting her own magic as though she were levitating a feather into the air.
The Moon, of course, was no feather. As much as Twilight could feel its tug, she could do little else but allow her own magic to rub idly against it.
She had closed her eyes, but she could hear Nightmare Moon tapping a hoof against the wooden porch nonetheless, undoubtedly rolling her eyes at Twilight’s aimless attempts at casting magic.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” Twilight confessed, after wasting nearly a minute trying to shift the Moon from its sub-horizon perch. “I can’t… I can’t do it.”
“Well, try harder!” Nightmare Moon barked, giving the back of Twilight’s head a stinging slap with an armoured hoof. “Good heavens, you’re worthless!”
“I don’t know what to do!” Twilight said again, wincing for another impact the moment the feeble words left her lips. “Can you please help me?”
“First of all, open your eyes,” Nightmare Moon said, fortunately not hitting her a second time. “I don’t know why you’re closing them, but it makes you look like an idiot. Second of all, stop trying to levitate the moon. You might as well be trying to lift the planet of Equus closer to the moon.”
“But… but then how do I—”
“Shut up!” Nightmare Moon snarled. “I wasn’t finished speaking! You’re trying to use your magic like the Moon is just a tangible object in front of you. It doesn’t work like that. It’s not a matter of magical strength, it’s a matter of magical connection. Which is what the Sunstone is for.”
Twilight racked her brain, trying in vain to rationalize some course of action using Nightmare Moon’s vague answer. Eventually, the black alicorn let out a feral growl and elaborated.
“Stop using your magic to physically raise the Moon. Instead, establish a connection with the Moon first. It’s not a feat of magical ability, it’s a feat of abstract thought. Hell, it’s basically meditation. Why do you think Celestia gets so bitchy when you talk to her while she’s raising the sun?”
Twilight nodded, driving back protesting remarks towards Nightmare Moon’s hypocrisy as she refocused on the Moon, instinctively closing her eyes once again.
The Moon was there.
Twilight felt her magic cling onto its cold but welcoming stream.
Then, she let her mind wander and calm. For a moment, her thoughts were merely a looping call to silence, and then after some time they slowed into actual silence.
She imagined the Moon rising. She felt her magic coursing, but she felt it as though she were an outsider to her own influence—it was as though she were watching herself on a videotape, oddly unsure of what actions she would undertake despite already having done them herself.
The Moon was there. No longer hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, and no more than a feather hovering in her magic, and Twilight guided it upwards without thinking.
Then, like a dam bursting above an unsuspecting village, Twilight felt exhaustion suddenly sweep over her.
Twilight opened her eyes and nearly closed them again as they were assaulted by colourful sparks shooting from her own horn. A splitting headache had overtaken her thoughts, yet even through the sound of her blood rushing through her ears, Twilight heard Nightmare Moon let out a sudden chuckle.
“Congratulations, Twilight Sparkle. You just moved the Moon by less than a dozen feet.”
Twilight squinted, struggling to return focus to her world. At first, Nightmare Moon’s statement seemed to be a lie, for she could not see the Moon. Yet as she continued to stare it eventually revealed itself—a sliver of white caught in limbo between ocean and sky.
As Twilight stood staring, another wave of painful exhaustion swept over her. War drums were pounding in Twilight’s head and horn, and a hollow sense of fear had crept into her heart.
Nightmare Moon yawned. “It’s a start. Albeit a dwindling and unimpressive one… a perfect reflection of the insignificant little mare who pulled it off. Make sure you lower it before dawn. Celestia cannot know.”
“I feel… I feel exhausted.” Twilight said in between panting breaths.
While she dared not express so to Nightmare Moon, the hollow fear was still present, too. Or perhaps, Twilight realized, it was not fear but regret. Indeed, she had only succeeded in moving the Moon a sliver, but it was still a step down a path that Nightmare Moon was leading her down.
Twilight could not help but wonder if it was a path she would still be able to follow Celestia down, as well.
“Well, you’ve got all night to keep trying,” Nightmare Moon said, and yawned again. “If that Moon isn’t back below the horizon come dawn, you’re a dead mare. Hopefully that’s enough motivation for you.”
With her final threat uttered, Nightmare Moon vanished in a burst of purple mist.
iii
Twilight awoke, lightly starting as her eyes flickered open to a starry sky and a cool breeze.
Rising groggily, she found herself still on the porch. Twilight could only guess what time it was from the starry sky—the stars themselves were an unfamiliar sight, after all, and she herself had banished the Moon below the horizon, leaving herself with no other reference point.
A soft blanket had been placed on her back, and as Twilight’s eyes adjusted to the darkness lit only by starlight, she could see Celestia nearby, wide awake but slouching against the railing, her eye trained on some point she could not see and her eyeglasses folded delicately beside her.
Wordlessly, Twilight rose and sat beside Celestia. In her telekinesis she carried the blanket Celestia had given her, and she unfurled it over the princesses back. It was large enough to cover both mares, but much of Twilight’s fur was now exposed to the chill wind blowing in from the foreboding darkness of the ocean before them.
Celestia telegraphed her thanks with no more than a small smile, but after a day of silence between them it felt as though she’d just read an entire novel’s length of grateful remarks.
Twilight realized she had instinctively leaned partly against Celestia, as if for warmth in a blizzard. Neither mare had spoken, but it seemed to Twilight like her subconscious mind had decided that Celestia needed consoling all the same.
“May I ask you something, Twilight?” Celestia’s voice sounded somewhat weary—undoubtedly thanks to spending almost an entire day without using it.
“Of course.”
“Do you believe there is an afterlife?”
For a moment, Twilight simply stared as her mind reeled. Why would Celestia be asking her about the afterlife? Why would the immortal princess of the sun value any fool’s incoherent philosophical ramblings, when she herself likely knew the answer a thousand times over?
Still, Celestia had asked a question and Twilight couldn’t find it in her to simply respond with a murmured ‘I don’t know.’
Besides, Twilight had her doubts Celestia was looking for a mere yes or no.
“I think everypony likes to believe there is,” Twilight said. “I don’t know to what extent I do. I guess I just don’t like thinking about it much. The afterlife doesn’t really seem likely, but the thought of dying also terrifies me.”
Celestia did not respond beyond a slight nod of her head. Twilight scratched an ear, before awkwardly turning the initial question back towards Celestia.
“Is there an afterlife, Celestia?”
“I do not know,” Celestia replied earnestly. “Death is something I’ve only experienced externally.” Celestia frowned. “Although I do believe you are starting to become wary of my position there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do not believe it would be a great surprise to you if I were to confess that I am dying, Twilight Sparkle.”
Celestia’s words sent Twilight’s mind into a reeling spiral, even if they were indeed true—it had been a taunting suspicion at the edge of Twilight’s mind no matter how hard she tried to keep it buried. Nightmare Moon’s snide remarks regarding Celestia’s fate had only further deepened the gash, and only now did Twilight realize that, as villainous as she had acted, Nightmare Moon had yet to expose herself as a liar.
“Gradually, of course,” Celestia continued. “With alicorns, I don’t imagine it is quite so simple. I imagine we take decades… perhaps even centuries to die. Even now, I don’t feel as though I am dying so much as I feel like I am... ah, falling apart. Like an old carriage. I couldn’t tell you how much longer I have, but either way I know that my days are numbered.”
The tempest of terror and dread that had sprung into Twilight’s mind only grew in intensity, but when Celestia next spoke it was in a trained and comforting calm.
“That said, it is a high number. High enough that I have a few decades before it’s a pressing concern.”
For a mare who had lived long enough to be numb to any concept of mortality, Twilight found herself taken aback by just how calmly Celestia seemed to be facing the prospect of her own death. As though it were no more than a minor little deadline that she had to accomplish all of her goals before.
Twilight wondered if Celestia’s mindset truly was so streamlined. A simple matter of making sure Equestria was safe and peaceful before she left it forever.
Shaking her head clear, Twilight instead confronted the more important question. “Is there a way we can… we can save you?”
“Save me?” Celestia cocked her head. “I am not frightened, Twilight.”
“Well, I am! I don’t want to lose you! Equestria can’t afford to lose you!”
“Which is why we must take action to ensure that it can. Besides, I am ready to die, Twilight.”
“How can you say that?” Twilight could do little more than whisper the question, although hearing it out loud filled her with enough confidence to repeat it again with stern firmness. “How can you be okay with dying?!”
Celestia’s answer was a perfect calm, as though she were praising the weather. “Because at this point, I am simply exhausted. I miss my sister and my niece, and I wish to apologize to them both. Indeed, that is the only reason I have to fear death—I fear that there truly will not be a chance for me to tell Luna and Cadance just how sorry I am, and just how much I love them both.”
Shuffling a little and slightly removing her wing from Twilight’s back, Celestia frowned. “At the risk of you seeing me as a selfish old harpy, may I confess something to you, Twilight?”
Twilight’s voice had left her again, and so she settled with a vigorous nod instead.
“...I don’t want to go back to Equestria. I have no real motivation to retake my throne, and especially not to deal out any punishment towards those who have wronged me. I would prefer to simply live the rest of my life in peace here, instead of in crosshairs back home. Life has no value to me when nopony believes I deserve it anymore.”
Even within such a hurricane of somberness, Twilight felt a lump of optimistic emotion catch in her throat. A pulsing feeling of warm compassion brought her further into Celestia’s withdrawn wing, and she peered up into Celestia’s cataract-flooded eye screaming warnings of incoming blindness.
“Princess… that’s not selfish of you at all!” Twilight said. “You have every right to ditch Equestria. They’ve beaten you down and dragged you through dirt, and now they’re blaming the mess they made on you. If you don’t want to go back—”
“I don’t,” Celestia interrupted suddenly. “But that doesn’t mean that I will not. Those fools at the trial got one thing about me right: I’m going to save my dear ponies, and I don’t give a damn how much I need to tear myself apart in order to do so. Call it optimism, if you like.”
Twilight thought it more akin to suicide, but she kept silent.
v
“How about now?!”
Silence, for several seconds.
“No,” Celestia replied, audible through a small hole in the decaying roof. “Just static.”
Twilight blew her mane out of her eyes and fiddled with a sparking wire. She had foolishly figured that dragging the radio equipment to the beach-town all the way from Neighaghra Falls had represented the easiest part of setting the affair up, but as she attempted to configure it on the roof of the beach-house she’d quickly realized that the equipment had been left for dead for a reason.
She'd gotten it working twice before, but only questionably so. They'd sacrificed accuracy for range—giving them access to stations as far as Baltimare, but actually tuning into any station became a shamanistic affair of tedium. Over lunch and once more over dinner, Twilight and Celestia had fiddled with the dials of the radio, selfishly hunting for stories about themselves being relayed across the radiowaves, but if any were being told they were unable to tune into them. Instead, they only found jazz music, advertisements, and at one point a Prench talkshow that Celestia had lazily translated out of boredom.
Now, once more as the sun was setting, they were carrying out their fruitless scouring of the bandwidth.
“Alright…” Twilight raised the angle of the dish so that the long antenna was pointing West, at the moon rising over the heart of Equestria. “How about—”
“Stop! There! I just heard music! Move it back a little!”
Quickly but carefully, Twilight eased the dish back down. Below her within the house, she heard the radio flare a little with static as Celestia fiddled with the tuner. The harsh white-noise quickly broke away to a voice only slightly distorted by static.
Then, Twilight nearly fell off the roof of the beach-house when Celestia let out a surprised cry.
“Blueblood?!”
Twilight wasted no time scaling down the roof and instead teleported directly into the beach-house in a flare of urgently cast magic. Celestia was still fiddling with the dials of the radio, and soon the last of the static distortion dissipated and a stallion’s voice cut through clearly.
“—frankly, a selfish and batty old harpy who’d be better off dead...”
Twilight recognized the first voice instantly, even if it was one she had only heard once before. Prince Blueblood was hardly a pony easily forgotten. Despite never having crossed paths, Twilight and Blueblood shared similar goals and mindsets—both offered vocal opposition to Flim Flam Industry’s rule, although Twilight was lacking in both the respect and the wealth that Blueblood had in abundance. He’d benefited greatly from Celestia’s alleged passing and the will she had left behind.
Prince Blueblood had been opposed to Flim Flam Industry since Celestia’s suicide, but Twilight had always known it had been for his own selfish reasons. After all, in his eyes, Celestia and Cadance’s passing meant that Equestria rightfully should have belonged to him, and his refusal to drop his royal title seemed to prove that he felt so, too.
A second, more forgettable voice next rung out after Blueblood finished his brief tirade. A radio host, Twilight figured, or perhaps some representative of Flim Flam Industry, judging by how he spoke of them.
“I hardly think Flim Flam Industry expressed such things.”
“You did, though,” Blueblood responded shortly. “You didn’t say it like that, but you still said it. As if you’re in any way qualified to talk about a mare you know literally nothing about.”
A glint of something Twilight had never before seen in such visceral intensity had begun to glow in Celestia’s barely visible smile.
“I find it absolutely hilarious that nopony saw a problem with complete strangers passing judgement against my aunt’s personal character, without actually giving a shred of testimony from anypony close to her,” Blueblood continued. “But then again, I don’t like to think Equestria is so stupid as to not see a problem with that.”
“What exactly are you trying to suggest?”
“Pretty sure anypony with a brain can see what I’m trying to suggest. But whatever, I’ll spell it out; Just because you only broadcast opinions that support yourselves doesn’t mean every bit of public opinion supports yourselves. I know this, because the only reason I got this interview at all is by waving a chequebook for you gentleponies. You seem to be quite on edge since that hearing, and I believe the public’s eye on your actions is the reason why.”
“With respect, Prince Blueblood, Flim Flam Industry won that hearing.”
“Oh did you? Because I seem to recall Celestia’s rulership competence was proven to be strong, which was the whole point of the trial. You’re suggesting you had unspoken ulterior motives?”
For several seconds, static was the only reply to Blueblood’s snidely spoken rhetorical question. It was enough time for Twilight to look over at Celestia, a grin now quite visible on the old mare’s face.
Twilight had only just opened her mouth to speak when Blueblood’s voice crackled through the radio instead.
“I mean sure, you claimed my aunt to be some monster at that hearing, and I guess in the general sense you indeed ‘won’, but you raised quite a few eyebrows as to how you pulled it off. Ponies aren’t as complacent and stupid as you were hoping they’d be.”
“Never before did any of us say—”
“Well no shit you didn’t say that,” Blueblood cut in. Even with just his voice, Twilight seemed to know that he had rolled his eyes in irritation.
“Prince Blueblood, for the third time, I need to remind you that this is a public broadcast.”
“Oh, fuck off. Like you’re gonna stop me.”
Celestia let out an audible and uncharacteristic snort of laughter.
“Oh, Blueblood,” she whispered again. “I forgot how much I missed his charm. I’m so happy to hear that it hasn’t faded.”
Twilight was unsure if Celestia had even uttered the phrase for her to respond to, and so she remained silent.
Through the radio, Blueblood was now arguing with the other stallion about Florina’s behaviour during the trial. The other stallion was offering objections in between his own assertions that Florina represented an outlier in Flim Flam Industry’s mindset, and indeed that her actions should not be taken as an exceptionless representation of Flim Flam Industry.
In retrospect, Twilight reasoned, it should have been predictable that Flim Flam Industry would confront controversy by throwing Florina before it. Then again, her own morbid pessimism hadn’t considered the possibility of controversy even existing to begin with.
“That poor mare,” Celestia said passively, as though reading Twilight’s mind. “She said herself she wasn’t qualified to deal with a criminal trial, and now she’s facing condemnation from the very ponies who put unreasonable responsibility on her shoulders. I hope she does not lose her job because of me.”
Twilight had half a mind to grab Celestia and loudly remind her that she was sympathizing with the unpleasant mare who had indirectly brought about their temporary exile in the first place, but she stayed her tongue.
After all, wasn’t she the one doing the same with Nightmare Moon?
Shaking her head, Twilight refocused her attention towards the radio receiver.
“Well…” The stallion was saying. “I believe that is most of the time we have. Have you anything to add by way of closing remarks, Prince Blueblood? Perhaps to the listeners directly, or to Princess Celestia directly?”
“Sure, why not,” Blueblood said. “To Equestria: good for you. You raised your eyebrows at a shady trial, instead of blindly taking it as fact. And, earnestly hoping she’s listening, to my aunt...”
Blueblood paused. Twilight saw Celestia visibly tense at her name, spoken not with boastings of status but instead with the distant and alien mention of kinship.
“...Princess Celestia... please don’t freak out when you find out what I did to your personal airship. I assure you it was an accident, and nopony was hurt.”
“Duly noted,” Celestia replied aloud, wearing a wide smile hiding a barely-contained chuckle. “I lost the ownership to that airship when I delivered my will and died.”
Rising to her hooves abruptly, Celestia made her way towards the front door of the house without uttering a word. Twilight listened dumbly to her hoofsteps descending from the porch outside for several seconds.
She looked to the radio, which was now playing some syncopated showtune, and found herself unable to fully understand what her present emotions truly were. While they hadn’t the benefit of context, Blueblood’s speech and mannerisms seemed to suggest some distant inkling of optimism laying in wait for them back home.
An inkling echo of an Equestria that Twilight had long thought dead.
Perhaps Equestria still distrusted Princess Celestia—Twilight did not hope for that to change over the course of several days—but they were not as foolish as she had believed. Flim Flam Industry’s shady nature had been exposed in the limelight, and their actions had reverberated further than Twilight had suspected they would.
By the time Twilight had collected her thoughts and trotted after Celestia, she was momentarily surprised to see that the clearing before the beachhouse was entirely deserted, as though Celestia had simply vanished into thin air.
Then, a clinking of what sounded like glass against glass resounded to Twilight’s right, and Celestia emerged from subterranean steps with several dusty and ancient looking glass bottles hovering in her magic. She carried them proudly back towards the house, giving Twilight a playful smirk.
“Scotch,” she gave one of the bottles a playful shake. “I presume you’ve never tried magically aged, century-old scotch before?”
Twilight stared, dumbfounded.
“We’re relaxing,” Celestia elaborated. “That’s why we came here, after all. One of the benefits of long life is you eventually become an expert in the art of fermentation. Even if it sometimes occurs by accident.”
Twilight continued to stare.
Celestia cocked her head innocently. “I presume you’re more of a wine mare? That’s fine, I have a few tankards of that, as well, although I cannot vouch for its taste.”
Twilight followed lethargically, glancing behind her at the still-open trapdoor to the cellar and back at Celestia’s energetic stride. She crossed the front lawn and porch as though in a trance, a vivid contrast to Celestia’s abruptly acquired enthusiasm.
It was not until after a fire had been lit in the decaying fireplace and Celestia had wrenched the cork off of a bottle of liquor did Twilight finally break her silence.
Twilight cleared her throat. “Is everything alright, Princess Celestia?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You… nothing, I guess. You just seem…”
Stuttering into silence, Twilight found herself unable to articulate precisely how Celestia seemed to be acting.
“I’m celebrating, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia finished for her, taking a sip of the scotch as if to prove so. “I just had my nephew who I assumed would despise me instead vouch for my rule and character. Indeed, he vouched for me before all of Equestria. Prince Blueblood said what I myself have been too frightened to say ever since I returned. I’m celebrating, because when I return to Equestria I am doing so with newfound optimism.”
“Heavens know you deserve it,” Twilight muttered, finally taking a bottle for herself and popping off the cork with her magic. “I’m just… after that talk about... you know, having no motivation to go on…”
“I know,” Celestia said. “But I’m here right now. I’m alive now, and for once I feel optimistic about the prospect.”
Twilight shrugged. It seemed like a good enough thing to drink to, and so Twilight and Celestia did long into the growing night.
vi
“You certainly didn’t stay here long.”
Twilight did not turn to face Nightmare Moon, instead staring at the smoldering tip of her cigarette hovering in her telekinesis parallel with the ocean’s horizon-line. A sight that, come dawn, she would be putting behind herself.
“Can I ask you a question, Nightmare Moon?” Twilight asked, ignoring the black alicorn’s statement.
“I’m gonna assume you’ll ask no matter what I say. So whatever, go ahead.”
“What will it take for you to forgive your sister?”
Twilight braced herself as the words left her lips, fully expecting an armoured hoof striking her head, or some screaming insult of white-hot fury.
She certainly was not expecting a calmly-spoken counter-question.
“Forgive my sister for what?”
“For… for sending you to the moon.”
“Good heavens, you’re an idiot,” Nightmare Moon growled. “Do you seriously think my contempt towards Celestia comes from that?”
Twilight remained silent.
“Seriously. Let me ask you a question; were you dropped on your head as a filly or something?”
“I don’t understand,” Twilight said, ignoring Nightmare Moon’s jibe. “She loves you, even after everything that’s happened between you. She raises your moon even though it’s literally killing her. She waited a thousand years just to apologize. What more does she have to do for you to realize that neither of you have to be monsters to each other?”
“You’re wrong. Celestia doesn’t love me,” Nightmare Moon said. “Celestia hasn’t forgiven me, and Celestia hasn’t apologized to me, either. She’s done all that for Luna, but Luna is dead! I don’t care about Celestia at all!”
“I know that you’re not evil,” Twilight insisted. “You didn’t hurt me in the Catacombs, even when you could’ve. And you could’ve killed Celestia right then, but you didn’t. I know that some part of you doesn’t want to.”
Nightmare Moon hung her head and laughed. “Oh do you now? How heartwarming. But to answer your question: nothing. Nothing you or anypony else can do will change Celestia’s fate.”
Twilight continued staring spitefully at the horizon, running fruitless denials through her head.
Then, she snuffed out her cigarette, put the Sunstone on her head, and set to work on raising the Moon.