//------------------------------// // Inostrantsewa (Pt. II) [VIII] // Story: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight // by NorrisThePony //------------------------------// v Celestia was waiting in the library’s study when Twilight Sparkle finally returned home. She had been staring directly upwards at the ceiling, laying lazily on the hideous but comfortable couch and watching the motes of dust dancing about and doing her best not to let sleep overtake her. The ancient double doors to the library had not been properly cared for in at least a decade, Celestia presumed, for despite the cautious intent of the pony opening them, their creaking resounded through the library and acted as a siren to signal Twilight’s return. Twilight, however, instantly began making her way towards the sorting room the moment the door was closed, evidently taking great caution not to make any noise as she did—like a mischievous adolescent sneaking out to go to some forbidden midnight gathering their parents didn’t approve of. Celestia watched her for several seconds from the study, before breaking her own cover as she stepped out of the shadows into the little pool of moonlight in the center of the library. “Twilight,” Celestia said. She spoke softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hail pattering against the skylight, but it was the only other sound and Twilight heard her clearly nonetheless. She froze, and then slowly turned to face Celestia, her head ducked in shame and fear. “It is three in the morning.” Celestia began advancing towards her. She tensed a little, and Celestia frowned sadly. “Where were you, Twilight? Are you alright?” “I’m fine,” Twilight replied curtly, still staring at the cold library floor. “I was… I was just… uh, out.” The distinctive bitter scent of alcohol and tobacco smoke was clinging to Twilight’s fur, and Celestia was no fool as to misinterpret just where ‘out’ was, but she saw no reason to drive the mare into a further state of fear and distress. Besides… Twilight was a grown mare, after all, and Celestia had to remind herself that she deserved no place in her affairs. If she wanted to cope with troubling news in a dingy Old Canterlot bar, that was her right. Still, Celestia was at least permitted the right to be concerned for Twilight Sparkle’s well-being. “You look greatly troubled, Twilight.” Indeed, Celestia thought that her ragged and tired apperance was beyond one of mere exhaustion. In some places, Twilight’s mane was hanging in strands—a shadow of its carefully updone state. She looked through cold, scared eyes that spoke echoes of some dissipated fear, and Celestia had the impression Twilight had cried a great deal during some point of her long evening ‘out.’ Celestia frowned. Just what had happened to her? Twilight rustled a little, as though preparing to turn and leave, and she spoke in a low mumble. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.” “About me?” “I don’t care about what Raven said you did,” Twilight replied. “I care a little that you wanna keep it a secret, but I guess that’s not my business, either.” With a deep breath, Celestia let the bulk of her fear and uncertainty taper away into the near-freezing air of the library, and allowed herself a thin smile slightly weighed down by exhaustion. “Firstly… thank you. I’m glad that our trust towards each other’s understanding is mutual,” Celestia said, and then yawned. “If you’re not troubled because of me, then what? You look unwell.” “Celestia, I’m really tired. And slightly drunk,” Twilight replied after a short pause. “Can this please wait?” To Celestia, Twilight’s real answer was just as clear from beyond her honest words. “It’s not your business to know,”  Twilight’s tired eyes said. “So I’m not going to tell you.” Celestia smiled. That was alright. As Twilight trusted her despite her actions, she would trust Twilight despite her overprotective fear. “Luna,” her sad, gnarled little brain reminded her. “Cadance.” Not Twilight. She wouldn’t let it happen to Twilight. She was done losing those closest to her. She wouldn’t let fate tear her fleeting little promise of inner peace away this time. “I understand.”  Celestia shrugged. The battle could wait. “Then I bid you a good night sleep.” vi In her time, Celestia had presided over her fair share of trials and hearings. It hadn’t been often—crime warranting her unparalleled judgement hadn’t occurred often—but the judge’s bench was hardly an unfamiliar place to Celestia every time she stood upon it. Sitting at the defendant's table, however, was an entirely foreign experience. When she sat down, she did so with an inhibitor on her horn. She still had an instinctive desire to melt the degrading thing into ash, but she knew it had no role in blocking her magic anyways. Instead, its purpose was to send off a less-than-discreet signal in the event that it detected any trace of dishonesty in her words. Celestia had seen them before and she knew they could be deceived, but nonetheless she found herself content with the knowledge that, to Equestria, everything she would be saying would be honest. She did not have to worry about Flim Flam Industry claiming that she was simply lying through her teeth. In a way, their underhanded attempts to expose her had given her an advantage. As Celestia had been expecting, the courtroom was brimming, on both the balcony and the benches. On the rare criminal trial she had overseen it had been considerably busy, but never so much as now. It was not often a princess was put on trial, after all. Celestia was sitting alone at the defendant's table—Twilight had wished to join her but regulations of etiquette had prevented her, and now she was gazing ahead from the front row of the public benches wearing a cloudy gaze somewhere between terror and excitement. The bench Twilight was sitting at was one of the only sparse ones—it seemed as though ponies were deliberately keeping their distance, as though Twilight carried some contagious illness. As though the madness Equestria suspected of her was visibly clinging to the timid mare like a revolting parasite. A sideways glance, and Celestia was hardly surprised by what she saw at the table of her opposition. Even now, Flim and Flam seemed to have regarded her affairs as trite and irrelevant, for her opposition did not include them in person. There were a number of ponies in suits who all seemed to be speaking to one pony in particular, and when they shifted Celestia realized it was one she was already acquainted with. It was a pony she was fairly apathetic towards—Florina Harshwhinny was conversing with them in between subtle glances in Celestia’s expression. She looked rather annoyed with them, and apparently she had no reservations expressing such because they eventually gave her a curt nod and turned to leave while she continued barking rude remarks in their direction. The moment they broke contact, Florina turned and started towards Celestia, rolling her eyes as though she had just been conversing with a group of insolent children. “Good afternoon, Celestia,” she said as soon as she was at Celestia’s table. “How are things?” “Quite alright, Miss Florina. Are you… what exactly are you doing here?” “Representing Flim Flam Industry.” She waved a hoof breezily, as though it were a minor hobby of hers. “Not really part of my job description to do so on a courtroom level, and apparently there are some ponies who think I need tutoring on the matter, but I guess being the first to make contact with you has granted me extra responsibilities.” Make contact. As though she were some extraterrestrial. Surely Flim Flam Industry had seen how efficiently this mare had gotten under her skin during the radio broadcast, and were hoping for the same magic to be cast again. “I mean, I’m not complaining so long as they keep bumping my salary.” Florina shrugged. “So I take it you are to be arguing for a verdict against me?” “Well, I mean, verdict sounds kinda harsh. You’re not being found guilty of anything, after all. Rather, I’m trying to prove to the public that you should be barred from any sort of democratic voting process.” “I see,” Celestia said. “Florina… at the risk of sounding as though I am… uh, cajoling, I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour towards you last week. I was rude and confrontational when I shouldn’t have been.” “Sure you were, but you were rude and confrontational towards a mare representing a bunch of ponies who treated you like absolute dirt. I didn’t take it personally. Dealing with belligerent ponies is basically my job, after all.” The remark seemed caught in a limbo between good intentions and harsh judgement. Celestia hadn’t been belligerent had she? “Thank you,” she said simply. “Sure, sure. Anyways, I’d better hit it. I’m supposed to be making sure you’re briefed on court etiquette, but considering you’re the mare who wrote half of the book, I don’t see the point. Really, nothing’s changed… beyond the fact that I’m the Crown and not you. Also, any confessions you make that aren’t directly related to your rule aren’t going to land you in any criminal allegations.” “That is an abrupt thing to suddenly be dropping upon me.” “Yeah, well, take it or leave it, Celestia,” Florina replied, growing impatient. “Now, if that’s all, I’m not supposed to be talking to you outside of the hearing beyond etiquette briefing.” “Ah. I understand,” Celestia said. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble. Good luck, Miss Florina.” Florina nodded and left in the direction of her own table without uttering a ‘good luck’ of her own. It felt like an eternity, but eventually the presiding judge entered—in terms of appearance and mannerisms he was as typical as they came, but nonetheless Celestia and everypony else in the court rose respectfully and stayed on their hooves as he scanned them thoughtfully for several seconds before sitting down. And, abruptly, with a mere wave of his hoof, one of the first major turning points of Celestia’s new life began. “Miss Celestia, you may proceed with your opening remarks to the jury.” “Certainly,” she said. Celestia rose to her hooves, and turned to face the expecting ponies who shirked a little as they locked eyes with the infamous princess. She met them with an honest smile, but it did not seem to matter. She cleared her throat and began. “Good morning, fillies and gentlecolts. I am here before you with the burden of proving my own adequacy to rule. But more so, it is my intention and desire to disprove what has been said against me. To some of you, I am a tyrant. A cruel and despotic ruler who has been hiding a selfish mare behind fake smiles. To some, I played you all for fools, having you bow to me as though I were some goddess, the whole while pretending to be some humble matriarch. “Additionally, according to Flim Flam Industry my rule was one defined by absolute authority. What I saw fit, they claim, is what I subsequently exercised. According to them, I did not give a damn what any of my subjects wished in the event that my own judgement contradicted them. “But that is not the mare I truly am. I love my ponies, I love my country, and I wish only for the best for everyone. I am not a tyrant hiding behind falsity. I am not indifferent towards the will of my subjects and I am not purposefully ignorant to their desires. Such has been claimed of me, but it has been done so without evidence nor confirmation, and yet it has been flaunted as factual. It is not. I do not deny that my position as sole monarch of Equestria placed me at an unmatched level, nor do I deny that my choices were not final by law. That would be a lie on my part. “But this does not make me a tyrant. It does not make me indifferent towards the will of my subjects, and it does not mean that I did not consider them greatly before I made every single decision that I had ever made. Never before did I act without consideration of a pony’s best interest nor without letting ponies express their desires. During my rule, I held court for as much as forty hours a week—where ponies came to me with their issues and concerns and I listened intently. I can prove—not with baseless theorizing and slander, but with factual documentation—that these issues and concerns were almost always met, and that my final word, as evil as Flim Flim Industry claims such a thing to be, has ultimately helped Equestria to become a fairer and more just society than it presently is. “To reiterate as clearly and simply as I can manage… no, I do not deny that my rule was one technically defined by absolute power. It was. However, I do deny that such a thing inherently makes me an evil and tyrannical mare, and that I exercised such power to any degree that could possibly warrant such claims. It is my belief that through careful analysis, you will find that my rule was not one defined by despair and oppression but by prosperity, peace, and freedom. I intend to show that Flim Flam Industry have failed to factually prove otherwise and have thusly failed to justify my unlawful imprisonment. Thank you.” As she made her way back to her table, she allowed herself a quick glimpse at Twilight. “Damn right.” The unicorn mouthed, giving her a supportive nod. “Alright,” the judge said lazily. “But… uh, can you please state your name, age, and occupation for the record?” There was a silent ripple of laughter in the court—Celestia included—but nonetheless she stood and spoke clearly. “Celestia. Unemployed. Age: two thousand seven hundred and fifty nine. And still feeling quite young.” Another ripple of polite chuckles, and Celestia sat back down feeling oddly thankful for the unnecessary interruption. If she could evoke playful cheerfulness in so somber a setting, perhaps her little glimmer of hope wasn’t as dwindling as she’d feared. “Thank you. If that is all, then Flim Flam Industry are invited to begin presenting their case against Miss Celestia.” Across the room, Florina stood up proudly once again. She locked her gaze first with the jury, then the judge, before finally resting it on Celestia. “Let’s start right from the top,” Florina began. “Would you mind telling how you initially took the throne, Miss Celestia?” “As in… how I took it twenty-five hundred years ago?” “Yes.” “Well, prior to my taking of the throne, Equestria—then called Erisia, mind you—was ruled by the Lord of Chaos, Discord,” Celestia said. “When I was twenty two, I defeated him with the help of my younger sister, Luna, then sixteen years old. In the wake of his rule of despair, Discord left few followers who represented a minority. Luna and I took on the duty of rulership.” “Twenty two and sixteen. Those ages are…” “In ordinary years, yes.” Celestia nodded. “So you started ruling when you were twenty two.” “Yes.” “I presume that any system of training was never provided to you?” “That is correct. Luna and I formed a basis of laws centered around basic moral principles.” “Your personal moral principles?” Celestia frowned. “I suppose.”   “What about your alicorn ascension, and the raising of the sun? Are those two events directly correlated?” “I earnestly am not sure,” Celestia admitted. “My wings grew when I was entering adulthood, and I first rose the sun after attempting to wrench it from Discord’s grasp. A link between the sun and myself only grew out of decades of repetition. If my alicornhood and my status as raiser of the sun are directly correlated, it is by a system of fate I confess I do not understand.” “So to reiterate what you just said, you don’t actually know why you are a princess.” Celestia cocked her head. “I did not say that.” Florina shrugged. If it was a point worth pursuing, she saw no reason to. “To summarize then; you took the throne fresh out of fillyhood with no experience solely because of the fact that you successfully carried out an act of regicide against the reigning king?” The courtroom filled with sudden murmurs, and Celestia bristled as though the bluntly expressed question had physically hurt her. And yet any denial on her part would have been a lie. “Yes, I suppose that is an accurate summary. But I do not believe I need to point out the nature of this king. Discord was a spirit of pure chaos. Ponies lived in fear and misery under his rule, and were actively seeking ways to usurp his rule themselves.” Florina smiled and glanced at the inside of a manila envelope om her desk. “According to your testimony.” “You don’t seriously expect testimonies from twenty-seven hundred years ago to retain any significant level of accuracy!” Celestia protested. Florina shrugged. “I’m merely pointing out the hypocritical fact that, after your adamancy regarding Flim Flam Industry’s lack of evidence, you cannot produce sufficient evidence yourself that your own rule is justly founded.” Another bout of murmuring, this time heavy enough to warrant a gavel slam from the judge. “Miss Celestia, do you have any objections?” Celestia knew better than to tread onto ice she was unsure the thickness of. “No, I do not. Merely that such accusations are mere speculation.” “Noted. Miss Florina, are you finished with your argument?” Florina gave a snorting laugh.  “Are you kidding?” Turning her attention back to Celestia, she continued on with reinvigorated energy. “Alright, let’s move forwards to things we can prove with evidence, hm? Just so I’m clear, in your opening speech, you said you ‘consider the will of your subjects greatly before every choice,’ correct?” “Indeed,” Celestia said. “And yet you admit yourself that you carry absolute power. Meaning, any and all objections can be overruled by yourself, or simply ignored completely?” “Yes, but I would by no means—” “I’m not saying you would. I’m asking if you could.” Celestia frowned. “Yes. As princess, I had absolute power.” “So, to summarize, you carry absolute power, but you don’t exercise any of it until you have considered the will of your subjects,” Florina said. “Now, it posits that the more risky or intense the choice, the more consideration you would apply, correct?” “Of course.” “Alright. Then I must ask what exactly happened to this thought process in regards to the Crystal War.” Florina waved a hoof, and suddenly, the slide projector whirred to life. A flicker of light, a loud click as the carousel shifted, and Celestia felt her heart sink. “Is that your writing, Miss Celestia?” It was hardly a document she could have shredded or stuffed behind a potted plant—not that she practiced anything besides organization. Especially in regards to a declaration of war. How Flim Flam Industry had gotten a hold of it, she didn’t even bother speculating—they owned her castle now, why not everything that was within? “Yes,” Celestia said, already knowing exactly what Florina’s attack was. Florina grinned in preemptive victory. “Now, interestingly enough, you signed this declaration less than forty eight hours after the Crystal Empire materialized. Is that correct?” “Yes.” “I find it very interesting that your signature is all alone on this document. Did you hold a parliamentary meeting for this decree?” “I held a meeting to announce we were going to war,” Celestia said. “But, since I know that isn’t what you asked…” She let out a long sigh. The only way out was through. “No. I did not allow this to be a matter of debate. But I had very good reasons for doing so. When the Crystal Empire emerged, it did so… ah, all cylinders firing, as they say. While I never recommend villainizing anypony or anything, dark magic corruption had disintegrated any equinity King Sombra possessed. He was willing to use mind-altering magic in order to twist ponies into thoughtless beings, instincts of violence and survival excepted.” Celestia realized she had flared her wings proudly at someplace during her speech while twisting the direction of her words from Florina to the jury. It mattered little to her, so long as everypony in the room heard what she had to say. “Immediately upon its emergence, this is what I was confronted with. My country was entirely peaceful—I have a plethora of evidence to support this but honestly, it’s common fact—and our armies were rather pitiful as such. Yes, I gave the order for war autonomously and quickly, but by the time I did, King Sombra had mobilized against Equestria.” To Celestia’s barely contained delight, Florina frowned. A wordless telegraph that she had no more plans to keep tugging at the thread she had presented. Celestia didn’t smile, but she only barely prevented herself. For the first time, she had gained a point in her favour. Still, there was no reason not to twist the dagger Florina had accidentally stabbed into herself. “I realize it was a controversial decision, but seeing Sombra treat the Crystal Ponies like the expendable cannon fodder he saw them as, I do not regret trying to turn the tides at the first opportunity I had.” Perhaps Florina had been trying to flee from the thread she had presented, but now she had no choice but to confront it once more. “I simply mention your swift decision to highlight the fact that you made no attempts for a diplomatic solution.” “A diplomatic solution,” Celestia repeated bluntly. “With the stallion who had no moral quandaries emptying out the minds of his own subjects in order to rewrite them as violent animals.” There had been much worse examples Celestia could have provided from a thousand years prior to drive forwards her point—ponies… her ponies, hung from street lamps in Neighagra Falls after it had been taken by Sombra’s forces, the sad faces of slaves peering at her on the decks of ships sailing north… Celestia shook her head clear. She’d already made her point, there was no sense nullifying it with what might be seen as melodramatic hyperbole. “My actions, autonomous as they had been, managed to move a peaceful nation to a state of total war swift enough to even out and then ultimately win a war seriously skewed against us.” Celestia waved a hoof. “If that is somehow a sin on my part, I can do little else but confess.” “Perhaps, from a tactical perspective,” Florina mused. “But what about the individual ponies you sent to fight? I understand that you refused to have a conscription and took the front-lines yourself in order to make up for your smaller army, but regardless is it false to say you sent ponies into battles they had no idea the scope of?” “Not ever against their will,” Celestia replied. “But, yes, to be realistic… as long as I’ve been on the throne, violence has never been the norm. To say that everypony was completely prepared for what they saw is indeed untrue, but I do not quite see how a populace more accustomed to peace than war reflects poor leadership on my part.” “Okay,” Florina said simply. A one-word admission of defeat.“Truthfully, full-scale war is a complicated issue, one that we cannot possibly hope to blame exclusively on you personally. I admit that your leadership decisions seem to be consistently in the right from what the Crystal War has demonstrated. So let’s move to a different aspect of your rule.” Celestia shuffled a little. What was Florina leading to? It was unmistakable—her trademark knowing grin was back and her gaze frequently shifted from the jury to Celestia, as though she had just done something considerably impressive and was hoping everypony in the room had witnessed her. “Tell us about Nightmare Moon, Miss Celestia,” Florina said. And then in an instant, Celestia knew. She’d been fearing it for nearly a week and yet it had lapsed her mind the moment she had stepped through the double doors into the courtroom. Obviously, Nightmare Moon would be Flim-Flam Industry’s royal flush. “Of Nightmare Moon...” Celestia began. “...I can explain very little. Of my sister, Princess Luna, I can explain anything you need to know. She was my sister by blood, my equal by power, and my best-friend by relationship. But she had little interest for politics and was always content leaving such affairs to me.” “‘Always content.’” Florina repeated. “Then where, exactly, did the fearsome ‘Nightmare Moon’ come from?” “The twilight over our relationship grew after the first war with King Sombra. My position at the head of the public eye as well as my insistence on not putting my younger sister in the front lines of battle... it was done with good intentions, but it gradually twisted the public’s perception against my sister. Already she had been growing cold in the shadows. “After the war ended, we were both quite aware of the jealousy that she was harboring—in an effort to mend fences, I spent a summer away and left the nation in her hooves, but it did not help.” The memories felt cold and foreign to Celestia, like a half-remembered storyline to some book she’d forgotten she had read. “The rest plays out quite like how the history books claim,” she continued. “In a hasty moment of jealousy and desperation, she meddled with dark magic she truly should have left be. It twisted her mind and transformed her into Nightmare Moon and with the promise of power she did little to stop the magic’s influence on her. I attempted to reason with the beast but it was to no avail. My sister was gone and it had no future intentions beyond a quick death for myself and a slow one for my ponies. I was forced to use the Elements of Harmony against her.” “Huh,” Florina said. “How did that make you feel?” “How did that make me feel.” Celestia repeated. Apparently, hearing it twice wasn’t enough, for she felt a strange compulsion to say it again, to keep saying it over and over and over like a madmare. How did it make her feel? How did it make her feel? “How did it make me feel?” Celestia rose to her hooves again, with enough intensity that Florina actually tensed a little. “There do not exist words to adequately describe how it made me feel. There is no comparison I could make that anypony in this room could possibly understand in order to explain how it felt. I know loss, I am sure many ponies here know loss. I know guilt, and I am sure many ponies here know guilt. But those sensations are nothing when weighed against the emptiness of knowing one’s immortal companion is gone, perhaps forever, and now one has to face etern—” “Alright,” Florina cut in abruptly. “So it made you feel really bad. Thank you.” It took all of Celestia’s willpower not to put the insolent mare in her place with some furious retort, but in the delicate context of Luna’s death Celestia knew it would be a poor decision to allow any room for error or mixed messages. “I didn’t know Luna would return in a thousand years,” Celestia spoke softly and carefully instead. A cautious tone one might hear an old mare tell a bittersweet story in. “I had only used the Elements of Harmony on another creature once before—Discord—and I had no way of knowing how they functioned. I did not know if they had vaporized her and carved her face into the moon as a reminder, or if she truly had been transported there. To keep myself sane, I began telling myself the latter, but I could never truly convince myself it was not a lie. “So when my sister did return, my emotions were perhaps blinded by my own relief. I guess I foolishly assumed a thousand years had allowed the dark magic around her to evaporate, but to her it was an instant since we had done battle...” She trailed off. A feeling like a chill wind crept down Celestia’s spine as the rest of her confession reverberated through her mind without leaving her lips. Perhaps through deceit and lies, she could twist Nightmare Moon’s fate to her advantage. Spin exaggerated tales of her crimes, tales that nopony could disprove. And while she could not prove them herself, they would at least add credibility to any plea of sympathy she could make towards forgiving her own act of fratricide. After all, it was the one crime that no amount of political justification could ever provide any level of equinity to. Even if what she had done had been ‘right’, she could never convince anypony it had been good, for truly it was on the opposite end of the spectrum. And Celestia herself knew that the only pony worse than one guilty of terrible crimes was one who believes they were not crimes in the first place. She could drag Luna’s name and transparent image through the dirt and nopony would be able to prove otherwise. It would at least grant her a bit of immunity from any cries of heartlessness against her. With a deep sigh, Celestia knew she had only ever pondered the thought for the satisfaction of denouncing it. “My sister’s death was my doing,” Celestia said. “It was my fault, and I make no effort to deny it. I merely ask that everypony understand that of all the difficult things I have been forced to do, this choice was one I would trade my own life to never have to make. It is my greatest shame.” “Ah,” Florina mused. “But is it your greatest regret?” Celestia nearly grinned—this mare had a diabolically smooth way with words. “No. I do not regret the decision I made. I merely abhor the fact that it is one I had to make.” Florina’s response was one word, spoken as a command. “Elaborate.” “With pleasure,” Celestia replied. “Nightmare Moon may have been my sister in blood, but that does not change what her desires were. And those desires were eternal night—which would be catastrophic to all living things. Furthermore, your criticisms of my alleged tyrannical nature would look quite humorous when weighed against what her prospect of leadership was.” “You didn’t answer my question at all.” “I believe I did,” Celestia replied. “Nightmare Moon wished to bring about slow global extinction framed by a rulership based entirely around ensuring she is pleased—the happiness and will of her people be damned.” Florina rolled her eyes. “Once again, Celestia, you didn’t answer me. I understand that Nightmare Moon was a fearsome foe, but I do not understand why you do not regret taking her life.” “Because I did so to save my country.” “You mean you did so to keep your throne.” “That’s not true!” Celestia protested. “Are you suggesting I care so little about my own kin that I would—” “I’m suggesting that no matter how important you see your sister as, you see keeping your ponies safe and happy as more important,” Florina cut her indignant reply short. “And, you also see your rule as superior to that of your sister, which according to your testimony is indeed a tyrannical one. Therefore, keeping your throne is more important to you than your sister.” “That reasoning is flawed and you know it,” Celestia growled. “A child could easily see that.” The long-dormant judge narrowed his eyes as he addressed Celestia. “Miss Celestia, please keep your responses civil and collected.” “This is ridiculous,” Celestia said. “I suppose my battles with Tirek and Chrysalis were both desperate attempts to keep my throne, too?” “At no point did I say keeping your throne is deserving of condemnation nor that it was not for the best interest of Equestria,” Florina said. “I merely said that it is the consistent reason behind your actions. You see fit to keep your rule in place, which in turn keeps peace in place. You also do not allow any of your personal feelings to impact doing what is fair. Is that incorrect?” “It is…not,” Celestia sighed, although it was perhaps an over-generalization. “What are you attempting to suggest I am?” “You’re assuming the worst of me.” Florina smiled. “All I am attempting to do is highlight the direction of all of your actions. You act without a tinge of personal interest. Hell, one perusal of your treasury spending and we would see that you hardly lived life like the privileged monarch you actually were—excluding the wages for your cleaning staff and meals, the majority of your monthly treasury was spent on books and knitting wool.” Even amidst the intensity, Celestia almost broke her stoic frown with a chuckle. Almost. “You’re not a mare interested in benefitting herself,” Florina summarized. “Your interest instead lies on your nation.” To Celestia’s great surprise, Florina’s argument seemed to end at that. On the surface was no dagger that had been brandished in her direction, and no presumptuous claim regarding her subtle tyranny. In fact, Florina’s overgeneralization seemed to be a… rather kind one. A glance behind her, and Celestia saw that Twilight, too, seemed greatly confused, but she did not seem to possess any actual suspicion. Celestia, however, was frightened. For Florina’s argument may have been smiling at its surface, but she was no fool. No personal interest. All the will of her nation. No personal interest…. Luna’s death. Her throne. Her ponies. Her rule. But all for them. Every one of them, and yet not a single one. Slowly, Florina’s true intention reared its ferocious teeth. She had just told the jury and everypony watching from the benches what Celestia herself could hardly convince herself was a lie. Her actions spun in favour of her ponies, and she didn’t give a damn how it made her feel. She would sacrifice every bit of herself for everypony else. But it was hardly a compliment. Because it made her inequine. A machine. A cold, calculated ruler who saw her ponies as a whole and not a single one as different. No exceptions, no mercy for any outliers. Not even her own sister. A good ruler. A tyrannical one, too. Perfectly fit to rule, and still perfectly deserving of the gallows or the guillotine, too. “I love my ponies,” Celestia whispered. The words sounded distinctly conflicted, and she was well-aware of the wavering in her voice as she spoke. “...And I love my sister.” “Noted,” Florina said bluntly. “And never questioned. Can I bring up the topic of your mental health?” Celestia had little choice but to answer with a grumbled ‘yes.’ “Do you consider yourself a violent mare, Celestia?” “Certainly not.” “But, in times of provocation, you have acted with violence?” she pressed. “Why not provide me with an example?” Celestia challenged, unsure whether it was annoyance or desperation feeding confrontation into her sharp voice. “Sure. How about Queen Chrysalis?” “If you are asking me whether or not my assault was one fueled by emotion…” Celestia had a denial churning through her mind, but she trailed off the moment she remembered the device on her horn, monitoring her fluctuating pulse and searching her consciousness for lies. “Yes,” Celestia confessed. “Queen Chrysalis had violently murdered my own niece before me, laughing whilst doing so. Princess Cadance was losing blood, there was an active foe before me… I took immediate action to both eradicate a present threat and thus allow myself time to turn my attention to healing my dying niece.” “Okay,” Florina said. “Two additional questions, then. Firstly, when you were imprisoned and you saw your niece preparing to attack Queen Chrysalis, why did you not take action to prevent a confrontation?” Celestia stared blankly, wordlessly prompting more explanation. “I mean,” Florina continued. “You were trapped, sure, but you still had the capacity to interfere with a confrontation before it occurred.” “Alerting Chrysalis to Cadance’s presence would only get my niece killed.” “Are you completely sure of that?” “Yes,” Celestia said firmly. She worried as the word left her lips that the device on her horn would ring out, but then again in her mind it was miles away from a lie. “Well, whatever,” Florina shrugged. “The point is, you saw Cadance was about to engage Queen Chrysalis, and you let the confrontation occur so that you could use the distraction to escape.” “Yes,” Celestia said again. “You knew as you let this happen that your niece was being placed in a position where her likelihood for survival was minimal.” “Yes.” “And you didn’t do anything to interfere.” “What are you accusing me of?” Celestia growled. “Letting my fellow princess defend her country? Trusting another pony to do the right thing? Not ‘saving the day’ when I was physically unable to do so?” “You confessed that your country’s well-being is more important to you than your own sister’s well-being, right?” “At no point did I say that,” Celestia said. “I said my own emotions should not be used as sole justification to allow massive despair to be carried out.” “Tomayto, tomahto.” Florina waved a hoof. “My question is if this same philosophy applies to your niece.” Celestia growled out a guilty “yes” with her head sunk low. “I understand your impatience,” Florina responded to her sharp angry confession with sickening mirth. “But I’m far from done. Let’s move on to a topic that I imagine you were hoping we would guiltily tip-toe around. You, during your imprisonment.” Indeed, Florina was not necessarily wrong. Celestia had been greatly convinced that Flim Flam Industry would not so much as mention her imprisonment unless she mentioned it, but it seemed as though Florina did not care much about dragging her superiors’ names through a bit of mud if it meant an eventual victory. “My unlawful imprisonment.” Celestia clicked her tongue. “Indeed. It was unlawful, and now that you’ve spoken it to the public, I assure you that the ponies responsible will be punished.” Florina grinned. “Don’t worry, princess, we’ll make sure everypony who ever set foot in that facility loses their jobs.” It was a petty attempt to inject a little more guilt into her testimony, and Celestia was well aware. Nonetheless, part of her was already cursing herself for adding that one word for no reason beyond pride. It was an odd sensation, feeling guilt for the mercilessness of a faceless corporation. “How were the average living conditions during your imprisonment?” Florina asked. “Initially? Luxurious,” Celestia said. “Of course, that was only after I’d endured excruciating torture in an attempt to make me surrender my own free will.” “Go ahead.” Florina waved a hoof. “Elaborate. Not my job on the line, after all.” “After my fight with Tirek, I was practically at death’s door. Additionally, involuntary magical discharges from his influence made me a danger to other ponies, so I placed myself in self-imposed isolation. I was lucid enough to write my will and last words to Equestria, but I instead passed into unconsciousness. These were ultimately modified and then read to Equestria following my alleged suicide. Meanwhile, I was taken underground and imprisoned. I awoke with an inhibitor on my horn in a brick room with all manner of devices attached to my skull. They administered electric shocks directly to… um, whichever part of the brain registers pain.” “The thalamus. Also, hold up.” Florina cocked her head. “So you’re saying they tortured you ‘just because?’” “Certainly not.” “Well then what? As far as keeping you imprisoned, yes, your logic makes sense. They took your throne and had to keep you outta the picture. But you’re basically asking us to believe that Flim Flam Industry were carrying out brutal acts of torture against you because they’re ‘really evil.’” “That would be hyperbolic, yes.” “So what is the reason?” Celestia hadn't even considered the possibility of them justifying torture, but here was Florina doing just that. “I refused to raise the sun.” “Ah.” Florina scratched an ear. “A sort of ‘release me or no sun for you’ deal?” “Yes.” “Well, good job using the entirety of planet Equus as your hostage,” Florina said. “Real righteous. Can’t even say I blame them; from what you said it sounds like you were acting like a spoiled child.” A glance in the judge’s direction, and Celestia saw he had no intention of telling Florina to ease back her personal remarks. Celestia was hardly surprised. “Anyways,” Florina said. “In regards to them using such… negotiating techniques; I’ve got tons of confessions concerning the ethics of all of that.” Florina held the heavy envelope of documents up for proof. “Whatever figure the jury decides, Flim Flam Industry are more than happy to pay it as compensation for your trauma.” “That is hardly necessary,” Celestia replied. “And are you honestly telling me that, as long as you give them a nice little sum of bits, it is perfectly acceptable to treat ponies atrociously?” “Unless you have the ability to fiddle with time, there isn’t a whole lot else we can do,” Florina replied. “Can I continue with my questioning, or are you going to keep interrupting me?” “Go ahead,” Celestia growled. “You describe your living conditions as luxurious. Why did you try to escape, if this is so?” “Because my country had been unrighteously stolen from me, I was dying due to being kept away from the sun, and I had done nothing wrong to warrant imprisonment in the first place. Attempting to reason with anypony rewarded me with nothing,” Celestia said. “There is no high road you can take here, Miss Florina.” “Then why don’t you explain to the entire court why, during one of your righteous escape attempts, you nearly took the life of one of our guards?” Silence. “I… was not expecting to be accused of attempted murder tonight,” Celestia breathed. “But I know well the incident you are referring to.” “Tell it to the court.” “Okay,” Celestia said bluntly. She met the jury’s eyes directly, her own expression a calm and collected sadness. “It was during my final escape attempt. I had managed to bypass the horn inhibitor and was freely teleporting through the security checkpoints. I believe I was in the final corridor before the surface when I felt as though I’d been shot from behind. The bullet grazed my neck. “I turned, and I did not think. I was panicked, and I was closer than I’d ever been to freedom. I let loose with my magic in an attempt to subdue my target but I grossly exaggerated both his distance, and my own power.” Her gaze fell. “When the rest of the pursuing guards found me, I was attempting to stop his bleeding with my magic. I suppose I could have continued my escape, but I had no drive to. Some sort of substance was injected into my neck and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I woke to a smaller and more barren room that became my new home for the remainder of my eleven year imprisonment. The guard did not die, but I do not deny the intensity of my violent act of self-defence performed during my escape. I was more violent than I am presently proud to admit.” Celestia squeezed her eyes shut as the court let out another rumbling murmur, as her confession reverberated through every attentive mind. The matriarchal princess of the sun, bluntly admitting to an act of violent self-defence that had nearly resulted in the death of an innocent pony. Once more, an act perfectly justifiable to anypony with a shred of common sense, that shattered her reputation all the same. Still, Florina continued. “For the record, I would like to state that the ‘bullet’ in question was a harmless tranquilizer bolt. Something which had been made clear to Celestia before.” “I was frightened,” Celestia repeated. “Uh huh. So frightened, you used lethal force on an attacker who was simply trying to subdue you.” “He had no right! I’d done nothing to deserve being kept prisoner in the first place! It doesn’t matter whether—!” “You’re shouting,” Florina said passively. “Stop it. Listen to what you’re saying, and ask yourself if it’s a route you really want to take in a national hearing.” Florina’s threat wasn’t one Celestia felt intimidated by. “It is. The fact of the matter is, I was not convicted, I was not tried, I was not ‘imprisoned.’ I was kidnapped. If you didn’t wish to see me defend myself, you should not have placed me in a situation where I saw fit to do so.” “Have you ever experienced hallucinations, Celestia?” It was an abrupt transition, but Celestia saw the purpose quite clearly. What did it matter what she ‘saw fit’ if she were a madmare anyways? “On occasion,” Celestia admitted. “Of my sister, and my niece. Relatively vivid, but never lasting much longer than several minutes.” “You’re insane,” Florina translated. “No, I am not.” Celestia objected softly. “Don't apply your perception of how a proper mind should work to one that has been functioning for more than thirty generations. My visions are driven by a sense of loss you couldn’t possibly understand.” “Got it.” Florina smirked. “You don’t think nearly the same as us ‘puny little mortals.’ With that established, I’m actually done, Your Honour. Nothing else to say; ready to deliver my closing statement.” “That is fine,” he replied. “But Miss Celestia must deliver hers first. And we’ll do so after a short recess of ten minutes.” Ponies shuffled about, some leaving to catch a fleeting breath of fresh air. A glance to the side and Celestia saw Twilight staring wantingly after them—Celestia saw a lighter being waywardly turned over and over in the mare’s magic—but she could not seem to break contact with Celestia as soon as their gaze had met. She rose and trotted in her direction. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Twilight whispered. “I can barely think, my heart’s pounding like crazy!” Celestia chuckled despite herself. “Our situation has certainly taken a confusing development.” “I don’t get it at all! Why would she go on about how selfless of a ruler you are? She seemed to be complimenting you.” “Keyword: seemed,” Celestia replied. “A subtle insult. For an entirely selfless ruler is not an entirely good pony. Sometimes, they may make a decision based on universal benefit but not individual morality.” Twilight tilted her head questioningly. “What? Like a genocide?” “Or a war,” Celestia nodded. “Unjust arrests. Executions without trial. A ruler without personal influence is not always a perfect ruler. A perfect utopia can be a state of complete oppression. What if a ruler or government gets it in their mind a truly terrible thing is for the benefit of all, and morality isn’t around to make them think twice?” Twilight scowled. “But that’s not you!” “Then explain Luna’s death,” Celestia sighed. “Or my… violent response to my niece’s death. Or… or the other incident. It might be a baseless claim against me, but it’s still a convincing one. They've given me two options: admit I am a poor leader to prove I am a good pony, or admit I am a cynical and uncaring pony who is an excellent leader.” Twilight swore bitterly and sunk her head. "The first is an instant death," Celestia said. "I'd have to change my tactic to one of force—something I have neither the desire nor capacity to carry out. The latter, however, will destroy whatever shred of equinity that my ponies still think I possess." Twilight did not reply. In fact, for the rest of the short recess, they did not speak again. It was only after the benches had refilled and the gavel had been slammed and she had been asked to deliver her closing statement that Celestia finally spoke. And it was to the jury, not to Twilight, who had already sat back down a row behind her. Celestia rose as she began. “I will be brief. I, Princess Celestia, am no tyrant. Nor am I some cynical old relic who sees Equestria like a chessboard and you all like pawns. I consider myself a happy mare and it makes me even more happy to see my ponies safe, content, and smiling. That is how I rule. Not with desires for conquest or profit, nor for any malicious intent. I rule because I enjoy ruling, and because I enjoy spreading happiness and friendship. Unlike Flim Flam Industry, my ambitions are not driven by a desire to turn a cynical profit. “I beg you all to keep in mind the speculative nature of what has been presented against me. Nothing factual, merely unfounded assumptions of my personality that I believe anypony who knows me as a friend would agree are incorrect. My rule, autonomous as it was, was a just and fair one. I listened to the problems of any individual and I always did everything in my power to assist them. With my throne back, I would be more than happy to resume my life as a servant to the comfort and happiness of my ponies.” There was no real reason to say much else. She gave the court her thanks for their attention and sat back down, actively averting her eyes from lingering on any one pony, and especially on Twilight Sparkle. Florina rose in a mirrored image, her smug smile an inversion of Celestia’s stoic frown. “Well, for convenience and for the record, I’ll go ahead and reiterate what the entire objective of these proceedings was,” she began. She cracked a document before her, but clearly she did not actually have any use for whatever was written down. “It was the point of this hearing to determine whether or not Miss Celestia’s status as a ruler is acceptable considering her own personal history. And, it is my personal and unbiased opinion that her ability as a ruler has been confirmed to be quite competent.” A surprised murmuring erupted through the courtroom, enough for Celestia to glance behind her. Twilight had cracked a wide smile, but it was quick to shatter as she saw Celestia’s own somber expression. “This all maintained, while Princess Celestia’s rulership abilities have been confirmed, her own personal mentality has been called into serious question. I ask the public to examine her controversial actions carefully, and I believe they would find that, while they have been carried out in the best interest of Equestria, they represent the mindset of a mare who has little to no regard for the well-being of any individual pony. They are borderline sociopathic tendencies, likely harboured by centuries of seeing ponies as…” Florina broke off momentarily. She glanced at her document again and smiled.   “I’ll use the term mayflies to describe Celestia’s projected viewpoint of them. Perhaps the most glaring example can be observed during the events of the Second Longest Night, where Princess Celestia carried out a violent act of fratricide against her own sister to protect the well-being of her nation. She acts out of interest to the population but without any perceived sense of moral direction. “Likewise, Princess Celestia has admitted to experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations, as well as being skillfully manipulative and at extreme moments considerably violent. “Therefore, I’m forced to recommend that her eligibility for candidacy be approved, but I don’t believe I need to point out for the court her own sociopathic flaws that would make such a candidate a poor one. Had it not been for the previously established conditions of this hearing and with the intent behind and outcomes of her actions considered, I would advise immediate commitment of this mare. I’m no doctor, but it seems pretty clear to me that she’s suffering from some manner of severe mental illness. She is a morally and emotionally empty pony, who views her populace in one shade, without deviance, and without specific tolerance given, even to her own blood. Such a pony is dangerous to our state of peace, and it is my belief that we were all much safer when she was beneath a thousand feet of rock.” Florina leaned back into her chair with a satisfied smirk. “That is all, no further statements.” The entire room was silent. Florina rose, stuffed her paperwork into her nearby briefcase, and smiled first at the jury and then at Celestia. “So… you are forfeiting your own legal assault against her?” Even the judge looked confused. “I believe I’ve proven what I was sent here to prove,” Florina replied. “What about Twilight?” Celestia whispered. “I beg your pardon, Princess?” Florina cocked her head innocently. “Twilight. I was told her eligibility for Crown Minister would be likewise approved, if my own was.” Regardless, it hardly mattered to a single sane pony in the room, and Celestia knew it. She had waltzed right into a trap—Flim Flam Industry had dangled her rulership worth as a taunt when they knew themselves they would never be able to disprove it. They lured her into a hearing they never suspected they’d win, only to spread out her own justifications and testimony as an assault against her. The jury hardly mattered now, but even so Celestia knew what their determination would be. She had just been legally proven as a completely contemptible mare with no regard for equine life. That made Twilight a supporter of an officially classified mad-mare. Her throne would only be provided to her through the decision of her ponies, and any chance of such was a laughable notion, now. Florina let out a rude chuckle. “Yeah, why the hell not? I say she’s got it. Nice image: Celestia and her Crown Minister with the criminal record. Congratulations, Princess. You’ve won.” vii In grim silence, they returned home. Celestia excused herself to the study with a murmur. Twilight did not dare follow her. The sun had been set hours earlier and Twilight could only assume Celestia was attempting to give her broken mind a break in the recluse of sleep. Twilight's own head was still a flurry of confused thoughts. She hadn't expected Flim Flam Industry to take such a gamble, but they had. Challenging Celestia to prove her leadership worth, only to throw the challenge entirely. Instead of taking assault on one element of her rule, they’d carried out another devastating assault of a battle they’d been fighting for a decade. Without a word against her rule or politics, they’d managed to sink her character a little further. And it had already sunk so low. The morning would bring conversation between them—Twilight had no idea how she was ever going to comfort Celestia or think of some lie that proved that they were alright. The ice below them had only gotten thinner, and there was no safe shore in sight. By her bed in the sorting room was a jar of sleeping pills. Twilight swallowed a few and lazily slumped against her bed. There were a few drops of red wine in a discarded bottle underneath, and she swallowed some of that, too. In mere minutes, the shamanistic combination of substances had taken its numbing effect and Twilight felt her senses blurring with incoming unconsciousness. On the other side, Nightmare Moon was waiting. “Should’ve taken a few more of those pills,” she said cheerily. “Then maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about Equestria burning you and my sister at the stake tomorrow morning.” Nightmare Moon was watching with a playful smirk as Twilight groggily took in her surroundings—the dusty room in the Catacombs where they had first found the Sunstone. “It was certainly satisfying hearing Celly finally admit how little she cared about me.” “What do you want?” Twilight growled. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Nightmare Moon replied. “And don’t blame me for that, either. If you wouldn’t have merged magic streams with Celestia; I’d have had no way of tormenting you.” Straightening herself up and feeding light magic into her horn, Twilight gave the alicorn a small sneer. Nightmare Moon had already confessed her lack of desire to hurt her, and this time Twilight knew damn well she was dreaming anyways. “As long as you’re leaving her alone, then whatever,” Twilight said. “You don’t scare me.” “I would hope not!” Nightmare Moon looked offended. “I’m not trying to! My goodness, you attempt to have a civil conversation with somepony and they call you a murderous, fearsome beast! How rude!” Twilight stared. Nightmare Moon gave an echoing cackle. “You know Twilight… I’ve been thinking. About you. Specifically, about you raising my moon.” “I already promised I wouldn’t touch it again,” Twilight growled. “Heavens forbid I try to help Celestia not go through excruciating pain just to respect your memory.” “And I love her ever so deeply for it.” Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean: go ahead. Raise my moon. I apologize for my outburst last week.” Twilight blinked. To her dumbfounded amazement, Nightmare Moon… seemed to be speaking in earnest. “But I will teach you,” Nightmare Moon added. “Not Celestia.” Suddenly, the landscape shifted. No longer the Sunstone room, Twilight instantly recognized the sprawl of Equestria from the roof of the library where she’d tried raising the moon a week earlier. The sky looked fake, like cardboard, but the moon shone clear, if only as a rippling and unsure projection behind paper clouds. It was as though the great celestial body was cooing insults in the same smug tone as Nightmare Moon, but with wavering moonbeams instead of a cold and taunting voice. “Why?” Twilight whispered. “What changed?” “Nothing changed,” Nightmare Moon replied. “I guess I just always wanted a student of my own. I’m not ready to kill you and Celestia is too stubborn to just die, so… I might as well occupy myself somehow. Plus, I guess Celestia’s contingency plans aren’t as foolish as I’d like to admit. When she croaks—which will be soon, for us immortals at least—I would like to have confirmation that my moon has been passed on to a darling little unicorn like you.” Twilight continued to stare. Every word that came to her mind was merely a stunned expression of confusion. Nightmare Moon, offering to help her… and, to help Celestia… merely because she was bored… A life of logic and of making truth from lies had shaped a mind that was now screaming insult at Twilight for even hesitating. She should be fleeing, she should be spitting in the black alicorn's face—to even contemplate trusting her was simply madness. Wasn’t it? What was it that Celestia had said to her? Treating ponies with compassion and respect makes them act more compassionate and respectable. Despite all of Twilight’s calculated instincts telling her such a thing was foolish, Twilight felt a tinge of compassion that bled into a pinprick of trust towards Nightmare Moon’s words. She had always wanted a student? Hadn’t this same mare gone mad with jealousy and feelings of isolation? Would it truly be so odd to see her attempting to make a connection with another pony close enough to her sister to relate but not oblivious to her flaws? As much as Twilight did not like to admit so, she did carry similarities to Nightmare Moon, or at least this recurring hallucination of her. She knew what it felt to be isolated, to be lonely, to feel so much self-hatred she dared not show… Celestia excepted, Twilight did not have a single pony in her life who she could admit to having any measurable level of friendship with. And while Nightmare Moon’s remarks towards the concept were surely some sarcastic jibe, Twilight couldn’t chase away Celestia’s description of Princess Luna; a sad, lonely mare trying desperately to claw her way to some heightened level of respect in the eyes of at least one of her subjects. To be anything beyond a lonely little freak, or in Twilight’s case a lonely and pudgy freak. Nightmare Moon was dead but not gone. Perhaps Luna was, too. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay a bitter pessimist. Perhaps that was Celestia’s fault. And what was there to lose, truly? Nightmare Moon was a danger, certainly, but she had shirked away from the Sunstone the last time Twilight had threatened her with it. There was no reason such an encounter would go any differently thanks to a change of scenery. “Fine,” Twilight said eventually, rushing over the words before her mind changed. “But just the moon.” "Of course," she cooed. "Just the moon. See you tomorrow morning, my dear little student."