//------------------------------//
// Razlagayushchiysya (Pt. III) [X] 
// Story: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight 
// by NorrisThePony 
//------------------------------//


viii


It was the last evening before the first day of spring, and it was pouring rain. 

Celestia, however, paid no attention to the rain streaking down her snout nor the distant rumbling of thunder, and she instead frowned at the blurry lines before her. 

Even with her glasses perched on her snout, the typewritten words on the crumbled up take-out menu were illegible. 

...Even more so than they’d been in the recent weeks. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Celestia knew that her ancient, lone-surviving retina had been doing the involuntary work of two for far too long, and with far too little medical attention. 

It was a terrible truth, but Celestia knew that total blindness was a daunting truth on her horizon. The last thing she needed was to have to inform Equestria that they were now following a blind mare. 

Even telling Twilight was a daunting prospect. She’d already described her current physical state to the young mare as one of decay back in Dusk Falls, and flooding Twilight with even more dread seemed like it would be counter-productive to the infinite optimism she’d been attempting to radiate. 

Shaking her head clear, Celestia let her mind wander to the blur of blended city lights below her. She was sitting on an eighteenth floor hotel room balcony, relishing in the cool wind blowing through her braided mane. Compared to the rest of the metropolises Celestia had seen since her return, the northern-eastern city of Neighaghra Falls had a comforting scent of pine, and calm starry nights.

Not that she’d had a chance to see the stars through the stormclouds overhead. 

Before her lay a city that was both old and new, with tall skyscrapers rising alongside ancient gothic buildings. While it was true that she was only there because she and Twilight had run into the last of their bits trying to return to Old Canterlot, it was not a place Celestia necessarily minded being stranded in. 

Now that Old Canterlot had been reduced to a near-bankrupt slum, Celestia had begun to consider places to make her new home. Someplace she could rule out of in relative peace. Neighaghra Falls hadn’t been on her list, but passing through the town on their pilgrimage back to Old Canterlot had brought it to her attention. It would be a good place to make Equestria’s capital once she retook her throne, she figured. Old architecture and plenty of parks and trees made it a welcome place for an archaic old harpy such as herself. 

Regardless, she was damn certain it wouldn’t be New Canterlot. 

Shaking her head, Celestia outstretched her magic to the sun and sent it on its way towards the horizon, before reaching for the Moon to raise it in turn. 

For a moment, her near-sightless eye grew wide with shock as she found her magic unable to establish a connection with the Moon. It was as though the great body were in a different place from where she had left it. 

Then, she found it again, and sent it into the sky. Any of her concerned thoughts were driven away by the sudden stabbing pain in her chest as Luna’s magic tore into her once more. For several minutes, she simply slumped against the balcony railing, breathing heavily, feeling as though her heart were ready to stop beating in her chest. 

By the time her chest resumed any semblance of tranquility, the pouring rain above had turned to a steady and soothing drizzle. 

Folding the rain-soaked takeout menu, Celestia began to stuff it back into Twilight’s saddlebag, which the unicorn had left on the balcony. As she opened the clasp, a glint of gold from within caught her weary eye, and she levitated the bag closer to investigate. 

The object which had caught the glint of the moon was a familiar one, and one that Celestia removed with great caution, taking care not to let her magic touch the gem encased in the center of the golden crown of the faux-Element of Harmony. 

Examining the Sunstone carefully, Celestia could see strands of purple hair clinging to the decorative golden swirls of the crown. The saddlebag itself had a distant odor of cigarette smoke, but Celestia thought it to be particularly poignant around the Sunstone’s crown. 

Twilight had been wearing the Sunstone quite frequently as of late, it seemed.

And yet Celestia couldn’t recall having seen the unicorn with the golden crown above her head at any point during their rocky pilgrimage back to the heart of Equestria. 

Overhead, the clouds parted and the Moon once more cast its silvery light onto the gold hovering in Celestia’s aura. She winced as her insides once again churned with abrupt pain, and she dropped the Sunstone onto the balcony floor with a clatter as the gem began glowing with warmth and the familiar aura of Luna’s late magic. 

For one painful moment, Celestia felt a stabbing tinge of excitement at the sight—she had not seen Luna’s light blue aura for a thousand years, but she recognized it without her mind having to contemplate for more than a moment. 

Then, as quickly as her illogical excitement had sprung to life, it vanished into smoky disappointment as she remembered the very explanation she’d given to Twilight in the catacombs; Luna’s soul, wedged into the Sunstone, infusing the ancient gemstone with her now-corrupted magic.

An echo of her sister. A ghost.

Despite the disappointment that had settled into Celestia’s heart following her illogical moment of wayward relief, Luna’s glowing magic refused to fade. The Sunstone kept glowing as though her younger sister were carrying it in her telekinesis. 

A ghost, perhaps. Still, Celestia reasoned, it was her sister all the same. 

And so, Celestia cradled the golden crown closer to her heart, ignoring the feeling of burning pain growing in her chest, and ignoring the distinctly sharp scent of her own smoldering fur. 

A loud thumping was resonating in Celestia’s ears—her body instinctively panicking as foreign and certainly hostile magic flooded through her mana stream—yet Celestia drove it back and soon relished in the ensuing silence her trained and meditated brain provided her. 

Still, something was wrong. The silence was not one of soundlessness, and Celestia’s meditated state was not one of calmness. Rather, it felt more akin to being kept in a trance. 

From Celestia’s experience, trances weren’t normally safe states of mind to be under. 

“You look terrible, Auntie.” 

With surprise akin to receiving an electrostatic shock, Celestia jerked around to see her niece settling down onto the balcony beside her, giving her wings a small shake as if to stretch them after a long flight. 

Cadance was still covered in every scratch and open wound Chrysalis had inflicted upon her. Sharp indentations lined Cadance’s neck—ghostly reminders of Chrysalis’s sharp teeth tearing out her beloved niece’s throat. What was left of her straggly mane hung as grey, discoloured strands.

“I mean, damn,” Cadance said, in a voice that sounded as though she had swallowed a glass of nails. Still, even through the fog of distant injury, Cadance’s joking tone was clear as day. “Can you even see out of that eye?! It looks like a freaking blizzard in there.” 

Celestia blinked, but nonetheless answered. “It’s… ah, been doing the work of the other for too long, I suspect.” 

“Yeah, so it seems. Although, I guess the same could be said about me, of course,” Cadance chuckled. 

Silence, for several eternal seconds.

Then, without further hesitation, and without a moment’s communication, the two alicorns abruptly embraced. They both wrapped their skeletal and decomposing wings around each other. Celestia leaned into Cadance’s warmth, but there was no warmth to be found in the lich-like shadow of her niece. Cadance was as cold as death, the scent of perfume fruitlessly trying to overpower the more prominent scent of decay looming over her. 

Cadance detached when it became clear that Celestia would not. 

“You’re not here,” Celestia whispered, her gaze falling as her mind finally caught up with her. “I am sorry, Cadance, but you are dead. You have been dead for a long time.” 

“Yes to both,” Cadance nodded. “But since when is that a reason for us not to talk?” 

“I’m so sorr—” 

Cadance rose a decaying hoof. “I know, Auntie. You should know that you don’t have to say that to me.” Turning her head, Cadance focused her iris-less eyes on the city before her. “Hey! Neighaghra Falls, right?” 

Celestia nodded. 

“Wow. I remember Shining taking me here once, when he went on vacation with his parents.” 

“That’s when he introduced you to his little sister.” Celestia nodded again. “You met Shining and his family at the Neighaghra Falls Museum of Art. You were worried they’d try to adopt you—thus throwing a wrench in your ‘dating their son’ plans.” 

Cadance giggled. Celestia laughed too—Cadance’s laughter was indeed a comforting sound. Even as a living corpse, Cadance had a voice like a song. 

“I guess I did tell you that story,” Cadance said. 

“You did.” Celestia smiled. “For such an old mare, I have a dreadfully acute memory.” 

“So, why are you here now?” 

“I am here with Twilight Sparkle, coincidentally,” Celestia said, motioning towards the hotel room. “We’re trying to make our way back to Old Canterlot.” 

Cadance cocked her head. “... Old Canterlot?” 

For a moment, Celestia, too, cocked her head in curiosity. Surely Cadance should—

The confusion passed. The realization set in. 

In one wayward slip of words, Celestia had let Death creep back into their previously innocent conversation. 

For Celestia, the world around her was becoming a familiar one, but to Cadance it was an empty void she had no knowledge of. 

Instead, the unexplored and unknowable plains of death had become Cadance’s to waywardly trod through. 

“I guess I’m… uh, behind on things,” Cadance sighed. She looked to her hooves. As her neck lowered, Celestia caught a glimpse of city-lights shining through the starry sky of tiny holes dotting Cadance’s neck. 

Even with her eyes trained on her hooves, Cadance seemed to catch Celestia’s eye scanning the evidence of death hanging over her. 

“I don’t want to go back alone,” Cadance whispered. 

Celestia’s answer was instantaneous. “Then stay.”

“You know I can’t, Aunt Celestia. I have to go back.” 

Celestia took a step closer. “What was it like, Cadance? Did… did it hurt? Were you scared?” 

Finally, Cadance brought her sightless eyes back up to sweep over Celestia. She analyzed the taller alicorn carefully—taking in the mismatched patch of perpetually injured flesh on Celestia’s thigh courtesy of Discord, her gnarled left wing from Chrysalis, her jagged horn from Tirek. Finally, she settled on Celestia’s good eye—tired and afraid. 

“Auntie…” Cadance spoke cautiously—a strange sounding affair, with her pained and deceased-sounding voice. “Do… do you want me to say something to numb your own fear?” 

“I want you to tell me what you wish to tell me.” 

“Then I’ll tell you the truth,” Cadance said. “It’s cold, Auntie. It’s like… like you’re freezing, but it’s not an actual cold so much as it’s emptiness. And it just keeps getting colder and colder and colder…”

Cadance stopped as her empty eyes began to water, her tears a thick and flesh-like slurry. 

“And then?” Celestia pressed. She hated pushing her niece—or whatever hallucination was before her—through so much sorrow, but some primal fear seemed to be driving her own selflessness down. “Is there anything beyond? All of those stories about paradise…”

Cadance laughed despite her watering eyes. “Auntie… do I look like I’m running amok out of paradise?”

“No,” Celestia said, her gaze falling. “But death is my one final chance to see you again.” 

“Then come with me. Trust me when I say I don’t want to go back to the cold all by myself. I know, I know… I sound incredibly selfish, but maybe if we both look, we can find some warm place instead.” 

Against every conscious and selfless thought, Celestia found herself being swayed by Cadance’s words. Hadn’t Twilight already explained it to her? She had every right to leave Equestria in hooves other than her own—she’d done her fair share helping her ponies, she’d killed herself too many times for their benefit to ever be asked to do so again. 

Would Equestria be so doomed, if Celestia left her trust in her ponies to fix it? Did she truly have so little faith in those she loved? 

If ponies like Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, or Raven existed, how doomed could Equestria possibly be? 

“I know it’s hard, after all you’ve done,” Cadance said. “But just for once, Auntie… do something for yourself. There isn’t shame in every defeat. Trust me, I know—I already died.” 

Outstretching a skeletal hoof, Cadance smiled at Celestia—a smile so familiar it could have been plucked right from a pleasant summer memory. Her niece’s hoof was as cold as death, but even the iciness of the touch had a distant, melancholic comfort. 

Celestia’s time in Equestria was limited. At the touch of her deceased niece’s hoof, and at the gaze of her empty but emotional eyes, Celestia was beginning to lose sight of whatever reason she had to continue delaying what would eventually happen no matter what she did in between. 

Still, some desperate fragment of sensibility was clinging to Celestia’s consciousness, and it bade her turn her head one final time, back in the direction of the hotel room. 

Twilight was laying on her back on one of the two beds, frowning at a notebook with a pen twirling in her magic. 

A lump caught in Celestia’s throat, and when she made to address Cadance again, she found she was incapable of much more than a sobbing gurgle. Cadance smiled patiently and remained silent. With a nod, she wordlessly prompted Celestia to try again.

“I’m s-sorry, Cadance” Celestia whispered, once more staring at her hooves. “But I know you aren’t real. I do not know if you are my own insanity or a vision brought about by touching the Sunstone. Either way, you are no more than a siren in my mind, and I can’t leave Equestria behind to follow you.”

“Hey, no problem. Can’t blame a mare for trying.” Cadance shrugged and grinned—a mischievous yet innocent grin that showcased a maw of jagged and decayed teeth. “I hope you find peace, Auntie.” 

Celestia nodded and said nothing, her gaze falling again.

In the silence, Celestia supposed, the trance ended and her delusions of Cadance followed. Once more, the logical and calculated part of Celestia’s mind ended Cadance’s life, for when she looked up, she saw no more than the night sky over Neighaghra Falls, and the Sunstone glowing slightly on the ground before her.

Shivering a little, Celestia turned back and headed towards the hotel room, as though fleeing from the balcony would allow her to flee from the troubling truth that she had exposed to herself with vivid clarity that she was a madmare.  

Even her mind was betraying her, now. Just when she’d assumed it was the only immovable thing on her side. 

Still… some lonely part of Celestia’s soul didn’t quite seem to care. Was it truly such a harm to her ponies that her mind decided to give her a few fleeting moments from the endless solitude fate had dictated for her? 

Twilight Sparkle was still laying on her bed and scratching away at her notebook, but she perked up as Celestia slid the door open and entered. 

“Hey, Celestia. I grabbed your mail from the post office while I was out,” Twilight said. Celestia heard a flutter of pages and dull thump as Twilight set down her book, before shaking a bundle of paper as if to prove something Celestia had not denied. 

“Thank you, Twilight.” Celestia smiled without opening her eye. “Did you enjoy the museums?” 

“I did,” Twilight confirmed. “You should’ve come.” 

“I should’ve,” Celestia agreed. “To a pony like me, museums are kind of the same as Lost and Found boxes.” 

Twilight laughed, and Celestia heard the cacophony of springs as she leaned back herself on her bed. “What about your mail though? You’re not going to read over it?” 

“I seem to have misplaced my glasses,” Celestia lied. 

“Uh. Okay. Just, there’s one from your nephew, so I figured…” 

“From Blueblood?!” Celestia opened her eye—not that it changed her surroundings much—and darted up in her bed. 

“Yeah. And two from Flim Flam Industry,” Twilight said. There was another rustle of pages. “Also, hey, a letter for me! That’s surprising, I never get mail!” 

Celestia smiled, the subtle shift of her lips causing her to break out in a mighty yawn. There was the loud sound of a tearing envelope as Twilight opened her letter with fervour. 

Then, after a brief rustling of paper, the unicorn let out a long sigh of disappointment and fury.

“It’s a court summons,” Twilight grumbled. “I’m being accused of felony tax avoidance. Marvelous.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia sighed. What taxes were required of a unicorn who was for all intents and purposes a homeless vagabond was beyond her. “I don’t imagine their letters to me bear much better news.” 

“Probably not,” Twilight said dejectedly. “Want them anyways?” 

“I do,” Celestia nodded. “But I cannot read them without my glasses, remember?” 

“No problem,” Twilight said. “I can read them aloud for you, if you’d like.” 

Celestia smiled warmly, although the nature of her lie had begun to cast her thoughts in a dark light. The thought of losing her sense of sight was a daunting one, and her continuous denial offered no solace. 

“I would very much appreciate that, Twilight.” 

Nodding, Twilight cleared her throat, unfurled the letter, and began.

“To the desk of Miss Celestia,

Your presence is cordially requested with a representative from Flim Flam Industry’s board of directors, in a private location and setting of your choosing. 

We wish to discuss plans to move forwards in harmony and cooperation, with the hopes of seeking a solution that benefits both of us. We wish to discuss plans of ascending you to an advisory position in the Equestrian Government, as well as providing appropriate compensation treatment for emotional trauma caused by your imprisonment. 

Please respond with haste, by return address.”  

Twilight breathed deeply after she finished, setting the letter down. “This bullshit again. Absolutely unbelievable.” 

Celestia was silent. 

“‘Advisory position,’” Twilight repeated. “What a worthless thing to dangle in front of you. ‘Hey, we know we tortured you and stole your throne and have been called out for lying to the public about you, but maybe if you’re allowed exclusive access to our government’s freaking suggestion box, you’ll—!’” 

“Twilight,” Celestia cut in. “There is no reason to grow upset at this.” 

“You’re not impatient with them?!” 

“They seem to realize now that they cannot simply… ah, ‘snuff me out.’ Their request for a ‘private’ location, for example, is particularly intriguing. They don’t hope to win by publicly humiliating me anymore. They know that they cannot win without first bargaining with me. Do you know what this letter tells me?”

Twilight turned, facing the wall before her instead of Celestia or the lights of Neighaghra Falls beyond. “What?” 

“It tells me that they are becoming afraid of me,” Celestia said. She let out a long breath from her nose. “I just wish they’d stop giving me reasons to be frightening. It is beginning to wear me out.”  

Twilight mumbled some indignant insult towards Flim Flam Industry that Celestia only partially heard. Celestia rolled over, her weak eye closed to the dimly lit hotel room. She listened to Twilight shuffle about with her notebook for several more minutes, before eventually shutting it and violently striking her pillow a few times as she prepared for sleep. 

They laid in silence in the dark hotel room, both mares listening to each other’s breathing—Celestia’s peaceful but wary, and Twilight’s shaky and nervous. Somewhere outside, far beyond the lights of Neighaghra Falls, a faint-yet-long roll of thunder echoed across the north-eastern sky. 

By the time the thunder finished its harsh song, Celestia had worked up the courage to pose one final question, before sleep tore it from her. 

“Twilight… recently, I’ve been thinking—have you ever seen Flim or Flam?” 

“Mmm. Whaddayamean?” Twilight said, exhaustion slurring her words into one. 

“I mean… in the flesh, have you ever seen them?” 

“No, I guess I haven’t.”

“Have you ever met anypony who has?”

“Uh… I imagine I probably did,” Twilight said, sounding quite unsure and quite eager to return to trying to sleep. “I think. Why?” 

“I… don’t know,” Celestia said, and let out a long breath from her snout. “It seems strange, that’s all… that they haven’t confronted me yet. That… that trial with Florina… they must have been afraid that they’d project a horrible image of themselves by not showing up—if even just to watch. Yet they did not show up, anyways.” 

“I doubt they actually do much for the actual industry anymore. I think they’re more of an image than anything.” 

“Mm.” Celestia rolled over again, straightening her pillow with a flare of magic. She did not reply further, and soon Twilight’s breathing had lapsed into obvious unconsciousness.

It was a rather unsettling thought—if Twilight was correct, then her opposition truly had no face to reason with—but it was a thought that seemed to explain just why her return to Equestria had been met by representatives of something larger, instead of the large thing itself. 

She doubted she’d be given the truth forthright the next day nor any day beyond, and some part of her was hoping for more lies. If Blueblood’s claims held any water, it seemed she was no longer the only mare who saw them as such. 


ix


When Sombra’s army had fallen, Celestia’s troubles with the Crystal Empire had hardly vanished. Instead, they bared their teeth once more, not as a violent problem but as a sociological one. 

When Celestia had pardoned Sombra’s brainwashed populace and invited them into Equestrian soil, her problems once more resurfaced as she was criticized by the tongues of her own ponies. 

She could hardly blame them. In less than a year she was giving Crystal Pony refugees homes and jobs in Equestrian soil. The same ponies who had killed her own were now being welcomed into her very country. They were being given jobs alongside members of an army that, twelve months prior, had been at the height of war with them.

It was a time Celestia had dubbed the Bloody Peace. 

Racism was rampant in her country—a thing Celestia would never hope to see in her ponies was violence towards each other, but when the Equestrians refused to see the Crystal Ponies as a component of each other, such hopes became obsolete. Still, Celestia had remained firm. The Crystal Ponies were seeking reconciliation and safety. They’d lived in fear even long before the war, and Celestia wasn’t about to let a few insults launched at her overly-soft rule dilute her desires to help. 

Now, walking through the Crystal District of Neighaghra Falls, Celestia saw that the division between her ponies was still present—albeit not nearly as violent as it had been in times past. Nonetheless, the Crystal Ponies had been shoved into one neighborhood of the city, one with bright and shining buildings that contrasted against the archaic gothic architecture of the rest of Neighaghra Falls. 

Of course, Celestia was more surprised by just how many of the Crystal Ponies seemed to be bowing as she passed—as though she were some great hero to them. As though she were anything but the general to an army that had defeated them in the past. 

A little voice in her mind reminded her that she had defeated Sombra and had liberated the Crystal Ponies, but her own pride towards war and victory was no more than a feeble little whisper. She ignored it with ease. 

Still, the blurry forms of ponies in her peripheral bowing in her presence was something that, in ten years, she had forgotten how much she had despised. 

The experience was made all the more unpleasant by Celestia’s relatively brisk pace—she had no desire to keep a representative of Flim Flam Industry waiting for her in a Neighaghra Falls park. Not when she herself held such a high regard for basic manners and professionalism.

As she approached the park, Celestia flared her magic around a paper bag she had tucked under her wing. She withdrew the small plastic device within, examining the large rings of thick black tape encased within the plexiglass. The shopkeeper she had purchased it from had shown her how it had worked, and she obeyed his teachings by pressing a button with a circle upon it. The reels began to turn, and she concealed the device in the feathers of her wing as she approached the park. 

If Flim Flam Industry were allowed to weaken her using underhanded techniques, she hardly had any moral objections to recording whatever conversations they deemed so private that her ponies couldn’t hear them, too. 

She met her pony in a park located on the outskirts of the Crystal Pony district. It was built across from the great Neighaghra Falls, and offered a clear view to the large shipping freighters below, and one great lumbering airship above. Across the wide river, Celestia could faintly see the cheap but tall hotel that she and Twilight had made their temporary home for the week.

“Good morning,” Celestia offered a hoof to the pony sitting at a bench and facing the falls. To her surprise, the mare was many years younger than even Twilight; she seemed to be in her early-twenties, and such was being generous. Nonetheless, she wore a rather earnest smile and shook Celestia’s hoof with grace and professionalism. 

“Same to yourself, Miss Celestia. My name is Silver Spoon, and I’m here...” 

“On behalf of Flim Flam Industry,” Celestia interrupted with a polite nod, smiling widely and withdrew her hoof. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Silver Spoon.”

“Likewise. What brings you to Neighaghra Falls, Miss Celestia?” 

“Travelling,” Celestia replied. “Back to Canterlot, actually. I… ah, admittedly wanted to have some time to myself following…” Celestia broke off. She shook her head with a sheepish smile. “Uh… nevermind. I don’t wish to waste your time with pleasantries, since I presume you’re a busy mare.”

“Thanks, but I’m really just an intern, actually,” Silver laughed. “That’s flattering of you, but I’m only here because my supervisor didn’t wanna come himself—” 

Silver stopped abruptly, much like how Celestia had moments before. 

Celestia did her best not to become indignant that Flim Flam Industry had saw fit to send what was in essence a child to deal with her affairs. It was as though they saw her as no more than a pestersome old mare with petty gripes. 

Of course, the other obvious option was that whoever Silver Spoon’s superiors were had been too afraid to come. It was a somewhat more welcoming option, although only slightly so. 

Whatever they were playing at, Celestia had no doubt it was intentional, and she had no desire to reward them with any expression of annoyance or indignation at their treatment of her. The last thing she needed was some journalist watching her bark orders at a cowering young mare in a public park. 

“Uh, anyways…” Silver Spoon scratched her ear. “You probably got the letter, right?”

“About my ‘advisory position.’” Celestia nodded. “I did. I wish for you to elaborate upon that, if you do not mind?” 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Silver Spoon said. She reached into a cluttered looking briefcase that looked too large for her, and withdrew a few pieces of paper. “Here, I even printed an extra copy of the Employment Legislation Report for you!” 

“Employment Legislation Report?” Celestia cocked her head. 

“Yeah. Highlights what’s expected of you.” 

Celestia frowned as she examined the document further, only to realize it was completely illegible, even with her eyeglasses on her snout. 

“I apologize, Miss Silver Spoon, but I cannot for the life of me make any of these words out. Please forgive my age.” 

“Oh! I’m really sorry! Darn it, I should’ve thought to give you a large print version!” 

“My dear, please don’t apologize for that. Now… please share with me what my position as an Advisor to the State entails.” 

“W-well…” Silver Spoon scratched her ear again. Celestia figured the poor young mare had not been expecting to have to explain in detail what was expected of the very Princess of the Sun. Silver Spoon must have spent enough time obeying memos from ‘higher-ups’ to come to expect non-verbal communication as the norm. She surely would have been expecting some representative working for Celestia, instead of the princess herself. 

Even during her rule, Celestia had hated communicating important events through other ponies. She liked to believe her ponies had the right to hear things directly from her. Even reading her subject’s letters to her had become an almost hobby-like fascination to her between court sessions, and certainly worth her own time. 

“B-basically...” Silver Spoon began nervously. “You’re going to be given the right to voice your complaints directly to the heads of state. They will also request your opinions on complex situations, and listen to your suggestions for solving them or for benefitting Equestria. Your wage situation is to be calculated depending on your—”

“Wait a moment, please,” Celestia interrupted. “What power would this position grant me?” 

“Well… a very vocal voice in the direction of leadership of the very country, and the economical…” Silver Spoon broke off, glanced at her document, and continued. “The economical situations of the country.” 

“Mm. But no power to actually affect them myself?” 

“Uh… again, communication is the power that this ‘advisory position’ presents you with.”

“I…” Celestia began, but sighed, bringing a hoof to the bridge of her snout. “Look, Miss Silver Spoon. I appreciate this offer and I appreciate you coming all the way here to tell me of it, but this is considerably insulting to me. What you are ‘granting’ me is the same right that your government flaunts in order to assert themselves ‘superior’ to mine. You’re treating the opportunity of public criticism and expression as though it is a gift to ponies. That isn’t a position of power in the slightest. It is a basic, fundamental right. The fact that Flim Flam Industry sees it as otherwise is rather frightening.” 

“I’m… I’m only relaying what I was told...”

“I know you are, my dear,” Celestia cooed soothingly, already beginning to regret taking on such a sharp tone with the young mare. “I am not angry with you. I am not angry with Flim Flam Industry either, truly. I am merely disappointed that they refuse to treat me like anything more than a petulant child.” 

Silver Spoon nodded, seemingly reduced to shell-shocked silence. 

“Please, look at things from my perspective for a moment,” Celestia said. “I was unjustly robbed of my title, imprisoned, tortured, and condemned to death. I escape, seeking not revenge but instead a peaceful reconciliation, showing utmost transparency concerning my own actions and making no moves to blame Flim Flam Industry for their crimes. I have made it considerably clear that I wish to peacefully retake a country that was unrighteously taken from me. Now tell me, does this ‘advisory position’ truly make sense in that context?” 

“N… no.” 

“No, it does not,” Celestia agreed. “Actually, how may I go about speaking to your superiors? I have a great number of things I wish to tell them.” 

“I can… I can deliver a letter to them.” 

“Good. Then do so,” Celestia said. She stared expectantly, until Silver caught her cue and dug out a notepad from her notebook. “I want you to tell them that they’d better start treating me seriously and maturely. They’re forcing my hoof into action with their refusal to co-operate, but frankly I’m reluctant to do so. Nonetheless, I’m going to send you back to your superiors with a little synopsis of what I project is going to take place. 

“Firstly, they are to publicly apologize for their crimes against me. I’ve proven that I am willing to confess to my past deeds and be completely open about them, but Flim Flam Industry have not given me nor Equestria such luxury. This needs to change, and I know that Equestria is beginning to see so, too. So, with this said, I wish to speak with Flim and Flam in person, and publically as before. I have a number of concerns, one of such is their refusal to confront me, and I want to address the ponies directly responsible. I believe they would agree that an affair such as that sham of a trial should never take place again, for the benefit of us both.” 

Silver Spoon had developed a look of sheer and unadulterated terror, one that the mention of Flim and Flam in person did little to ease. 

“Is there a problem with my requests?” Celestia asked, cocking her head. 

“N… w-well… I don’t exactly think Flim and Flam are… uh… available. I don’t know of anypony who has spoken with them.”

“Wait a moment,” Celestia said, struggling to fight her indignation down. “Not available?! They are the heads of their government!” 

“I… uh, think you… misunderstand. Flim Flam Industry are the head of the government, but Flim and Flam haven’t been affiliated with the company itself for some time.” 

“Some time?” Celestia repeated. “Elaborate, please.” 

“I... can’t. I don’t actually know with certainty.” 

“Unbelievable,” Celestia said. “How out-of-the-loop is Equestria being kept?! Who the blazes is the head of power then?”

“I… I think it’s a… a sort of group committee. B-board of directors, I think.” 

“This is… terrifying,” Celestia said bluntly. “You don’t even know, do you? You work for the bloody corporation, but you don’t even know who runs your own country. You just know the faces of the figureheads for a corporation.” 

Silver Spoon sunk her head and mumbled something incoherent. Celestia truly did not care what she had said, anyways. 

“Tell me, Miss Silver Spoon. When was the last time you have heard or seen Flim or Flam in the flesh?” 

“I d-don’t know.” 

“Are they even still alive?” 

Even with her head sunk, Silver Spoon looked as though she was about to break down in tears. “I don’t know.” 

“Unbelievable,” Celestia said again. “Twelve years. Twelve years, a few useless trinkets and promises, and one measly scapegoat named Princess Celestia is all it took to turn my beloved ponies into a bunch of blind sheep. Tell this… this ‘board of directors’, then, that I wish to speak with them. In person. And if they refuse again, if they send another child to collect me, I will march to New Canterlot and I will force them out of my throne with sunfire. Have I made myself quite clear? Will that letter be explicit enough for your superiors to understand?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Good. Then do it,” Celestia said. “And, before I go, I’ll offer you a word of advice, Miss Silver Spoon. You are a polite and sweet young mare, and I imagine you will go on to do good things in your life. Still, if I were you, I would distance yourself from following this corporation too closely.” 

Celestia did not say anything further. Instead, she turned tail to the speechless filly and started trudging across the park, back towards the city.

Once more, as Celestia was once more traversing the city streets, she became aware of nearly every Crystal Pony she passed descending into respectful bows. It occurred in such intensity that Equestrians began to as well, evidently seeing themselves as outnumbered. 

Celestia was doing her best to once again respond to the bowing ponies with a simple grateful nod, when to her surprise a small gaggle of half-a-dozen Crystal Ponies actually approached her proper.

They looked quite terrified, and it took the encouragement of all of her friends for one mare to finally step forwards and speak. 

“Your Majesty, it is a great honour to have you grace our community here. When rumors spoke of the great Princess Celestia being in Neighaghra Falls, we were all quite hoping for you to arrive. And now you have! If there’s anything we can do to help you in any way, please do not hesitate to ask.” 

“Oh my,” Celestia said, taking no action to disguise her surprise. “Thank you very much, my dear! I was not expecting such a warm reception to follow me—considering I am doing little else but making my way back to my hotel.” 

“I believe I speak for most of us that we are greatly indebted to you. Your courage and mercy surely know no bounds.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said again, still quite taken aback at how she was being received. Then again, she supposed she should not have been so surprised to be praised by a generation of ponies that, a little over a decade ago, had been slaves to a nearly-merciless tyrant. 

“Truthfully…” the Crystal Pony mare began, her voice little more than a nervous whisper. “It is a good day for you to be in Neighaghra Falls—it is the first day of Spring, and as such we are having our annual community feast to celebrate the melting snow and coming summer. We would be honoured if you attended.” 

A wide smile split across Celestia’s face. “I… am nearly speechless. I wouldn’t want to intrude upon any previous plans.” 

Despite her nearly overpowering nervousness, the mare smiled earnestly. “Your Majesty, with respect, you freed us from slavery and from war, and welcomed us into your country in our time of need while even your own ponies were crying for our execution. Inviting you to a traditional annual gathering is a fraction of the reception you deserve.” 

“Well,” Celestia said, smiling widely. “I would be very pleased by that indeed. I am very grateful for the respect and love you ponies have shown me.”

And truly, she was.  

Celestia followed the group of ponies into the heart of the Crystal District, wearing a rare smile of genuine gratitude. 


x


When Twilight awoke, Celestia’s bed was empty, and the princess was gone.

As the day turned to night, still, Celestia did not return. 

When the Sun finally fell and Celestia had not returned, Twilight Sparkle made her way to the roof of the hotel to instead await Nightmare Moon.

She did so with a pot of boiling tea and a box of store-bought cookies floating in her magic.

“The hell?” Nightmare Moon growled as her chosen greeting. “Expecting somepony else?” 

“No, I just thought…” Twilight sunk her head shamefully. “I just thought maybe you’d… uh…”

“How adorable,” Nightmare Moon said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “A thousand years ago I had madponies offering their own blood as sacrifice. Today, I’ve got a chubby unicorn freak offering me cookies.” 

“I’m just trying to be—”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Nightmare Moon said. “But it’s going to take a little more than cookies and tea to make me respect you. So get that tiara on your ugly head and get to work.” 

Twilight did not hesitate, and soon enough she was extending her magic to the Moon above. 

The rest of Twilight’s night passed in a blur of repetition and ferocious focus, as she raised and lowered the Moon again and again at Nightmare Moon’s command. The whole while, the midnight alicorn was watching her with a stern glare, one contradicted by her occasional nibbles of the cookies that Twilight had brought with her. Despite Nightmare Moon’s ridicule and vitriol upon her arrival, she seemed content to mostly watch Twilight and offer the occasional cold word of advice. 

For the most part, Nightmare Moon remained silent for much of the night. 

The Moon dipped below the horizon, and then was promptly guided back upwards again, a countless flurry of repetition. It was hidden behind a thick cover of rainclouds, and Twilight was thankful for their presence. The last thing she and Celestia needed were rumours of Discord’s return. 

Twilight began guiding the Moon upwards once more, and she almost failed to hear Nightmare Moon over the course of her sparking magic. 

“Huh.” Nightmare Moon had said, although her attention seemed to be directed at the streetcars weaving through the streets twenty-floors below. “Good work, Twilight Sparkle.” 

For a moment, the Moon paused its ascent as Twilight’s mind reeled in surprise. 

“Did you j-just s-say—” 

“I didn’t say stop, shitwit,” Nightmare Moon snarled. 

“Sorry!” Twilight squawked, hastily guiding the Moon the rest of the way. The Sunstone was glowing frantically, as though struggling to keep up with Twilight’s own rapidly flowing magic. Twilight knew with a sort of morbid pride that she was no longer relying solely on the strength of the Sunstone—every time the Moon ascended, it did so thanks to a bit more of Twilight’s magic and a bit less of the Sunstone’s. 

When the Moon was once more at the peak of the midnight sky, Nightmare Moon spoke again. 

“Yes, Twilight Sparkle. You heard me correctly earlier. You are treating my Moon with the respect it deserves. I am…” Nightmare Moon trailed off, her head sinking as she nervously scratched an ear. “Referring to your training… I am proud of my achievement. It has not been easy.” 

Twilight hid her smile with effort. She was hardly surprised that Nightmare Moon would try to take full credit for a compliment she had thoughtlessly uttered, but she was certainly surprised it had left the alicorn’s eternally snarling maw in the first place. 

Seeing Nightmare Moon act like a stern schoolteacher caught in a moment of pride filled Twilight with a sense of optimism that Celestia’s incurable positivity had oddly failed to deliver. 

“Thank you for teaching me, Nightmare Moon. I appreciate you granting a pony like me your time.” 

Nightmare Moon clicked her tongue, grinning despite her apparent efforts not to. “Very good. I daresay I am starting to like you. You have a skill, but possess enough humbleness not to see yourself as anything beyond your own measly place. You’re a pawn and you see yourself as such.” 

“T… thank you,” Twilight said again, not knowing how else to respond. Against her better judgement, she let emotion take control of her tongue. “I like speaking with you, Nightmare Moon. Sometimes I feel like Celestia is so afraid of making me feel inadequate that she refuses to really be honest with how she feels about me. It’s refreshing to speak with somepony who can respect me without treating me like some prodigal daughter.” 

Nightmare Moon frowned. “I don’t think ‘respect’ is an accurate word. I think the word you are searching for is ‘tolerate.’” 

Twilight sunk her head in apologetic shame, but Nightmare Moon did not seem to be very offended. Never before had Twilight seen Nightmare Moon with such a calm and thoughtful disposition. She had not even raised her voice once over the course of their mentoring session. 

“Mmm,” Nightmare Moon hummed pensively. “You are using the Sunstone considerably less now, aren’t you?” 

Twilight nodded. 

“I must admit I am impressed,” Nightmare Moon said. “Take the crown off and make an attempt.” 

“Raise the Moon… without the Sunstone?” 

Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes impatiently. “Yes. I don’t see how that sentence could have been interpreted any other way.” 

“I’m just… it’s… it’s two in the morning, and we’ve been going at it since sundown—”

“I’m not asking you to do it, you whiny brat.” Nightmare Moon rose to her hooves, her tone sharpening as her glare did the same. “I’m ordering you to do it. Don’t disobey me—ponies who have done that have exhibited a rather pathetic life-to-death ratio.”

“Okay,” Twilight sighed in defeat. “I apologize.” 

“That is intelligent of you.” 

Once more, Twilight turned her magic to the Moon, but only after removing the Sunstone from her head and setting it down at her hooves. Nightmare Moon watched passively as she struggled to find a connection with the Moon. Twilight tried not to be irritated by Nightmare Moon’s obvious impatience, considering Nightmare Moon had been the one who had demanded they continue in the first place. 

Had it been Twilight’s choice, she’d be back in the hotel sleeping. 

“Stay focused, Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare Moon cooed. Even with her eyes shut in concentration, Twilight could feel Nightmare Moon approaching her—the black alicorn carried about her an ever present aura of dark magic that seemed to chill the entire immediate world around Twilight. It was an iciness akin to a crypt or a catacomb, and it hung over Nightmare Moon like cheap perfume. 

Still, Nightmare Moon’s whispering remark was hardly the demanding tone that Twilight had observed when Nightmare Moon had first begun to terrorize her. Indeed, ever since Celestia’s beach house, Nightmare Moon’s abrasive attitude towards her had begun to diminish—although Twilight doubted anypony else would have noticed a change. Nearly every sentence Nightmare Moon spoke was still typically a patronizing or commanding one, but no longer was her every remark spoken as a barking order or retort. Indeed, she seemed to carry some thin level of respect towards Twilight, and even if it was only because of the usefulness Twilight presented to her, she found herself honoured it even existed in the first place. 

Twilight had proven what Celestia had denied; Nightmare Moon was not an unchangeable, murderous fiend. She did not seem to be the simple black to Luna’s white, as Celestia claimed. She was a mare, with her own goals and fears. 

The hotel roof was cast in a spectrum of purple as Twilight’s magic continued reverberating without direction into the black sky above, searching for the Moon’s tug with no assistance beyond Twilight’s own feeble attempts. 

Abruptly, and without quite understanding how, Twilight’s magic strayed upon the Moon, for but a brief moment, before vanishing back into the night sky’s void. Still, in the split-second she had made contact, Twilight had pulsed her magic in the mad hope that it would somehow affect the great celestial body above her. 

“Stop casting magic,” Nightmare Moon said abruptly. “Twilight Sparkle… the Moon just moved.” 

“I… I’m trying—!” 

“No, you aren’t trying,” Nightmare Moon interrupted, frowning. “You are succeeding. You moved the Moon on your own will. Without my assistance or the Starstone on your head.” 

“I only moved it by a hair, though!” Twilight protested. 

“You moved the bloody Moon, Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare Moon said. Twilight cringed as Nightmare Moon’s painfully icy wing rested on her back. “You have my permission to be a little proud of yourself. You’ve proven my hopes. Now, go sleep or gorge yourself with pastries or whatever it is you do when you’re not benefiting Equestria in your own pathetic little way.”