“That’s… awful,” Twilight lamented.
“Indeed it is, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, gravely nodding, “War is a brutal affair, and don’t forget it. Only in the most dire of situations, and as the very last of all options, should it be resorted to. It does not matter that our enemies were ‘beastly’. If there were a peaceful resolution, we would have found it.”
Twilight paused, a hesitant question on the edge of her lips. She had to ask. “The humans… are they really all gone?”
Celestia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. Twilight recognized her tone as a cautious, gentle letdown. “There was talk of survivors, ships that sailed across the seas in order to get away from the war, but they were most likely desperate rumors of ponies that wanted to believe there was still hope. Of course, the corners of the map have yet to be filled, but I’m afraid the chances of their survival are quite slim. It pains me to say, but the humans have been gone from this world for over a thousand years.”
Twilight shook her head. “I just can’t believe Discord would do all of that. I mean, he obviously wasn’t harmless, but killing? Torture? The annihilation of an entire civilization? That’s more than mischief that’s, that’s… brutal! That’s insane!”
“Insane. Hmm,” Celestia contemplated the word. “Actually, Twilight, I think Discord was very sane.”
Twilight shot her teacher an incredulous look. “What do you mean?” she asked, her tone disbelieving and slightly accusatory.
“Do not misunderstand me, Twilight, what Discord did was horrible and absolutely wrong. It was no coincidence that one of his many nicknames was ‘Evil Incarnate’. However,” Celestia said, shifting to a contemplative posture, “he was… polite. Very well mannered, outspoken, and quick-witted. He was always open for negotiations, if he thought it would benefit him. Were he a normal pony, he would have been a master on the floor of debate. He was very good at manipulating people by twisting logic and pushing the correct emotional buttons.
“Discord had one goal: to shake the world apart, and bring about absolute chaos. On this, he would not waver. But to get there, he made very specific plans. To us, they seemed disjointed and nonsensical, but they always came together in the end. Patterns, it seems, exist even in chaos.”
Celestia glanced at her pupil, who still could not believe Discord had ever been a diplomat, a strategist, and, most of all, a psychopathic murderer.
“But he seemed so playful!” Twilight objected.
“Yes, he did have his fun,” Celestia agreed. “To him, it was all a game, with pure chaos as the winning condition. But do not be fooled. His deeds go far beyond those of a mischievous prankster. I have often wondered, but it is my guess that he was still weak from the thousand years he spent in stone. Ponyville tasted only the smallest fraction of his power. Had he been allowed his freedom for much longer, it would have been immeasurably worse. I imagine Ponyville would have become unlivable, even with the aid of the Elements.”
Twilight reeled with wonder, a reaction that was quickly becoming a regular occurrence during her sessions with the Princess. There were so many things she never knew she never knew. For a scholar like Twilight, it was humbling.
She had many more questions. What exactly were sinisteeds? Why were the minotaurs working with Discord? What was this “shadow”? Where was Clover when “Plan B” had ultimately failed? Did it fail because she was gone? What became of Joe-seff? She was equally curious about all of them, but none struck her with the same eagerness as:
“What happened next with you and Lucky?”
**********
Lucky took a few quick steps forward, but was met with an invisible wall of indecision. Celestia’s lamenting sobs echoed through the hall, reflecting upon the bitter grief of a broken heart. She tried to smother her emotions, but it was too much, resulting in hushed cries that very clearly betrayed her sorrow.
It was not until Celestia’s irregular hoofsteps had completely faded that Clover voiced her rebuttal. It was not the soft wisdom that Lucky had come to expect from the old mare, but harsh criticism.
“Brute!” she declared. Her ancient voice wavered with angry accusation. “Ruffian! Fool! You immoral lout of a stallion! You stupid, stupid colt!”
Lucky had no answer. He stood motionless, facing away from Clover. His face was unreadable.
“You say she is a weapon. Tell me, Lieutenant, does your sword cry tears? Does your lance seek for meaning? Do you utter nightly assurances to your switchblade, that its heart may stay happy and its edge may stay sharp?” Clover’s tone was dangerous and condemning. “Since you have nothing to say, I should guess not! That sound, Lieutenant, was the keen of a bitter heart, not the soulless clatter of metal!”
Lucky’s only reaction was to take another step forward. He looked as if he were lost in a dream. The guardsponies were standing just outside the door, and though it was their job to remain unfazed, they had completely foregone their stoicism. Never in their life had they seem Clover rail against another pony like this. She was always so calm, and even when it behooved her to chasten another, it was always with a tranquil correction. The guards’ mouths were agape, and their gazes swiveled between Clover, Lucky, and the stairwell hallway the alicorn mare had fled through only a moment ago.
“Celestia will never aid you, now. Were I that mare, I would scarcely bend over to retrieve a lost coin of yours, let alone charge into battle at your command!” Clover’s expression was a vicious snarl. It looked odd on the face of one so old, but was all the more intimidating for it. “If anyone is a tool, it is you. The spread of disharmony by the home’s hearth is no different than by the battle’s front. That is exactly what Discord wants. Unfeeling, uncaring tools!”
Clover began to walk toward the door to her balcony. “You have much to think on, Lucky Break. The Maiden would have condemned such conduct.”
At this, Lucky hung his head, his ears flat. “Get out of my observatory,” Clover growled.
The guards made a hesitant motion toward Lucky, meaning to escort him from the room. Before they could reach him, he legs became unstuck, and he shuffled out on his own accord. His gait was stiff and slow.
The observatory doors slammed behind him. Lucky looked wearily back. The guards shot him mean looks, threatening to forcibly remove him should he not continue moving. He would have returned the anger, but the indignant fire in his belly was burnt out, doused by an ice-cold splash of anguish. Melancholy steam rose steadily from the ashes. He turned away and slowly exited the area.
He felt ashamed. He had just broken the heart of a poor, unwitting mare who had done him no wrong. How could he?
No! She had done him every wrong! There was no greater misdeed that could be done to a pony than Celestia had done to him!
But her sins were committed unknowingly. For that, should he bear a grudge?
Yes! Sins are sins, regardless of the intent! Justice demands.
No. Clemency is requisite for the oblivious sinner. Mercy implores.
But he had no need of mercy! He would not beg the sympathy of Discord’s beasts, nor should he expect it from them. No doubt they returned the sentiment. He was no saint, he was no knight, he was no paladin. He was a soldier. Brutality was his business. Mercy had yet to slay a single enemy. Why should he vest in such a useless notion?
‘Daylight.’
‘She confided in me for this very purpose.’
‘She knew you would be like this.’
‘Such bitterness.’
‘Do you remember her last request?’
Impossible.
‘Impossible? Surely you do not think that, Lucky.’
‘The Maiden would condemn such conduct.’
Lucky reached the bottom of the tower with a headache. Pacing at the end of the spiral staircase was Apple Crumble, anxiously mumbling something to himself. It relieved Lucky to see a friendly face, though he wondered why Crumble was here. Lucky stepped off the stairs, and looked to Crumble.
“I did not expect to see you here. Good greetings,” Lucky said, trying to summon a sense of normalcy to his tone and composure.
“Oh, good greetin’s indeed,” Crumble grumbled back. “Yeh villain, what yeh done this time, eh?”
The insult, Lucky could tell, was not in jest. “What do you mean?” he asked, his composure deteriorating as quickly as he had constructed it.
“Yeh know good n’ well what I mean,” Crumble snapped. “I know that mare didn’t come down those stairs bawlin’ on account of Clover not fetchin’ the righ’ flavor o’ tea. Now, I don’t care if yeh tell me or not, but yeh’d best go an’ apologize, yeh scoundrel. Otherwise, her tears are likely to dehydrate her.”
“You… you don’t…!” Lucky stuttered. “You cannot speak to your commanding officer like that!”
“Yeh’re not my commander,” Crumble growled dangerously. “Not yet. Lieutenant.”
They stared each other down with determined, angry expressions. Eventually, Lucky gave a grunt of furious frustration, and stormed out of the tower, and past the line of guards in the courtyard outside. Curiously, they were all soldiers of the 21st. They cast him scrutinizing looks as he stomped away.
**********
Squinting through a thick film of tears, Celestia had galloped away as fast as her injured leg would allow. She exited the tower, and easily rushed past the line of guards, who stood with vigilant attention towards the outside, not expecting somepony to come from the other direction.
The courtyard exited into one of the palace’s main halls, and from there it was a fairly straightforward path to the palace exit. Some of the ponies from before still lingered, and watched her tearful flight with curiosity, but none of them dared to follow. She burst out of the palace doors, and fled into the city.
It was past midnight, and even most of the late workers had turned in. The streets were calm, save for the disturbance of a single, sorrowful mare. Celestia turned this way and that, weaving in and out of roads and alleyways, following no direction but “away”. Finally, she gave into the pain of her injury and the exhaustion of her lungs, and collapsed in an abandoned alley, and cried.
Her heartfelt lament had reduced to private, choking gasps, but they were no less mournful because of it. What was she? An alicorn, certainly, but what more? A tool. A marionette. A weapon. A monster. She cried harder.
Eventually, she could cry no more. Her tears had simply run dry. An emergency mechanism in her mind has caused had her to go numb, and she suddenly felt extremely tired. Slumping against the cold white stone, she allowed sleep to overtake her, already picturing the maddening, pitying strangers that awaited her in her dreams.
**********
The dream seemed to last forever.
And why shouldn’t-
“Hey!”
**********
Celestia woke with a start. “Huh…?” she wearily mumbled.
“Hey, you!”
Celestia sat up, rubbed her eyes, and looked around. There was nopony.
“H-hello?” Celestia weakly called. Her voice was small and fearful, terrified at the prospect of company. She could not bear the thought of being tormented by the scorn of yet another pony.
“What are you doing here?” the voice inquired. It was clear and high-pitched, and obviously feminine. A sudden thought struck Celestia. Was she trespassing?
Celestia quickly rose to her trembling legs, and stuttered a hasty apology. “O-oh, please forgive me, I, I just t-thought I could…” she trailed off, as she realized she was apologizing to the empty air. She turned a full circle, and still saw nopony. “Pardon, but where… are you?”
“Right here, silly!” Celestia staggered forward as the voice startled her from directly behind. Celestia lost her already unsure footing, and tumbled to the ground.
“Oops! Are you okay?” A pair of enormous, light pink eyes completely filled her vision.
“O-oh, I-”
“Here, let me help you!” the stranger said. Celestia felt a tingle on her back, and there was a sudden rush of motion. A gust of telekinetic power swept at her off of her legs, brought her to a shaky stand, but not before spinning her around a full circle and a half while in midair. Celestia dizzily steadied herself against a wall.
“Sorry,” the voice apologized, “my magic is a little swirly sometimes. Well, all the times, actually.”
Celestia gently shook her head, blinked the remainder of weariness out of her eyes, and raised her head to view her company. There was nopony.
“Um… hello?” she called.
“Right here!” The response had again come from directly behind her. Celestia again jumped in surprise, and wheeled around. “Tee hee! You’re so funny.”
A young unicorn mare stood before her, younger than even herself. By the lamplight, she could see the mare’s coat, which was a bright cyan. Her mane was a saccharine mix of purple and pink, and her tail likewise. They were both rife with curls and twists. On her front, she wore a white apron, messily splotched like an artist’s palette with a rainbow of colorful stains. Curiously, the unicorn’s horn was somewhat different, though Celestia could not put her hoof on exactly how. Eventually, she realized it. All unicorns had a natural, smooth spiral formation on their horn; this mare’s was positively “swirly”, like two narrowing strands of licorice wrapping around each other.
However, most noticeably of all, featured on the mare’s face was a huge, happy smile.
“Uh,” Celestia dumbly started. She had no idea how to react. “Thank you…?”
The mare’s smile faded, and she gasped. “Wow,” she said in slow amazement. Celestia immediately despaired. She knew that look. The stranger had spotted her wings and horn. Sure enough, her next words confirmed Celestia’s fears.
“You have wings… and a horn!” she marveled. Celestia turned away and dropped to the ground, curling against the rough stone. She did not have the strength to run any further. Let the mare have her fun. She emotionally braced herself. A whimper escaped her lips.
“That’s so amazing!” the stranger exclaimed.
Celestia recoiled, curling tighter against the stone, and…
“Wait,” Celestia cautiously said, raising her head. “What?”
“Yeah! Your wings are so pretty!” she said with delight. “And your horn is so elegant! And your coat… well, it’s kind of dirty, actually. But if we got it clean, boy would it shine!”
Celestia took another look at this new stranger. Though she was no doubt an young adult mare, her tone betrayed a child-like animation, only aided by her small stature. Her smiling expression was a pure distillation of enthusiasm itself.
“You’re not… scared of me?” Celestia timidly asked.
Her smile faded into a look of honest confusion. “Scared of you? Why would I be scared of you?”
Celestia shuddered. “Because I’m…”
“Do you think I should be scared of you?” she asked.
“N-no!” Celestia cried indignantly. “Or… yes? I don't know…”
“Well is it yes, or no?” she demanded. “Should I flee to safety?”
“No, you don't need to need to flee,” Celestia murmured. It almost sounded like a plea for company.
“Do you intend to hurt me?” the mare asked, almost indignant.
“No, I will not hurt you,” Celestia softly replied. “I’ve never hurt anypony…”
“You look harmless to me,” she insisted. Her face scrunched into an expression of utmost concentration as she surveyed Celestia. She had no idea what the filly, no, the mare was looking for. Her scrutinizing gaze played up and down Celestia’s features one last time before she spoke up.
“Yep! Completely harmless!” she happily pronounced, the smile returning to her face. She giggled. “I've decided I don't need to be scared of you. There, that was easy!” She said it as if breaking good news to a best friend.
The declaration felt almost cleansing, the way she had so simply exclaimed it, as if it were one of the world’s simple truths. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Celestia is harmless. She could not believe it was true. Not that she refused to; she simply could not. Her mind did not allow for it. Celestia had been convinced of her status as a something less than a pony.
“My name is Cotton! Can we be friends? Oh, I would just love that!” the mare said. Seeing the dejected look on Celestia’s face, she added, “Oh, or we could just be acquaintances first. You know, wave to each other in town, say hi at the sweet shop. And then I would invite you to my birthday party, and we would chat, and BLAM-O! We’re friends!”
Cotton paused and tapped a contemplative hoof to her chin. “Nah, that takes too long. We should just be friends now. Much simpler.” She nodded with a content smile.
Celestia was stunned. None of what this mare was saying made sense to her. “B-but… but…”
“But what?” Cotton asked. She scowled, and wagged a disapproving hoof at Celestia. “Oh, don’t you tell me we shouldn’t be friends, either. Nonsense!”
Celestia stuttered her response. “But-”
“I will not hear it!” Cotton interrupted.
“But I-”
“Nope!”
“But I’m a monster!” Celestia blurted out, crying and shouting simultaneously.
The shout echoed in the silence. The moment Celestia said it, she deeply regretted it. Cotton was aghast, the smile completely gone. Celestia drooped her head. She really was a monster.
And then, Cotton burst into laughter.
“Oh, you silly! Don’t you know? You’re not a monster, you’re an alicorn!” She giggled and clutched her side, as if it were the most absurd thing in the whole world. The peals of her wholehearted laughter were like clear, ringing bells, practical medicine to the ears and soul.
“B-but… all those ponies… I’m so different. Everypony hates me.” Celestia closed her eyes, and looked away. “He hates me.”
“Because you’re different? That’s not a very good reason,” Cotton said, shaking her head. “I’m different from you. Do you hate me?”
“No, but-”
“No buts!” Cotton interjected. “No buts, butts, or bhutts, which is a traditional griffin candy imported from... never mind.”
Celestia’s weak argument fell by the wayside. Her expression seemed to be not one of acquiescence, but of defeat. She did not agree with the cheery stranger, but had simply given up on arguing about it. She was so cold, and so very tired. Celestia collapsed to her knees, and lay unmoving upon the stone.
“Are you okay? You look cold,” Cotton asked. Celestia did not respond. “The stone is a little hard to be sleeping on. Do you have a place to stay?”
“No, but-”
“No buts of any sort!” Cotton cried. “You can stay with me!” She trotted to Celestia and extended a helping hoof. The alicorn cringed away. She was still conflicted, both with herself and with the thought of being in the presence of anypony.
“Surely you don’t prefer the wet streets over a shelter?” Cotton asked. “Wouldn’t you like to sleep in a warm, cozy bed instead of upon this cold stone?”
“Yes, however-”
“Great!” Cotton rejoiced. “Follow me!”
Another twister of magic lifted Celestia off of the ground and sent her spinning to her hooves. She had no time to protest before a leg wrapped around one of her own and pulled her away. She was practically dragged into the street. Cotton was ecstatic. It seemed extremely out of place, given the circumstances and the ungodly hour of morning.
“You’re going to love it! I can start a fire, and we can roast marshmallows, and tell ghost stories, and you can try my signature candy, and… oh!” Cotton paused, looking over at the speechless, stumbling mare in her grasp. “You probably want to sleep, right? You should sleep. We can do all that stuff in the morning! Although, marshmallows aren’t good as a breakfast, and ghost stories aren’t any fun in the light. Oh, oh! I know! I can tell ghost stories while you sleep! I’ll whisper though. Because you are sleeping, obviously.”
Celestia could barely keep up with her pace, let alone her rapid speech. She was still wondering what a “marshmallow” was. Cotton kept talking, her mouth an endless source of why they would enjoy themselves. To Celestia, it was a confusing but blissful background noise.
Cotton led them to the edge of the city, and then outside of the gate. Celestia was surprised to see a mutual acknowledgement between her and the guards, and was even more surprised when they lowered the gate for her. The guards even seemed glad to see her, a sentiment which she returned full force. She bid them a happy farewell as she led Celestia outside the walls.
When asked by Celestia, Cotton assured her, “My house is just outside the walls. No more room in the main city, you know. It is a small ways, I promise. Oh, this is going to be so fun! We can stay up all night, and talk about stallions we like, and oh wait, you need your sleep. Well, I’ll talk about stallions I like, and you can just sleep.”
Celestia was already practically asleep when they arrived. A smiling Cotton opened the doors to a modest home, and introduced her to a bed that was indeed warm and cozy. Celestia thought she might have said more, but did not know for sure. She lay down, and was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.