i
Celestia smiled at the young Crystal Pony before her as she refilled Celestia’s near-empty cup of tea.
“Kaniqsali,” Celestia said, lowering her head gratefully and sipping the expertly-brewed crowberry tea. She was slightly worried her fluency in the Crystal Empire’s ancient tongue had waned, but it seemed her language skills had not tapered away over the many years.
Against her own logical thought, Celestia had been surprised when she had learned just how predominant the ancient language had been. When Sombra had taken over the Empire over a thousand years ago, one of the first changes he had made had been to the Crystal Empire’s native tongue. He had encouraged his slaves began speaking Equish and not their ‘prehistoric nonsense’, although Celestia knew that his slaves had continued learning their own tongue in secret—a subtle and unspoken jeer against his tyranny.
When Celestia’s army had begun to overtake his, and when the Crystal Ponies had realized they were being freed and not judged by the Equestrian armies before them, the rejoicing of liberated slaves had been screamed to the swirling snows in voices once reserved to terrified hushes far outside the Empire's ears.
Celestia herself had known the language long before Sombra had control of the Crystal Empire. She had learned it out of respect and a strong desire not to be seen by the Crystal Ponies as some gaudy, bumbling tourist, but instead a wise and kind leader who valued their culture enough to be genuinely intrigued by their traditions.
And indeed, as she looked at the glimmering and shining hall of the Neighaghra Falls’ Crystal Pony Community Center, it was quite clear that the Crystal Empire’s traditional values were still held in high regard.
Celestia had hardly made an attempt to disguise how ecstatic she had been to see such a thing. In a world where arcane values were dying and ponies were beginning to cling more and more to symbols of planned obsolescence, it felt refreshing to see so much merit placed in simple traditions.
It certainly was of assistance that, less than thirty years prior for the Crystal Ponies—although much longer for Equestria—their own traditions were struggling in vain to coexist with tyranny and slavery. Sombra had tried his damndest to snuff out every smouldering ember of the Crystal Empire’s culture, and yet even through wars and blizzards and torture and summary executions, their culture had survived where slavery and brutality had eventually ceased to be.
Even amongst their frequent judgement from the tongues of Celestia’s own former subjects, it became clear to Celestia that optimism had formed the new doctrine of the Equestrian Crystal Ponies’ lives. Such was even evident in the humble little community affair Celestia had found herself attending. A hearty feast, celebrated more like a triumphant greeting to Spring, than an angry hoof shaken towards the Winter that had preceded.
Celestia had found herself quite fond of optimism over her life. It rarely disappointed, in the longer run.
She had been welcomed to the celebration with nary an officious remark to be heard. She was not seen as an outsider but instead greeted as the leader she had once been. A friend to the family—as though they were innocently intruding upon their own homes at the same time. Celestia could do little else but sheepishly smile and offer her thanks, wishing waywardly that her foolish repetition of ‘Kaniqsali’ could properly articulate how grateful she truly was.
It became increasingly obvious, as the evening drew to night, that in the long weeks to follow, Celestia had the nearly unwavering support of the Crystal Ponies. They seemed to feel indebted to her, and while Celestia blushed guiltily at the very thought, she could not deny feeling somewhat grateful that she had already secured such a heavy body of support merely by being herself.
While she had been ecstatic to see such celebrations in full-swing, Celestia had found herself content to silently watch the blurry outlines of dancing ponies, and occasionally tapping her hoof along to a lively tune played by some lute-like stringed instrument.
On occasion, some pony had nervously cleared their throat next to her, and she turned with a patient smile as they spoke—most often expressing thanks, but occasionally offering their condolences to Celestia’s own present state of affairs, telling her how sorry they were to see that the mare who had liberated and forgiven them was now left alone to fight for both her life and for her country.
Celestia had responded each time with a murmured ‘Kaniqsali.’
After dinner—and several glasses of vodka—she had been asked to give a short speech. A little taken aback, she had stringed something together regarding hope and the future, and her inexpressible gratitude towards the Crystal Ponies for their welcoming response. The speech, as perhaps haphazard as it had seemed to her, was expressed earnestly, and Celestia had only stumbled on her words once—as it turned out, there were no K’aniqutut words for ‘corporation’ nor ‘democracy.’
Not even a moment after she had sat back down to the tune of a symphony of clinking glassware, did a familiar voice shatter the comfort her own speech had given her.
“You always did have a thing for the garbage these unevolved snow-eaters pass as alcohol, didn’t you Celestia?”
Celestia bristled in surprise and terror. Her glass of vodka hit the table with a loud thud, the heavy crystal affair fortunately not shattering. Still, a few nearby ponies started in surprise, and Celestia tried her best not to show her terror.
And beside her, King Sombra gave a snorting laugh.
“Ta prze’ja,” Celestia murmurred apologetically to the few ponies still staring, quickly wiping up the spilled vodka with a couple of nearby disposable napkins.
“Still embarrassing yourself with that unevolved snowspeak?” Sombra sneered. “Goodness. By the way, and I mean no offense, but you look horrid, Celestia.”
Celestia did not reply. She knew better than to start talking to herself in the middle of a crowded community hall. Nightmare Moon’s presence had a logical explanation, but Celestia had no doubt in her mind that Cadance and Sombra were some product of her decaying mind. She did not wish to give Sombra the dignity she had given Cadance, for unlike her niece, it was a vision that offered her no solace.
“...And I don’t just mean the eye,” Sombra continued. “Although that’s disgusting in its own right. But when, precisely, did you grow so old?”
“Somewhere between age two-thousand and age two-thousand-two-hundred-and-twenty-two,” Celestia growled sarcastically in return, keeping her voice low.
“Well you’re a far cry from the Celestia I once loved.”
“The Celestia you once loved was a fool, Sombra,” Celestia replied. “A fool who never once returned your advances upon her. And that will never change.”
This time, Celestia had said the words with venom.
She instantly regretted doing so when she realized several nearby ponies had perked their ears in her direction, with their passive expressions quite deliberately trained away from Celestia—as though they were trying to listen closely whilst appearing otherwise.
“Considering you literally murdered me, I don’t think I have much ammunition to argue that,” Sombra replied. “I remember that clearly, you know.”
“I do too,” Celestia said. “I have nightmares about my actions from time to time. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” Sombra replied. “Not for me. You’re only sorry for yourself. You’re only sorry your immaculate little ‘conflict-free-victory record’ was once again shattered.”
“That’s a lie!” Celestia growled, once more with a bit more intensity than she had intentioned.
“Ponies are staring, Celestia,” Sombra taunted, and Celestia could see that he was right. No longer a few turned heads; she had attracted the attention of most of the ponies near her lonely table. “The wretched, archaic, gibberish-speaking jewlery-ponies are staring.”
Celestia bristled at his insult, but she knew that he was not mistaken.
So, she looked to the Crystal Ponies gazing at her, gave them a small smile, and abruptly told them that she needed to go. She did not linger long enough to see if any concerned ponies had followed her, and instead quickly made her way to the ‘exit’ sign in the back of the community hall.
She trotted down a few metal steps that took her into a dimly-lit alleyway, where Sombra was already waiting.
“Couldn’t afford to dent your messianic image, could you?”
“Shut up, Sombra,” Celestia replied, trotting past him without turning.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? My ponies bowing to your glory? Equestria wasn’t enough for you, hrm?”
“Shut up!” Celestia said again. “I never wanted any of this! All I wanted was for things to be right!”
“Is that why you lied in all of the history books?”
This time, Celestia stopped in her tracks.
“I did not.”
“You did,” Sombra replied breezily, a small frown on his face. “A thousand years ago. You said that I threw the first stone at Equestria. I did not. You invaded us.”
Celestia’s maw twisted in a sneer, and she continued walking. “I tried to free a nation from tyranny, after your subjects begged me to do so.”
“By the non-existing gods, you’re a hypocrite,” Sombra said. “What makes you so sure that you’re right, hrm? What makes you think you’re right about this?!”
Sombra motioned wildly at the smog-filled-sky above them, at an Equestria that neither of them possessed now.
“Allow me to recap,” Sombra continued. “Your subjects turned away from you. They begged some other leader for a change. That other leader gave them their change, and they loved it. Now, you are back and trying to take back what is yours."
Celestia once more stopped, her eyes locked on the silent evening streets of Neighaghra Falls, her back stubbornly turned to the tall unicorn behind her.
“Don’t you get it?” Sombra said. “You’re in my position now. How do you like the feeling of betrayal, huh? It sure is nice to have centuries of effort—of trying to get every little thing in your nation perfect—suddenly torn away by a self-righteous bitch who thinks they are some prophesied white dove. Isn’t it?”
“I am fighting for the future,” Celestia replied. “One I have no intention of seeing. You only fought for yourself, Sombra.”
“Yes, keep telling yourself that, Celestia. I’m sure life is a lot easier when you see every leader who isn’t yourself in such clear-cut shades of black.”
“Why are you here, Sombra?” Celestia brought a hoof to her now-pounding temples.
“Beyond the obvious ‘cause you’ve come fully undone?’”
“I was hoping for something a little more dignified, yes.”
Sombra snorted. “Ask your sister. Or whatever is left of her.”
Celestia nodded. “For the record, I am sorry, Sombra.”
“Why? What reason could you have to feel sorry for me?”
“I am sorry that I have never been able to stand you,” Celestia said, and once more turned tail to the former king and continued onwards towards the street.
ii
Sleep did not come easily to Celestia, even after she had walked all the way back to their hotel and flopped without grace onto her bed. Twilight lay in the opposite, snoring loudly and occasionally mumbling in her sleep about unemployment rates and unfair taxation.
When it became clear that sleep would not be a luxury that night would provide her, Celestia instead lit her horn and lifted the still unread letter from Prince Blueblood off of the end table and closer to her snout.
By the light of her own glowing magic, Celestia read.
~~~
To the desk of H.R.H. Princess Celestia,
From the pen of the righteous Prince Claudius Blueblood the VI of Canterlot,
Good day, Auntie Celestia, and good tidings from New Canterlot, to wherever you are when you receive this correspondence.
Enclosed in this parcel is a cheque written by me for a small sum of two million bits. Since your will requested I dissipate your treasury as I thought you would see fit, I was kind of left with the assumption that you were broke. Hence the extra dough. Don’t go spending it all in one place.
Obviously there is more that I have every intention of returning to you (you left me with a fortune, Auntie) but I hardly think you would feel comfortable with me essentially wiring you nearly six million bits.
Anyways, that’s not necessarily the purpose of the letter. First of all, I am to be guest-starring on a late night talk-show on the NCPR (my assistant says I should specify that this means New Canterlot Public Radio, but I think he’s being a little skeptical towards your ability to adapt). You are the subject of this particular talk-show, and I’m going to be speaking in support of you. You’re welcome, and I hope you tune in.
I say support, because truthfully Auntie, you have it. Nonetheless, I feel inclined to raise a rather frightening concern that has appeared in listening to your few public self-representations thus far.
Namely, a lack of confidence. You, Auntie, do not seem to radiate an aura of determination. Your actions are defensive but not offensive. You seem frightened to take any quick movements towards your throne, and I understand why you would be. You are dancing on a highwire, but you aren’t really going to get much closer to safety by standing around on the highwire, either.
So, bluntly put, you have support, Celestia. Mine, certainly, and I have enough influence to guarantee more on my end. Things aren’t over for you, so stop acting like they are and get your voice back onto the wavelengths proving such.
Oh, one more thing. I... think you’ve made a mistake with your ‘Crown Minister’, so to speak. An overweight incompetent anarchist wouldn’t exactly be my first choice for such a position.
There. That’s my friendly advice to you. Now, I imagine you’re a busy mare, so I won’t keep you much longer. Good luck, Auntie Celestia, and know that you’re still loved by a greater population than you think. Trust me on that.
Sincerely,
Your Nephew.
~~~
It had taken Celestia the better part of half-an-hour to finally finish the letter. With her eyeglasses more or less unable to add any clarity to the illegible blur that was the expensive bit of faux-parchment, she instead had to rely on a crude strategy that her younger sister had once taught her.
Enveloping the entire letter carefully in her aura, she let her magic seep into the paper itself. Breathing carefully, her mind a meditated calm perfected over centuries, Celestia had slowly but confidently picked out the swirling cursive markings of ink that Prince Blueblood’s quill had engraved into the paper.
The cursive markings her probing magic slowly crept over was calmly translated into words in Celestia’s mind, and in this manner Celestia had slowly made her way through the entire letter. Each sentence was a minute of effort, but eventually Celestia’s magic no longer brushed upon any more indentations, and she knew with confidence that his letter was over.
It was hardly with victory that Celestia greeted the accomplishment of her task, but rather a hollow, introspective contemplation regarding how every other letter she would read for the rest of her life would be a similar exercise in tedium.
Rolling over in bed, she let out a long breath from her snout and internally told herself to stop being so damn negative. Then, she rolled over once again, and groped about in the darkness, searching for Twilight Sparkle’s notebook atop the end table between the hotel beds.
Amazingly, Celestia found it, and promptly ripped out a page and removed the pen Twilight had jammed into the bindings of the notebook.
Once more by the feeble light of her own horn, she composed a brief letter.
~~~
Dear Blueblood,
I am going to be confronting Flim Flam Industry’s Board of Directors sometime in the very near future. I would greatly appreciate it if you joined me.
Love, Celestia
~~~
Without hesitation, Celestia sent the letter off with a flare of magic, and then once more closed her eyes to the hotel room. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually it came nonetheless.
Dawn found her waking to an empty hotel room, and when Celestia had finished raising the Sun she extended her magic to the Moon instead and frowned when her fears were proven correct.
Twilight was gone, and the glowing Sunstone that she had taken note the night prior was too. Neither would have been cause for concern, but now that Celestia found the Moon in a different place, she knew better than to shoo away her own morbid skepticism.
Still, when Twilight returned bearing muffins and coffees, Celestia could not bring herself to demand that the unicorn explain herself. Not with so much still on her mind.
“Good morning, Celestia,” Twilight said, smiling and passing Celestia a coffee. “Brought some cream and sugar… wasn’t really sure what you take.”
“Black is fine, thank you,” Celestia replied.
“Is everything okay? I was worried about you when you didn’t show up last night.”
Celestia sipped her coffee and smiled. As calmly as she could with her own suspicions of Twilight’s actions the night prior clawing at her, she recounted her own night, taking great care to leave King Sombra far from her explanation.
“Huh. Well I’m really happy for you,” Twilight said through a mouthful of muffin. There was more to the statement, but it was lost to Celestia.
“Thank you, Twilight.” Celestia smiled. “I am also going to once more be speaking with Flim Flam Industry on the radio. This time with representatives from the Board of Directors themselves.”
Twilight sputtered out the rest of her muffin, gawking in shock. “You’re what?!”
Celestia patiently repeated herself.
“Are… are you sure? Already?”
“I think I’ve delayed too long,” Celestia replied. “And frankly, I don’t feel like I have much longer to delay. This time, I am going in with research, and with confidence.”
“Well, I’m a poor resource for the latter,” Twilight said. “But I’ve got plenty of the former back at my library. Although just so you know, they switch out members of the Board of Directors all the time. Keeps their inner-workings nice and faceless. The chance of you talking with whoever was ‘responsible’ for your imprisonment is unlikely.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Celestia said. “I’m looking to expose truth, not carry out justice. It is not a hindrance that they identify as a unit. It simply means they will be responsible for answering to whatever errors their predecessors have made in the past.”
“True.” Twilight nodded. “Well, I can try peddling my articles at the train station again today… and maybe we could afford tickets back to Old Canterlot…?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Celestia replied. Without looking, she levitated Blueblood’s parcel and let Twilight examine the contents. The unicorn immediately gravitated towards the cheque.
“We are millionaires, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, grinning at Twilight’s look of sheer disbelief.
“B...but...what?!”
“My nephew’s inheritance,” Celestia explained. “Or… or rather, my inheritance.” Celestia waved a hoof. “Semantics. Count it on the Princess of the Sun to collect her own inheritance, hrm?”
Twilight gave a hyena-like chuckle and said nothing more.
“Half is yours; for your services in helping me—both reclaiming my throne, and regaining my own confidence,” Celestia said. “And when my throne is returned to me, the other half shall be yours also.”
Twilight gawked, sputtering out a few nonsense syllables. “B... but… I don’t… I can’t… What about you?”
“In a few years, I will have no need for money,” Celestia replied.
Twilight blinked.
“...Because I’ll be dead,” Celestia elaborated.
Twilight blinked again.
“It was a joke, Twilight.”
“For such an optimistic pony, you have a pretty dark sense of humor,” Twilight replied.
“I am sorry,” Celestia said, although her smirk seemed to betray her own words. “Regardless… I am looking forwards to being back in Old Canterlot.”
“The ‘hopeless and dirty slum of a city?’” Twilight cocked her head.
“The one and only.” Celestia nodded, recalling her past words with a slight blush. “Or, the one of many, as the state of Equestrian affairs seems. All the more reason to make trails swiftly.”
“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “I miss my library.”
iii
Twilight smiled at the sky above, the stars and the Moon blurring across the rain-soaked glass roof.
In the corner of her eye, she could see Nightmare Moon peering intently at the landscape rushing by on all sides of her. Twilight hadn’t realized that passenger trains would have been a surprising sight for Nightmare Moon, but like the streetcars in Neighaghra Falls, she seemed fascinated by what was in fact ancient technology to Twilight.
They were in a dome-car of a passenger train tearing towards New Canterlot—Twilight had thought it would make a good vantage point to raise the Moon at, and there she sat waiting for Nightmare Moon to appear.
When she did, Twilight greeted her with a smile and a friendly nod that the black alicorn made no attempt to echo. Hardly discouraged, Twilight continued smiling as she reached into her saddlebag to withdraw the Sunstone.
Her smile instantly vanished when she realized the familiar gold crown was not there.
“W...what!” Twilight said instinctively. “No!”
She flipped her saddlebag upside down, ignoring the ticket stubs and empty cigarette packages that fell out, and then stuck her entire snout into the bag to check for the Sunstone.
Letting out a panicked whimper, she withdrew her snout from the saddlebag once again.
“Something the matter?” Nightmare Moon drawled.
“It’s not in here,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “Oh, Celestia is going to kill me.”
“Then that’ll make two of us,” Nightmare Moon said, and rolled her eyes. “What does it matter, exactly? I thought we were learning how to raise the Moon without the Sunstone.”
“Yeah, but… what if somepony else finds it!” Twilight pounded a hoof against the floor. “Or… or… what if she found it!”
At that, Nightmare Moon frowned. Twilight could have sworn she had seen worry flood into Nightmare Moon’s face.
“Hm,” the black alicorn hummed. “She would be rather suspicious if she found you carrying it around.”
“...Or if she finds the Moon in a slightly different place from where she left it,” Twilight said. “Or both.”
As if on cue, Nightmare Moon’s eyes grew wide as, in her peripheral, she caught the Moon rising into the sky—visible through quick gaps in the rushing trees.
“Bitch,” Nightmare Moon growled. “That’s mine.”
“Do I…” Twilight began, but stopped when Nightmare Moon shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Don’t risk your magic stream straying upon hers. If she detects your magic, she will definitely become suspicious.”
Twilight gave an agreeing nod. “So… no lessons tonight?”
Nightmare Moon let out a moody, feral-like grunt. “I suppose not. You can take the evening to yourself if you so wish.”
“Th...thank you,” Twilight said, sinking her head humbly.
“Hmph. Don’t get used to it.”
“Well… uh… if we don’t have lessons tonight…” Twilight scratched an ear, blushing and feeling her heart beginning to race. “I was thinking of… uh, going to the dining car and getting a coffee.”
“Um. Good for you?” Nightmare Moon rose an eyebrow.
“It’s just… Celestia was going on about getting some rest before she gets off at New Canterlot,” Twilight said. It wasn’t exactly late, but Twilight figured if anypony deserved a rest, it was Celestia. Even while travelling, the poor old mare has been writing letters all day trying to settle a date and time for a meeting with Flim Flam Industry, as well as exchanging correspondence with Prince Blueblood.
Celestia had even asked Twilight to proofread her replies. When Twilight did, she was taken aback by just how sloppy Celestia’s hoofwriting was. Perhaps, she reasoned, Celestia simply was not used to writing letters for herself—she must have had assistants to do such a thing for her before her imprisonment and no reason to do so during.
“Anyways,” Twilight shook her head, bringing her focus back to Nightmare Moon. “With Celestia resting, I was wondering if you’d like to join me in the dining car instead?”
Silence, for several seconds.
“What.”
Instantly, Twilight regretted the offer she had innocently made.
“What, precisely, do you think we are, Twilight Sparkle?” Nightmare Moon continued. “Me and you. What is your interpretation of our present relationship?”
Nightmare Moon did not seem to be angry. It was instead expressed as a genuine question. Still, Twilight felt as though her own life were somehow on the line depending on the answer she replied with.
Either way, Twilight knew that the word friendship was certainly out of the question.
“Well… uh, I see you as a… a mentor, of sorts—”
Nightmare Moon interrupted before Twilight could even complete her reply. “You’re terrified of me. The only respect you have for me comes from your own fear of displeasing me. So why would you make such an offer?”
“I’m not terrified of you!” Twilight protested, although she lost conviction instantly when Nightmare Moon narrowed her eyes. “Okay, well, I am. But that’s not the only reason I respect you.”
“Then elaborate. Quickly. I’m losing my patience.”
“I just… I don’t know. I really don’t. I can’t explain it, but you’re not the monster I’ve been taught to believe. I’ve always known you as a fairy tale horror, but you’re not like that at all. You’re a mare I… I want to know better.”
Nightmare Moon stared at her with an unreadable frown. “So then, answer me. What do you think we are?”
“I think we’re… starting to become…”
It was one word.
One word that she had to say and it would all be over.
Then again, it might entail her life, too.
Once more, Nightmare Moon interrupted her. “Friends.”
“W-what?”
“You think we’re starting to become friends.”
“N-no! I just—!”
“So you don’t think it’s possible for me to see somepony as a friend.”
“No!” Twilight shrilled again.
“So then you’ve contemplated the possibility of forming a friendship with me.”
“I… I…”
“You what?” Nightmare Moon growled. “Come on, say it! Any day now!”
Twilight swallowed. “I think you’re a good pony even if you think you’re not allowed to be. I’ve been… trying to make you notice that yourself.”
“Do you honestly think I care what anypony thinks I am?!”
“I do,” Twilight said, bracing herself for a sudden assault from Nightmare Moon. “I think you care. You wouldn’t even be questioning me about this if you didn’t. You’d have just told me to go choke to death on my coffee or something.”
“You understand nothing about me.”
“That’s not true. I understand what it’s like to be alone.”
“Bullshit you do,” Nightmare Moon huffed. “You have no clue.”
“Maybe not in the way you think,” Twilight said. “I’m not ignored like you—like Luna was. But I’m laughed at. Ponies talk about me like I’m the punchline to some joke. I see ponies in a restaurant start whispering to each other everytime I enter. You think that makes me feel good?”
“Gods, you’re pathetic,” Nightmare Moon sneered. “You’re laughed at because you deserve to be. I mean, look at you.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Twilight said, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raise with both indignation towards Nightmare Moon, as well as terror at herself for what she had just said.
“Excuse me?!” Nightmare Moon blinked.
“You don’t know what Equestria is like now. You don’t know how… how secular it is. I’m a unicorn who believes that magic is important. I’m hated for it. Do I deserve to be?”
Nightmare Moon did not reply. She did not so much as break her firm frown.
“Nopony deserves to be hated,” Twilight said. “Not me, not you, not Celestia. Nopony. But it’s happening to us.”
“That is completely ludicrous,” Nightmare Moon sneered. “You have no reason to feel inadequate. You have enough magical ability to raise the Moon itself.”
“Yeah,” Twilight said, nodding. “In an era where ponies despise magic itself. Look… I know how it feels to be unwanted, alright? Celestia had the ponies she loved turn against her, so she knows, too. Maybe we don’t know the feeling like you do, but don’t think you’re alone in feeling it at all.”
Nightmare Moon was silent for several seconds.
Then, she hung her head and laughed.
“Goodness,” she said, her cackling laughter ceasing. “What an inspirational speech. What self-help book did you rip that one out of?”
“I’m just trying to—”
“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do.” Nightmare Moon rose a hoof to silence Twilight, smiling widely. “Fine. Whatever. I haven’t sat down for a good drink in a thousand years anyways.”
With a shaky nod, Twilight led the way down the steps leading down from the dome car. They crossed two coach cars sparsely populated by a few sleeping ponies before they finally reached the diner car—quiet and largely unpopulated so late in the evening. They were alone in the car save for an older mare peering out the window of the train and a lone waitress flipping through a magazine.
Both mares perked up when Twilight entered and sat down—the older mare quickly looked back at the passing landscape and the waitress rose to her hooves to approach Twilight, looking slightly irritated, as though her own job were an inconvenience to her. It seemed neither could see the tall black alicorn sitting next to Twilight.
“Get you something?” the pink-coated waitress asked tiredly.
“Yeah, two coffees, please. Can I smoke in here?”
The waitress gave an annoyed ‘humph,’ but nodded. Then, she turned back towards the galley without uttering a word as Twilight fished out her cigarettes and promptly lit one.
The moment the waitress had left, Twilight turned her attention back to Nightmare Moon, only to find the alicorn staring out the window once more. Tracing Nightmare Moon’s eyes, Twilight only saw the rumbling pulses of lightning within the dark clouds, but nonetheless Nightmare Moon seemed fascinated by the landscape all the same.
“What is the exact year, Twilight Sparkle?” Nightmare Moon asked eventually.
“Uh… 1012,” Twilight said, somewhat taken aback. She found it unlikely that Nightmare Moon would not have known such a detail. Then again, it wasn’t as though Nightmare Moon had the luxury of travelling Equestria and finding such information out herself. It seemed she could not venture beyond the limits of Twilight and Celestia’s own magic.
Twilight had opened her mouth with a more elaborate explanation, but she quickly closed it again when the waitress once more approached—holding the two mugs of steaming coffee in her magic and setting them both down on the table before Twilight.
“1012,” Nightmare Moon repeated once the waitress had left. “Did the calendars reset after my banishment?”
“Yeah,” Twilight said, cracking open several packets of sugar into her coffee. “And it’s been twelve years since you… uh…”
“Died?” Nightmare Moon offered.
“Yeah,” Twilight said again. She glanced around, making sure nopony was watching her talking to herself. The only other mare still in the car seemed distracted and uncaring.
“Sorry,” Twilight offered, shaking her head and turning her attention back to Nightmare Moon. “I thought… I thought you knew already.”
“Hrm. Years are just numbers. Such a thing hasn’t concerned me in the past.”
“And it does now?”
“It interests me now.” Nightmare Moon frowned.
Then, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Ugh. Why the hell are you sucking on that burning bit of paper?”
Twilight blushed. “It’s… uh…”
“I know what it is,” Nightmare Moon said impatiently. “I asked why.”
“I dunno. I guess I was a lot stupider when I first started. I’ve been meaning to quit.”
“‘Been meaning to quit’ means you never will,” Nightmare Moon replied. “And you, ‘a lot stupider?’ Could such a mare even speak?”
“Yeah yeah.” Twilight sunk her head in shame. “It was back in grade school. I was trying to ‘fit in.’ Guess what? Ponies don’t really care enough to give you a chance when they’ve already got it in their heads you’re some sort of freak.”
“Aw. What a heawt bweaking stowy,” Nightmare Moon replied. “Stop comparing yourself to me, Twilight Sparkle. I admit it was amusing at first, but now I’m starting to grow annoyed.”
Twilight simply nodded. She wanted to object and drive her earlier point once again, but a larger part of her knew it wasn’t worth getting Nightmare Moon riled up over.
“Earlier, you mentioned Celestia having been recently ‘betrayed by her ponies.’”
“She didn’t tell you?” Twilight blinked. “You… you don’t know?”
“Not beyond what I gathered at the trial,” Nightmare Moon said. “I am missing some details. It isn’t as though Celestia and I get together for tea to discuss life, after all.”
“That might have something to do with the fact that you try to kill Celestia every time you see her.”
“Watch your tongue, Twilight Sparkle,” Nightmare Moon growled. “Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mean I won’t break one of your limbs to prove a point. Now tell me what happened to Celestia.”
After taking a deep breath and a sip from her synthetic-tasting coffee, Twilight did just that. Her explanation was a thorough one, and an amalgamation between what she had seen herself and the horror stories Celestia had told her that she had believed without hesitation to be true. Twilight drew on her own experiences and clashes with Flim Flam Industry and their corrupt government.
The whole while, Nightmare Moon remained stoic.
To Twilight’s surprise, the ever-terrifying alicorn was listening intently, a curious frown on her face.
When she had finished, Nightmare Moon brought a hoof to her snout and let out a long breath through her nose.
“Stupid Celestia,” she sighed. “Goddesses, she has no backbone.”
“I think she’s just sick of spilling blood,” Twilight levelled.
“Well, sometimes, it’s necessary. Were I in her position, I’d already be back in my throne.”
“She was in this position before, twelve years ago,” Twilight pointed out. “And she did spill blood as a solution. You of all ponies should know about that.”
Nightmare Moon looked shocked. Then, she let out a light chuckle. “Touché. You aren’t wrong, for once.”
“And besides… she’s going to be confronting those responsible for her imprisonment soon. With her millionaire socialite nephew, I might add.”
Nightmare Moon cocked her head. “What?”
“Prince Blueblood,” Twilight said. “Celestia’s nephew, or something. Don’t ask how that works. She's getting off at New Canterlot to stay with him. 'Go on ahead to your library', she said to me. Guess she's afraid I'll embarrass myself in front of him.”
“Heh. That must be insulting,” Nightmare Moon said, grinning. “Celestia ignored all of your hard work and abruptly replaced you with her snobby, rich, not-even-biological nephew.”
“It’s kinda been bothering me,” Twilight admitted. “I hope it’s not a trend.”
“Hrm. Well, any thoughts of turning against your mentor? Killing her and taking Equestria for yourself?”
Twilight gave Nightmare Moon an impatient frown, and Nightmare Moon replied with a cackling laugh.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It was a joke. Anyways, I think it’s growing pretty obvious that Celestia needs a bit of help.”
“But… but…”
“I think she deserves to die,” Nightmare Moon answered Twilight’s question before it was spoken. “That hasn’t changed. But if what you told me really is true, then I’m not so cruel as to damn the rest of Equestria to lives of despair for the sake of a profit. I’m a monster, not a bureaucrat.”
iv
“Fucking hell, Auntie,” Blueblood uttered without grace, his eyes widening as Celestia stepped into his ritzy, eighteenth-floor New Canterlot penthouse suite. “You look—”
“Terrible, I know.” Celestia removed her rain-soaked scarf and set her dripping umbrella into a nearby stand, gratefully accepting a towel that one of Blueblood's butlers had offered her. “Believe it or not, 'terrible' has been a popular response to my appearance, as of late.”
“Well damn. Are you sure you’re alright to be doing this?!”
“I appreciate your concern,” Celestia said. “But I am quite alright. I’ve been through worse.”
Blueblood rose an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“It is so nice to see your face, Blueblood,” Celestia whispered, taking a step closer. “You’ve grown into such a handsome young stallion.”
“And here I thought I was aging too fast,” Blueblood replied. “Starting to look like a… like a retired lawyer or something.”
“Nonsense. You look every bit as young as you did last I saw you.”
"Twelve years ago," Blueblood sighed. "I... took it hard, Aunt Celestia. Harder than I thought I would."
"I apologize for that."
Blueblood snorted. "Really, Auntie? Apologizing for being abducted and imprisoned?"
Celestia smiled. "Somepony has to, and we know that Flim Flam Industry won't."
"You're godsdamned right about that," Blueblood laughed, turning and wordlessly leading the way into his penthouse proper. It was hardly a modest affair, considering what Celestia had grown used to seeing Twilight Sparkle living in. A living area boasted a fully stocked bar, a roaring fireplace, and an enormous window that offered a bird's eye view of the city's glimmering lights, the towering mountain, and the distant blinking lights of Old Canterlot farther above. Celestia counted six rooms—all decorated with expensive looking furniture. Outside the tall and wide window was a long aerodock with a goldfish-like airship silently shifting in the high-altitude breeze.
"Fix you a drink?" Blueblood offered, catching Celestia's amazed expression. "I seem to remember you liking your cognac, Auntie."
Celestia chuckled. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."
Blueblood trotted over to the living room bar, pouring two glasses from a bottle that most likely would have cost Twilight Sparkle an entire year of saving just to afford.
Celestia was becoming increasingly thankful that Twilight hadn't asked to come with her to meet Blueblood. She had her doubts Twilight would much approve of Blueblood's critiques of Flim Flam Industry when he himself was leading such an expensive life.
And that was to say nothing of Blueblood's critiques of Twilight. What had he called her? An incompetent anarchist?
Against her better judgement, Celestia vaguely reprised her concerns aloud. "It is a shame Twilight Sparkle could not join me. I'm sure she would love to meet you."
Blueblood snorted. "I still think you're making a mistake with her, Auntie. I get that you're new to this Equestria so you might not know, but she's more or less universally known as a complete loser."
"Blueblood." Celestia frowned. "That is rather rude."
"Well, it's just the way it is. It's public opinion."
"That does not make it correct. Surely you of all ponies should know that."
"Look, Auntie. Facts are facts. I'm just asking you to look at them." Blueblood sipped his cognac. "You're looking to bolster public opinion of you, but you're hanging out with a mare whose own public worth is as low as possible."
"I don't care about her public worth."
"That is noble of you, but it won't change the fact that Equestria DOES see value in her public image. Look, Auntie... I'm just asking you to consider other options for your second in command."
"Such as?"
"Well, not to sound like I'm inviting myself to a job interview, but I myself have been training to rule this country since I was a foal. Much longer than your high-school dropout Crown Minister."
"Oh, Blueblood," Celestia sighed. "Please don't make me have to make this choice. You know how difficult it is for me to balance my loved ones and my nation."
"Just... I'm asking you to consider it," Blueblood replied. "Your reliance on Twilight Sparkle is.... confusing. Please make sure you carefully measure whether or not she is capable. You know you can count on me. Do you honestly know the same for her?"