Chapter 9
Sharing the Night: Chapter 9
✶ ✶ ✶
It was clear from where Twilight stood, high up in her toweresque palace, that Ponyville was changing. Indeed, it had already changed while she’d been busy jaunting across Equestria hunting down myths and legends—trying to put herself together in hopes that it would… what? Keep her sane?
She wasn’t crazy, she told herself as she looked up at the sparkling lights in the sky. Some of her stars spun and coursed around the moon as she held onto it for support. No, she wasn’t crazy, she was just… off balance. That wasn’t the same thing as being unbalanced… right?
For the first time since she’d learned to do so at Celestia’s side, Twilight moved the stars. She didn’t move them one by one this time, however. Instead, it was as if she’d reached up with a hoof to stir them up. It was so unlike her, yet it made her smile. Another impulse took her, and she added some color in the form of a nebula arcing across the sky, something you’d normally need a telescope to see.
Let the Astronomers’ Guild of Equestria have fun with that.
Twilight knew that she shouldn’t antagonize them, but maybe Ponyville wasn’t the only thing that was changing. Besides, they had antagonized her first.
Well, not really. Not at all, honestly, but it irked her to be told she was wrong regardless of whether the message was delivered with unrestrained vehemence or timid mumbling and shuffling of hooves.
Actually, contrary to her irritation, Twilight’s first session of court with Luna had gone well. Thus far, there had been a notable lack of yelling on her part and only a bit of minor cowering from the petitioners.
Instead, she and Luna had greeted wave after wave of affable ponies who were each, to a one, either from Canterlot or trying desperately to seem as if they were. They came not with any gripe or grievance but simply to declare their intent to habitate the now-city of Ponyville and attempt to find any opportunity they could to ingratiate themselves with the crown.
For the most part, this brown-nosing was transparent. Most of the gentry had found some project or arrangement to propose which would be beneficial to everyone present in the room. Occasionally, one such project would even come up that would benefit those outside of it as well.
The Astronomers’ Guild of Equestria, of course, would not be left out—not when the two ruling alicorns of Ponyville commanded the very night they were so keen to study. This was where Twilight had run afoul of them, because they had decided to build a telescope in Ponyville.
It was not just any telescope, of course, but a massive installation. Its intent was to monitor multiple sections of the sky and track celestial objects both at greater speeds and more accurately than had ever been possible—or necessary—before. Given that Twilight had outright told them to come up with such a thing during her last session of court, though, it was hardly surprising.
Or, well, it shouldn’t have been surprising, anyway, but Twilight’s lack of notes from her previous session of court was not relevant to the matter at hoof.
The problem, of course, was the location of Ponyville. Twilight might never have operated quite so large a telescope, but the principles were the same as those of the smaller… and not so much smaller varieties which she had experience with. Really, pretty much anypony should have been able to tell them that such things were built in Canterlot for specific, valid meteorological reasons that did not include being in proximity to a pony wearing a crown, as seemed to be their intent here.
It was little consolation to Twilight that the aforementioned anypony would have been wrong in this case.
As a matter of fact, proximity to a crown-wearing pony was important in the construction of telescopes—or at least it was becoming so. Indeed, two crown-wearing ponies in particular were having a greater effect than either of them knew. With Luna’s return from her thousand-year exile, so had the night followed in her wake.
All across Equestria, nights were darker and stars brighter than they’d been since Luna’s banishment, and nowhere in Equestria was the effect being seen more than in the small city of Ponyville. Without Celestia nearby to balance Twilight and Luna out, the night was encroaching on the city faster than ever.
Goosebumps rose up under Twilight’s coat just thinking about it. City of the Night indeed. Ponyville was changing. She was changing it.
✶ ✶ ✶
Twilight lay her throbbing head against the cold glass that encircled the throne room on all sides. As well as the court had gone, it had still been a long and stressful night, and her head had not appreciated having to deal with it on top of the more constant nocturnal tension which she had already been saddled with. She would have preferred fresh air to the hard glass, but court was—technically—still in session, and while it seemed the she and Luna had finally run dry of petitioners, there was still business to attend to.
“What do you mean ‘the Canterlot Archives aren’t part of my Librararchy?’” she asked with a bit of an angry snarl brought on by weariness and exasperation. “Okay first off, Librararchy isn’t even a word. You can’t just jam words together—a Librararchy would be a system of government where libraries rule.”
“Oh no, your majesty,” the soft-spoken herald insisted. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure if this was the same pony who had informed her of her princessdom or not since they apparently came as a matched set. “It refers to a system of government where you—the archlibrarian—rule. Here, look,” she said, waving over another pony who looked just like her, but was wearing glasses and carrying a tome that looked like it weighed as much as she did.
The tome turned out to be an unabridged lexicographical reference of governmental terms and titles. Twilight sat in petulant silence as the two pegasi opened the book to a pre-marked page and showed her where ‘Librararchy’ and ‘Archlibrarian’ had been penned in next to each other. There were still several grains of sand stuck to the page from the blotting.
Twilight’s eye twitched slightly. “You can’t just—” she had begun to object when she noticed something that made her stop. The librararchy and archlibrarian entries weren’t the only ones that had been penned in by hoof, though they were the most recent. “Wait,” she said, eyes widening. “This isn’t—”
“The master copy, yes, your majesty,” the herald on the left chirped cheerfully, happy to have such an astute archlibrarian. Twilight Sparkle certainly exemplified everything that an archlibrarian should be; one would almost think the title had been made for her.
“The update has already been notarized and pushed to all relevant public and private lexicons within the librararchy as well as those of our allies abroad,” the bespectacled pegasus continued. “Well, ally. It’s just Equestria, really. International alliances, writs of annexation and declarations of war against other institutions have to go through you, your majesty.”
Twilight felt her headache redouble with a throb as she slouched against the glass again, head on one foreleg and motioning the herald to continue with the other. “Hence…”
“The Canterlot Archives, yes,” she said, nodding vigorously. “The Equestrian princess of the moon—”
“She’s sitting right there,” Twilight interrupted, gesturing at a rather amused-looking alicorn on one of two thrones in the center of the room, doing paperwork. “Use her name for Celestia’s sake,” she said then reconsidered her words. “Luna’s sake,” she corrected. “Whatever, do it for my sake if you have to.”
“Um, sorry, your majesty,” the herald said, bowing to Luna in apology before turning back to Twilight. “As I was saying, Princess Luna’s library liberation law only covers existing and future public lending institutions, which the Canterlot Archives and several other notable repositories are not. We of your librarocracy feel this is is a grave oversight by our neighboring nation and would like to see it resolved as peacefully as possible.”
Twilight’s mouth hung open as she processed that information. ‘Librarocracy?’ she mouthed silently, but shook her head and gave up on the nomenclature issue. “What do you mean, ‘as peacefully as possible?’” she asked ominously.
The herald adjusted her glasses and flipped a few pages over on her clipboard to find the numbers she was looking for. “Projections suggest that due to the nature of our budding nation which has us surrounded on all sides by Equestria, combined with our relative lack of a standing military—” she paused for a moment to think then motioned dismissively with her hoof as she continued, “—or any citizenry at all, really, we would be at a significant disadvantage should we enter into a land war for the archives. Similarly, census information suggests that low numbers of pegasi would result in a similar outcome in the sky, and again, every single library is landlocked, so naval combat is right out.”
“The reason we’re not at war with Equestria is because we’d lose?” Twilight stated with a dry sarcasm.
“Well, as I mentioned, they are also our only ally at the moment, which is significant seeing as we are currently heavily reliant on imported food, labor and… everything, really. We’re lucky we already have a green card system in place and good border control, or our immigration and outsourcing issues would be worse than they already are—though on the bright side, we do have an equally strong export economy, so we’re not exactly in trouble for the interim so long as we remain on good terms with our neighboring nations. Nation.”
“So, diplomacy,” Twilight stated.
“Diplomacy,” the heralds both responded with a nod.
Twilight turned to face the throne behind her, put her hooves together and gave the Lunar princess a pleading look from across the room. “Can I have the Canterlot Archives? Pleeeeeease?”
Though Luna tried very hard not to laugh, a short snort escaped her smirking lips. “I think I’ve done enough damage, archlibrarian; you’ll have to ask your mo—I mean, Celestia.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Even after going over the details of the matter, Twilight could still hardly believe that she had been accidentally handed her own nation. Sitting slumped in her throne, the whole thing had a kind of absurd, surreal quality that defied logic, she thought, though she was so inundated with such things that it was getting hard to tell.
What part of her life didn’t seem like some hazy fever dream, these days? To start with, she was a variable multitude of celestial bodies living as a goddess in a tower that had been built especially for her by another such being, whom she admired. Not only that, but there was a whole snow-trampled shantytown on the edge of the town she’d once known just to sate the new crown city’s voracious appetite for stone and crystal. Further, right this second, dozens upon dozens of the richest ponies in Equestria were settling down to sleep in their new Ponyville homes after a long night of trying to win her favor with good will and extravagance. Oh, and her very essence was bleeding into the city in ways that she couldn’t even explain.
It was too much to wrap her head around.
The kicker, though—the real doozy—was that all of these things came back to her. She was the source of this madness—the font of this bedlam. Just by existing, the world was ordering itself around her. Even Luna would not be in Ponyville if not for her.
What was a nation of libraries added to the pile, really?
Was it bad, though? Or, could it be that this was a good sort of madness?
She couldn’t say for certain if any of those things were objectively negative. In fact, while it would have been hard to call Twilight’s previous court experience acceptable, meager or even tolerable, tonight had been… It had been good. The nobility had a bad reputation with the average farm pony, but Twilight could see them bringing real prosperity to the town, even after you cut through their overblown posturing and promises.
But no, that wasn’t it. As noble as that would be, it wasn’t optimism about the prosperity of Ponyville that made Twilight want to accept this fantasy that had become her life. It wasn’t objectivity that held sway in her mind.
It was Luna. Luna made all the difference in the world. Paradoxically, the greatest change of all was what grounded her. That one ephemeral moment which Twilight had been chasing, where she and Luna had thought they understood each other, had finally been realized.
All she had to do was look over at her co-ruler to reassure herself that everything that had changed, everything she wanted—the night, the city, the nobility, all of it—this was it. This was what she had always wanted, and she didn’t have to feel bad or guilty about it ever again. Luna had accepted her as an alicorn of the night, a fellow ruler… and a friend that Twilight could confide in. What else did she have to worry about?
Things were far from perfect in Twilight’s life, but her remaining challenges were somehow… simpler. Equestria wanted to eat her, and she had to not let it do that. Also, staying sane was somewhere on the list.
And she had to rule a couple of nations.
Trifles, really.
It sounded like hyperbole, and maybe it was, but Twilight had never balked at straightforward challenges. Okay, maybe ruling nations wasn’t exactly straightforward… and staying sane was kind of questionable too, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that Luna’s simple presence beside her, shuffling paperwork, had gone from a weight on her shoulders to a rock which she could hold on to.
Just when she was appreciating the soft sound of paper upon paper, however, it stopped.
“Twilight?” Luna said, and Twilight noticed there was a hoof on her shoulder.
“Hrm?” Twilight murmured, blinking herself alert. “Did someone else show up?”
Luna chuckled. “Court is over.”
“Oh thank—um, you. Thank you, Luna,” Twilight said as she got up to stretch the kinks out of her neck. Following the Lunar princess out of the throne room, she looked about, realizing that it was completely empty except for them now.
It was an entire floor of the palace, bordered on all sides by a wall of glass looking out over the city. Two sets of stairs from the floor below curled up around the edge of it and met at a thin path of moonstone which ran directly down the center, ending in a small island opposite the thrones themselves—two subdued shapes of clear crystal which sat on their own such island.
The entire rest of the room was black crystal.
“This room is ridiculous. You know that, right?” Twilight asked. The size of the room and the irregularly faceted crystal worked together to swallow sound and eliminate echoes, giving the room an eerie silence not unlike actually being in the night sky.
Luna looked confused. “It is a throne room,” she said, turning away from Twilight to look at the room herself. “It is supposed to be ridiculous.”
“I suppose,” Twilight said, making her way to the rear of the room where a crystal path led to a set of stairs. “I guess I’m just too used to the marble and gold from Canterlot… which isn’t any better.”
Twilight took a final glance backwards to consider the thrones. They were identical to one another and, though elegant in their simplicity, they did not catch the eye and were not the focus of the room. Instead, the clear crystal they were made of provided only a hint of shape.
Normally one would think that simple, sedate thrones would be non-threatening or even equinizing, but that wasn’t the whole truth. A throne was a symbol of authority which could be intimidating, yes, but it was also a symbol of responsibility, respect and the realm at large.
These thrones did not give an impression of solidarity and community. Without ponies sitting atop them, they were little more than fancy chairs. For good or ill, all focus would be on the individuals who ruled from them.
If this was a fillyhood fantasy, it could easily have been the one where she ruled with an iron hoof and demanded books as tribute.
Now that she thought about it, the idea could be extended to the palace as a whole, really. The black and white tower stood tall in the center of the city, a constant reminder of the changes the city was undergoing. Again, Twilight could see the sense in it—ponies would get used to the building quickly enough, and through it, the idea of the two alicorns who resided inside—but even so, she couldn’t deny that it was all rather daunting to behold.
That was fine, though, she reassured herself. This was her life now.
This was her life as an alicorn goddess of the stars.
This was her life as a princess and archlibrarian of her own nation.
This was her life beside Luna.
“Though,” Twilight began jokingly as she walked up the stairs, leaving the throne room behind. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you designed this place as Nightmare Moon.”
Luna stopped for a moment, looking back over the throne room as Twilight had been doing, before answering.
“I suppose I did.”
“Oh.”
☾ ☾ ☾
Luna followed Twilight up the stairs in awkward silence, watching carefully for the discontinuous trembling that would ripple through her coat from time to time. She didn’t think that Twilight even realized that it was happening and wasn’t sure if she should have been reassured or alarmed of the fact.
She almost couldn't blame Twilight for keeping her secret for as long as she had. Fear was hard enough to talk about with someone you trusted; it had a way of making you feel vulnerable even in the company of your closest friend. Some day, Luna hoped to maybe be that friend, but as things were, she could only imagine the effort it must have taken for Twilight to open up.
Luna would not let that effort go to waste.
An icy wind was the first sign that Twilight and Luna had arrived at their destination.
Were the palace finished, the stairs at the rear of the throne room would have led to the royal apartments, but for now, the only thing above the throne room was empty sky. It was not so good a location to lay back and read a book, but it was the perfect place to get some air, stretch one’s wings and relax after a long night of court.
Sadly, the view was not quite as impressive as it might have been atop the unfinished palace. A framework of steel extended up another hundred hooves from where Twilight and Luna stood, blocking out a good portion of the sky.
Still, Twilight’s relaxation was palpable to Luna as they made their way to the edge of the building.
“Feeling better?” Luna asked. It was a simple question intended to break the ice which might have worked if she she had not immediately segued on without waiting for a response. “I am not angry, you know.”
Having reached the edge of the building, Twilight turned to look at Luna in question, her star-studded mane blowing in the icy night wind.
It was fortunate that the cold didn’t bother them, being what they were. Technically, it didn’t bother Celestia either, but that was different; the princess of the sun simply never got cold to begin with, wheras the alicorns of the night reveled in it. Twilight and Luna belonged to the dark and cold; it was soothing, and it would make what she had to say easier. Luna sat at the edge of the building, and Twilight followed her lead.
Luna took a deep breath and tried to explain. “Your jest about Nightmare Moon,” she clarified. “I am not angry.” It was a difficult subject to broach, but she couldn’t let things go unsaid at this juncture; it could undo everything that the two of them had worked for. “There is nothing to be angry about. There is no Nightmare Moon.”
“Well, not anymore,” Twilight said with a hint of a smirk, surprising Luna. If Twilight could joke about it, then perhaps Luna had earned more of her trust than she had thought. Still, the subject had been broached, and she would have to see it through.
“Nay, there never was,” Luna said, shaking her head. “I… am a different mare now, but that mare was me. ‘Tis why I worry about you.”
“Oh.” Twilight’s smugness wilted a bit, and she rubbed her foreleg with a hoof self-consciously. “I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but it’s just... Equestria. I’m pretty sure I’m sane.”
“Aye, as was I,” Luna said, wistfully looking out over the city where ponies were going about their lives as usual. “Nopony ever thinks they are wrong, let alone evil. It all seemed so… sensible at the time.”
“Calling yourself Nightmare Moon seemed sensible?” Twilight asked, tentatively returning to her joking.
Luna frowned, but not out of offense. In fact, her cheeks colored a bit in embarrassment. “It did,” she said simply, but there was more to it. “It…” she began to say, but trailed off. “If you tell anyone this—especially Celestia—I will deny it, but I did not come up with the name Nightmare Moon on my own.”
Twilight cocked her head, interested. “Someone else called you that?”
“Not as such, no,” Luna said. “It was a story from when I was a filly younger than you.”
“A story?” Twilight asked, a little doubtful. “I’ve never read anything about that,” she said, though she had to correct herself. “I mean, I don’t think I have, but Nightmare Moon was always thought of as an old mares’ tale. You’re saying it was?”
Luna gave a tiny nod. This was not exactly the direction she had expected the conversation to go in, she thought ruefully.
Rather than laugh, though, Twilight looked thoughtful. “What was the story?”
“What?” Luna balked in surprise at the question and paused to think. It had been a long time since she had actually gone over the story as a whole.
“I’ve only ever heard the one version,” Twilight said with a playful smile. “I want to hear it.”
“It was a story of two sisters,” Luna recalled, relenting. “Twins, specifically, were the shepherds of dreams.”
Twilight’s ears perked up at that. “They were alicorns?”
Luna shook her head. “The concept of alicorns did not exist, then. They were considered to be goddesses, but of the opposite sort as we are. Where we share in the traits of all pony races, they were an existence apart from ponykind. It was said that if you were to look upon them even in dreams, you would know them by their alien nature.”
Twilight scrunched up her face, evidently trying to picture such a thing and failing. Shaking her head to clear it, she wondered aloud. “If they were in charge of dreams, I get ‘nightmare,’ but where does the ‘moon’ come from? They weren’t—”
“Aye,” Luna nodded. “They were said to be goddesses of the moon, and the dark side of it was the ‘nightmare moon,’ an ill omen.”
Twilight seemed to consider that for a moment but was unsatisfied. “That really sounds like they were alicorns, and still doesn’t explain why you’d think that taking the name was a good idea.”
“It is a story, Twilight,” Luna clarified. “Like that book of yours. It is not true. It does not say that they were alicorns, therefore they were not.”
“You’re sure?” Twilight asked. “Princess Celestia mentioned that you two never knew the previous generation.”
Shifting uncomfortably in place, Luna looked over at Twilight for a moment then shook her head in concession. “‘Tis true we came into our power as blind as foals. I have no proof that these ponies were not the night before you and I, but for your sake, I hope that is not the case.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow at that. “For my sake?” she asked as she slid herself closer to the Lunar princess.
Luna sighed and put one wing over Twilight to reassure herself of her presence. “I did not choose the name Nightmare Moon on a whim. It was… appropriate. The sisters did not get along and often fought over dreamers. The younger, in charge of nightmares, felt unappreciated. It would be a poor precedent.”
“Ah,” Twilight said, shivering a bit under Luna’s wing, which tightened in response. “I don’t suppose it ended well?”
“They killed each other,” Luna said without preamble. “Tales were darker back then, when Discord walked Equestria.”
“It would explain a lot,” Twilight suggested.
“Nay, not as much as you might think,” Luna responded, shaking her head. “Even if they were real, they were goddesses of the moon, only. The stars were not their domain—and before you ask, no, I’ve never heard of any who would have been. Falsehoods were not considered entertainment back then; they were lessons to be learned, mnemonics containing wisdom.”
Twilight didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Luna’s eyes took on a faraway look as the thought hung in the air between them. Her expression then darkened as she gave a bitter scoff. “Wisdom I ignored.”
“Hey,” Twilight remarked with sudden sharpness, shrugging Luna’s wing off her back so that she could stand and look her in the eye. “Wisdom doesn’t work like that, okay?” she said, putting one hoof on Luna’s shoulder and giving her a stern look. “Books would be a lot shorter if all they had to do is list facts, and ponies would be a lot smarter if all they had to do is read the words, but it’s not that easy.”
Luna raised one eyebrow in question, both at the suddenness of Twilight’s reassurance and the content. “No?” she asked.
Twilight shook her head with a smile, and her voice took on what Luna suspected was her lecturing tone. “Parables take us through a learning experience in hopes that we’ll take the lesson to heart, but they can’t do it if our heart isn’t open. It’s rare that we’re in the right place to do that on our own; more often, that opening is something left by our failures and mistakes.”
“Aye, I know something of mistakes,” Luna groused grumpily. “And being hurt.”
“Yes, you’ve made some pretty big mistakes,” she said, setting her horn next to Luna’s. “Mistakes that have cost you everything. I’ve made some pretty bad ones myself, even before I began playing horseshoes with my soul and got Equestria gnawing at my brain.
“Mistakes are bad and should be avoided. They lay your heart open at the worst possible moment, and that’s scary. Lots of ponies will take advantage of that weakness to hurt you—you might do it yourself, even—but that opening also allows us to fix what went wrong. That’s why we have ponies we trust not to hurt us when it happens.”
Luna closed her eyes and let out a sigh, taking comfort in the closeness of Twilight’s head against hers for a moment. It was true that Luna and Celestia no longer confided in one another. It was only a moment, though, and Luna pulled herself away when she remembered that Twilight Sparkle was not her sister.
“And where did this sudden wisdom come from?” Luna asked, perhaps a little too sharply. She had, after all, just been sitting with a wing over the mare in question; when had that become normal?
Twilight politely coughed as she composed herself. “I’m princess of books; I know something about them,” she declared rather unconvincingly.
Books? Luna did not immediately see the connection. Right, they had been talking about parables and lessons. “You are princess of libraries,” Luna said with a half-hearted sarcastic humor, though that was half a heart more than she’d had a moment ago. “And isn’t your actual title archlibrarian?”
Twilight waved a hoof aside. “It’s complicated,” she said dismissively then continued to explain in spite of it. “Since you signed all libraries over to me personally rather than on behalf of Equestria, you technically gave me my own nation where my title is archlibrarian,” she clarified. “Because I serve Equestria in an official capacity as resident alicorn of Ponyville, though, I’m allowed the use of the Equestrian equivalent of my title when acting in the capacity of that office, which in my case makes me an Equestrian princess.”
Luna found herself rolling her eyes. Politics had never been her strong suit even before they’d gotten complicated, but Luna knew a deflection when she saw one, and the look she gave Twilight said as much.
“Okay, so maybe I’ve also given it some thought tonight,” Twilight admitted more honestly. “A lot of thought. It meant a lot to me to have somepony listen to me, so… thanks. For being a pony who didn’t hurt me, and for being there. I know I haven’t made it easy, but I appreciate it. If you need somepony to talk to, even if it’s just about fillyhood stories, I wouldn’t mind returning the favor.”
Luna paled at the thought of burdening Twilight with her petty insecurities. “You don’t owe me anything; my problems are old and past,” she said, turning back to the cold wind blowing up and over the unfinished building. Ostensibly, Twilight had already been instrumental in every good thing that had happened since her return, more than she knew, if Celestia’s pet theory about Luna’s return was correct.
Twilight shook her head with a smile, sat back down on the ledge and looked up to the mare beside her. “They still hurt. That’s reason enough. I can’t promise to always be insightful, but I can promise to be somepony who won’t hurt you,” she said reassuringly before, all of a sudden, her welcoming demeanor was cut by a frown. “I’ll try, anyway,” she added with sullen distance, clearly remembering the events that had transpired between them now nearly two weeks ago. “That’s… not very comforting, is it? Sorry.”
Luna gave a tired sigh. She liked and appreciated Twilight Sparkle very much, but the younger alicorn did have a problem with being altogether too timid and apologetic at times. It was hardly befitting a princess—nay, the ruler of her own country.
Luna would have to fix that.
✶ ✶ ✶
“You… you threw me off a building!” Twilight sputtered at Luna as the princess of the moon swooped down to the steps in front of the palace.
“You say that as if it is the first time I have done this,” Luna remarked as her final few flaps set her down on the polished moonstone.
Twilight was briefly struck speechless then retorted, “It was kind of lacking the first time too!”
“At least I did not cause an international incident this time,” Luna reasoned while calmly bringing one wing forward to straighten out a feather.
Twilight balked, straightening her posture. “Didn’t you?” she asked rhetorically.
The two of them stared each other down with sour expressions for a brief while until, all at once, Twilight broke into a snicker and Luna burst out laughing.
“The sovereign nation of… of… Does my librararchy even have a name? It had better not end in -topia, I swear.” Shaking her head, she continued. “Whatever it’s called, the librararchy demands reparations!” she shouted with mock-affront and a big grin on her face.
“I really thought you’d fly, you know,” Luna said with a brief glance up the significant distance Twilight had fallen. “I thought you said Rainbow Dash was teaching you.”
Twilight gave a petulant pout. “She taught me,” the younger alicorn said. “Once, to make sure I made it home safely. I haven’t exactly been practicing since.” Twilight scratched the back of her neck with a hoof. “Or getting out at all, really. Not in the flesh. The whole being-a-mass-of-stars thing is pretty convenient.”
“Thou hast been neglecting thy pegasus side?” Luna asked, sounding rather serious.
“I wouldn’t call it neglecting, exactly, but I can’t help it,” Twilight said, trying to excuse the lapse. “There are ponies outside!” she exclaimed while gesturing with one hoof at the… well, there weren’t actually any ponies out and about, actually, it being only an hour or two until midnight. “During the day. There are ponies outside during the day, I mean.”
Luna didn’t seem to notice Twilight’s addendum, her only response being a long and thoughtful “Hmm,” which she made with a hoof crooked under her chin.
“Is that bad?” Twilight asked and gulped. “Is there some sort of alicorn thing where I have to use all three kinds of pony magic, or I’ll be unbalanced and go slowly insane?”
“Aye, ‘tis something like that,” Luna said, nodding gravely.
“Oh dear.” Twilight thought back to everything she’d done since becoming an alicorn; the list was significantly lopsided. “Forget flying; I haven’t grown anything at all—I’m terrible with plants! My earth pony magic must be completely—wait, is it build up or atrophication I should be worried about?”
“Oh, nay, thou needst not worry about thine earth pony magic, Twilight,” Luna said, herself unconcerned. “Gardening is boring.”
“Boring?” Twilight asked, her worry buckling in on itself abruptly. “What does being boring have to do with it?”
✶ ✶ ✶
Twilight’s hooves sank up to their fetlocks in the wispy winter cloud when Twilight landed on it. The landing produced what was not quite a thud but a most solid whump, at the least. She still didn’t quite trust the things to hold her weight even though she’d been sleeping on clouds since moving into the palace.
Her bed-clouds, however, were springy, puffy things like a cross between cotton and marshmallows and were laid out fresh for her daily, while these were thin, thready and prickled under her hooves like fresh toast.
Cold toast.
It was nicer than it sounded though she doubted that even Rainbow Dash would find it suitable for napping. Twilight, on the other hoof, was sorely tempted. Sweat dripped off her brow and dissolved into sparkles of stardust as she gasped for breath.
She didn’t, strictly speaking, need to breathe. She told her body this as she felt her eyes throb in tune with a heartbeat that was similarly optional. She could just let her body go and make a new one right here and now if she desired, but she’d been forbidden from doing so.
So she breathed, and frozen wisps of cloud tickled her nose. She was a pegasus at home in the sky. She was an earth pony with endless endurance. She was a unicorn with magic at her command. She could do this.
She was an alicorn, and it was night.
✶ ✶ ✶
Twilight got a facefull of peytral when she finally caught Luna, but that didn’t stop her from cackling in triumph as the two of them rolled end-over-end off one cloud and down to the thick layer of cloud cover below.
Their game over, the two alicorns of the night lay where they fell, moving only so they could breathe, which they did with relish. Their chests heaved in turn, and the silence in the wake of their laughter was filled only with the sounds of contented exhaustion.
They lay there for a long while, gazing up at their night sky. The nebula which Twilight had painted into being earlier was now a pair of spirals connected by a long, thin strand of color.
“You do this often?” Twilight asked once her body had acknowledged that the hours of abuse in the name of fun—and by extension, sanity—were over and moved on to bathing her in a pleasant haze of endorphins.
“This? No,” Luna said. “Not for a long, long time. When I fly, I fly alone.”
“Oh,” Twilight said simply.
“Even so, it helps me clear my head,” Luna offered in an attempt to forestall any negativity, but the conversation lapsed into silence for a moment in spite of it.
“The story does not do it justice,” Luna finally said after a long pause. “It does not excuse my actions, but when I finally decided that I had had enough, I had been cold and bitter for as long as I could remember.”
“Immortality,” Twilight said. That one word said it all, didn’t it? “Celestia tried to tell me it wasn’t that bad. She kind of failed. You, um, came up.”
“Immortality is what you make of it,” Luna said, surprising Twilight with the ambiguous response.
“You don’t resent it?” Twilight asked.
“You are asking if I wish I had died rather than do what I did?” Luna said. “Nay, I am not so virtuous a pony.”
“Hm,” Twilight murmured. “You know, before I met my friends, there was no question in my mind. This was… exactly what I wanted. I didn’t have anypony but Celestia, really.”
“It no longer appeals to you,” Luna said, clearly trying to sound neutral but failing. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a hint of resignation in the statement.
Twilight couldn’t blame Luna for thinking she was having second thoughts; they’d certainly be justified, in light of everything that had happened to her since. She wasn’t, though. Not really. Not because of Equestria and starbeasts, anyway.
“I really don’t know,” Twilight said. “I feel obligated to resent it. Admitting that my friendship has limits… it doesn’t feel right.” She sighed. “But no, it hasn’t lost its appeal.”
“As somepony who has always been on the outside looking in…” Luna began, clearly not used to voicing such reflections. “I think that friendship is limited,” she suggested. “I think that it is defined by its limits—that it is support and understanding without the bonds of love. It is special because it is given freely, in equal or unequal amounts as we are able, without commitment or formality. It must empower us to go where we will and do as we wish with our lives, or it would not be friendship at all.”
Twilight thought about that. Her experiences so far in life had put friendship on something of a pedestal, but Luna was right. Ponies moved on to new opportunities and new lives every day, and friendships adapted. Some day, her friends would be gone. She would outlive them all, and she would be sad to let them go, but she couldn’t let that fact make her decisions for her.
“This is where I want to be.”
“I’m glad.”
✶ ✶ ✶
“Aww, isn’t that cute,” Fluttershy said. From the sound of it, she was probably gushing over some little animal doing something naïvely foolish.
Rainbow Dash snickered. “Cute, yeah. C’mon, leave ‘em alone. We’ve got work to do.”
☼ ☼ ☼
Canterlot Castle was quiet.
It was, of course, always quiet, but her perception of such things had changed.
On the table in front of her lay a transcript from last night’s Night Court. It had been nerve-wracking getting reports of the two alicorns of Ponyville never being seen together. She had fretted and worried and trusted that Twilight and Luna would work things out, and now, it seemed, they had.
She was looking at them now, in fact, curled up in the clouds above Ponyville in the light of the dawning sun. It brought a smile to her face and a tear to her eye.
It was ironic, really, that with Luna gone, it was now Celestia longing for friendship reports to fill her heart when the enormous halls of Canterlot castle echoed like canyons. For a thousand years, Celestia had walked these halls. She couldn’t pretend that they had all been happy years, but she had persevered for the sake of her sister and her ponies.
She had no such comforts now; there was nopony she needed to be strong for. Her sister was gone again, but not in exile. Twilight, too, would grow from here on out, away from Celestia’s stifling shadow. The two of them, Celestia was sure, would soon be inseparable.
As much as Celestia could be said to have had a plan, it was going perfectly. The two ponies she loved most would be happy. Her part in it was over. All she had to do was stand back and let them grow.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
She wouldn’t.
But she wanted to.
She would just have to be content with letters.
If they came.
✶ ✶ ✶
For once, Twilight did not panic when she realized that she’d gone to sleep in a rather unusual place. The soreness in her muscles reminded her of what she’d done last night, and the princess lying beside her was not unwelcome either.
She was briefly reminded of Rarity’s comment about the two of them sharing sleeping spaces. She would be sorry when the royal apartments proper were finished. The moon was nice enough to cuddle at night, but more than ever, she was going to bed after dawn these days. She would miss waking up next to somepony.
Twilight stared and blinked into the clear blue sky above her. Maybe Rarity had a point, she thought. Self-consciously, she removed her foreleg from its position underneath the Lunar princess and used it to prop herself up into a sitting position. Celestial metaphysics aside, anypony who saw Luna and her together would probably get the wrong idea.
Thankfully, with the thick winter cloud cover, it was doubtful anypony had actually noticed the two princesses of the night in the great sea of white. Sure, they were both dark in color, but—
Hm. Twilight paused for a moment as her mental reassurance hit a small snag.
Lunar princess sleeping beside her? Check.
The two of them currently lying on a cloud? Check.
The entire remainder of the cloud cover that had been present last night?
Not-check.
Casually, a rose-pink pegasus with a blonde mane wearing a brown vest flew by, carrying some flowers and singing quietly to herself. “Winter wrap-up, winter wrap-up!”
Twilight’s head slowly tracked the pegasus as she flew by, simultaneously processing three different revelations.
One, that mare could not sing to save her life.
Two, every pegasus in town had probably seen her curled up with Luna.
Three, she was over six hours late for winter wrap-up!
Twilight tried to calm herself. Lists. She was doing well with lists so far; she just needed one for how she was going to get back on schedule.
“Okay, item one,” she began, only for silence to follow. Her head must still be a bit muddled from sleep, she reasoned. “Item one… coffee?” she wondered aloud. “No! There’s no time for that!”
“Think, Twilight, think,” she chided herself. “It’s winter wrap up, and you can’t have winter wrap-up without… vests! Item one, go back to the palace and secure your vest—or is that two items?”
She pondered that for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully before she realized she was wasting time. “Whatever! Figure it out on the way!” she shouted, leaping off the cloud.
Awoken by Twilight’s shouting, Luna peeked over the edge of the cloud just in time to see the archlibrarian in question spread her wings, veer off to the side and crash into a chimney.
“Separate list, item one, either learn proper wing-care some time, or remember to make new wings when you have bed-feather,” she said before disappearing in a flash of teleportation.
☾ ☾ ☾
“What in Equestria…?” Luna wondered aloud as she watched Twilight disappear. A glance at the activity around her made the situation clear, however.
“Oh bother,” she remarked.
By the time Luna had followed Twilight back to the Palace, their chambers were a mess of scattered items from Twilight’s old library tree. “Where is it, where is it?” Twilight repeated under her breath as she dug through her things. “Where did it go? Where did they put it when they—a ha!”
Twilight finally pulled the multicolored vest from her old oak wardrobe, which seemed to have been placed inside a much larger, fancier white armoire. Wasting no time, her horn lit up, and she teleported the vest onto herself.
“Item one, secure winter wrap-up vest,” Twilight said, thrusting one forehoof in the air and giving a wheezy-sounding, “check!”
A moment passed with her in that position before the revered archlibrarian’s eyes rolled up in their sockets and she fell to her knees, tipping over onto the crystal-coated floor with barely a sound.
Luna poked the still form of her co-ruler with a hoof, but there was no response. Upon investigation, it appeared that the vest in question was both several sizes too small and lacking any alterations such as might be made to a garment in order to accommodate wings. Fortunately, it took a pony a good three to six minutes to actually die from asphyxiation.
By the time Twilight’s body had begun to dissolve back into stardust, Luna had returned with a tea set, which she set down on the floor next to it. After seating herself, she poured two cups and watched as the vest burned away from contact with the glowing points of light.
With the vest reduced to ashes, Twilight’s hazy, half-stellar form seemed to snap back into focus, and she took a great, long gasp of air.
Blinking her eyes clear, her face brightened. “Is that east-Zebran white tea?” she asked in a chipper tone. “No, wait, there’s no time for that! Now where’d that vest go?” she asked, patting her barrel down as she realized that she was no longer wearing it.
In the middle of taking a sip from her cup, Luna pointed silently at the multicolored scraps that were still consuming themselves amongst the ashes on the floor.
“Ah,” Twilight said, a little deflated. “No matter, I still have a job to do!” Twilight disappeared in another flash of teleportation before Luna had even lowered her cup.
Impassive, Luna got to her hooves, levitated the tea set once more and followed on hoof. She didn’t have to go far, since the de facto staging area for town events didn’t seem to have changed with the advent of the new palace right on top of it.
Luna placed the tea set down once more, this time on the top landing of the moonstone steps in front of the palace where Twilight had acquired a clipboard and was attempting to find out what needed fixing.
Not much, according to Rainbow Dash.
“Um, Princess—I mean, Twilight—we’re fine! Everything is fine!” Rainbow Dash said a little too loudly for casual speech.
Twilight flattened her ears a bit at being called ‘princess’ by Rainbow Dash of all ponies, but she recovered quickly, presuming it to be a joke. “Oh, ha-ha, very funny,” she said sarcastically. “But seriously, can you just tell me what I need to know?”
Rainbow Dash glanced around then bent closer. “C’mon Twilight, give me a break, here,” Rainbow Dash whispered. “Nopony wants me telling the princesses they screwed up!”
The corner’s of Twilight’s mouth dropped slightly. “But… how am I supposed to organize everything if I don’t know what needs organizing?”
“Look, it really is fine. Spike’s been helping, and he’s doing a really great job, so relax! There’ve been a few minor hiccups, but we’ll be on time.”
“Spike?” Twilight asked, crestfallen.
“Yeah, kid’s like a regular, um, you know, you,” Rainbow Dash said, awkwardly glancing off to the side. “A-anyway, I’ve gotta go take care of this… this thing. Completely planned, nothing to worry about, but kind of urgent, so… bye!”
“They replaced me with Spike?” she repeated in disbelief.
Luna sat down beside Twilight and levitated her a cup of tea. Twilight accepted it automatically this time and took a sip. She stared into the cup for a moment then looked over at the pony who had brought it to her.
Luna put a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder to comfort her and looked out into the city where ponies were running this way and that, some looking a little more frazzled than others, but all with purpose. In the distance, a pair of Twilight’s heralds could be seen with a small purple and green figure who was gesturing in exasperation at a sheepish-looking gray pegasus.
The Lunar princess didn’t say anything; she was there, and that was enough.
Twilight sighed and sat down next to her, tea in hoof.
“Really? Spike?”
✶ ✶ ✶
“It galls you,” Luna was saying, “to have your help rejected.” She and Twilight had moved back to the singular cloud in the sky where they’d awoken earlier in order to watch winter get wrapped up. The cloud in question had been left alone, as if their having slept on it had somehow made it sacrosanct.
“I suppose you would know, huh?” Twilight said, despondent as she watched an earth pony helping Fluttershy wake the animals.
“Actually, no,” Luna said, to Twilight’s surprise. “I would have looked at this and been heartened.”
“Oh,” Twilight said, feeling worse. “I guess I must seem pretty spoiled, then.”
Luna smiled. “Perchance, a bit,” she teased. “But ‘tis not the root of it.”
“No?” Twilight asked.
“Hrm,” Luna said, looking over the city. “Tell me, Twilight, what do you see?”
Twilight humored Luna, looking around. “Ponies wrapping up winter without me?” she suggested. Okay, maybe it did sound a little whiny.
“You see yourself as uninvolved,” Luna deduced.
“I’m just sitting here on this cloud, so…” Twilight looked around at all of the busy ponies. “Yeah, that’s sort of the definition of uninvolved.”
“Yet, is there a single pony unaware of your presence?” Luna asked, gesturing with one hoof at those around them. “One pony who does not glance at us in the corner of their eye as they hurry on?”
“Well—” Twilight began.
“Not the mailmare,” Luna clarified. “I’ll tell you; there is not. You are not so detached from events as you think; they may not be doing it with you, but they are doing it for you.”
“That’s terrible! I can’t take credit for that—it’s egotism at the worst!” Twilight balked. “That’s exactly what’s wrong with the worst of the nobility.”
“True, yet not,” Luna said. “Tell me, do you have a similar opinion on so-called ‘fine’ art?”
Twilight’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“I was appalled,” Luna said, “when I was asked to the Canterlot Museum of ‘Fine’ Art to see an exhibit which included blank canvases and what I thought must have been spoiled dropcloths used to cover the real artwork, and I said as much.”
“I… may have had similar experiences,” Twilight said. Art was one area of study which didn’t exactly come naturally to her.
“Aye, but you probably did not say as much to the curator,” Luna said, then added, “in public. Using the Royal Canterlot Voice.”
“Er, no,” Twilight admitted, paling.
Luna simply nodded and continued. “The curator attempted to placate me with apologies, but as luck would have it, one of the artists whose work was on display chose to speak up in defense of it. He asked me, ‘Princess, what is art?’”
“This shocked me. Incredulous, I walked over and chose a finely crafted bust of a beautiful mare, and I said, ‘This. This is art.’”
“The stallion observed my choice and nodded in approval. ‘Indeed, this is a fine piece,’ he said, ‘but what makes it art? Is it the way the tilt of the head gives it a feel of austerity, or is it the choice of blue jade for the stone, which contributes a cold, yet conflicted mood to the piece? Perhaps, it is the fine craftsmanship of the eyes, so full of longing. Your majesty, I propose that it is all of these things.
“I nodded, wary for I could not see where he was going with his reasoning, much as you are doing now.
“But,’ he said, ‘not all who would sculpt can afford blue jade. ‘Pray tell, then, would it be less a work of art if the piece was plain plaster? Surely not; the value of a work cannot be reduced to the cost of its production.’
“Barely waiting for my acknowledgement, he continued, launching into an impassioned spiel. ‘‘The purpose of art, I believe, is to speak for us. It is a medium of communication through which everything we put into our art can be passed along. From the way we hold the brush or chisel to the choice of paint and subject, all of it contributes a different meaning, each of which may be interpreted differently by the viewer.’
“I rolled my eyes at the navel-gazing quality of his speech, but admitted that everything he said made a certain logical sense.
“‘Then,’ he said, finally getting to the point. ‘If this is so, which aspects of art are truly required? If I can communicate the same austerity as this fine bust, using only the tools of color and shape and without resorting to reproduction of the equine form, is that not still art?’
“I frowned, finally seeing his point and none too happy about it. ‘That may be, but you cannot tell me, that this is such a work,’ I said, pointing at the blank canvas.
“‘Ah,’ he said, smiling. ‘But you see, Princess, I can—for there is no language, no form of communication in our great wide world which cannot be used to lie.’”
Twilight blinked, staring at Luna, who had been using hoof gestures to recount her tale.
“It is as you say,” Luna said, glancing up at Canterlot, unaware of Twilight’s awkward stare. “The worst nobleponies are egotists to a one; they are charlatans of authority and fabricators of command; they do not truly lead any more than one makes art with a blank canvas. One leads not to take credit for the deeds of others, but to inspire ponies to do better, to be better, and that is what I speak of, and that is what only you can do.”
“That’s all I want to do—lead them,” Twilight said. “I’m good at it.”
“Nay, you wish to manage them. Your motive is pure, but ‘tis a different thing. Leadership is no single activity; it is neither the words you speak nor the actions you take but the sum of both. It is a state of being which, as a ruler and an alicorn, you need neither chase, nor can you escape. Your job, such as it is, is to exist, and to do so in a way that the lives of those around you are better for it.”
“Didn’t you have to?” Twilight asked. “Chase it, I mean.”
Luna shook her head. “No, that was part of the problem. Even at my worst, I was still a diarch of Equestria. As my resentment grew, I changed, and the way I acted, the things I did, were picked up by those I led. Over generations, the very character of the nation was altered, ultimately making matters worse for me in the end. The resentment I sowed came back to haunt me; I was avoided, shunned and eventually outright feared.”
“The dark ages,” Twilight said.
Luna nodded. “Twilight, simply by existing, you will change the face of Equestria.”
Twilight recalled the thoughts she’d had exactly on those lines from last night. “I’d noticed,” she said.
“But you have not accepted responsibility for it,” Luna chided. “You must take pride in the happiness of the ponies you lead and be worthy of their reverence. I promise you, it is better than the alternative.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Pride, it seemed, did not come naturally to Twilight Sparkle, nor did trust. Every time there was a problem or some commotion with the wrap-up, she found herself half-risen with a hoof on her shoulder to stop her.
Once, Luna’s hoof had not been fast enough, and Twilight had gotten halfway down to one particularly vocal exchange over irrigation before the sheer number of watching eyes had managed to give her pause.
“Is this really helping?” she asked Luna as the two of them walked through the city, looking for a place to eat. Half of the ponies they came across still bowed as they passed, and the other half had their hooves too full to do so.
“I mean, ‘taking pride in my ponies’ is one thing,” she said, wearily making air-quotes with her wings, “but it doesn’t really help the fact that I can’t go out for some hay fries without causing a scene. I’ll bet you ten bits that they offer me something more ‘refined.’”
“They shall,” Luna agreed with a particularly sharp bitterness that surprised Twilight. “And when you insist, they shall still fry thy hay in the finest of flavored oils and refuse thy coin for the abomination they create.”
“Luna?” Twilight asked, wondering if something was wrong.
“Yes?” Luna simply responded.
Twilight just looked at Luna for a moment. She must have been mistaken. “No, nevermind.”
Suddenly, Luna seemed to have divined the meaning behind Twilight’s inquiry. “I have been proselytizing too much today, I think,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, this time her turn to be confused.
“I am not perfect, Twilight, nor is my advice,” Luna explained. “These things vex me the same as you, and I do not have all of the answers; I can only propose—as I have—that exposure will breed familiarity, but even this advice comes ultimately from Celestia.”
“Celestia…” Twilight repeated absently. It had been a while since Twilight’s mentor’s name had come up, and longer since she’d seen her.
“If leadership is an art,” Luna said, waxing poetic again, “she is the artist.”
Twilight thought about that for a moment then shook her head. “Sorry,” she said.
“You apologize too much,” Luna groaned.
“I just mean… you’re right,” Twilight said shaking her head in reflection. “It’s easy for me to be the student and treat you like Celestia, but you’re not her. I’m sorry if it sounded like I expected a lesson from you.”
“No, I am not her,” Luna confirmed glumly. “Perhaps she would be better suited to teach you about being a princess and and alicorn. ‘Twas the reason given for my coming here, but the real intent was to see our friendship mended. I dare say… the need has passed?”
“No,” Twilight said. “I mean, yes, it has—but no, I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not?” Luna asked.
“Well, for one, I already know what she’d say,” Twilight said. “I know that ponies will get used to me. It’s just frustrating.”
“Aye,” Luna agreed.
Twilight narrowed her eyes as she thought about Luna’s statement that her reason for coming to Ponyville had been completed. “You’re not going back to Canterlot, right?” Twilight asked. “I mean—you can’t! Not with everything that—”
“Nay, Twilight, I am not,” Luna interrupted before Twilight could get too far in her fantasy of abandonment. “As you say, I have gotten involved here as I never did in Canterlot. I am not sad to observe Celestia’s city from afar, nor would I wish to leave you alone as you are.”
“You worry too much,” Twilight grumbled.
Luna raised an eyebrow at that, as if to say ‘Really?’
“…Yeah I can’t believe I said that either,” Twilight admitted, “but still, I’m not some kind of unstable concoction that could go exothermic at any moment.”
“I keep telling you that that is not how it works, Twilight,” Luna said, stopping to put a hoof on her shoulder. “It is stress, isolation and depression. You need not be offended. All I am saying is that you could use a friend in this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw somepony look up from their work and scurry away.
“Yeah, I suppose I could,” she said, reaching over to touch the hoof that was on her shoulder.
✶ ✶ ✶
“There you are!” Rainbow Dash shouted from above just as Twilight’s hoof was about to touch the café door. “Why aren’t you guys on the Royal Observation Cloud? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Twilight and Luna turned to look at each other in sync then at the café they were standing in front of.
“Yeah, whatever, you can feed your faces later,” Rainbow Dash insisted. “I need you two on the edge of town like, ten minutes ago!”
“What is it, Dash?” Twilight asked, almost as curious as she was worried. “What’s going on?”
“You know that thing where we don’t use unicorn magic to wrap up winter?” she said rhetorically.
“It’s come up before,” Twilight responded, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, well,” Rainbow Dash glanced over her shoulder, “we’re making an exception.”
✶ ✶ ✶
It was night over the Everfree.
This was—strictly speaking—something of a problem, seeing as it was not night anywhere else.
“According to local sources,” one of Twilight’s heralds was saying, “the castle of the royal pony sisters disappeared close to two weeks ago, leaving only barren rock behind.”
Twilight coughed, avoiding eye contact with anypony.
“Three days later,” the herald continued, flipping to the next page on her clipboard, “an unidentified celestial disturbance was reported, coinciding with the formation of this sinkhole.”
Luna pawed at the relocated Royal Observation Cloud with one hoof, looking sheepish.
“We suspect both events of being connected to this phenomenon.”
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Updaaaaaaaaaaaaate!
Thank you.
EDIT: Amazing chapter as always, still love the story. Keep on writing this jewel!
Celestia's just going to end up being brushed aside and forgotten all alone in Canterlot while everyone gushes over Luna and Twilight, right? Bravo Twilight, one new alicorn comes along and the instant she does you drop the old one (aka the pony who's loved you like almost a daughter and taught and helped you for years) like a pair of worn shoes. Why use those when you have shiny new Luna-coloured slippers instead, right? Even the nobles have realized Celestia's old news, emigrate to Ponyville everypony, the new capital of Equestria, where the real Princesses rule. Celestia? Who's that? Let her rot in her crummy old Canterlot, we've got alicorns of the night now!
And of course Celestia's just going to be all serene and smiling and let them do it, wanting nothing but happiness for her sister and student, because she's nice like that. Of course she is, it's her character to put the needs of others before her own. The cruelty of the situation, however, is that everypony, even those she holds dear, have forgotten that she does have her own needs. But hey, night alicorns now, what more does Equestria need?!
So many great stories updating just to end on cliffhangers, hahaha.
its alive... finally!!!
HAH! Sheepish alicorns. FINALLY IT UPDATED.
3556170
Cliffhangers actually do serve a purpose beyond getting people to want to continue reading. As in anything that takes place over time, the parts of a sentence that have the most impact are the beginning and the end. The same can be said of chapters, so it's only natural to place the bits with the most impact at the end.
I ALMOST ended the chapter at "This is where I want to be."
I very seriously considered ending the story there and firing up a sequel for the rest
(Creative theory really interests me—can you tell?)
3556195
Its a great point to end, don't get me wrong. You've wrapped up a good bit of situation, and with a perfect spot of something has occurred from before now has a longer than expected bit of consequence.
And yes, you easily could. When you think about it, the major points of what you have done and intended has been completed. You could start from there, a new point, and it would be natural. Though I think there is more wisdom in keeping it to one story, because there is a slight disconnect in part with a new story, even if it is connected.
That unconscious aspect of time that perception places to a 'new' story even if it is not, and what you could say to that.
Dear Princess Celestia;
Luna and I may have unintentionally created eternal night.
Help.
Signed by the Princesses of the Night;
Princess Luna of the Moon and Princess Twilight of the Stars.
That was a nice chapter, even if I feel like half the speech(es) Luna gave wouldn't feel out of place in Symphony Of The Night. Also couple of quick notes I saw;
-Twilight and Luna moving towards Friendship (maybe/probably more based off tags)
-I'm about 99% sure Celestia set them up in every way possible, because that's how she rolls in every fanfic ever
-Luna jokingly ( I assume) mentioned Twilights mother as Celestia, and now I'm super hoping for an divine eugenics lesson soon
3556270
If Luna's speeches came off as awkward... then I have succeeded
And don't worry, the hows and whys of alicornhood will be revealed before everything is said and done. It's harder than one might think stringing exposition together with character interaction, sometimes!
Soon, though. Soon.
Wonderful chapter -- poor Celestia. All hail the Archlibrarian. And nebulae for all.
3556195
Naw, this shouldn't be split. Sharing the Night is special and should remain whole. If split the parts would be less than the whole.
Yippee!
3556225>>3556320
The story is, indeed, more than just the one shipping plotline and even that will continue to be continuously relevant as things go on.
On ending Sharing the Night there... Well, obviously I agree, since I didn't do it
3556340
I can say, it does not remotely feel like you have remotely shipped either, despite the nature of this pairing. And that is real praise, you've given them both a very true feeling to themselves, but also working in what they find as their axis of operandi. So really, write on with cheer, for this story is fun and enjoyable.
That cliffhanger:
Oopsie
Poor Tia she's lonely.
please make her feel better in the next chapter.
Great chapter thanks for the update.
...Huh...
3556292 Maybe awkward is the wrong word, I'd have used long winded and slightly pretentious, either way she should hire a speech writer.
Also, not noticing a denial about Celestia being a manipulative pity partier .
art.ngfiles.com/images/146/daagah_hull-yuss.jpg
Awesome update is Awesome.
So, I guess she's an archlibrararch now?
IT LIVES!!!! just when i pronounced it dead it pops back to life! love the update, keep em comin.
This would be absolutely amazing if I weren't dreading the Nightmare!Twilight overtones I've been getting the last couple chapters...
There won't be any Nightmare!Twilight will there?
3501349
*reloads pistol*
JOSH
USE ALL OF DEM BULLETS BEFORE YOU RELOAD IT
I love this story, but it feels like Twilight's taking it all lying down, so to speak. For example, I would have liked to see her order fries, get the predicted abomination of a dish, and then just reorder unti they either get it right or run out of fries. She resents being treated differently? Just don't go with it. Screw the rules, you're a mother ducking princess.
In other news, they seem to have oopsed the entire Everfree now
"MANIPULATION
GOD I LOVE MANIPULATION
DEAR ARCHLIBRARIAN TWILIGHT
I'M SO ALONE"
I would take the time and effort to actually make an image but
>time and effort
This is by far my favorite alicorn Twilight story. I hope we see more updates sooner rather than later but I'm glad you take your time and do the story proper. I don't Ive laughed at any other story as I did with the archlibrarian sequence!
This chapter flowed a lot better than the last one. It felt like more happened, even though last chapter had a fight with a horrible star beast (mostly because said fight was skipped over far too fast, last chapter really could have used one or two more scenes covering Twilight running around hunting them, as often as it gets brought up when she's not doing it).
I wouldn't mind if Twlight goes insane, but it would be nice if Equestria really is trying to eat her. Chapter ended pretty abruptly IMO but other than that it was amazing!
This chapter was... so boring. I had to skim half of it to keep reading. Alicorns are the whiniest creatures and, really, if familiatity breeds acceptance, than Twi could easily regain her informal status in her own city after some time. And Twi has always had a light touch in managing others, respecting their abilities and directing them as needed rather than peering over their whithers judging them. And she has always been an inspiring leader, not based on who she is but simply her eager goodness and confident derring do.
Awesome!
I have to ask: how much fun is to type 'Archlibrarian' ?
Really don't want to see twilight go insane or nuts personally, and also, can't wait to hear Twilight give the explanation about the missing castle.
In the end great chapter, can't wait for the next!
Resistance is futile, Twilight. Your nation shall be named Bibliotopia.
3556444
I didn't mean the kind of nervous awkwardness that's rampant in the story, more like what you said—odd in its stilted pretentiousness
3556627>>3556185>>3556189
Psh, it's only been two months since the last chapter.
3556812
Well, she has been, as she says, off balance. The fact that she's actually showing frustration now instead of just wanting to avoid matters is a good sign that she might be recovering in that regard, we'll see.
3556896
Hrm, I can see your point with the number of times it gets mentioned. My idea was that they weren't very interesting fights, and she's just been cheating so far what with the whole sky behind her, but that's sort of irrelevant compared to maintaining a proper ratio of words to important events.
3557085
I'm sorry you had to skim and I hope you at least caught the amusing bits and had a laugh or two.
I actually expected a lot more comments like this. This chapter fought me tooth and nail, with sections getting revised several times
3557117
I've always liked my own writing more than is proper, with a special focus on the absurdity of life, so... it's pretty awesome
3557168
Oh it was still an ok part of an ok story. Just feel like a lot of it could have been summarized or if the non-dialogue non-scene setting sections were mostly cut the flow and tempo would be improved.
3557288
This is the harshest criticism I have ever recieved
...actually it kind of almost is
3557333
It's... nice...
i.imgur.com/93d6AQi.gif
...
iambrony.steeph.tp-radio.de/mlp/gif/fluttershy_by_mezkalito4p-d4haxch.gif
That last part: oops.
So that's how you're handling the, "and she will bring about nighttime eternal" part of the prophesy. Well, it never said that it would be perma-night everywhere, just that it would not end.
3557133
Okay. This made me snort. You beautiful, horrible creature.
Ya know, I was reading this chapter, loving the update
And then I thought, "Celestia must be really lonely now"
Immediately after, a Lonely Celestia scene pops up, imagine that. Guess I read too much of this stuff
3556246 ha i can see that happening.
Twilight Sparkle, the Archlibrarian of Equestria? Excellent. Wow, and it's an actual separate nation? Huh.
Pffffttt, you give an egghead all of the libraries in the country, and she just wants more.
Dang, poor Celestia.
Ouch, Twilight. That's cold.
So, Eternal Night over the Everfree Sinkhole? That seems bad.
Whatever happened with Rarity buying up all that property. I seem to remember that briefly being a thing. On the whole I enjoyed, and got a good number of laughs out of this chapter.
3558020
Nothing is ever forgotten
Except for the things I actually forget...
w00t! I am so reading this when I get the chance!
3557722
"The Everfree sinkhole." I like that far more than I should.
Thanks to the internet, people who do not have thanksgiving reap the benefits without all the holiday hassle.
So I'm giving thanks for this new chapter, dear author. Best diplomacy scene ever.
Also, please don't leave Celestia alone. She deserves a nice mare of her own to keep her company.
Yesssss new chapter!
Thanks Casty! This was a great one!