For Your Own Benefit
Princess Celestia
To ponies today, I am the bastion of harmony: the bringer of light and peace, the one good, great Princess Celestia. Countless generations have praised me and poured my name into song and prayer – and I have grown used to it.
But once upon a time, my little ponies did not see me this way. There was a time when I did not deserve the praise, a time of which I am most ashamed: one that I've buried under a thousand years' worth of lies. When I was little, Star Swirl the Bearded once told me that one's character is determined not by meticulously planned actions, but by those taken hastily in times of crisis.
I have learned, by now, the chess game of fate; I learned because I had to. I would not be alive if I did not know how to bend the lives and futures of mortal ponies. When you have the opportunity to see the ramifications of your actions across the centuries, when you start to behold the intertwining streams of myriad little destinies, only then do you realise the power of even one solitary sentence.
I have witnessed the rise of bloodlines with the birth of first sons and seen them perish with the death of the last, and nopony ever knew that it had been the subtle touch of my hoof that guided and twisted their paths. I know that fate had bestowed upon me this life so I could toil for the good of all of us – and the good of all who would come in the millennia ahead.
There was a time long ago when I was careless, and I paid the price with that which I held most dear. I lost Equestria's innocence, and with it, my own.
I have only seen one monster in my life, and her name was Nightmare Moon.
The heart of Princess Luna, my dear sister, had long been consumed by the Nightmare. She fought bravely, valiantly – but Nightmare Moon was not a foe she could defeat alone. When she called out to me in desperation, I dismissed her concerns, unable to recognise what was at stake. A humbling lesson in the nature of pride.
The Longest Night is a testament to my failure as a sister when Luna needed me the most.
For two weeks, Nightmare Moon laid waste to Equestria. Born of hate and mired in jealousy, she cared for nothing but to bring about the death of her world. Corpses and ash followed in her wake.
For two weeks, I stood by and watched. I denied what I saw with my very eyes; I refused to admit that my sweet sister would turn away from me. For two weeks I pleaded, I begged, I grovelled, and I threatened – and when she spat in my face, I watched.
When I could watch no longer, the Elements of Harmony put an end to the turmoil in a flash of light.
As my little ponies mourned for the lost, they cursed the heavens, and with them, they cursed my dear sister. Yet there was nothing and nopony they cursed as they cursed me. After Nightmare Moon, my magical powers turned from an inspiration into a clear and present threat to all that lived. After the Longest Night, I had proven myself incapable of rule.
For years, the only time anypony looked me in the eye was to hurl abuse and contempt. Gone were the smiles, gone were the praise and the songs and the prayers. My little ponies changed – and I changed in kind. The guilt became too heavy to bear. I broke under its weight.
I became ruthless, harsh, even cruel: a mirror to reflect the world in the Longest Night's wake. I made a promise to myself and to the Mare in the Moon: I would drag Equestria by the mane from the ashes of the Longest Night, and I would do it if she kicked and screamed in protest.
The decades that followed the Longest Night were the hardest, for all of Equestria, and for me. I walked on the razor's edge; one slip and I might have become a nightmare worse than my sister. In my darkest days, it was the story of two little ponies that would help me see the light.
It was, perhaps, because of Swift Sweep – and a young mare named New Page – that I did not become a monster myself.
New Page
I've always been a night pony.
The half-built spire of the Palace loomed above the city, its long shadow splitting the light of the Moon overhead. The spire stood dressed in a suit of scaffolding and rickety walkways: bustling with workers and booming with the sounds of construction during the day, and an abandoned maze of metal bars and wooden boards at night. A hundred and more little nooks and crannies for the sly visitor.
High in the tower, a Royal Guard perched atop a pillar that yet supported no ceiling. From his teeth hung a heavy lantern aglow with burning oil, and his eyes glistened in the light as they scanned the streets below. When his head turned my way, I hid in the shadows of a great stone window frame.
This wasn't the first time I've been here when I shouldn't have, and I did not expect it to be the last. I readied myself for a swift flight upwards, waiting for the moment the guard turned the other way.
An explosion roared across Canterlot, giving me a jump. The scaffolds all around me resonated with the blast, and all the different sections of it pattered and clattered against one another.
After a moment of fright, I managed to collect myself. Above, the Royal Guard stood on three legs, one raised in suspense and head stuck forwards, ears turned towards a distant street. Amidst the quiet mansions lining the mountainside whose windows bore no light, one building stood lit by the unmistakable lights of dancing flames.
Another Royal Guard whisked past the Moon, banking for the burning home in the distance. A second later, the sky came alive as a swarm of guards rose from the walls of the Palace and the alleyways of the city, each descending on the same point far away.
The guard on the perch spread his wings, and with a jump and a flap, he was off too. Although I had no clue what caused the blast – and hoped that nopony was hurt – I thanked the powers that be for the timing. Not many guards remained at their posts near the spire, and even they had their attention directed towards the action in the distance.
Lifting a hoof, I looked into the bauble bracelet around my fetlock. A dark, dim image of myself reflected back, giving me a reassuring look. The bracelet had been a gift and a good luck charm from my mother when I was little.
Well, Mama, it's time to see if it still works.
After adjusting my saddlebag for a tighter fit, I too unfurled my wings and jumped. I kept close to the spire as I approached the top, staying inside the labyrinth of scaffolds and suspensions. I never liked to stay in the air for long; instead I made fast swoops from board to board, pausing at each stop to look for spying eyes.
As I came around the spire in a glide, I saw a guard turn his head my way. With one powerful flap on my wings, I forced myself to stop and twisted my path the other way to quickly disappear behind the wall.
My heart began to race as I heard the wings of the guard behind me. I took a sharp left then broke into a quick dive to grab onto the underside of the scaffold a level below.
From there I watched as the guard flew high, squinting his eyes and craning his neck this way and that.
With a final shrug, he turned around and returned to his post.
I let go of the scaffold and shot straight up, spending less than a second in plain sight before flying through a window on the spire's highest floor.
There would yet be several more levels to this tower before it was finished. For now, the only ceiling this floor had was a crude blanket of plain cloth held up by iron bars to protect the unplastered walls from unscheduled rain or heavy wind. Tonight, this room would be my point of entry. All that stood between me and the stairwell was a simple wooden door and a rusty iron lock – to be replaced, doubtlessly, once they began furnishing the insides of the spire.
As I took a few steps back, readying to ram the door, the Mare in the Moon eyed me through a small tear in the tarp above. It felt strange to think that to anypony older than me, the Mare in the Moon was a peculiarity. For thousands of years the Moon had been bare, but I'd never known any other Moon.
The Mare in the Moon had always watched me snoop around in the night, and I found myself taking a liking to her; she never told anypony. A small cloud passed before her eye as though she'd just winked. I sent back a wink of my own and a playful grin, just because.
I rushed the door, slamming my shoulder into it, and the frame broke at the lock. It only needed a few more determined bucks for the lock to fall and the door to creak open.
The pain in my shoulder hit me when I passed through. I dropped to my rump and set my back against the door.
“Oh, stars...” I hissed through clenched teeth and rubbed my shoulder. “Gosh.” I circled my shoulder around and listened for the pleasing pops. Next time I should just steal a key. But I did it, I figured. I may have been but a girl from the outside, but I still had some fight in me. I paid attention not to put too much weight on that leg as I stood up.
I must have been a dozen or two floors above ground. Going down I didn't mind much; it was the return trip that bothered me. I didn't come to infiltrate Canterlot Palace, see. Not that there was much to see here yet; much of the building stood entirely vacant and unfurnished, waiting for the façades to be finished first. Only the bottom few floors were finished, starting with the Princess' suite.
I knew there were many treasures to be had there: century-old urns and paintings, rooms where even the curtains were gilded with gold – but I wasn't here for such riches. I came looking for a different kind of prize, the kind that I – and the pony who convinced me to do this in the first place – personally valued the most. I was after knowledge.
Not that I was a professional thief stealing for rich clients across the country, though I fancied the thought; neither was I some kind of avenger or bringer of justice that stole from the rich to feed the poor, although sometimes I did fantasise. No, it was just an old friend asking for favours. She had the means to get in, and I had the ability, so we struck a deal.
It took a few minutes to reach the base of the spire. The way down had been uneventful; no guards, no nothing. The tricky part was still ahead, with all the lovely patrols I knew I'd run across. Over my previous visits, I'd come to learn that most of them were concentrated towards Celestia's suite and the treasury, thinning out in other places. That was good.
Just as I stepped out of the stairwell into the lavish foyer of the Palace, I heard the rattling of armour, making me slink right back. A pair of Royal Guards – one unicorn and one pegasus – walked lazily by. The spear of the unicorn floated beside its owner, while the pegasus used his as a walking stick, knocking it against the floor with every step as the two discussed something about mares.
What I liked about the Royal Guards was that even when they kept their mouths shut, they could still be heard coming a mile away. Once the duo disappeared behind a corner towards the treasury, I hurried off in the opposite direction.
The wide halls of the palace offered only a precious few opportunities to hide to the unwelcome visitor, and the light of the Moon poured through the tall windows that connected the marble floor to the ornate ceiling. Progress could never be quick: go too fast, and the sound of your hooves will give you away, but go too slowly and you'll surely be caught by the next patrol. It was a fine line – one I've learned to tread with careful steps.
Passing under the archway that connected the foyer to the next room, I heard another patrol on its way. I narrowly avoided being spotted by ducking under a stairway that led to an overlooking balcony.
One turn to the left took me to the servants' residence. Unlike the hallways of the palace, this section was small, its halls tiny, narrow, and windowless. Though candlesticks adorned the walls between the rooms of Celestia's many servants – maids, cooks, butlers, what have you – none of them were lit, leaving me reliant on the little light that seeped in from either end of the hallway.
My eyes quickly adjusted to the near pitch-blackness. Mama always told me I'd ruin them by reading at night all the time. Well look, Mama – I didn't.
Another thing about the servants' quarter was that Celestia appeared to trust them entirely. No patrols. So long as none of them got up to have a tinkle, and I kept the clopping of my hooves quiet, I could pass right by. I liked this section the most; calm and homely, really, and cheap carpets covered the floors to reduce the clopping of your steps. Ah, but I couldn't stay here. Maybe one day I'd get a job at the Archives, I thought – then I could perhaps land a room in the Palace. Would've been a lot more comfortable than my current rat hole.
Another turn left, and a short pace down a corridor on the right. I was halfway through when I heard the sounds of heavy, armoured steps. Looking back, I saw rays of light creep along the floor of the servants' quarter – and a unicorn stepping around the corner. I had to give it to Celestia: that was new.
All I could do was take off running. This corridor led directly into the Archives, and that's where I was headed. Emerging there, I found myself once again in a wide, well-lit space. I kicked off from the ground and flew up above the doorway, into the slim shadow where a pillar met the ceiling.
Breath held, I waited. The unicorn emerged beneath me shortly, with an orb of magical light floating beside him. I'd learned to hover in complete silence back when I was a little, even before I even learned to read – a skill I used many times to prank Mama. She'd think I was gone, freak out, then bam: surprise snuggles. I was that kind of kid.
The unicorn stopped and flashed his horn. The orb of light bolted off, making a quick lap around the Archives' anteroom, pausing briefly in front of each long hallway that led to a different wing.
As I slunk further behind the pillar, the orb's light briefly caught the tip of my hoof. The unicorn looked up – and thought I felt my heart stop beating for just a second. The guard perked his ears and squinted. I pressed myself against the other side of the pillar and grabbed on, pulling my wings in.
I couldn't see him, but I heard him walk around. It took all I had in me to painstakingly crawl around the pillar to keep out of sight. Whenever I felt my hooves slip, I grabbed on harder. I could feel the stone grind against my very bones.
The guard stopped again. After a moment, the orb of light descended back to him and he retreated into the corridor he had come from. I'd have given a sigh of relief, had I not ran out of breath after holding it for so long.
Oh, the sweet taste of air! I stretched my legs and took a moment to gather my thoughts.
The Canterlot Archives were a maze of stairs and twisting hallways, patrolled only scantly by the guards. I knew to avoid the better protected areas. My destination was the Lunar Wing: the one named in honour of the banished Princess of the Night that held knowledge which Celestia deigned to spare from us simple mortals. One had to wonder why she wanted to have the memory of her sister buried.
Still, I was grateful that the books my friend wanted to, er, borrow were in the Lunar Wing as opposed to a better-guarded one. It was locked, to be sure, but I had ways. From the entrance of the public University Wing, you could just see the Lunar Wing's enchanted gates around the bend. I'd sneaked a few peeks during my long hours spent studying in the Archives; not too much of course, because the guards didn't like it when ponies looked.
On the path I took across the place, I'd have to pass before the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing first. Now that one was a tough nut. Rumours had it that the wing contained spells that tampered with the very fabric of reality and the nature of life itself, and that the entire wing had been constructed as a sort of conduit between worlds.
There were who knows how many spells sealing it off from the outside world, not to mention the platoon of guards that patrolled the halls that led to it every hour of the day. I may have been good, but not good enough to get in the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing.
No use philosophising – I had classes for that. Best get going.
Thick curtains draped over the Archives' great windows, and in the light that crept in between them, the Mare in the Moon watched me run. Ever silent, never judging.
Hiding behind a curtain or taking a quick turn down another corridor was enough to get past the occasional guard, and I had to do a roll mid-air to get past the guards before the gates of the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing. Apart from those little bumps in the road, traversing the Archives wasn't particularly difficult. I liked to think that I was just that good.
It took but a few minutes to reach the tall gate of the Lunar Wing. Close to its surface, I could hear the air vibrate and whistle, making the hairs on my muzzle stand on end, the magicks that held the gate shut resonating in an invisible aura.
A quick look to the right; a peek to the left; the coast was clear, no sounds of rattling armour to be heard. I threw my saddlebag down to quickly dive into it. Books filled most of the space inside; blank, all of them. At the bottom I finally found the thing I needed: the Picklock Ruby. Picking it up, I hefted it in my hoof. It was heavier than it looked.
Not my creation, of course. I was a history student, not a spellcrafter. My friend usually supplied me with all the things I needed to get in and out of the Archives. Did she make them? Well, I never took her to be a magical prodigy. But I didn't know, and I didn't care. I didn't pretend to understand how enchanted gemstones worked.
All I needed was to know how to use it. I placed the ruby against the keyhole, then took my hoof away. The ruby remained in the air. Tendrils of red light sprouted from the gem, creeping into the hole and boring into the gate itself.
This was the deal: Flora Dawn provided the means to access the library, and I would sneak in to lift a few books for her. In return, I'd get to keep a few of them. We worked with the mutual agreement that neither of us asked questions. It was safer that way, for both of us.
As the gem worked on the lock, I looked around again. Still nopony.
The light of the gem gave out, letting it fall. I caught it before it could clatter on the floor. A shimmering wave washed outwards from the keyhole over the gate's surface, then back in before dissipating entirely. The whistling in the air stopped.
Confirming that there was still nopony watching me, I quickly got inside, easing the gate gently back into its frame as I shut it behind myself. By the time I took my second step away, the whistling started again.
Why would a young pony such as I risk the dungeons, banishment, or worse for a few books? I wasn't sure myself. On the one hoof, I was confident in my abilities not to be caught. Frankly, I found myself enjoying the thrills of doing something I shouldn't. On the other hoof, the Longest Night had always fascinated me. I could have no memories of it – having been born just a week or two before it – but I had a burning desire to find out more.
So this was it, the great Lunar Wing, home to knowledge that Celestia would have buried. If she didn't want anypony to see, perhaps she should've buried it all indeed. From my saddlebag, I fished out a piece of paper: a list of books that Flora wanted on this run. She had listed some by title, others by author, others merely by topic; whatever relevant I could get my hooves on, she said, would do.
We were careful not to lift too many books per occasion, so as not to draw attention. The later they figured out the books were missing – if at all – the better it was for us. The blank tomes in my saddlebag served to aid that deception: I'd use them to replace what I took so as to make the theft less glaring.
From the first level, I took Star Swirl's 'Soul Link: A Study of Luna's Fractured Spirit'. From the balcony overlooking the rest of the wing, I lifted 'Memoirs in the Night': a brief collection of stories from not long before the Longest Night, signed by one 'Silhouette'.
Next, I'd have to find a book on the creation of the Night Guards, if indeed such a thing existed. Anything I could find – a single passage in a grimoire, a spell scroll – would be enough. Best start looking, I figured, in the spellcrafting section. That was on the ground floor and just around a corner. I hopped onto the balcony rails and unfurled my wings, readying to quickly glide to the lower floor.
The rattling of armour.
My heart skipped a beat as I snapped my head towards the gate.
Hoofsteps, many of them. The gate's magicks whirled, winking in and out. They were unlocking the gate.
But I hadn't been followed. How did they—
A wave of magic washed over the gate.
I leapt from the balcony, slamming a shoulder into the bookshelf standing nearest the gate. Didn't care for the pain. If I didn't walk right for a few days, that'd be a small price to pay for not getting caught.
The shelf tipped over, books flying everywhere, and slammed into the gate. As the final spell-lock evaporated and the guards outside tried to pour inside, they found the gate barricaded by the shelf.
But that means I couldn't get out either. Okay, keep calm, I told myself. And stop chewing your lips, ponies'll ask questions. I'd always told myself this wouldn't happen. I was just that good, after all.
The guards banged on the gate, but the bookshelf was too heavy to budge.
Okay, cool it. I flicked my mane behind my back and rubbed the sides of my head. Flora made sure I came prepared.
The ceiling held a memory of Princess Luna: two storeys up, a stained glass window portrayed the Princess of the Night curled up in peaceful slumber within the Moon. Beautiful it may have been, but it was also a serious security flaw. To make sure nopony got into the Lunar Wing by breaking the window, they had barred it with steel – from the inside, weirdly enough. Perhaps Celestia wanted her sister to have a good view of the window from the heavens? From my view it became a poetic picture, in a way, of Luna sleeping behind prison bars.
As the guards banged on the gate, yelling for me to come out and for their peers to move, move, move. I didn't know how long the barricade would hold, but I wasn't sticking around to find out. Reaching into my saddlebag with a hoof, I flew up to the stained glass window and took out another red gemstone.
This gem had a groove carved into its cylindrical shape to fit snugly onto the window's bars. I knocked a hoof on the gemstone's side and slipped it onto the middle bar.
The banging on the gate continued, and I saw unicorn magic creep across its surface. As my hoof pressed the gemstone onto the bar above, I felt the gem radiate heat, glowing brighter every second.
Unicorn auras permeated the gate and crept slowly onto the bookshelf.
The bar seethed red at the touch of the gemstone. Come on, come on...
There was a loud bang, making me flinch and drop the gem. Diving after it, I saw magic blast the bookshelf away from the gate. It slid away and rocked in place, nearly tipping over the other way before settling upright.
I reached for the falling ruby, but my hoof only knocked it away. It clattered on the ground, splitting at the side; red glow seethed from the crack. When I tried to pick it up, it burned my hoof.
The gate began to creak open. I flew up to the side of the bookshelf and bucked it, sending it falling back onto the gate. As I burst up to the window, I found the bar already cold but deformed.
Without thinking, I flipped my belly up, wrapping my forehooves around the deformed bar and setting my hind hooves against the others around it. I pulled downward with all my might, grunting, screaming through clenched teeth. I beat my wings with everything I had for leverage against the bar.
My legs burned and my bones felt like they were going to break. Just when I thought my muscles would rip, the bar broke in two, bending under the pressure of my hooves.
Magic again swelled around the gate, and the banging continued. I began banging on the bent bar, hammering it with both hooves in a desperate frenzy to create an opening. My eyes began to tear up from the pain, and my lungs choked out an involuntary grunt every time my hoof impacted the metal.
Little by little, hit by hit, the bar bent. Once there was just enough space for me to crawl through, I turned and bucked the stained window – right at Luna's heart. As I shielded my face, I heard the glass shatter. The entire window came down around me, starting from the centre, showering the room with colourful shards.
As I climbed through the narrow space between the bent bar and the next, I heard the bookshelf fall over and the gate open.
There were few guards outside – they must have been called away to investigate the explosion earlier that night. Good, good for me.
With one quick glance back, I saw one pegasus flying for me. I turned and shot away, too quick for the armoured guard to follow, and disappeared behind Canterlot Palace. I darted through the scaffolds and walkways, hitting my wing on suspensions and unchiselled outcrops, but I didn't care.
My heart beat in my throat. I never knew I could fly so fast.
I turned here, I dove there, I whisked in whatever direction my eyes first saw, never looking back and refusing to slow down.
Finally my wings gave out, and I crashed somewhere near the park in the branches of a tall tree. I curled onto a branch and breathed shallow breaths, struggling to keep from throwing up. I paid no attention to the burning in my lungs.
After a minute, my heart finally calmed, and my mind cleared. Perching on the branch, I looked around from the relative safety of the dense foliage and found no pursuers. With a quick check on my fetlock, I found Mama's bracelet safe and sound around my leg. “You did well,” I whispered. “Really well.”
Then I realised I couldn't feel my saddlebag.
I jumped up, stomach clenching and panic washing over me like a cold shower – only to see the bag hanging by a strap from a broken branch above.
With a sigh of relief, I looked at the bracelet again. “You cheeky little thing.”
I lifted the bag off the branch and leaned my back at the trunk of the tree, taking the bag into my lap. Though I didn't get to use most of the blank tomes, at least both of the books I'd taken were inside. So that's something.
I looked around again, and found everything clear. It took me a second to process it. I'd done it. I got away.
As I hugged my bag like it was my baby, I caught myself giggling. I cut it short by stuffing a hoof in my mouth; let's not alarm the guards, I figured. I did it. Though I didn't think I'd be going back to the Archives any time soon. Not at night, anyway.
Throwing the bag over my back, I carefully hopped down from the tree before running home. It wasn't illegal to walk around Canterlot, after all. I kept my head down, of course – and made sure to take only roads without streetlights for good measure.
My Canterlot home was a small apartment among many towards the southern end of the city. Little more than a hole dug into the rocks of the mountain, really – but I was glad to have my scholarship cover this much. Celestia wasn't very popular – not that anypony would've said this out loud – but for my part, I liked her. For her reforms in education, if nothing else.
But of course, it was just her way of pushing lies onto the ignorant public and training a new generation of brainwashed youth, if the frustrated mutterings of old ponies were to be believed.
From the little porch of my apartment, I took one last look at the unfinished spire of the Palace, and the little black dots that were the guards swirling around it in the moonlight. So long, boys.
I kicked my door shut and stumbled into my room. A quick flick of my hoof sent the bag sliding under the bed. I finally took off my bracelet – one again thanking it for its powers of good fortune – and placed it in the drawer of my desk. Surely I'd exhausted its magic by now; best let the poor thing rest.
I butted the drawer in, then collapsed into bed.
The lecture hall slowly filled up as students drifted in, one by one. Well, 'filled' would be putting it strongly. Not many ponies in Equestria got to study at the University of Canterlot, and even fewer chose to study the field I did. Unicorn nobles would most often shove their children into spellcrafting – the most privileged might get to study under Star Swirl himself – while others chose to pursue rhetoric or geometry and astronomy. These were by far the most lucrative fields.
I dabbled in astronomy myself, just as a hobby; my main interests lay elsewhere.
For a common pony like me who relied on the scholarship afforded by the Treasury, studying history was unheard of. I liked to think of myself as some sort of pioneer. I was the youngest of our small group, and last night's little excursion didn't stop me from being the first one to arrive to class. Again.
In a strange symmetry, the oldest of us – some seven years or so older than me – would always arrive fifth and last. Right on cue, the gates of the lecture hall burst open behind me. I didn't have to turn to know who had just arrived.
Storming Falls was a brash pegasus, and a disgrace to Commander Hurricane's bloodline. I wouldn't have been surprised to find out I knew more about her than he did. He threw himself into his usual place at the desk behind me and mumbled his greetings.
“Hey.” His breath smelled of a night drowned in expensive wine and cheap mares.
From the way he'd eye me, I always thought he fancied me. I threw a quick “Good morning” his way before turning forward again. Mama would have killed me for brushing off a noble stallion like that, but in all honesty, he creeped me out.
Storming poked my wing. “You hear that explosion last night?”
I shuddered at his touch. “Who didn't?”
“It was on High Street,” he said, leaning closer. “A cousin lives there. Said it was an EBSS raid gone wrong. Said he saw bodies, a lot of 'em.”
I looked him dead in the eye. That made him shrink back. “If the EBSS is involved, it's best we don't talk about it, don't you think? If it concerns the rest of us, I'm sure the Princess will make an announcement at the Plaza.”
“So the EBSS can just blow up our homes?” He scoffed loudly, gurgling then spitting. “You don't think that's wrong? I swear, if we got to make decisions again, like back in Hurricane's time...”
“No,” I said, pushing back his forehead. “Nope, not listening.” With that, I turned around. Ponies who said such things had a habit of disappearing. Though for Storming here, I felt it would've been good riddance.
“All's I'm saying is—”
Hoofsteps. A face I didn't recognise had entered the hall and made his way between the rows of desks. His horn glowed in greenish light, and a stack of books floated right beside him, following the bobbing of his head. And that must be our new professor. The previous one suddenly had to leave because of 'family reasons'. Not my business what that entailed.
I mentally thanked this one for shutting Storming up.
As he reached the front desk, the light of the professor's horn winked out, dropping the stack of books down. He took off his monocle and briefly brushed it against his vest before putting it back on. Straightening his back, he stood at attention, overlooking us with a high chin and lips sealed stiff.
I was the first to pick up on the gesture. Gently pushing my chair out – making sure not to make much noise – I got up from my seat and stood at attention as well. With my chin raised, I came level with the professor despite him standing on a raised dais. He was a small, ageing stallion, and me, well, I'd always been a little big.
Although I didn't turn to check, I heard the squeaking of chairs as more and more students got the hint, standing up one by one. When the sounds stopped, I saw the corners of the professor's lips curl to a smile.
After a moment spent scanning the class, he breathed out. Then he relaxed his posture and waved a hoof downwards. “You may sit down.”
In another bout of chair squeaks and added whispers, we took our seats again.
He turned to me. “What is the name of the fine young lady?”
I perked up as I clopped my hooves together. “New Page, sir.”
Storming poked my wing again and snickered. “Nerd.”
The professor sent him a glance, his faint smile growing subtly. “I take it the lady has a reputation.”
A wave of guilty, quiet giggles washed over the group. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help a smile myself.
The professor cleared his throat and let his smile fade away. “I suppose this greeting has fallen out of style, hasn't it? I consider myself a rather old-fashioned stallion. I like to begin lectures this way. Humour an old fool.”
He stepped behind his desk and took the top book off the stack to flick it open. “Can anypony guess when this style of formal greeting began becoming less popular?”
The class answered with hushed murmurs, nopony speaking up. Rarely did they teach etiquette during history lessons.
I knew that my tutor back home had me stand at attention before we'd begin, and he was also quite an old pony, and Horsmouth was an ancient town anyway. Barely any children there – just old ponies.
But in the Canterlot University, I really didn't know about any customs, and—
“The Longest Night?” asked Storming. By the tone, it was more of a guess than anything.
The whispers stopped, and silence befell the hall.
“Yes,” the professor replied. His voice was matter-of-fact, showing no hint of aversion at the mention of that terrible event. “In many ways, society before the Longest Night was much more, shall we say, 'rigid' than it is today. I suppose it was that night which made us appreciate each other a little more. Happy to be alive and to have each other, as it were.”
He stopped for a moment. “What's with the faces?” His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned us. “Oh. That's right. You're that generation. It's taboo, isn't it? You're the kids born right around that time. You don't remember.”
I saw the hint of a subdued smile on his lips again, just for a moment before it dissolved.
“Well,” he said, “if you happened to have been born – or conceived really – shortly before the Longest Night and you're still around, congratulations. You're lucky. Nightmare Moon didn't like children very much.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Afraid of the dark.”
He stood quiet for a moment. We just stared. I couldn't guess what he was going for with this. When he spoke again, his voice sounded deeper, and it boomed throughout the hall.
“Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. I am Golden Monocle, and as you've most likely guessed, I will be the one to teach you about the Longest Night. But first you have to learn to talk about it.” He inhaled deeply, and his voice softened again. “How do you want to learn about history if you're afraid of it?” Pursing his lips, he shook his head.
He dropped into his chair, which creaked as he leaned back. With his hooves on his belly, he went on. “I like to make my first lecture very... talky. You might call it wasted time, but I like gauging just how much you kids actually care. When was the Longest Night?”
I put up a hoof. Golden Monocle nodded.
“On the night before the longest day of the year, which would later become the Summer Sun Celebration. Which means the twentieth anniversary is coming up.”
The professor looked me over, raising a brow. “How long was the Longest Night?”
“Two weeks, three days, and a little.” I rubbed the side of my head. “Five hours?”
A suppressed groan resounded behind me. I paid Storming no mind, and neither did the professor.
He shrugged. “Well, if you say it was five hours, it was five hours. I certainly wasn't counting.” He sighed. “Maybe we're rushing ahead of ourselves there. Let's back up. A little more personal, less academic. You don't have to answer this one. You usually don't. But I always ask.”
He leaned forward, putting his hooves onto the desk and taking a moment to look each of us in the eye. “Has any of you lost anypony in the Longest Night?”
When our eyes met, I cast my gaze down. Didn't even mean to do that.
He was right, though: I didn't want to answer it. Lost my Papa. Mama would sing odes about him, though I'd never known him. He was a Royal Guard who died bravely defending Mama and me from a pair of berserk Night Guards. That's why Mama moved all the way out to Horsmouth to raise me, she said, because she couldn't bear to live near the Old City any more. It was a miracle I even 'happened' before, well...
“As I thought,” Golden Monocle said. “I'm good at recognising the faces. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.” He rubbed his chin. “Well then, tell me about the Tyranny Clause.”
Oh, I knew that one – and I much preferred fishing facts and trivia from my memory over thinking about Papa.
“Normally,” I said, “a majority vote from the Senate had the power to veto the decisions of Princess Luna and Princess Celestia. The Tyranny Clause could be evoked in case of an unforeseen catastrophe, such as war or supernatural disaster, to give the two sisters supreme executive power. This would be the Tyranny of the Two Sisters, and lasted one year.”
I couldn't keep a straight face. No matter how much I protested, my lips curled to a smile. “Princess Celestia evoked the clause during the Longest Night and has subsequently elected to extend its duration every year. Today, the Senate fills an advisory role... and the Princess listens, of course.”
The professor raised a brow. “What were the Night Guards?”
“Princess Luna's personal guard, later banished by the Elements of Harmony. Once ordinary ponies, they were bound to her through magic as the ultimate sign of loyalty or penance, giving them a bat-like appearance.”
“And?” he asked.
I needed a second. “This has also made them infertile.”
He nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Not exactly what I was looking for.”
“Um...” I swallowed. “Well, there were a couple hundred of them at any given time, spread throughout the Old City and related settlements. During the Princess Luna-Princess Celestia feud, that is the rise of Nightmare Moon, that is the Longest Night, they turned on Celestia and her Royal Guard. They—”
The professor stomped a hoof on the desk, the bang resounding across the hall. “Monsters,” he said. “You will never find a whore more fickle than history. She will spread her legs to anypony powerful enough. But if there is one thing that you can always be absolutely certain of, it's that the Night Guards were monsters.”
He looked down and licked his lips, shaking his head quickly. With a deep breath, he got up from his chair and faced us. He didn't seem so tiny any more.
“Even before the Longest Night, many ponies were against the Night Guard 'system', if you were to call it that. Placing public safety in the hooves of vandals and wanna-be soldiers...” He scoffed. “They used alicorn magic to bypass years of mental and physical training. Needless to say, Princess Luna was relentlessly attacked for running the institution. And when the inevitable happened, it was too late.”
Behind the professor's eyes, I saw a fire burn. To me, the Longest Night had always been just like any other page in the book: history, nothing more. Consciously, I'd known it all along, but this was when it dawned on me: Professor Golden Monocle was somepony who had seen the atrocities that my Mama refused to talk about.
And suddenly, I felt ashamed for treating the event so nonchalantly. I couldn't look him in the eye.
“I want to drill this into your heads as early as possible,” he went on, shaking his hoof in the air. “Do not feel sorry for the Night Guards. Monsters, all of them. Let nopony tell you otherwise.” He shrugged, a hint of a smile again appearing on his lips yet again. “Not that anypony would.”
Even after the professor finally calmed down and continued the lecture, I couldn't help but wonder what he might have seen.
It was late afternoon by the time my last class was done. Fishing my key from my bag, I slid it into the lock – only to have the apartment door creak open at the first push. My heart skipped a beat.
I looked back, at the long sloped path that snaked along the mountainside from the streets below. Nopony nearby. Turning back to the door, I took a deep breath and pushed in slowly, trying not to make a sound. The anteroom was empty.
“Page?” called a familiar voice. I exhaled in relief.
I closed the door with a hind hoof. “Flora, where are you?” In response, I heard the sounds of water splashing. Turning into my room, I threw my bag onto the bed and looked to where the sound came from. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”
More splashing. “Indoor plumbing, Page. Indoor plumbing.”
As I opened the bathroom door, a gust of hot air and steam blasted me. Flora Dawn lay submerged in the tub with only her eyes and muzzle above the water. A dirty cloak lay crumpled in the laundry basket.
She quickly looked me over before closing her eyes. “You've got warm water flowing from the wall. Remember how back in Horsmouth we had to fill the tub from the well halfway down the mountain? And even then it was cold.” She leaned back, and with a comfortable smile sunk her head under the surface so that only her ears and horn poked out. Then she started blowing bubbles.
“Well, maybe if you pursued an education like I did instead of running away for ten years, maybe Celestia would pay for your luxurious Canterlot home.”
She sat up with a jerk, splashing warm water all over me. She stretched her hooves and shook her light-red mane dry. Her coat was even lighter: almost entirely white with just the faintest shade of pink. Back when we were kids, we used to joke that she was an albino.
“So,” she began as she draped her wet legs over the side of the tub, “did you do the thing?”
“No, I go first. Don't you ever take that thing off?” I pointed at the amulet around her neck. “I mean, I know I have my quirks, but really?”
Flora curled her neck to looked down at her amulet. It was shaped like a downward-pointing triangle that curved slightly to follow the lines of her neck; a dark, metallic plate polished to a brilliant shine, with an embedded, deep red gemstone adorning the centre.
“It was a gift from somepony I admire. Of course I don't. Now, about the books...”
“No, let me go second too. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that explosion last night, would you?”
Flora raised a brow above a sly grin. “Even if I did, you wouldn't want me to tell you.”
I conceded defeat with a sigh. “Alright. Yes, I got the books. Well, some of them. Damn well got caught too, I actually had to use the—”
“Which ones?” Flora leapt from the tub and shoved me aside as she burst into my room.
“Hey, at least dry yourself up, will you?” I got a towel and, following her into the room, threw it on her shoulders. “Under the bed.”
Quick as she was to climb under the bed, I grabbed her tail and pulled her out.
“Don't get them wet, you.” I pulled the towel over her head and eyes. “Towel. Use it.”
While she dried her mane, I reached under the bed and pulled my worn saddlebag out. I undid its latch to spill the contents onto the bed.
“So, as you can see,” I explained as I sorted through the contents, “most of these are the blanks. I only got two out, this and this here. Oh, here's the door gem. Lost the heat one.”
Flora wrapped the towel around her neck like a scarf. “Wait, they didn't see you, did they?”
“I wouldn't be here if they did, would I?”
She clapped a hoof on my shoulder. “And that's why you're the best.” She reached for the stolen books. “So which ones are these?”
“The soul link one, and the memoirs.” As Flora looked them over, I had to resist the urge to take them out of her hooves. “So, when am I getting these?”
She cracked open Soul Link, and responded without looking up. “Oh, well, that all depends. These are very, very interesting pieces.”
I pursed my lips. “Well, what about payment for last time? Are you done with those yet?”
“Patience, my dear.” The tip of her horn sparkled and a red tuft of magic turned the page. She patted my head with her gaze still in the book. “I should have something for you by next week.”
“I think this is the right time to mention that I'm not going back.”
Her magic winked out and the book fell; she turned to me with an incredulous expression.
“Why not?”
“Because I came this close to getting caught, hello?” Sitting back, I crossed my hooves. “I know I do crazy things, but no more. I think I've finally had enough excitement, and I don't want those EBSS monsters knocking on my door.”
Flora looked away for a moment. Her expression changed from jovial to serious: not something I saw often. “Very well,” she said. “That's reasonable. Tell you what.”
She threw Soul Link onto the bed, then went to pick up Memoirs, only to theatrically give it over to me.
“You keep this one for the time being. You've definitely earned it.”
Raising a brow, I took the book. Better do it, I figured, before she changed her mind.
“As for not going back to the Archives, I understand that.” She rubbed her chin. “If you used the heat gem, that means you made quite the scene. Has to be swarming with guards. Not a safe place, no.” She leaned a bit closer, a sly smile spreading across her face. “I'm sure we can come up with something... different.”
“And mutually beneficial,” I added.
“Of course,” she replied. “Make no mistake, you are very important to us. And we take care of those we hold important.”
“That ominous 'we' again, Flora?”
“Yes, well...” Flora giggled. “Not knowing is, trust me, for your own benefit.”
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I have to admit, I never expected that particular turn of events. So much for those "Monsters"
Hm... Well this is getting a little more interesting.
So far we have extreme secret police who take down anyone considered a threat, and a sneak-thief historian working with night's children. When the two meet there will be much fireworks and possibly air clearing on both sides.
Why have I the feeling that the Children of the night will transform Page into a thestral against her will and then make her continue to steal books for a serum that keeps her normal.
6290707 Where did you even get that from? That's pretty far from what we've seen now.
6291803 Call it a creative prediction...
I'll read it later, but that cover art makes me incredibly angry every time I look at it.
6302636
Would it be better if I told you she deserves it?
6302784 There isn't much you could tell me she's done that would warrant that kind of torture, even torturing others. There comes a point at which someone has to say "no, I wont do that. It crosses 'the line'" and refuses to go any farther. For me, that's this pic. I don't care who it is, I wouldn't care if that was Hitler or any other monster throughout history, that kind of treatment angers me.
"how"
That puts our young protagonist at about 23.
There must be more than one copy for it to not be sequestered away in the Star Swirl Wing.
"streetlights"
Hmmm, I was mistaken. Page is 20 or almost 20.
Me too Page, me too.
Well, hello Priestess Nicht.
Hmmm, so they grew up in the same town, probably friends back then as well. Both academics who managed to gain scholarships to the same school.
Hmmmm, not both academics, whatever happened to Flora in her travels.
Whatever slight amount of doubt I had is gone now.
Hmmm, some similar elements but it does not have an alicorn molded onto the front. Maybe it is the gem itself that does everything and the triangle bits are just for show.
Soul linking... best friend is a power mad unicorn that tortures ponies. Just what shit is poor Page gonna get thrown into? And all because of a friend she had while growing up. However... Flora's color does not match that of the unicorn Swift Sweep chased after. The description was more like Trixie's than Flora's albino pink coat and red mane.
6303459
I see the cover more as a metaphorical prison since Nightmare is a personality of Luna in Night Shift. Though it is a bit cruel, Tuna has seemed to want something similar to happen to The Nightmare in your own story. But I can understand where you are coming from, especially the meat hooks.
*shudder*
This chapter was much better than the last one. The beginning felt a little too eager to get into the story. The expounding of exposition is still a bit of an issue; Page doesn't need to blatantly say what her purpose for coming to the archive and stealing books is when it's easy enough to glean from her interactions with Dawn.
Also, Dawn is so blatantly evil that she's either troping “friend turned enemy,” and they'll have to fight later. Or she's a red herring meant to misdirect the reader with a twist “Surprise! Flora Dawn wasn't evil!” Either way, I'm game.
>unscheduled rain or heavy wind
>in Equestria, where ponies control the weather
Hahaha, this reminds me of Ocarina of Time:
(skip to 4:04)
Golden Monocle. I remember loving this guy. Pity he doesn't make many more appearances. Or does he? Have you edited this to the point where I won't be expecting him anymore and then he shows up? Ooooo! What if he's Weiss(?) in disguise?
Sounds like abuse to me
I belieb you mean 'ears'
Girl, you are working for the WRONG ponies.