IX: Angels Can Be Replaced
For the longest time, Celestia’s eyes were closed as tight as could be. She buried herself into Cotton’s mane and sniffled, trying to banish her mixed tears of sorrow and joy. She was only somewhat successful. Cotton patted her on the back in a gesture of comfort. Pulling away from Cotton’s embrace was difficult, in part because it felt so deeply satisfying to be held by a friend. Any hesitation Celestia had felt about Cotton’s apparent eccentricity was dashed away as she hugged and was hugged in return.
It was also difficult to pull apart because they were literally stuck together, the adhesive syrup and taffy on their hooves and aprons acting as makeshift glue. After a long, sentimental moment of tranquility and empathy, they tried to separate, and found they could not. After a few long pulls, they eventually snapped apart, both giggling like schoolfillies as they tumbled backwards. Celestia fell into a bag of multicolored sugar. It burst open, sprinkling her with a fine coating of shimmering colors.
“I think I’m going to need another bath,” Celestia laughed, gingerly poking at the rainbow of stickiness on her coat and mane.
“I think it looks nice!” Cotton complimented, giggling at both herself and Celestia.
“Oh, but nopony wears candy like you, Cotton,” Celestia replied. It was true; Cotton looked completely natural covered in sugar and syrup. Of course, it was complemented by the fact that her cyan coat, in combination with her purple and pink mane, already gave the impression of sweetness.
“I agree with Cotton,” a voice came from across the room, wavering and formal. “You wear the confectioner’s cloak well, Celestia.”
Celestia jumped in surprise. Standing across the room was Master-Adept Clover, highest ranking magical official in Canterlot and witness to the previous night’s horrible, embarrassing events. She wore a tired, amused smile on her face.
“O-oh!” Celestia cried in alarm. She had been completely unaware of the mage’s presence. “Y-yes, well I…! Cotton helped me with…! That is to say…! O-oh, where are my manners?”
Celestia was unsure whether she should salute, or bow. In her panic, she attempted to do both, and tripped over her own hooves in the process. Cotton laughed as Celestia stumbled to the ground, and then scrambled back to her hooves, desperate to show proper respect.
“G-good greetings, milady… I, I mean, Master-Adept,” Celestia formally acknowledged. Her voice was quiet and humble. “Thy presence is most welcome. I most sincerely apologize for the events of last night. I prithee forgive me, t-they shall not be repeated.”
“Indeed, they shall not,” Clover mumbled angrily. Celestia took her anger to be directed towards her, and whimpered in reply.
“I-If thou wilt have me, I wish to ask of thee…” Her voice gradually lost volume, until it lowered to a nearly inaudible whisper. “I have some… If it pleases thee, I have… some… questions…” Celestia finished, timidly kicking at the floor. Beside her, Cotton’s giggles died down as she noticed Celestia’s discomfort.
“Your mane looks like a rainbow!” she declared, attempting to lighten the mood. “Ha! A rainbow mane. Could you imagine?”
“Cotton!” Celestia said through gritted teeth, “Show respect! This is the Master-Adept of Canterlot!”
“What?” Cotton said, looking from Celestia to Clover, and back. “Oh, I know that, silly! Hiya, Clover!” Cotton waved jovially at the old mare, who returned it with a modest gesture.
“Good morning, Miss Cake,” Clover politely greeted. “I hope things are well.”
“Oh, things are just stupendous!” Cotton said, grinning. “Celestia here was helping me make candy! She’s done such a wonderful job, I’m surprised she doesn’t have her cutie mark in candy making already.”
Celestia was suddenly very aware of the smell of burning toffee coming from the stove behind her. She blushed and sheepishly bowed her head.
“Er, yes… I mean,” Celestia stuttered, desperately searching for something properly intelligent and applicable to say, and utterly failing. "Cotton has done me a great service, and… and…”
“That’s quite enough formality, Celestia,” Clover chided sternly. Celestia immediately stopped, thinking she had somehow offended the Master-Adept. She shyly raised her gaze, shifting around a bit before looking at Clover. To her surprise, she was met with not a harsh expression, but one of tolerance and relief.
“Save it for the courtrooms, where it will do you some good. Here, you are among friends,” Clover said. The second she did, Celestia seemed to know it was true. Her voice, though old and trembling, spoke plain and simple truth. Indeed, the sound of age seemed to amplify the effect, empowering it with a veracious timbre that only the old and truly wise possessed. Celestia did not speak, but her fear was assuaged, if only a little.
“Miss Cake,” Clover said, turning to the candy-coated mare, who was tentatively licking the tip of her hoof.
“I taste delicious… Yes, Clover?” Cotton replied.
“I know you are busy, but may I borrow Celestia for a short while?”
“Oh, I’m not that busy,” Cotton admitted, lackadaisically waving a hoof towards her. “I’ve been way ahead of production ever since last night, when the royals ordered too much food for the Midnight Gala.”
Celestia blinked. “Not… busy?”
“Thank you, Miss Cake,” Clover said.
“Mm hmm.” Cotton nodded absentmindedly, already having resumed her candy making, working to salvage Celestia’s roasting toffee.
“I thought you said-” Celestia began.
“Celestia,” Clover interrupted, “If you would come with me.” She motioned to the cellar stairs. Celestia briefly looked back and forth, before heading towards the exit. She quickly trotted up the steps and outside, where it was still mid-morning. The air was mildly cool and very refreshing, especially after being overwhelmed with the sweet smells of candy in the workshop.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, rejuvenating breath, trying her best to become calm. The Master-Adept was nopony to be afraid of. She had done nothing to wrong Celestia. She certainly did not treat her poorly, like so many others had. That fact alone put Clover in good standing. The more Celestia convinced herself of this, the better she felt, and her nervousness gave way to cautious curiosity.
Celestia realized Clover was taking a while. Looking back down the steps, she saw the old mare only halfway up. Celestia briefly wondered if she should go help.
“Oh, phooey,” Clover muttered. She looked at a concerned Celestia. “One moment, dear.”
The Master-Adept’s horn began to glow. Celestia stepped back nervously. A moment later, a loud crack filled the air, accompanied by a blinding purple flash. Celestia jumped back in surprise, and then jumped forward after an identical crack sounded directly behind her.
“Oh, pardon me, dear,” Clover apologized, quickly brushing dust off of her cloak. “I did not mean to scare you.”
Celestia wheeled around to see Clover standing behind her. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, grasping at an explanation that was beyond her.
“What was that?” Celestia asked, her tact and formality lost.
“I am the Master-Adept, dear,” Clover simply said, “Second only to the Arch-Mage. You learn a thing or two in my line of work.”
“Second to who? Is ‘Master-Adept’ not the highest rank?” Celestia asked, the thought springing to her lips before she could stop it.
“Oh, no,” Clover shook her head. “The Arch-Mage makes decisions for the Royal Magi. I am simply her advisor. Though, keep in mind, rank is no substitute for experience.” She paused and smiled, allowing herself a moment of pride.
“In addition, as the title implies, I am also the Master of the Adepts. Or,” she added bitterly, “I was their master.”
Celestia was unsure of how to respond, so she said nothing. Clover continued.
“When you are as old as me, you find ways to supplement your weakness. My mind is undoubtedly stronger than my body.” Clover nodded, as if to assure herself it was true. She turned to Celestia. She stood fascinated, eagerly awaiting another action from the strange mage.
“You have questions, yes?” Clover said.
Celestia nodded.
“You are curious about your origins, yes?”
Celestia nodded again.
“It will have to wait.”
Celestia was motionless. “What?” she asked, almost sure she had heard her wrong.
“It will have to wait,” Clover repeated. “I am tired. Do you know I spent all night looking for you? You cannot run off like that, especially with your condition.”
Celestia’s wings fluttered self-consciously, and she drooped her head. “Forgive me.”
“No need,” Clover assured, “The fault lies not with you. You were ill-equipped for the events of the night previous. Lieutenant Break was acting quite foalish. As for the other ponies, well… they are simply not ready for you.”
Celestia nodded her head in defeat. In the background, they heard a small bang, and smoke began to ascend from the cellar, followed by a whimsical, “Rats!” The sound caused a question to occur to Celestia.
“I know I am an alicorn,” she began. Clover’s ears raised in interest. “I know what that means. Cotton showed me a book, a foal’s book. Alicorns are monsters.”
“Oh,” Clover said, “Well, surely then she told you that you are not a monster, and then raised your spirits with laughter.”
“Yes, she…” Celestia began, but paused. “How did you know?”
“At times, being the Master-Adept allows me to know more than even the most gossip-hungry barkeep,” she said, “But other times…”
There was another bang. “Nailed it!” Cotton distantly exclaimed.
“…you can just guess.” Clover smiled.
Celestia nodded in understanding. For all her unpredictability, there were a few things, it seemed, Cotton could be relied upon to do.
“But I still have a question,” Celestia continued. “Cotton is nice, and all, and for that I am supremely grateful. But…”
“But?” Clover prompted.
“But why was she not frightened at my presence?” Celestia questioned, genuinely curious. “She grew up with the same stories as other ponies, I imagine. My being an alicorn should scare her as much as it does anypony else. Did you tell her I was coming? And if you did, how does a mere confectioner hold favor with an Adept of the Royal Magi?”
“Hmmm,” Clover mumbled, nodding in approval. “Very astute observation, Celestia. It was my intention to ask her help in regards to you, our newest guest. She has a house outside the walls, and one that is quite secluded at that. I never had the chance to properly ask, but it seems she found you anyways. Cotton loves having guests, as I’m sure you are already aware. Until we were ready to formally present you to the public, it was my plan to keep you away from the public eye. Too late for that, it seems.
“And as for how a ‘mere confectioner’ holds my favor?” Clover added. “My dear, Cotton holds favor with everypony. She has nary a single enemy in the whole of Canterlot.”
Celestia believed it. “But why was she not afraid?”
“Because, my dear,” Clover said, “that is simply the way Cotton-”
“Because my friend-sense was tingling!” a voice came from behind her, interrupting Clover. Celestia hurriedly wheeled around. She saw nopony.
“Cotton?” she called.
“Right here, silly!” Celestia turned in another circle to see Cotton, standing in the direction she had previously been facing. Celestia allowed herself to only briefly question the occurrence before continuing.
“Your what?” Celestia asked.
“My friend-sense!” Cotton happily chirped. “I was on my way home from the Midnight Gala, when it tingled! I could tell somepony was feeling sad and needed a friend. And then I found you!”
“But… how? Why did you…?” Celestia asked.
“I told you! My friend-sense!” Cotton replied, as if it were inherently obvious.
“But…!” Celestia began. She caught sight of Clover, standing behind Cotton and shaking her head. It’s no use, she seemed to say.
“Oh, nevermind,” Celestia said. Some things, it seemed, were beyond explanation. “Thank you, Cotton.”
“It was nothing, really!” Cotton said. Celestia rolled her eyes, and smiled at Cotton’s absurdity. Cotton grinned right back.
“In any case,” Clover spoke, “I must inform you of a few things. First, if you still wish to speak with me, you must wait until tonight. I will send a detachment of guards to escort you here. They will be of the 21st, so there is no need to fear. The 21st division,” she added, seeing Celestia’s confused frown, “is also known as the Maiden’s Battalion. They are the most disciplined soldiers we have. They shall give you no grief.”
Celestia nodded. She had forgotten that the “Maiden’s Battalion” was not the official name of the group. Still, Lucky was practically in command of the division, and he had been awful. The brutality and utter callousness of his words still bitterly stung. Cotton’s timely intervention had surely helped, but even then, Celestia could not help but ponder the events. Every time she thought of that horrible declaration, another dash of salt was thrown onto an already open wound. That mare is a weapon...
Her heart painfully throbbed with betrayal and despair. And naught else.
“Celestia?”
She blinked away her daydream, and hurriedly looked over to Clover, who returned her gaze with an expression of concern.
“You do still want to speak, yes?” Clover asked, seeing Celestia’s hesitant fear. It took a moment of recovery, but Celestia eventually shook her thoughts away. She responded with a vigorous nod, simply hoping that Lucky’s soldiers were better mannered than he.
“Good. There is one more thing. We must still present you to the public eye. Ponies must be made aware of your existence if ever you wish to be met with respect, rather than fear.”
At this Celestia’s heart jumped. She did not want to leave the safety of Cotton’s house. Ever. The thought of facing the horrible taunts of the ponies was almost too much.
“I promise,” Clover said, seeing an objection form on Celestia’s lips, “it will be better once it’s all over with. And laughter,” she continued, seeing a second objection coming from Cotton, “in Celestia’s case, will only get her so far.”
She continued. “The meeting was originally scheduled to be held in one month, but after your appearance at a party filled to the brim with curious nobles, the council will no doubt be clamoring for an official hearing. I estimate a week.”
“A week?” Celestia despaired.
“Perhaps less,” Clover amended. Celestia’s heart jumped even further.
“Oh, don’t worry, Celly!” Cotton said, patting her on the back with a still-sticky hoof. “I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends!”
A sudden gust of stiff wind blew through the fields. Clover turned around to peer into the wind. Their manes gently fluttered with the current. It settled quickly. It was a minor occurrence, easily forgotten had it not been for the items that had sailed in on the breeze.
“Sunflowers?” Celestia asked, looking at the scattered arrangement of cheerful, yellow flowers around her. “Are sunflowers grown here?”
“Not inside the city,” Clover muttered, looking in the direction of the breeze, at the walls of Canterlot. Cotton looked positively delighted.
“You see, Celestia!” she cried, picking up a number of the flowers and arranging them into a disorganized bouquet. “Flowers!” she presented them to Celestia, who took them with a timid smile.
“It’s a sign! I’ll bet each one symbolizes a new friend you’re going to make!” Cotton’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll bet they’re from a secret admirer!” she said, playfully nudging Celestia and winking.
“Yes, well-” she began, but paused. Another gentle breeze blew, and another flower fluttered towards her, almost seeming to materialize from brilliance of the eastern sun. Celestia reached and carefully plucked it out of the sky.
She eyed it curiously. It was stunted and smashed, as if somepony had accidentally, or purposefully, stepped on it. The stem was coming apart, and at least a third of the lovely yellow petals had fallen out. Judging by the large size and bold color, it had, at some point, been beautiful. Now, the opposite was true. The sunflower drooped, almost giving the impression of unhappiness, as if it were lamenting the events that left it ruined. It was unsightly, and yet…
“Perhaps,” Celestia said, adding the crushed flower to the bouquet.
**********
Canterlot City had lost its air of supreme majesty, replaced instead by an urban dreariness. Overhead was a large bank of overcast clouds. It was not scheduled to rain, but the pegasi weather teams had been assigned to push a set of storm clouds to a frontier settlement that needed the moisture. The city happened to be underneath the flight path. Not even the sun could salvage the glory of Canterlot, having been blocked out of the sky by the thick cloud layer. As of now, there was little evidence of the daytime, the only indication being a rapidly setting blot of smothered light, suppressed behind the greyness. Without something to reflect, the white Canterlot stone was inert, simply becoming another building material rather than the masterpiece of shining masonry it was meant to be.
Celestia’s opinion of the city had rapidly lessened since she arrived. Following the events of the previous night, she no longer saw it as a bastion of security, but rather as a prison, or a place of terrible judgment. The towering walls seemed as though they would come down upon her at any moment. She imagined this is what a spy felt like, infiltrating a camp, the enemy surrounding her on all sides, with vital information located at the furthest possible place.
From across the carriage, Cotton could see the anxiety clearly painted on Celestia’s face. She was looking intently at the floor, trying in vain to hide it. Cotton tapped Celestia on the shoulder. She looked up, and Cotton gave her an encouraging smile. She returned it half-heartedly, and it appeared to be more of an unintentional grimace.
“Hey,” Cotton said. “You’ll be fine.”
Celestia nodded. “Of course,” she said. She tried to be genuine, but much to Cotton’s dismay, she was obviously not convinced. Celestia returned her gaze to the floor.
The soldiers of the 21st had been courteous enough. Led by the familiar face of Apple Crumble, they had arrived at Cotton’s cottage with a nondescript, inconspicuous little carriage. Rather than armor, the guards drawing it had been dressed in the work clothes of a carriage puller. The small entourage that she assumed to be her guard had completely forgone armor, in favor of casual civilian clothing, or no clothing at all. Their weapons were small and hidden, switchblades concealed beneath sleeves and daggers behind cloaks. The only pony who had dressed in official armor was Apple Crumble. When Celestia asked, he had told her it was to avoid drawing attention. The ponies of the city were waiting for a royal carriage, he said, hoping to get a glimpse at the rumored alicorn. When she still seemed concerned, Crumble assured her further, telling her the Maiden’s Battalion was used to “unusual operations”. Some of the soldiers had unconsciously nodded in agreement, shooting knowing looks and sly smiles at each other.
They had come prepared, and given Celestia a black, hooded cloak with which to hide her wings. She gladly accepted it, firmly stretching the cape over her back and pulling the hood as far over her head as it would go. Her disguised guards eyed her curiously before she hid her features, but if they disliked what they saw, they did not voice their opinions.
Cotton had, of course, elected to join her. Crumble had protested at first, but the moment he realized who it was, they greeted each other as old friends, each inquiring about the other’s health, family, and fortune. Much to Celestia’s relief, he agreed to let her come, and she had stepped into the carriage, but not before cheerfully greeting every single member of the guard by name.
“She’s righ’, Celestia,” Apple Crumble spoke, breaking Celestia out of her daydream. He sat next to Cotton, his armor rustling as he shifted in his seat. “There’s a path fer carriages that goes straight into the garden. We’re gonna park righ’ on Clover’s doorstep. Nopony’s gonna bother yeh, I promise.”
“And if they do, they’ll get the iron boot!” Cotton cried, her face set with a comedic ferociousness. “Right, Crumble?”
“Steel, actually,” Crumble chuckled, playfully rapping Cotton on the head.
It failed to make Celestia feel any better. She did not want the threat of violence to keep other ponies in line. She wanted it to be natural. Cotton knew everypony in the guard. She and Crumble were practically best friends, the way they spoke with one another. If she happened to meet a stranger, she made it her immediate goal to know them. Celestia wished she could find camaraderie just as effortlessly.
Still, the events of that morning were clear in her mind. Stay smiling, stay laughing, stay positive, and everything will be fine.
The carriage rumbled on. Her guards, for the most part, remained unseen. Only once or twice did she see a familiar face. They moved with the crowds, inconspicuous and nonchalant as could be. Nopony, for even a moment, had reason to believe they were trained soldiers.
They reached the castle, where the guards seemed to be expecting them. Much of the guard dissipated, but some fell into line, surrounding the carriage in a proper defensive march. The arrived at the observatory tower minutes later. Somepony, a royal guard, opened the carriage door and motioned the passengers out. Crumble shuffled out, followed by a gleeful skip and remark of thanks from Cotton. Celestia took a breath, and followed suit.
**********
“Enter.”
A great pair of wooden doors swung open, groaning with effort and age.
“Celestia! Do come in, dear.”
Celestia, still dressed in her black, concealing cloak, timidly stepped through the great doorway, leaving Cotton and the soldiers behind. She threw back her hood, and, after shuffling forward to a respectful distance, dipped into a deep bow.
“Good greetings, Master-Adept Clover, and may the gods find thee well,” Celestia spoke, her voice small and contrite. “It is an honor to be in thy presence.”
“Oh, dear,” Clover said remorsefully. Immediately, Celestia panicked, worried she had done something wrong. “I thought I said no more formality?”
Celestia stood from her bow. “Oh! Oh, yes, you did, I just thought…”
“No need to be apologetic, Celestia,” Clover said. “Good impressions are important, extremely so in your case. But you need not worry about me. Your impression upon me is the best you shall make on anypony.”
Celestia was not sure what she meant. “Thank you,” she murmured, as if voicing the response to a question she did not know the answer to.
The room was lit with Clover’s magical lanterns. The enormous telescope in the center was collapsed into itself, and the roof was sealed, closed to the open air.
“Come,” Clover motioned, starting a slow walk towards a small door. “We can do better than these dreary chambers.”
Celestia followed after her, but kept a respectful distance. After a moment of walking, Clover turned back.
“Well, are you coming?” she asked, almost impatient. Celestia quickly nodded, and closed the distance between them. Together, they exited the tower, and stepped onto a modest balcony. It had two chairs and a couch, with a small table between them. On the table stood a kettle of tea, a wavering line of steam rising from the spout. Near the end of the balcony and sitting before the stone railing was a large spyglass, firmly mounted onto a tripod that was secured to the ground. It was a dark blue and set in a neat gold trim. The telescope was not ornate or decorated, but it did give the impression of high quality.
“Do you like it?” Clover asked proudly, noticing Celestia’s interest in the spyglass. “The Farsight Telescope, it’s called. I enchanted it myself. It can scry any location or anypony for miles. If you focus on a place, or a pony, and say their name, depending on their distance, you can view them with fairly decent clarity.”
Celestia approached it cautiously, and nudged it with a hoof. It swiveled on its tripod.
“You may try it, if you like,” Clover said, settling into a comfortable chair and pouring herself a cup of tea.
Celestia peered through it. There was no image, but rather a blackness, as if there was a lens cap on the other side. She checked. There was not.
Clover took a sip of tea. “No, my dear,” she instructed. “You must speak a name, first.”
Celestia took only a moment before she said a name, the first one that came to mind.
“Cotton Cake,” she declared, unsure if the telescope needed to be spoken to loudly. Apparently, it worked, as it swiveled around and pointed back towards the tower. Celestia moved to the other side of it, and squinted through it. She peered through sky and stone, and sure enough, she saw Cotton, playing a game of catch with Crumble. Where the red bouncy ball had come from, she had no idea. Crumble calmly tossed it to Cotton, who caught it with a whirlwind of magic, spinning it around a singularity of telekinesis. After a few revolutions, she released it, letting it fly in a beeline towards Crumble. It was much too fast to catch, and the ball hit the armored pegasus square in the face. Celestia peered another moment to catch Cotton’s expression of guilty concern, and Crumble’s good-natured, laughing response, before looking back towards Clover.
“That’s incredible,” Celestia said with genuine awe.
“Indeed it is,” Clover said, firmly aware of her own accomplishments. “But my magical ability is nothing, nothing, compared to your potential.”
Celestia blinked. Did she hear that correctly?
“What do you mean?” she inquired. “My magic is… well, it’s fairly poor.”
“I said your potential,” Clover patiently responded, “not your magic. Why don’t you have a seat?” She motioned to the chair opposite of her.
Celestia nodded, and sat down.
“Tea?” Celestia asked, shifting to get comfortable in her seat.
“Oh yes, dear,” Clover said, taking a sip. “I always prepare tea for my guests and students. It soothes the nerves, calms the senses, serves as a pleasant distraction.” She magically poured Celestia a cup.
“Plus,” she added, taking another sip, “it is tradition.”
“You have students?” Celestia politely inquired, taking a small drink herself. “Oh, this is good…” she muttered, after tasting the hot liquid.
“I used to,” Clover reminisced, “I have long since retired from teaching young magicians. I mostly aid in running the affairs of the Royal Magi. The late Adepts considered themselves my students, even though I never regularly taught them. Though, recent events have made me reconsider… I may yet have room for one more pupil…” She contemplatively tapped her hoof on the arm of her chair. “And I’m glad you think so,” she added, in reference to the tea.
“So what was this about my… potential?” Celestia asked.
Clover drank her tea, almost as if she did not hear her. After a half minute of tense, thoughtful silence, she set her cup down, and addressed Celestia.
“Your origin, Celestia, is somewhat… abnormal.”
The word “origin” made Celestia’s heart skip a beat. She leaned closer, listening with captivated intent.
“Do you know of the Maiden’s Battalion?” Clover asked.
Celestia nodded.
“Then you know three and a half months ago, Daylight, the Commander of the 21st, the Maid of Canterlot, was slain.”
“Yes, I do,” Celestia confirmed. “Lucky told me.”
Clover slowly nodded to herself. “Yes,” she murmured, “Of course he did.” She took a deep, rattling breath.
“Celestia,” she began, “You must understand something. Commander Daylight was an extremely important pony. She was the most successful military leader in ages. Certainly the most successful I have seen in my days. Her tactics and strategies were destined to constant success. Even in the face of hopeless odds, the gods seemed to favor her with the utmost of… luck. The loss of that brave pony was a grave loss indeed.”
“I do not doubt it,” Celestia said respectfully, “And I do not belittle her sacrifice, but surely there are others like her? A commander may be replaced. Right?”
“Interesting question. Are there others like her? Perhaps. But if there are, they have yet to make themselves known.”
Suddenly, a weatherpony flew by, passing only yards away from their balcony. It was close enough to feel the wind trailing from his wings. A startled Celestia nearly tipped over in her chair trying to wrap her black cloak around her wings.
“Peace, my dear,” Clover said calmly. “They cannot see us.”
“What?” Celestia exclaimed, still frantically trying to conceal herself. “He flew right past us!”
“There is an enchantment around the balcony,” Clover assured. Her horn glowed, and a nearly transparent film of purple magic made itself known. It shimmered in an orb around them, and became invisible as quickly as it had appeared. “For privacy. The only way anypony could hear or see us is if they landed on the balcony itself. When that is the case, I grant you permission to panic as wildly as you please. Until then, be still.”
Celestia ceased thrashing with her cloak. “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.
“Quite sure,” Clover said. Celestia nodded, but kept her cloak surrounding her.
“Where was I? Oh yes, your question,” Clover continued. “As far as succession, the arrangements have already been made. In three days’ time, Lucky Break will become the new Commander of the 21st, and unless I am mistaken, he will call Apple Crumble to be his Lieutenant-Commander. In the same ceremony, the Second-Lieutenant will become the first to fill the hole, and the Third-Lieutenant will become the second to fill that hole. Lucky will then choose a pony to fill the Third-Lieutenant, most likely a pegasus to replace Crumble and keep the leadership balanced. Whatever captaincy that pegasus is pulled from will also be filled. Military succession is always very clear and concise, based around professional opinion and factual merit. So to answer your question: yes, a commander can be replaced.”
“So what is the problem?” Celestia asked.
“The problem, Celestia, is that Daylight was much, much more than a mere commander.”
Celestia was silent, but tilted her head in curiosity.
“The problem is that Daylight was a hero. Based upon merit alone, she was the best of the best, but ponies do not care for statistics. They do not read battle reports, and they do not cite numbers in daily conversation. Why would they? They have something better.” She took a sip of tea, and refilled her cup.
“They have stories.”
“Stories?” Celestia questioned.
“Indeed,” Clover replied. “Daylight’s deeds ascended into legend, and they took her right along with them. She unwittingly became a romantic icon, the very symbol of Equestrian might and heroism. She was everypony’s beloved idol, and I do mean everypony. Every aspiring foal wanted to be her, every ambitious noble wanted to meet her, every ailing soldier wanted to hear her speak an inspiring word. And oh, was she inspiring!”
Clover looked to the overcast sky, seeming to grasp at straws for an emotion that was just out of her reach. “Her acclaim was not the result of accident. Daylight’s unique talents propelled her towards it. She was strong, and skilled. She was a good soldier. She was altruistic. She was certainly pretty, and very charismatic. But all of these things fall by the wayside. Ask anypony what they remember of Daylight. The person, not the legend. Ask them that, and they will tell you: ‘I remember her voice.’”
“Her… voice?” Celestia asked.
“Yes. Or perhaps, ‘I remember her heart.’ Or ‘I remember her spirit.’ Daylight’s power did not lie in the strength of her arm, or the cunning of her mind. Her strength was in her in exhilarating speeches, and brave actions. She served her country with fervency so great, it was impossible not to follow suit. Everything she did seemed to elevate the soul and lift the spirit, whether she was strategizing as a commander, fighting as a soldier, or serving as a citizen. After meeting her, no matter the circumstance, it was impossible to leave without a sense of purpose and patriotism.”
Clover fell silent, recalling a specific memory. “Indeed… she even managed to shake these old bones of mine a time or two.” She shook her head.
“In the name of the ponies she loved, and that loved her in return, she gave everything to her country. How could it be any other way? The fire in which her legend was forged was the very same fire in which her legend was undone. Her determination and exemplary altruism became her undoing, leading to her death in battle.
“Imagine the confusion. Imagine the horror. Heroes don’t die. That’s what makes them heroes, or so ponies think. If Discord is a demon, then Daylight was undoubtedly his angelic counterpart. And yet, here was their angel, fallen and slain, bleeding like a common mortal.”
“But wait,” Celestia interrupted. “Soldiers die all the time. Daylight made a heroic sacrifice. She died a martyr. Is that not the most inspirational act of all?”
“Excellent observation,” Clover remarked. “Some ponies saw it as that, the last testament to her glorious tale. But many more ponies saw only a tragic death. It would be as if I were telling you a story, and the protagonist died halfway through. Not everypony has the insight to see the poeticism that can only be read in between the lines. When the Battalion returned to Canterlot, carrying Daylight’s casket on their shoulders, despair gripped the nation. The day of that sad march was the day that ponies learned a terrible truth. Even angels can bleed.”
There was a long silence, as they both contemplated what had been said. Celestia finished her tea, and poured herself a second cup. Eventually, she spoke up.
“What does this have to do with me?” she asked, taking a drink.
“More than you might think, Celestia,” Clover said. “You, my dear, are Equestria’s bold new hero.”
Celestia stopped cold.
“I’m… I’m your new… what?” she stuttered, setting the cup down.
“You are our new hero,” Clover repeated. “If you so choose.”
“I’m… but you… I don’t understand,” Celestia cried. “How can I be a hero?”
“We will make you one,” Clover began. “Lucky thought of you as a tool, a weapon, as you so clearly heard him say. You ran, and afterwards, I convinced him otherwise. At least, I would hope so.”
“And what… what exactly did you convince him of?” Celestia asked incredulously.
“That you are a pony! A mare with feelings and fears!” Clover said. “Lucky and I both seek to end the war. He thought you to be a weapon to be used and kept sharp, but he’s wrong. A soulless weapon cannot inspire.”
“…cannot inspire…” Celestia mumbled. “Am I… a… am I a replacement, then? For this slain hero of yours?” There was silence. “Where did I come from?”
Clover did not answer for a long time, choosing her next words very carefully. Behind Clover, Celestia saw a red ball go sailing out of an open window, falling all the way to the castle grounds below. Cotton’s head appeared out of the same window, her expression frustrated and disappointed. She caught Celestia looking at her, and waved a happy greeting, before retreating back behind the window and shutting it emphatically.
“You were summoned.”
Celestia looked back at Clover.
“What?” she asked, unsure of what Clover meant, or if she even heard her correctly.
“Summoned,” she repeated. “At the behest of the Thirteen Adepts, under the highest orders of the Arch-Mage, and with the approval of myself, their Master, you were brought to this world through intense magic.”
Celestia was confused and dumbfounded. “I… I don’t…”
“After extensive research, we discovered a spell. Well, I should say, I discovered a spell. It had a most intricate pattern of magic and required a massive amount of energy, but any hardships that could be endured were well worth it, because the result of this particular sorcery was the summoning of an alicorn. I knew the truth about alicorns. We all did. At least, all the truth there is to know. We knew that the alicorns were not inherently evil. We also knew that alicorns were extraordinarily powerful.”
Celestia was speechless. Her mouth stuttered silent vowels, but did not form audible, coherent sentences.
“We were losing the war, Celestia. We still are. The thought of alicorn soldiers was very tempting for many. I reported my findings to the Arch-Mage, who reported it to the hierarchy. They demanded I perform such a spell immediately. I was hesitant to do so, but they were very insistent. The Arch-Mage and I tried several times to make it work, but each time we were met with… failure. I realized my own power was not enough. Performing, and subsequently failing, the spell so many times left me weak.
“So, we taught it to my students, the Adepts. They modified the spell so that multiple mages could participate, and set off to meet in Canterbury. Together, they would summon an alicorn.
“But somehow, Discord knew.” Clover’s expression took on a dark, almost angry look. “He sent his hordes to stop them. It was important enough that Discord himself appeared, wanting to make sure the job was done. He destroyed the entire town, killed Lieutenant Break’s small guard, and, in one fell swoop, he killed every single one of my Adepts. Only three ponies escaped from the carnage: you, Lucky Break, and Arch-Mage Midnight Shimmer.”
Celestia suddenly recalled visions of first memory. Midnight Shimmer was one of the Magi that stayed to defend her, but not the only one.
“She made it back to Canterlot, and told me what had happened, unaware of your survival. Now, she’s in seclusion. I do not know why, only that she’s engaged in ‘an effort of extreme importance to the war.’”
There was a long silence, as Clover gauged Celestia’s reaction. She sat, her face constantly shifting between confusion, to comprehension, to unhappiness.
“So, I’m…” she began, but shook her head, and started over. “So I’ve been summoned.”
“Yes.”
“Created.”
“No. Your essence, a presence that was uniquely you, was pulled from the cosmos, bound to fill a space in the material plane.”
Celestia sighed. That made absolutely no sense to her. “Do I have a past? I seem to know things, common knowledge and locations. I know how to speak, but not how to fly. I feel like… like I’m out of my own body. Oh, that makes no sense…”
“No, I understand. If you have any sort of previous experience, it is unbeknownst to me,” Clover mused. “Perhaps you do. In any case, you certainly have a future.”
“Do you plan to… to ‘summon’ more like me?” Celestia asked.
“We did,” Clover said, “but as of now, it is impossible. The spell is incredibly complicated and difficult to learn. Even after you are taught, it requires massive amounts of power and concentration. There are certainly powerful unicorns in Equestria. Were that the only requirement, I could easily find enough suitable candidates from the Maiden’s Battalion alone. But the kind of concentration required is something that very few ponies possess, something that is learned over decades of practice. Battle spells are wild and fierce. The summoning spell is very, very focused.”
“So… you cannot?” Celestia asked, seeking confirmation.
“With my Adepts gone, the only two able unicorns I can think of are myself, and the Arch-Mage. Our combined efforts would not be enough. I do not have the decades of time I would need to teach another unicorn the proper balance. I doubt I even have decades left to live. So no, we cannot.”
“I see…” Celestia murmured, trailing off into thought. “I was summoned…”
Clover saw the despair in her eyes, and spoke up.
“This revelation does not undo you, Celestia. Do not let it. You are no less tangible than I. You have fears, doubts, hopes, and dreams, just like everypony else. You are a real pony.” She put emphasis on every word. “This is something I know, and is something I would thank you to not forget.”
“But it’s all fake!" Celestia burst. "This isn’t my real self! I was brought here by… by…” She searched frantically for the word. “By sorcery! And who knows what I was forced to leave behind! I could have friends, I could have family! I... I...”
She trailed off, grasping the arms of her chair, desperately considering what else she might have forgotten.
At this, Clover scowled. A second later, and she vanished in a flash of purple light, and reappeared behind Celestia, who jumped out of her seat in fright.
“Am I fake, Celestia?” Clover demanded.
“No, but-”
“Is my body manufactured? Is my soul artificial?”
“No! But it’s not the same-”
“Nonsense!” Clover cried. “It is exactly the same thing. I was brought here, to this spot, by magic. A sorcery of modified ruminatics. That does not condemn my existence to be a falsehood. Neither does it yours, Celestia.”
Clover teleported near her seat, and shuffled back into it. “You are a magical being, Celestia. In a way, all ponies are magical beings, even non-unicorns. Especially non-unicorns, in some cases. Being special does not,” she said firmly, pointing a shaking hoof at Celestia, “make you less than equal. You retain your right to laugh, smile, and be happy. Don’t you dare let Cotton’s lesson and hospitality go to waste.”
A knife of shame twisted in her gut, but she was too panicked and angry to let it stop her.
“What of my past? They tore me from it, without my say!” Celestia accused. She was speaking in reference to her summoners, but Clover knew by her tone that Celestia prescribed just as much guilt to her.
“A judge does not assign blame until he knows the full trial,” Clover calmly said. “Do not accuse those whom you do not know to be guilty. We do not know if you have a past, and neither do you. Perhaps you do, perhaps you do not. In any case, they summoned you to save the lives of thousands. Would you hold a grudge for their intention?”
Celestia’s ears flattened, and she lowered her head in guilt. She relaxed back into her chair.
“If I have no past, then maybe I really am…” she paused, hesitant to say it.
Clover sighed. Would she not learn? “You are not fake, and you are not inferior. Many ponies will try to convince you of your inferiority. In the upcoming meeting, they will no doubt treat you as such. If you believe that before you even enter the courtroom doors, then you have already lost.”
Celestia took a deep sigh. Clover thought she might cry, and was surprised and impressed when she raised her head, sad determination in her eyes.
“I just… I know not what to do,” she quietly admitted. “Is that my sole purpose? To be your hero?”
“Your purpose,” the Master-Adept gently countered, “is whatever you wish it to be. Should you decide to help us, the road will be rough, but you will always have friends along the way. You would forge a legend, but you would not forge it alone. However, you are allowed to decline, and neither I nor anypony else will bear a grudge for it. An unwilling aide is hardly effective, and a soldier without purpose is no soldier at all.”
“But who am I to say no?” Celestia said. “What other choice do I have?”
“Who are you? My dear, you are Celestia,” Clover asserted, “and you have all the choice in the world.”
Celestia pondered, blankly staring at the dying wisps of steam rising from her tea. You have all the choice in the world. She certainly did not feel that way. Technically, it was true, in the same way that she had the choice to jump from the balcony and die upon the stone below. She was expected to fight. She was summoned for it. The Master-Adept wanted her to, and after properly learning of her existence, the whole of Equestria would as well. Even Lucky Break, in his own way, had affirmed and reduced her existence to that of a mere weapon.
And what if she chose not to fight? What then? Celestia could imagine with frightening clarity what would happen then. She would be treated the same way she had been treated before. An alicorn, a monster, who refused to even try and redeem her horrid nature by doing good deeds. They would consider her all the more monstrous for it. The Adepts’ sacrifice would have been in vain, and the blame would rest squarely on her shoulders.
Still, as Clover had said, an unwilling aide was hardly effective. Celestia was not unwilling, but she certainly was not excited about her options. Her gaze shifted back into focus as she settled uncomfortably in her chair. Her tea was no longer steaming, she realized. She did not lift her gaze from it.
Clover sensed her indecision.
“It is your choice,” she added, “Fight, or don’t. I will admit, though, we need all the willing hooves we can find, if we are to stop Discord.”
Celestia thought it was strangely out of place, the way Clover said it. She was right, though. Discord was powerful, deadly, and willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goal. His evil had claimed the lives and sanity of so many innocent ponies. Celestia supposed, then, that she could understand how ponies would take such drastic measures. Would she not also be ‘drastic’, were her family or friends taken from her?
And why, then, should she not be the same? Powerful! Deadly! Willing! Discord needed to be punished for his crimes. Revenge must be taken. A vein pulsed in her temple, and suddenly, the comment did not seem so out of place after all. Of course they needed willing hooves! How could they not, when so much was on the line? When the need was great, and the retribution was so very necessary!
Hatred.
“Celestia...”
Hatred.
“Celestia!”
Celestia’s gaze quickly lifted from her cup. “Huh?”
Clover leaned forward in her chair, half in concern, half in what seemed to be readiness. Ready for what? Celestia’s lungs heaved in and out. She realized she was out of breath. That was strange.
“Are you okay?” Clover asked, still frozen in her anxious posture.
Celestia adopted a strange, introspective expression, and leaned back, realizing she too was posed much the same way. “Yes, of course,” she breathed slowly.
Clover, only partially convinced, slowly leaned back in her chair, keeping a wary eye on her company. Celestia did not like it, but said nothing about it.
She grabbed her teacup, and slowly raised it to her lips. Her hooves were shaking, only enough for her to notice. She took a sip of tea. It was boiling hot, and burned her tongue. She set it back down, and cleared her throat, facing fully forward to address Clover.
“I will fight.”
**********
“Where did yeh get this thing, anyways?” Apple Crumble asked, shaking his head after being hit in the face.
Cotton looked from Crumble, to the bright red ball, and back. After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged.
“I don’t know!” she blithely declared, and tossed it back to Crumble.
“Eh course yeh don’t…” he murmured, catching it with a hoof. It was unprofessional, playing ball on castle grounds with a civilian, all while dressed in official armor. At the moment, he did not care. His guard was dressed in civilian clothing, their mission was technically off the record, and besides, acting the part of the gruff Lieutenant all the time was tiring. What better time to break that act than now? And who better to do that than with than Cotton?
He looked around, and realized his disguised guards were pursuing similar activities. A pair of them were playfully boxing, some were playing cards, and one was drawing on a piece of parchment with a charcoal pencil. It seemed to unnerve the observatory sentinels, who were on-duty and unused to seeing so many ponies out of official attire, especially in a place that did not receive much traffic.
“Catch!” Crumble yelled, bouncing the ball off of the floor and in the direction of Cotton. She deftly returned it. He caught it, and did the same. It went back and forth, each throw more creative than the last. Crumble began to use his wings to fly up and bounce it off the ceiling, while Cotton used her magic to throw unpredictable curveballs.
“Oh, hello Mister Break!” Cotton happily greeted. Crumble’s hoof had just barely released the ball, and sent it towards Cotton, who turned to make a last second catch.
“Cotton,” Lucky Break acknowledged.
Crumble swiveled in mid-air to view Lucky, still stepping off of the spiral staircase to the top floor. The guards immediately stopped their diversions, and the room fell deathly silent. In any other case, they would have drawn weapons and demanded the visitor to leave. This, however, was a high ranking officer. Technically, they were under orders to remove anypony not part of the mission from the area, but this was the stallion that would be their commander in less than a week. Nopony wanted to lose his favor.
Apple Crumble did not share that sentiment.
“Lucky Break,” he said, landing with a thud directly in front of the intruder, stopping his progress. His stature was imposing, and his wide wings were spread in an aggressive screen. “I’m under orders to keep a secure premises. Very important ponies only. If yeh’d be so kind as to remove yourself, ‘fore I resort to force.”
“Crumble,” Lucky said quietly. “Are we not friends?”
“Yeh’re impedin’ an important, highly classified operation,” Crumble boldly declared in response.
Lucky cast a flat, doubtful glance at the room, ending on a table covered in face down cards. He caught sight of one of the guards replacing one of his cards while everypony’s attention was away. “Highly classified, huh?”
Crumble irately growled. “What’re yeh doin’ here, lad? There’s nothin’ for yeh. That poor mare doesn’ need more of yeh’re grief.”
“I’m here to apologize.”
“’Less yer here to apologize, I suggest yeh… er, what?”
“I’m here to apologize,” Lucky repeated, slipping past Crumble’s block in his brief moment of surprise.
“Am… I s’posed to believe that?” he asked suspiciously, readjusting his position to again impede Lucky.
“I hope so,” Lucky said, “Otherwise I’m missing my meeting with the Chancellor Cookie for nothing.” He shuffled around Crumble, and walked to an open window.
“Lucky,” Crumble said, walking alongside him, lowering his voice to a grumbling whisper, “do yeh really want to apologize?”
“Come on, Crumble,” Lucky said, “Don't you trust me?”
Crumble growled dangerously. “Lucky…”
“Yes, yes, I really do,” he quickly said.
“Aw, it’s okay, Apple!” Cotton said, seeking to lighten the mood. “He can wait with us! Here, Mister Lucky, catch!”
She tossed the ball into the air in front of her, spun it up in a twister of kinesis, and sent it rocketing towards Lucky, who she did not realize was facing the wrong direction. Looking out of the window and away from her, it was bound to hit him in the head.
Cotton barely had time to cringe before Lucky quickly tilted his head to one side. The ball missed him completely, and flew out of the open window.
“My ball!” Cotton cried, scrambling to the window. She pushed both Lucky and Crumble away, and peered out and down. It had fallen too far to catch with magic. She scowled. To her side, she looked to see Celestia, giving her an odd expression. She waved and smiled, before retreating back inside.
“You were supposed to catch it, Lucky!” Cotton exclaimed. “That’s it. You have to leave, very important ponies only.”
“Please,” Lucky began, addressing everypony, but Crumble in particular. “Please, let me stay. I must have words with Celestia, and now is the only time I can do so before the council meeting. I admit I may have been…” He pawed at the ground with a forehoof and looked away, struggling to find the right word. “Harsh.”
Crumble raised an eyebrow. “Lucky,” he whispered, “even if I let yeh stay, do yeh think this is a good idea? She’s had quite enough hardship. She may not even listen to yeh.”
“I have to try,” Lucky said.
“Really?” Crumble skeptically asked.
“Yes, really.”
“Very well…” Crumble murmured. “But I’m staying righ’ here to make sure yeh give a proper apology. An’ if she don’t want to listen, if she wants to walk righ’ past yeh with ‘er nose in the air, then you gotta let ‘er. Got that?”
“Yes,” he said simply, nodding in consent.
“And no funny business,” Crumble added.
“Of course,” he agreed. Crumble eyed him suspiciously, before giving a defeated grunt and walking away. In all sincerity, Lucky did not plan on doing anything but apologizing. What exactly that apology would sound like, he was unsure. He supposed it did not help that his heart was not one hundred percent behind the notion of doing so.
Cotton tried to engage Lucky and Crumble in another game. Neither of them were in the mood.
**********
The doors swung open. Celestia strode out, pleasantly chatting with Clover. The two of them stopped cold when they saw Lucky, standing squarely in the center of the lobby. Immediately, the Master-Adept adopted an irate expression.
“Guards,” she said, calmly but with clear animosity, “Remove this pony from my tower at once.”
The two sentinels, tired of the chaos that had happened in their normally quiet tower, were happy to oblige. They made a motion towards him, weapons ready to be drawn.
“Wait. Wait!” Lucky said. The guards did not stop. “I have something to say, and after, you can throw me in the dungeon if you like!”
The guards kept advancing, and pushed Lucky back. He did not plead further, except with the anxiety in his eyes. They were almost to the staircase, when Celestia cried out.
“Hold there!” she exclaimed. Clover looked at Celestia, who returned with a distressed but curious expression. She had thought Lucky was the last person she wanted to see, but now that he was here…
Clover sighed, and made a quick motion with her hoof. The disappointed sentinels backed away slightly.
Lucky shoved them back, and approached Celestia and Clover with caution. He was very aware of Apple Crumble, whose stare seemed to drill into his skull from behind.
“That’s far enough,” Clover said after he was a small distance away. Lucky immediately stopped where he was. There was a silence, as Lucky waited for permission to speak.
“Speak, then,” Clover curtly granted.
Lucky cleared his throat. “Clover… Celestia. Good evening.”
They said nothing. Clover looked down on him with an air of contempt, while Celestia held only cautious curiosity.
“I came here to… Well, I wanted to say…” Lucky’s gaze nervously shifted as he searched for the right words. “It is fairly obvious, I suppose, but… I… I’m sorry, Celestia.” Lucky took a deep, apologetic bow, his eyes down and nose to the floor.
Clover’s gaze immediately shifted from contempt to surprise.
“I was wrong, and I misjudged you. A… recent occurrence had left me blinded by grief. It left my anger blinded as well, and I unjustly directed it towards you. Would that I could unsay those words…” he closed his eyes, and briefly shook his head.
“I hope my goals and intentions are plain,” he continued, “I wish to end Discord’s tyranny more than anypony alive. It was my intention to enlist your aid, but now, I fear the only favor I may ask of you is forgiveness.” He rose from his bow, and looked Celestia straight in the eye. “Celestia, will you forgive my foalishness?”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long minute, Celestia searching for sincerity, and Lucky searching for an answer. Finally, Celestia broke their gaze and looked shyly towards the ground.
“Yes,” she meekly said.
The room was quiet. Lucky wished for the silence to end, and yet it seemed to form a muffling gag. Speaking through it was nearly impossible. Eventually, he was able to.
“Thank you,” he uncomfortably replied. After another pause, he added, “That is all.” Lucky turned away, and walked towards the exit, solitarily descending down the long spiral staircase.
**********
“So, that’s how it happened?” Twilight Sparkle asked, ceasing her note-taking. She eyed her teacher in wonder.
“How what happened?” Celestia asked.
“That!” Twilight cried, as if it should have been obvious. “You! All of this!” She waved her hooves nonspecifically in the air. “That spell is how you were born!”
After she said it, Twilight immediately withdrew. She knew she was not treating the subject with the respect or reverence it deserved. Her curiosity was a problem, sometimes. As they say, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, curiosity got the cat banished and put in a dungeon in the place it got banished to.
“Well, yes,” Celestia slowly said. Twilight, a furious blush on her face, buried herself in her papers and took a few more notes. “You could say that.”
Twilight’s quill stopped. “What do you mean?” she quietly asked.
“I mean,” Princess Celestia said patiently, “it didn’t happen how Clover the Clever said. She lied to me.”
“Lied to you?” Twilight repeated dumbly. It was strange, outlandish even. One did not simply accuse a founder of Equestria to be a liar. Twilight knew that actual information on the foundation was scarce, but she also knew that Clover was good, and lying was bad. Clover the Clever could not be both a good pony, and also a liar. It simply did not make sense. In the mind of a pony who held Clover the Clever in the absolute highest regard, both as a historical figure and a personal hero, the two concepts could not be forced to reconcile.
“Indeed, she did, and I do not blame her for it,” Celestia said, seeming to read her pupil’s thoughts.
“But why?” Twilight asked, desperate for an explanation. Her innocent expression was, to Celestia, endearing. It was the expression of a filly who had just learned that many of her foalhood fancies were mere stories, fabricated and told by scheming adults.
“Because,” the Princess said, “that was what I needed to hear.” Her tone was contemplative, as if she too were wondering why it was necessary. Nevertheless, she continued.
“She told me the public story, the one that everypony else would eventually be told. At the time, I imagine the truth would have been too hard to bear, both for the public, and for me personally. Not to say Clover was out to completely deceive me. In fact, much of what she told me was the truth. But the best lies are truths, just sprinkled with deception. I had no reason to believe otherwise, and I didn’t learn the whole truth till much later.”
Twilight, for the first time, had no idea what to write. It was a lie, but it was not, but it everybody believed it, but it was only the public story, but it was necessary, and where did Cotton get that ball? Her thoughts, she realized, were becoming somewhat scrambled. She eventually just circled her notes on the Princess’ meeting with Clover, and put a large question mark.
“Had I been told the full truth,” Celestia continued, “I wouldn’t have been nearly as confident in myself. Had the full truth been revealed to the public, well…”
She took a sip of tea. It was delicious, the unique recipe just as perfect as it had been over a thousand years ago. The Princess set her cup down.
“I expect my day in the courtroom would have been even more unpleasant.”
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Fear not, faithful readers, for Moose and I have devised a phrase to satisfy all your shipping needs!
CottonXCelstia abbreviates to CXC.
Um, whoever does the pre-reading on this:
Clover says in the chapter that she is not the Arch-Mage. Yet, the descriptor text refers to her as the Arch-Mage twice that I can see. You may wish to address this.
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Don't look at me, I'm just the zombie editor.
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Derp, we'll get that fixed pronto. Thanks for pointing it out.
My only gripe, is that I have to wait for more chapters, well done!
Edit: I have an hypothesis on Celestia's true origins, but I''m hesitant to reveal it in case I'm right.
Celestia's near-irrational hatred of Discord is awfully suspicious. I'm sure that ties in with the truth of her origin, and that's all I'll say.
I love this story, I don't care if it's not as "formal" as you wished it to be. It's still an awesome read, and I love reading it (duh)
And also... About Celestia's true origins... Some variant of... errm... *anagram'd* cymancrone? Eh?
827748
>Some variant of... errm... *anagram'd* cymancrone? Eh?
hahahaha,oh you
But yeah,I'm thinking the same thing s now.
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C'mon, guys! What do I even pay you for?
Anyways, it's fixed.
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I actually try and write Crumble with more of a "Hagrid"-type accent. But hey, accents change over 1000 years. You never know...
"Yer an alicorn, Celestia."
"I'm a what?"
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(Courtesy of Cheesedork)
827748
Yeah I was thinking it was something along those lines, though Clover's lie was plausible enough to make me believe I was wrong. Funny, I was going to use the same exact word to be vague about it, too.
Awesome chapter! Somehow, I doubt that Lucky's apology was entirely sincere. I kinda love him though ^^.
I kinda want to know who the teal unicorn princess was, anyone remember her?
I thought that celestia is the reincarnated version of the maiden who lucky loved (and she felt the same, hence him being devastated about not knowing who he was at the beginning and why she is so hurt by his words etc), just my theory anyway
Cotton =
's ancestor.
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I... actually sort of expected that. I figured at first somepony (someone Lucky knew and had a direct relationship with) had volunteered to sacrifice themselves to bring back a "goddess", then it switched to "bring back a very powerful type of pony", and then I figured that it was his commander who made the sacrifice, but then I learned she died before hand but by then the leap to "Reanimate dead hero with immortal alicorn soul with a bit of physical transformation to make the creation more powerful" was not far away. I was going to keep this to myself so everyone's "OMG Celestia's an undead war hero!" reaction wouldn't be defused before they had it but you just basically gave it away.
I believe there are still a few other possibilities like a blood/soul sacrifice/exchange or maybe the resurrection of an alicorn corpse but the line "but she's your..." at the start of the story before Lucky reprimands a mage and says it doesn't matter who she was/is and his attempts at seeing if she remembered him (much less her responses) lead me to believe that at least some part of her was once someone he knew and cared for before the spell but is now someone else and he has to deal with that even though I get the feeling he knew he would have to before hand. I also think her innate hate of discord is either born of her previous incarnation's hate or her own hate of his disfigurement of her race in to what I believe are now sinisteeds.
NOTE: if you feel this is a little to spoilery, just delete it. I have no qualms with it.
I agree with Starfield in that Celestia is actually Daylight summoned/reborn. There's also Daylight's cutie mark: A half sun. Celestia: Full sun. Both mares are white in color.
Odd, don't you think?
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Nah, I won't delete it. I always appreciate fan theories!
(Also, good Mr. Keanu there is simply joking. I haven't confirmed [or denied] anything.)
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Actually, I don't think Daylight's physical appearance was ever described, except for her cutie mark. Correct me if I'm wrong, though!
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Is this the right moment to spoil the giant pony robot battles you have planned for the next chapter?
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Dude! I can't believe you just said that.
*sigh* Alright, everyone, the truth is out. Celestia is secretly a Power Ranger.
I've really been enjoying this. Thanks for the good read! Looking forward to the next chapter. xD
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Thank you for reading! I'm looking forward to its continuation!
445107 damn that is an amazing analogy
Sincerely the Doctor
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It's my way of begging for comments.
Which, by the way, you have followed through with splendidly.
Thank you!
Even more?
That... doesn't bode well.
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I'm not sure who that is. Do tell!
It hasn't update yet because I forgot to comment on chapter 11, that's the reason, right? <.<
Well, alas! I am here, we can get this show on the road!..literally...I've clicked on my bookmark for this fanfic 5 times in the last half an hour. Not sure why, but I have..
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Of course, you silly pony! Now that you've commented, I can finally get to work!
Nah, I'll be honest: because it's the week of the 4th of July, I've been doing a lot of goofing off with buddies, since I have work off and so do they. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and I'm slipping back into routine. The next chapter is about... oh, halfway done, I'd say. I predict an update in the next couple of days.
Thanks for waiting! I'll be quick, I Pinkie-promise!
How did Cotton see Celestia if there was a spell making them invisible??????????? le gasp!
Was her Cotton sense twitching???
Welp, Lucky's on some serious thin ice in my book. It's funny, he was pretty decent before, now he's just a jerk.
You have made a good character
(Still don't like him...)
Anyway, we now have the Element of Laughter introduced, we just need, what, five more? This is going to get interesting, real interesting. And to go along with what others are speculating, yeah, I'm pretty sure Daylight had some major role to play in the "summoning" of Celestia. Most likely the plan was to re-animate her with the power and might of an alicorn, or just create an alicorn with her spirit.
As for Clover... she's alright...
Don't get me wrong, she's kind, yes, but that spot she put Celestia in was downright cruel. She knew damn well that Celestia would choose to fight, what else did she have? The hate of an entire pony race (minus one or two)? It really wasn't even a fair choice. It was either "become the hero we need and want" or "be ridiculed and hated for all your life" . Yes, great options, way to try and sugar coat it like you actually have a decision to make
Ugh... Aside from that, it was a pretty good chapter! Cotton was just great fun, and she is definitely a supplier of many adorable moments - and many hilarious ones - but that is to be expected. I can't wait to see who the other elements will be.
And yes, my theory is that the elements of harmony will be gathered and discovered. We know they play a part of defeating discord, and we already have pretty much a perfect pony to fit the role of laughter. I may be wrong, but it seems that way so far...
Next chapter
"Folks need heroes Chief...
...give them hope..."
I wonder why they never cover the alicorns in the show. Honestly, I think the kids would love it. Then again, my childhood consisted of Calvin and Hobbes, Legos, a variety of 80's commercials, and being in a weird family.
So (the official word is) they hoped to make an army of Alicorns, but due to sabotage they only have one?
Celestia is Captain America!
Awesome chapter, one minor inconsistency though:
"There is an enchantment around the balcony,” Clover assured. Her horn glowed, and a nearly transparent film of purple magic made itself known. It shimmered in an orb around them, and became invisible as quickly as it had appeared. “For privacy. The only way anypony could hear or see us is if they landed on the balcony itself."
Then later...
"Behind Clover, Celestia saw a red ball go sailing out of an open window, falling all the way to the castle grounds below. Cotton’s head appeared out of the same window, her expression frustrated and disappointed. She caught Celestia looking at her, and waved a happy greeting, before retreating back behind the window and shutting it emphatically"
All in all one of the best fan fics, hell one of the best stories, I've ever read.
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In all honesty, that WAS an inconsistency on my part when I first wrote it. The reason it got through the editing process was because it looked/sounded like a joke (and was basically the editors just saying "Eh, it's Cotton, she does what she wants.")
My headcanon sense-make of this, though, is that Cotton was just guessing that they were there, even though she can't actually see anything. She knows she's either A: waving at nothing, in which case, nopony would be the wiser, or B: Waving at Celestia or Clover, both of which are ponies she knows. (And maybe she thinks it would be funny to make Clover wonder if she cast the spell properly.
)
But thanks for reading and commenting, dude! I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!
Awesome story. I read it 13 hours without any break but now too tired to read along. It's sooooooo good written
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Thirteen hours with no breaks? Thanks for reading, you crazy person!
Celestia is not the hero that Equestria deserves, but she's the hero that it needs.
Silly Tia. Don't you know somepony who knows what it's like to be different when you see her, and then she tells you the story of her unhappy fillyhood when everypony made fun of her because her magic was wonky?
It may be necessary to . . . dispose of the wind. It knows too much.
You did fine with Cream Sky. I bet you could do just as well as Cotton if you didn't have to deal with the ingrained fear of alicorns, like she doesn't. And that's not your fault.
That's rather black-and-white of you, Twilight. Surely you remember when Tia sent you to Ponyville and neglected to mention your true mission of gathering a group worthy of the Elements? Or when she invited you and your friends to the Gala and neglected to mention your true mission of ruining it? Or all the other times she's been less than honest in order to manipulate you? Is she a bad pony?
theticoegg,It's Cotton!All heck goes out the door when she's around!
Argh! I know I've heard that or something to that effect somewhere else. Dear Author, from where does it come?
Okay, now I have to know the truth!