Loyalty
The Patriot
by very trustworthy rodent
“…the source of all lyricism in intellectual man, envy.”
—Yukio Mishima
When Princess Luna was corrupted for the second time by the Nightmare, there was no question that her ultimate fate was sealed. Princess Celestia was sad but severe on this point.
Canterlot and its surrounding area were cleared, Ponyville included—their refuge was the derelict Everfree Palace, the Castle of the Two Sisters. Celestia spoke boldly to the crowd of escaped ponies and reassured them of their security. Her words were good consolation for the exhausted ponies but there was little in the way of comfort around them. A horror of misshapen clouds had gathered over the Canterlot cliffs like vultures and the Nightmare’s eternal moon took the sun’s place in the sky. Most of the ponies who remained in Canterlot were prisoners or defectors who choose to serve in Nightmare Moon’s new personal guard. The Elements of Harmony came to meet with Celestia after the other ponies were put to bed. They were to attack before dawn with a small band of volunteers and the escaped members of the Royal Guard. Those ponies slept only a few hours before Celestia woke them. They would have one last meal from the stockpile of rations and then embark on their infiltration of Canterlot Palace.
In that great ruined hall of Everfree Palace, the old throne still slouched there crudely in forest waste, Celestia told Twilight that she was to follow the other Elements only after Nightmare Moon’s guard had been eliminated. In an indignant moment, Twilight protested that she too could fight but it was Rainbow Dash who spoke up then and told her that she was a Princess and her survival was more important. The other bearers nodded as Twilight looked at each of them in surprise.
Celestia left to find herself some privacy. The Element bearers made fire, and there they ate and drank together. Despite her protestations, Twilight found a new admiration for her friends when they insisted on prioritizing her security; it was true selflessness that had moved Rainbow Dash to stop her from pushing to the front lines. She understood something that had taken Twilight many years to understand: that she was different from the other Elements, and not only because of the wings and the horn.
Yes, her friends had always known she was different, and so she was. Princess Twilight thought it was because she was a plotter. It was an peculiar notion of hers: she figured there were ponies who plotted and ponies who enacted those plots. History was written by ponies like her, plotters and schemers. When history needed a push, there was always a good plot there delineated in the pages of her books. Point to point to point. Coups, invasions, treaties, innovations, revolutions, deaths. Death was always last, but the plotter was never the one to die. The plotters always avoided the kind of deaths you heard about in songs and stories; they were the beacons and the beckoners, those who led the masses to their great and tragic ends.
She realised her true role after the second Changeling invasion. Unlike her first attempt, the desperate Chrysalis had no elaborate invasion plan—her forces simply bled into Canterlot society over a course of weeks until she was ready to launch an attack. Most of her agents took on lovers to feed the Hive. They were the first victims.
Twilight, now a Princess, was given an increased security detail and quickly found herself ushered into the Palace at Canterlot. Celestia made to fetch the Elements of Harmony as Twilight stood with her fellow bearers and the Royal Guard on the red carpet of the main foyer. It was there that she was told that she was not to do battle with the Changelings herself. As Princess, her friends would fight on her behalf.
“But Princess Celestia,” said Twilight, “what about the Element of Magic?”
“Oh, you will use it on Chrysalis if the time is right,” said Celestia, “but you will not fight the Changelings. The time for that has passed, Twilight. You are something different now.”
Twilight wanted to say that she was not, but she knew that was a lie. Where they wanted to work and fight, she was more comfortable organizing, commanding, observing. She had once supposed she was something lesser, for possessing purely theoretical rather than practical talent. She was no farmer, no seamstress, no flyer.
She was a plotter.
It went beyond Chrysalis. There was the wizard Van Vitae, whose face she never even saw before Rainbow Dash subdued him with force. The Crimson Claw—a paramilitary group of griffins obsessed with reclaiming lost territory from Equestria—were handily taken care of by the Guard under orders from Twilight and Celestia, and Twilight did not see combat. The poor Cakes would never forget the time when the Wispers came to Ponyville—a family of vengeful spirits from a mire with a bleak history—and were magicked away with Zecora’s rituals long before Twilight had suffered a haunting herself. She issued the commands now. She made order and preserved its rigid existence.
She was a plotter.
She had thought that Nightmare Moon might warrant an exception for the Element of Magic; after all, she was the very creature that had brought the Elements together. But no—if anything, there was a more potent danger in Nightmare Moon than in Van Vitae or The Crimson Claw or the Wispers all put together. How could Twilight have expected any less?
She was a plotter.
*****
“Why exactly did you make me an Alicorn?”
Celestia raised an intrigued eyebrow at the question. She and Twilight sat on velvet cushions before the hearth in Celestia’s private quarters. Winter blew against the great arched window with a muted moan. As usual, there was a serving of cake and cup of hot tea sitting before both ponies. Celestia’s choice today had been Victrotia Sponge and loose-leaf Haylon.
“Because I saw the potential in you, Twilight. You know that, surely. What prompted that question?” asked Celestia.
“Well,” began Twilight, “it was Rainbow Dash’s twenty-eighth birthday a fortnight ago. It just made me think about how my condition is so different to hers now. I’m really going to outlive her. I know I was your personal student, but I’m looking for something beyond that, I guess.”
Celestia nodded. “Well, I made you an Alicorn, Twilight, because you like tea.” She grinned at her friend’s incredulous expression.
“But lots of ponies like tea,” Twilight said. “What’s so special about me?”
Celestia let out a little chuckle. “Obviously, I’m being a little facetious. But what reason would you prefer, besides that I like and trust you?”
Twilight fluttered her wings in thought. “I don’t know exactly.”
“Tea is not a drink just for tasting, like a fruit juice,” said Celestia. “It’s far too bitter. Tea is like—hmm, how to put it? Like a musical accompaniment to the daily routine. Its aroma engages each of our senses, and it eases the mind to facilitate clarity of thought. Would our conversations here be the same without tea?”
Twilight looked into her half-full cup. Her reflection stared back, distorted among the warm brown tones. “No, they wouldn’t.”
“Then there you go.”
“Well, okay.”
Celestia’s familiar smile faded as she noticed Twilight’s contemplative frown and she reached out to touch Twilight’s side lightly. “Dear Twilight, forgive me for saying so, but you seem unusually quiet today. What is it that’s troubling you?”
“It’s just that I don’t understand why I get to be the Alicorn,” said Twilight, looking up to meet Celestia’s gaze. “I’m going to outlive all of them.”
Celestia’s smile returned, though it was gentler now. She rose to her hooves and moved over to Twilight’s cushion, dropping down and wrapping a wing protectively around her back. Twilight nuzzled her side.
“I understand, Twilight. No one is more aware of the transience of things than me,” said Celestia. “But would you prefer they were all Alicorns?”
“No,” said Twilight. “That seems wrong too.”
“I agree,” said Celestia. “I once struggled with these questions as well, you know, but there is a sense of duty, isn’t there? Things are how they are for reasons that perhaps ought not be disturbed.”
“But what are those reasons?” asked Twilight. “I guess you’ve thought about this more than me.”
Celestia’s big, warm eyes were pensive. “They say ponies like you and I will live forever. Do you know what forever is, or better yet, when forever is?
“I guess they’re saying that we’ll live an indefinite amount of time into the future,” said Twilight.
“And where is that time? Are we experiencing it?”
“No, I guess not” said Twilight. “We’re only experiencing the present. We never really reach it. The idea is that we just keep on living without end.”
“Exactly,” said Celestia. “But forget about forever for a moment. You’ve probably heard the expression ‘Live like there’s no tomorrow’ before. It’s a modern version of a very old sentiment. It’s easy to dismiss as a platitude but there’s quite a lot of truth hidden in it. After all, there really is no tomorrow until it actually arrives.”
“But you can assume it, can’t you?” said Twilight. “You can predict and plan. I mean first of all, if you keep waking up tomorrow instead of yesterday or a different day entirely, then you can reliably assume that there will be a tomorrow.”
Celestia laughed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean tomorrow exists. Or yesterday, for that matter. Or any moment of time but this one that we’re sharing here. It’s easy to lose sight of the reality—I know that too well. You’re like me, Twilight. You like to organise and quantify things, and you can't imagine a world where there is no more time to make plans.”
Twilight’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh, I’m so glad you said that! I’ve been thinking about it recently—that maybe it’s something about personalities. I’m a kind of ‘plotter’ type pony who always tries to quantify or narrativise everything, compared to ponies like Rainbow Dash, who just do things. I wondered if that had anything to do with it!”
“A plotter pony. Hehe.” Celestia nudged Twilight playfully. “That’s a sweet way of putting it.”
“Thank you!” There was confidence and certainty in Twilight’s voice now. “I was wondering too—do you ever feel kind of envious of ponies who work on your behalf? Who perform really great feats of action? I mean, you and I have both fought spirits and monsters, but fundamentally, you know—it’s not what your job is, or mine.”
Celestia took a moment to consider Twilight’s words. “Yes,” she said at length, “and no. I’m reconciled to my place in the world. I guess I’ve had more than enough time to do that. I think I know what you mean though.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not eternal, you know,” said Celestia. “I remember my foalhood—admittedly, it was over a thousand years ago, but I still wasn’t born at the beginning of time, if there were such a thing. The populace still calls me an eternal ruler because it’s a pleasing thought. Do you know why eternity is beautiful to ponies, Twilight?”
Twilight hmmed and hawed for a few seconds. “Maybe because it’s everything? It encompasses everything, that is. So it’s kind of awe-inspiring.”
“Exactly,” said Celestia. “Eternity isn’t long at all. It means I’d occupy all time that exists, and therefore occupy it all at once. It’s beautiful not only because I will always be here, but instead because I am always here, no matter where—or rather, when—you are. Clearly, that isn’t really the case. I can be no more certain of the future than any other pony. I am just here in the now, with you.”
“Okay,” said Twilight, “but what has this got to do with being an Alicorn? If you can make ponies like me Alicorns, why isn’t everypony an Alicorn? Is it just because they have the wrong personalities? What would happen if everypony were immortal?”
Celestia laughed again. “I’m getting to that.” Twilight nodded briskly and she continued. “Yes, your personality was an important factor, but beyond that—well, it’s a little secret notion of mine that would earn me censure if I went public with it. It goes without say that you and I, not to mention Luna, will live for a long time. Longer than either of us might be able to comprehend. It’s a life of observance rather than action for the most part. You will see history as it progresses. There have been so many ideas—so many books, most of which you’ve probably read, hypothesizing about the forces that govern history.”
“Especially since the rise of enterprise in the last century,” said Twilight.
Even now, Twilight still was trying to show her how much she’d learned. Celestia smiled. “You’re very right, and a lot of those books contain plenty of valuable wisdom. Matters of political economy are of deep importance to those of us in Canterlot. There’s a danger though. For ponies like us—plotters, to use your word—it’s easy to become convinced of somepony’s vision of the future. Of course I would love to improve the condition of the ponies of Equestria, but I just can’t ascribe the beauty and dignity of ponykind to a world that does not exist. In the case of ponies who want to be Alicorns, who want immortality extended to themselves and to all their loved ones, I’d suggest that they are doing just that. They’re embracing a vision of the future that serves their ambitions—and who says those ambitions must be served, anyway? The universe doesn’t care if we suffer or flourish, if we live or die. Here’s my little secret—I believe that mortal ponies live nearer to true eternity than you or I do, because they will meet death.”
“Because they will meet death?” Twilight repeated breathlessly, her eyes wide.
“What is beauty, Twilight?” asked Celestia. “What immortalises a moment, fills it with vastness and splendor? What is the power that makes us humble, makes us work, makes us strong?”
Twilight rubbed her brow thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I don’t know exactly.”
“Think of the founding tale,” said Celestia. “A great war with the windigos brought ponies to their knees, and out of the ashes rose our nation. Why does this myth inspire pride? I can tell you: because the spirit of Equestria only emerged from the bruised and battered husk of ponykind. Equestrians aren’t proud merely that the idea of Equestria exists; they’re proud that blood was spilled for that idea, that the old power structures were upset and destroyed in violent conflict so that a new nation of ponies could take its place. That’s what death does. That’s the transience of things.”
“But it’s not good to die, is it?”
“Well, it’s not good to kill,” said Celestia. “I wouldn’t argue with that. But death doesn’t possess intent. We like to build analogies for death to engage our imaginations. A reaper with a robe and sickle. A ferrystallion carrying souls across the river. A spirit that shadows the sick and the elderly. This should be obvious, but that just isn’t true. Death is impersonal. The violence that brought the heroic founders of Equestria so near to death doesn’t even need to be personalised. In the annual play for foals, the windigo characters are rarely named. All that’s necessary for the idea of our nation to become divine, to become beautiful—apparently if not actually eternal—is its proximity to death itself. There we see the circle of life opened and the chance for eternity to emerge. Death makes ponies—larger than life.”
Twilight only nodded and bit her lip, so Celestia continued. “Nopony likes to die, but everypony needs to. Death is the worst and best thing to happen to anypony. You’ll see it yourself, I promise.”
*****
Twilight was surprised that the other Elements were so quick to accept the necessity of Nightmare Moon’s complete eradication. Was it out of agreement with Celestia, or deference to her? More importantly, did it truly matter?
The food was bland—grassy sandwiches and squishy old fruit. They drank water and a cup of wine each, except for Fluttershy, who refused the alcohol. Pinkie Pie told some stories about her stranger party guests—ponies who could walk in fire or swallow swords, deer and zebra from faraway lands. Rainbow Dash followed her lead with stories of her own about the Wonderbolts and her heroic antics. Some of the stories were familiar to Twilight, which made them all the more potent on that night. Laughter frightened the imminent danger into the darkness as the fire tossed her merry crackling head back and forth in the breeze. It was a fine exchange of old memories—some public, some private, all imbued with the warm ghosts of nostalgia. Each glad little tale and sweet little sigh restored their collective spirit, reconnected them to the immutable friendship that brought them together.
But the truth of their situation had to return, sure as the black kite returns after winter to disturb the summer sky. When the happy sounds fell away, there was nopony who wanted to speak, nopony willing to destroy that kind of unwilling peace. Rainbow Dash glanced at Twilight expectantly, and Twilight avoided her look. With a deep breath, Rainbow Dash tipped her cup back and gulped down the last of her wine. Somehow, all eyes turned to her, as if drawn by the movement. Dash saw their stares and ran one foreleg over her mane sheepishly, the rainbow waves shimmering eerily in the dark. Then, before anypony could speak, her small features twitched up as though something had occurred to her. She smiled and asked if anyone knew this one. The others shrugged and Pinkie invited her to continue. Dropping her cup, Rainbow Dash began to sing in clear, sharp voice, flushed and rosy to her neck.
Twilight recognised the song immediately: it was a folk war song from the Equestria’s Ten Years' War with Rushawk, over a century old now. The chant had fixed itself in the cultural consciousness, especially among pegasi. Twilight sang along with an encouraging grin to Rainbow, and soon Applejack and Pinkie were singing too, and then Rarity and Fluttershy, and some of the other ponies too, who came to the fire with hopeful looks. There was Cheerilee, with her honest eyes, and Big Mac in his cool stolidity, and even Derpy, grinning like she had just got Sapphire Shores’ autograph—all happy to know good company on that ragged night, to forget the rest of it and sublimate themselves in the joyful clarity of their togetherness.
Ponies, ponies, all arise
We take to land and take to sky
Glory to this sacred soil
Worked by hooves in mortal toil
Mortal hooves and mortal haft
Seize the call of glory’s craft
Morning steel and moonlight key
To foreign snow and foreign sea
Over, over, battle bound
Rally to the trumpet sound
Unity of horn and wing
And hoof unbroken as we sing
Equestria, your heart is here
With mighty strength and mighty cheer
Carried in our sword and spear
Equestria, your heart is here
Equestria, our might is yours!
Harmony forevermore!
From this earth to heaven’s door,
From prairieland to Crystal shore!
When the chant was over, the air had changed. Twilight felt a resonance in that hall—what was once emptiness was swarmed with deep spirits—and their group was a powerful tribal circle, decoupled from the mundane to join the tapestry of history. She sensed that Celestia’s tales would be reenacted tonight. They were no longer Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Pinkie Pie; they were pure beings, ascended to a world of essential forms. Twilight’s voice unconsciously stirred. She knew the words that were rising from her trembling throat only as they emerged—an older song, a slower song, a hymnal song for the Eternal Princess. She had carried it for only a few words when her companions joined in.
O Sun, how your light does shine on me
And shine upon the road that I might see
May your reign last when waters turn to stone
May your reign last when mountains turn to bone
Until clouds grow too great above the plain
Until clouds fall as oceans in the rain
Until oceans cover mountains in the rain
“Praise Celestia,” whispered Twilight.
“Praise Celestia.”
“Praise Celestia.”
“Praise Celestia!”
“Praise Celestia!”
“Praise Celestia!"
*****
“So, why make more Alicorns at all then?”
The smile again. “I guess that’s another good question. First and foremost, I could guarantee Equestria’s safety better with four of us around. When Nightmare Moon first appeared, we came too close to disaster.”
“Is that all?”
“Besides the fact that you’re arguably the finest spellcaster in Equestria’s history?”
“A real reason! And not just for me—why make any new Alicorns?”
Celestia gave a sparkling laugh and lowered her head. “Well, as I said, we need Alicorns to lead this nation in times of crisis. Luna and I deemed it too risky to maintain the old arrangement. But choosing you specifically was an important personal choice as much as anything. I am very fond of your company, you know.”
Twilight blushed, and Celestia’s sharp, regal visage creased into a chuckle as she snuggled closer. “I need ponies around me I can trust. Ponies who can lead by my side,” she continued, “and to be blunt, it doesn’t help terribly when they die after seventy years or so.”
“Is that really the criteria?” asked Twilight. “I guess it makes sense, but…” She appeared to be regarding her half-eaten cake, but Celestia could tell her mind was elsewhere. “It’s so cruel, in a way. There are so many good ponies who just can’t qualify because they could never have—never have…” Her thin mouth pursed in embarrassment. “Could never have what we have.”
Celestia nodded. “No, they couldn’t. But why should anypony but you be chosen? Ponies are equal in the diversity of their talents, not in the application of them. What good would this job do Applejack, who loves her family and her work as honestly as anypony I’ve ever met? This city—this palace—would never suit Applejack. The best thing for a pony is for her to know what her place in the world is, and Applejack knows that better than most.”
“And what about you and me? What’s the right place for a plotter?”
“I did tell you I wasn’t eternal, right? I needed to find a new partner eventually.”
“Does that mean you’re going to…?” Twilight looked up at Celestia.
“Not for a very long time. And Cadance will live at least as long as you.”
“That’s—a lot of responsibility.”
“Responsibility you can handle. That’s why we make new Alicorns. And someday, you’ll meet a little filly with a great mind and great magic and she’ll become your personal student.”
“That’s how it is, huh?” Twilight murmured.
“Yes.” Celestia was staring at the hearth, the uneven light lifting and dipping over her still visage. “You’ll teach her what it means to be an Alicorn. What it means to have mastery over a nation.”
“Mastery…” Twilight clicked her tongue and cocked her head. “I guess that’s not something most ponies are up to, huh?”
“No,” said Celestia, “They certainly aren’t. But you are.”
“And that’s why we need more Alicorns.”
“Yes.” Teacups were briskly refilled. “That’s why we will always need Alicorns.”
*****
When the time came, the ponies assembled themselves in the overgrown gardens of the Palace—the Guard and volunteers in tidy rows, the Element bearers at the front, and Rainbow Dash leading the charge. Twilight stood with Princess Celestia on the stone balcony above, the Element of Magic resting on her head. The strange translucent tide of Celestia’s ceaselessly moving mane reached a high point as the Princess of the Undying Sun raised herself up to speak.
“Ponies! My brave little ponies! We stand here tonight united in our convictions. The dark flood of eternal night is threatening once more to burst free, and tonight, we ride to Canterlot not merely to dam it and repress its evil, but to destroy it at the source. I have no doubt that we can achieve this. There is not one among you who could not move me to tears with the devotion you have shown, both to me and to this nation. Before we take back Canterlot, let my gratitude be known to you all. Let it be known to you all that my spirit is in your hearts for as long as you live to fight for Equestria. Let it be known that Celestia herself would sooner die than see Canterlot fall. And let it be known that we will see this ended quickly or we will not see it ended at all! We shall free Canterlot from the Nightmare before the dawn!
“I know that we can do this. I know it because our enemy is short-sighted where concerns the cause she has handed to us by stealing our city. Nightmare Moon believes she can claim victory merely by planting herself in Canterlot Palace like an avaricious dragon, but she forgets what she stands against. We ponies here are not strangers to Canterlot. It is our home from which she thinks she has ejected us! The greatest possession we have—our own home, where our families come to rest, where our hearts come to unburden themselves. And for that home, we will struggle, and we will fight, and we will never relent, and we will never lose faith! For that home, we will give over the blood and bone in our bodies! For that home, we will birth within us new strength and new vitality for every second that a monster claims it as her own!
“My little ponies! Two thousand years ago this nation was forged in a fire that thawed the windigos’ blizzards—the hot crest of unity between unicorn, pegasus and earth pony, a unity that has proven itself unconquerable. On this night, we are merely tested yet again by the same force of cold hatred. Take up your weapons now, and go home!”
Celestia’s words penetrated with palpable ecstasy through that crowd and they roared, the cup overrun with a flood of chanting and stomping. A great anguish of joy was manifest. Their hooves were hot and raw, raised again and again to their Princess and then ground fiercely into the soil in rapturous applause, a painful enchantment seizing their hearts like a raptor’s claws. Twilight was beautifully overwhelmed. She could pick out her friends and neighbors in the ranks, and they too were charged with that energy, reanimated by Celestia—there was Fluttershy’s pale face shining, and Applejack’s sharp eyes brimming over with determination, and Rarity’s hooves up in the air.
“Now, go home!” Celestia repeated, spreading her wings, and Rainbow Dash called for order.
As Celestia’s warriors marched out of the gardens, the Princess moved to address Twilight privately. She told her to follow the group at a reasonable distance, a watchful distance. She told her to guide the ponies who were still there—those who could not fight. She told her to wait in hiding before Canterlot’s gates until she was signaled. Twilight, with the shining falls of Canterlot in her heart, responded in reverent affirmative. Celestia bowed at her long neck and smiled easily.
“I entrust them to you, Princess Twilight Sparkle, Jewel of Canterlot, Bearer of Magic, Bringer of Friendship. See them well.”
Twilight’s group kept to the coniferous forests on the mountainside, clear of the hamlets and towns. Ponyville was haunted now by the Lunar Guard of Nightmare Moon. A great many of them had been remade in the Nightmare’s image and granted magical enhancements to become pale, wiry avatars of their Queen’s will—bat-winged, silver-shod battalions stalked and slouched through the empty streets, hunting for rebels. Twilight kept a lookout at the rear for their willowy shapes among the pines. At every moment she feared that inexperience would doom those entrusted to her—she feared for Derpy’s poor physical coordination, for Cheerilee’s innocent amble, for Bon Bon’s stubborn, exhausted pants. There had to be no lapping tongues, no twirling tails, no sharp movements of head and hoof. Had Twilight allowed her neurotic ego to work and worm through her resolve, she might have been paralyzed by paranoia.
But tonight they could not fail, said the steadfast voice in her heart. This night would be a night of rebirth, the rebirth of a national mind that some pessimists might have supposed was lost in the fluidity of modern Equestria. Indeed, the horror of the Nightmare had rebirthed a moral purpose that cut to the heart of the Equestrian spirit. Twilight knew that were the volunteers to die, that spirit and that power instantiated in their bodily instruments would not perish but would only feed back as many tributaries into the river of their collective will. All that was asked of them was loyalty. Loyalty was the blood of the collective.
When the lights of Canterlot showed between knotted trunks, Twilight drew an apprehensive breath. A final stretch of valley led from the trees to the city gates, fogged with the deep green night. This was a good spot.
“Cheerilee,” she whispered to the pony at her rear, “pass the message back that we’re taking shelter here. Tell them not to wander and keep low to the ground.”
A wave of murmurs shifted haltingly through the group and Twilight shuffled her hooves. From their elevated vantage point, she could see the portcullis of Canterlot smashed open, and she strained to discern closer details within. There was smoke rising from somewhere; it plumed to meet the clouds of the scarred sky. Ghostly sounds of battle resonated through the valley, softened by distance to engender an eerie calm in Twilight’s heart. She waited.
*****
“What about my friends, then?” asked Twilight. “Why did you want me to know these ponies so intimately if I’m just going to see them die?” Her voice wavered.
Celestia nuzzled Twilight’s mane again. “When I said death is important to everypony, I didn’t just mean the ones who die themselves. There’s an old saying that the death of one’s parents signifies the last step to adulthood.”
“You mean…”
“You had to learn about friendship or else you would never truly understand what your duty was—what you were protecting. When you’re as old as me, you'll remember them as if they were still with you only yesterday.”
“I…” Twilight gazed into the hearth. “I want to say that you’re being harsh, but something tells me you’re right.”
“Ah.” Celestia finished off her tea with a soft sigh, and began to stroke Twilight’s mane. “Let me tell you something. Once, Luna and I had this stallion in our court—he was the Lord Steward at the time. I believe his name was Mustard Seed, if my memory doesn’t fail me. He was a dear friend. One afternoon, for some reason that I can’t recall, he asked us both what we wished for the most at that moment. Luna said that she wished that all the ponies of Equestria would come out during her night and appreciate her for it.”
“What did you wish for?”
“Hm-hmm.” Celestia’s expression had relaxed into a nostalgic smile. “I wished for a cup of tea. Mustard made one for me promptly.”
Twilight giggled and looked up at Celestia. “I think I’m starting to understand all this now.” Celestia caught her gaze and stared back expectantly. “You made me an Alicorn because I like tea.” There was such a vulnerability in Twilight’s eyes that Celestia blushed as she heard the words repeated back to her.
“Yes indeed, Twilight.” Celestia smacked her lips. “Yes indeed. We’ll have to content ourselves with plotting together.”
The snow showed no sign that it would relieve Canterlot of its stormy onslaught. The sound of the wind ebbed and flowed, alternating between terrific howling crescendos and little whistling peeps like birdsong. Teacher and student—mentor and protegée—princess and princess listened to the outside in the shelter of their tower. They would remain there for some time.
*****
It was only a couple of hours before the small pink shape came running, a wavering bright spot speeding steadily down the mountain road. Twilight readied herself as Pinkie Pie’s features became visible. Her look was uncharacteristically harsh; her coat was marked and dirty but she appeared mostly unharmed.
“Twilight!” she cried. “Time to move your rump! Come with me!”
Twilight nodded, more to herself than to Pinkie, and dived into the valley, a clean dip to grab Pinkie around her trunk—then pulled up to race towards Canterlot with ever growing speed and confidence. She would complete this plot, destiny be damned; this was her victory. The tough pines all around her melted into a swampy blur as she climbed up towards the cliffs. All she saw was the palace, its stolen towers glowing a robust white in the holy moonlight of the Nightmare, its pristine mass besieged by those murky clouds. Pinkie babbled: Fluttershy was hurt but alright—the guards were almost all dealt with—Nightmare was barricaded in the throne room, waiting for her. Twilight kept her focus forward. She spun through the gates with growing confidence. She flew quick and true through familiar streets. The sand-dusted stone of Canterlot bled into a pastel slipstream. She heard civilians cried in jubilation and her wings beat ever more fiercely. When the Palace at last rushed into her uncompromising view, she drew to a halt before the Guards outside and looked around.
From below Canterlot, the clouds were sapphire; the moon shone through a clear band at its centre, throwing dull light only on the Palace. Members of the Guard greeted Twilight at the entrance to the city, bowing in their jangling armour. They had done well against the Nightmare; they had bit and kicked a path through the city straight to the Palace gates. It was now in the hands of the Elements to see Nightmare Moon ended once and for all.
There was a Captain of the Guard waiting for Twilight at the gates. He was stout and muscular, thick-jawed with long but heavy legs. Twilight asked if there were any serious casualties and he told her that numbers were still being calculated but there must have been at least five hundred injured and probably seventy to a hundred deaths. Twilight asked what was his name and he told her it was Spring Green. She commended his bravery and promised that his name as well as the names of all those who fought would be remembered, and the dead enshrined forever as heroes. He dropped down upon one knelt foreleg and bowed, thanking Twilight in formal language as he did so.
Formalities were complete. Beyond the gates was destiny.
There was a twisted helmet among the peonies. Twilight grimaced and hurled it back over the wall with a flick of her horn. She would not see this place desecrated any longer. All around the Palace, the sickened air made what was once familiar into something vertiginous and toxic, like heady spirits. Once again Twilight fancied that her phenomenal experience was so acute because it was approaching synthesis with some blazing inheritance from an extra-moral eternity—the pony in her that was beyond mere ego. Its will demanded the toxicity expelled. Equestria could not but be a changed place after this upheaval. Amid that darkened garden Twilight stood as a purifier of the post-apocalypse; for tomorrow’s Canterlot, those now dead were the martyrs of that rejuvenation.
Rainbow Dash bowed at Twilight’s approach and Pinkie Pie moved forward to embrace her. Her friend all smiled, and Rarity’s tender voice cracked as she greeted them. She flicked her mane fussily; Applejack tipped her hat, chuckling. Twilight could see they were tired. And yet…
“Nightmare Moon fought on the front lines for a while but I think she’s saving her energy for us,” said Rainbow Dash. “She’s barricaded in the throne room but the guards can’t hold her if she attacks. We gotta strike fast and good.”
Fast and good it was. “Let’s go, then.”
The guards in the foyer stood to attention as the Elements entered. Though they each wore blood and bruises, they held themselves with such dignity that you would think those burdens merely cosmetic—yet Twilight could see their comrades stranded behind them in sickening and inorganic poses. The hall itself stunk of ash and blood and was all torn apart. A tapestry with its ruined heraldry, doomed and luminous under the Nightmare’s vast moon, hung with redemptive promise from the half-smashed balustrade. The air stung Twilight’s skin and eyes like a fever. She ascended the stairs, where the rigid guards stood combat-ready at the doors to the throne room. Up, up, to those doors, masked in night’s glaze. She moved heedlessly forwards. Up, up, silence interrupted by hooves tick-tacking against the floor in that maddening way. The door, looming, invited her.
From the other side of the door, a voice whispered, “Twilight Sparkle.”
Had she misheard it? There was no time for second-guessing. She summoned a burst of magic and opened the door with a rude slam.
Nightmare Moon was yards away. Twilight leapt to the right just as a bolt of lightning struck the ground where she stood, catching herself on the wing and sliding up against the painted glass window.
Came the clapping of hooves on stone as her allies joined her in the throne room. Came a brazen laugh that rang sharply in Twilight’s ears. “The arrogance of this pony!” cried Nightmare Moon.
“I’m arrogant?” said Twilight. “The pony who wants to plunge Equestria into eternal night is calling me arrogant?”
“Look at me and judge for yourself.” Nightmare Moon pulled herself up pridefully. Her armour, once dusky, now glowed silver and covered her like scales; she was taller and broader, and her horn shone like scrubbed bone. “The first time we met like this, I was a refugee from the barren moon. Oh, Twilight, you have never met the Nightmare until now—nourished on the dreams and madness of many, many, many moons.”
Twilight hissed and flapped her wings. “The first time we met, I was a unicorn barely out of fillyhood. I think I’ll take my chances.” The Element of Friendship flared up, warming her breast.
Another laugh. “You think you do the right thing by serving that false idol.”
“False idol? Princess Celestia?”
“Who else? Do you know why this Moon always rises to push the Sun from the sky? Can you even guess?”
Twilight looked at her friends, who stared with the same expectation in their faces as Nightmare Moon. “I know. You’re here because you want her power for yourself.”
Nightmare Moon roared, “No! That is an answer worthy of Celestia! She is obsessed with power because that’s all she understands. I see she’s corrupted you already.”
“It’s the truth,” said Twilight. “You want a new order where you rule.”
“Order. Let me tell you about Celestia’s order and how I have come to seek its ruin.” Nightmare Moon tossed her arrogant mane. “Yes, I want a new order. How long I have wanted a new order is surely immeasurable. Celestia, being but a cynic, sees her irrational order as complete. As if her power could ever be innocent! I have always seen further. I see a moral force for progress. I see a rational order—rational, yes. To extend the powers of this palace and reorganise ponies on rational grounds for the betterment of Equestria. Celestia wants ponies to know their place. She thinks them happier there. I want ponies to come under the service of a new order—a new palace—and work in the broader interests of all ponykind under the eternal night. I want only to liberate them from Celestia’s prescriptions. Does that sound like a mere hunger for power to you?
“Yes,” said Twilight. “That’s all it is. You’re taking the harmony we enjoy under Celestia and throwing it back in her face. You can’t have harmony without peace. You can’t have peace without order—organic order—good will between the ruler and the ruled. Your order is a fantasy. It has nothing to do with what ponies want or deserve. It’s only what you want, and that’s power. You believe that Celestia's power is criminal; that's why you could only rule as a criminal.” The magic was welling up in her and her eyes became to throb and burn. The time had almost come.
“A pity,” said Nightmare Moon. “If only Celestia—”
“Now, girls!”
The light in Twilight’s breast unfolded in a hot blast, robbing her of breath. Blinded by its intensity, she grit hard her teeth in dry mouth as her hooves left the ground and she rose unconsciously over the Nightmare. Her pulse throbbed hotly and she felt so swelled up inside that she thought she might faint—the taste of bile on the back of her tongue, the strain on her eyes as they were stretched achingly open by the elemental force; it was only compounded by the force coming in five directions to hammer into her chest, her heart palpitating. She heard in the distance the scream of Nightmare Moon and knew the light had been called again successfully. Her ears popped with the thundering pressure and her horn intensified its deep and painful vibrations. The light grew brighter—the light, the light! With the resolve of a conqueror, Twilight forced out every spirit of magic she could summon through the transforming conduit of her body, and it flowered into a blaze—a blaze that she could not see but could sense sure as though it were being called upon her. Begone, Nightmare Moon, she prayed. Begone! She fell back upon trembling legs and raised up blood-burned eyes, nerves stinging.
Nightmare Moon stood. Her armour was black and ruined, but she stood—silent, shellshocked. Twilight’s seesawing gaze focused in time to see her smile.
“How?”
Nightmare Moon twisted on a back leg to face the throne, and reared up with an angry cry. From her horn burst a streak of fire that spun towards Applejack—the pony between her and the exits at the back of the throne room. Applejack yelped and hurled herself into the wall, colliding with a smack. The fire seared only the ground.
“Stop her!” cried Twilight.
Nightmare Moon leapt forward into a gallop, aiming for the door to the west wing. Rainbow Dash gave a nod to Twilight and flew after the Nightmare as the doors slammed behind her. Twilight shook her ringing head and made to follow.
“Twilight!” The voice was Fluttershy’s. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t you want us to come?” Applejack asked, standing up unsteadily, shifting her weight onto three legs.
“You’ve done enough. Nightmare Moon is weak. Dash and I can take her.”
“You must be tired too, Twi.”
Twilight shook her head. “This is what I have to do.” As she galloped through the doors, she heard Applejack respond with a resigned, “If you say so,” and she smiled.
By the time she arrived in the main corridor, Twilight saw only a flash of blue as Rainbow moved into the west parlour. It was then that there was a great shattering noise and Twilight froze as her cruel imagination conjured up a vision of Nightmare Moon standing over Rainbow Dash, a wrecked ornament in her hoof—but it could alarm Twilight for only a moment; this brief paralysis passed, she galloped through and swept her gaze across the scene. Nightmare Moon had hurled herself through one of the tall painted windows of the west parlour and was flying imprecisely towards the cliffs. The lucent shape of Rainbow Dash still followed her doggedly. Twilight flew after them, twirling between the glass shards still fixed in their frame.
The trees swelled like tar in the darkness beneath Twilight and the cold sound of wind became intertwined with the indefinite roar of Canterlot Falls. Nightmare Moon spasmed like a wounded raven and spun erratically towards the high ridge of the forest. Her two pursuers dipped in turn. The falls were now visible, glistening on the firmament a dream’s length away from them, falling like tapestries before the theatre of the living.
As Twilight reached those pale, thin trees that stood up like insect legs on the farthest side of the far forests, Nightmare Moon skidded to the ground and took off at a gallop to the cliffs. Twilight landed more gracefully and pulled up to see Nightmare Moon cast in bright silhouette by the lowered moon. It was then that light flashed and betrayed its mistress, glancing off a long spear she held bound in the air by magic—whether pulled from the trees or carried from the Palace, Twilight couldn’t tell.
“Rainbow!” she cried. “Look out! She’s got a spear!”
Rainbow Dash hurled herself onto Nightmare Moon and they became indistinguishable, a mass of unceasing black movement. Twilight started to gallop. There was a husky cry, and a high-pitched scream, and Twilight froze once more, rooted, processing the sound and recognizing it as Rainbow Dash just as the monster with Luna’s face hurled her adversary’s body to the side, the spearpoint driven fatally through her gut. Twilight flinched as the shadow called Nightmare Moon turned to her. She stared destiny in the face. The shadow took a trembling step forwards. She was weak. Twilight stared destiny in the face.
“Twilight Sparkle,” said the shadow. “You…you—”
“I know,” said Twilight. “I know about power.”
Then Dash was on her again, her hooves grabbing at the evasive strands of Nightmare’s mane, and Twilight knew that it was a special vision she was now witnessing. The vision spoke in Twilight’s heart—spoke to recall Celestia’s words about death. She had been wrong all along, of course; as usual, the plotter could never bring closure to anything so long as she still schemed. That was for those who fought and died without pretence, innocent in their beauty. The burrowed vitality emerging from Rainbow Dash was a wonder of violence, an unearthly force—she cried again and again, a hoarse war chant. Nightmare Moon was but a mewling little filly in the face of that force and she flapped and flailed and whined in impotence, subjected in her totality to Rainbow Dash’s mastery. Twilight saw then with growing awe that it was a force of which Rainbow Dash was merely a brutal instantiation, an archetype of heroism carved from a purer form of ponykind—and then Dash seized Nightmare’s mane decisively and pulled up her enemy’s head with ritual precision and they were a perfectly visible shadow on the cliff and the spear in Dash’s abdomen was cruelly thrusting and jutting upwards from her gut and her arms bulged and strained and her seething muscularity was unbound and her small pretty bloody features were set in darkness oh Celestia I can see it ALL now—and then Rainbow Dash shoved the helpless sacred puppet down with a
C
R
A
C
K
The horn snapped and spun off the cliff, wildly discarded. Nightmare Moon fell. Rainbow Dash’s legs gave out and she lay prone across her. The struggle was ended. For a few moments, Twilight could sense warmth and it seemed as though Rainbow Dash and Nightmare Moon were still alive. Then it was gone. The cliffs stood as though nothing had happened, the cool sound of the falls sweeping away the concerns of those fools encased in flesh and bone. But Twilight knew. Twilight knew all that had happened even if it collapsed into the unseen past. There would yet be another story told to the foals of the nation, another memory pumped through its heart and muscles. Twilight knew.
At last, that white fortune spilling across the horizon—the sun was rising.
“Beautiful.”
So it was in her tears and in her thoughts. Her plots enacted in service to beauty. Beauty enacted in service to death. The sun’s golden blast encircled Dash’s silhouetted form, collapsed in the seat of her convictions. The light was scattered into Twilight’s squinting eyes by the shimmering falls of Canterlot—and she beheld history.
“Rainbow Dash.” The words were effortless, breathless. “You did beautifully.”
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you had to warp their characters first, so I don't think it does a good job getting your point across
6398116
the characters are meant to be symbolic rather than realistic in this. that's the point.
I approve.
6398834
hah, how very appropriate. thanks!
Great story
This was a rather difficult story for me to puzzle out, and I imagine it must have been difficult for many other readers as well, so I'd like to walk you a bit through my thought processes as I was reading it:
...I admit, I don't read a lot of philosophical or older works, fiction or otherwise, and so I had a bit of a hard time following this story. Stuff like Nightmare Moon's talk about "moral order" or whatever was very obtuse to me; the convoluted terms were clearly meant to instill some kind of high meaning and purpose, but just left me confused and perhaps a bit frightened. While reading it, I thought it all sounded like things I would hear quoted out of the Communist Manifesto or something; it had that kind of feel to it.
I found Celestia's views and attitudes and the way ponies treated her to be a bit unsettling. I'm not fond of the whole "death is good" viewpoint, but I understand where it's coming from. I haven't a clue about what the conversation about alicorns and tea was about. It seemed to me that Celestia was saying that she wanted more alicorns around to balance the power a bit - but not too many though! - and she chose Twilight because she's capable and because... she likes Twilight? Which is frankly all fine reasoning with me, but I don't know why that conversation was there and I feel I probably missed some tea-metaphor completely, but I'm a lazy reader, so I didn't bother to go over it again.
I also was suspicious of the way Celestia talked about "mastery" over the nation - seemed like rather strong language, even if I didn't disagree with the denotation - and the way she... what? Expected Twilight to follow exactly in her footsteps, literally down to taking on a powerful female unicorn someday as her student and pseudo-heir? I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be suggestive of some deeper plan for the alicorns that Celestia possessed, or some bigotry on her part, or if she thought she was going to die and Twilight would need to train a replacement, or if she was so narrow-minded that she expected Twilight to do everything exactly as she had done.
Then there was the cult of personality that Celestia seems to build up around herself, and the way she and Twilight think of themselves as "plotters." Both of which are fine to a point - a bit of Celestia-worship is practically canon, and the idea that some people are simply better equipped to plan and to lead than to do is a fact of life. But everyone takes their feelings of respect towards Celestia to an extreme, and it's hard not to see Twilight's view of herself as a "thinker, no a doer" as at least a little bit arrogant, despite her attempts to glorify the sacrifices of others on her behalf. The fact that I don't think Celestia was even seen in the final battle was also worrisome - like she was the real plotter, and Twilight was her instrument.
And then, of course, there's the fact that the only acknowledgement that Nightmare Moon was even a person or had any relation to any of them was Twilight's brief nod in the beginning to the fact that it was odd that everyone accepted assassination as the only recourse. Which IS pretty odd, you know. Celestia neither acknowledges her as her sister nor seems to be mourning her sister's death (which, since the Elements have been shown to be capable of purifying NMM, doesn't seem necessary).
...Somewhere in there I began to wonder if in fact Celestia was the actual villain here, glorifying death, crafting new alicorns that she could pit against each other if need be, building a cult of personality and seeking to eliminate her strongest rival. There was a lot of grand words and deep concepts being thrown about but not an ounce of compassion or remorse.
And that's what really disturbed me. I have no problem with violence in fiction, even pony fiction; even in real life I think it can be justified, even necessary. And I don't actually have any problems with the basic motivations for the characters - I can certainly see a world in which Celestia chooses execution as the final solution to save the land from her power-hungry sister. Many authors have done something along this line, and handled delicately, I think it be a powerful basis for a story.
But the way in which that war was pursued, not just without remorse, but by glorifying it at every step of the way - that disturbed me. By the time Twilight confronts NMM I was wearily wondering if there was a real irreconcilable difference here or if it was just some of philosophy-nerd argument that got out of control. The hunt for NMM and then her murder - I have a hard time calling it anything but murder at this point, it no longer feels like justice - invoked a lot of emotion in me, and most of that of that emotion turned to disgust at Twilight's reaction to the deaths of her friend and enemy.
...Anyway. I always tell people that one of the most important things a work of fiction should do is stir emotions in the heart of the reader - and not necessarily good emotions, either. Sorrow, anger, fear - those all have their place. The only truly negative emotion for a writer to inspire is apathy.
And so your comment at the end about fascism - and I think and hope you were referring to everyone's views in this story and not just NMM - made me a bit relieved and maybe, perhaps, impressed, because if it was your goal to write a story that on the surface seems to glorify fascism - or whatever view was evidenced herein - but on deeper reflection makes it seem disturbing, even loathsome, you have certainly succeeded. And you did it without invoking ethnic purges or jackboots or any of the other outward, more superficial signs of fascism that people would recognize, so, kudos for that. It probably made it much too subtle for most people (including, perhaps, me), but I appreciate the effort that went into it.
Oh, and the grammar and mechanics and writing itself were all excellent too, of course. There's a few typos, especially towards the latter part of the story, and the use of flowery language and metaphors was quite heavy, but it seemed to fit this... polemic style fairly well. Ditto for character portrayals and plot; no one acted as they really would in the show and things like the conversation about alicorns didn't seem to advance the plot, but they all served (or I assume they served) the purpose of getting the story's point across. It wasn't really a story about a rebellion, after all: it was a story about fascism. Or whatever this ideology was.
Anyway! Good story, made me think. Though, I'm really starting to wish authors would put trigger warnings up for when they're going to kill off Nightmare Moon (disclaimer! - she's my favorite character), but since it seems like all of my favorite authors have written at least one story where her brutal/tear-jerker murder/suicide is the climax... at least you're in good company!
Keep up the good work! ~ Sable
6949369
You're more or less spot on. Thank you very much for your comment; I have very little to add because you've grasped what the story is about, so far as I can see.
Thing is about fascism is that it's just as you say—ethnic purges and jackboots may be the superficial signposts for fascism in the popular consciousness, but what I find more interesting and more elemental to the philosophical character of fascism is the glorification of death and violence as ends in themselves, ends that might renew a threatened political order against entropy, decline, degeneration, etc. Obviously this story isn't particularly show-accurate, but in a more symbolic sense, the structure of monarchal leader-worship makes it prime to explore how such a system would seek to justify and reinforce itself through fascistic means. The fact is that ponies appear remarkably happy to live under Princess Celestia—I'd even argue that the show presents Equestria as morally utopian insofar as the virtues of Harmony are accepted as universal—but outside of the context of a family show about pastel horses, even the happiest and most secure countries in the world have to justify themselves with violence on occasion, and therein lies the seduction of fascism as this form of renewal.
The whole thing about Celestia choosing Twilight as co-ruler/heir because she likes her is principally a nod to another element of the fascist world view—the Great Man view of history, which I believe is first attributed to Thomas Carlyle. The notion is that history is moved primarily by the actions of great individuals who transcend their social conditions. This is also something that the text makes it very easy to play with, since ponies have their socio-economic roles more or less assigned to them at puberty, and even in the show are presented as happier for it. It's reflected in the fandom when you see memes like Princess Applejack; the show makes the idea of Princess Applejack ridiculous. It's almost impossible to square the notion of Applejack becoming a princess (or indeed anything other than an apple farmer) with the metaphysics of a world where you often settle on your destiny before you've even left home. Why should Twilight be chosen as princess? Because Celestia decides that she is special in herself.
Thanks as well for the watch! I'm considering writing an equally cynical counterpart to this story about Starlight Glimmer (working title is The Revolutionary), so look out for that if you enjoyed this.
A very intriguing story. I had to pay attention with this one. You are better read philosophically, poltically, and historically than I am. Reading the comments helped.
I had wondered about the purpose of the Celestia-Twilight scenes, until I got to this point:
"Ahh," I said. Then I began to see. I had my doubts though, which persisted until the end. I liked this story a lot, and if I had to suggest any changes, it would be that you give Luna a little more time to hammer in her argument and make her case to the reader. See, I was uncertain whether the story was siding with her or not, because she's given as much foot room as a typically villain you're not supposed to side with. So my investment did not commit one way or the other. But it's tricky. I know you don't want to make it too obvious.
Once I realized what the intent behind the Celestia-Twilight scenes might be, I thought it was brilliant. They allow the reader to switch sides at a critical moment and realize the truth, while also realizing Twilight will not do the same, and that's very important. (The evidence for Luna's case is in Celestia's very words with Twilight, yet because they came from Celestia before NNM's return and Twilight of course listened, because it was Celestia, we know Twilight will stay the course. She is blinded.) This frees the narrative of the responsibility to work out a happy ending for the real hero, leaving the characters to charge ahead on their destined courses, while the reader watches in full understanding and helplessness (the worst mixture). Had I been more sure of NNM's validity (in other words, that all this was the narrative's true intent and not simply my mistaken perception), the effect would have been pure and not, sadly, somewhat muddled.
But! As it is, this is a good and very well structured story. Many writers cannot even prime the thematic cannon shot, let alone fire it bullseye. You had it beautifully prepared. All the gunpowder just didn't ignite, that's all--and that's only in my opinion.
So great work.
I give this a 2 out of 4. Could have been better.
6949369
Would you mourn the death of someone who betrayed you twice? Luna ripped Celestia's heart out, stabbed it repeatedly and then threw sat on the wound. Politics aside, that was just cruel.
I love how Twilight called Luna out as the power-hungry psycho she is.
Lovely example of how character death isn't always sad. Dash will live on forever in the heart of her nation.
Sol Imperium Vivat.
Sir, I am going to take your copy of Being and Time and I am going to burn it. I do this for your own good.
This was a beautiful, if sad, story. Tell me, did you mean to make Celestia seem like the real villain, or did you mean for the readers to decide for themselves who was right and who was wrong?
I definitely needed the disclaimer at the beginning and to do a little bit of wiki-walking before I could really grasp the story.
Without going into specifics, I just disagreed with the worldview that Celestia laid out, but I found it really compelling and interesting in its construction (and its effect on Twilight).
... but I think I would have been more amenable if I hadn't read up on some ethno-nationalist history. I am sympathetic to the idea that death can hold meaning, I just firmly disagree with the notion. Really made me hope that Nightmare Moon would have an interesting take. When she gave her reasons I realized that this story was a representation of a propaganda piece more than a pony fic. Really well done!
by tomorrow I mean the number that will come and immediately cease to be tomorrow.
why can 't you just impose beauty ?
are they more eternal because they are not eternal? It's clear, she's very stupid.
I am proud of many things for which no blood was shed. she's still very very dumb.
Then it's just completely religious fucking bullshit
8361437
always