• Published 12th Oct 2014
  • 3,852 Views, 518 Comments

DayBreak - MyHobby



After an attempt is made on Celestia's life, Twilight Sparkle must assemble a team to track down the assassin and bring her to justice. Danger awaits as they delve into the origins of both the attacker and alicorns.

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Ghosts

Daring and Care went right from the train station to Ponyville’s marketplace, having secured a place in the Ponyville Line’s Royal Car. Unlike Canterlot, there were no crowds. There was no riot. The market stalls were scattered and empty save for the few owned by diehards. Even those ponies were crowded around assorted radios and newspapers.

Care walked past the Carrot Clan cart. Her eyes and Golden Harvest’s met for a brief moment. When she opened her mouth to say something, Goldie looked down like she hadn’t noticed her.

Care furrowed her brow and kept walking.

The bell above Time Turner’s door jingled as Daring walked in. She looked around the shop at the bevy of clocks ticking happily. Two young mares were seated beside a large radio, listening to the broadcast.

Things don’t add up. If Celestia was really on the road to recovery, she would have made a public appearance to reassure us!

And invite the assassin to try again? To hurt more innocent ponies?

To end the riots! To quell the panic! To show the ponies that no, she isn’t in danger, and neither is Equestria. She hasn’t appeared at all.

Do you really want to think about what that could mean?

Isn’t it irresponsible not to consider it?

“Expert opinions. Gotta love them.” Daring moved to the side to let Care into the shop. “You ever heard of Time Turner, Cap?”

“Not... really…” Care loosened her green scarf. “Isn’t he in that ghost story about Ghastly Gorge?”

“Ghost story?” Daring Do crossed her forelegs. “What sorta ghost story?”

“Some of the guys talked about going down the gorge and seeing this stallion running like mad through it, screaming. They tried to call out to him, but he disappeared right before their eyes.”

Daring smirked. “Sounds like a unicorn teleport.”

“They thought so, too.” Care shrugged. “Then five minutes later he ran past them again, going the same direction, and disappeared in the exact same spot. They swear up and down he was an earth pony.”

A Cuckoo clock chimed two. Daring narrowed one eye. “So what makes it a ghost story?”

“That they could see through him,” Care said. “And it happened every five minutes on the dot. They said it had to be Time Turner’s ghost.” She cast a lazy glance over the pocket watches on display. “I went down there myself one time, but didn’t see or hear anything. I figured I was getting hazed.”

“Probably. Some ghosts ain’t dead yet, though.” Daring flapped a wing to get the two young mares’ attention. “Hay, either of you seen your boss?”

Twist’s head snapped up. She bit her lip. “I don’t work here.”

Dinky wiped her eyes and pointed to the back of the shop. “H-he’s in his workshop. Hasn’t come out all day. He doesn’t like being interrupted when he gets like this.”

“Tough cookies for him.” Daring Do cantered behind the counter. She paused with her hoof inches from the handle. “Say, do you think he’s heard about the whole assassination kerfuffle?”

Dinky grimaced. “Probably not.”

“Cool. Cool.” Daring lightly ground her teeth. “How’re you at bearing bad news, Captain?”

“I suck at it.”

“Cool. That makes two of us.” She pushed down the door handle. “Best to just rip the bandage right off the—”

She was greeted with a flash of blinding light that stabbed her eyes. She covered her face and stumbled back. “What the flying feather?

“Oh, what now?” Time cranked the dial of his welding torch. The flame gradually died down from its highest intensity to a dull roar. He lifted his dark goggles and snarled. “What in the blazes is worth breaking the peace and sanctity of my workshop?”

“I didn’t know you were hiding a stinkin’ solar flare behind the door!” Daring shouted. “You trying to burn my retinas off?”

“You didn’t even knock.” Time Turner shut off his torch turned back to his work. A half-finished fob watch lay over a metal grate, a pristine weld circling around the edge. He edged it closer with tongs and inspected his work. “Nopony knocks anymore. They all have better things to do than announce their presence.”

He pushed away from the table and swiveled around to face the door. “Well congratulations, you have my attention. How may I be of service to…?” He paused when he saw Daring. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. “Oh. Doctor Do. Good to see you again.”

Daring held a hoof over one watering eye and gave him a half-grin. “Kinda like Hearth’s Warming on Nightmare Night, ain’t it?”

“In a number of ways.” He sucked in his lower lip. “Do you have a headache? The welding flare’s a pain in the flank if you stare at it too long.”

“Believe me, there was no staring.” She winked. “Not at the flame, anyway.”

“Gah…” Time Turner hurried across the room to open a cabinet. “You’re here about the test results, aren’t you? I think I’ve discovered a few things about the material that are absolutely fascinating. I’m sure Princess Twilight will—”

“Sparkle’s hurt, Time.” The last bits of the smile fell from her face, replaced with a level glare. “She’s hurt real bad.”

Time Turner shuffled a few pages of notes. He reshuffled them a few times. “Is she now? The assassin?”

“Bingo. Jumped her on the way to our ambush. Made the rest of us look like suckers.” Daring rubbed her gray mane. “Time, she took down an alicorn in direct combat. She’s not some run-of-the-mill madmare. She’s something special. Something different. I don’t know that we can take her alone.”

Care poked her head into the room. She looked from Daring to Time and back again. She tilted her head. “So this guy’s the legend?”

Time Turner shook his spiky, singed mane. “And you might be?”

Care stood at attention, chest out and head high. “Care Carrot, Captain of Celestia’s Personal Guard.”

“Oh.” Time opened his mouth to continue, but stopped himself. His mouth moved as several different responses came to mind, but he settled for another “Oh.”

Care’s ears drooped. “I guess I deserve that ‘oh.’”

“I’m… sure you did everything you could.” Time Turner coughed into his hoof. “I’m unsure about why you’re coming to me with this news, Daring. I’m not exactly the go-to pony for tracking down villains.”

Care shook her head. She blinked. “Did you really just call her Daring?”

Time froze. He cleared his throat and waved a hoof. “Er, I of course meant that she’s the author of the Daring Do books, and since she’s so closely associated with the character—”

“Chill, Time, she ought to know.” Daring Do held a hoof over her chest. “Care, it’s true. A.K. Yearling is just my penname. My real name is Daring Do.”

Care leveled her eyebrows. “You’re Daring Do.”

“That’s what I just said, yeah.”

“As in the actual Daring Do?”

“Like the one in the books, ahuh.”

Care’s tail swayed back and forth. “You’ve gone off the deep end. It’s finally happened. The comic books finally got to you.”

“They’re novels,” Daring huffed. “Autobiographical, slightly-embellished novels.”

Care gritted her teeth. “You’re trying to tell me there’s really a cat-monster thing living in the jungle and trying to take over the sun?”

“Yeah, and I whup his sorry tail every time.” Daring scoffed. “You know, that’s really not the hardest thing in my books to believe.”

“I only read the first one,” Care said.

“Whatever. Back on track.” Daring hopped over to Time Turner and grabbed his shoulder. “Time, we need to take out the killer before she hurts more ponies. Before she actually kills one of the princesses. We are running out of options.”

“What good am I?” Time Turner held his hooves over his chest. “I’m just a simple clockmaker from Ponyville, Daring. I’m not a hero.”

Daring Do scrunched her nose. “You said it yourself that you’re the Knight of Time—”

“I’m not, Daring. I got out. I stopped.” He took a step back. “It’s over. It got too rough, and I couldn’t take it.”

He took his chair beside the fob watch. He leaned on the grates. “I’m not a knight anymore.”

Care rolled her eyes and walked towards the doorway. Daring hung her head and let her loose mane fall over her face.

She blew a quick raspberry. “Like heck you aren’t.”

She rounded the table and stood across from him. She brought her face uncomfortably close to his. “You’re still a knight and you know it.”

He drew his head back. “What—?”

“If you started out anything like me, you ain’t finished yet.” Daring Do set her jaw. “She picked you personally, didn’t she?”

His eyes fell to the watch.

“Me, I was on my last legs. A grimy filly with a busted wing. No home, no family, no hope. Nothing but my books.” Daring reached over the table and tilted his chin up. “Then I joined the Royal Guard and it got better for a little bit. I had food, shelter, friends. I had a cause. And then it ended. My wings got too bad and I couldn’t do it anymore. Honorable discharge.”

Care leaned against the doorframe, one ear listening to the radio broadcast, the other to Daring.

“Had nowhere to go. Nopony to turn to. Nothing going for me.” Daring Do let a smile touch the corner of her mouth. “But then Celestia happened.”

Time swallowed.

Daring nodded. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? When there was nothing left, she just popped right into my life. She had this awesome book about ancient relics. She said she might know where to find the Sapphire Stone, and just needed somepony who could go after it. She gave me the supplies and sent me on my way.”

She let her hoof fall from his chin. He didn’t break eye contact.

“The book had solutions to all the puzzles,” Daring said. “Routes around all the traps. I got to the chamber and grabbed the Stone, just as Ahuizotl and his idiots showed up. I get the heck out of there, leading the jerks through all the traps and setting them off right on top of them.” She laughed. “I got out of the temple and found myself face-to-face with a phalanx of the Royal Guard. They were there to stop Ahuizotl, but by then I’d sent all the goons packing.”

She touched his hoof. “Time, Celestia told me that our history was precious, and deserved a worthy guardian. She said she’d never found a guardian more worthy than me. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

His shoulders trembled. “W-well, yes.”

“Yeah.” Daring Do tugged him from his chair and led him to the door. “She named me the Knight of History then and there. She gave me a mission. A purpose. She did that to you, too, didn’t she?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, of course she did.”

Daring Do shared a sad smile with him. “The princesses need help, and it’s up to the Knights of Harmony to answer the call. One last time, Time.” She winced. “That came out wrong.”

“I don’t think I could have said it better, myself.” He shut his eyes and tensed up. “Oh, but it’s a hard thing you ask of me, Daring.”

Daring Do shifted weight from hoof to hoof. “Maybe, but Celestia asked first.”

Care stood up and trotted over to the two ponies. “What we do, we do for Celestia. Right?”

“Celestia and Sparkle both.” Daring looked Time Turner square in the eyes. “Whadda yah say? We gonna catch a creep?”

Time Turner sighed. He followed it up with a chuckle. “I really couldn’t imagine myself doing less. Nothing less than the best.”

Daring Do chucked his shoulder. “Yeah, that’s the Time Turner I’ve heard about.”

He snapped off a salute. “Quite. Down to business, then. What leads do we have?”

“We’ve got the throwing knife,” Care said.

“Yes, the wingblade. A weapon.” Time Turner walked towards the wall and fiddled with the hands of a broken hanging clock. “In addition to the analysis I’ve done on it. What else?”

“Luna recognizes her as the same Commander Hurricane who helped raise her.” Daring Do scratched her wing. “Sounds crazy, but the evidence is there.”

“Identity.” Time Turner set the clock to ten-ten and pressed the face in. “Shut the door, will you, Captain?”

Care kicked the door and latched the lock. “Daring Do and I thought about going after the sealed archives to see just what kinda skeletons might be in Hurricane’s closet. Might give us a motive and a clue about where she’ll strike next.”

“Location.” The broken clock let out four “Cuckoos.” Time Turner gripped the pendulum and gave it a quarter-twist. “It’s a start.”

The wall behind the clock swung out, kicking up dust from the room within. It was a small walk-in closet, with two walls holding shelves and the third dotted with hooks. The shelves held a variety of small, clockwork gadgets. Some appeared to be pocket watches, other looked like steam engines. Bronze-colored leg guards and horseshoes hung from the back wall, surrounding a brown duster coat.

Something rumbled in the back of Time Turner’s throat. “Oh, but it’s a hard thing you ask of me.”

Daring Do bumped her shoulder against his. “Yeah, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Time Turner nodded. “Then let’s get to work.” He walked inside the closet and pulled the door partway closed.

Care sidled over to Daring and whispered in her ear. “Question: Why him? Why not somepony who actually wants to fight? Somepony who’s actually on duty?”

“Because Hurricane knew where Sparkle was gonna be.” A shadow fell across Daring’s face as she frowned. “Either somepony knows just who to talk to, or we’ve got a mole in the Royal Guard.”

The door swung open. Daring jerked her head towards the closet. “At least we know he’s on our side.”

Time Turner folded down the collar of his duster. His pockets jangled with gears and springs. His right front leg was covered in a bronze-colored metal gauntlet. Dark goggles rested on his forehead as the strap flattened his mussed, burnt mane.

Daring Do made a low whistle.

“If we’re going to do something,” Time Turner said, “we’d better do it quickly.”

***

Blankety Blank walked through Ponyville’s streets. A receipt floated from an abandoned market stall to dance in the light breeze. The sun hid behind gray clouds, casting a dull orange glow over the town.

He was in his usual earth pony disguise. White coat, nearly-white mane, and pink eyes. He shuffled along in his own slow gait, looking for signs of life. He tasted the air and caught hints of the bitter fear and desperation that had overwhelmed him in Canterlot. A heavy sadness tingled through the windows and into the streets.

Ponyville’s resident princess had fallen. There was no denying the fact.

The castle loomed overhead, its blue crystal glowing in the orange light, lending it a slight purple tinge. He reached up and touched the door handle. The door opened before he could turn it. A tall, yellow-coated young mare walked out, calling over her shoulder.

“If yah need anythin’ yah just gotta make yer way tah the Acres, Spike!” she said. “You won’t have need of aught if’n yah just ask.”

Blankety stumbled back as his senses were assaulted. A smooth, warm, sweet sensation poured from the mare. It wasn’t directed towards him, but he couldn’t help but pick up the overflow. It tickled his nose like cinnamon and ginger. It spread over his tongue like fruit juice. His wiped his eyes when they started to water.

“You okay, sir?” she asked him. Her head tilted, causing the pink bow in her mane to bob. “Y’ look like yah got hit by a carriage.”

“I-I’m fine. Thank you, ma’am.” He blinked the tears from his eyes. “J-just winded, I guess.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” She started to walk away as somebody else came up to the door. “See yah later, Spike.”

“Yeah. See yah.” Spike chewed his bottom lip before continuing. “Th-thanks for helping clean up!”

She smiled at him and made her way back to the Acres.

Blankety turned to the dragon and concentrated. He wasn’t releasing wave upon wave of sweetness. A bland, gluey taste echoed from Spike’s tired eyes, drooping shoulders, and pale scales. Still, through the gloom, there was a subtler flavor. Like a light drizzle of mango, cutting through the pain, giving him a smidgeon of hope.

“Blankety Blank?” Spike said. “I thought you would still be stuck in Canterlot. I didn’t think the trains would be allowing general travel.”

“I m-made my own way.” Blank wet his dry lips with a dryer tongue. “I n-need to speak with C-C-Captain Carrot. Is she back yet?”

Spike shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, but Aunt Yearling said they were on their way. You might as well come inside and wait a while.”

“Th-thanks.” Blankety walked inside while Spike shut the door behind him. “M-may I have a cup of tea?”

“Sure. I’ll put one on.” Spike got down on all fours to make his way to the kitchen. “Mint okay?”

“Of c-course.” Blank shrugged off his light jacket. He headed for the coat rack placed just beside the door.

A hot, jagged pain shot through his hoof. He leaped up and nearly fell on his side in his haste to get away from the heat. He held the burnt hoof with the other and looked at what was surely either a puncture or a blister.

It was as pristine as his hoof ever got. Unblemished, save for the usual chipping he got from walking down the road. Perfectly fine.

He looked at where he’d stepped. Missed by both Spike and Apple Bloom in their efforts to tidy up, a small, shriveled scrap of paper lay on the floor. He crawled up to it and touched it with the tip of his hoof. That same pain shot through his leg.

He dulled his senses with a quick spell and touched it again. It was hot, but not unbearable. He unfolded it and tried to make out the mangled script. All that remained after being crumpled up was the signature. Merry Mare.

He frowned. He shut his eyes and focused on the feelings, trying to decipher them without hurting himself. They came from two sources, and the result was jumbled. Anger. Rage. Pain. Suffering. Sadness.

He focused on the signature itself, on the pony who’d written it. A hint of cookies baking, coupled with the stench of decay. A horrifying mix of emotions.

He tucked the mangled letter away in his saddlebags and trotted to the kitchen.

***

King Andean Ursagryph walked along the edge of Canter Mountain alongside his two daughters. The air was clear, free of the noise of riots and angry, scared ponies. He smiled as Stella—with her fuzzy white feathers and fur—hopped from rock to rock, stretching her wings.

“This wasn’t how I expected our first visit to go,” Corona said in the griffon language.

Andean looked down at his eldest daughter. Her coloration was light brown for her lion half and dark brown on her eagle half. The color was broken by a fiery streak atop her head that tapered down her back, accompanied by a similar flash on each wingtip. She already had signs of greater magic than the rest of their species, even though she was still a few years from maturation. She would be a powerful ruler indeed.

“It wasn’t my wish either, but we must make the best of it.” Andean trained his sharp eyes further up the mountain. He could see a series of caves carved into the side. Not at all natural. “Have you noticed the differences between how our people and theirs act?”

“Yes. A few.” Corona twiddled two of her talons. “They seem nicer. A little stuffy, sometimes, but nicer. They try to be polite.”

“Stuffy?” Andean smirked. “That, I believe, is completely isolated to the nobility. I’ve met some ponies who are the absolute opposite of stuffy.”

“Like Miss Applejack!” Stella called out from a small peak. “She uses funny words like ‘darn,’ ‘y’all,’ and ‘shucks’!”

“Yes, exactly.” Andean raised an eyebrow. “I’m curious as to why you believe them nicer.”

“They… care for the weak. They will not see you as less if you are not as smart or as strong as they.”

Andean narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “You believe we do not care for our weak?”

“That is not what I meant to say.” Corona scratched one feathery ear. “We care for our sick, yes, and we care for our elderly. But they place a great emphasis on friendship…” She tilted her head. “Even with those in the lower classes. Isn’t Applejack a farmer and also a lord mayor?”

“They don’t place nearly as much of an emphasis on merit as we do.” Andean spread his wings partway to feel the wind in his feathers. “Applejack was elected based on her ability to do her job, I believe. But do not forget those who rose to power through blood, such as the aptly-named Prince Blueblood.”

He scowled. “Also, do not mistake their concern for compassion. They understand the ways of manipulation far better than most griffons. They know how to use hypocrisy as a tool. They will pull the thorn from your paw… for a favor.”

Corona turned her eyes down. “I just know that many of our lords bullied their way into power.”

Andean sighed. He lay his wingtip over Corona’s shoulders. “Indeed. That is why the King or Queen must be ready to make sure the bullies cannot abuse their power further.”

“I understand, father.” Corona’s ears drooped. “Until such a time comes that someone can take the power from them.”

Andean winced. “I was going to leave that last part unspoken.”

“Da! Come quickly! It’s the dragon!”

Stella’s shout grasped their ears. They flew toward the top of the next hill where the little griffon chick had hopped. Andean leaned on an outcropping, gripping it with a scarred talon. “My word.”

Shardscale was rolled up in a fetal position, her tail clutched tight to her chest. She shivered, rattling her scales and shaking her wings. She opened one eye and looked up at them. “H-hay, guys.”

“Are you okay?” Stella asked, switching to Equestrian. She crawled off her rock perch and skittered down the green hill. “You look cold.”

“W-well, it is fall, after all.” Shard’s shoulders jerked as she lifted herself upright. “I, ah, I was just resting.”

Andean crossed the distance with a single flap of his wings, Corona behind him. “I thought dragons were warmed by an inner fire.”

“Ehh… It’s a funny thing. Our warmth is connected to our magic, and our magic is connected to our warmth.” Shard waved a hand. “It’s complicated. I was just perusing the cemetery. Got done and started heading back to the castle, got sidetracked. No big.”

“Hmm.” Andean rested a talon on the hilt of his ceremonial broadsword. “What were you doing in the cemetery?”

“Recording the names of the fallen.” Shardscale tapped her clawtips together. “If you’ve got history, but don’t have the names and faces to go with it, it just becomes dates and numbers.”

Stella tugged on her father’s feathers. Her wings drooped and her eyelids were low. “I’m tired, Da.”

Andean stiffened. He lifted an arm and quickly set Stella on his back. “Rest, Daughter. Close your eyes and think of all the questions you’ll want to ask me later.”

As Stella nuzzled into his feathers and fur, Andean turned one eye to Shard. “That is wise, and I thank you for that service. Their sacrifice must not be forgotten.”

Sharscale rubbed her upper arms. “Was going real good, too, until I got to the unicorn family catacombs. Got this chill that ran through my whole body. Just about put me out of commission.” She grinned. “If I believed in ghosts, I’d say it was haunted.”

Corona tilted her ears back. “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

Shardscale smiled and shook her head.

“Interesting.” Andean ran his talon through his beard. “Surely, you acknowledge the existence of wights?”

Stella yawned from Andean’s back. “What’re wights?”

“Creepy monsters.” Shard blew a breath of flame which reconfigured itself into a scroll. She skimmed over her notes. “Kinda a mix between changelings and windigos. They take the form of rotten corpses and feed off the terror of people visiting the grave.” She ignited the page and allowed it to travel back to her cache. “Not actually ghosts. Not even undead.”

“Equestrians, minotaurs, zebras, they’re all the same.” Andean sneered. “If you keep your bodies lying around, you leave yourself susceptible to wight infestations. Will you inform Luna that she might have a problem?”

“One more atop the pile. What can it hurt?” Shard shrugged. “I’ll tell her, but she’ll probably have other things on her mind.”

Corona clicked her beak. “Why don’t you believe in ghosts, Miss Shardscale?”

“Please, call me Shard.” The dragon hauled herself onto her hind legs. “And as much fun as it’d be to haunt a jerk or two, I know where I’m going when I die.” She smiled up at the sky. “I’m getting a star. Heck, maybe they’ll even let me have a whole constellation.”

She popped her knuckles. “You guys take care. I’ve got a couple of jobs to take care of. See yah.”

She flew off, leaving the three griffons on the green hillside. Corona ran her palm across Stella’s head as the little sister slept. “Shard is more knowledgeable than she appears.”

Andean Ursagryph glared after the dragon. “Something to keep in mind for all your future acquaintances, Corona.”

***

“Luna, do sit up straight!”

Luna jerked up. She found herself caught up in a moment of navel-gazing. Of contemplation. Of concern for her sister and Twilight’s condition.

She looked across the table and saw two teenaged alicorn mares also straightening their posture. It took until then to realize that the comment wasn’t directed at her. The dream had shifted while she hadn’t been paying attention. Rather than in the midst of camp, in the middle of Hurricane’s training session, they were in the Crystal Empire.

Queen Platinum sat at the head of the table. She had ascended to the throne when her father, King Pewter, had fallen ill. Shortly thereafter, he had fallen asleep one final time.

“I’m so glad you two could finally visit the Crystal Empire,” the silvery unicorn gushed, her thick lips puckering. “I love the Empire, but Equestria called me away so many times… Well, I suppose that’s up to Puddinghead and Hurricane to settle now, isn’t it?”

Teenaged Celestia—maybe seventeen or eighteen, by Luna’s reckoning—smiled a saintly smile. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. If we ever need your advice, you’re merely a letter away.”

Platinum smiled. “Thou really do know just what to say, Celestia.”

Teenaged Luna, on the other hoof, just looked out the crystalline window into the whirling snow. She wore a frown that was growing more and more perpetual as the days went by and the dreams moved forward. Luna winced as a flood of memories rushed back. No respect. No appreciation. No—

“Luna, do check thy posture. A lady does not show discomfort with her face, only her fan.” Platinum fluttered a paper fan beside her cheek. “Consider this good practice for an event. If you two are to lead our armed forces, it behooves you to look the part of powerful, clever generals.”

No end to the patronizing. Luna looked over at her double and couldn’t ignore the dark gleam in her eye. The little preview of things to come that nopony noticed until it was too late.

Luna rubbed the black patch of her coat, noting with dismay that her teenage body didn’t have one. She sighed. “Would that I were traveling through time and could actually change these events.”

“Hmm?” Celestia turned as the soup arrived. “Did thou say something, Luna?”

“Nay,” the teenaged Luna replied. She lifted her spoon in a bubble of magic and, with a pointed look at Platinum, eased a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

“That’s it, Luna. Grace, poise, sophistication!” Platinum giggled into her fan. “Thou have a wonderful smolder that will have the colts falling all over thee.” She frowned at the chair on the far end of the table. “Speaking of such, I hope our other guest arrives soon, or he may miss the main course!”

Celestia took a perfect, dainty sip. “Your son, you said?”

“Indeed. The boy’s becoming a recluse, if thou ask me. Always studying, always working. Still, he’ll be a fine king someday.” Platinum shivered with glee. “I’m so excited for thou to meet him. He’s a bit older than thou, but he shares thy interest in magic. I’m sure you three will have plenty to talk about.”

Teenaged Luna pursed her lips, her wings fidgeting behind her back. “What is his name?”

The door opened. The guards moved to the side as a tall unicorn stallion walked through. He turned to Platinum and spoke in a deep, reverberating voice. “I’m sorry, Mother. My studies kept me a while longer than I wished.”

The elder Luna, the one who had lived the memory before, nearly fell from her chair. She looked at Celestia and saw the breath catch in her throat.

The stallion’s gray coat shimmered with the power of the crystal ponies. His black mane flowed like water over his shoulders. His horn was expertly filed to a spiraling point. His deep green eyes bored into the hearts of everypony present. He bowed his head. “It is an honor to finally meet the prophesied alicorns face-to-face. I am Prince Sombra.”

Celestia stood up on shaky legs. She walked halfway down the table, much to the teenaged Luna’s confusion. “Is it you? Is it really you?”

Prince Sombra frowned. He squinted at Celestia. “Have we met?”

Celestia’s eyes widened. She shook her head and forced a laugh. “Oh, no. Of course not. No, you just reminded me of somepony else I know. I apologize.”

Prince Sombra raised an eyebrow. “Nothing to apologize for, my lady. Mistakes do happen.”

He chose to take a seat right next to the elder Luna, directly across from the two teen sisters. “Now then,” he said as the servant laid a dish in front of him, “I am most eager to hear of your adventures.”

***

Always.

Luna opened her eyes. She stood up and shook her wings free of kinks and cramps. The afternoon sun shone through the balcony door of the Dream’s Keep. None of the wall mirrors showed dreams in progress.

Luna clicked her hoof against the marble floor, her face stony. She trotted down, through the tower’s stairwell and into the main castle building. A servant trailed in her wake, doing his best to catch up to her long strides with his short, pudgy legs.

“Princess, dear Princess! Oh for the love—” He huffed and pushed himself into a gallop. He reached her side and rubbed his monocle against his red overcoat. “Princess, may I have a word?”

“Mister Natter, you may have as many as you wish.” She forced herself not to smirk. It took some effort. “Provided you keep up.”

“Bah.” Natter’s face was already beginning to grow red beneath his blue coat. “Blueblood insists that he has something to speak to you about Princess Celestia’s condition. You were absent for your luncheon with the griffon king and his family, as you have been for the past three days. Three, Princess.”

He glared at her. She paid him no mind. He continued. “Shardscale wishes to speak to you about a potential infestation in the cemetery. There is also an opinion going around, increasing in popularity, that your statement after Princess Sparkle’s disappearance from the public eye was dissatisfactory. I have taken the liberty of scheduling a press conference—”

“No,” Luna said. “No press conference. No cameras or reporters. I will release a written statement myself. Cancel the conference or reschedule it for another speaker.”

“All due respect, Princess, the ponies are hungry for—”

“All due respect, Scheduling Advisor, but I am not about to risk endangering...” Luna stopped before a heavy wooden door. The symbol of the sun was painted on a lovingly-carved, shallow relief. Golden handles lay untouched for several weeks. “My sister.”

She sucked on her cheek. “Tell Shardscale to speak with Stonewall about the cemetery. She’s the Captain of the Guard. It’s her job to handle things like this.” She lay a hoof on his shoulder. “Thank you, Royal Scheduling Advisor Natter, for your hard work and dedication. Kibitz would be proud.”

Natter cleared his throat and straightened his cravat. “Old granddad taught me everything he knows.”

“It shows.” Luna gestured down the hall. “Be on your way, now. And I will do my utmost to join the griffons for brunch tomorrow. I give you my word.”

“Thank you, Princess.” He bobbed his head. “Tally-ho and good day.”

Once he was out of sight, Luna opened the room: Celestia’s private chambers. With nopony to tend to the fireplace, it had grown cold. What little warmth could be felt was an illusion, brought about by the bright curtains on the windows, silky sheets on the bed, and cheerful pictures on the wall. Most were of Twilight and her friends in Ponyville, but there were a few other subjects. The day Luna returned from the moon was front and center over the mantle.

Luna spent a moment staring at her image. She wore a garland around her neck and a tear in her eye. An end to the darkness, to the shadows, to the nightmare.

She pulled herself away and walked up to a small, potted tree. It was a head taller than her, its branches growing haphazard lengths without proper cultivation. Its leaves turned colors, the cold of the outdoors snaking in to speak of winter sleep.

Luna reached out to touch a shard of glass dangling from one branch. Her eye reflected on its mirrored surface. It was the final shard of a parallel world; the last proof that another Equestria, a twisted, dark doppelganger, even existed.

On another branch, there was a ticket. A scrap of paper, shredded by time and magic. Across its surface, written in lovely, careful pen strokes, was one word: “Always.

The last proof of a love Celestia had lost to a mocking, cruel twist of fate.

“So, sister, you met the kind, mirrored King Sombra before you met our world’s cruel despot.” Luna sighed and stroked the leaves of the tree. “Perhaps this time I can be there to comfort you in your loss.”

Author's Note:

For the record, thou is singular and you is plural. No, I wasn't screwing up with Platinum's dialogue. Not that way, at least.