Celestia's Angels

by Aquaman

Her Right Hoo(ves)

In every sense of the phrase, there truly was no place like home for Celestia’s Angels. Standing eighty feet tall and carved into a perfect resonance spiral for casting work, the order’s trademark ivory-white tower had bookended Canterlot’s landscape for nearly a millennium, a magically engineered exclamation mark on the royal city’s skyline.

Mandated though her residence in it was, Twilight Sparkle could hardly complain about her new home, and after a year of living there frankly couldn’t imagine who would. Haven had just about everything: a great location, plenty of breathing space, and—most importantly right now—a grand semi-circular balcony perfect for aiming a long-distance teleportation spell at.

As she and her friends blinked back into corporeal form, an involuntary shiver rolled down Twilight’s spine. Even in mid-summer, the air took on a biting chill this far up the mountain—but in fairness, the view more than compensated for the cold. From this vantage point she could see for miles in every direction, from the rolling green carpet of Hollow Shades all the way to the tiny matchbox houses of Ponyville.

Sometimes she felt like she’d dissolve into the scenery if she stood out here long enough, just a tiny smudge of purple ink on a painting as big as the world. A similar sensation filled her head now, but for a much less existential reason. It’d taken fourteen cities and the better part of two months, but Harmony’s Run had finally and unequivocally fried her, and all Twilight could do about it now was wobble a bit and wish desperately for a shower and a nap. Preferably both at the same time.

“Didn’t expect her to have something for us so soon,” Sunset mused, ambling towards the floor-to-ceiling window separating the balcony from the rest of the tower. She managed to pull the door open with a sputtering burst of magic, but even that small motion seemed to drain her just as much it would’ve Twilight. “Think it’s important?”

Starlight flopped onto a reclining couch the moment she stumbled inside, her face buried in a pillow and forelegs dangling off either side. “It could be an order to pick up her dry-cleaning, and I’d still be happy,” she groaned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m kinda all extroverted out at the moment.”

Twilight swayed in place again, but for the moment stayed upright. “You said it. And that was before Fluttershy’s friend showed up. What was her name, Tracy or…”

“Close enough,” Sunset said from behind a hoof rubbing at her eyes. “No kidding, though, that was weird.”

There was really nothing else to say on the matter after that. If you could manage to throw Sunset Shimmer off her social game, “weird” was a colossal understatement for what you were. “Okay, girls, game faces,” Twilight said, shaking the cobwebs from her head as she trotted forward. “Let’s see what the Princess wants.”

Sunset answered with a jaw-cracking yawn, and Starlight grunted as she yanked her pillow over her head. Twilight thought about repeating herself, but in the end just shrugged and kept going. If Celestia had seen fit to call them in the middle of an afterparty, surely she wouldn’t mind a little magic-lag.

The temperature shifted again as she walked, the setting sun’s warmth fading a bit as she moved away from the window. Instead of separate floors, Haven’s interior opened up into a single cylindrical rotunda, ringed with three stacked mezzanines connected by spiral staircases and topped with a stained-glass depiction of Celestia’s Royal Seal.

Directly beneath it stood a round crystal table, translucent and sparkling in the evening light. Beyond that, a pair of towering gemstone-studded doors secured the tower’s front entrance—as did eighteen inches of magisteel fortifications and a six-layer security spellweave, but the shiny gates usually came off better in speeches.

All told, Haven more resembled a fortress than a home, which to be fair that was more or less intentional. In spite of that fact, the newest Angels had managed to make themselves comfortable here. Besides the cluster of chairs and coffee tables near the balcony, a small kitchen and dining area lightened up one side of the ground floor, while its opposite side had been overtaken by a combination laboratory and research library.

As for living space, they’d all claimed one floor of the three above for their own, each outfitted with its own bedchamber, private study, and excessively lavish bathroom. Twilight’s just so happened to be the highest one, so far up she had to crane her neck and squint just to see the web of girders nestled underneath it. Next item on the home-improvement shopping list: an elevator. Or, it occurred to her now, at least a bell or something to let Haven’s fourth resident know they were home.

“Spike?” Twilight called out, her voice scratchy and dull until she raised it enough to reach the tower’s summit. “Spiiiiiike!”

As her shout’s echo faded, the distant clack of baby dragon footsteps grew to replace it. Sixty feet above Haven’s living “room”, Spike popped into fuzzy view, his head squeezed through a gap in the balustrade.

“Oh hey, Twilight!” he replied, waving a clawed hand as he grinned down at her. “When’d you guys get back? I thought you were staying in Ponyville tonight.”

Twilight tilted her head towards her still-flashing flank. “Change of plans,” she told him. “Come on down and help us get set up.”

With an obedient nod, Spike pulled back out of sight and started the long trek downstairs. In the meantime, Twilight approached the crystal dais at Haven’s core, and from underneath its rim pulled out a gold-banded wooden chest, its lid embossed with the current Angels’ cutie marks.

As Sunset joined her, Twilight flipped the case open and passed her a translucent melon-sized ruby, perfectly round save for a narrow crevice the precise size and shape of Sunset’s horn. Keeping the amethyst stone for herself, Twilight floated the sapphire towards Spike, who caught it in midair on his way over to the couch Starlight had passed out on.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Twilight lifted her gemstone over her head so she could gently slot her horn inside, bringing violet motes of magical energy swirling to life within. Sunset did the same with her own crystal a moment later, but across the room Spike spent several more prodding at Starlight without provoking a response. After biting his lip in thought, he tilted her slackened head back until he could spear the stone on her horn himself, then flashed Twilight a grin and a thumbs-up.

Once all three Angels were present and technically accounted for, Twilight activated the contact charm. With matching brilliant flashes—and a little extra nudge from Spike—the three orbs rose from the Angels’ horns to hover above the crystal table, connected by three wispy strands of pure-white magic. A fourth tendril danced between the others, searching for a matching signal in a place beyond mortal comprehension—and finding it after a few seconds with an electric flash of light.

The stones sank down again, embedding themselves in a trio of indentations along the table’s edge. Shuddering with the force of a freshly woken spell, its crystal surface reshaped itself before Twilight and Sunset’s eyes, jagged peaks rising and rounded valleys rolling across its once unblemished face. In less than a minute, a gleaming map of the entire Equestrian kingdom lay before them, scaled and accurate to every last topographical detail.

Instead of the magnificent display, Twilight focused on the humming ovoid veil that filled the empty space above it. Portal magic was always a tricky business, but Twilight had never known this instance of it to fail. Sure enough, a motherly voice soon wafted through, warm and wonderful to hear after so much time spent away from it.

“Good evening, Angels,” Princess Celestia said.

“Good evening, Celestia,” Twilight wearily replied.

“Thank you for responding on such short notice,” Celestia continued, an ethereal echo trailing each word. “I trust you all are well?”

“Well enough, Your Highness,” Sunset told her. “Just a little short on sleep.”

As if on cue, Starlight jerked awake with a muffled yelp of surprise, her horn flaring by reflex as she tumbled onto the floor. Her gaze drifted to the portal as she pulled herself upright, comprehension dawning with each blink of her bleary eyes.

“So I can imagine,” Celestia said through a chuckle. “My apologies for disturbing you, then.”

Starlight yawned in response, sniffling as she rubbed at her nose. “No big, Princess,” she mumbled into her fetlock. “‘Sup.”

Twilight kept her sigh quiet so the portal wouldn’t pick it up, but Celestia probably wouldn’t have minded hearing it anyway. Of all ponies, the Princess knew all too well how exhausting public service could be.

“I know I’m keeping you all from a well-deserved break,” Celestia said, “but if it’s any consolation, what I’d like to discuss with you today won’t prevent you from taking one.”

Twilight couldn’t help but squint at that. “Pardon me, Princess, but what exactly do you want to discuss, then? From the way you contacted us, we assumed it was something… well, serious.”

“No need for pardoning, Twilight. In your position, I’d be curious too. While this matter isn’t as urgent as most, it is delicate and somewhat complex, so I thought it’d be best to give you some time to prepare. As for the exact timing…” Celestia chuckled again. “Diplomatic responsibility does have its perks. Among them, the occasional excuse for an unplanned exit.”

Sunset shook her head and grinned. “You could at least eavesdrop on us in person, Your Highness.”

“And miss my weekly municipal budget meeting?” Even without seeing her, Twilight could hear the wry smile on Celestia’s lips. “Were I only so uncourteous, Sunset.”

Before she could ask it, Celestia answered Twilight’s next question too. “In four days’ time, Canterlot Castle will host over five hundred dignitaries, dear friends, and diplomatic envoys from twelve allied kingdoms for the grandest royal event in modern Equestrian history. As a matter of course, the comfort and security of our expected guests will be of utmost importance, and all necessary precautions to that end have already been put in place. But without our kingdom’s three most beloved guardians in attendance, I fear this most regal of ceremonies could end in abject disaster.”

Twilight nodded to herself, her mind already racing through every relevant detail and data point she could think of. Canterlot had stood as a beacon of harmony and royal strength for hundreds of years. A threat to any part of it was a threat to all of Equestria. Even with a few days to prepare, they’d need to work nearly around the clock coordinating its defense—exactly the kind of job Twilight Sparkle lived for.

“We’re your mares, Princess Celestia,” she said. “What’s the occasion? Trade negotiations? An international peace conference?”

For a moment too long, Celestia didn’t respond. When she did speak up, Twilight could’ve sworn the Princess was smiling again. “Something like that,” she mused through the portal’s mystic veil—just before it pulsated in the wake of a thunderous belch.

Over by Starlight, Spike doubled over as a powerful hiccup nearly knocked him on his rump, his eyes watering and cheeks already bulging with a sequel to his first interjection. Once he let it out, a jet of green fire spurted from his maw, condensing in midair into a pair of wax-sealed scrolls just like the one smoking in Starlight’s lap. After a few coughs and a quick pound on his chest, a fourth scroll emerged as well, small enough to fit perfectly in his adolescent claws.

“I hate when she does that…” he muttered, grimacing through a rather hoarse groan.

While Spike rubbed at his throat, Starlight broke the seal on Celestia’s letter—which, Twilight noticed, didn’t bear her usual insignia. Instead of the Royal Sun, a faceted crystal heart adorned the messages, blue as the sky and bordered by swirling golden brackets. Twilight had seen that seal before. In fact, she knew for sure they all had.

“The Crystal Empire?” Sunset murmured.

“‘Dear friends’?” Twilight added at the same volume.

They turned to each other and spoke with one voice. “Princess Cadance?”

“Will be married this coming Saturday, right here in Canterlot,” Celestia confirmed. “She thought you might like to come.”

The truth washed over Twilight in waves, each one tinted with a different emotion. The Angels had seen and conquered horrors immemorial, from a rogue Ursa Minor to the malevolent spirit of Chaos incarnate… but a royal wedding? In just four days? There’d be names to memorize, gifts to buy, corsages to surely grow by horn if they wanted to avoid the late rush—and stars above, what in Equestria were they supposed to wear? They’d be lucky to find any designer on such short notice, let alone one worthy of Crystallian royalty. And Tartarus forbid they skimp on the standard prep work: profiling guests, performing structural analyses, plotting communication networks and emergency escape routes…

And it was all for Cadance. Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire: Celestia’s protégée and adopted “niece”, newly crowned Princess of Love, and the youngest Angel—not to mention only alicorn—to ever join the order. She’d been everything to them when they were growing up, from babysitter to mediator to irreplaceable mentor once they’d succeeded her in joining the Angels. Twilight owed half of all she’d ever be to Cadance’s guidance and encouragement, and now she was getting married.

And this cross-kingdom song and dance was how she’d found out.

Twilight blinked once, twice, then held her eyes shut as she dragged her hoof across her face. With every passing day in this job, she understood more and more why Cadance retired from it in her prime.

“For the record, Your Highness,” Sunset said, “the next time you summon us, we’re definitely sleeping through it.” A hoof held over her mouth wasn’t enough to hide the grin beneath it, though, nor the tinge of laughter in her voice. Before Starlight could catch it, Sunset tugged an unopened scroll out of her grasp with her magic, sliding it into one hoof while the other held Starlight firmly at foreleg’s distance.

“With the heartfelt blessing of—there’s three letters, go get your own!—Her Majesty Princess Celestia of Equestria, yadda yadda, pomp and circumstance… Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” A low whistle punctuated Sunset’s recital. “Remind me never to call her that.”

Even as Sunset nudged her away, Starlight leapt right back up, an unusually airy giggle bubbling out of her throat. “C’mon, you’re leaving out the best part!” she shouted, bouncing in place as she waved a second folded paper in Sunset’s face. “We’re not just going. We’re gonna be frickin’ bridesmaids!”

A crease formed in Sunset’s brow. “And you’re excited about that?”

“What, is that too girly for me? Am I not allowed to be girly?” Starlight shot back, her mood no worse for wear. “Of course I’m excited, it’s a royal wedding! This is, like, thirty percent of everything I’ve ever wanted in life.”

“What’s the other seventy percent?”

“Life-threatening and/or illegal to do in public. The point is, I’m stoked.”

Twilight had a good idea of what Sunset’s face looked like after that, but at the moment she couldn’t know for sure. As she’d unsealed the last invitation and read it for herself, a fuzzy black shutter had fallen over her eyes, screwed into place by a splitting headache beneath her horn. She heard someone approaching—maybe Spike, maybe a rabbit in a petticoat slurping down the dregs of her sanity—but for now elected not to join them back in the real world. Between the rally this morning, the party this afternoon, Celestia summoning them all the way home to Canterlot just to pass on a wedding invitation, and now this, she and reality were ready for some time apart.

“Twilight?” Sunset asked from the other side of the earth. “Twilight, you’re being weird. She’s being weird again, Starlight.”

“So sue her,” came Starlight’s echoing retort. “It’s just Twilight being Twilight. Whatever she’s freaking out about, there’s no possible way it can make this any better than it already is.”

And that did it. That was the last straw. With a sputter, a cough, and a last crimson-tinged look at the parchment crumpled in her hooves, Twilight Sparkle finally snapped.

“Princess Cadance is marrying my BROTHER?”

Twilight’s voice carried all the way to Haven’s peak, her screech shuddering through the walls like the opening notes of an earthquake. Sunset glanced at Spike, who looked at Starlight, who stared at Twilight with gleeful madness sparkling in her eyes.

“Never mind,” she said. “You just made it better.”

Comments

[EchoWing]

...welp, Shiny done screwed up again.

[A lost anonymous]

So it's still alive huh

[Greatazuredragon]

Nice seeing you updating, nice chapter.

[totallynotabrony]

Note to self:
Get place with high ceiling
Install firepole

[Swashbucklist]

After biting his lip in thought, he tilted her slackened head back until he could spear the stone on her horn himself, then flashed Twilight a grin and a thumbs-up.

I like.

[Corejo]

I normally dislike AU's for the way they dismantle canon more completely than regular fan works, but I like the way you've changed this story around. Lots of little things to find and infer that make the story that much more engaging.

[Jane_Shadow]

Alice in Wonderland reference to be found in this story.

[New Rebellion]

BWAHAHAHAHA!!! I am finding myself loving this Starlight Glimmer (and the story!!!) more and more with each paragraph I read!!!