XII. Existence Precedes Essence
Celestia let her magic fall, and she was in some way aware of standing with a dim look of shock on her face before a decidedly disheveled looking Twilight Sparkle. But her self, the part that was the Mere Celestia, had been blown off the face of Earth and was somewhere between the Field of Arbol and home.
She sat dumbstruck between the bickering, chattering, frantic Court of the Sun. Dusk held her tightly in a hug, torn between excited speculation in Celestia’s ear and shouting down a raving Noonday. On her other side, Dawn sat much like she did, glasses askew, short pink mane at odds and ends, eyes staring ahead and face slack.
“I really don’t know what to do,” Dawn said at last. She sounded… small. Very small. “I hadn’t really… I was too busy making…”
Noonday seemed further away now, like a gnat in Celestia’s ear. As she faded, Dusk gently tugged Dawn towards them both and sat between Celestia and the part of herself least ready for the intrusion of another mind.
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” she said softly.
“Yes,” Dawn said, breathless.
“Beyond words,” Celestia agreed.
“And we’ll have to talk to her in a moment, you know. You can’t just blank out forever.”
“But… but we haven’t really figured out what to say!” Dawn turned on Dusk, but Dusk’s deceptive grip was firmer than it seemed. Loving, supportive, but firm.
“We’re totally blind.”
Dusk tsked. “Yes, yes you are--Celestia. And yes we are, Dawn. Isn’t that exciting? You like Twilight too, after all. I think this is a beginning.”
“Of what?” the frazzled aspect in her embrace asked.
“No clue! Well, some clue.” Dusk chuckled. Her voice was so warm, so welcoming. Celestia had always felt safe in it. When the Court changed, Dusk remained. “Don’t forget Dawn,” Dusk chided her.
Celestia blinked. “That’s right.” She looked at Dawn, who looked back. “You were different then.”
“We are always one thing or another,” replied the other Celestia before her. She seemed different, and yet the core of the dreaming could put no word on the change.
“One thing or another,” Dusk agreed, squeezing them both. “And we will be made new again. Nothing lasts forever--”
“--Unless it’s made new again.”
Celestia took a deep breath. “I don’t feel the Noonday,” she said softly. “Will she return?”
“If you become something in which she can live, yes.”
“If there is room for her. Or if there is room for her brand of righteousness.”
“But for now,” Dusk concluded, “the Sun is here to tell you what your already know. Say something.”
Celestia cleared her throat.
“Are you alright?” she asked, knowing from a glance that Twilight was not exactly “alright”.
Twilight seemed to sway, her eyes watching something--watching Celestia, probably, but the way her mouth twisted was foreign. Celestia repeated her question, and noticed Cadance close out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m…” Twilight licked her lips. “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I just… it’s a bit jarring.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
Celestia hesitated. When Twilight had been a foal, Celestia had tried to keep from coddling her. Love that served only to fulfill the lover’s need was an anathema to her--as much as she had wanted to simply sweep Twilight’s path clean of every conceivable danger, she had stayed her hoof over and over.
Of course she had still been there. When Twilight had cried in the night as a foal during her weekday stays at the palace, Celestia had been on hand to do what any pony would have done. When she’d struggled, Celestia had always been there for the determined to find, ready to remove just a single piece and by doing cause the dam to break.
So for only half a second she found herself wondering--should I hesitate, should I stay back? Will she read into this? Will it make her depend too quickly on me? But the delay was ended as quickly as it had begun, and Celestia reached Twilight before her niece did.
“You look haggard,” she murmured, hugging Twilight briefly and then taking another look at her. “We can let you rest a moment.”
“It’s… okay, I’m pretty shaken.”
“Why? I remember it being a bit uncomfortable, but…” Cadance stood beside her now. Luna had also come close, but not close enough to touch.
“Just sorta psyched myself out,” Twilight said quickly, and waved her hooves. “I will be okay. Just… give me a moment.”
So they did. Cadance baited Twilight into talking for a bit, and Celestia did not move away from her. They stood side by side, the tips of their wings brushing together as Twillight would fidget or laugh.
Celestia and Luna shared a look. A very, very information-laden look.
Celestia at last led Twilight deeper into the complex. She told her, in the best approximation of a tour-guide she could muster, about the great library she had planned to build when Everfree was still the name of the city hidden in the glen. Luna talked about her forge, further down, but not in detail. That was a story for another time.
But when at last they had come to Celestia’s small, well-furnished quarters within the mountain, they reconvened.
Twilight sat not in the middle of them but as a part of the circle. Celestia had been very certain that it should be so, even when the circle had only been three. She believed in symbols. Symbols were the language of the heart, of the mind, and language itself was how ponies created the world around them. Luna preferred to act--that was her language, and Celestia had learned it also. Twilight wrote. Cadance nuzzled and chuckled and joked and smiled. Celestia crafted symbols--she was the most direct, and yet also the least direct.
She hoped Twilight understood before the conversation grew and became what it was always meant to be.
They’d started with the basics.
“So, I have the same potential, quantifiably, as Cadance?” Twilight asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” Celestia said, and then sighed. “Cadance, could you please demonstrate a spell of the fourth degree? Any will do.”
Cadance blinked. She took a deep breath, drawing Twilight’s eager attention. The only time her former student had seen Cadance do advanced magic had been in situations of dire need, and so of course she would be eager to see Cadance with time and focus.
One of the books on Celestia’s personal shelves levitated over. It flapped like a bird as it flew, and then it roosted on Twilight’s head.
“I can lift stuff,” Cadance said with glee. “That is still so cool.”
Now it was Twilight that blinked.
“What?”
Celestia suppressed a snort at Twilight’s bafflement. “Cadance was a pegasus, and so her skill with her unicorn magic is weaker than yours. Her skill and knowledge as a pegasus are immense. The other two? Lacking, a bit. You yourself are arch-mage material. But your flying…”
Twilight gave a grunt and scowled. “I’m working on it. It’s not that bad.”
“Just sorta lumpy,” Cadance said with a giggle. “You fly like that book.”
“Well, being a book isn’t so bad.”
“Truly, you fly like an inebriated fledgeling,” Luna said flatly.
Twilight glared at her. “Well…”
Before Luna or her niece could provoke Twilight farther, Celestia waved for silence and composed herself. “Your beginning… aspects, if you will, are where you are most attuned.”
Well-chosen words sailed over Twilight’s head. “But… I saw Cadance do powerful magic. Not flying or farming or endurance or weatherwork or any of that. Raw thaumic surge. Power of the unicorn variety.”
“And I couldn’t explain it to you with numbers or charts,” Cadance said, shaking her head. “I really couldn’t. I can tell you what it feels like. I could explain it in the way that it makes sense to me, but I can’t do most of those things on command. I was joking with you earlier--I can do some advanced magic at will. Teleportation, though you’ll be better at it then I am. Prestidigitation, some of the elemental magics. I’m getting better with earth pony magic as well. I have a box garden,” she said, grinning.
“A box garden.”
“Yup! Well. It’s not really in a box. It’s actually in a corner of the royal gardens. Hidden away so it’s kind of just for me, y’know? I’m growing crystalberries. Also herbs. But mostly crystalberries. They are great for wine.”
“And you promised us a share of the fruits of your labor, when the time comes to drink of thy work,” Luna said. “I am looking forward to it.”
“I’m thinking I’ll name it… Love of the Vine.” Cadance adopted a distant look, as if posing on a stage mid-soliloquy. Luna snickered.
Celestia cleared her throat and three sets of eyes returned to her. “So there is that, Twilight, but things are more complicated than perhaps you yet know. You’ve noticed an increase in your raw magical talent, obviously. But tell me--are you actually better at magic?”
Twilight raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Well, yes, I--” but as Celestia’s smug grin raced across her face, Twilight backpedaled. “Oh. Oh, I know where you’re going.”
“Yes. Raw magical power is useful to a point. Knowing what to do with it is something very different.”
Twilight nodded. “Honestly, I’ve already noticed. I never trained to fight, after all. I knew the basic defensive spells you made us all learn, and I duelled a little when I was younger. Were you planning ahead when you encouraged me to do that? Anyway, I know enough to not be royally screwed, but most of my combat magic is guesswork and improvisation. I’m a scholar, not a warrior.”
“Only one of us seems to be that, so far,” Luna grumbled. “My hammer is lonely.”
“Shush.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “And I could hold my own in tumult and bivuoac same as you. Exactly, Twilight. The way your power will manifest depends quite a bit on the path you yourself choose for it. And don’t sell yourself short just yet. From what I hear, despite your lack of formalized training in that area, you’ve held your own.”
Twilight flushed slightly. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
“Earth pony endurance is another thing you’ll come to understand and appreciate. I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”
“Oh, definitely.”
Twilight looked as if she wanted to take notes, and Celestia tried not to imagine a much younger student with the same eager look. Within her, Dawn watched with worry, continually building up plans of attack that shattered as soon as she touched them again. Dusk simply smiled and luxuriated in the presence of Twilight. Dusk had always loved Twilight, and the amusing juxtaposition of their names had not escaped Celestia for a moment.
The next question happened without fanfare, almost as if it were not so heavy.
“Have you been having strange dreams recently, Twilight?”
Did Twilight notice the way that air in the room seemed thicker than before? Celestia thought not. She thought that this smiling, well-recovered mare before her had not noticed the way that Luna’s expression went flat as a wall or the tiny intake of breath that gave Cadance a way.
“Well… yes, actually.”
Dawn took shuddered.
“What about?” Cadance asked.
“Well…” Twilight frowned, but didn’t seem to be unnerved in anyway by the dreams. Celestia felt that was a good sign. Or, more likely, it was just a sign she had decided to interpret as good. “Well, first off, some of them have seemed like lucid dreaming. As in, I know I’m dreaming when I’m there.”
Luna stirred. “Dreamwalking?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. I couldn’t do something like that,” Twilight said hurriedly, waving her hooves in Luna’s direction with a sheepish look. “Though… I would like to learn. But no, lucid dreaming isn’t like that.”
Humming, Luna considered this. “When I walked the Dreaming before, I found ponies who could wake but could not truly be Awake. I believe this may be what you refer to. Continue.”
“It’s different every time. The connecting threads have been that they’ve all involved… discussion, I suppose you could say. I remember talking a lot.”
“Do you remember what about?” Cadance pressed, leaning forward.
“Not at all.”
Celestia let out a breath. She looked at Luna, and they held each other’s gaze a moment. Luna took over.
“Twilight, would you be opposed to letting one of us ride alongside you when next you dream?” Luna said it casually, almost as if she were bored, letting the words drift over. “Perhaps that might help. Dreams are a part of the mantle.”
“Dreams?”
“Of a fashion,” Celestia said, feeling a little weak. Dusk cooed as she was wont to about how cute Twilight’s court would be, and Dawn lost the edge of her apprehension in speculation. Celestia resisted the urge to avoid the inevitable. “And we will discuss them in a moment. Before that, we need to talk about something very serious.”
“Serious?” Twilight cocked her head to the side. “I thought all of this was serious. I mean, besides the obvious jokes.”
“Well, yes, but those are things that we can only tell you about. We can’t… do anything about them presently,” Celestia began, already floundering.
Why was she so nervous?
“Ah.” Twilight pursed her lips.
“We did the Ninth for a few reasons.” Another stop. “I wanted to make sure…” Another. “Twilight, I’m not entirely sure how best to explain it.”
Twilight seemed more unsettled by Celestia’s hesitation than anything else. “We have time,” she said, her voice slow. Like she was trying to coax a shy filly out from under her legs--and the irony of it made Celestia want to gag--and the true wonder was that even as she said the most perfect and most imperfect thing to say at that juncture, her tone worked. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”
“You are as I am,” Celestia said firmly. “Ageless. And your dreams will probably confirm it, but I’ve seen enough evidence. Ageless. You will not age or expire with time. Blades and fire and armies are about all that will take your life from you now.” She swallowed. “You’ll live forever, more or less.”
Twilight blinked at her.
So she rambled on. “Luna and I are ageless, and when Cadance ascended I also confirmed that she shared our… our gift. Now we’ve done the same with you. But you have all the time in the world, Twilight. All the time.” Celestia worked her mouth, but no sound came. For the first time in so long, she was speechless.
Noon had been her backbone. Her spine. Her steel. She found no seething voice in her ear or echoing in her mind to drive her forward.
“I… I’m immortal? No, you said ageless.”
“Yes. You’ll… you will be around a long time.”
“I’m…”
Cadance scooted over. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
“It is.” Twilight still looked at Celestia. Still blinked, as if not comprehending. And perhaps she did not, at that.
“You are… different now. You are not what you once were,” Celestia said. “I am sorry. I’m so sorry.”
That finally broke Twilight free of her strange paralysis. “Sorry?”
The strange uplift of her voice dug into Celestia’s heart. She had spent so much time plotting out this moment, or others like it. So of course she reacted, making strange half-motions as if she might flee from her own sanctum. “I… I can leave, if you wish. I did this, and I led you to this and… and if you wish for Cadance to stay--”
“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Princess.” Twilight coughed. “Celestia.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to leave.” When Celestia stopped moving and nodded, she continued. “I just need a moment. You’re saying, firstly, that I’ll… I mean, basically forever unless I fall down like a million stairs or something, right?”
“More or less,” Luna said. “Polearms could also do it, wielded with tenacity. Hurts like Tartarus.”
“Magic you can mostly absorb,” Cadance said. “So I’m told. It still hurts you but… actually killing you with just magic is difficult. You’ll feel it all, but it’s not quite the same.”
“So I’ll outlive everyone, I guess.”
Celestia wilted.
“Yes.”
Twilight sighed. She closed her eyes and hummed.
And for a brief moment, Celestia found herself fleeing into memory again. Twilight, younger but not so young, humming in their old practice room. The runes drawn in light before her on the floor filling most of the room. She sat silently on the other side of it all, waiting and watching. She dared not show a smile or a frown; nothing could pass along her face that would give Twilight a clue.
Her work was imaginative. Her intuition was absolutely breathtaking. Her insight into the nature of things was impeccable. Her attention to detail astonishing. Her organization? More of a matter of idiosyncrasy than logic. Where others shortened and circumscribed, Twilight Sparkle expanded until nothing could hold her and what she brought forth.
Dusk said something softly in her ear about the ruminations of mares in love, and that snapped her back.
Twilight smiled wanly at her. “I’m not sure that really means anything to me.”
“What?”
“Being ageless. I mean, I understand the concept in a purely functional way. I have examples to compare my own mental image to, and I could try and imagine what that be like. But I don’t think it’s… fruitful, I suppose. I don’t have enough data. I can’t really understand that yet.”
“So… you aren’t upset?”
Twilight sighed. “No. I don’t think so.” She hesitated. Celestia hung on that silence. “No. But I’m not exactly thrilled. I just… I don’t know how to take that at all. So I won’t. I can’t understand it. Not in the two minutes since you’ve…”
“I understand,” Cadance said suddenly. “It’s a lot to take in. Truth be told, I was disconsolate after my own interview. With the dreams and the long life and the whole… being something so radically different.”
“But I’m not. Different, I mean. I’m not different in a way that matters.” Twilight stood then, and began to pace. The others widened the circle without being asked and watched her.
She’d always done this, since she was small. Celestia had many memories of a muttering, pacing Twilight. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, ever since the shock wore off.”
“And what have you thought?” Celestia said. For a moment, her fear warred with a tiny spark of a joyful curiosity she had thought had been put behind her when Twilight had sent her last report. What have you learned my student?--that was it. Except Twilight was no longer that, however much she dwelled upon it. She was her own world and her own mare, and now Celestia learned from her equal.
“I am me,” Twilight began. “And I have always been me--it’s not like the old problem of the ship or the axe, where you ask if it’s the same if thing after you’ve replaced all the parts. Ponies don’t work that way. At least, I know I don’t. I haven’t replaced anything. I’ve just changed.
“And I was doing that long before I had wings, you know. I changed when I first got my cutie mark. I changed when I moved into the palace full time. Every time I learned a new spell and mastered it or read a new book, every time I looked through my telescope, every time I did… anything, really. I changed. Ponies are always changing. I am a very different pony in many ways from the Twilight Sparkle that left Canterlot to organize a celebration in Ponyville. Wouldn’t you say?”
Celestia smiled. “I would.”
“And that’s just it. Becoming an alicorn… princess, all of it, is just a continuation of that for me. But all along I was me. There’s no past me or future me. There is only me. I guess you could say that I--and I think ponies in general--are like a ray. Think back to the basics of geometry, the way they introduce it in stages to a foal. A line goes on forever in both directions.A ray has a definite beginning and goes on forever in one direction. That’s what ponies are like. We change! We grow and learn new things. That’s what I am. I am not what I used to be, and I think that’s perfectly fine. I’m not a unicorn anymore. That’s… that’s weird, I’m going to be honest.”
“At least you knew how to use your horn,” Cadance grumbled.
“And you knew how to use your wings,” Twilight said. She flushed. “And you knew how to preen them but I’m going to move on past that statement very quickly! Right! I’m not upset that I’ve changed, is my point.”
Celestia slumped against her chair, not out of defeat but out of relief. Or, at least, it was relief initially. Relief gave way to a feeling of ridiculousness. She had angsted and fretted and Twilight was so… so…
Grown up, Dusk murmured with a smile. Just as she’d been waiting for Celestia to realize all along.
“I think… I think that I have been a fool for some time now,” Celestia said evenly.
“You rolled sixes, more like, sister mine,” Luna told her with a knowing smile. “And do not know what to do with your victory.”
Twilight looked between them. “Do you two do this sort of sibling thing where you leave everyone out of the loop all the time, er, all the time?”
“Yes,” said the other three together.
*
Twilight nervously fidgeted on the bed. She was nervous and hyperalert. Her brain, filled with information and still digesting news beyond the scope of her experience, was overloaded. Everything was intense. She thought she smelled things--lavender, for one--and reminded herself that she wasn’t hallucinating. She was just overreacting and tired and Celestia had lit that candle a trifle nervously only a few minutes before.
The fact that the princess--her princess--was as nervous as she was both comforted her and worried her.
“You’re sure?” Celestia asked, worried for a totally new reason now. “We… we could wait.”
“I want you to be the one that I do this with,” Twilight insisted. “I mean… it’s not… I mean, it isn’t presumptive of me, is it?”
“Not at all,” Celestia said quickly. “Twilight, I’m honored. I’m also impressed and proud of you. You’ve responded to this with nothing but maturity throughout. There’s so much more to be said, and we’ll say it all, but for now: I’m proud of you.”
Twilight felt her cheeks burn, or thought she could. She looked up at Celestia and a stray thought intruded--that she was beautiful in the low light, her eyes like a lighter version of Twilight’s own. She shone even in darkness, murmured something in the back of Twilight’s overworked brain that wasn’t quite so orderly and wouldn’t mind a bit of a fuss now and then.
“Thank you,” Twilight managed.
And Celestia smiled.
And Twilight was for the umpteenth time mortified by how excited she was.
She had to be honest with herself. She had resolved not to practice self-deception if she could help it, and she would not break that oath. She’d had a massive crush on Celestia when she was younger. A certain old poet and Celestia herself had been what had awakened her own awareness as to her preference, for that matter. She had been suitably ashamed later, of course. Shame was one of the more natural things Twilight felt--anxiety was the other big one. Also occasionally panic. All very normal and natural things.
The crush had died. Admiration had taken its place. And then…
No lying. It had returned, only this time attached to a sad but certain knowledge that it was a silly feeling.
And yet here she was, lying in bed, looking up at Celestia, and wondering what a royal wedding with two princesses looked like.
“You seem distracted, Twilight,” Celestia said softly, poking her.
“Ah! I mean, sorry.” Twilight’s ears flattened against her head. “Just… well, distracted. Yeah. That.”
“Second thoughts?”
“No!” She shook her head. “No, I want to do this. I think it’ll be good for me. Also…” She sighed and spoke slowly. “Maybe I’m wrong, but… you’ve seemed more upset than I was. I mean, yeah, I did freak out like twenty minutes after you told me about the whole ageless thing, but only for like, an hour. Or so. But you seemed like you were going to burst. I know that it’s probably silly for me to be saying this to anypony, let alone you, but…”
“But you noticed I was a nervous wreck and you were worried,” Celestia finished for her.
“Yes, basically.”
Celestia sighed. “Scoot over?”
“Um… yeah.”
A few seconds of awkward shuffling. Twilight was still having trouble with her wings.
“Sure you don’t want a bed brought in?” Celestia asked, clearly amused. “You seem to be having trouble.”
“Wings,” grumbled Twilight.
“Of course.”
“I mean… I don’t know. This is kind of awkward, huh? I didn’t really think about that, I was just excited about dreamwalking again.” Actually she had let a whim turn into a fantasy and then realized that she was being motivated by her libido and imagination halfway into the process of relocating to her teacher’s room to retire and then hadn’t known how to bail without hurting Celestia’s feelings or looking like a fool.
“A bit. But it isn’t as if we’re strangers.”
“Yeah.” Twilight smiled. “You’re right.”
“And you’ve had sleepover before, haven’t you? I know you’ve hosted your friends in the library.”
Tactful. She hadn’t mentioned the whole tree in the window part. Celestia was smart that way. “It’s kind of the same, isn’t it? Absolutely the same. Totally the same.”
“I think so.”
“Well.”
They were quiet for a bit.
“I got distracted again,” Twilight said weakly. Celestia shook softly, obviously trying not to laugh, so she pressed on. “You were nervous… Celestia.”
The name was sweet on her tongue and lips. It was like honey. She tried not to think about that because said honey’d mare was about two--maybe three?--hooves away and also it was awkward and Twilight was great at fleeing from awkward situations at high speeds.
At least, she liked to think so.
“I’m glad you’re getting used to calling me by my name. Twilight,” she added, with a titter that died soon. Too soon, in Twilight’s opinion. “I was worried you would be angry with me. I rolled the dice--that is what my sister was referring to. Ponies always talk about me as if I play chess with Equestria, but I’ve always said that I roll dice with the universe. Risk and reward. It’s an old joke between Luna and myself, one of many.”
“I’ll have to start learning them,” Twilight said softly.
Celestia continued on, only a twitch of her ear betraying that she’d heard. “I was worried my gamble, in this case sending you Star Swirl’s spell, had come up ‘snake eyes’ as it were. That you would be angry, or upset, or that you would feel manipulated, or see me as trying to control your life or fate in some sinister way or some other equally painful and ridiculous thing.”
“That’s… a bit of a stretch,” Twilight said after a moment.
“Well yes, I see that now.”
“I mean… I may not be the happiest about it, but I’m not sad or depressed. I don’t know enough to be either, for one.”
“So just wait a few years and then you’ll write a paper about how I’m a tyrant, hm?”
“Hardly.”
“Do make sure to cite sources. I’ll be grading.”
“I’ll have you know I committed the entirety of the handbook to memory,” Twilight said, crossing her hooves. The gesture was a lot less effective when her back was to the bed and her wings were awkwardly fluttering beneath her.
Celestia noticed. “Twilight, lie on your side.”
Twilight shifted. “Like this?”
“There you go. Feel better?”
“My wings do. I used to hate sleeping like this for very long.”
“Things change,” came her old words back at her.
“Apparently. So… we just go to sleep, then? Luna will do everything?”
Celestia nodded in the half-dark. “Yes. Be prepared. I know for myself that the experience can be a shock. I’m curious as to how you adapt. If you keep your wits, you’ll do fine. Explaining beforehand would be pointless. You’ll see why when we cross over.”
“It’s all a bit daunting, put that way.” Twilight shifted slightly under the covers. “Your covers are ridiculous. How do you not smother yourself in these?”
Celestia snickered. “Twilight, I can’t even tell you how ridiculous I find that statement. Or this situation. Or you. I almost wish to frame this moment, were it not for the fact you’d never forgive me.”
“Rarity would murder me for not telling her about the non-existent scuttlebutt. Also, she would probably learn necromancy just to get me back and badger me for equally non-existent scandalous details.”
“I’m sure you could make up some real scorchers, something that would satisfy her.”
“Yes, but… eh.” Twilight shrugged. She yawned. “It’s not the best part of her.”
“Hm.”
“So…”
“So.”
They both smiled at each other, though it was hard to see. “Ready to meet your Court?”
“If nothing else, I’m ready to know what you mean by that.”
“Oh,” Celestia said, and put out the candle. “You’ll see.”
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Curses...have to wait another chapter to see twilight's court
7200080 yeh
God they just keep talking
I can't make them stop.
7200080
oh
i didnt think the author would literally take what i said n' do it
chapter thirteen
gg
7200113
Not to mention I keep accidentally calling it the Court of The Magi.
I need to read The Gift of The Magi again sometime...
The wait between chapters causes much anguish in me because this really is the best story I've read on here in ages. Just something about it drew me in then sunk it's tentacles deep. Now it holds me tight in a totally consensual embrace.
The way you write Celestia is consistently... well, she's basically a nonstop trainwreck. Like, she puts on airs of serenity and infallibility as usual, but I feel like your Celestia is always still an awkward teenager even after a couple thousand years.
And yet you make it work.
Oh LOVE IT I really hope to read more soon
7200113
Sign of good writing, when the author cannot keep the words of characters from spilling out.
They're already adorable together.
7200905 Twilight's love letters are actually just reading lists and correspondence chess
Dawn decides immediately that she is the most superior consort
DUH... her Court is the rest of the Mane Six!
I'm frothing at the mouth waiting for the next chapter. I haven't frothed since the Old Days.
7202044 sounds like rabies.... Or lycanthropy
I'll bring the silver
Commence read.
Almost there.
WANT IT NOW. The Vespertide Court.
I have nothing deep to say, other than I really like this story and can't wait for the next chapter.
7205461
everything i knew is a lie
7205476 welcome to my world every day
Have I ever mentioned how I much I love the way you write Luna? I love the way you write Luna.
7206961 What is good in life, Luna?
"TO SMASH MINE ENEMIES WITH A HAMMER, TORMENT OUR SISTER LOVINGLY, AND FEAST. Do we not do the whole harem thing anymore? Damn."
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You know, I've always imagined it's Celestia who used the big blunt object to terminate trouble. A very big and shiny spiked mace, the original Morningstar that gave its name to the whole class of weapons. Luna, I see more of a spear-fighter... or maybe carrying a silver scythe. (Cadance, of course, is an archer.)
you already know
don't need the second if.
Using the dream excursion as an excuse to get in bed with your crush...I love it!