• Published 18th Jun 2016
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Have You Considered My Servant, Twilight? - Cynewulf



Luna tests Twilight's faithful resolve.

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Have You Considered My Servant, Twilight?

There was a space between herself and the music, Celestia noted. Perhaps there had always been that space, keeping her from a final and complete enjoyment of the old music, and only now that it had been filled from time to time did she truly understand her own incompleteness.


Specifically, in Luna’s absence, listening to the old works and to the geniuses that came after seemed a little more hollow until at last she had forgotten all of her previous joy.


Sitting in the royal box, she felt again that space--filled, at present, by Luna of the sharpest eye and roving spirit--and wondered if it were something beyond mere loneliness. How adrift she had been without the dark to balance out the day. She wondered also if perhaps the world must change. But only for a moment. It was pointless to speculate much, and besides: she had already determined to enjoy these outings with her sister without any tiniest shadow of the past or its discontents to hang over her. They had apologized enough, and sat awkwardly enough, and generally done all sorts of things that were not enjoying one another, and it was high time they find something else to do.


Tonight was the symphony. She was going to introduce Luna to that one bar on Saddle Street in a few weeks, once she was sure Luna could stay in character. Maybe even that particular club beside it… Well. It would be more Luna’s style, honestly. In theory. But it was a bit scandalous and she was if nothing else given to an abiding and occasionally boring sense of propriety.


Luna stirred slightly, and Celestia watched her with interest. The face she watched so intently for any sign of expression was more or less a stoic mask. It was hard for the Sun to understand the Moon’s mercurial nature, but she did at least recognize it for what it was. She remembered in equal measures those times when Luna appeared to be moved and those when she did not, and had found in both cases that there was always more beneath the face her sister wore than what was at first visible.


It was that mercurial depth that had been both their undoing, really, hadn’t it?


She pursed her lips and returned her focus to the music.





Another night, and Celestia sat alone in her study. It was late--far more late than she was usually wont to keep herself alert and up, and yet the usual wariness of a long day full of work did not come. It was nice, she supposed ruefully, not to feel worn down. It was not nice to not be able to sleep because of it.


She turned the page of her book, and the noise was like thunder in the quiet.


Reading was familiar. She had, after all, been reading almost as long as there had been letters or symbols by which to read. It was something she had shared for untold years with her sister, as they both gleefully poured over the rare scroll in their endless young journeys. Later, it had been a point of connection between herself and Twilight, that most precocious and worthy of fillies.


History. Reading about history had always been strange. Reading about oneself is, after all, a bit odd. Why had she chosen this? What had led her to--


She stopped reading as soon as she felt the new presence step silently out of the darkest shadows of her study’s corner.


“Good evening,” she said, not looking up. She smirked into her book. “From whence do you come, sister mine?”


Luna’s voice was flat. “From going to and fro along the earth, and from walking through the aether, if you truly wish to know.” She did not yet advance from her corner and so sat in the darkness beyond the reach of Celestia’s glow. “You are up late.”


“Yes. Sleep eludes me, I fear. It happens from time to time.” Celestia cast about for a bookmark and saved her place before stretching. She smiled at the glittering eyes of her sister in the darkness.


How unalike they were, an in how many ways. To those outside their world of two, Luna appeared very different. But in private they were themselves more often. Celestia let some of her glory slip and she shone softly. Her eyes were like searchlights and her mane felt like the touch of fire. Luna sank into the shadows, first simply by choice and then before your eyes she would seem softer somehow, as if she were fading, and then at last her eyes would watch you from the darkness and her body would be unascertainable. Celestia alone could illuminate the depths of Luna’s true darkness, but more often than not she chose not to. It was, to be frank, rude. Also, a bit unpleasant for her little sister to endure up close.


“I could help,” Luna said.



“I’ve no doubt you could.” Celestia smiled at her more fully now. “I didn’t wish to disturb you for trifles, and I was enjoying wearing myself out with a book. How has the night passed?”


“It passes strangely and in deepest thought.” Still, her tone was flat. Celestia found it, firstly, odd. “As to my duties, Court was light. The Inspection of the Night’s Guard went rather well, I’d say. Your suggestion to open up recruitment to the other tribes has not backfired yet, though the reception was mixed.”


“Traditionalists?” Celestia asked, leaning forward to rest her head on her forelegs. “Of course. There are always traditionalists who haven’t quite grasped how fleeting their traditions have proved.” She sighed and tilted her head to the side a bit. “And what are your thoughts?”


She was always careful not to look directly at Luna when her Glory shone through. Her lighted sight saw through most everything, and in more ways than one. It was a bit rude, really, she thought idly.


“In the past, it seemed foolish to expect of dayponies to watch the whole night,” Luna said, losing some of her flat aloofness. The workings of her guard had always delighted the younger princess. “And yet, I have found that the world has moved on even in this. You spoke the truth when you said to me once that ponies now rise at all hours of the night. The new conscripts have a few unicorns in their number and I found them satisfying.”


“Good. I’ve tried to keep the Nightwatch in mind so that I might give it back to you as a gift.”


She could not see Luna smile, but she knew that she did. The Sun saw all things, after all. Just and unjust alike.


“You’ve something on your mind,” Celestia said.


“Yes.”


“Would you like to speak about it? You know that I am always here for you.”


“That is why I have come,” Luna said.


There was a brief silence. Celestia looked at everything, never focusing anywhere near Luna for too long. They both knew this was to Luna’s own benefit. Her sight illuminated much.


What a strange picture this would be to her little ponies. Even to Twilight, freshly minted a princess as she was. It had taken Cadance a few years to become used to Celestia’s aura of Glory. She was still not entirely comfortable with Luna’s almost material darkness.


Her study was divided right down the middle between searing light and deepest darkness. From behind her desk, enchanted against her own blisteringly hot touch, Celestia shone like the sunrise from five feet away. She had blinded a pony this way before. Several, in fact, and all at once. The one and only time she had lt slip her fullest aura during her long reign, the only witness had died. And beyond the boundary of twilight somewhere along the nice modest rug there was an ever more solid wall of midnight. It looked solid to the touch, like a roiling oil that billowed. Like it was alive. It was, in a way. Celestia tried not to think about it.


“I see things,” Luna began, slowly. Carefully. “I see many things, and I am alarmed at them, amazed at them. The world has changed much since last I walked among ponies, but not in ways that I like.”


“Things have always changed.”


Luna snorted. “Yes, I know that as well as you. Speak not the obvious, dearest and largest of candles.”


Celestia smiled and waited for Luna to tease out the rest of her argument.


Another difference: the sun saw and was constant. Mostly. The Moon jumped and changed and altered. The Moon’s fury could die or become something else entirely with ease, but the Sun’s anger when at last it was woken was as eternally unbearable as the height of summer. So Celestia was patient. Luna was not.


“But a curious mood came upon me recently as I listened to the things that our servants say when they believe we do not hear them. And I found that the more ponies I listened to, the more the feeling grew.”


Celestia frowned at last. “And what have you heard?”


She thought again of her sister’s fury. “They know not who guards them! I, whom they despise, no matter how hard she works for their peace!”


“Treachery.” Luna growled then, wordless. “Sister, I confess to you that I begin to see a shadow over the hearts of so many. They treat you less as their liege and more as a granddam upon which they dote. You are loved, yes, but not respected. This I could perhaps ignore as merely a product of an age of soft living…”


Celestia made to interject, but Luna’s pause was short. She rushed on.


“But what concerns me most, and it pains me greatly to say so, is that I fear the possibility of corruption arising from this laxitude. It was not until the land grew peaceful that the seeds of my own discontent were sown. I worry that history may repeat itself… and not with me playing the part of the fallen.”


Celestia’s careful admonitions, all planned out, fell apart then. They collapsed suddenly and completely. “What? You’re worried that… soft living will breed betrayal? That’s a bit of a stretch.”


“Perhaps. Perhaps--but I pray you listen, I have had my ears to the ground and to the walls, and I do not like what I have heard with them.


“What have they said?”


A short pause. Luna coughed. “The nobles grumble—”


“As they always have.”


“The guards are prone to faction—”


“Of political sort? Because if this has to do with the rivalry between squadrons, I’m well aware. It’s harmless.”


“But these are trifles. They were the appetizer and I too dismissed them,” Luna cut in, sounding frustrated. “Will you not do me the courtesy of listening?”


Celestia thought about the space between herself and the music. The empty aching.


“I’ll listen.”


Luna sighed. “Good.” The darkness seemed to move about her, but Celestia could not see why. “The nobles have let themselves become complacent in regards to your power, and so think of you as somepony to be toyed with. Of course, you are not, and certain houses have always vexed sane folk, but in the days of our youth such ponies did not dare to stand against us for they knew our power and our wisdom.”


Celestia snorted at wisdom. “I would agree to the first, at least. They feared the hammer of Selene.”


She imagined Luna grinning, her fangs flashing. She almost thought she saw them. But she did not see either of these things. As always, she saw only what she might see at midnight in the mirror: nothing that suggested form but frustrated it.


“The way they see you—see us, I might add—now,” Luna began slowly, “is dangerous. It is dangerous not because they will succeed because the houses are shadows of their former selves in every way, but because they may yet find themselves in the perfect time and place.”


“Be specific.”


The eyes in the darkness, so like stars, seemed to draw back further in. “I cannot be. It is more dread than suspicion. I cannot abide this variable. We must test our new comrades. We must know they will not… will not do as I have done. Anypony is fallible.”


Celestia took a deep breath. Ah. She saw where this was going.


“You think they’ll try to get to Twilight or Cadance. Or her daughter, eventually.”


“I think that it is inevitable that some malcontent will try, or that perhaps… perhaps they themselves…”


Celestia shook her head.


“Luna, this is absurd. For a variety of reasons, I can’t go down this path with you. Firstly, why would Twilight or Cadance turn against you or I? I know for a fact that Twilight loves me and that she considers you a dear friend. Further, I have ponies who were once students of mine in the Crystal Palace. They gossip aplenty, and from them I have determined that my--our--niece is not simply a delightful and happy mare but a decidedly good-hearted ruler with little tolerance for the proud and the haughty and endless patience for the weak and the hard-pressed.”


“Cadance I could perhaps be persuaded about,” Luna said. “She is older, more stable. Tied down by marriage to a pony who spent years in your devoted service… yes, I will concede that battle to you, but the campaign continues. Twilight Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle, Twilight Sparkle--what can there be made of her? You say she loves you… and I believe it. Would I not also love the goddess who hedged about my life protection and who gave me all good things whenever I wished?”


Celestia’s patience thinned, but did not break. “Luna, as I love you, you will remember that we both owe Twilight a great deal.”


“I do not mean to attack her.”


“You come closer and closer.”


“Then hear me say also that I love her dearly as my first friend in this forsaken age,” Luna grumbled. As if ashamed. No, Celestia thought suddenly, as if affronted that anypony had dared to question that such was ever true. “But as I love her, if you are to speak of the bonds of affection, so I also fear her and for her. She is impressionable and young. Malleable, malleable, all too malleable. Changing, more so than we three. I ask you again: you say she loves you, but does she love you, or does she love the dawn-colored hoof that proffers all good gifts?”


Celestia, builder of cities and giver of good gifts indeed, squeezed her eyes shut and thought. She paused for the space of a second, but within her mind worked feverishly.


Twilight had been her student in one way or another for fourteen years. Admitted at six, graduating through the first five years in three, becoming her primary student at thirteen and her only student at fifteen. She was extraordinary.


And over time, Celestia had heard ponies insinuate what her sister spoke openly. They did so with every bright student who found him or herself in one on one lessons with the mare who spoke to the sun. It was an inevitability, as much as ponies imagined the day was. She had borne it and helped her precious young pupils to ignore such suggestions of favoritism.


But it wasn’t as if that suggestion was without foundation.


Yes, like any endeavour carried out on Earth, Celestia’s tutelage of the best and brightest of the three tribes within her principality sometimes faltered. Students who should have done great things did not—some lost faith in themselves, some lost faith in her—and there had been those few, those damnable few, who had been false in the end. Who had truly only loved the gift and not the giver.


Every single one had wounded her heart. The absence of their letters she felt even hundreds of years later like the loss of a child. Because, honestly, it was the loss of a child. Each student that turned from the light to pursue their own greed was a foal torn from her warm embrace.


By that accounting, she had lost many foals. The last had been Sunset Shimmer.


“Twilight is…”


“Sacrosanct, more or less,” Luna said.


“Her person? I assure you, she has been in danger.”


“Yes, dangers she was well equipped beforehoof for. How convenient. Think! Think, I just wish that you would think with me a moment. Every challenge, every door, a key has lain waiting for her merely to grab it when at last she saw. Indirectly, I will give you that. But you have plucked her out of every fire and soothed her burns with honeyed kisses and silver words.you have put her a little lower than ourselves in the order of things without having ever truly tested her.”


“Luna…” Celestia sighed. “What else do you want? I tested her ability and her lore. I tested her courage. She tested her courage independently of me. Sister, for goodness sakes, Twilight has proved her mettle and her heart already.”


“She has proved that she is gracious in victory. She has proved that she has courage and great heart… in the first blush of danger. But she has not had to face the only trial that matters.”


Celestia tried not to grind her teeth. “And that would be?”


“Failure. Utter failure. Total defeat. Absolute loss.”


Celestia did many things to channel her frustrations and her annoyance. When she sat in Court, she massaged her temples and closed her eyes. When she worked alone in her office, she doodled rude pictures. When she was in her natural state, shining as the sun, she turned up the temperature.


It was already hotter, but with every passing moment it felt as if the sun was dancing closer and closer.


“I am not going to do something irreversible to Twilight in order to appease your unreasonable worry,” Celestia said, trying to balance steel with calm. “You know that it’s wrong. It would be a betrayal not only of the trust that our power is a sign of but of Twilight’s own trust in us. In you, personally, as her friend and ally… in me as her former teacher and as he friend.”


“Then I will do it. I never intended for you to do anything.” Luna sniffed. She seemed to edge further back into the darkness as the room began to simmer. “You know that my realm is my own and is inviolate.”


Celestia did know this. She knew the nature of things.


But she growled. “Luna, you would also betray me, then? Even while you ramble about others doing the same, you will do so to Twilight and I in a single fell swoop.”


The shadows dissolved with shocking suddenness and Luna stepped forward with wild eyes. “Nay! I would rather that you would listen and not force my wrath! Will you not for a moment question your own choices? Even if only to safeguard us all?”


“There is wisdom, there is discernment, and then there is a lack of faith. A lack of trust. A lack, sister, of love.” Celestia struggled to bring herself back under control. The room cooled slightly.


Luna looked away. “I do not wish to lose another. Do you want to see Twilight banished to… to… I do not even know what the Elements would do to her.”


“Stone, most likely,” Celestia said softly. “If I had to guess.” She too looked away.


“If you know of a way to help guard Twilight’s heart from the burdens that come with power… if you know some charm or spell that can soothe the heartaches of longevity or make meaning of the repetition of the sufferings that it brings…” Luna shrugged.


Celestia was silent.


“Twilight Sparkle is my friend,” Luna continued, “but I am afraid. Did you not think that I too was once your friend? Your confidant? Your sister? And yet…”


“Please don’t,” Celestia spoke at last.


“If I do not, then you shall never be prepared.”


But her sister refused. She shook her head. “You’re only going to rile up our mutual friend and hurt both of us in the process. I can’t stop you if you go that route and I know that won’t listen. I just want you to be prepared.” Celestia stood up straight then, and looked Luna in the eye. “And I will extract an oath from you.”


Luna’s brow furrowed, but then smoothed. “Speak your oath.”


“You will not touch Twilight’s person. You will do no physical harm, and you will try to minimize any damage in the world beyond dreams to others or Twilight herself. I’ve seen your work,” she added.


Luna flinched.


Imperiously, Celestia rolled on. “You will have three nights, and then you must swear to me that you will be satisfied. Three nights. Four, if you will go to her at the end and confess what you have done. I will not make you swear to do so, so do not bother with bickering.” Her voice softened. “I will tell you, however, that it would be the right thing to do.”


They watched each other for a moment, and then Luna bowed slightly. “I swear to you these things, that I will not hurt Twilight nor will I by inaction let her come to harm because of my trial. I will keep Twilight’s trial confined to her alone. And when the three days of her suffering have come to an end, I shall confront her myself and reveal my part in her sorrows, and we shall deal face to face.”


There was a tense moment where perhaps they both thought, as one, that this would be where they began to erode the bonds of growing trust. Celestia could do nothing, by the ancient law, older than herself. Dreams were Luna’s to command. Luna was bound, however, by her word. The geas placed on her was strong.


Celestia and Luna, Princess and the advocate of darkness. Locked circling one another once again.


Celestia thought of the hollow feeling between herself and the music.


“Do what you will,” she said, and then returned to her chair. Luna vanished hurriedly. No, she fled. Celestia slumped and her light dimmed. “Do what you will,” she told the empty study.


It was just nightmares. Dreams never hurt ponies.


So why did she feel that she had let some terrible thing occur right under her nose?

Author's Note:

6 Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came among them. 7 And the Lord said to Satan, “From where do you come?”

So Satan answered the Lord and said, “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking back and forth on it.”

8 Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered My servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, one who fears God and shuns evil?”

9 So Satan answered the Lord and said, “Does Job fear God for nothing? 10 Have You not made a hedge around him, around his household, and around all that he has on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. 11 But now, stretch out Your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse You to Your face!”

12 And the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power; only do not lay a hand on his person.”

So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.