Her Own Sky

by Ice Star

Chapter 1: Nebula

Princess Celestia had received many unusual requests in her long life. The ponies of the Equestrian gentry were always where the most 'unusual' requests would originate from. No matter what, she could always count on there being one rather eccentric pony whose petitions could only be met with a polite smile, even kinder refusal, and the wave of her hoof so her meeting with the next petitioner could begin. She may give everypony her time, but she only ever had to listen. Sometimes, that was the most that ponies got, and they were too entranced by the sweetness and demurity she maintained in their conversations. With it, she could steer the most unpleasant of her subjects away with smiles on their faces, making them nigh-unaware of the pleasure they were taking in how she had refused them. Such was the blinding light of the sun goddess!

None of those mortals had ever broken her composure or caused her to stop in her tracks. The last rays of an Equestrian sunset were already bleeding from the walls and falling to shadows on the floor. This gave the whole gleaming hall of Canterlot Castle an air of mystery, of holding its breath, and a trance that she could not puzzle out.

Not a single Faithful Student had ever surprised her so. Every one of the little unicorns she had plucked from her school and stood in her shadow was a bundle of predictability. Never had one been able to so much as startle her—

At least not quite like this, she thought. Princess Celestia was glad that Twilight Sparkle could not see the momentary flicker of dismay across her face. That flicker was not for tiny Twilight Sparkle, and Princess Celestia did not wish to offend this latest little unicorn — her youngest-ever Faithful Student — and have to explain herself. She was only recalling the final deeds of the last unicorn to bear the title of Faithful Student and where her stubborn nature had led her, and how she had strayed from all the light that Princess Celestia had tried to offer her—

—for a mere reflection of a world.

The little filly that stood behind her, dramatically bathed in shadow cocked her head to the side. Twilight Sparkle blinked as the first swathes of moonlight began to overtake the many-windowed corridor. Outside, the night was just another dim shadow of what it could be. Such was every dusk that generations of Celestia's little ponies had known, her Faithful Students among them.

"Princess...?" Twilight Sparkle asked cautiously. Her voice lifts in a timid crack at the end as she stared at the ageless goddess that was her new teacher.

The light on the princess' horn died once the moon was visible in the sky, bringing forth only an imitation of what the night could be — the same kind that Princess Celestia had brought forth for over nine hundred years. She regained her composure immediately. After all, if this filly were to live in the castle Celestia would need to be able to speak to her gently as a teacher, even more gently than the image of a monarch she presented to her Equestrian subjects and their allies. She tried to think of the last time a student of hers had been so young and knew that Twilight Sparkle was still just shy of the usual age that unicorn foals were when they applied to her school.

Twilight's parents had certainly put high expectations on the withers of their previously-homeschooled daughter. Twilight Velvet and Nightlight had told their princess-goddess all about how much the timid, autistic filly had to be pushed to even attempt the School for Gifted Unicorn's exam at the age she did. Like many parents, they had even selected Twilight Sparkle's eventual degree on her guardian application to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns when Twilight would be of age to move into the postsecondary part of the campus.

(That degree was currently null since the little filly was a Faithful Student, wholly separate in schooling. But it had been a completely unsurprising choice — library science was perfect for Twilight Sparkle, and Princess Celestia was certainly going to keep Twilight's parent's choice in mind.)

Then, Princess Celestia dismissed the distraction and replaced her uncertain expression with a soft smile and turned to look down at Twilight Sparkle.

With her darker coat, she almost blended into the shadows — especially one as big as Celestia's own. The princess had to conjure a simple werelight of gold aura as kind as she appeared, all to help her little student see in the dark halls. The shadows retreated but continued to dance upon both of their faces as the bobbing werelight mixed with the last meager light of the evening.

In seconds, Princess Celestia's weak night reigned in full.

"Yes, Twilight?" Celestia asked softly.

"Did I ask too much, Y-Your H-Highness? I-I know it's only my second-night h-here. It's j-just that when I was trying to finish unpacking my books I found this—" Twilight interrupted herself by levitating a hefty novel in front of her face like a shield, "—and... I'm sorry, Princess. You probably have something better to do a-and—"

"May I see your book, Twilight Sparkle?" Celestia asked, taking it upon herself to interrupt when it became clear the filly was struggling to explain herself. For Celestia, that wasn't of much concern — she had autistic Faithful Students in the past.

Twilight nodded sheepishly and passed her book to the Princess, who eyed the cover coolly while Twilight anticipated her reply. The filly was clearly stunned at how forward she had been. It was obvious to the princess where her student's thoughts were straying: that everypony knows that nopony bothers the princess and here she had just requested that—

"A Crinkle in Time?" Celestia questioned, trying to see the faded gold-leaf letters in the dark.

"You almost had it," Twilight whispered happily. "This is my favorite book, and Shiny used to read it to me all the time!"

"And you would like me to read it to you?"

"Yes," she admitted. Twilight looked at the floor.

To Princess Celestia, it was quite plain that Twilight Sparkle had thought she sounded so silly when she had first asked. Poor Twilight likely felt even sillier now that the princess was holding her book.

Celestia flipped over the book, glancing at the illustrations on the back. Like the letters on the front, they were faded as well and the book's summary was unreadable in the dimly lit hallway.

"Well, Twilight, I must admit that there is a problem here. Do you know what it is?"

Twilight studied the carpet very carefully.

"Do you think I can read this in the dark?"

Twilight looked up quickly, violet eyes wide with surprise. "Really, Princess? This isn't a joke? You're... okay with reading to me."

Celestia offered her student a small smile and then nodded down the hall. "You are my student, Twilight Sparkle. Getting to know you is important to me."

Twilight looked as if she was about to protest or question something — and Celestia was thankful when she didn't.

...

Celestia closed the door behind her carefully. She waited with her lips pursued in a dark room until even the echo of her hoofsteps had all but left her mind. A single word was taking up the mental space where the dying melody had been.

Different.

It was a word that had caused so much strife for Celestia. They — her and another dear to her heart — had been different from the tribes, ponies, and all form of mortal creatures. For it, Celestia and her companion had suffered terribly, and their various abuses were even deemed acceptable. Her companion... Celestia would think of her differently as time wore on; the one who she called her companion was her kin, and what broke them in the north broke their bond too. However, it was only when they came south again to the lands of four seasons and plenty did the tears really begin to show — and Celestia had not helped then, but she would give anything to go back and do so forever and again. The many different thoughts and behaviors would lead her kin to be shunned by her own nation and—

Celestia swallowed and the quick recollection of a prophecy vanished, one that still only hung as probably-true in her heart. She might need them later. Though, part of her wished that she might not, for the sake of Twilight Sparkle and her novels of vegetable gardens and missing fathers. She did not wish to have Twilight Sparkle as the student she must eventually gamble, who must be the destined Spark cast from the fire that was her teacher and into—

And still, part of her wished that words once dismissed as prattle could be true. This was, of course, only for the sake of some greater balance and the things and ponies swept up in it: broken hearts and missing kin. Princess Celestia hoped that 'different' wouldn't be wrong this time, that the thorns of that word would not show. That Twilight Sparkle would not wind up in stone. With a shaky breath as her prayer, she wanted Twilight Sparkle to never know the vices of power that could steer her to hurt others so that only one like Celestia could ever stand in her way. She prayed that Twilight Sparkle would not be beyond control at any point in her life under Celestia's sun, not when a prophecy rested solely upon her mortal withers.

And with the knowledge of after all these years, there would be no more tears to choke back lest those words are honestly true. Princess Celestia wished that Twilight Sparkle would not be different enough to be impossibly far away from any who hold her dear and that they might never have to strike out her name until she barely clung to memory.

She did not want Twilight Sparkle to be that kind of legend, the kind that left those who survived her having to say she was a story.

Celestia did not want Twilight Sparkle to be different — full stop — even though she had to be.

After all was done, Celestia locked the door, sealing it with a tap of her horn. She watched as the ripple of gold extended from her horn before she moved on to lighting the room. In no mood to light any proper lamps or risk a true fire, she lit her horn and a group of werelights, each bobbing like a school of fish. All of them were pale gold, like weak miniature suns, and swam in the air.

Or a sky full of the frailest stars. Celestia tried not to close her eyes and remember the filly who would create dozens of eccentric and unusual uses for blue lights like arcane fireflies — each had been infused with a magic light of Otherness that Celestia could not replicate. She was glad she could not produce that same, haunting quality just as much as she missed it. Instead, Princess Celestia drew her focus in the direction of the wall-to-ceiling bookshelves. Each was neatly packed tomes that any polymath of magical fields and skill would likely sell their souls for. They were not hidden away and rotting in some derelict cellar — at least not anymore — but the public had no access to them, nor would they ever. Even Twilight Sparkle would never get the chance to breathe on them. These books weren't Celestia's, not really. She was only keeping the most... interesting selections from the library of her old home, and as a result, these books had become hers and hers alone.

The mare who had originally worked out so much of their contents would despise Celestia if she knew this. Let Luna hate her more. That was Celestia's usual answer for herself. If it was destined, so be it. Luna had reason to stoke her own wrath at her so-called 'art' being in the hooves of Celestia, who had never had the heart or mind to see it the same as Luna had.

Very little in the books could be described as inherently forbidden, just advanced. Even for the time they had been published at, these books were boasting knowledge that had been made illegal, for it was brimming with all the secrets of old-and-forgotten civilizations and older gods — Alicorn gods. This meant that the age of the text written in them was not what was advanced, not when most of it had been authored in the post-Discord days by Luna's own hoof. Ponies still lived in rain, ruin, and huts in those days.

Carefully, Celestia levitated a book from the place where it had gathered dust for so long and began to flip through a few pages. All she could do was murmur a few wishes for her mind to be at its clearest so that she might have insight into all the enigmas that Luna had been able to weave. She bit her lip as she looked at all the scribbles and margin notes. She glanced at crossed-out paragraphs replaced with scrawled codes, pictographs, and mirror writing that spelled out half-tested theories and notes of cautious speculation and estimates. The sheer state of the marginalia reeked of madness and was twisted in on itself with paranoid hornwriting.

She remembered the mare who wrote them — she was the one Celestia could never forget. While she hadn't been some great, socially-accepted archmage or any renowned scholar, Luna's notes were sure to have merit for what Celestia so desperately needed. After all, her sister had made many observations and magical experiments of her own, though they had lacked the formality and some of the adherence to the stricter rules of magical study that Celestia favored. Of course, they were so beyond any mortal magic that Celestia had ever seen, even in the present age, which was precisely what made these tomes all the more fearful.

But if she could decode some of the things that her lost Luna had written...

Celestia drew a sharp breath when her coat came in contact with one of the werelights, warming her white coat briefly. Unpleasantly, even.

She laid the book down on the nearby, forlorn table without a word. Then, Princess Celestia located a small wooden end table overshadowed by the many bookshelves that towered over it. From a small drawer, she withdrew a blank notebook, an inkwell, and quills. Each was caked with numerous layers of dust thick enough to eat if Celestia were to do such a dreadful thing.

Her habit of biting her lip a certain way had never vanished after all these years, only lessened. It meant that she was worried about somepony.

Somepony very special, who at long last might have a chance to come home if Princess Celestia made all the right moves. If the prophecy could really be true.

Quill scratches were the only sound in the small library, filled with an incomplete collection of private tomes that the sun princess struggled to decode even a few lines of. She stared at the holes that marked missing words in entire sentences. Closing her eyes, she thought of the young Twilight Sparkle asleep in her bed, a few chapters of her favorite novel no doubt infecting her dreams while a single word haunted the princess: different.

Twilight Sparkle was different — as much as Celestia loathed to admit it — she had as much potential as any other student of Celestia's, maybe even a bit more if her cutie mark was to be taken into consideration. None of Celestia's previous curriculum would suffice for this Faithful Student, not if the prophecy that would soar beyond potential and cutie marks. She'd need to incorporate something more effective than mere magic theory — an altered version of Luna's research would do nicely if she could make it compatible with her teaching methods and the intensity of the workload she had saddled her previous students with. Only now, there would be a sharpened goal. A destined purpose that made Celestia thirst for that completion more than any wicked journey.

This time, the title of Faithful Student would really mean something.

...

Celestia stood outside Twilight Sparkle's chamber. There was a hot mug of coffee adorned with a smiling sun grasped in her magic, along with a notebook of ideas for magic exercises and a textbook of standard magical theory, though unfortunately the latter would not prove to be as useful. It wasn't anything that could be found in a public academy — any pictures and a majority of other visuals had been reduced to make room for text meant for adult unicorns. It was the same theory she used on all Faithful Students, regardless of their age or ability, and now it would only be an instrument to standardize one-of-a-kind (courtesy of Luna's indirect ghost-writing) divine-authored education.

The princess had looked over the materials she had chosen late into the night, and it was not merely caffeine that buzzed with the songs of exhaustion she had to mask. In her head, she was not sure if any of these materials could suit a ten-year-old like Twilight. Not when most of her Faithful Students were thirteen at their lowest — nine-year-old Sunset Shimmer being the only exception. Twilight had taken the entrance exam in 992 of Celestia's Solar Millennium, but her tutelage had to be delayed even though she was the youngest ever unicorn to pass the entrance exam. She had so little separation from her family in her young life that it was too difficult not to see the same six-year-old that Princess Celestia had first met. Such was the wealth of innocence that Twilight Sparkle possessed, and why it made it so easy for Celestia to still proclaim that Twilight Sparkle was the youngest of them all.

She took a short sip of her coffee, wishing she had added a little more cream. Bitterness in any form was bothersome, and like her emotions, she always had to mask it thoroughly. The image of a sun on it only smiled up at her in response. She smiled absently at the extremely foalish drawing. It may have been cheesy, but she still liked it.

Celestia reached out a forehoof and knocked again. The door was flung open and the coat of magenta magic over it faded and dissolved, revealing a little filly hugging a doll with bright, spotted pants and a clock to her chest. It must have been one of the many surprises from home that Twilight had packed away, for Princess Celestia had not seen it before. None of her other Faithful Students had been young enough to still have brought toys with them — at least, it was usually what Celestia would expect to be a phase that didn't last. Sunset Shimmer had craved maturity most unnaturally, and Twilight Sparkle was just so babyish in comparison.

"Did I sleep in?" Twilight Sparkle blinked up at her princess with an unbrushed mane and large, damp eyes. There was a whisper of worry corked in her young voice.

"You only slept in ten minutes, Twi—"

"T-Ten minutes...?" Twilight's eyes flashed with slowly dawning horror, as raw as it could be at her age. "How much did I miss? Are there any quizzes that I need to catch up on?"

"Nothing, Twilight—"

"Will I have to do extra credit assignments to make up for this?"

"You didn't miss anything—"

"I haven't even started my lessons and I'm already failing!"

"You aren't failing anything, Twilight Sparkle."

The little filly loosened the choking grip she had on her doll. "I'm not?"

"That's right. I came up here to offer you a simple reminder that the lessons were starting today. I imagine you'd want breakfast as well, and I'm not one to withhold pancakes from a little filly. The castle kitchen always has them on the first days — you do want them to get to know what food you like, don't you? They'll be making all your meals from now on."

Normally, the Faithful Students of Princess Celestia always jumped at the chance to eat a rich breakfast prepared by the staff at the kitchen, but Twilight Sparkle wrinkled up her muzzle instead. Celestia did not think it was because she had any distaste for the renowned chefs who worshipfully used their talents catered to the tastes of the sun goddess. Twilight Sparkle's parents had mailed a whole home-stapled booklet — divided into volumes, no less — about all the behaviors of Twilight Sparkle. They had been their daughter's only carers in life and never had Celestia been faced with having a filly with quite the hunger for order, desire for adult dictation, and specific environmental needs that Twilight Sparkle would have. She already needed a duo of royal guards to calm her meltdown when there hadn't been enough sticky-tabs to help sort her junior encyclopedias and Daring Do based on a filly-crafted decimal system.

"I'm not failing anything?" Twilight echoed with such palpable nervousness already sending her young legs into trembles.

"That is correct," Celestia repeated, adjusting the position of the notebook from last night, lest it fall to the ground and the papers within scatter onto the floor.

"Princess, if I'm not failing... how come you didn't tell me?"

Princess Celestia smiled kindly and suggested that they go find Twilight something to eat, her right eye twitching once, and only faintly.

Twilight Sparkle was going to be very different alright.

Author's Note:

[Revised for print on 10/12/2020]

Comments

[Veylon]

Closing her eyes, she thought of the young Twilight Sparkle asleep in her bed, a few chapters of her favorite novel no doubt infecting her dreams while a single word haunted the princess: different.

That scene on Camazotz where a little boy is jerking in pain every time he bounces his ball differently than his compatriots.

[Csquared08]

One thing I have noticed is that you use hyphens where you should use em dashes (—).

This was a fun start.

[Ice Star]

9445621

One thing I have noticed is that you use hyphens where you should use em dashes (—).

Yeah, that's kinda been an always-thing with my writing. Spaced hyphens are certainly a form I've seen used in writing before, and they just kinda stuck.

You started this pretty quick, though.

[Hereward]

9445621
That's a common occurrence with fanfiction writers; we're used to writing with a type of software that automatically turns hyphens to em dashes when they're preceded and followed by spaces.

[Ice Star]

10502409
Many of my stories were written on software that didn’t have that. This is different in the updated versions.