Reliquum Noctis

by ashi

II. Fifth

A thousand years of division summed up by one simple oak door; Celestia stood, more reticent than she'd ever been about anything, with a golden-shod hoof poised in the air like a judge about to bang their gavel and deliver a sentence. She tried to tell herself that Luna had just been blowing off steam – after such a long period away it was only natural that she would have some stress to deal with – and that she was worrying over nothing, but a prolonged stream of invective aimed at seemingly nothing in particular convinced her otherwise. If this was Luna's way of coping, then her sister dearly needed to learn the simple pleasures of a soapy bubble bath and a team of masseurs immediately. Luna's voice, from what she could make out, was angry … angry, but there was a not of something else in there, too.

Fear?

Politely, though timidly might've been a more apt phrase, Celestia's hoof pecked at the door like a startled colt fumbling over his first kiss. So tiny, so delicate was the knock, even Celestia herself was having trouble hearing it. Almost immediately, however, all activity from Luna's chamber ceased, and though she knew that she ought to be grateful for the cessation in whatever hostilities she was enacting against the irreplaceable décor, Celestia was even more alarmed by the protracted, awful silence. The sort of silence that one could almost hear as an accusation.

The absolute stillness preyed on her mind, and she was tempted to simply turn tail and leave, letting Luna get on with whatever it was she was doing, but … what was that?

A single, solitary cry. The sort of half-hearted sob that one can only manage when they know that no one is really listening to them, anyway.

To Tartarus with royal decorum! Not even bothering to use her magic to incinerate the door, or teleport through it, Celestia's first instinct was to shoulder barge the heavy wooden barricade between her and her sister. It splintered into a million fragments under the assault, and Celestia winced as shards dug into her skin. Very few things in Equestria could stand up to the strength of an alicorn – that perfect blending of all the pony races – especially not one empowered by love and compassion for one's own kin.

Celestia had lived for a long time; so long now that even she had trouble remembering how it had all began, and it would doubtless – barring accidents – continue for a long time to come. Few things in life had the force to startle her, to shake her to her very core. She had experienced almost everything that a pony was capable of and had come through it stronger and wiser.

But the sight she was confronted with now made her grateful that she'd not had any breakfast yet; still, her stomach was content to bunch itself up into knots, and a cold shiver ran up her spine as sweat formed on her brow. She took two steps into Luna's chambers with all the confidence of somepony wanting to take eighty steps in the opposite direction.

Truly, Celestia thought, the castle architects had done an exemplary job in matching Luna's new suite to the exact specifications – though they hadn't understood the necessity, as they'd never believed that she was coming back – of her old one in the Everfree Forest; right down to the wrought-iron fixtures and fittings around the overstorey, through which one could have an almost-panoramic view of Equestria in all of its glory, every detail was perfect.

Had been perfect, anyway.

The room looked as though it had just played to the world's most raucous party; Discord might've appreciated it, if the old meddler ever got out of his stone prison, but Celestia's purple eyes could only focus on one thing amidst all the debris and detritus. A tiny, fragile purple thing that could not have – yet somehow had – caused all of this chaos, delicate, feathery wings wrapped around herself like a protective sheath.

Luna had put those hoof-deep holes in the reinforced marble walls.

Luna had smashed all of those one-of-a-kind pots and vases.

Luna had torn those first-edition hardbacks apart, pages fluttering upending across the floor like lifeblood disgorging from a wound.

Amazingly, going by the cursory examination that she was able to perform from this angle, Celestia found that Luna herself appeared to be unharmed. No broken bones, no cuts, not even a feather out of place on her exquisite wings.

So intent was she on her snivelling little sister – so childlike, innocent and helpless, snot and tears sticking to her face as she wept with abandon – it took Celestia a moment to realise something that horrified her still further: upon leaning down to get a better look at Luna, some of the hoof-prints in the wall resolved themselves into something that looked almost like … words.

As a matter of fact, painstakingly, and no doubt painfully, etched into the alabaster designed to withstand an invading army was an entire sentence. It took Celestia a couple of minutes to fully wrap her head around it and, when she finally made sense of the words, she felt sick.

YOU ARE MINE, NOW AND FOREVER, ELATHA.

Celestia took a deep breath, trying to quiet the raging inferno boiling within her; in the whole span of Equestrian history, only five ponies had known that Celestia and Luna were merely titles afforded to the princesses. Epithets to describe what they did – mastery over the Sun and Moon respectively – rather than identify who they were.

Two of them were Celestia and Luna themselves.

Two of them had long since passed on to the next realm, may the Goddess grant their souls eternal peace.

And the last one was …

… the fifth.

Nightmare Moon.