18: Sunrise
The quiet in the Hall of Glass filled Aurora’s ears. It had been quiet for a long time now; the buzz of chatter that had filled the air had passed out the door, a little at a time, like air seeping out of a hot-air balloon. Gone, now, were the nobles and aristocrats peering through monocles and offering their formal congratulations. Gone were the press agents and photographers, pens and notepads hovering magically in the air in front of them, scribbling down notes while the cameras flashed. Gone were the foreign dignitaries and ambassadors, wishing her well in accents so think that Aurora could do little but smile pleasantly and say, “Thank you, likewise.” Now it was just Princess Aurora and the black-and-white marble tiles and the long red rug and the rainbow-colored moonlight that streamed in through the stained-glass windows – and, there, at the far end of the hall, the tall, gilded door behind which the Elements of Harmony rested and glowed together in the darkness of the vault.
The official coronation of the new princesses had been held in the palace earlier that day – now almost a day ago, in fact, for the night had passed swiftly in revelry and ceremony and diplomacy and, for Aurora, a few precious hours of sleep. Upon their return from Gloomhold a week before, the Council had held a conference to determine how the new princesses had fared on this most recent and unplanned “test” – and had decided unanimously that they had passed. Quickly, invitations had been sent out for their coronation, which would coincide with their shared eighteenth birthday. Even the rulers of Gloomhold had received invites, at the princesses’ insistence, despite the objections of some nobles who felt they were being too lenient and forgiving; but even their protests were silenced when Aurora suggested that the Equestrian government take advantage Queen Warwing’s visit by holding further negotiations that very evening.
The coronation had been splendid. Rulers and dignitaries had come from Gildedale and Ib’Xian and Gryphus and Zebrica and a hundred other kingdoms and nations to pay tribute to the new rules of Equestria. The loud, weighty voice of the announcer declaring “All hail Princess Aurora! All hail Princess Corona!” had rung in the princesses’ ears long afterwards, but not as long as the voices of their parents: Compass Point’s mirthful sobbing and endless, blubbering reiteration of how proud she was, and Tripod’s frustrated muttering about how he had forgotten his camera, and so on. Aurora could still feel their forelegs around her, feel the wetness of their teary eyes staining her neck. Eventually everypony – and every griffon, ibex, minotaur, zebra, and what-have-you – had moved into the Hall of Glass, where a reception with drinks, endless congratulations, and idle chatter awaited. But that was hours ago. Now there was just the quiet.
Now, Aurora stood before one of the windows. It was one of the last in the hall, a new addition just across from the one commemorating Celestia and Luna’s last stand. The new window depicted two winged unicorns, one white and one gold, glowing softly against a silvery-gray background of stormclouds that swirled above a mountain fortress. Around the two princesses, twin rainbows arced forth, weaving around each other in a dazzling, sparkling double-helix, pieced together in an intricate pattern of panes that shone brighter than all the rest of the glass combined.
She cast a glance behind her, at the window the glassworkers had installed a mere three months ago, depicting the former princesses. Then, turning her head in a slow arc, she looked at the tall, strong, gem-studded doorway that she had stepped out of three months ago, full of hope and full of fear, with her sister at her side. And as she turned back to look at the new window again, something caught in her throat. She had been staring at it for so long now that she had lost track of the minutes, something in her heart still could not quite accept that it was real. Accept that she and her sister were on a window in the Hall of Glass, that their figures and their legacy were fixed in elegant glasswork just across from Celestia and Luna’s. She wasn’t sure she understood it or even quite believed it, but there it was.
Tears started to come to her eyes, but they didn’t run. The room was too still, too cool and too quiet, too peaceful to disturb with tears. And the peace filled her heart just like the quiet filled her ears and the rainbow glow of moonlight filled her shining, dark blue eyes.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when, beside her, just to her right, somepony coughed.
“My apologies, your highness,” said Lord Stargazer, clearing his throat. “Just admiring the glasswork. The negotiations have just concluded for the night, and I thought I’d slip in and have a look. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You seemed quite fixated.”
“It’s perfectly all right.” Aurora cast her eyes aside, embarrassed, and blinked away the gathered tears. “It’s very beautiful.”
“Indeed,” he said, his voice as smooth and cool as the glass. “Beautiful, indeed. The magical glassmakers at the University certainly do some rather impressive work. I should know – after all, I did train several of them myself….”
Aurora turned on him with an exasperated gaze, but something in his eyes and in his smile told her that he didn’t take himself too seriously. It was that old, familiar smug grin that she loathed, but it was tweaked ever so slightly – the eyes half-lidded, the smile twisted a tenth of a degree – so that it became almost a parody of itself. Seeing this, Aurora offered him an awkward smile of her own.
The quiet returned, but now the peace had been disturbed. Something lingered in the air between the two ponies. Aurora cleared her throat, quiet and gentle and ladylike.
“Was there something you came to talk to me about?” she asked.
The grin faded from Stargazer’s face, and his eyes went downward. He coughed again, as though struggling to get the words out of his throat. “Forgive me, Princess Aurora,” he said at last in a low voice. He didn’t look up, and his tangled locks of golden mane obscured half his face. “In Gloomhold, I – I said many things that I should not have said, and I have yet to apologize for them.”
“No, it’s really all right,” Aurora said. “You weren’t completely yourself. I have to admit, there were things I wanted to say, things I would have said, if the Windigos hadn’t – ”
“It – ” Stargazer interjected, then stopped himself short, realizing suddenly that he was interrupting, out of habit, the pony who was now officially his ruling sovereign. He winced, but Aurora kept looking at him, her curious eyes prodding him on.
“It wasn’t merely the Windigos, your highness,” he continued. “What I said then was only the culmination of – of, well, of months of….” His sky-blue eyes wandered, searching the empty air for the right word as though he might find it floating in front of his face like a speck of dust. “…of difficulty accepting the decision the Elements of Harmony had made. The Windigos’ power only made it easier for me to get the words out, if you will.”
Stargazer chuckled bitterly at himself, and the grin returned to his mouth, but colder now, empty of mirth. He raised his head, eyes steady and humble, and gazed at the new window – at the glowing shapes of the princesses and the radiant, shimmering rainbows that surrounded them. “But – well – now, I suppose everypony can see for themselves how wrong I was.”
Aurora looked aside, absently swishing her tail, and bit her lip. “I understand,” she said, and her voice was very quiet, as though she were alone in the hall. “I – well, believe it or not, I actually had a lot trouble accepting it myself. That I was meant to be a princess, I mean. I’m still not sure I understand it at all. I still feel… I don’t know….”
Stargazer’s sudden, loud peals of laughter gave Aurora a jolt. He cut himself off when she shot a confused glare in his direction.
“My… my sincerest apologies, highness,” he said as his laughter faded. “But – well – you’ve unlocked the power of the Elements of Harmony, driven the Windigos out of Gloomhold, defeated a warlord, rescued dozens of prisoners, brought peace to an entire nation, and – well, and to top it all off, you saved my magnificent tail from freezing to death. All this after I called you worthless. And you still have doubts? Ha! If I were you, I’d never let me hear the end of it. Actually, I’d clap me in irons and hurl me in the dungeon at the very least.” He heaved a sigh, and the smile on his face vanished as the last of the laughter died in his voice. “Well. Perhaps that’s precisely why you’re the princess, and I’m just your instructor.”
Stargazer raised his eyes to the window again, and Aurora studied his features closely. It seemed to her that a mask had been pulled away from the proud unicorn’s face, revealing the tender, wiser features underneath. “Just your instructor,” he mumbled under his breath. Then the old mask of stern decorum settled over him again, but now it seemed to fit his face more comfortably than before. He turned to her and bowed deeply. “In any case, it’s proper that I offer my apologies, and beg forgiveness of the crown.”
“Well, then,” Aurora said, standing upright and deepening her voice. “Lord Stargazer, you are hereby officially forgiven.”
He inclined his head in a grateful bow. “Much obliged, your highness.” He turned to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got papers to grade. Our little adventure has left me a good two weeks behind in my duties at the University.”
“All right,” Aurora said. “And – and thank you, Lord Stargazer. Good night – or, good morning, I guess. It is pretty late now.”
“Very well.” The unicorn chuckled lightly, stopping and casting a smiling glance back over his shoulder. “Good morning, my princess.”
And when he said my princess, Aurora felt the weight in his words. For the first time she could remember, her magic instructor had given her respect. And meant it.
And as Stargazer took his leave, Aurora stood there, eyes half-focused as she let the moment sink into her. Outside the windows, a cloud passed in front of the moon, dimming the multicolored light that streamed into the hall for only a second, the space of a breath. Then the light returned, falling on her brighter than before, and the princess raised her head as though a great weight had just lifted itself from her heart.
Then – morning! Aurora suddenly remembered herself, as though snapping out of a dream. The negotiations had lasted nearly all night, and now it was almost time for the sunrise. Corona would be back in her room now, probably resting; the celebration in Ponyville had lasted longer into the night than anyone had anticipated, and surely she would be tired.
Drawing a cool breath, then releasing it, the Princess of the Night made for the door and left the marble floor, the red carpet, the exquisite glasswork, the rainbow-colored moonlight, and the precious, peaceful quiet of the Hall of Glass behind her.
Aurora’s silver-shod hooves clacked softly on the marble floor and echoed along the dim corridors as they carried her back towards the tower where she and her sister slept. She felt small beneath the high, arched ceiling of the hallway, but it was not the helpless and feeble kind of small; she felt more like a foal coming home, and the cavernous spaces of the Canterlot Palace seemed welcoming and familiar. The soft red-orange light of the lamps that burned and flickered along the walls gave the scene the appearance of a cozy living room basking in the glow of a fireplace. But something – Aurora couldn’t quite name what – felt just a tad off, as though a draught of cold air were drifting in through a window somepony had carelessly left open. And then there was the tugging feeling at the back of her mind that told her these were only temporary lodgings, and maybe she really belonged out there in the cold – but she shook her head, and her wavy, starry mane flashed in front of her eyes, and the feeling subsided.
Her train of thought came to an abrupt stop when another set of voices drifted into her ear. Somewhere nearby – there, just up ahead, around the corner, someone was speaking.
“…rightful queen of Gloomhold, Majesty. Of course we’ll still follow you.”
Aurora froze, then drew close against the wall. The gruff, even voice sounded familiar; Aurora recognized it as one of the pegasi under Frostbane’s command. Yes, that’s right, she remembered – she was near the conference room now; the door was just around the corner up ahead. Stargazer had mentioned that they had just concluded negotiations for the night, and now Gloomhold’s delegation must be making their way back to the suite of rooms Aurora had offered them for their stay in Canterlot.
Slowly, lowering each hoof as gently as she could on the marble floor, and half-chastising herself as she did so, the princess crept forward and listened.
“…doesn’t seem likely to change any time soon. But we’re working on it, and I’m sure the bird – Kyrie, I mean – won’t refuse to help, especially now that that Stargazer pony used his magic to find her children for us.”
“No,” said another voice. It was a hard, cold voice, but not without a certain sort of tenderness. Aurora recognized it as belonging to Frostbane. “We won’t use her magic on anyone. That’s what Blacktalon did, and I don’t think any of us want more of that.” She heaved a tired sigh of mixed resignation and contentment. “But I do agree,” Frostbane went on, “with the Windigos gone and a new queen on the throne, now seems like as good a time as ever for some changes. Gloomhold needs to change – truly this time, and for the better. Thank you, Tempest. You’ve… you’ve been nothing but helpful, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“No, General. Thank you. It’s just good to know you’re alive and all right. We all thought we’d lost you back there.”
Hooves clacked down the marble floor, fading into gentle, noiseless nothing. Aurora could picture the black-coated pegasus shrinking into the distance as he made his way down the shadowy hall.
For a moment, that seemed to be the end of it. Aurora, deciding that it would be better to move on and not intrude on their privacy any further, started forward – just as two figures stepped around the corner into her path.
It was Frostbane – and, at her side, a very familiar hippogriff. For an instant, Aurora’s breath stopped.
Quila caught sight of Aurora, and her eyes darted away. The young queen of Gloomhold hadn’t spoken a word to the Equestrian princess from the moment their negotiations began that afternoon, after the coronation, all the way till nightfall, when Aurora had excused herself to raise the moon and bid her coronation guests farewell and (briefly) get some rest. In fact, she hadn’t so much as looked Aurora in the face since their battle in Gloomhold a week ago, and in all the time since then she had averted her eyes whenever their gazes began to drift towards each other. But Frostbane looked Aurora in the face, and her own rose-colored eyes shone bright in the lamplight.
“Princess Aurora,” she said evenly, inclining her head in a respectful bow. At her side, Quila’s head dipped in time with her mother’s, but she still didn’t look up.
“General Frostbane,” Aurora answered, uncertainty revealing itself in her voice. “And Queen Warwing. Are the negotiations finished?”
“For tonight, yes,” said Frostbane, her voice all business. After a beat she nodded and, just for something to do, awkwardly swished her tail.
The uncomfortable quiet that descended was suffocating. For a frantic second, Aurora scrabbled through her mind in search of something to say, but then Frostbane cracked the silence with a tentative, almost stuttering voice.
“I’m glad I caught you, your highness. Up to now our only opportunity to speak was during the negotiations, so I did not get a chance to – ” She stopped herself, and her eyes moved to one side, occupied, as though the mind behind them were choosing its words carefully. “…a chance to thank you,” she said at last. “Personally.”
“Thank me?”
“Yes,” said Frostbane, and already there was more life in her voice. The primary obstacle, it seemed, had been surmounted; now the words flowed more freely. “I was – trapped. And I don’t just mean the ice. I had been trapped for years. If you hadn’t arrived in Gloomhold – if you hadn’t driven those… those demons out of our kingdom, out of us… nothing would ever have changed.”
“I see,” said Aurora, “but you really shouldn’t be thanking me, General. It was really the Elements of Harmony that did all the work.”
Something passed over Frostbane’s face like a shadow; her eyes suddenly seemed to gaze back years into the past. “Elements of Harmony,” she repeated. “I haven’t heard anypony speak of them to me in years. Not since my troop left Equestria for the last time.” Now something like a smile shone in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth curled gently upwards. “What were they again? Loyalty, Generosity….”
“Kindness, Honesty….” Aurora said, smiling with her.
“…Laughter, and – Magic, was it?” Frostbane finished, and nodded to herself. Her vacant eyes kept staring at empty space, at something only she could see, as though her whole picture of the world were repainting itself in front of her eyes. “If they ever came to my mind, I’m sure I couldn’t hear them over the sound of those things whispering in my ear. I needed to be reminded of them.”
Then the warmly glowing smile disappeared from Frostbane’s lips, but her eyes kept shining as though some inner light had been kindled behind them.
“In any case,” she said, her voice all business again, “Thank you for your time, your highness. And congratulations on your coronation. I only regret that that we had to meet as we did, and I hope that – that what came before will not hinder our future relations.” Though the pegasus dealt out her words with businesslike precision and care, a certain softness in her voice made it clear to Aurora that she wasn’t just talking about truces and trade agreements. “Well. It has been a long night, for all of us. If you’ll pardon us, your highness – ”
“Actually – I – ”
Aurora and Frostbane froze. The voice was Quila’s. Embarrassed, the hippogriff’s head lowered and her feathered cheeks flushed with shame. But her mother and the princess turned and eyed her with curiosity and surprise; to judge by the look of quiet shock on Frostbane’s face, Aurora guessed that this was the first time the queen of Gloomhold had spoken at all in some time. Quickly their startled expressions softened into gentle, expectant, questioning looks, and both were afraid to say anything for fear of frightening Quila back into silence, the way one tires to avoid scaring away a small animal.
Aurora leaned down and lowered her gaze to Quila’s level. For a moment she recalled the face she had seen in Gloomhold – the face of a callous tyrant who burned her own villages – but she drew in a quiet breath, let it out, and forced the image out of her mind. “Yes, Your Majesty?” she managed at last.
The feathered head rose slowly, timorously, and at last Quila’s eyes met Aurora’s. They were soft and bright, a slightly darker shade of rose than her mother’s eyes, and they glistened in the lamplight as the young queen struggled silently to hold back tears. “Th-thank you,” she managed to stammer out. “I mean, I wanted to thank you, too. And I’m sorry. I d-don’t know what I was trying to prove. But I’m… I’m glad you came along. Everything’s better now. Everything’s different.”
Aurora tried to respond, but her mind was empty and words wouldn’t come. The sincerity in Quila’s soft, youthful, trembling voice nearly knocked her off her hooves – it was nothing like the false, careful tones she had used during their first meeting in Gloomhold, and even less like the snarling, hateful shrieks of the Windigos. And now her face looked so terribly young, like the face of a timid foal peeking out from under the covers; the monstrous visage the princesses had battled a week ago had been washed away by the power of the Elements, and years of resentment and wasted love had vanished along with it. And now her timid foal’s eyes were looking right at Aurora and overflowing with guilt and remorse and gratitude….
It was all Aurora could do to offer a shy smile in return. And, judging by the light that flickered in Quila’s eyes and the way her beak twitched slightly, weakly, into the beginnings of a warm-hearted smile, it was enough.
Frostbane seemed to acknowledge that nothing more needed to be said. She shared a glance with her daughter, took leave of Princess Aurora with a simple bow of her head, and moved on past her down the hall. Quila’s talons clicked across the marble alongside her.
As they walked away down the corridor, their voices, soft but clear, heavy with the weight of painful, wasted years, tense with lingering mistrust and unfamiliarity, yet bright with newborn hope, drifted back to Aurora’s ears.
“I’m sorry too, Quila. And I do love you. I love you so much, and I’m so very, very sorry it took me so long to realize….”
“It’s… it’s all right, Mom. That’s all I needed to hear. I’m sorry, too.”
Aurora shook her head, surprised to find that tears had gathered in her own eyes again. Hearing their voices, hearing those words, realizing the door that had opened between the two of them – an overwhelming peace broke over the princess in waves. It struggled briefly against that stubborn, lingering discomfort, that sense of unbelonging and undeserving that had lodged itself in her chest, and a fragment of the old unease survived and retreated into a far, dimly lit corner in the back of Aurora’s mind, brooding. But she paid it no attention.
Raising her chin and ruffling her wings once, she took a step ahead –
“Ahem.”
– and for the third time that night, Aurora nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh! Glass Eye!” The princess quickly recovered herself, reaching up a foreleg to brush away a few strands of starry mane that had drifted in front of her eyes. “And Professor Somnambula. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there….”
“Good to see you, your highness,” said Glass Eye, bowing his head. The old unicorn and his granddaughter had appeared around the corner just as Aurora was about to take a step; both wore their Arcane University scarves, his red and hers green, and both looked more than a little tired. Glass Eye’s tone of voice was even and measured, but the glad crinkles around his eyes suggested that the mouth hidden behind the bushy moustache was smiling. “Our apologies for startling you. I know the sunrise is near, so we won’t take up much of your time. But, with the negotiations concluded for the night, we were all making our way out of the conference room….”
“Right, of course,” said Aurora, greeting them each in turn with a nod. Seeing the princess, Somnambula’s light pink eyes brightened in a flash, then darted quickly down in embarrassment; despite all of Corona’s encouraging words, despite having forgiven herself already, she still seemed a tad uncomfortable around the princesses she had kidnapped and fought less than two weeks earlier. Noticing this, Aurora turned a soft, sympathetic gaze on the professor, as though trying to channel some of her own inner peace through her eyes to the distraught unicorn. It seemed to do the trick; Somnambula looked back up over the pair of glasses perched on her snout and greeted Aurora with a gentle, smiling bow of her head, at ease once again.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for so much of the meeting,” Aurora said. “I take it things went well?”
“The meeting went very well indeed,” Glass Eye said with a nod. “The testimonies of Lord Stargazer, Sir Posh, and Marble Lotus managed to convince the Council to pardon most of Gloomhold’s hostilities – all the blame has fallen upon the Windigos and the now-deceased King Blacktalon. We even managed to revive discussion of the diamond trade, which, if you recall, was the initial cause for our diplomatic visit before all of this business began.” Then he looked over Aurora’s shoulder, down the hall where Frostbane and Quila had just disappeared. “But, in a way, it is even better to know that things are well with our new allies. The Elements of Harmony truly do work wonders.”
“You can say that again!” Somnambula burst in, now fully herself, excitement welling up and overcoming her embarrassment. “The Elements haven’t released that much magic since the Harbinger event – it’s astonishing! We had no idea that a prismic spell could affect an entire country, and the fact that the Elements cast it through a transpositional projection – oh, the new avenues of research you’ve opened up, your highness, I can hardly begin to describe….”
She started to trail off, blushing to realize that she was rambling yet again. But Glass Eye beamed, smiling the wise and infinitely joyful smile of an old and weary-hearted pony whose granddaughter, long lost, had been suddenly returned to him.
“As a matter of fact, your highness,” he said, “it’s in regards to your victory in Gloomhold that I wanted to speak with you – and why I had been hoping for an opportunity to thank you. You restored my granddaughter to me. Her sisters will be delighted to see her again, the real her, once all this business is resolved fully and she can return home.”
“Everypony’s thanking me tonight,” said Aurora. She gave an uncertain little half-smile, eyes cast downward, and she sat down as though a great weight had settled upon her. “Thanking me, or apologizing. And I just don’t know what to say to it all, or what to feel. I’m just – I don’t know – overwhelmed, I guess. I know I really shouldn’t be that way, but….”
Glass Eye stepped forward, resting a comforting hoof on Aurora’s shoulder. “You are a princess, your highness,” he said, “but you are also a young mare who has just assumed more responsibility than any other pony in this wide world – and you have received a gift that scarcely anypony can truly be said to deserve. Perhaps ‘overwhelmed’ is simply how anyone would feel in your position.”
Aurora looked up into his eyes: one bright and gold, the other faintly blurry behind the thick, gray glass of his monocle, and both of them brimming with a mixture of sympathy and admiration. Over his shoulder, Somnambula stood smiling, waiting, with the very same look on her face – along with the unmistakable quiet peace and warmth that lives in the eyes of a pony who has been forgiven and welcomed home.
“If you find everypony thanking you and begging for your forgiveness overwhelming,” said Glass Eye, “then, perhaps, just try and remember that you yourself have much to be thankful for – so many gifts received, so many weaknesses forgiven, and no more than any of us. Does that make your situation any easier to bear?”
Aurora tilted her head in thought, then nodded. “I think so.” Then she smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, it does.”
Rising again, the princess stood still for a moment, tall and regal and composed – and then she fell forward again, crashing down on Glass Eye like a wave, wrapping her forelegs around her advisor’s neck in a misty-eyed embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so, so much. For everything.”
“Your highness,” he answered, leaning into the hug, “you are most welcome.”
On that note, the princess and the unicorns began to part ways – only for the professor to freeze mid-step and swing around before Aurora had made it two paces down the hall.
“Oh!” she said suddenly, “I almost forgot! Your highness, don’t forget to tell your sister – I’m sorry, to tell Princess Corona, I mean – about the Council’s decision concerning Ghost!”
“Right! Of course,” Aurora said, casting a last, grateful look back over her shoulder. One of her first acts upon returning from Gloomhold had been to reveal Ghost’s presence to the Council as a way to make up for her earlier dishonesty; the matter had been temporarily put on hold, given the plethora of more pressing issues at hoof at the time. “I haven’t forgotten. And… and thank you,” she added. “You have no idea how much this means to her.”
“Always delighted to be of service, your highness!” said Somnambula. Then she turned back and, with a few quick, light steps, caught up to her grandfather and trotted along at his side, taking advantage of his willing ears to continue rambling about the University’s new research prospects. As the sound of her voice started to face, Aurora stood, watching their figures recede into the distance of the long corridor, before turning at last, her heart full and her eyes still shining, to make her way towards the tower.
She climbed the long, spiraling staircase, passed by the flickering torchlight that danced along the stone walls, and arrived at the top, at a familiar pair of tall, white doors. Turning to the door on the right, she raised a hoof and tapped once, twice, three times on the thick white wood, just to signal her presence, before pushing the door open herself.
A great yellow mass filled her field of vision the instant she set foot inside.
“Aurora!” The voice belonged to the pony whose forelegs were wrapped around her neck in the tightest hug imaginable. “You’re back! How’d everything go? Did you get to talk to the visitors from Prance and Neighpon? How’s Professor Somnambula? Did they say anything about Ghost?”
“Hey, hey!” Aurora laughed. “Let me breathe, okay? I’m happy to see you too….”
Corona finally released her sister and stepped back to look her in the eye. Her own eyes were a tad bloodshot from getting home late, but the joy that shone in her expression gave her face a glow of boundless energy. Her sky-colored mane sparkled and floated untroubled in an invisible wind, and despite her fatigue, she carried herself with pride; even without her regalia on, she looked like a princess one would see framed by gold in a historical portrait hanging on the wall of a fine art gallery. Aurora could hardly look at her now without being knocked off her hooves.
“Everything went fine – at least the parts I was present for,” Aurora said as she stepped inside onto the lush burgundy carpet. This was the first time she had seen her sister since they had parted after the coronation the previous day; both princesses had been invited to appear at the celebration in Ponyville, but Aurora’s presence was required at the negotiations with Gloomhold, and somepony had to stick around to answer press questions and bid all the coronation guests farewell. It seemed to work out for the best: Aurora was none too fond of parties in any case, while Corona’s eyes brightened at every opportunity to celebrate.
Before Corona could say anything, a sound from within the room caught both their ears. On Corona’s bed, a small creature raised her insectoid head and yawned, smacking her lips and shaking her head once or twice. Then the big green eyes fluttered open, and their gaze settled on the princesses.
“Friends!” croaked Ghost, cracking a crooked but heartfelt smile. “Am – are home!”
Aurora turned to Corona. “The Council’s made a decision about Ghost,” she said.
“They have? What did they say?”
“They say she ought to be kept around, ostensibly for research purposes. That was what Professor Somnambula suggested. And since they’ve never had an opportunity to observe a benign changeling interacting with ponies in a casual setting, well….” Aurora couldn’t stop a sly grin from sliding onto her face. “They think she ought to live here, in the palace… with us.”
Aurora hadn’t thought her sister’s smile could get any brighter, but in that moment Corona proved her wrong. Hearing the good news, Ghost perked up as well; her crooked grin changed into a beaming smile, and her insect wings fluttered excitedly.
“Again, that was all Professor Somnambula’s idea,” Aurora explained quickly. “She’ll be coming around twice a week to check on Ghost and observe, but she’s mostly going to let us look after her – well, us and the palace staff, obviously, once they’ve been briefed on how to care for isolated changelings.”
Corona’s gaze shot excitedly between her sister and her new friend; then a faint shadow crept into her smile, and she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Aurora. “Can… do you think we teach her how to reciprocate love? I mean, I remember Professor Somnambula was worried about that….”
A thoughtful look entered Aurora’s eyes. A night from a week ago was passing before them – the image of Ghost marching steadily along the path through the Everfree Forest, showing the princess, Tally Mark, and Glass Eye where Corona had been taken. “Well, given the way she’s helped us so far,” she said, “I think she’s already learning.”
She turned towards Corona’s bed to address the little changeling, who by now was sitting upright and staring at her with hesitant, expectant green eyes. “You can live here for as long as you like,” she announced. “And,” she added, just an ounce of reluctance creeping into her voice, “you can sleep in my room – for now, at least, until we find a more suitable place.”
Corona turned to her, her head tilted in confusion. “What? Why’s that?”
“I got Holly Sprig to bring up a cat bed. I know Ghost likes sleeping in those – if nothing else, it’s better than the cage they’ve been keeping her in at the University, no matter how comfortable Somnambula has worked to make it. It’s in my room now,” she said to Ghost, “if you’d rather go and continue napping in there. In fact, that’d probably be for the best – Princess Corona needs to get some undisturbed sleep.”
She turned back towards the doorway, her horn glowing with pale blue moonlight, and the door swung open, swiftly but with careful control. Across the short hallway, the white door of Aurora’s own bedchamber was enveloped by a crackling blue-white glow, and it creaked open as well.
Thankful and excited, Ghost hopped down from Corona’s bed and trotted towards the door – but not before stopping to lovingly nuzzle Aurora’s leg. And in that moment, something passed between them like a static shock; Aurora could feel a surge of warmth in her heart, rising and swelling perfectly in time with the sudden purplish glow that surrounded Ghost’s tiny horn. Then the little changeling fixed her eyes on the hallway and trotted out, her feet making tiny clicks on the marble floor as she made her way to the other bedroom. Aurora shut the doors again after her.
Corona eyed her sister; the faint shadow of doubt was still on her face. “Are you sure this is all right, sis?” she asked. “I know you were really worried about Ghost being in the palace before….”
Aurora’s brow furrowed in thought. “Well, does keeping Ghost around seem like the right thing to do?”
“Well, it’s definitely kind and generous,” said Corona. “And loyal, too, in a way.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about, come what may,” said Aurora. “Even if some ponies don’t approve, I’d rather act according to the Elements than bother with what anypony else says. A few critical looks from stuck-up nobles aren’t half as important as that.” She took a few steps and climbed onto the bed, throwing herself across the sun-emblazoned quilt as Corona climbed up and settled beside her. “So. How did the party go?”
“It went great!” said Corona. “Everypony was there! They had a big platform set up in the town square – and it’s a really big square, too – and they strung lines between all the buildings and lampposts and hung lanterns on them, like they used to do at Nightmare Night celebrations back home. Remember that? Well, it was just as awesome as that! Well, wait, I remember you didn’t really like Nightmare Night back then. But it was really pretty and I wish you’d seen it! And there were balloons, too, balloons everywhere! And then right at the begin they let one really big balloon loose for every missing foal who made it back home – and that was all eleven of them! It was amazing….”
“It sounds like it,” said Aurora. She laughed. “I’m almost kind of sorry I missed it. Was there anything else?”
“Oh, yeah! Then they had a big recognition thing for all of the sick ponies who had recovered. Not all of them could be there, ‘cause I guess some of them hadn’t gotten all their strength back yet, but a bunch of them were there! And one of them even made a speech – it was Lantern Jaw’s father, too! And before he went up on the platform, Lantern Jaw and his little brother – Crimson something – they went up and hugged him, and he smiled, and it was the sweetest thing! I gotta admit, I almost cried. I think everypony did. And then he got up to make this speech, and he got a round of applause just for standing up… Didja know he used to be a brigadier? Anyway, he made a speech – I wish I could remember the whole thing – something about how everything works out in the end. And… and then…”
Something choked and trembling came into Corona’s voice, and her lower lip seemed to quiver. “Then he pointed to me,” she said, “and – and he said how, if it weren’t for the princesses, he’d never have seen either of his sons again – and I… I just….” She turned her shining eyes and shaky smile to Aurora. “You wouldn’t think any less of me if I told you I actually cried a little then, would you?”
Before Aurora could answer, Corona was chattering cheerily again. “Anyway, after that there was music – a local band, and their singer had a really high-pitched voice for a stallion, but the horn section was amazing. They went on for hours, and everypony danced. And those three foals were there – remember, the ones from Gloomhold? Salt Taffy, Timberjack, and Crackers? The three of them wanted me to dance with them, but Salt Taffy kept crashing into the other two and Crackers fussed about it while Timberjack just laughed. And Tally Mark and Lantern Jaw danced together, too. Actually, I think there was something going on between those two. They were dancing really close. Apparently they’ve known each other for years, from back when Lantern Jaw lived in Ponyville, so….”
Again, Aurora’s laughter interrupted the story. “So that’s why he requested to stay in Ponyville!”
“Oh, yeah. I think they’re really cute together.” Corona’s laughter rang out loudly and joined her sister’s. “Then even Pink Pearl joined in, though she couldn’t dance all that well because her leg still hasn’t healed completely yet. Tally Mark helped support her on one side, and she managed a couple of steps before she made this really painful face and went, ‘Aw, horsefeathers! Sorry, everypony!’ and gave up. But they all cheered for her, and it was really sweet.”
“Wow. Those Ponyville ponies sound like a friendly bunch.”
“Well, I think they were also cheering for her because she brought so much apple cider. Oh, that reminds me! The food was awesome, too! I tried to stay away from all the sweets, ‘cause you know how they always make my stomach hurt – but then I got this weird craving for cake. And the cake was amazing, too!” Corona rolled over and sat up straight, her joyful eyes drifting towards the window. “Everything was amazing. And now Tally Mark is thinking about making it a local tradition. If they do, let’s go back there every year!”
“If they do, I’ll make sure to be there,” said Aurora. For a few moments she simply eyed her sister as she stared out the window, past the half-drawn curtains into the night. “So how did it feel getting the spotlight?” she asked.
Corona’s brow creased, and she bit her lip in thought. “Even though I was there by myself,” she began, “I felt – it felt real, you know? Like I could believe it was really happening. I thought I’d be nervous, but I wasn’t.”
“Nervous? You’re never nervous around ponies.”
“Well, y’know – being a princess and all, I was afraid that would change things. But it didn’t, not really. I got to dance and eat and talk with everypony just like normal, like when I was just Summer Sun. But I never stopped feeling like Corona, either – and even though I was by myself, I felt like I could take care of things, even with all the speeches and the attention the – what’s that word you always use? – decorum. It’s like… like being Corona didn’t mean that I’m not myself anymore. I’m still myself, but I’m more than I used to be. Like I’m… whole, I guess?” She turned her tilted head to Aurora, a question in her eyes. “Does that make any sense?”
For a moment, Aurora couldn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on Corona’s curious face, but her vision blurred and wandered back into the past. She saw a tiny, frightened foal shivering among the tall, windswept stalks of yellow grass, snuggling up to her side. She saw the tears squeezing themselves out of Summer’s tightly-shut eyes as she held the stunned robin close to her chest while Blue’s own foreleg wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. And she saw herself, cowering against a brick wall on that Nightmare Night so many years ago, and Summer standing over her, asking if she were all right. That had always been the way between them, supporting each other just like Tally Mark had supported Pink Pearl at the dance. Inseparable sisters. Two halves of one whole.
But the pony before Aurora’s eyes now wasn’t half a princess. She was a leader, an encourager, a light in the dark for three frightened foals when they were trapped far from home. She was a hope-bearer and redeemer for a despairing professor of magic who was crippled by guilt and remorse. She was a hero and a savior for a lost little changeling, a liberator for entire kingdom of griffons and pegasi, and an inspiration for her sister. She was all of these things on her own, without Aurora’s help – and only by the power of the Elements of Harmony. They were truly separate ponies now, with the Elements guiding and empowering them each individually. And yet….
And yet here they both were, still together, closer now than they had ever been. They had grown up, they had faced hardship and separation and danger, and they had survived, and they were still together. They were still sisters.
Something surged in Aurora’s chest and leapt into her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was laughing.
“Summer… Corona….” she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “I understand. I understand everything. You’re so different now, we’re both so different, but – but you’re still you. You are my sunshine, and you’ve taken better care of me than I ever did of you.” She sat up straight, then fell towards her sister, her movements as quick and smooth as though they were dictated by gravity, and enveloped her in a mutual embrace. “But you are so much more than that,” she whispered. “You’re a princess. You’re a hero. You’re my hero. And you’re going to be the best princess Equestria has ever had – kind, loyal, funny, honest, generous, magical, everything – because the Elements are with you, I know it. I believe it.”
Corona’s forelegs gave Aurora’s neck a tight, loving squeeze. Aurora squeezed her back and just let the tears flow. “The best gift the Elements of Harmony gave me wasn’t my wings or my magic,” she said. “It was getting to have you for a sister. It’s getting to stay with you forever.”
Corona sniffled. “Stop it, sis,” she said, but there was a smile in her voice. “You’re making me cry.”
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said. She broke the hug, gently, and drew back, wiping her eyes with a hoof. “That kind of came out of nowhere….”
“It’s okay,” Corona said, giving a final sniffle as she wiped her own eyes dry. “I really needed to hear it.”
A few seconds passed in silence, a silence warmer and more beautiful even than the peaceful quiet in the Hall of Glass. Then Aurora turned her head to the window. “C’mon,” she said, moving to stand up. “You’ve got a sun to raise. And then you need to get some sleep.”
“Right.” Corona rose from the bed to follow her. “Then what’re you gonna do?”
“Paperwork, mostly,” Aurora said as she drew back the curtains with magic. “They need my official approval on some of the treaty agreements made during the night’s negotiations. But first – I think I’m going to go for a fly.”
“That sounds great!” Corona’s own horn glowed a sparkling gold as she slid open the tall glass door to the balcony. “So I guess the flight lessons have been going better lately, huh?”
“They have,” said Aurora. “Much better. Mostly because I’m not as afraid as I used to be.”
Now they stood on Corona’s balcony. The predawn air was cool and still, with only the gentlest hint of a breeze drifting in occasionally and caressing their faces. From the high tower, they could see all of Equestria unfolding before them, all the familiar sights: distant snow-capped peaks glowing white under the moon, winding rivers full of sparkling starlight, forests and little villages, railroads and grasslands, and, somewhere, a small town whose sick ones had been healed and whose lost foals had been found. All the landscape seemed dim and muted, as though it lay under a blanket of darkness. Then Aurora looked up: a few pale stars glowed against the velvet canvas of the sky, and the moon she had raised earlier that night still hung heavily over the scene, waiting to be laid to rest.
She turned again to her sister. “I’m here if you need any help.”
Corona drew in a calm breath, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Thanks, but… I’m pretty sure I’ve got all the help I need.”
The sparkling golden glow returned to Corona’s horn, burning now like a torch, so bright it nearly hurt Aurora’s eyes. Then, along the edge of the horizon, a new reddish-orange glow ignited beyond the distant mountain peaks to the east. The glow reached upwards into the velvety-blue of the sky, spreading like long, feathery fingers of rose-colored light. Corona winced, just a slight twitching of her facial muscles, but then she drew in another breath, calm and steady, and when she let it go, a single ray of gold peeked over the mountains. Then another, then another – then at last, as though it were a balloon suddenly set free from its moorings, the radiant golden disc of the sun lifted itself above the distant horizon. Light spilled across the land, light and brilliant color: suddenly the thick forests shone dazzling green, the blue rivers sparkled in the sunlight, the waving wheat-fields glinted with a brownish-gold of their own.
And, somewhere deep inside Aurora’s mind, an uncomfortable draught of cool air was driven out, and the shadows of doubt that sat brooding in the dim corners of her heart were banished forever by the light of the newborn day.
At length, Corona opened her ruby-colored eyes. The first rays of the rising sun shone through her wavy, floating mane, painting it in glittering tones of gold, rose, and fire-orange. She wasn’t little Summer Sun anymore, Aurora thought. She was truly Princess Corona, Sovereign of the Sun, Bringer of Dawn, Ruler of the Day. In that moment, basking in the glow of her first sunrise, she was everything a princess should be.
A single tear blurred Aurora’s vision. She wiped it away – she’d already shed enough tears for one morning – but she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
“Wow,” she said. “You really can do this by yourself, can’t you? Guess you don’t need me anymore….”
Corona yawned. “What… what’re you talking about, sis?” she said, and suddenly she stumbled backwards a step, nearly landing on her haunches. “Whoa. Feelin’ kinda woozy….”
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Aurora quickly rushed to Corona’s side to give her another body to lean on. “I guess raising the sun still takes a lot out of you.”
“Well, I was – ” Corona began, but her words were broken by another loud yawn. “…I was pretty tired to… to begin with.” Even as she tried to speak, her eyelids were already falling shut. “Just… gotta… get to bed now, I guess….”
“Of course,” said Aurora. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Carefully, gently, Aurora led her sleepy sister back inside. With a bit of magic, she pulled back the covers and gave Corona room to climb in and lay her weary head to rest on the huge, white pillows. As Aurora drew the sun-emblazoned quilt up to her neck, Corona began mumbling.
“’Course I need you, sis,” she repeated, already half-asleep. “Of course I do. I love you… you’re… you’re….”
But she didn’t need to finish. Everything Aurora needed to hear, everything in the world, was there in the words Corona meant but didn’t say. And it was enough.
“I know,” said Aurora, her warm voice just above a whisper. “I love you, too.”
Corona’s ears flicked once, and she turned slightly to get more comfortable. Just as she was drifting off, a question, fully formed as though made ready in advance, slipped past her lips on a gentle breath. “D’you think Celestia ‘n Luna would be proud of us?”
“I know they would be,” Aurora answered. “I know they are.”
Slowly, gently, the princess of the night leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead. “Good night, Princess Corona.”
Corona smiled. “G’night, Princess Aurora.”
Princess Aurora.
For the first time in Aurora’s life, that sounded like her name.
Leaving her sister to sleep, Aurora crossed the carpet with quiet hoofsteps and walked back out onto the balcony. Silently, she slid the glass door shut behind her and drew back the curtains with a little touch of magic. Then she turned and moved to the edge of the balcony and sat down, leaning her head over the golden railing to look out across her kingdom.
A wind came and tousled Aurora’s mane, and for a few seconds, the white stars that glowed against the deep black locks flashed in front of her eyes, only to vanish an instant later when her view of Equestria was again unobscured. Her brow creased as she recalled the day, now only a little over a week ago, when she had flown to Ponyville in the sky chariot. At the time, she had felt that the veil separating her from her kingdom was gone; from her vantage point in the sky, with no walls or windows in her way, the rivers and railroads and villages had seemed to her more undeniably real. Now, letting her gaze drift along the course of the Neighagra River, flowing past little towns and under railway bridges and through thick green woodlands, she felt that way again. It was all real, and it was her responsibility, every last tree and house and little babbling brook.
Could little Blue Moon really take care of all this?
The wind blew stronger, ruffling the white feathers of the princess’s still-folded wings. Aurora stood up again. Now, she felt real, too, every bit as real as the earth and the trees and the rivers and the towns. As real as the sun her princess-sister had just raised, as real as the warmth she could feel now on her face. As real as the six stones that glowed together in the darkness of the vault in the Hall of Glass, whose power she could feel glowing warm and pulsing strong and steady in her heart, deep down in the dark at the core of her being, flowing through every vein and giving her strength when she was weak, courage when she was frightened, and wisdom when she was in the dark.
Drawing in a deep breath, she spread her wings, smiled, and leapt over the railing.
The wind howled and whistled past Aurora’s ears and ran its cold fingers through her mane, but already she could feel it filling up the space beneath her outstretched wings, supporting and lifting her. She beat her wings once, twice, rising into the sky a little with each wingbeat, and a tingling, weightless sensation crept into her stomach. Then she narrowed her eyes, recalling all at once every word, every carefully-practiced movement of her training. Soon she was titling and leaning this way and that, beating her wings again and again to rise into an ascending spiral, circling the high, gilded white tower of the Canterlot Palace, rustling the curtains of Corona’s bedroom window, chasing the wind, rising, falling, breathing in the morning air and laughing like a foal.
And as she flew, her thoughts drifted even further into the past, to a blustery day when she had run out to find her sister cowering alone in the high grass after Princess Celestia’s first visit to their house. She could still hear the chilling wind that had swept low across the field, the way its haunting voice had whispered in their ears as they huddled together in fear beneath the waving yellow stalks. But now the air rang with laughter, her own joyous, giddy, childlike laughter, and the wind in her ears was like a voice saying, “I’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of you, there’s nothing to fear.”
Nothing to fear, not as long as she believed.
And Aurora believed.
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5426906 Thank you for your comment. I should point out that I never claim the sisters died of old age. A flashback in a later chapter will explain how their deaths came about. My apologies if the description or opening chapter misled you.
That was a good strong ending. Emotional without being too melodramatic.
Nitpicks:
never let me hear the end of it
prismic?
5429217 Many thanks! I'm glad to know the ending didn't come across as sappy or melodramatic. And thank you kindly for reading and commenting!
And thank your for the nitpicks,since I'm a sloppy editor and I really do appreciate having these things pointed out. Now, Prismic is just supposed to sound like made-up magical techno-jargon, but if it's getting confused glances I may replace it with something else.
5431065 I'm glad I could help. However, you misunderstood the second nitpick: you had misspelled "prismic" as "prsimic" and the question mark was because I wasn't 100% sure "prismic" was indeed what you intended to write. I guess I could have been more clear, since if you missed the misspelling the first time there was good reason for me to predict you might miss it the second time, resulting in the misunderstanding that in fact occurred.
(I actually thought that it was a clever piece of jargon, assuming it was what it was.)
5431164 Ah, I see! Sorry, my mistake. (Not only am I a sloppy editor, I'm also apparently illiterate!) Thanks for explaining that. Fixing it now!
This was an excellent read, even if it was a tad short for my tastes. The story wrapped up nicely while also leaving room for more arcs of the adventure as potential sequels.
It was nice how you did the parallel memory-recollection timeline that really helps show who the characters are. They had to have been a strange sight galloping to the call of Harmony that day.
5535677 Thank you! I'm glad you liked the flashback format. I wasn't sure whether those bits would come across as helpful and interesting or annoying and distracting, so I appreciate your positive feedback.
That's the truth. Though I suppose most other ponies were too busy staring at the sky to pay two galloping fillies much attention.
This was an interesting fic, with a number of likable characters. You've improved your writing skill over the course of its development, and it shows (the flip side of this being that the early chapters' pacing isn't as solid as the later chapters').
One part of the fic trips it up, though: The epiphany in Ascension (Part 3). Hearing "All positive emotions come from the Elements and only by letting the Elements into your heart can you accomplish great things" was jarring in a pony-fic, because - having been raised in a religious environment - I've heard exactly that statement way too many times with the blanks filled in a bit differently.
If you're deliberately writing an evangelical fic, then by all means keep it as it is. You set up enough foreshadowing that it _does_ actually fit within the narrative. The problem is that anyone who doesn't already hold similar beliefs will probably react poorly when told that the good points of the characters they'd been looking up to don't actually belong to those characters.
If that was not your intention, the smallest change that I can think of that would remove the problem would be spelling out that the Elements amplify positive emotions rather than inspiring them, and likewise clarifying that the Windigos amplify negative emotions rather than providing them from nowhere, as the latter is ambiguous in your fic (Frostbane's internal monologue is inconsistent about whether her ruthlessness comes from her and is amplified or is an alien mindset that the Windigos imposed).
That said, this was definitely an interesting read, and I like how you managed to set up a plot where none of the apparent bad-guys were actually bad-guys. Even Blacktalon might only have gotten really bad after prolonged exposure to the Windigoes (the fic is ambiguous about that).
Huh? What? I'm not crying, I just--*sobs*--got some feels in my eyes! I'm not crying, you're crying!
Hey every one I need to ask a favor,
I don't know if this is just me or sometimes I've noticed the site keeps certain stories in your face and even if you know what to look for you won't find it.
Well this has been me for months but I read a story similar to this where the princesses have been killed by assassins and after the story takes place thousands of years later the tribes have split up and formed a unicorn high council,a earth pony kingdom, and pegasi have escaped into the clouds and during a backstory arch the descendants of the mane six tried to keep everyone together in ponyville, but the others didn't listen and it was destroyed thousands of years before the main part of the story then we come to a earth pony couple hiding in a tent about to have a baby and are being hunted down by unicorns. So right as they burst into the tent and try to take the new filly, who turns out to be an alicorn, she reacts and blows them away with a burst of power, then the story goes on the her life and trying to find out why she is an alicorn. It was a really good story but it's been forever since I've read it and I would really appreciate some help if you've heard of it. THANK YOU!