The False Goddess

by Zoura3025

Act III, Part IV: Uncontrol

Gustopha looked around at the small congregation of ponies in the dining hall. Celestia, Heartful Surrogate, Rolling Simmer, Stoneheart, Aerated Turf, April and May Showers, and a handful of other ponies were gathered there.
Celestia smiled towards the small group. “Attention, everyone,” She began, “We’re all gathered here today to honor the birthday of our newest princess. In her short time in our eye, she has made great strides in bringing us out of the slump wrought by the war. She has shown herself to be a doctor, a diplomat, and - most importantly - a sign of hope for things to come.”
Gustopha didn’t say anything, taking in the subdued applause of the crowd. Not too loud, just how she liked it. She smiled gently, horn illuminating as she looked towards the cake. Eleven whole candles. Only Celestia, Heartful, and Gustopha herself understood the significance, but as she blew out the candles, she noticed one stubborn flame remaining alight.

“One coltfriend, woo!” Aerated cheered with a bit of a chuckle, drawing some laughter from the crowd.
Gustopha blushed faintly at the thought, but admittedly, the idea of a partner mostly slipped her mind. Gustopha hadn’t given it much thought, at least since she was reincarnated. She leaned forward to blow out the stubborn candle, huffing gently as she did so.
She then took a large knife and cut the cake carefully. Her extensive surgical practice reared its head as each piece was rent to almost exactly the same size. Once the cutting was finished, Gustopha leaned away and smiled gently at the partygoers. “Go ahead, everyone,” She invited gently.

The mood of the party was intimate, with most patrons talking amongst themselves. Gustopha smiled as she saw everypony interacting, nibbling at her own slice of cake.
Heartful Surrogate approached her and smiled gently. “Goodness… It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you, Princess,” She expressed, her smile fading a bit, “You look tired.”
Gustopha hesitated. “Is it that obvious I’ve been working hard?” She asked.
Heartful nodded a bit. “You’ve been doing good work, from what I’ve heard. Just be sure to take proper care of yourself, okay?” She requested.

“I am,” Gustopha promised, “I’m ensuring I adequately pace myself…”
Heartful hesitantly nodded. “Oh, but here I am, nagging you on your special day,” She huffed gently, “I’m very proud of you, Gustopha.”
Gustopha smiled gently. “Thank you, Heartful,” She replied, gently pulling the mare into a hug.
Heartful smiled and hugged back. “Of course, Gustopha,” She replied.

After some time, the party concluded. It was a nice memory for Gustopha; not too loud, but it rang true in her heart as a beacon of goodness over a mire of pain, exhaustion, and tedium. Tedium, in particular, would return quickly. Time seemed to go by faster than ever; winter was over before Gustopha even knew it. Then came spring, then summer began.
It was one early summer afternoon that things took an unexpected turn.

“...Just a little pinch,” Gustopha said gently as she lightly poked the needle into the shoulder of her latest subject.
“How many verdants have you made now, Princess?” Asked the stallion, named Latent Requiem.
“You are the three hundred and second,” Gustopha replied softly.
Requiem nodded. “I see,” He replied, “This must be routine for you, then.”
Gustopha chuckled wearily. “You have no idea,” She remarked softly, “For you, it will be a simple nap.”
He nodded. “Of course,” The stallion replied, “Thank you for your service to us all, Princess…” He trailed off as the drugs fully kicked in.
Gustopha sighed gently and prepared herself.

Gustopha hesitated as she readied her operating tools. Something struck her as off about Requiem as she prepared to operate, and thus she dowsed first. She’d had a few subjects that had given her off readings, so she occasionally had to check for any abnormalities. He seemed a bit overcharged, but that could’ve just been from the handful of sedentary days leading up to the surgery. Nothing dangerously out of the ordinary, Gustopha decided, and she decided to progress onward with the surgery.

The incision was made, the plant carefully threaded around, and then she tried moving his magic. It was a much greater arcane mass than she was used to; overenergization could account for some of it, but this was nigh-anomalous. With the strain of managing the extra magic, she stumbled slightly, and knocked over the tray of medical tools to her side. The noise released was ear-piercingly loud, and a stray scalpel managed to cut at her leg.

The briefest lapse in focus very gravely cost her. She lost hold of the earth pony’s magic, and had to fight to restabilize it. Gustopha panted hard as she looked at the intense miasma of magic before her. Gustopha realized what she had happened: A worst-case scenario. The magic had taken the path of least resistance out of the body. But it wasn’t just casted magic; it was all of Latent Requiem’s magic. The very fiber of his being now trembled and struggled against her aura.

Gustopha fought back panic. What she had done, at least in the way that it had happened, was irreversible. She had, in essence, ripped out the stallion’s soul, and once that step had been taken, there were only a handful of artifacts that could reverse it. Gustopha was now faced with a choice: Cludge a solution, or let the stallion die.
Neither situation was particularly optimal. Or good at all, really. He had put so much trust into her, and now she had no choice but to mess up.

The flesh was too strong to fully reaccept its magic, but there were other ways she could try to feed it back in. Out of options, she removed the scion from Requiem’s abdomen and prepared herself to perform a cludge that would have made any doctor, perhaps even Thanamus, question if she were fit to operate.
The realm of the living was no longer an option, so closing her eyes and working directly in ethereal space was her path forward. Carefully, she wove together what remained of Requiem’s body magic with his spirit. It fought the bridge at first, struggling and straining against the new binds. Then, it split. A menagerie of seven wisps of pure life energy. Gustopha managed to force the largest one into Requiem’s body, tying it to the other six.

Gustopha panted as she opened her eyes. Only once the magic no longer fought her grasp did she allow it some freedom. The fresh wisps bobbled around for a moment, visible as faint, shimmering flames of magic. Then, they settled into a steady orbit. Then, they slowed to a halt, calming.
Gustopha trembled, her horn illuminating as she fixed up the cut-open part of Requiem’s flank. Her fix to his magic seemed stable, at least for now, but what had she created?
Gustopha hardly noticed the faint trickle of blood following her as she moved the stallion into one of the recovery rooms.

When Latent Requiem stirred awake, the princess was standing over him with a concerned expression. His mind felt busy, and buzzed with soft thoughts. Voices, aside from his own. He blinked once or twice.
“...Oh, thank goodness…” Gustopha murmured softly, “Are you okay?” She asked.
Latent took a long moment to gather himself. He felt very strange. Somewhat airy, as if he weren’t entirely settled on the ground.
It took him some more time to steady his thoughts. The voices remained as a dull roar in the background, but he could at least hear himself. “Did… Did it go okay?” He asked.
Gustopha frowned. “N-...” Her voice caught in her throat, “No, it didn’t. I am so, so sorry.”
Latent blinked as some tears formed in the corners of Gustopha’s eyes. “What happened?” He asked.

Gustopha heaved. “There was an accident in the magic moving phase,” She expressed, “I’ve ensured you’re stable, but you’re… Well, I’m not sure what you are.”
Latent attempted to sit up. His body felt heavy, but surprisingly not weak. He’d heard the anesthesia tended to drain one’s strength.
Then, one of the wisps came into view. Then another, then two more, then the last two.
“What are these…?” He asked, tone a soft groan.
“Those are most of your magic,” Gustopha expressed, “Some of it lies within you still, but much now occupies the space outside of you.”
Latent Requiem felt the voices rise in the back of his head again. Now, though, he understood where they were coming from.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus himself. The wisps slowly collapsed into defined shapes. Equid figures, of a ghostly quality, with limbs like partially unfolded bedsheets. Slowly, they came to sit on the floor before him, looking up with vacant hollows tinted various colours.
Gustopha blinked. “Are you doing that?” She asked.
Requiem nodded. “In part, I think…” He said softly, “I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, though.”
Gustopha nodded gently, sticking near the earth pony.
“I believe I’m communing with them. They’re spirits, but also parts of my thoughts. I can hear them speaking to me,” Requiem attempted.
Gustopha, again, nodded. “Spirits?” She asked, “I can see them too, you’re not hallucinating.”

Requiem nodded again. Carefully, he guided one of the small spirit ponies towards the table, it grabbed the cup of water with its mouth and brought it towards him. “...Sorry, may I have a drink?” He asked.
Gustopha nodded, and he took the cup, sipping from it. “Pardon my silent observation. This is just as extraordinary to me as it is to you,” She expressed.
Requiem looked at her. “What does this make me?” He asked.
Gustopha bit her lip. “Well… For want of a better term, most definitely an anomaly,” She replied, “I’ve never seen such a form of magic. I’m tempted to call it some form of unicornism, but unicorn magic must be guided through the horn, not simply directed.”
Carefully, Gustopha reached out, lightly stroking one of the spirit ponies’ mane. It briefly looked at her, before suddenly going intangible. Gustopha blinked as her hoof abruptly phased through the spirit.
“...Selective tangibility,” Gustopha noted under her breath.

“So… What happens now?” Latent Requiem asked, looking up at the princess expectantly with his still partially sedated eyes.
“I would like to keep you for some time,” Gustopha expressed, “I’m not certain what sort of effects having a majority of magic outside your body will have, and what I’ve seen so far is definitely unexpected.”
Requiem nodded solemnly. “Understood,” He replied softly, “You will notify my family, right?” He asked.
Gustopha tensed a bit, but nodded. “Of course,” She replied.
“I don’t blame you for this,” Requiem attempted to assure her, “You told me there were dangers.”
Gustopha looked away, eyes hiding behind her mane. “...You’re my first failure,” She admitted softly, “You entrusted me with your life and magic, and I mangled you.”

Requiem shivered slightly from the harsh tone in Gustopha’s voice. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?” He asked, straining himself to sit up.
“That’s not the point, Latent Requiem,” Gustopha heaved, “I failed you as a doctor.”
Requiem thought for a long moment. “The procedure failed, perhaps, but you still saved me. That accounts for something, doesn’t it?’ He asked.
Gustopha sighed a bit. “...I suppose one could argue that, yes,” She supposed.
Requiem gave her a weak smile. “I entrust myself to your care, whatever that entails,” He said gently.
Gustopha sighed gently and nodded. “Very well,” She heaved, “Thank you for your forgiveness, Latent Requiem.”
Requiem nodded a bit, and lowered himself back into the cot, smiling awkwardly. “I… Think I need some more time to rest,” He expressed gently.
Gustopha nodded a bit. “Sleep well,” She bade gently, leaving the room with a hard sigh.

Gustopha retreated to her room and settled herself in bed, curling in on herself and sniffling a bit. That thought consumed her; one, solitary word that broke her down to the very core: Failure.
She should have known it was dangerous, that she was messing with things she only mostly understood. But the fact it all went so wrong, so quickly, stuck with her.
Perhaps even more bewilderingly, he didn’t seem upset at all. He was calmer than most of the subjects who’d had the procedure go right, even. It confused her. By all accounts, he should have been furious; or at least upset.

Gustopha trembled a bit. Where could she go from here? She didn’t want to do this anymore. She curled tighter, and began to sob as the word ran through her mind, over and over. Failure, failure, failure, failure, failure. She’d screwed up, and was not about to let herself forget it.

Sometime later, the door opened, and Celestia walked in, accompanied by a nurse.
“Gustopha? Gustopha, are you alright?” Celestia asked, walking up to the earth alicorn’s bed.
Celestia pulled the covers down, revealing Gustopha’s bloodshot eyes. Celestia bit her lip and settled herself next to her sister. “Gustopha, what’s wrong?” She asked, voice a bit gentle.
Gustopha didn’t say anything, only shuffling over a bit to allow her sister some more room on the bed.
Celestia reached out and gently stroked Gustopha’s mane. “It’s okay,” She cooed gently, “You can tell me.”

Gustopha took a long moment before replying, weakly croaking out, “I-I botched a surgery today.”
Celestia’s eyes widened slightly, and she slid further onto Gustopha’s mattress, scooping Gustopha up and rolling a bit, so Gustopha was resting against her underbelly. Celestia huffed slightly from the effort; Gustopha was not a little filly anymore, even if Celestia still admittedly thought her one, deep down.

“What happened?” Celestia asked gently, letting Gustopha rest against her.
Gustopha shuffled a bit, but didn’t reject Celestia’s embrace. “I misjudged the arcane mass of the subject, and in the strain, knocked over a tray of tools. The noise broke my focus, and n-now, he’s…” She closed her eyes tightly as she trailed off.
Celestia hesitated. “Did you… Lose him?” She asked gently.
“N-no, he’s just resting right now,” Gustopha replied gently, “But his magic, it’s all… Fragmented. I managed to bind some of it back to him, but I still mangled him.”

Celestia bit her tongue. It wasn’t exactly a good outcome, but from what Gustopha had described to her in the past, surviving a thaumatological screw-up like that was generally miraculous, given that magical “unbinding” effectively removed the soul from the body.
“...So what happens now?” Celestia eventually asked, her voice low and gentle.
“I’m going to keep him around for some time, to make sure he’s stable,” Gustopha explained gently, “I can’t keep him forever.”
Celestia nodded a bit. “Of course,” She replied gently, “I think it would be best if you took a break from doing surgery for a little while.”
Gustopha let out a small, pathetic whine. An utterly hopeless, defeated noise; the sound an animal made when it lacked the energy to express its pain properly.
Celestia gently stroked Gustopha’s side. “I know it’s scary for you,” Celestia cooed softly, “But you’ve hundreds of successful surgeries under your belt. One failure won’t be the end of the world,” She promised.

Gustopha whimpered a bit and curled up some in Celestia’s embrace. Celestia didn’t let go; she could practically feel the pain radiating off of the distraught alicorn, and didn’t want to let her go until she was a bit more stable.
“...I want to stop,” Gustopha eventually admitted, “I want to give it all up.”
Celestia stopped herself from replying hastily.
“But I can’t. There’s too much riding on my success,” Gustopha heaved softly.
Celestia’s muzzle pressed into Gustopha’s forehead. “You don’t need to do it all at once,” She promised softly, “Take some time for yourself; clear your head. Then, when you’re ready, you come back to it, with a fresh perspective.”
Gustopha nodded a little and nestled into Celestia a bit more. “Okay,” She replied quietly.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Celestia asked gently, “We followed a trail of blood up to your room.”
Gustopha blinked, horn illuminating to peel back the bedding. The small cut on her leg had mostly sealed up by now, though a small trail of blood made itself known. “Ah, right. One of the scalpels cut me when I knocked the tray over,” She admitted.
The nurse Celestia had brought with her stepped forward, bringing forth a damp cloth to clean down the smeared trail of alicorn blood. “I’ll get you cleaned up and then leave you two alone,” They hummed gently.
Gustopha’s leg twitched at the touch, but she forced a gentle smile. “Thank you,” She replied softly.
The nurse finished cleaning down Gustopha’s leg and quickly left the room, leaving the two alicorns alone.

Celestia gently rubbed Gustopha’s side. “Do you want to be alone for a bit?” She asked gently.
Gustopha shook her head. “You’re fine,” She replied in a soft murmur.
“What else did you have planned for the week?” Celestia asked.
Gustopha bit her lip. “Ten more subjects and overseeing foals,” She remarked.
“Foals?” Celestia asked.
“Aerated and May should be due any day now,” Gustopha expressed, “I’m not responsible for delivery, but I will be doing check ups and whatnot on the foals to see if they’ve inherited verdant magic.”
“You think they’ll inherit it?” Celestia asked.
Gustopha nodded. “The grafting is magical in nature, so in theory, it should shape the body,” She explained gently, “That is to say, a verdant can parent other verdants.”

Celestia pondered this thought for a moment. “So in other words, now that the door on that type of pony magic is opened…” She trailed off.
“It can’t be closed again… At least, not without genocide,” Gustopha remarked.
That wasn’t a word Celestia expected to hear from Gustopha’s mouth, even despite how much the filly had grown in the past year and a half. It was quite an aggressive epithet, even if not a cuss in the conventional meaning of the word.
Celestia cleared her throat awkwardly, and nodded. “Well… We’ll just have to ensure that the foals are loved the same, verdant or not,” She replied gently.
Gustopha smiled a little. “I’m sure Aerated and May will make wonderful mothers,” She replied gently, “And Stoneheart a similarly good father, even if his efforts will be divided.”
“You have faith in them, I take it?” Celestia asked.

“A lot of faith,” Gustopha replied, “They’ve had some experience, handling a reckless child…”
Celestia smiled a bit. “Might I know who that is?” She asked.
“You already do,” Gustopha hummed.
Celestia hugged Gustopha tighter and let out a small chuckle. “You’re not reckless. You take too much care in your actions; you study, you prepare, and then you act. That’s not reckless, at least to me,” Celestia expressed.
“And the other term?” Gustopha replied.
“You’re not wrong about that one,” Celestia supposed, “You’re the youngest ruler Equestria has ever had by at least a decade, and likely the youngest surgeon by a similar amount as well.”
Gustopha blinked. “Really?” She asked.

Celestia nodded. “The youngest I’ve met, at the very least,” She replied, before shaking herself off, “But, that’s not my point. My point is that you shouldn’t hold yourself to the standards of adults that have had years to practice their craft. You’ll make mistakes, yes, but you have a lot of time to grow.”
Gustopha hesitated. “I’m working with pony lives, Celestia. I can’t afford to make mistakes,” She heaved softly.
Celestia sighed gently. “Unfortunately the mistakes are going to happen whether you can afford them or not, Gustopha,” She admitted solemnly, “But you have to understand that life goes on. One failure does not invalidate all your successes.”
Gustopha sat contemplatively on that thought for a long moment, eyes closing in deep thought. It was a hard idea to realize, to make her own. Eventually, she diverted to other thoughts.

“I just don’t understand why he was so permissive of it,” Gustopha expressed, “Would you not be mortified if you woke up with your magic irreparably mangled?”
Celestia bit her lip. “I suppose it depends in what way it was mangled,” She hummed, “Just being changed isn’t inherently a bad thing for magic, you know.”
Gustopha’s eyes widened a bit at this proclamation. “It’s… It’s not?” She asked.
“Well, let me ask you this: Do you think I’ve always had the power to move both the sun and moon?” Celestia posed.
“Well… I suppose not,” Gustopha replied softly, her voice growing slightly confused.
“Moving the moon didn’t come naturally; I needed to change - in your words, ‘mangle’ - my magic to achieve such a feat,” Celestia hummed, “But it is good I did so, for everypony. Change is not, in and of itself, a bad thing.”
That point was, admittedly, much more convincing to Gustopha; empirical evidence was much better than simple conjecture. “I… I suppose that makes sense,” She conceded.

Celestia smiled gently. “I’m glad to hear that, Gustopha,” Celestia said gently, again stroking her adopted sister’s mane.
Gustopha leaned into Celestia and relaxed a bit, breathing softly, letting her mind drift over her plans for the near future. Overseeing foals, Latent Requiem, and perhaps a visit to the Groves to check on how Halley was doing all awaited her in the near future. Perhaps it would be good for her to space out her trials a bit.
“...Once I finish the ten subjects that are here, I think I’m going to take you up on your offer for a break,” Gustopha admitted.
“You can’t put them off for some time?” Celestia asked.
Gustopha shook her head. “They’ve traveled from far and wide to be part of these trials, and multiple are already being medicated in preparation for the grafting,” She explained with a small sigh, “It wouldn’t be right to ask them to postpone their lives even further for my sake.”

Celestia sighed gently, but nodded. “I suppose that’s fair enough,” She said, “Just please, do not overwork yourself.”
Gustopha gave a small nod. “Last batch for now,” She promised, “Then I’ll take some time for myself.”
“Good,” Celestia replied, giving Gustopha a small squeeze, “Come on, let’s go get you some dinner. Bleeding all over the castle can’t be good for you.”
Gustopha nodded a bit. “I didn’t even realize I was bleeding,” She admitted as she stood up, helping Celestia to her hooves.
Celestia nodded a little. “I suppose if you’re wrapped up in your own thoughts, you wouldn’t notice a small nick,” She hummed.
Gustopha replied with a small, affirmatory “Mhm” as she followed Celestia to the dining hall.

Sure enough, Gustopha had left a fairly defined trail of blood, leading from the infirmary to her room. It was already beginning to be cleaned up, and the princess offered a small apology to each maid they passed.
Celestia smiled gently at her as they sat down, chuckling gently. “You don’t have to worry about the castle staff. Believe me, Luna and I… Took them for granted, when we were younger,” She explained.
“For granted?’ Gustopha asked, tilting her head a bit.

“You wouldn’t be able to tell now, but I was quite the mud wrestler when I was younger,” Celestia explained with a chuckle, “And when I was undefeated five-and-oh after practice, I just barged on in like I owned the place.”
Gustopha cracked a smile at the story.
“My bath time was measured in hours; oh, how my mother loathed seeing me come back from practices,” Celestia further recalled, laughing heartily at the memories.

Gustopha chuckled softly. “Tex used to mud wrestle, too,” She explained gently, “I went to practice with him one time.”
Celestia cocked a brow. “Oh? Why only once?” She asked.
“He only won once, but it was his last match of the day, so he charged right up and gave me a big hug,” Gustopha explained, “He was a pegasus, but in that moment, he was more earth than pony,” She quipped with a small giggle.
Celestia started laughing again at the mental image of a colt, dripping in mud, tackling Gustopha in a hug.
“After that, I wouldn’t let him even look at me until he’d at least been brushed off,” Gustopha expressed with some more gentle chuckles.
“You sound just like Luna when she was younger,” Celestia remarked, wiping some laughter-induced tears from her eyes, “Oh, how she avoided me like the plague after practice.”

Gustopha heaved gently, her smile shrinking a bit, but remaining on her face.
“With a story like that, I suppose there’s a tinge of irony to you being the princess of the earth, hm?” Celestia asked.
Gustopha smiled gently. “I suppose there is,” She replied softly, a small bit of latent laughter punctuating her speech, “Though I did grow out of my cleanliness phase eventually… I became quite the street rat for a while.”
Celestia tilted her head. “A street rat?” She asked.
Gustopha hesitated, but smiled gently. “A pickpocket, in particular,” She admitted, “I’d purloin things from some of the larger caravans; I’d slip into a crowd, sneak something small between an adult’s legs, and leave.”
Celestia chuckled. “What sort of things did you take?” She asked.

Gustopha, again, hesitated. “Just little things; bits of food, mostly. I grew up as an only child in the early stages of the war, before the blight was loosed, and my mother always overstocked the pantry; most of what I stole went to Tex, since he was the youngest in a family of five,” She admitted.
Celestia nodded slowly. “I see,” She replied, before a smile made itself present on her face again, “Even at a young age, you were trying to help others.”
Gustopha smiled humbly. “Well, it was still selfish, in a way. Tex was really my only friend,” She expressed, “I never made it to public schooling, and Tex’s family was too poor to send every child to school.” Her smile faded.
Celestia’s did the same. “Ah… Self-taught, then,” She hummed, “You are quite the hard studier; I suppose I took you for an educated pony.”
“I spent a lot of time reading books with my mother,” Gustopha conceded, “I learned a lot from those stories.”

Celestia nodded gently. “I’m sure she’d be very proud of you if she saw you today,” She expressed, giving Gustopha a gentle smile.
Gustopha smiled a little and chuckled. “She’d probably say the same things that you say to me,” She admitted, “That I need to break my routine and leave the castle more. She always forced me outside so I’d go get fresh air.”
Celestia laughed, perhaps a bit too much, at Gustopha’s remark. “You’ve spent your whole life being told you need to spend more time outside, haven’t you?” Celestia asked.
Gustopha nodded a bit and chuckled along. “More or less,” She replied, “It wasn’t always recreation; every so often I’d be sent out to buy something or fetch the mail. It’s where I learned the basics of talking to other ponies.”

Celestia smiled. “Well, you certainly nailed down some good basics,” She expressed, “I can see the makings of an excellent diplomat in you; an analytical edge isn’t only good for thaumatology, you know,” She expressed.
Gustopha thought for a moment. “A diplomat?” She asked, more for the sake of pondering out loud than clarification.

“A pony who can approach foreign council with an open, but well-reasoned mind. Neither Luna or I were particularly excellent foreign diplomats; as you might have seen with a relative lack of non-ponies living within kingdom bounds,” Celestia explained, “Not to mention, well… The whole reason you have had to step up as a diplomat in the first place.” Celestia frowned a bit, looking away slightly.

Gustopha thought for a moment. “Once I’m done with the verdants, I’ll have more time… Perhaps I’ll spend it on trying to make peace with our neighbors,” She supposed.
Celestia nodded a bit. “There’s no rush, Gustopha. We, at the very least, aren’t at war with any of our foreign parties,” She expressed.
Gustopha hummed briefly in thought. “Well, that makes things easier,” She supposed.
Celestia nodded a bit and began to eat some of her dinner. Gustopha pondered as she ate, mind racing. She hadn’t researched too much into any sort of diplomatic skill, but it did appeal to her. She put a pin in that subject in her mind, and focused on eating.

After dinner, Gustopha shook herself off a bit. “I think I’m going to turn in early…” She admitted, “I’d like to get some rest after today.”
Celestia nodded a bit, hugging Gustopha firmly. “Of course,” She replied, “Have a good sleep, dear sister.”
Gustopha hugged back and left for her room. Celestia moved towards her own room, walking inside and closing the door. She walked to her bedside, and opened the drawer, looking at the tightly curled up piece of paper.
“A whole year, and I still haven’t sent you,” Celestia sneered to herself, horn illuminating and taking the paper, “Tonight is the night I no longer let this solely be Gustopha’s problem.”
Celestia walked to her balcony and cast the doors open. The moon was already beginning to drift towards the horizon, as if antsy. It was winter; that was fairly normal. The moon’s bond to the earth was stronger in the winter, as the sun’s was in the summer.

Celestia set the sun and raised the moon, and took a deep breath. The last time she had sent anything to the moon, she’d possessed the elements of harmony, and banished some thousand ponies, including her beloved sister, to the moon, with the intent of never permitting their return. Now, well… Celestia just hoped tensions had eased a bit.
With all her might, Celestia braced herself on the balcony, and sent the letter skyward. The moon “catching” whatever was sent close enough to it was a distinct feeling, but Celestia was still caught off-guard by the lurch.

Celestia sat on her balcony, deep in thought, contemplating the past couple years deeply. She’d made a deal with a mad scientist to make her a sister that Celestia still felt somewhat distanced from, watched as said sister tried to clean up a mess left behind by her other sister, and now faced the mental challenge of trying to forgive herself. Celestia sighed softly.
Her focus was broken by a bright blue streak of light, falling towards her. She yipped in surprise, leaping out of the way of the falling object, watching as it crashed into balcony in a flash of blue and silver light. Left behind, in the shallowest of divots, was a letter.
Celestia unraveled the letter, and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the contents. It didn’t take her long to figure out who the letter was from.

“Sister,
Over these past decades, we have learned truly the strain placed upon a ruler. We have witnessed, firsthoof, the trials and tribulations one faces attempting to appease the many. This is not our way of excusing your actions; but it is our way of forgiving them on a professional level. Already, we seek peace with Equestria, and allowing our own personal thoughts to interfere with our ponies’ chances of redemption is not an endeavour we wish to partake in.

We do, however, concede our own crimes. The creation of the blight and the brutal treatment of captured prisoners were not excusable on our part as ruler. We understand that there will likely be tartarus to pay when we return. For that eventuality, we are both prepared and welcoming.

Hold your head high, sister. This is not the finality of our peace talks; it is only the beginning.
Signed, Luna”

Celestia almost laughed at how overly formal Luna’s supposedly personal letter was, but pressed it closed to her chest. “Thank you, Luna… I look forward to the day we finally sit down and work things out, face to face,” She whispered.
Celestia walked inside, set the letter gently in her nightstand, and laid herself on her bed. As her eyes closed, she thought happy thoughts for the future. Hopeful thoughts.