Chapter III
Even with Raven’s guidance, it took Twilight three attempts to find the house.
Not for lack of trying; on her third flight along the Witherrun’s gently-burbling waters, the house simply appeared as she rounded a bend in the brook’s course. It sat there, nestled comfortably in a medium-sized, well-kept clearing amid grasses that danced gently in a small breeze, and Twilight frowned.
Three times, and only now had the house deigned to reveal itself to her.
If they are down there, I really might give them a piece of my mind first…
But no figures emerged as her hooves touched soil, and Twilight advanced upon the building with ears swiveling at every rustle and whisper.
The house, she thought, was clearly built not by experts but had rather been added on hodge-podge over many years. The original core might have been built of wooden logs, but one wall replaced at one point with carefully-set stones. Another rose of bricks, the mortar aged and flaking, while one clearly added-on segment rose with walls of solid volcanic rock, seemingly drawn from the very earth itself.
The front door itself was a massive oaken thing, positively humming with enchantments - the soprano hum of unicorn spellwork, the actinic scent of pegasi weatherwork, and the deeper, earthy pressure of the magic of the earth.
There was also something else, Twilight thought. A deeper, richer, more alien magic that made her wings flutter and coat stand on end.
This was undoubtedly a dwelling of the Sisters.
The front door was also cracked open, which momentarily gave Twilight pause. She settled for knocking against the frame, but not waiting to be welcomed in.
“Princess Celestia? Luna?” she called, then stuck her head within.
Within was surprisingly undecorated. It was almost homelike - surprisingly, perhaps. Time-worn cushions rested about a solid, if unpolished wooden table. Shelves formed of materials as varied as the building’s walls, as if somepony had been experimenting with materials in construction.
It was the shelves’ contents which drew Twilight almost magnetically through the front door. Aged, dry leaves swirled about her hooves; she paused, momentarily hobbled by the overwhelming sense of trespassing, but proceeded with a snort into the gloomy interior.
I don’t really belong here, either.
The first lamp she found proved to be dry of oil or wax. Twilight lit her horn instead, ignoring the latent buzzing the act forced into her skull.
Revealed in the light of her magic, treasure lined the walls.
No works of great power were held here, no relics of unspeakable magic. Instead, before her eyes, was a tiny statue: An alicorn, reared in flight, formed of some gleaming dark-grey stone. Only when Twilight drew her muzzle close to it and found her nose tingling with static did she realize the ‘statue’ had in fact been formed of condensed cloudstuff, carved with incredible deftness and enchanted to remain perpetually unevaporated.
Beside it, a scrap of paper - likewise frozen in time, insulated from decay - revealed a sketch of an alicorn sprawled on her back in a sunbeam, legs inelegantly waving in mid air, her face a picture of blissful relaxation. A touch of heat warmed Twilight’s cheeks as she noted Celestia’s mark, sketchy but unmistakable, on the mare’s flanks.
One after another, crafts of hoof, horn, and wing presented themselves to Twilight Sparkle as she walked, and with each one her stomach sank even as her heart fluttered.
For while the house was a treasure-house of artwork, its creators were absent.
Not hooves on wood or stone beside her own, and a sensible layer of dust settled evenly on most surfaces… through room after room, the initial haunting feeling of trespassing upon a sacred redoubt faded, replaced in turn by a steadily-solidifying certainty. If they were here since they vanished, it wasn’t recent.
Nor was there any sign of a consolation prize - a log, a journal, a record of any kind to offer insight into the misty, chaotic days from which the Sisters’ rule had emerged.
With her hooves no longer held back by the powerful feeling of intrusion into another home, Twilight proceeded into the next room. More of the same was revealed there - shelves whose contents, had she even a moment when worry did not harry her thoughts, would have provided an eternity of fascinated investigation.
But not even the slightest sign of either of them.
As if to taunt her, the next turn brought Twilight up short: Hooves skidding on the stone floor, her heart jumping nearly into her throat, tail snapping down as a slight whinny broke from her throat.
Before her, two figures loomed - a larger and a smaller, armored in solid plate and gleaming in her horn-light. Twilight fell to her rump, her hornlight swelling from an illuminating glow to full ignition-
Ponyquins. They’re ponyquins. For holding armor. That’s it. Armor. Just armor.
…armor?
Armor it undoubtedly was, but Twilight (once her heart no longer seemed to threaten to break through her ribs from beating so hard) found she could not identify the make or type. Warfare not being a topic that had thrilled her, the sketches of stylizations in Shining Armor’s books had still been a subject of unavoidable study.
Still, just armor.
Swallowing, Twilight huffed and stood. Her coat was laying flat again, and she edged (perhaps too cautiously, but still) around the armored figures.
Behind them stood another pair, and yet another pair following that.
Emergence from the house some hours later found the sun already edging towards the horizon, transforming the woods surrounding the clearing to a chiaroscuro of golden-red rays and shadow. Twilight paused on the threshold, eyes turning skyward.
It took only a thought to give the Sun its regular nudge, a gentle, caressing warmth radiating from the amulet resting upon her chest. Barely had the warmth faded when a cooler touch followed it, and the pale, full moon joined it in the sky instead.
A frown touched Twilight’s lips, her magic probing the amulet’s boundaries. As usual, it was an impossible knot of spellwork. Her mind’s eye could trace the flow of stellar energies traveling through it, delicate yet unimaginably powerful. Loops that seemed to recursively feed upon themselves, yet generate the awesome might needed for the task without straining.
It stands to reason that it must still be linked to them somehow, if it’s feeding their magic to me. If only I could figure out that link, I could try and trace it to them.
But…
The argument was an old, familiar one, like a friend met for a regular drink in a familiar spot. And like before, it left Twilight with the same conclusion:
Do nothing that could endanger it. The consequences of losing Equestria’s only means to control the Sun and Moon are too much.
She let the amulet fall from her magical grip, the weight of its chain again settling on her shoulders. Too great a weight, it seemed, for such a small trinket.
It’s the weight of my choices.
Speaking of which…
Twilight turned back to take one last look at the house. She could search it again - There’s always the chance of a hidden passage you missed; Luna loved those so much! - but in her heart she already knew: This place had been a refuge to the Sisters, but not an archive. Nothing had been left, deliberately or by chance, which may give her insight.
I need to rest before I burn out. Then, I’ll just have to look for ideas from more mortal sources.
Ponyville sounds good.
“Twilight! Your Highness! Good to see you!” Rockhoof exclaimed, slamming a hoof around her withers in a typically enthusiastic greeting. In spite of his age - once the rich color of wheat, his mane had long since been stained, then overtaken by gray, and his legs were no longer tree-trunk thick as they once had been - Twilight still felt herself wince under the impact.
“Hello, Rockhoof. I’m sorry for just appearing without any warning-”
“Nonsense, Twilight! It’s not a problem at all. Tell me,what brings you to this humble tale-teller’s office?”
“Not a social visit, I’m afraid,” Twilight said with a rueful smile, “I’m actually looking for some information about long ago in Equestria, and I thought…”
“...you’d ask the pony who’d been shoved out of time for over a thousand years?” Rockhoof continued, shooting her a sly grin. “Agh - don’t look so bashful! It’s a truth, and one I’ve come to terms with. So, what tale can I tell you?”
Twilight asked. At some point, refreshments were brought. By the end, he was grinning significantly less.
“I do not know, Twilight,” Rockhoof rumbled, “you must remember: All of that would have happened long, long after we had become lost in limbo. I never even met the Princess Celestia or Luna muzzle-to-muzzle until we returned, in fact. Had heard of them, but never met.”
Twilight, seated before him with a cup of tea balanced carefully before her hooves, nodded. “You were present in the old capital, though, after the unification?”
“A little,” Rockhoof said with a nod, setting aside his own mug - Twilight wasn’t sure, but strongly suspected it to be stronger than tea. “A few times, but sitting on my rump day-in and day-out talking about deals and agreements was not anywhere near what my destiny was, you know? We were always traveling first. Trying to find out what else was out there.”
Twilight nodded again, failing to find the proper words. Beside her, Rockhoof twisted on the cushion which he sat on. Through the window, in the courtyard of the School, a number of ponies were gathered around a stage on which a griffon was gesticulating wildly, the words being lost to distance.
“Or now,” Rockhoof added in a low rumble, “an old stallion puttering his last decades away teaching others how to listen proper to a good tale, so they can be re-told.”
The fruits of his labors were on display all around them; what might have once been intended to be the stallion’s private office had now morphed into merely an extension of the several repositories of scrolls, books, and manuscripts which Twilight had already passed on the way in. Tales, or instructions on the many ways to tell them, seemed to grow from every surface - a jungle of paper and parchment.
“It’s still a noble task.”
“Aye, it is. And I’m confident that when I’m gone, my tale will still be told. That’s the most a stallion can ask for, yes?” Rockhoof hooked one of his enormous hooves around a braid and tugged gently upon it, lost in thought. “A noble task, but not one that lends itself to politicking. No, I think Starswirl would have been better to ask about those early days - may he rest with Harmony now.”
“May he rest with Harmony now,” Twilight echoed softly. “You’re right, of course. I wish I’d had more time to talk to him, but he was… elderly. And I wouldn’t do something so terrible as call up his spirit just to answer questions.”
“So, no going back in time to ask him what things were like?” Rockhoof looked back at her with a twinkle in his eye.
Twilight merely shuddered. “I think I’ve seen enough of where attempting to interfere in the past could send us for one lifetime. If I make a habit of it, I might even risk running into myself!”
“A smart mare, you are. Some things aren’t meant for us simple ponies to seize hold of.”
They shared a small laugh at that, and then Twilight rose. “Well, Rockhoof, forgive me.for bothering you, then. I’ll get out of your mane before I take you away from teaching your tale-bearers-”
“Wait.”
Freezing half-turned from him, Twilight looked back and cocked her head, tail swishing.
“Your Highne- Twilight…” Rockhoof paused, seeming to shrink before her eyes as if some energy left him. “I… Twilight, I hope you won’t be angry at me for this. I know you were close to those two. But…”
“...Rockhoof, you know it takes a lot more than critical words to make me angry. You know that.”
His head bobbed. The mug was set down on his desk, empty but for a few drops. “Then… look. Celestia, and Luna? They scared me. Maybe you were used to it because you always knew them, but the first time I stood before them, I felt…”
A huge hoof rose to gesture uncertainty in the air. “...I felt like the tiniest foal again. All my strength, all my power, even the other five, and I felt like a newborn foal standing there.”
“They scared you.”
“You can bet your hooves they did!” Rockhoof snorted, nostrils flaring wide. “Celestia looked at me, and I felt like I was staring down an impossible mountain. Luna looked at me, and I felt as though she were crawling through the corridors of my heart.”
Twilight tilted her head, ears slightly splayed. “I… never knew. Didn’t you eventually take several tales from them, though?”
“I did. They’re - uh - they’re in here somewhere.”
Both mare and stallion looked round the room, mutually noting how the besieging of any vaguely flat surface by any suitable form of writing material was proceeding effortlessly.
“Somewhere,” echoed Twilight, who was managing to suppress the twitch in her eye.
“Somewhere.” Grunting, Rockhoof stood and circled the desk. He stopped before her, looking up yet unafraid - ears forward, tail still, meeting her eyes easily. “It got - I didn’t always feel that fear so strongly. But I always felt it. Always. They were something bigger than me, bigger than I could ever be. Never told the others either. Too personal.”
.
“But not me?”
An easy grin found its way to Rockhoof’s face. “Hah! Earth alive, no. Never you. You never felt that - overwhelming.”
He would never see the near-wince Twilight quashed at the last moment.
“I guess what I’m saying is,” Rockhoof obliviously continued, “is maybe I’m a little glad I don’t have to face that before. Maybe it’s better this way. Not having something like that on the thrones. Hope I’m not hurting your feelings, Twilight.”
“No,” Twilight said, the lie familiarly bitter on her tongue. “Thank you, Rockhoof. For being honest with me.”
Twilight sat before the Tree of Harmony, its crystalline branches bathing her in rainbow notes.
“...so I’m just not sure what to do,” she concluded. “I’ve analyzed, strategized, diagrammed, and I can’t see any way to be honest, fair, and have Equestria stick together. To do what’s right by what I believe in, or what’s… right, really, for everypony else.”
She fell silent, the words having run out.
The tree remained silent. Twilight no longer felt any surprise.
It never had chosen to speak with her.
I’m not a real princess.
Rarity bellyached mightily about her busy schedule, but in the very same breath had scheduled an entire dinner for them to share.
Her home, nowadays, was far more ordered than the Boutique once had been. Chaos, where it manifested, was contained to carefully-controlled boundaries - a table of design concepts here, a handful of preserved news sheet clippings there. The effect, Twilight thought, was of one who was balancing a space both for guests and a place to live in.
That her friend just-so-happened to have a suitable pillow for the dining room in alicorn-princess size felt somehow totally unsurprising.
“...and so, I wanted to just get your perspective on this as well,” Twilight said as the last few dishes were brought to the table. Thank Celestia for her thoughtfulness. She even remembered to serve me a little extra to make up for all the magic I’ve been spending!
“Not that I’m not thrilled you think of me when faced with such conundrums, Twilight dear, but what help can I possibly give which the legion of far-more-experienced aids, attaches, advisors, and analysts could not?” Rarity said with a cocked head.
“They’re aids, attaches, advisors…” Twilight flushed at the hard look Rarity gave her, chewed, swallowed, and grinned apologetically.
Rarity shook her head, a hoof rising to her forehead.
“I cannot believe that after all these years, and several hooves greater height, you still have not learned not to talk with your mouth full.”
“I have been burning a lot of magic today, Rarity!”
“That is not an excuse for such uncouth behavior!”
“...and that,” Twilight said, still grinning bashfully, “is exactly why I came to talk to you.”
“Because I am unafraid of calling you out on how monstrous your table manners are?”
“And because you’ve known me long enough to know them.”
Rarity opened her mouth to reply, blinked, and closed it again very slowly. A single vegetable kebab rose from her plate, and she daintily nibbled off the first piece of carrot speared upon it.
“Not that I am not flattered by your decision to seek me for advice on such a weighty matter,” she finally said, “but I must ask, why me? If this truly is a danger of ‘ancient Equestria’, what can I possibly offer that Rockhoof, or any of your advisors, could not?”
Twilight turned away, her wings shuffling. “You know I sometimes… gallop away with problems. Make them bigger than they really have any
“How bad is it?” she asked at last, setting the kebab down and carefully tucking her hooves neatly against each other. “Truly, in your mind, how dangerous is this matter?”
“Catastrophic,” Twilight said softly, “Maybe not today. Not tomorrow. But decades from now, it is quite possibly catastrophic.”
“For you?”
“Everypony. Equestria.”
A kebab was once again drawn to ivory lips and delicately nibbled upon. Twilight suddenly found she didn’t much feel like eating anymore.
“For what it is worth, Twilight,” Rarity started slowly, “I do remember what you are like when you having a…”
“...moment?” Twilight muttered, ears pinning back again.
“Yes. And, this is not it. You wear your stress openly, Twilight Sparkle. In your ears. In the flick of your tail. In the tapping of your hooves. When you are having a ‘moment’, it is evident. I do not see that here. I see a mare thoughtfully alarmed about a risk she has identified.”
“I teleported into Raven’s bedroom in the middle of the night, Rarity,” Twilight said flatly.
“...ah. And yet, you convinced her. And the rest of your cabinet, having served as such for varying numbers of years now, agree with this as well.”
“I think,” sighed Twilight, “I have Celestia to blame for that.”
Rarity raised a singular eyebrow.
“Celestia,” Twilight said with a nervous squirm, “had a record. When she became alarmed, it was… it was Nightmare Moon! Discord! The Zebra border wars, or the Great San Palomino Storm! It’s what they’re used to, and so when I get freaked out they just expect it’s the same thing because-”
A kebab filled her mouth. Rarity extinguished her horn.
“Now that was a moment from you.”
Twilight let herself have a snort, but stripped the contents from the skewer and chewed. She had to admit that when she was done, her words no longer came so quickly.
“You’ve known me ever since I came to Ponyville, Rarity, and that gives you something that those others don’t. And, I know your history too. You know a few things about being true to yourself.”
“Touche, Twilight.”
“It’s true, though. I went to my advisors first, and maybe that was wrong. You have all your employees to look after - and I know you look after them, because you would never be one of those business mares who just bleed them dry - and you know me. So I thought that’d be close enough you could give me some advice…”
“In that case, Twilight, my advice is this.”
Rarity stood up, circling about the table to stand in front of the larger mare. Twilight, though she remained prone, still found her muzzle taking on a slight downward tilt to meet her old friend’s eyes.
“You think of the throne as something immutable. Inflexible. Things are given and received according to rules - strict rules, rules which have a good reason to exist. But also rules which sometimes should be broken. You have a lot you can offer everypony in Equestria, Twilight, and if you do, then they will forever stand behind you.”
Not if I am a lie from the very first day, was what Twilight almost said.
But then she stopped.
Give, and receive. Dispense, and… want.
Maybe there’s one other I should talk to as well.
“I have given you an idea, haven’t I?” Rarity said, her lips rising in a sly grin.
“...perhaps.”
“Good.” Turning her nose skyward, Rarity circled back around to her own seat, throwing herself down with something approaching a flounce. “Act on it later. If you do not finish this meal, I shall be positively furious.”
“Of course, my most generous friend,” Twilight shot back. She even managed a small grin, shallow as it was. “Besides, this is much better than any meal I could get practically any day.”
“Liar,” Rarity said, but her eyes were fixed to Twilight’s and took in the way they softened.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Twilight folded her forelegs together and began quietly, “if Celestia or Luna ever had a close band of friends like us? Or was it always just the two of them? Did either of them sit at dinner miss older times?”
“You really do miss this, don’t you?”
“Every day. It’s not just being able to speak without being judged. It’s not just being lectured on my manners. It’s… being with friends.”
“You could always quit.”
“Tell me Rarity, honestly, how long you think Equestria would last if I did that?”
Both of them shared a (perhaps bitter-tinged) laugh at that. But when it had faded…
“Let me at least give you one night of that, Twilight,” Rarity said, her ears pinned out apprehensively until Twilight nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be heading out in the morning, so-”
“Breakfast,” Rarity hissed, eyes wide and eager with delight. “And where to after that, Twilight?”
“North. To the Crystal Empire, first thing in the morning. Not to Cadence alone, though. There’s someone else I have to speak to there.”
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I have no idea who Twilight might want to speak in the Crystal Empire. Rarity's statement about the throne not being immutable is pretty much the only good advice Twilight has received since the story has started.
Twilight could call for a constitutional convention. She could say with total honesty that the foundational laws of Equestria are patchy and improvised as a result of the Age Of Chaos and ponies focusing on not starving rather than establishing iron-clad legal precedent. In an age that is increasingly complex, cosmopolitan, and internationally connected she thinks Equestria needs something a bit more solid and the longer they wait the harder and messier it’s going to get. If the new constitution just happens to nail down what an Alicorn Princess’ authority actually is, well that’s what constitutions are for.
This is incredible and I eagerly look forward to every chapter. Thanks for all the hard work.
11886237
This.
Heh. The sisters have a hoofmade Cloudstone Curio.
”Once was enough. Arguably twice. Maybe three times if you count the mirror portal.”
“There’s a saga untold.”
“Get back to me after I’ve pinned down the legitimacy of my rule.”
In any case, Rarity definitely provided some helpful insights. Written legislation isn’t as unshakeable and immutable as the laws of physics (never mind how much flexibility Twilight can get out of those.) I’m not sure who Twilight will turn to in the Empire, but I find myself wondering if her niece will get involved.
Looking forward to more.
Yeah, talking to Rarity (and hopefully her other friends) will give her ideas on where to go. And if she's going to the Crystal Empire I'm guessing it's to see her brother? Who is the most levelheaded of the lot.
And yeah, some sort of constitutional or legislative convention to hash these sorts of issues out sounds good. Where there's so much informal tradition and things which are lost or have gone on so long out of inertia and the justification forgotten.
Do the ponies even have a legislative body though? I know there are nobles, but not sure about any other form of representation beyond the local towns.
11886237
We will get there, in a fashion...
11887287
Thank you very much! I just hope the resolution does not disappoint.
11887746
There is an alternate universe where this story is a vastly sillier one - about Twilight traveling through time to force herself into any and every major event and demanding they write that stuff down, damn you! Not because of any emotional vulnerability, but because it irks her to have such key events unrecorded!
Sadly, I write drama better than comedy. Perhaps another time.