Xenophilia: Further tales.

by TheQuietMan

80: Like the sun we will live and die.

Like the sun we will live and die.
Chapter published 4th Jan 2015

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Mid October.
Two hundred and twenty years after the unification of Equestria.
Eight years since the fall of Princess Luna’s New Lunar Republic.

Sodden ground squelched beneath heavy hooves; mud was pushed and pulled, indents forming with every hoof-fall, remaining in place after every lift. Soft sucking noises accompanied every step as a lone figure wandered the land, the ground itself pulling at her horseshoes with each step she took, threatening to hold them fast even as their owner carried on her slow plodding pace, not at all caring what she might leave behind.

Eventually a horseshoe came free, the suction from the boggy ground stronger than its owner’s will to retain her hoofware. Not even noticing its absence, nor that of the two lost before it, the large pony wandered away, the tarnished golden horseshoe left abandoned in the mud behind her.

With her next step, her unshod hoof touched the ground, sinking into the mire. But the mud could find no purchase, could not stick to the gleaming white fur that pushed against it. As the hoof was lifted away - its owner continuing her journey, focusing on nothing but her next step - any muck that had managed to cling on and be lifted with it immediately dried, flaked and fell back to the ground.

In the pony’s wake was left a trail of hoofprints, each baked solid by the supernatural warmth of her skin. In time, the falling rain would soften each print, the shape becoming indistinct, eventually merging back into the surrounding mud. In time there would be no visible sign that this traveller was any different from any other that had walked these trails in recent years.

Through wind and rain, howling gales and hammering sleet, she walked, ever onwards, as she had done for days now. She had no destination in mind, no predefined goal nor solid destination, but she knew where she’d end up anyway. It was where she always ended up, the one place that called to her whenever she need to think, whenever she need time alone, whenever she just needed time itself.

Her hooves moved on, ever moving, one after the other. She had not slept for days, had not eaten... she had no real need of either, her gift, if one could call it so, had made sure of that long, long ago.

In time she came to the hill... her hill. For the first time in - who knew how long? - she lifted her head, weary eyes taking in the world around her. The rain still fell from the grey, overcast skies, as it had for weeks now... but still for less than a heartbeat in the grand scheme of things. When you thought in years, decades, centuries even; what did a few days here or there really matter?

Stretching out before her - the far distance obscured by the rainfall, fading into obscurity - lay the place of her birth. She’d come here countless times over just as countless a number of years. Over the many centuries since she had been turned, she’d found that returning here gave her peace, reminded her of a time when she had been so small, and the world so large, and yet so simple at the same time.

And how simple it had been; she had been born, and grown, and played and loved. Her life had been easy, her path so clear. She would prove her worth to the tribe, win a mate, find a herd, then raise a family and watch over it until she went to meet the maker. That was it; simple, straightforward, uncomplicated.

But, what fate had had in store for her, it had been far from a ‘normal’ life. Destiny, it had seemed, had been nurturing other plans for her future, a quiet death at a grand old age surrounded by her family not being an option that would be open to her. Oh yes, meet the maker she had, but not in the way she had expected, or could ever have dreamed, even with the strange and often confusing glimpses beyond the veil that had occasionally interrupted her life ever since her youth.

Her youth, those formative years spent here, not far from this very spot. It all looked so different now, the open plains that were previously dotted lightly here and there by the occasional willow tree were now encroached upon by other trees and bushes, the mostly untamed valley invaded by the telltale signs of modern agriculture.

How different it had been back in the day, when she would run with gay abandon amongst the hills and dales. Steadfast would be by her side, the wind through their manes as they galloped free, without a single care between them- hearts and legs pounding, the sun bathing their faces with its bountiful grace.

If only she had known, back then, that she would never feel the wind or sun in that way ever again, that her mane would become one with the wind itself, that the sun would become as her skin - as much a part of her being as was her heart or her mind - rather than that majestic, untouchable, enigmatic orb in the sky

Even the touch of the falling rain, an annoyance back in her youth, was something she missed. She missed the chill she had felt as the rains had soaked her to the skin, she missed the times she had stopped to wipe herself dry, or the times another had done it for her. She missed the simple act of brushing out her mane; separating sodden strands, teasing out the knots and tangles, pulling free any leaves or small twigs that she might find.

But now, she was permanently warm to the touch; rain would not soak her skin, always evaporating away before it could gain any hold on her coat. With less than a thought her mane would rearrange itself into any form that she wished, rain and dirt falling straight through the ethereal mass that made up its shape, unable to find purchase in the depths of its incorporeal form.

Those days, those ancient heady days, they were gone now. Long gone, forgotten by all but herself. The ancient village of Lachrymose had long fallen, lost to the passage of years. The willows that had surrounded the small but vibrant settlement were thinning, soon enough the last of them would wither and die. The world had changed around them - year by year, decade by decade - and they had no longer found this valley to their liking.

She was starting to feel the same way.

Time changed, life was transient, this was the way of things... of most things. But not her? Oh, why not her?

She was alone, and would continue to be so. She alone, for the rest of time.

Her sisters were gone; one by her own free will, the other not. It did not matter how, or why, just that they were gone, and she was not.

And now Starswirl was gone, her last true friend. Her last connection to the world gone by, he last reminder of how it had been before it had all fallen down around her... before she had brought it all down around her own hooves.

She should know better, she should be stronger, she should... She was immortal, all these things, all this pain... it was nothing but an illusion, it should mean nothing to her.

But it wasn’t nothing... it was everything; pressing and pushing and pulling at her. And it was getting bigger, and it was getting heavier, and it was stealing more and more of her soul with every passing day.

She was angry, sad, inconsolable, insensible... inconsistent. Her subjects, they did not deserve this... this mess that she had become. They deserved better, they needed better, and she could not give it to them.

Grasping her crown, she lifted it from her head, holding it out in front of her eyes, glaring at it, daring it to take this one last chance to give her the answers, to reveal the trick, the secret, to being what she knew she could no longer be.

But it was just a crown, just a lump of metal. Tarnished gold, dull and lifeless, its skin covered in a sheen of fine scratches brought on by years of neglect and mistreatment. The closer one looked, the more evident that it was that she had not cared for it the way that she should have, that her promises had not been kept.

As the crown, so are the subjects.

She hadn't asked for this crown, or the responsibility that had come with it, but she had taken it, worn it, become it. She had made a vow that she would live up to everything that it stood for.

She had failed.

With a simple flick of her magic the crown soared into the sky, hurtling through the clouds above her, disappearing from view within seconds, with only a sonic boom to mark its passing. Just like that... gone.

Where it would land she didn’t know, nor care

Lifting a single muddy hoof, she reached for the horseshoe she expected to find there, only slightly surprised when it was not to be found. Checking her other three hooves she found just one mud covered piece of metallic apparel still remained. With a flick of her magic that last, lone shoe took to the skies just as the item of headwear had before it.

Crownless and shoeless, she grasped the last piece of her royal vestments - her large golden peytral - from around her neck. As it moved, an acorn fell from where it had been trapped between the chest-plate and her coat. Idly she watched the seed fall to the ground, immediately sticking fast to its impact point in the muddy earth. She’d been vaguely aware that something had been wedged there since - where, the Baltic Marelands maybe? - but hadn’t been bothered enough by it’s presence to remove it.

For a second she considered it- its form, its function; so small, tiny even, but poisonous to the common pony if ingested in large enough quantities. It had bumped against her chest for days now, to the point where she’d become so accustomed to it that she’d forgotten that it was even there, had no longer noticed its presence. But, now it was gone, she felt so much better for it. So strange.

Hefting the peytral, she moved to toss it away as she had its fellows... but she didn’t. It was heavy, substantial, able to do some real damage if it came down on somepony, or something, or someone.

Changing her mind, she let it drop to the ground, the large piece of metal landing on the acorn, squashing it into the mud.

The actual mass of the royal accoutrements had been no burden to a being of her stature and power, but the weight she felt released from her body was indescribable. Heavy may have hung the head that wore the crown, but now that it was gone her head was held high, her eyes to the horizon.

Her choice was made, the path ahead waiting for her first step, liberating in its unfathomable nature.

Terra had been right: the age of alicorns was over. Her sisters were gone, and soon she would join them in their absence. If carrying on as she had been was to forever live with this pain that gnawed at her heart, then she would not stay. If her body was holding her back, then she would not let it.

Though she had started out as a unicorn; glamours and transformations had never been her style, these falling more into her younger sister’s area of expertise. While she had always been more about bowling the opposition over with shock and awe tactics, the use of more... under-hoof strategies - deception, subterfuge, sabotage - had always been Lulu’s area- and even more Nightmare Moon’s, which had made her the most treacherous of enemies.

Even from an early age she had always relied on the fact that a loud and flashy opening attack would often cause the enemy to lose the will to fight. And if they didn’t? Well, a second attack with even more volume and aggression usually sorted out that small problem. Subtlety hadn’t been exactly her strong suit back then, and she’d been more than fine with that.

This wasn’t to say that she had not picked up a few tricks here and there- at her age she could not have done otherwise. But this though? This was so much more than a simple glamour, or even one of the higher level transformations. No, this was something so much bigger, so much more fundamental, so much more... permanent.

Searching deep within her soul, she scoured the depths of her own being for something, somepony, that she had not thought about in years. Finding it - finding her - she pulled, pushed, delving down into herself as far as she could go. She felt the tiniest beat, the weakest of glimmers, as it began to grow and unfold, letting it envelope her as she pushed herself deep within its embrace.

Letting the power from deep within take her over, her vibrant spectral mane and tail faded away, its folds no longer catching the ethereal wind. In its place single-toned stands of dark unfurled, flowing from her crest to fall over her withers. Her wings, stowed against her sides as they had been for days - or even weeks - melted away, merging back into her barrel, the pristine white fur of which darkened to a soft pink, three long-healed parallel scars marring the otherwise unblemished coat.

With the process almost complete, she opened her eyes. Looking down, she found the ground coming closer as she shrank in height, down to the size of a more average grown mare.

Willing her wings to open, she found they were no long there. Pushing magic though her body and down to her hooves, she found the wet, sodden ground beneath no longer responded to her touch. Water ran down her barrel, collecting on the underside before falling to the earth below. The wind picked up all around her, pushing at her wet coat, imparting a chill that she felt all the way to her core.

With this she was Alicorn of the Day no more, Princess no more, Celestia no more. All of that life was to be left behind. Here and now, in this body, in this life, she was just a plain, ordinary, unicorn mare, subject to all that came with it.

Turning away, leaving the expansive view behind her - the unceasing rain plastering her mane against her neck as she picked a direction... any direction - Sunny Skies began her long walk to freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in August
Thirty two years after the banishment of Princess Luna.
Twenty four years since the disappearance of Princess Celestia

Stumbling from step to step, the unicorn moved onwards, one hoof in front of the other. One more step, always one more step.

The sun beat down, mercilessly, relentlessly. The summer had been so hot, hotter than living memory could remember. Not her living memory though- much of her life was a blank, her own history a blur.

The unicorn nobles claimed the sun’s erratic behaviour was only temporary, that they were doing all that they could, that they would have it under control soon enough. But one couldn’t drink words, nor could one water fields with promises.

Ever forwards she stumbled, across parched grass and dusty earth. There was a tree up ahead, still green even in the blistering summer heat. If she could just make it that far...

Forwards she stumbled, hoof before hoof, step after step. Her mane was a mess, her hooves chipped and flaking. She had not eaten in so long now, her muscles weak and tired, her bons stiff and sore.

The tree was close now, a young oak tree, not much taller than a two level cottage. Oak.. she shouldn't, it was poisonous, it would make her ill. But what did it matter, it was better than nothing. Long term health came second to short term survival.

Reaching the tree, staggering into its shade, she lifted her head, lips reaching for the closest leaf. She stumbled, a forehoof catching on an exposed root. Pitching forwards, she fell, directly onto her face. The impact rattled her skull, unconsciousness taking its chance to come for her, its tendrils twisted around her being, pulling her, taking her away.

Consciousness returned in time- gradually, grudgingly. She had no idea how long she had lain there, in the shadows. Colours swam before her eyes, details remaining indistinct, normality stubbornly just out of reach..

Perhaps this was it? Perhaps this was the end? Was this what she had been chasing all these years? She had no idea how long she’d been walking, wandering, never staying anywhere too long, always onwards. She didn’t even remember where she’d been, or why... right now she was just hoping that some pony would come and carry her away to whatever came next.

Ha, she’d not even managed to do that right. Here she still was.

How long... how long had she lain in the dirt, the dry grass tickling her nose with every laboured breath? How long would she continue...

...waiting?

...wanting?

...searching?

...hoping?

A voice, she could hear a voice, she hadn’t heard the voice of another in so long.

A mare’s voice, coming closer, the accent foreign and guttural. The lilt and lift of the words fell oddly on her ears, sounding both course and melodical at the same time.

The voice again; closer, softer, like a mother. She could feel her head being lifted, cool water running over her dry, cracked lips.

A call, louder now, calling to somepony else. Another voice came back, a stallion this time, the same strange accent, both soft and harsh, coming closer.

The words, the language, were the same as hers, just twisted enough that she couldn’t make them out, not in the state she was in. They were... arguing? There was urgency, much back and forth between the two. Back and forth, back and forth. She couldn't tell who was winning, much too tired to make it out, too tired to move.

She passed out again, just for moment.

Sunlight broke through her eyelids, she was being moved.

She felt magic wrapping itself around her body, taking her weight, lifting her from the ground.

She could feel a warm body beneath her, pressure on her ribs as she was settled onto a wide, sturdy back.

Breath was pushed from her lungs with every bounce, her own weight - not that there was much left of it - pushing against her ribs.

They were moving. She knew not where to... she didn’t really care.

She passed out again, and this time for much longer than before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early September.
One hundred and five years after the defeat of Nightmare Moon.
Ninety seven years since the abdication of Princess Celestia.

The tree didn’t look much different than she remembered. It was taller, yes, that was true. A few more branches, also true. A lot more leaves... a whole lot more... so many more.

Okay, so as trees went, it wasn’t much different than she remembered. Trees were trees were trees were trees. She’d leave pointing out the finer differences in their growth to the earth ponies in the herd.

So, this was where they’d found her, so many decades ago.

A mare with no history, no past, no family, nothing to her name but her name. A name and four badly worn hooves. Her hooves had told a tale of travel, and lots of it, their rich but secret history marked out in every one of their cracks and gouges. But they had healed, regrown, evened out over decades that followed.

They’d worked so hard, these hooves; tilling the land, harvesting the crops, raising the foals. But now it was time for these old hooves to travel again. Her herdmates had passed on many years ago. The children of the herd were now all grown up, with children and grandchildren of their own.

Turning, looking back down the hill - she could see way, way out over the fields - she caught sight of the patriarch of the herd. He was such an odd one, that boy- a stallion at the head of large and prosperous herd in a female oriented society? Who’d ever have thought it just a few years ago. But even with his position at the top of the biggest herd around, he was still out there; working the fields, pulling the plough, keeping the farm-holding running. Yes, with Strongblood at the reins, everything would work out for them.

Her eyes leaving the fields, they moved over to the farmhouse, much bigger now than the rickety old wooden structure she’d woken up in back in the day. No, that rustic old log cabin had long gone, supplanted years ago by a modest two level farmhouse made of stone.

She remembered how the herd had worked together to build it, the unicorns with their magic, the earth ponies with their sheer strength. Even the young ones had played their part, running around the adult’s hooves, carrying buckets, relaying messages, bringing food. A real family affair.

Today the young ones were at play; running and jumping, playing hide and seek amongst the crops. Each generation thought they were the first to discover such fun, then growing up to watch their own children run and play just as they had, the new young-uns also thinking that they were the first at everything.

Emerald Reach Farm itself had grown over the years; pushing back the treeline, absorbing the small lake to the east and the rivers that fed into it. The family had grown as well, gladly welcoming new members from nearby herds, sorrowfully parting ways with those who’d boldly set off to make their fortune out in the big wide world. She heard from them and theirs from time to time, passing pegasi occasionally dropping off a letter or parcel, the postal service that had so badly fallen apart back when the three tribes had fractured years ago getting back on its wings as time went by.

Yes, it'd been a good life... what she could remember of it anyway. And what she could remember was all that mattered. It was what made her ‘her’.

She could remember being found, no more aware of her past than her saviors had been. Having nowhere to go they’d asked her to stay, just for a few day at first, just long enough to get back on her hooves.

Days had become weeks, weeks had become months. Her hosts had become friends, friends had become lovers, lovers had become family. More than seventy years had passed since that day, since she’d finally found a place to call home... and she didn’t regret a single second of it.

But now... it was time to go.

She wasn’t getting any younger, that was for certain. Her mane was no longer pink but grey, her coat well on its way to matching it. Her muscles grew weary, her old bones stiff and sore. Her hooves may be itchy, but that had nothing to do with age. She had been called, that was for sure. For weeks now, the road had called to her, as it had when she was young. She had to go.

But where to?

To the south, out through the Baltic Marelands? That was as good a direction as any for her final journey. Yes, that would do nicely.

Word had been filtering up to them from the nearby towns and villages for a while now about how the unicorns were building a new city, somewhere down by the old Canterhorn mines. Maybe she should go check it out? It’d take some time, yes, it would, a journey of that length, travelling by hoof all the way.

But she had time... probably.

It wasn’t as if she’d be late for anything, even if she took the time to meander. Apparently the unicorn nobles were pinning their hopes on this sparkly new city of theirs bringing the some alicorn princess back to them. Some vague prophecy from some fluffy-headed mare had told them that if they built it, she would come. A silly hope, and a huge waste of resources, as far as she was concerned.

If this ‘princess’, whoever she was, even still existed - which she sorely doubted - then she’d walked out on them all a long, long time ago... what kind of princess did that? A useless one, that’s what. No, even if this elusive ‘princess’ did come back, they were better off without her.

But what did she care? Her end was coming, she knew that in her heart. ‘Time and tide waited for no mare’, as it was said, and her final tide was drawing near.

So, it was time for one last journey, one last wander. The road was calling to her, pulling her south. She knew she had to get going- to go where she might go, to see what she might see, to find what she might find... whatever that might be.

Shifting her saddlebags, Sunny Skies set off on her last adventure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 1201 AC
Nine hundred and eighty nine years after the sealing of The Mare In The Moon.
Eight hundred and eighty three years since the return of Princess Celestia.

From beneath a thousand year old oak tree, an even older being surveyed the valley below her.

A lot had changed over the years... but so much had stayed the same. The stately manor house, the largest building here in Emerald Reach, had grown so much over the years. The ancient farm buildings were long gone, swallowed up years ago as the ancestral home of the Duchy of Smaragdvea had grown ever larger and more imposing.

What had once been known just as ‘Top Field’ was now a large, well maintained series of gardens. Trees and bushes, carefully crafted into the shapes of birds and woodland animals, lined the edges of long gravel paths that split great swaths of lawn into quadrants larger than hoofball pitches. Large flower beds were dotted around the grounds, plentifully stocked with vibrant blooms from distant lands sharing space with more domestic breeds, each bed with its own signature colour

For all the pretension and overbearing pomposity of the manor’s late gothic architecture, children still played here, caring not for the gravitas of the manor’s carefully crafted - and expensive - sombre facade.

A pair of stallions, both heading into their teenage years, tossed a hoofball back and forth across one of the grassy quadrants. The blue-maned, white-coated young stallion of the pair was obviously the more athletic of the two, dashing about the grounds like a march hare while his less physically gifted green-maned and pale-blue-coated ‘playmate’ would slouch his way with little effort from here to there whenever he missed his catch.

Far beyond them, a pair of young fillies - a unicorn and an earth pony sporting almost identical colorschemes - played in a flowerbed, a small bucket and spade passed back and forth between them as they dug their way into the dirt over and over again, leaving abandoned hole after abandoned hole all around them. Spying an elderly donkey slowly ambling his way towards them, the two fillies gathered their tools and scampered off towards the safety of the bushes, quickly disappearing into the foliage and out of sight.

Gaze moving across the grounds and back towards the manor, Celestia watched a trio of adults - two mares and a stallion - as they exited from the house and out onto the patio. One of the mares was using her magic to carry a glass filled with ice, topping it up from large bottle of alcohol that bobbed along at her side.

Just as her alicorn vision meant that, even from this great distance, Celestia could easily read the label on the bottle of Leafeater gin as easily as if it was right in front of her, her hearing could also perform a similar trick, making listening in on the trio’s conversation an incredibly simple task if she so wished. She didn't though, as that would just be rude... and from the animated waving of hooves, baring of teeth and flattening of ears, this conversation was obviously a private matter.

As the other mare, the one without a drink, was trying to make some kind of point - one that involved enough volume and hard consonants that Celestia could follow the general gist of it even without alicorn hearing - a young unicorn filly, who must have been all of eight or nine years of age, darted out of the house, weaving her way between the adults’ hooves before shooting off into garden.

Leaving behind the arguing adults, Celestia found her gaze being pulled along by the young unicorn as she ran across the grass, tiny hooves pumping just as fast as they could under the weight of the huge tome that her magic was holding aloft above her head.

Taking shelter under a the languid branches of the estate’s only weeping willow, the filly settled herself down in the shade, making herself - and the small cloth doll that she had been holding tight against the spine of her precious literary cargo - comfortable against the tree’s ancient trunk.

Looking back towards the adults, Celestia could see that argument between the two mares had moved from single-sided to two-sided; the mare with the drink biting back, her retorts as sharp as knives if the reaction of the other mare was to be believed.

These adults were not at all interesting, with their petty squabbles and short term thinking. They were so focused on what they didn’t have, or things that they didn’t like, that they were missing what was going on around them. The youngster under the tree? Much more interesting.

Opening the book, the huge tome almost as wide as she was tall, the filly began to read. Occasionally she’d stop to confer with the tiny doll propped up against her stomach; explaining the words, discussing their meanings.

Celestia’s eyes were pulled back to the three adults, to the filly’s parents, to the cutie marks on their flanks. The two mares - one the filly’s biological dam, the other her true mother; and it hadn’t taken alicorn senses to figure that one out - both sported a trio of stars. Different arrangements, yes, but three stars graced both pairs of flanks.

The cutie marks so similar, the mares so close and yet so distant... it was if they could be sisters. Even the bickering, the disagreements... so much like sisters.

Between their cutie marks, they held six stars, just as ‘the six’ were prophesied to aid in her escape. Even the arrangements were similar, laid out just as those on the ancient scrollworks were- the same six stars that graced the sky each night, the most vocal of her sister’s many supporters. They taunted her each evening, when she came to raise her sister’s prison into the heavens once more, a cruel reminder of everything that she had lost.

Celestia’s eyes were drawn to the mare’s stallion, this young filly’s sire. His own flank sporting not one moon but two- the two crescents facing each other, presenting mirrored faces, just as her sister had two sides, two faces that she presented; one being the brave and loving Princess Luna, the other the evil and corrupt Nightmare Moon.

Finally, the words that Moonbeam the Messenger had left to her, written over and over, so many times in so many journals... they made sense to her now.

As Celestia continued to watch, the child continued to read, tucked away their under her tree. She did nothing special, she said nothing special- but she was special.

This girl, this tiny underdeveloped foal, she was the one, of this Celestia was sure. She didn't know how... she didn’t know why... but she’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

She was the one, the one that the prophecy described, the one that would do what no other could. She would be the force to bridge the gap, to bring balance between the night and the day, to bring the elements together, to bring her sister home.

Between night and day, between day and night... she was the twilight.

Eyes turning back to the parents, Celestia watched them for a moment. The two mares were still arguing, the more... abrasive one dropped a particularly cutting comment, looking very pleased with herself as she waved her drink around. The other, the more passive-aggressive one, she turned to their stallion, obviously looking to him for support.

As for the stallion himself... any other outside observer it would be forgiven for thinking that he was doing nothing, just letting the two mares go at it while just calmly waiting for the outcome. Celestia however had the advantage of both superior eyesight and centuries of experience in pony-watching. She could make out each of his subtle movements, how his body language was affecting both of his mares’ actions in ever-so-subtle ways, how he was defusing the worst of the confrontation before it even happened.

But, even with his own years of experience, there was only so much buffering one lone stallion could provide. He was good, Celestia would give him that, but he wasn’t perfect, and whatever conflict was currently reaching a head down there had obviously been brewing for a long, long time.

Her glass - and bottle - now empty, the more acerbic mare stomped away, back into the house as the remaining mare turned to her stallion, burying her face in his coat as he wrapped a hoof around her neck, holding her close.

This family, the alicorn of the day noted with a sigh, didn’t just have issues... they had issues. From the stallion’s practiced and controlled movements - obviously born from many years of playing peacekeeper to two willful mares - she could tell that there were points of contention at play that had been bubbling away for long enough to have become too deeply entrenched to be resolved anytime soon.

But, perhaps she could help in some way, provide some manner of assistance in relieving their burdens maybe? She should give this prophesied filly a bit of a helping hoof, steer her in the right direction. Yes, there was much she could do, and many ways in which she could go about it. But what would be best?

Life may have been so much easier back in her youth, when most problems could be solved by punching it in the face- but one didn’t rule a nation as long as she had without learning how to make a few plans, or how to pull a few strings, or how to whisper a few words in the correct ears. It may have taken more years that she’d care to count, but it would not be far from the truth to say that subtlety - along with several other less prosaic descriptions - could now be considered her middle name.

So, the first step would be to head back to Canterlot and pay a visit to Headmaster Steady Course. Yes, a few well placed words, strictly off the record of course, that would be a most excellent start. A suggestion here, a comment there, and an invitation from Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns would soon be on its way to this young filly’s household. Perhaps with an offer of scholarship or the possibility of boarding at the castle itself if it would seal the deal.

This young filly, this aptly named Twilight Sparkle... she had quite the destiny calling for her, and Princess Celestia would make sure that she had every possible assistance available to her every step of the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 1229 AC
Seventeen years since the return of Princess Luna.
Three years after the signing of what had become known as ‘The Northern Hive Treaty’.

Children played, as children should. Across the grass they scampered and tumbled, the evening sun throwing a orange glow across everything in sight as the young darted between bushes, wove their way between their parents legs, and generally got up to mischief.

It’s what children did, it’s what they always did. Hopefully that would never change.

Far above it all, seated on her hill, Celestia watched. It’s what she did.

Spread out before her lay the grounds of what was once the location of the unicorn village of Lachrymose. Long after the village had been forgotten, its name lost to history, the land had become the home of Emerald Reach Farm. Before long it too had been swallowed up by the unstoppable march of progress, eventually becoming known just as Emerald Reach, itself just a small part of the Duchy of Smaragdvea.

In just the last few years it had gained yet another new name, one that the alicorn seated high above it hoped would remain for a good few years yet. Now it was becoming known as ‘The Emerald Hive’.

The estate itself hadn’t changed much, the manor house still sporting its overly sombre - or ‘depressing’ as some would describe it - appearance. But now it was in the middle of gaining a new wing, one that the current duchess had been very insistent should be more influenced by the semi-organic sweeps and curves of changeling architecture than the more staid appointments that graced the rest of the grounds.

Above ground, the new wing was quite small, not much more than a decent sized reception building and an equally decently sized function hall nestled just behind it. No, most of the new wing was underground- changelings, even those of a hybrid nature, being more at home in subterranean dwellings than above ground.

From where she sat, Celestia enjoyed the effect that this balmy late summer’s day’s last few rays had as it played across row after row of the expansive windows that lined the manor’s west-facing side. As the brilliant orange of this evening’s sunset spread across the horizon, glass panel after glass panel reflected the sun’s form back out at the world. The green of the gardens took on a slightly surreal glow as it was washed in amber and gold from two directions at once.

When she’d first left this land, so many centuries again now, the valley had looked so different. So different... but so the same. The streams still ran through the middle of the valley, trees still covered the slopes with a few encroaching their way onto the flats, the sun still washed over the entire length of the valley with every sunset

Most of all, the young still played here, as they had so often in the past, even before her own birth. Once it had been just unicorns that had made their home here, then later on ponies from other tribes as well as settlers from distant lands. And now it was the turn of the changelings, both hybrid and traditional in nature, to make their home here, to settle down and raise their young in peace. They’d used the land well. There was hope here now. Hope for a better tomorrow - of long lives and bright futures - something that they hadn’t had just a few years ago.

Darting from between her mother’s legs came the oldest of the hybrid changelings- or ‘ponylings’ as many had taken to calling them. Her mother - Flitter - called out to her, admonishing the filly-ling for employing a touch more ‘rough’ than the ‘rough and tumble’ she was enjoying with her younger cousins really required. After promising her mother that she’d been good, young Songbird leapt back into the fray with no less enthusiasm that she had shown before.

Across the short, well-kept grass the tiny - and first - pony-ling ran, her younger cousins all around her. Songbird, Star Spinner, Meadow Song, Polaris, Melody Maker, Twinkledown, Starbright, and so many more- Celestia knew the names of every one of them, having made a point of being present when each had first been presented to their future queen. They all had long, beautiful lives ahead of them, a future that was theirs for the taking- and Celestia be there to watch over them, for as long as they needed her. This was her promise... her promise and her pleasure.

Raising from her seat amongst the grass, way up on the hill overlooking the manor’s grounds, Celestia stepped out from her customary spot in the shade of the ancient oak tree. For a moment she regarded the tree as if for the first time- its huge reach and sprawling branches, the many exposed roots that snaked their way across the ground, radiating away from its huge trunk. This old tree was ancient, older than every other living thing in the valley... except one. But even the most ancient of trees will eventually come to the end of its life, and soon enough it too would be gone. It was a shame, but that was the way of things.

Off to one side, a short way from the ancient tree’s side, not much more than a dozen body lengths away, something caught the alicorn’s eye, something that had not been present the last time she had been here.

From between the long blades of grass, party covered by fallen leaves, grew a tiny sapling, not much more than a few horn-widths tall. It was tiny, yes, but it was trying. Its fragile stem was pushing its way upwards, a few tiny green buds ready to unfurl and reveal its first few leaves.

On a whim, Celestia closed her eyes, concentrating on her alicorn magic. Pulling forth just the tiniest portion of her own magic, she separated it into its component parts, letting only the earth pony magic make its way down to the ends of her legs. Stepping out of her gilded horseshoes, she luxuriated in the feel of grass and packed earth directly beneath her hooves, letting her magic lazily flow its way out of her body and down into the ground.

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel her magic flowing through the sapling, its stem strengthening, lengthening, reaching up towards the sky. Leaves pushed themselves free of their buds, uncurling, unfurling, being joined by other fresh buds which too unfurled, greeting the world with newly exposed foliage of vibrant green.

By the time Celestia opened her eyes, the previously tiny sapling was as tall as a ten year old foal, the glow of her magic just fading from its leaves. Stepping back into her horseshoes, she spread her wings and, with just a few unhurried beats of their immense span, she was away.

From its home amongst the grasses, the sapling waved in the gentle breeze of her departure, as if bidding a farewell.

At least, until next time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ponies sometimes ask me if I dream.

"Of course I dream", I tell them. "Everypony dreams".

"But what do you dream about?", they will ask.

"The same thing everypony dreams about", I tell them. "I dream about where I have been, where I am going, about those who have travelled by my side, and who will be waiting for me when I get there."

"But you're not going anywhere”, they say, “you’ll always be here, you’re going to live forever.”

But that is not true.

My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone’s. It has taken me so many years, so many of your lifetimes, and at last I know where I am going. Where I... where we have always been going.

Home. The long way around.

H.R.H Princess Celestia Helios Sol-Invictus Equestria.

Alicorn of the Day, Defender of the Realm, Daughter of Equestria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Major spoilers ahead!

Many, many millennia after The Battle of Magic’s End.
Almost one thousand years since Moonfall.

As the dry wind blew across parched lands, little more than long baked foliage and motes of dust moving in the hot air, Celestia sat on her hill - even now she still thought of it as hers - as she had for so long now.

Old eyes gazed across the valley- or at least, what was left of it. Time itself plays the ultimate long game- carving out its changes over decades, centuries, eons even. Rain, wind, heat, frost- all had played their parts. What little grass that remained was brown now, patchy, burnt away; the bare earth beneath exposed to the elements. The valley was desolate, just barely clinging on to life- the rivers and streams were long dry, what few trees had not fallen to old age years before would be joining their fellows soon enough.

Hanging just over the horizon, the dim sun - a pale shell of the celestial body it once was - shone as best it could, bathing the world in perpetual dusk.

Far in the distance the grey curve of the moon could be just made out through the haze, the millions of tonnes of rock laying immobile in its final resting place, never to move from dry, dusty expanse of what was once known as Horseshoe Bay. The few of the sun’s rays that reached it caressed its long lifeless surface, washing it in an unchanging hue of dull yellow, casting indistinct shadows across long untouched craters.

Celestia sat... she sat, and she waited, and she watched. She watched over the land, she watched over the sky, she watched over Equestria. That’s what she did, that’s all she did. For so long now; alone, watching, waiting.

A noise came from behind her, something she had not heard in so many years. The steady, careful beat of hooves upon the ground... and they weren’t hers. Soft, slow, but not unexpected.

So, it was time. And time, like the tide, did not like to wait for any mare.

Neck muscles - stiff from lack of movement - tensed, contracted, old bones moving, skin flexing under silver-white fur. Celestia’s head turned slowly, in no real hurry, as she gave greeting to her companion, a small smile gracing her ancient features after so many years of absence.

“Hello, mother. I knew it would be you.”

Comments

[admkline]

Very touching and very sweet.

[Pvt PartyPooper]

Why make spoilers if it's just part of the story?

Nice to see the changlings matter all wrapped up.

I bet her mom is a total embarasment

[Matrixpony]

I can't quite adequately express how much I love chapters like this, with such rich world building.

[warpd]

Nice to get some Celestia love.

[BigBossAlmighty]

That last part reminded me of this song, in fact I can think of no better song to play than this one:

[pahnazd]

Another chapter of this story, another period of time very well spent.
Enjoyable until the end

Even though the last part was quite depressing, and at the same time makes me impatient to see how exactly it got to that point.

[SpinelStride]

"Aww, you're always so hard to surprise!" said Pinkie Pie.

[Jarimor]

huh, neat.

[The Chronicler]

The element of the oak tree was... mind-boggling. It wasn't until the scene with the changlings that I realized that the oak tree was the same seed that fell out of her regalia at the beginning.

[Fizzy Orange]

...so Celestia is somehow Twilight's distant Ancestor?

Does that mean Luna is courting her great-great-great-great-great-great-greatetc-nephew?

[FanOfMostEverything]

I love this sort of story. The journey of the immortal, with stops along the way in every era. Excellently done.

5478789
Who else would it be?

[Bast]

Loved the ending and the point of view from Celestia.

[Dysons_Fear]

Awesome *wipes tear from eye*

[avidreader07]

I can no longer justify not favoriting this, because there's no longer any question about which list it belongs on.

My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone’s. It has taken me so many years, so many of your lifetimes, and at last I know where I am going. Where I... where we have always been going.

Home. The long way around.

I thought this bit sounded familiar, and then I followed the link, and learned that I was correct about why. It's always nice when that happens.