• Published 14th Jan 2012
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The Price of Grace - Sparkle



As Luna is set to return, Celestia's thoughts go back to the one mistake that sealed their fate.

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The Dream

Chapter 4
The Dream

« ... and then, it all flies into pieces ... »


All our gallant Gala goers
Are sure in for a surprise!
Don’t miss my big event
And share a dance, once, twice!

Gaia frowned as she scanned the invitation card’s backside.

She tossed it aside and let her eyes pass over the two ponies on the ground. Celestia watched her anxiously, and so did the guards that had just emerged from the quarters, perceptibly rendered speechless by the scene in front of them. But for some reason, Gaia looked as calm as ever. There was no particular surprise in her eyes; they sparkled serenely, as usual.

The two ponies on the ground lay stiff as a plank, but they weren’t dead. A slow, rhythmic breathing elevated their chests, then let them sink down again. The lieutenant’s expression was as unfathomable as in his waking life, inscrutable and sly, his thick, black mane spread around his head like a macabre halo. The blonde guard, who had insulted Luna a few days back, looked neutral. The two ponies’ breathing seemed uncannily synchronous. But as Celestia looked on, she did detect a striking difference between the two: the guard’s eyes were visibly flickering underneath his eyelids, as though he was immersed in a vivid, faraway dream, while the lieutenant just lay perfectly motionless save for his breaths, his eyes unmoving, apparently ordinarily knocked out.

In fact, the longer Celestia contemplated the two, the stranger this difference appeared to her. The lieutenant looked mundane, this-worldly, stricken by an ordinary act of violence; but when she looked at the guard, he seemed to be far away, as if his mind were still awake, but in a different world. This discrepancy was highly unsettling. She wondered if anyone else was aware of it.

Stronghooves, however, had barely recognised Gaia’s presence. He was still pacing up and down the corridor, banging his hooves onto the marble as he went. If intentional or not, his violent stomping had long since activated the mechanism on his hooves, and blades were glowing menacingly with the reflections of the corridor’s dim, autonomous illumination.

Behind them, guards were emerging from their quarters and streaming out onto the corridor; they all stopped in their tracks as they took in the scene unfolding in front of them. When Stronghooves saw them, he whirled around and threw them a furiously focused look. “Go search the castle!”, he barked at them. “Whoever did this can’t be far, don’t stand around like this! I want you to scan every last corner of —”


His voice suddenly trailed off, but his mouth was still moving, complete with spit spraying. He looked confused for a moment and stopped his lip movements, but when he understood what had happened, his expression grew all the more furious.

“I am the one in command here, thank you, General,” Gaia said cooly and looked at him. Her horn flashed, and the spell was lifted. The look she gave him seemed to challenge him to talk back now that he had recovered his voice, and he did seem to be on the verge of doing so; but eventually, he contented himself with just glaring at her reproachfully.

“I’m afraid there’s little point in turning the castle upside down in vague hopes of finding somepony you’re certainly not going to find,” she added gently. “That would just be wasting your energy. Whoever we’re looking for, he is certainly over the hills and far away by now.”

For a moment, Stronghooves looked at her with incredulity. “Excuse me?” he growled. “You’re intending to... just let this go? Is that what you’re proposing?”

“I am proposing to get them to the infirmary first of all,” Gaia said calmly.
“And the Gala? What is going to happen to that now?”

“It will still take place,” Gaia said decisively. Celestia looked at her mother in amazement, given her earlier reluctance to host it. “It will take place, if only to send the signal that we’re not intimidated.”


“But what if he’s really gonna strike then,” cautioned Benedict, who seemed unmoved by the fate of his brother-in-arms. “Then you would be responsible for the lives of hundreds of guests.”


“He won't strike,” she said. “If I am reading this card correctly, in his little poem — apart from the fact that it wasn’t a very good poem — he promised us a surprise. It’s hardly a surprise anymore now that he’s announced it, don’t you agree?”

The guards looked at her, but Stronghooves, in his intense, forceful manner, slowly nodded his head in agreement. “So we’re not going to call it off.”

I’m not going to call it off, no.

He looked at Celestia, then back at Gaia. “Still, there are things we need to talk about,” he said in his gravelly voice. “After this, things sure have changed.”


“As you know, I’m always open to your amiable suggestions.”

Stronghooves looked at Benedict, whose black mane made him look more sinister than usual, even though his gaze remained inscrutable. Then, he looked back at Celestia; as though he was trying to decide whom to go after right now. He appeared to feel a certain regret over the missed opportunity. “But my Queen,” he said empathically. “If you are so sure about the perpetrator being gone —” his words oozed his disagreement — “then do I assume correctly that it is your belief Sweetcorn wasn’t responsible for this?”


“Not directly responsible, no.” Her eyes sparkled, as if to challenge him.

“I would very much like for you to lay out your reasoning in this matter. But since I know you don’t like to share—” He was vexed. He looked at her for a while, as though he was waiting for her to elaborate; but when she didn’t, he clucked his tongue impatiently and himself rushed to knee down besides the unconscious lieutenant and started to examine his fur. He narrowed his eyes.

“No signs of violence at first sight,” he said, not particularly touched by his subordinate’s fate. “Seems to have passed out all by himself. No wounds, no swelling, no ... wait a second ...” He stopped feeling the lieutenant’s fur at the back of his neck, cautiously going back and forth again. “There’s a slight bump here... and... “ He reached around and felt the other side. His gaze instantly darkened.

Reacharound,” he said, and for a moment, he looked at his other lieutenant. “That’s an army technique guaranteeing instant knock-out. And only knock-out, nothing else. It’s supposed not to leave traces, but if you know what to look for...”

“So I understand you’re implying that a soldier from my army has been responsible for this?”

“Exactly,” he snapped unwittingly, then did a double-take. “But Sweetcorn wasn’t —”


“He wasn’t in the army, no. Not as far as we know, at least.” She gave him a telling look.

He returned her look for a moment, incredulous, then marched over to the young guard lying next to his lieutenant. Stronghooves matter-of-factly examined the guard’s neck; but he soon shook his head in frustration. “Nothing with him,” he growled. “No marks.”

“Maybe the perpetrator has gained finesse in the meantime.”


“Are you mocking me?”


“Oh, no, not at all, general. I just want to make one thing very clear. None of that has been unintentional, none of this has been coincidental. Sweetcorn does everything with a motive. Yes, he wants to scare us, but that’s just the start of it. What he really wants most of all is to drive us apart. I’ve experienced that firsthand on Canterlot Square.” She sighed. “He’s trying to sow suspicion and distrust here in the castle. I think that should be evident to everyone involved. That’s how he operates. We mustn’t fall for it and turn on each other.” She gave the offending guard an emphatic look.

Stronghooves had apparently barely listened. “Why didn’t he kill them,” he growled, as if taken by sudden inspiration.

“Excuse me?”

“The perpetrator. Why didn’t he kill? Why just knock them unconscious? I find that hard to understand. Why would he have such qualms?”


“I can imagine that you would find it hard to understand why a pony would not kill another.”

Stronghooves shook his head violently. “It makes no sense,” he gnarled. “He killed on Canterlot Square, too. Why wouldn’t he now?”

Gaia said nothing and just looked at him. “Do you have a hypothesis,” she said flatly.

“Not yet,” he conceded with a growl. “But give it time, and I will figure it out. At the very latest when they awake and can tell us about everything that happened.” His gaze darkened and rested on Celestia for a bit, as though he was enlisting her in his very own conspiracy.

“You know, General, I don’t think that is one of our priorities right now.”


“What?” He looked incredulous. “Princess, do you realise the gravity of this situation and how compromising—”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Gaia said and signalled for him to fall silent. She gestured towards the guards. “Now, please, we need to get these poor ponies to the infirmary.”




Celestia stayed behind as the ponies picked up the two victims and made their way towards the infirmary. The few remaining guards exchanged some whispers, then returned to the quarters. Celestia heard Stronghooves continue to plead with Gaia, who didn’t look back at him as she followed the small procession towards the infirmary, her gaze profound and unfathomable as was her wont. Their voices grew quieter and quieter as they went, and soon, all that stayed was the silence of the empty corridors. The bizarre scene that she had just lived through seemed ever more unreal now, as if it had never happened, at least not in this world.

There was a thought that had formed in Celestia’s mind. She did have a hypothesis. The solution to that big riddle. Acier, she thought glumly. He had been very close to the scene of the crime, talking to her mother. He had been in the army, hadn’t he? The parchment was still weighing heavily under her wing, but she could not bring herself to confront him, to denounce him; that was asking too much of her. He was the only friend she had had.

He was the only friend I had,” she muttered to the walls. Or was he?

But of course, the walls didn’t answer.




It was a night unfit for sleep. As it progressed, she found her way into Stronghooves’ quarters. He was awake and sitting hunched over maps on the desk; if out of curiosity or out of a desire for company, she wasn’t too sure. He looked more serious than usually, more determined, but also more tired. His eyes lit on her as she entered.

“Princess.” He nodded shortly, then got back to studying the maps.

“What are you doing?”

For a moment, he seemed unwilling to respond; but then, he thought better of it and turned the page. “I’m studying maps. Generals have to do that sometimes, you know.”
She nodded, and rested glued to the ground, in silence.

“I think his hideout is in the Everfree Forest,” Stronghooves said after a while. “Sweetcorn’s. But that’s just idle speculation.”

“In the Everfree Forest,” Celestia said, surprised. “How do you know?”

“For one, there’s been attacks there time and time again. Almost every night now. It’s not clear what their motives are, but they always seems to target earth ponies who are in some way connected to his cause.”


“But ... why would he attack his own supporters?”


“It makes no sense, no goddamn sense,” Stronghooves growled darkly. “Well, even if he is in the Everfree Forest, it’ll be a waste of time looking for him there. I’ll be the first to admit that.”

“Why?”

“Because the Everfree Forest isn’t like other forests. It’s ... not normal. I know the place. It’s scary.”

Celestia considered these words for a moment. When she had been to the Everfree Forest, she never felt anything out of the ordinary; in fact, to her, it had seemed a perfectly ordinary forest like any other, with the one difference that her and Luna’s castle was being built there. She wondered if its construction was completed by now. In fact, she hadn’t heard about it for a long while, and she hadn’t been there since giving Luna her bistone brooch. That had been almost three years ago. She looked down onto her own chest, where the white brooch remained affixed. Now that she thought about it, these brooches seemed like a rather odd present, and it hadn’t even been her own idea.

“What do you think will happen on Canterlot Square now?” she asked. “What are those ponies going to do about this?”

“About this? They won’t know about this,” he growled. “They won’t know what has happened here in the castle as long as we don’t tell them. Of course, it could very well be that this Sweetcorn wants to toot his own horn and boast about it. Then, that could make the Queen look weak. In any case, the situation remains tense, Princess, and it worsens all the time. That’s why I say we need to act. And I’m telling you — ” his gaze darkened — “I’m just waiting for your mother’s permission, just that one go-ahead, and then we’re going to strike and squash out that tension.” He had dented the table surface with the pressure of his hoof.

“You can’t squash out tension,” Celestia said. “Only dissipate it.”

“Bigger words don’t make it any less of a mission,” he said, his eyes sparkling feverishly. “That guy, this Sweetcorn — he’ll get what's coming to him. And so do the guys who think it clever to support him. They are gonna see just how wrong they are. I can’t stand people who step outside that well-ordered rank and file.”

Celestia drooped her eyes. She had wanted to tell him about Acier. But she just couldn’t. That would have felt like treason.

“Your mother needs to get a grip, you know,” he said after a while of blankly staring at her. “I don’t know what it was that made her think it would be okay to let that guy escape without looking into the matter any further, but it sure doesn’t seem like a particularly smart idea. My apologies, Princess, I sincerely never thought I would hear myself say these words, but — your mother might be losing her grip on reality.” He scowled at his maps. “Well,” he continued, and that twistedly charming smile of his reappeared out of a sudden, “the Gala in one week, that stands. At least I will get to share a dance with you.”

They had been robbed of a moment of intimacy by the attack on the guards, and they both knew it; but Celestia felt relieved by that.

With a last look back, she left his chamber, ejected back out onto the corridor, eventually finding her chamber and falling asleep.

***

And so, the final week took its course. It went by in a trickle. Here was the now, and there, off in the distance, the future; the closer it came, the slower everything seemed to become, like one giant pendulum losing its momentum near its tipping point. It was going to swing back with renewed force soon enough; and Celestia felt certain that that’s what was going to happen at the Gala. Everything seemed to converge towards that one point. And somewhere inside of her, there lay the certainty that on that day, everything would finally come to light.

Celestia spent her days in breathless routine. She got up early, would have breakfast with her mother, who insisted on having her daughter sit next to her, and would then go for a walk on the castle grounds. Her steps invariably felt drawn to the hedged garden; but as she approached, that depressing feeling took hold of her again, and then she would often just spread her wings and fly to feel lightweight and free again. In flight, her thoughts lost their leadenness if only for the smallest of moments, and all that mattered was the soft flow of air around her plumage, that subtle flutter of feathers, and the energising, fresh feeling of being alive, and then, for an instant, everything seemed easy again. But every day, the rain seemed a little denser, and the clouds a little heavier, and soon, thunderstorms took over the skies and cast them in a leaden grey. Then, the weather was simply too unpleasant to leave the castle.

On those days, Celestia remained inside and idled the time away, trying to practise her magic. Her mother had promised to give her personal lessons, but that had never come to pass. Celestia didn’t complain about it, either, she understood that her mother was too busy now, and was glad for every minute she did spend with her. But there was no denying it: the castle as she experienced it missed a presence, and without it, it was dead. Luna’s presence.

When those thoughts came to the forefront of her mind, nostalgic thoughts of her sister that were so joyful in their present and so hurtful in their past, Celestia would give up doing whatever it was she had been busy with. Right now, she just stared out of the library windows into the gloomy autumn rain outside, watching water trickle down the windowpanes. The longer she stared at them, the more the patterns resembled faces, Gaia’s, Luna’s, Acier’s, and, time and time again, Sweetcorn’s wild, mischievous gaze that simply wouldn’t leave her head. And then, there was Stronghooves, smiling at her, a sparkle in his eyes...

She shook her head to chase these phantasms from her mind. At least she needed to stay real.

Reports of new attacks came in everyday. Nopony cared to keep her in the loop, and her mother in particular seemed to actively try and hide anything from her daughter that might be too worrisome. But Celestia still overheard bits and pieces of bad news from talking guards in the corridor and sometimes at breakfast with her mother. Apparently, the attacks did indeed focus on the Everfree Forest. Maybe Stronghooves’ hypothesis had been right. Meanwhile, there were ever more ponies on Canterlot Square, and the tension was mounting.

She looked out of the window. On the lead-grey horizon, a faint crescent moon loomed.

The clock had been wound up. From now on, everything simply felt like waiting, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the day of the Gala, waiting for it all to untangle, this big, big mess they were in.

***

The day before the Gala, Celestia only saw her mother at breakfast, where Gaia had once more explicitly asked for her presence. When she got out, she was alone again as her mother convened with soldiers, only there in body and not in spirit; Gaia’s expression grew ever dreamier and airier.

And the castle felt ever lonelier. After a day spent in the library, in the evening, she finally overcame her feelings of alienation and made her way to the infirmary. The guard and the lieutenant lay still unconscious behind closed curtains, so she saw nothing of them; and so was Luna, but Celestia’s steps found her way automatically. “Hey.”

Luna turned her head. For a moment, everything was silent. Celestia held her breath. Luna seemed so serene that it was entirely possible she hadn’t even noticed her sister. But after a while, Luna fixed Celestia with her eyes.

“You don’t look so good,” Celestia said with concern. “But you’re not sick, are you,” she went on, when Luna didn’t respond. “You’re just a bit down, right?”

Luna dropped her gaze. “I’m not sick,” she said. “I’m not sick.”

“It’s okay.”

“You know, I’ve had a nightmare again,” she said after a while. “Tonight. I have nightmares all the nights. Did you know that?”

“No,” said Celestia slowly. “I’m sorry.”

Luna slowly shook her head, but didn’t say anything else. What was that supposed to mean?

“Luna, you know what’s happened, right? Two guards have been attacked last night, here in the castle. You know that, right? They are here, in the infirmary.”
“I didn’t know,” Luna said after a while. “I just don’t feel well. Not well at all. I —” Her voice trailed off.

Celestia sighed. Her eyes lighted on the nightstand. The daisy in the glass vase had its head hanging down, the borders of its leaves starting to crumple inwards, the green replaced by deep grey. “That’s weird,” she muttered. “I just watered it when I was here yesterday.”

And with a casual gesture, she lifted the flower out of its vase, her horn glowing weakly. The leaves straightened out, the flowerhead turned upwards with renewed strength, and the colour returned to a bright and vernal chartreuse.

She stopped in her tracks for a second as she felt Luna’s gaze on her. The flower hung idly suspended in mid-air. As though it was enclosed in an invisible block of ice, the chilly, pristinely preserved relic of a far-gone time. The image yanked a flashback in front of her inner eye, like a hastily unthawed, frozen memory with water still dripping from its sides; a memory of a younger Luna, a younger herself, and how they had been grounded in the North Tower. And along with it, a yearning stirred in her heart. Back then, Luna had been immensely impressed with the simple feat of Celestia making the daisy blossom; by now, Luna had awakened, and was capable of much more impressive feats.

Much more terrifying feats.

“Luna,” Celestia said earnestly. “The Gala, you know. It’s tomorrow. You will join me there, won’t you?”

But Luna lost herself in her bedsheets.




Outside of the infirmary, Stronghooves stood waiting for her.

“The guards are talking about her, you know,” he affirmed, with more malice than usual. Who knew what had happened in the meantime? “I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but your sister has some serious issues.”

“That’s none of your business,” she said decidedly.

“Well, I think it is. I got enough trouble with your mother, who is behaving somewhat unreasonably as of late. And if your sister has anything to do with any of this — then that is very much a concern of mine.” He eyed her for a moment. “Do you know that your mother hasn’t visited her once? Not once. Even when we accompanied my lieutenant and those guards back to the infirmary, she excused herself shortly before. I do wonder why,” he growled. “You see, if her daughter’s sick, you’d think she’d drop by, would she not?”

Celestia’s face flushed red. “None of your business!”

And, finally unable to control herself, she broke away and ran back towards her chamber, tucked herself in under the sheets, in her bed, that warm, cozy cocoon that was the last safe retreat in this cold, confusing world.

After a while, she drifted off into sleep.

***

“Tia.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re building this castle for us, right?”

“...yeah.”

“But I can’t stay with you here when it’s done. I’ll have to ... run away...”

“Run away?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re my sister. This will be our castle. We’re meant to rule together one day, Loony. That’s certain.”

Celestia looked up and blinked a few times. Everything was fuzzy, bright, unreal. She glanced towards Luna next to her, who all of a sudden seemed frozen in place; still looking towards Celestia, that pleading, inquiring look fixed on her face. Everything was motionless, even the blades of grass they were on were stiff and unmoved by any wind. She pawed at her frozen sister; in vain. Luna was icy cold. So cold that Celestia was afraid she would shatter her into a thousand pieces with the lightest touch. Celestia tried to call her name, but of course, she didn’t answer.

“She can’t hear you,” said an oily voice.

She turned to her other side. Sweetcorn was there, exactly like he looked in real life, his long mane sticking to his face in greasy strands, his red eyes pulsating entrancingly, and he stared at her. She narrowed her eyes; she wasn’t afraid, just suspicious. He grinned at her, baring his large, misshapen teeth maliciously. “Hello, Princess.”

“Why are you in my dreams?”

He smiled slyly. “Oh, don’t act so surprised about that. This isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt about me, is it? Surely, you think about me a lot. That’s only natural. You don’t admit it, but I fascinate you endlessly. I’m just so different. For starters, I’m not as pretty as you are. And I’m slightly more... edgy, right? My greasy, savage mane, my pulsating, wild eyes... dare I say that deep down, you find me exciting?”

“Shut up,” she said and meant it. “Shut up. You’re a murderer. You’re trying to take away from me everything that I love. No, I don’t find you exciting. I hate you.”

“Oh, you finally allow yourself some judgment!” he said and snickered; but it sounded more like a growl. “The last time we met, you were far more intimidated. Seems we’re standing our ground now, aren’t we, princess?” He swept a stray streak from his face. “I admire that new mouth of yours. But you know, Princess, I’m not entirely convinced that your words are really true. I mean, I understand that’s what you have to say, being a princess and all. The official royal narrative: I’m the bad guy, and you’re one of the good gals, right?”

She shook her head and looked away.

“But that’s too simple,” he continued passionlessly. “We’re not all only bad or only good. You know that most of all, don’t you? There’s a whole zoo of different selves inside each and every one of us. Some of them are good, some less good. We have our own battles being fought underneath our skins. Which explains why so many of us are so adept at taking away what we love all by ourselves...”

“Shut up,” she said again, for lack of anything smarter to say. The voice laughed, the joyless, cruel laugh of someone who was perfectly aware that his words were true.

“See, deep down, you know I’m right,” he remarked. “You too have sides you’re very afraid of. You too have fears. And you also have longings. Isn’t that the most normal thing in the world?” He smacked his lips. “That must also be the reason why you’re into that feisty general with the silly name. He has everything your mother lacks... and what you, by extension, lack. Propensity to act without overthinking. Dashing good looks. I kid, I kid,” he said, but didn’t look like it. “A certain knack for brutality, willingness to do what must be done... or everything that can be done. A cruel streak. You admire that, don’t you? Because deep, deep inside, hidden in that secret corner of your soul whose existence you deny even to your own consciousness, you find your Mom so boring. And do I agree! Such a do-no-wrong, holier-than-thou goody two-shoes. So grating. So annoying. Right?” He bared his teeth.

“No,” said Celestia, her voice stifled. “No, that’s not right. My mother is the most —”

“Oh please,” he cut across her. “The most what? Gracious? She was pretty gracious when she spared me from those brutal, brutal guards, right? When I paid y’all a little visit. But she was also pretty stupid. Pretty irresponsible. Isn’t that what you truly think? After all, she could have ended it right then, and nobody would have died on Canterlot Square. Isn’t that right? Isn’t it a little self-righteous to call that grace? Maybe your Mom has chosen the easy path after all.”

Celestia grit her teeth and looked towards the ground. She shook her head. “It’s not true. It’s not true. That’s not what I think.”

He laughed.

“In any case, your mother needs bad guys like me, you see,” he went on. “And you, too. How else would you know that you’re still on the good side? That’s a kind of balance, too. What fun is there in being good when there’s nopony evil to look down upon? Don’t you agree?”

She shook her head. He laughed cruelly.

“Ah, Celestia, don’t deny it. I’ve seen your heart, too, no matter how much you try to close it off. See, that’s just my thing. I can see into ponies’ hearts, meddle with them for a while, and then sting them where it hurts. You understand? That’s a skill. A power of my own, for which I need neither horn nor wings. Just a little insight into equine nature.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I don’t know! This is your dream, after all. I’m just a projection of your subconscious. Although it’s funny how you know this is a dream.”


“I don’t normally dream,” she murmured.

“Oh, yes you do. We all dream. You just don’t remember your dreams in the morning because you deem them unimportant. Too ... trivial. Not ... relevant enough. In that, you are so different from your sister. I bet she remembers all her dreams. — By the way, where exactly are we?”

“The Everfree Forest,” Celestia said quietly and turned around. Sure enough, they were on the enormous clearing in the Everfree Forest where Luna’s and Celestia’s castle was being built. It towered behind them; still unfinished, exactly as it had been on the day that both had sat here on this cliff. She looked towards Luna by her side, still frozen in place, her dark, glassy eyes wide open, Celestia’s own reflection visible in them.

“Interesting. This place must mean something to you, mustn’t it? This whole memory must have made an impression. It sure seems portentous.” He walked a few steps around Celestia, who followed him with his eyes, towards her sister. Very lightly, he patted Luna a few times on the head. Of course, she didn’t react. She still stared towards Celestia.

“Maybe you should listen to your dreams more often,” he said. “They often tell us things about us we don’t even realise when we’re awake. Things sure look different in the night. I hope you remember how you called her Loony. Do you even know what that word even means, in all actuality?”

“In all actuality?”

“It means moonstruck,” he said and smiled drily. His voice had an eerie echo to it. “You see, certain ponies tend to leave their beds at night and go outside, just to stare at the moon. Just like that. A weird attraction to that shiny, silvery orb up there. Some would even call it an addiction. These lunatics just can’t get enough of the moon. Do you understand why anypony would do that?”

“No,” she said honestly.

“I’m not very surprised. You’re not prone to bouts of imagination. Not prone to seeing what does not meet the eye. You don’t see beyond things. Now, you’re prone to perfection and rule-adherence, and that in itself can be much more dangerous than letting yourself go.” He slowly turned his look to Luna. “It is such a pity that you two are growing so distant,” he sighed. “You just don’t understand little Loony. Yes, in a way, I understand her better than you do.”

Celestia jerkily shook her head, but he just smirked. “It mightn’t be such a bad idea for you to try and resemble me some more, you see. I’m ahead of the curve. It really can’t hurt to take a page out of my book.”

She scrunched her nose in disgust. “You mean kill ponies recklessly and manipulate for my own gain?”

“Oh, no, no, no, are you accusing me of egoism? Then you got it all wrong!” he said indignantly. “No, I’m as selfless a pony as they come. That’s where I’m different from your little lovebird there. I have no self-interest. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your power. I don’t even want you — not in that way, Princess, sorry. No, no, all I want is to send a message.”

“A message,” she repeated. Even though she was dreaming, her heart beat furiously in her chest. She felt like she was going to wake up any second now.

He smirked. “Chaos reigns. Would you be so kind as to relay that message to your mom?”


“I’m sure she’s already figured it out,” Celestia said and stared at him, vaguely repulsed.

“I’d be very surprised if she had,” he said. “You see, I realised something a long, long time ago. All these rules, all these values, all these convictions — they are worth nothing in the end. But your mom just doesn’t understand that. See, she thinks that as long as she does the right thing and makes the right decisions at every point along the way, she will arrive at the best possible outcome, and everything will stay calm and harmonious. She subscribes to a no-error philosophy. She models the world as a function of her starry-eyed idealism.

And yet, she couldn’t be more mistaken. She couldn’t be more arrogant. The reality is that if you try to violently keep everything in its place, if you try to pursue harmony for its own sake, if suppress the natural tendencies that drive us all apart, then all the moveable elements in the world just keep penning up energy. Until one day, that energy comes free with a vengeance. And then, it all flies into pieces. You see, all ponies have tendencies. Trying to overcome them will only make them resurface with a vengeance. And that is why there is only one way to live in this world. Without rules. In chaos.

“But you too are trying to fashion the world to suit your ends,” Celestia said defiantly. “You’re treating ponies as toys. You killed these ponies on Canterlot Square, at the Harvest Celebration, just so that you could send your stupid message —”


“There’s one thing you need to understand about our little tête-à-tête on Canterlot Square,” he said cooly. “I didn’t kill a single pony that day. You’re doing wrong by me. You see, all I did is set off a few fireworks — just to celebrate the occasion! But — how could I have known! — ponies got all scared and suddenly started trampling each other to death. The horror.” He moved closer to her ear. “But that’s when all those ponies showed their real face. Yes, when the chips are down, your future subjects will tear each other to pieces. And you, too. No matter what lofty moral standard you see yourself entitled to. They don’t care one bit, no matter how hard you work, no matter how much you sacrifice. They just want to see you bleed. All they need is an idea in their head, and an opportunity. Don’t you remember how my little story went down?”

Celestia looked down. “You’re going to give them that opportunity, aren’t you?” Celestia said quietly.

“Exactly. I am,” he said, weirdly pleased with himself. “I will.”

She shook her head violently. Her thoughts came thick and fast, and she had trouble discerning from one another. His oily voice lulled her in. “The Gala,” she said quickly, trying to keep her thoughts together. “Are you... what are you going to...”


“At the Gala, at the Gala, we’re going to see them all... pretty princesses, and their mother, and a runaway general...

She stepped back. His singing was joyless, deadpan and flatly out of tune, but the smile stayed on his face.

We will think of this day forever, so soon at the GA-LA! At the GA-LA!

“What are you planning to do,” she asked quietly.

“Really? Are you really asking me that?” He snickered. “First of all, plans are for boring ponies. Why would I have a plan when I promised y’all a surprise? No, I’m not fond of plans. I like a little suspense.” He cocked his head. “And then again, Princess, I’m just a figment of your imagination. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen in the real world. I can only tell you what’s happening right here, in your — uh — headworld.”

He smirked and looked around, extending his arms as if he was embracing their surroundings. “Ah, this whole dream of yours is so weird,” he gloated. “How come you’re dreaming about me out of all ponies again?” He smirked. “Oh, I know the truth, little Celestia. Why would you dream about me? Well, who else do you have to dream about? Who else to confide in? Who else to reveal your silly little girl fears to? All of your little neuroses that are too trivial, too childish to voice... how you’re so afraid of the future... how you miss being around your sister... how you feel so confused about everything that’s going on... how you’re sure you’re missing out on something. And then, of course, how scared you are of growing up, how you don’t think you’re good enough to be a queen... and how scared you are of breaking your promise. If you haven’t forgotten about that already.” He looked at Luna and smirked. “Is there anypony else to understand, to comfort you? Anypony?” He approached her. “Does that make you feel so depressed? Does it depress you to know... just how alone you are? I’ll give you a tip to make it all a little bit more bearable. Open your eyes and look around you,” he said. “There’s no sense in sacrificing yourself for something you don’t really want in the first place. These ponies? They don’t care about you. When the chips are down, they are gonna tear you to pieces. Don’t you remember my little story?”

“I do,” Celestia said breathlessly. His words had hit a little too close to home. She looked to her side, where Luna was still frozen in place.

“Just let go of all that,” he whispered. “You care, you lose. It just makes you ... vulnerable. Just give it all up. It’s not worth the hassle in the end, trust me. Like I said, it’s all gonna fly into pieces sooner or later. No matter how hard you try to put your hoof down, nopony will thank you for that. It’s lonely and thankless being up there. It’s much more comfortable down here — at my level.”

“But —”

She flinched. He had grabbed her face firmly in his hooves, a painful sensation even in her dream, and stared her directly in the eyes, only a nose’s length away.

“You think your mommy will protect you, but you’re mistaken,” he whispered. “Mommy isn’t ready to do what needs to be done. But I am. I am so ready to do whatever suits me best. I reject your rules and resent your small world. I’m gonna show you just how arrogant you all are to believe you can keep it together. I’m gonna make you suffer until you let it all crumble down. You got that? I can make you suffer. And you better believe me. That’s my special talent, after all.”

“I thought your special talent... had something to do with corn...” Celestia managed to say.

He stared her down, and a grin appeared on his face. “At the very least, Princess, you have a sense of humour. I like that. I adore that.” He moved closer still. “But this is no laughing matter, Princess. I assure you — if you don’t work with me, I will destroy you.”

He suddenly let go.

“Is he lying next to you, our general,” he said in a low voice. “Right now?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. He walked around her in circles, like a predator closing in on its prey. And indeed, when he spoke, his voice sounded vaguely reptilian; not oily anymore, but hissing, like a dragon’s.

“Better keep it that way. You never know who to trust, you see.”

With these words, he suddenly, without warning, bucked Celestia straight in the abdomen. The pain was searing, blinding, exploding; everything turned white for a split-second, thin black lines criss-crossing through Celestia’s field of vision, and her entire body was agony, bursting at its seams...

And then it was over. She cried out and took a breath so profound that it felt as if she was going to suck up all the air around her. Now that the absolute pain had receded, she realised it had been made up of thousands of smaller, more local pains, that only now were perceptible; they felt like a billion little, well-sharpened needles prodding her brain.

“You’re tough, aren’t you,” Sweetcorn murmured and looked at her with a weird fascination. “Any normal pony would have woken up by now. Maybe you’re not as plain as you think.”

Celestia couldn’t answer. She was panting violently, her face still frozen in painful contortion, her mouth still emitting a soundless scream. Sweetcorn circled in on her, his red eyes suddenly focused and motionless, and flung a hoof around her neck, seemingly effortlessly yanking her up into the air. She felt his breath on the back of her head.

“You’re tough, but you’re not tough enough, little Celestia. You think you have it bad? You think everything is so confusing and noone understands you? I’ll make you have it bad. You think you’re not a kid anymore? Great, then you’re ready to take some real pain,” he continued passionlessly. “And no, not real pain like the one you just felt. Even realer pain. Inner pain. You understand?” He was whispering into her ear now. “Total pain straight from the heart.”

For a reason she couldn’t quite understand, Celestia didn’t struggle; instead, she let her eyelids droop, and the tension leave her muscles. “That’s how your story will end, right?” she said quietly, as coherently as she could. “Total pain.”

“Exactly,” he whispered. “You’re a clever filly. I never said anything different. You learn quickly.”

“Will you tell me the ending,” she said breathlessly. “I want — to know — the ending.”


“Not now. The story isn’t finished yet, you see. In a way... it is still being written.”

He suddenly let go of her and whirled around. He had heard something; and so had Celestia. She perked her ears. Somewhere, from far, far away, music seemed to reach her ears, strange, otherworldly music. She instantly knew that she had heard it before. But where?

“What is it?” she managed to ask.

He looked irritated. “Apparently it’s your song. We all have our songs, don’t we?”

“You too?”

“No,” he conceded. “I just like to mess with other ponies’.”


And shoving her onto the ground, looking behind him, he leapt off into the abyss below, a skewed grimace fixed on his face. When she approached the cliff and looked down, he was gone. Everything was frozen and unmoving, even the blades of grass; almost as if the world surrounding her was nothing but plastic props. She looked at Luna. Luna looked real. She turned her head. The music grew louder, as though it was coming closer, slowly at first, then ever faster.

“What is that?”

A sleek silhouette was visible in the brightly lit sky. The silhouette of ... a bird?

It approached. The music grew louder. The sky ever brighter, blindingly, searingly.

Celestia narrowed her eyes and straightened up.

***

When she awoke, it was still darkest night. The image of an immobile, icy Luna frozen in memory had remained with her; her heart beat furiously, still astir with the intense heat she had felt afterwards.

She got up. It never occurred to her how alone her chamber felt now that her sister wasn’t in it anymore.

Taken by a caprice, without thinking about where she was going, she opened the door into the completely silent corridor. On silent hooves, she made her way down towards the other end; but without realising it, she had sought somepony else. Indeed, a door was open to the right, a thin beam of feeble, polychromatic light spilling out onto the corridor.

With trance-like security, she directed her steps towards the door and tipped it open. Inside, there was Acier, sitting at the low, wooden table. He barely lifted his head when he saw her; apparently, he wasn’t surprised by her appearance. He was drinking from a big stein of beer. That was extremely unusual; after all, Acier claimed not to have drunk for decades.

“Things are different,” he said, as if he had anticipated her question. “Things have changed. That’s why I drink again.” He gave her a weak smile, which she didn’t return.
“You mean they have changed back to... back to the way they once were?”

“In a way,” he said darkly and looked at the table. “But not quite.”

But as she looked at him, he didn’t seem to have changed at all, and she saw in him a companion from her childhood. That was why she didn’t ask the one question she had had on the tip of her tongue and tucked under her wing. That’s why she didn’t ask if it had been him. Not because he would lie anyway; for some reason, she was convinced he would tell her the truth. No, rather because at the same time, looking at him and recognising the same Acier she had always known, she felt his proper answer would be no; but if she had asked them and the real Acier said yes, then she would have preferred to sustain the memory and not have asked at all.

And so she said nothing. He looked at her. She looked back at him, but her gaze was hardening again. Did she really want to deceive herself like that?

“Acier,” she said. “Can it happen that ...” She stopped a moment to consider her question. “Can it happen that, with one and the same pony... you love one part about them, and hate another... as if they were not only one pony on the inside, but two or more?”

“Of course,” he said. “That happens all the time. And sometimes it’s hard to tell those ponies apart. Sometimes it’s hard to tell why we hate somepony so much who would have deserved better. And then again, sometimes it’s hard to tell what exactly we love someone for. Because that’s what love is all about, right? It’s not just the sum of its parts.”

She hesitated for a moment and looked at him; he looked more like his old self than ever, and didn’t seem to have aged by a day; only the dark bags under his eyes had grown heavier.

“And could it be ... that you only love the memory of someone? That you only love the pony they once were, and think you still find it in them, even if that has long since gone?”

She thought of Luna. She didn't want to think of Luna, but she did.

“Yes,” he said slowly, and this time, there was a longing in his voice. “Yes, that can happen. After all, we carry our past selves with us, everywhere, and it can be very hard to untangle the past from the present. Sometimes it seems to us that the two are one and the same. Even when the person has changed. I'm - I'm not sure if you understand what I'm saying.”

She nodded slowly. He shook his head, as if to rouse himself from his own thoughts, then looked up at her. She looked towards the floor.
“Have you ever,” she started, “have you ever broken a promise you made?”

“A promise. A promise to whom?”

“I dunno. Anyone.”


“Well, I have. That happens. Ponies break promises all the time. The easiest to break are the ones you make to yourself.” He nodded towards the glass on his table. “And then, there’s the kind of promise you make to someone else, but they’re too close to you. It feels as though they’re a part of you. That can be very dangerous, ‘cause then, you think you’re only hurting yourself. D’you get what I mean?”

“No,” she said honestly.“

He nodded. “That's as it should be. I honestly hope you never will." He sighed. "Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Because I don’t have anypony else to ask.

“Just... no reason,” she said. Her voice sounded as strange as the day Luna had betrayed them all. “No, no reason.”

There was a moment of silence.

“The day when the guard and the Lieutenant were attacked,” she blurted out suddenly, “you were near the place where it happened, weren’t you? I heard you talking with mom before.”

He looked surprised. For a moment, it looked as though he wasn't going to answer. But he did. “Yes, I was.”

“Then was it you who—”

He gave a deep sigh, and a tired gaze that she had great difficulty interpreting. “Things change, you know, Tia.”

“You’re right,” she said, as he did not budge against her stare. “You’re right, they do change. And don’t call me Tia.”

Why was she protecting him?

You care, you lose.

And then, feeling more lost and alienated than before, she left the room.

She peered out of one the corridor windows. Hadn’t there been another feeling in her dream? Hadn’t it been not only hopeless?

Somewhere far off in the distance, a narrow beam of red stood out against the pitch-black night. The moon's crescent faded into the dawn.

The day of the Gala was there.


To be continued. Next chapter: The Song of the Stars.


Thank you, dear reader, for sticking with this tale. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As things become more and more complex, I'm doing my best to keep it all together. As you can see, the story is nearing its apogee. In fact, the rest of it is already written, and will now be tweaked and adjusted to try and do justice to the sad fate of Celestia and Luna.

Many thanks to RiffraffsElbow (and Mystic!) for helping edit this story!

As always, I am looking forward to your comments and criticisms. Thank you for reading!