Epilogue - "Why?"
Down a wooden hall rang the echo a series of hoofsteps, the steady light of a lamp painted the intricate motifs of the walls and floor with a warm orange-yellow. A frail looking minotaur servant proceeded to the set of majestic doors and rapped on them softly.
The sounds of ruffling could be made from inside the room. With a creak of protest one of the doors opened enough for a white muzzle of a pegasus to poke through. The Royal Guard had seen better days: the coat was frazzled and the guard’s helmet no longer shone in the light, only bearing a faint reflection by the disorderly plumes. The pony’s eyes were still as hard as one came to expect from a Royal Guard in spite of the evident bags underneath them.
“What is it?” he whispered hoarsely. “The Princess is resting.”
The servant, an aging ash-grey minotaur with a cured white beard, curtly bowed his head. “I wish to speak with your liege.” He sneaked a look beyond the threshold; he managed to glimpse an object being magically floated in place. “Is this a bad time?”
The pony was about to respond when a voice from within called to him. The minotaur didn’t manage to make out the words, but guessed its meaning when the stallion turned back to the servant. “You may enter,” he said plainly, opening the door.
The servant offered his thanks and was led in by the guard. It had been several hours when his master had lent the pristine Minoatian Suite to the small Equestrian delegation —if one were kind enough to call it that— and the ponies had already settled in. The common room was the best that Xenodocheíoy’s Luxury Hotels, his master’s chain, had to offer: large and spacious, it was tied together by a tasteful cream rug, with minimalistic yet comfortable furniture contrasting the brightly lit room.
A unicorn guard bore on the guest. Like his companion, his helmet did not sport a sheen even in the presence of the many bright lights of the guest room. The disorderly nature of the guard’s appearance was unbecoming for a member of such an organized force. Antiquated as it might have been, the Equestrian Royal Guards always looked absolutely stunning in their ceremonial armor.
But the servant paid no mind to the gray unicorn: His gaze was on what the pony was flanking.
On the black chaise lounge was a stark white alicorn with a perpetually flowing polychromatic mane and tail, bare of any regalia that one would have had come to expect from this particular alicorn. Her soft magenta eyes, in spite of rumors about her fall from grace, did not look the least bit troubled. Even without her golden tiara or her sandals, Celestia looked no less majestic than when she was regent of Equestria.
A small smile on her lips acknowledged the minotaur’s presence. “Milady.” He bowed deeply. “Are the accommodations to your satisfaction?”
“They are indeed,” she replied in a content tone. “As they have been the last two times that I have been asked that. I assure you, everything that Xenodocheíoy has offered is more than is needed. Please thank him for his generous hospitality.”
The servant maintained his bowed poise. “My master extends his deepest apologies for not being available to accommodate you himself and has told me to inform you”—he brought his eyes level to Celestia’s—“that if there is anything that you wish, just ask.”
Celestia nodded graciously, radiant as always. “As charming as it for Xenodoch to shower me with his warm reception, I suspect that there is an ulterior motive for your presence.”
He bowed again. “Yes, milady,” he piped up, producing a scroll from his person. “I have a letter from a courier: He stated that the message is at least a month old, as he and his companions had difficulty in finding its addressee.” He offered the scroll. “Something about a ‘phantom princess’,” the servant joked.
It earned him a hard stare on the part of the two guards and a quiet chuckle from Celestia. “Yes, I can see why it took some time to find its destination,” she remarked as she gently lifted the letter from the minotaur’s hand. “Thank you very much for the message.”
Another bow: “If there is anything else that you need…”
“Yes, I shall send for you. That will be all, thank you.”
The minotaur rose. “Milady,” he simply said before making for his exit, leaving the Equestrians to their ruminations.
Celestia took in the floating scroll before her, noting that the seal that was commonly used in the Equestrian Mail Service, prior to undoing the seal. The script was immediately familiar to her, a lump forming in her throat. She kept a neutral expression, put aside her worries, and began to read the contents. It was a short read, but the few words provided her a sense of relief. On the one hoof, she had been told that this was bound to happen and had prepared for it, but on the other hoof, she still had concerns as to how it was going to work out.
Setting the letter away, the former regent looked to the unicorn guard. “Go to that servant, Phalanx,” she told him. “Tell him that I require some paper, a quill and ink—I need to write a message.”
The guard gave an affirmative and promptly left the suite. The remaining guard, in spite of his training, showed mild curiousity with a piqued eyebrow. “Forgive my intrusion, ma’am,” he said apologetically. "But who wrote to you?”
Celestia looked to the guard and sighed. She looked upwards with whimsical eyes as she considered the stallion’s query. She had so many doubts in spite of her readiness; she was told that she would be getting this letter. Still, it did not assuage her fears.
“Hopefully,” Celestia murmured quietly, “somepony who is willing to forgive me and still call me a friend.”
The Minoatian sun was scorching hot, which reminded Twilight of the blistering heat back in Appleloosa. One key difference however was that people apparently enjoyed sunbathing in these conditions, a folly idea in her mind. She had to admit that what she had seen of the Minoatian cities and its people had been impressive. She had seen modern skyscrapers that soared high into the clouds and mocked what Equestrian cities like Manehattan had to offer. Not only that, but the mare had noticed an abundance of automated carriages similar to the one that Flim and Flam had showed up in that one time at Sweet Apple Acres. To say that the capital was bustling was an understatement—if someone told her that the population of Taurus was greater than that of Equestria, she concededly would have to assume that they weren’t exaggerating... much.
She did not travel to minotaur territories for the weather or to admire the cities however; Twilight had somepony to meet, and she had many a reservation about the upcoming meetup. But she was already at the hotel that they were going to meet at, and she wasn’t going to turn back now. A grand thing, the hotel reminded Twilight of a large chalet with wings extending out into the chaparral and beaches, a good distance from the capital city of Taurus. As memory served, she would find the person she was looking for in the restaurant overlooking the Mareterranean.
Her first impressions of the interior involved Twilight being surprised as to how luxurious the establishment was, comparable to the rich Canterlot Royal Palace, but specifically built for tourists. It was beautiful, but she thought that it was a different sort of ‘beautiful’, the aesthetics were definitely different to what she was used to. To think that she was in a place like this... it did not bode well for Twilight.
She made her way to the restaurant (which was relatively vacant of eating customers, what with it being a work day) and spotted a table shadowed by a hanging terrace outside. Her pace crawled to a slow walk as she approached the table for three, with the seat facing her already with an occupant: Celestia.
The sight of that billowing hair almost spilled a sleuth of emotions: fear, anger, surprise, and, most of all, anxiety. Twilight had rarely seen Celestia without her tiara, and seeing her as bare as she was almost seemed... well, wrong.
Still, the conspicuous lack of Celestia’s regalia did not detract her natural beauty and grace—if anything, she looked all the more graceful, and the shadow provided by the vines of the terrace added an element of mystery. She was busy with sipping from a cup when Twilight was upon her.
A quick glimpse at her former mentor’s unreadable visage made Twilight gulp; what was her reaction going to be? In the letter that she sent as a reply she sounded reasonable, even eager at the prospect of seeing her old protégé again. Why? What did she have in store for her?
Upon noticing the new arrival, Celestia beamed warmly.
“Hello, Twilight.”
“Hello... Celestia.” It had taken a noticeable amount of effort for Twilight to drop the defunct title.
Celestia gestured with her wing. “Do take a seat,” she said, her smile almost disarming.
Twilight had to stifle a scoff: She’s doing it again! This was the exact same demeanor that she had when she had been exposed all those months ago. It was infuriating!
She did not, however, miss a beat and bearing it with a forced grin, she settled down on the chair comfortably. The two alicorns locked into each other, neither one willing to break eye contact first. An awkward silence befell upon the table, as Celestia and Twilight bore each other down, daring the other to make the first move.
“Something to drink, miss?”
Twilight blinked, startled to see that a dark brown minotaur in a bowtie by her side, waiting for her order, had broken the silence. These minotaurs were not one to leave a customer hanging.
“I, ah… some water will do,” she said, not really wanting to deal with the waiter.
“Very good miss,” he said, jotting down the order on his pad. The waiter turned to Celestia. “Anything else for you, ma’am?”
“Some more tea would hit the spot, thank you.”
“Alright ladies,”—the waiter gave his best smile—“I’ll be back with your orders soon.” And with that, the minotaur left the two mares alone once more.
Celestia capitalized on the moment and piped up. “So, Twilight, how are things back home?”
Twilight stared back with narrowed eyes. She honestly believed that it would be that easy? As if their confrontation had never occurred? It was so... so maddening. It was a wonder how she hadn’t burst out in anger already.
Celestia caught wind of the her distress. “Is something wrong, Twilight?” Her tone sounded worried.
Twilight couldn’t hold it in anymore. Managing to keep her voice regulated, she breathed deeply before beginning.
“Why?”
A long pause passed by. Celestia stood nearly stock-still in response to Twilight’s hard stare. With no sign of an interjection on the former’s part, she went on.
“Just...”—she shook her head lightly in disbelief—“why didn’t you put up a fight? Why”—she grimaced slightly—“didn’t you deny everything? I mean, it was my word against yours, it could have gone both ways.”
The older alicorn seemed to take a moment to mull over Twilight's words, and in that inscrutable face of hers. Oh how Twilight hated that face.
“It would have been pointless,” Celestia finally said in a soft voice. “Seeing how it was not just your word.”
This confused her for a moment, wondering who Celestia might have been referring to—she and Twilight were the only ones who had spoken in that showdown all those months ago. Luna had promised her support, but it proved unnecessary and hadn’t said a word back then. But that meant—
“Princess Luna?” Twilight asked, nonplussed.
“It makes sense,” Celestia stated simply, taking a sip from her cup. “My sister has both an admiration for what I had achieved and”—she turned her eyes straight into Twilight’s—“a fear for it.
“Luna’s mettle had never been the same ever since she came back,” she said, “she used to be so strong, so independent and so brave before she was taken by the Nightmare.” Celestia's head drooped and her eyes closed. “I did everything to bring my sister back to me safely, but she grew fearful of me. I cannot say if it was the Nightmare that convinced her of that before being purged, but despite my good intentions, she still fears me.”
“But still,” Twilight piped up, “you could’ve said something. You made it too...”—she waved her hoof as she searched for the right word—“...easy. And I know that you’re not one to make things easy.”
A smile returned to Celestia’s face. “That I do.”
She’s doing it again! “So why did you just leave like that?” Twilight asked. “You made it almost seem like... ah, like it was...”
“Planned?” Celestia offered, the corner of her lips reaching higher up her cheeks.
Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That’s exactly—” She stopped; how could Celestia have guessed? As for the alicorn before her, her smile only grew.
“Y–you—” Twilight stuttered, “you actually wanted for this to happen?”
“I had planned for that to happen, yes.”
Twilight goggled at the larger in complete and utter disbelief. Her flabbergasted expression was a polar opposite to the pleasantly content visage of Celestia. She lifted the teapot and a basket of dry biscuits. “Tea? Biscuits?” she asked. “Minoat biscuits are nothing to write home about, but their tea does wonders on the nerves.”
Part of Twilight was tempted to take on the offer, but she still was trying to figure out the implications of what Celestia had just said. Her inner thoughts were interrupted by the timely arrival of their waiter with a tray of drinks. He carefully served the glass of water and placed a full teapot, taking the empty container with him. The two guests voiced their thanks (Twilight mumbled more than voiced), and were left alone once more.
Celestia filled her cup with more tea while Twilight sipped at her glass, not so much because she was thirsty, but because she hadn’t yet come up with an adequate response. Even after setting down her water, she still hadn’t been able to find the appropriate words. The lack of a response did not go unnoticed by Celestia.
“So,” she said slowly, her small smile unwavering, “how are things back home?”
Twilight struggled for words, incoherent sounds being the only thing that she managed. There was no way around this she realized. A weighty sigh later, she simmered back on her seat to recount the year’s events that had occurred in Equestria.
“Where to begin?” she wondered, thinking over what had happened. “You remember that a referendum was held after you left?” Celestia nodded. “Ponies were split over who should take over from you; people were mostly unsure about your sister and the prospect of her continuing where you left off. There was one thing that everyone was sure of:” Twilight said. “Nopony wanted the senate that the nobleponies formed.”
With no interjection or visible response from Celestia Twilight continued. “The senate was...”—she shrugged—“well, pretty upset about the results. One of the members, Gilded Cage, he actually initiated a plot along with other nobles to try to seize power for themselves and install the senate.” She tapped on the table, revisiting her memories. “Did you know that of all ponies it was Blueblood who foiled the plot? Were it not for him, we might have seen an uprising.”
“Did he now?” Celestia asked in between her sips. “Well, to be fair, he was always something of a traditionalist. And I doubt that Blueblood would have one of his aunts removed when he needs his aunts for his”—her smile turned mischievous—“antics.”
“Antics?” Twilight asked before realizing what Celestia meant. She made a disgusted noise. “That pig!”
“Some ponies will never change,” Celestia said, chuckling softly. “What happened to Gilded Cage?”
“He was arrested, along with his co-conspirators.” Twilight gulped down some of her water. “The trials have just begun, and it doesn’t look good for any one of them.”
Celestia made a thoughtful noise, but said nothing else, her soft eyes requesting Twilight silently to continue.
“So Princess Luna’s interim government is still running things,” she said. “And in spite of things being stable, I noticed that ponies are— seem... different.”
Celetia's brow creased. “What do you mean by that?”
“What I mean is that ponies seem to be...”—Twilight shook her head—“...lost. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
Celestia said nothing. She closed her eyes in silent contemplation as she finished her cup of tea, not making a sound. Once she set the cup down, she looked to Twilight with knowing eyes. She knows something about that, Twilight, a voice in the young mare suspected.
“But you planned for that, didn’t you?” she accused, her voice adopting an edge. She brushed her forelock with a frustrated groan. “I just want to know: Why did you abdicate just like that if you knew that this would happen? Don’t you care about their happiness? With you gone, you made so many ponies unhappy.”
Celestia’s smile fell, only for a sad grin to take its place. “I do,” she answered, casting her gaze out towards the Mareterranean. “But it needed to be done.”
She craned her head back, observing the movement of some clouds. Twilight had noticed that the weather here didn’t seem to be regulated like it was in Equestria, and had wondered how often the lack of control hindered life in Minoat, as well as the other non-pegasi controlled lands.
Celestia interrupted that tangent thought. “See those clouds up there, Twilight?” she asked. “When left unfretted they drift wherever the winds carry them, and they can travel thousands of miles, accumulating in size and numbers. Often they just smidgen the blue sky with strokes of wispy white.” Her eyes flicked back to Twilight. “Sometimes they grow dark and make it rain. Sometimes they even cause terrible storms capable of incredible destruction.
“But all clouds have one thing in common: they cease to be.”
Twilight felt a lecture coming from her old mentor—openings like that only meant one thing: a monologue.
“Clouds fade away just as easily as mountains in time. Time”—Celestia lifted a biscuit, only to crush it in her magical grip—“is unstoppable; a terrifying thing when one stops to think about it.”
She sighed. “And while I may have the blessing of longevity, I do not see it as such, as I too am at the mercy of time.” She raised a hoof to her muzzle. “I might not look a day over thirty, but I have changed since then, and not all for the better,” Celestia said with a long face.
“I am a widower, Twilight,” she said with a twinge of sadness. “I too had the same desires and affections for another as your sister-in-law has. But where she may still live with your brother and remain together until old age, I remained”—Celestia’s lips twitched downwards—“young, while my lovers passed on as everypony does in the end.”
Twilight didn’t know what to say. “I–I’m so sorry, Celestia. That must’ve been difficult.” Her ears perked up. “Wait, did you say ‘lovers’, as in plural?”
A lopsided smile crept up on Celestia’s features. “I am well over a thousand years old,” she said. “I have fallen in love with many a stallion in my heydays.”
An image of Celestia being surrounded by stallions sprung into Twilight’s mind. Her cheeks burned furiously as she dispelled the naughty thought. Celestia didn’t seem to notice the odd coloration on the young one’s face.
“You can imagine what consequences come with my ageless nature,” Celestia said, her scowl returning. “Everypony who I’ve come to call a friend or love have long since passed on, with the exception of Luna.” She brought her cup of steaming tea to her muzzle. “But even my own sweet Luna...” A pained took hold of Celestia’s face, scrunching her eyes shut. “You know what happened to my sister.”
The vapors of the tea swirled with magical purpose, taking the vague yet familiar form of a helmeted mare with serpentine eyes. Twilight didn’t need to be reminded who Celestia was referring to.
“Few creatures in this world have known loneliness as I have,” she continued, sipping her tea. “It is a horrible thing to be alone, Twilight. And there was a time when it was a punishment that I doled out—only twice, but I fully regret doing so.”
“You mean Discord and...?” Twilight let her question hang.
There was no response from Celestia, her silence being all that Twilight needed to understand the implication.
“I do not consider myself truly just, or above being erroneous.” Celestia’s eyes lit up. “And while I may have learned much during my lifespan, there was a time when I was naïve enough to enforce my concept of right and wrong.” She shifted slightly in her seat. “My sister and I came not long after the unification of the Three Tribes, so I knew of the conflict and animosity that was present between the races. I wished for an Equestria that would not dwell on hatred of others or on warfare, so we got rid of the racial caste system that was still in place, making everypony, pegasus, unicorn and earth pony, equal.”
Twilight had half a mind to ask Celestia what was so wrong of emancipating fellow ponies, but she did not interrupt her.
“Then Discord appeared.” Celestia’s expression darkened, a hint of anger flashing briefly in her purple eyes. “My sister and I... we were so young—we didn’t think things through when we spoke to him. We assumed that he was evil by nature, and we didn’t—”
“But Discord was evil!” Twilight interrupted. “When he escaped his imprisonment, he wanted to ruin Equestria!”
“That’s... not exactly true,” Celestia said slowly with a shifty look about her. “He wished for revenge on me and my sister. We both jumped to a false conclusion which only created an unfortunate misunderstanding.”
She shook her head briskly, quelling her quivering lips. “I believed that change, changing the norm, the status quo, was the root of all evil, and so I made a vow to stem change as much as I could. I always thought that change would bring risk and with that risk there would have been new opportunities for evil to take hold.
“It’s with a heavy heart that I say that I only realized how folly that thinking was after banishing my sister to the moon.”
Twilight’s brow piqued. “How so?”
“In my attempt to keep things as they were, I neglected Luna’s stance over things,” Celestia explained. “I thought that I could convince her that things were fine as they were.” Her head drooped. “Because of my failure to take things into consideration, I lost a sister for a thousand years, and I forced her out of Equestria for so long. She is a fish out of water and not seen in a good light because of me.”
She let out a long sigh, her face the epitome of regret, an unfamiliar look considering who it was. “Ponies’ ideas of my being, as well as my own judgment calls, have put Equestria in a difficult spot.”
“What do you mean?”
Celestia’s gaze flickered to meet Twilight’s. “It doesn’t want to get on with the times, pure and simple.”
It took a moment for Twilight to realize what Celestia’s implications were, to which she shot a confused look. “But... you mean technologically? But we’ve—”
Her words died as memories of a year-old discussion resurfaced: I mean, for goodness’ sake, your kind has not made much progress beyond airships and chariots for air travel! a familiar voice in her head complained. Could it have actually been...?
“We haven’t, Twilight,” Celestia replied, her face passive. “Or at least, not while I was still princess. And I’ll explain why.
“With my longevity and natural prowess, it is understandable for one to forget that I am not some sort of deity. I have protected Equestria and its people for centuries and ponies are quick to assume that I am their infallible guardian, always prepared and always willing.” She set her cup down, a curious expression plastered on her face. “As such, even when presented with opportunities to move ahead they refuse because they think that I am the ace in the hole for any given situation.”
“But,” Twilight interjected, shaking her head, “we all saw what happened when you dueled with Chrysalis! You lost to her!”
“And yet many still thought me as a goddess regardless of what happened during that debacle,” Celestia said. “Even after that, ponies would rather stay put and not progress because they fancied themselves as superior to others.”
Twilight pouted pensively, not able to recollect any particular moments that implied what she was saying. But then she began to remember some incidents with other species, Zecora being a prime example. If Equestrians were sure in their racial superiority, then episodes like the fear of an unknown zebra, the mistrust between the Appleloosans and the Buffalo Tribes did make some sense.
“But I wrote to you about how we improved ponies’ attitudes towards others,” Twilight said. “My friends and I helped secure peace between the Buffalo Tribes and the Appleloosans as well as make Zecora welcome to Ponyville!”
The arched brow on Celestia’s face told her that she remained unconvinced. “True,” Celestia admitted, “you managed to convince a group of ponies numbering just over a hundred to tolerate the presence of one zebra, and an even smaller group to learn to share land with the local populace.” Her eyes were hard but not unkind. “It is still a feat for you and your friends to have managed it, but Appleloosa and Ponyville are not all of Equestria, dear.”
Celestia looked to the Mareterranean once more. “Your intervention, while helpful, wouldn’t be enough to change ponies’ way of thinking quickly enough.” Her eyes fell on her old pupil. “Even if I told my subjects to be more open-minded, they wouldn’t do it. At least, the big business ponies didn’t listen to me when I offered them the choice.”
“Wait, wait,” Twilight piped up, “what’s this about business ponies?”
“Simple economics, Twilight.” Celestia beamed. “When there are multiple nations bordering each other, what should they do to work towards greater economic and social stability?”
“Economic integration,” Twilight answered automatically, recalling what she had learned when she had dabbled in macroeconomics. “Failing that, then either a common market or a preferential trade agreement at the very least.”
Celestia’s smile grew at the quick and comprehensive answer. “Very good, Twilight. Can you name me Equestria’s trading partners?”
“The Cry—” She stopped herself, realizing that the former protectorate had yet to establish any trading agreement with the new government. Twilight mused over the list that had been instilled in her from her studies: “The CSZ, Häukland, Minoat, and Saddle Arabia.”
Celestia nodded. “Would you believe me if I told you that they only began trading with Equestria due to my own initiative, and not that of our own entrepreneurs?”
Part of Twilight wanted to say no outright. “Of course I would.”
“Now, would you believe me if I told you that this was only achieved out of decades of insistence from my part?”
Twilight was about to answer that she would, but then the ‘decades’ bit sunk in. “Decades?” she parroted, her voice almost breaking.
“Decades,” Celestia repeated with a straight face, nodding an affirmative. “It was almost two centuries before the first trade agreement was finalized, and that was only with the Saddle Arabians, as they are ponies. For the other races they came a few decades afterwards.”
Twilight blinked: she couldn’t believe that ponies would lack the common sense to see that formalizing trade would be an immense boon towards the development of Equestria. She had already thought that ponies were quite close-minded, but this... this was on an entirely different scale!
A fleeting suspicion crept up in her mind. “You, ah, never told me,” she said slowly, still trying to piece things together. “What exactly was the occasion when those delegates from Saddle Arabia came?”
Celestia put on her most innocent mask. “It was for the signing of the new free trade agreement between Equestria and Saddle Arabia.” She inclined her head forwards. “That was the first improvement in Equestrian trading relations since pony shops allowed Gryphon goods to be sold from them centuries back.”
Twilight gulped. “And I don’t suppose that it was because of a lack of support from the Saddle Arabians, right?”
Celestia almost snorted. “Saddle Arabia had been willing to set up a trading bloc with us for years,” she said with a note of frustration in her voice. “It was the Equestrians who didn’t want it; it’s always been the Equestrians who weren’t willing. The only reason that they relented that time was because of an easing of the terms from the Arabians.”
“But,” Twilight interrupted, “this is all about economics. What does this have to do with Equestria being technologically backwards?”
Celestia finished her cup of tea. “It all goes back to my former subjects’ perception of me,” she explained. “Apparently, from their point of view, my capacity to protect Equestria from any and all threats meant that besides dawdling in the areas of technology and the economy”—she looked to Twilight—“they could, for one reason or another, refuse help from the outside.”
“That’s…!”
“Naïve, foolish and imprudent?” Celestia offered, in sync with her thinking. “It is, but can you blame them? I’ve done Equestria right for centuries, and as such ponies trusted me to keep them safe.”
The young alicorn found herself agreeing with the reasoning, in spite of the voice in her reminding her that Celestia had deceived her before. But a question rose in her. “But that wasn’t the case for everypony, was it?”
Celestia kept an impassive face. Taking that as a cue, Twilight continued. “The nobleponies, at least Gilded and his kind, didn’t seem to hold you in high regards. Why else would they try to seize power with you gone?”
“Disillusioned ponies with too much money and time on their hooves,” the Pony of the Sun answered with a regretful sigh. “I’d like to think that all ponies are contributing members of society with the interest of their fellows at heart, but that would be a poor lie.” Her violet eyes were brimming with remorse. “Promises of power are irresistible to those with the resources, and those who find power so alluring often have dark motives.”
Twilight was reminded of the tale of Sombra. Absolute power…
“So you knew that the nobleponies would try to dethrone you if you had stayed?”
“Of course,” Celestia said with a huff. “I also knew that Luna would be the public’s safeguard from their greed. I didn’t need Reason to tell me that.”
Twilight’s eyes shot open, her ears swiveled to attention, and her tail froze. “Reason was in on this?”
“Of course,” came the reply. However, much to Twilight’s wonder, it hadn’t come from the mare in front of her, but by the now-filled seat by the side.
A smile could be found on the man’s face. “Morning, Twilight,” Reason greeted. He turned to Celestia and —the hay?!— pecked her on both cheeks. “How have the minotaurs been treating you, Celestia?”
She returned the smile with one of her own. “Lavishly, just like in Häukland.” Done with their greetings, the two turned to find a bewildered mare staring, agape.
“I think that we may have broken her,” Reason whispered playfully to Celestia.
Twilight was at a complete loss for words. At her every attempt to talk her mind drew a blank, completely aghast at not only the unsolicited appearance of Reason, but the two’s... relationship.
Her cheeks were aflame.“Y-you two, ah, are, um…?” Twilight tapped her two front hooves in the hope that the meaning came across without having to say it.
At first both Reason and Celestia didn‘t catch her meaning, trading their puzzled expressions. Then Celestia brought a hoof to stifle her laughter into a giggle while Reason limited himself to a cocked eyebrow and a mischievous grin. “Oh, dear.” She chuckled, recovering her composure. “Giving a peck on the cheeks is how humans greeted their familiars or friends. To think that you believed that Reason and I were engaged…”
“I wouldn’t be too dismissive of that,” Reason interjected, his tone and face curiously level. “You might never know: I could actually hold you very close to my heart and want a tighter bond with you.”
The air suddenly felt very still as Reason stared deep into Celestia’s eyes, the alicorn herself looking back with slightly parted jaws. For a long moment, neither one of them so much as blinked. Then Reason waggled his eyebrows sardonically, unleashing a roaring laugh from her.
“Oh, you had me going there.” She said in between her sniffles of dying laughter.
“I had me going for a second as well,” Reason said with a slight tone of surprise. “I don’t think an engagement between a statue and an alicorn would work; that would be just silly.”
Twilight kept gaping at the scene, feeling it surreal and, well, incredibly awkward. The red in her cheeks finally turning to her coat’s natural color, she loudly cleared her throat in an over the top manner to get the attention of the two before her. “Can somepony please explain to me what’s going on? And why you”—she pointed to Reason—“haven’t shown up after that night? I was having second thoughts about you and what you told me!”
The atmosphere turned sober once more, and the last vestiges of chuckling ebbed away. Celestia deadpanned, reverting to her usual passive face. Reason, on the other hoof, chewed on his lower lip and was having trouble making direct eye contact with Twilight. He leaned towards Celestia. “Shall I, or do you want to?” he murmured.
“I think that I’ve said enough—Twilight’s looking to you for answers,” she said.
All eyes on Reason, he nodded and turned to a fuming Twilight. “Cat’s out of the bag now, huh?” he quipped. “I suppose that it’s best that I start from the beginning then.”
He sat up straight on his seat, resting his elbows on the table, hands interlocked. “This whole thing didn’t start with the changeling attack,” Reason said. “You have to realize that Celestia’s been trying for years: Decades even.”
“She already told me this.” Twilight huffed with a wave of a hoof.
“But she hasn’t told you how I came up with the idea that would eventually lead up to my talk with you,” said Reason. “Ever since Celestia’s laid eyes on you for the first time she knew that you would have been key to Equestria’s future. She sensed greatness in you right then and there, when you were just a filly.”
Twilight’s ear flicked. Something about what he had just told her bothered her. She dismissed the thought to the back of her mind while Reason went on.
“Celestia shared with me her plan to have herself ousted, where you would have been the key to not only achieving that, but”—he gestured, indicating around the trio—“to help Equestria along in the aftermath.”
It then clicked in Twilight: that previous thought resurged as a year-old memory. “To make me princess? But you were against it.”
Reason paused, biting his lip. He looked to Celestia for support—she shook her head, encouraging him on. He sighed, before turning back to the mare in front. “I... well, I wasn’t onboard with Celly’s decision to make you into an alicorn.”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “But?” she prompted, knowing that there was more to this.
“But, I was never against the idea of you being a possible leader.”
Looking back on it, Twilight had to, begrudgingly, admit that that had been the case. She still had her doubts about that, but kept them to herself.
The human leaned closer, placing a hand on Twilight’s hoof, his eyes staring through hers. “Celestia never meant to use you, ever. But she realized that you were an instrument for change, and to that effect, she knew that it meant risking losing you, her faithful student—her friend.”
Twilight shook her head. “Why me?”
Reason hesitated, looking once more to Celestia. “Of all ponies, you are the one I could think who changed the most,” she explained with a smile, intervening for Reason. “Do you remember how you were before Ponyville?” she asked. “Just over two years ago, the concept of friendship was foreign to you. You believed that you didn’t need it. You had me, and for you, that was enough.”
“Even then, you defied her,” Reason said. “Maybe not directly, but you protested. You felt that the task was unimportant, and you openly questioned her judgement.”
“Your inquisitive nature was exactly why I entrusted you with the lessons of friendship.” Celestia sipped on the last of her tea. “I knew that you would embrace your own lessons, and that they would help Reason convince you to speaking out and calling me out. This”—she set down her cup—“is what made me believe that you would have what it takes to help Equestria, right when it needs help the most.”
Twilight listened carefully, recalling to her times as a secluded bookworm in Canterlot, who preferred staying inside the Royal Library or in Celestia’s study during their one-on-ones. She hadn’t paid it much heed when she was younger, but looking back on it…
Celestia had always been there: Around the corner; by the blackboard; looking over her work; even in her room a few times. She had been Twilight's go-to for almost any situation that nopony could resolve. She could always rely on the Princess.
I fell into the same trap as everypony else, Twilight realized. She had thought that Celestia could do no wrong once, just like everyone else. She, at the time, was no better than everyone else, thinking that Celestia was the proverbial ace in the hole.
However, something still bothered the young mare, as another doubt itched her mind. “But, Reason, what about everything you’ve said about—”
Her realization felt like a slap to Twilight’s muzzle, as she did her best to keep the shock from showing. “So… you lied to me?”
Reason hesitated, gauging Twilight's face. “I… exaggerated.”
“Then how can I trust you!?” Twilight blurted. “How can we trust you? You told me half-truths and disappeared on me, making me think that the whole conversation was a dream!” She seethed, gesticulating wildly. “And I know that Luna’s been consulting you. She denies it, but I know it.”
Not too surprisingly, Reason didn’t reel back from the verbal assault. A small part of Twilight’s mind remembered that the two had probably expected such an outburst from the pony. Still, the slight frown on his face told her that it still hurt.
“Trust him because he cares, Twilight,” Celestia said, her violet eyes pleading. “His idea for change was all his, but even then, he disapproved how I was to apply it. He found it too”—her eyes darkened—“cold.”
Reason appeared stiff, his furrowed brow accompanying his frown, saying nothing. He then closed his eyes, and with a slow sigh, his shoulders sagged at the pace of the breath. “It was deceitful, Celestia,” Reason added. “I still feel that we could have done without the dishonesty. No, I feel that we could have done better without the dishonesty.”
Celestia, Twilight noted, sagged as well, a mournful look on her face. “Reason, we talked about this.”
“I know,” he softly replied, his gaze cast downwards. “Even after all this time, it still bothers me.”
A somber silence encompassed between the alicorn and the man, penetrated only by the crashing waves in the distance. Twilight realized why Celestia had gotten snagged on Reason’s earlier joke—these two were very old beings. She could not imagine how long they had shared such a relationship. It was far beyond anything Twilight ever had with her old teacher.
The two were more than friends.
She said nothing, feeling that any words here would be squandered. She allowed several moments to pass, before she cleared her throat, not in the over the top manner as she did before, to steer the discussion back on course.
“I, um, don’t want to seem rude,” Twilight said apologetically, looking up to both Celestia and Reason humbly. “But I’ve still got questions.”
The couple recovered, each in their own way: Reason nodded; Celestia focused her gaze on Twilight. “Go on, dear,” she said. “Do not fret over us, please.”
In all honesty, Twilight wanted in good part to allow a moment for the two to themselves. However, the less empathetic part of her mind demanded answers to her lingering uncertainties regarding the whole affair. “Was Reason, ah, truthful about you arranging in transferring me to another place?” she asked. “That my responsibilities as a princess were to be practiced?”
“I didn’t necessarily want you to be transferred, no,” Celestia replied with a slight tilt of her head. “But if I did, that would be true. What good is a title without responsibility?” she asked.
A snort escaped from Reason’s nose, a sneer forming. “Come on, give it a rest, Celestia,” he scoffed. “Just tell her that you were going to make her the new guardian of Ponyville.”
Celestia smiled. “And what did you tell her, Reason?” she asked, “that I was going to transfer her to Los Pegasus? Maybe Vanhoover?”
“Neighpon,” Twilight finished for Reason, her vengeful eyes on him, narrowed to slits.
Celestia looked at Twilight for a moment, blinking. Then she turned to Reason, whose face was unreadable. There was a slight tug on her lips. “No wonder she was so passionate afterwards.” She bowed her head lightly. “Well done.”
“I have my moments,” was all Reason said, his smirk returning. Then the two began to laugh lightly.
“Hey! That’s not funny!” Twilight protested, not amused. “I thought I was never going to see my friends again!” Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, “And please don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
Her complaint did not silence the giggles, though Reason and Celestia did try to hide their enjoyment behind a hand and a hoof, respectively. “Again,” he said in between laughs, “I exaggerated.”
Twilight harrumphed. She didn’t find it the least bit funny. She did, however, quell her annoyance as she considered the new information. If Reason ‘exaggerated’, as he put it, what did that say about the other things that he had told her?
“What about all you’ve said about me being free to choose my own life?”
“Ah,” Reason said with a boastful smile, “all true, I’m glad to say.”
She shook her head. “But, then why was I forcefully made into an alicorn?” Twilight countered, stamping her hoof on the table for added emphasis. “That has changed my life—potentially forever!”
Reason’s grin disappeared, a neutral expression taking its place. He glanced at Celestia, who in turn knit her brow in dejection. “Reason had no part in that,” she admitted. “He was vehemently against my decision in making you an alicorn.”
Twilight wilted somewhat. “B–but—” A raised white hoof calmed her down.
“I did so, not as a punishment or for lack of love,” Celestia explained. “I made you an alicorn, because I deemed it a just reward.”
It took a moment for the pieces to fall in place in Twilight’s mind. “Wha— you mean the spell?” she asked, still confused. “But my friends helped me in completing it.”
“Yes, they did,” the Celestia said. “You were the one who actually came up with the solution, however.” Celestia stole a sideways glance towards Reason, who had his arms crossed. “In spite of Reason’s disagreement, I felt that you still deserved a reward. Becoming an alicorn, I felt —I feel— that you were ready for it.” She then leaned in with a roguish smirk. “And besides,” she added playfully, “do you really think that your friends could handle being an alicorn?”
Twilight’s immediate response was yes, but then she thought over the possible scenario: a Rarity with wings? A Rainbow Dash with magic? A Pinkie Pie with both? She shuddered inadvertently. They were not able to handle switched Cutie Marks, and literally had their lives changed. What did that say about becoming an entirely different being? She herself had gone through a lot after the transformation. No, she too didn’t think that her friends were ready for such a responsibility, least of all a certain pink earth pony. “Er, point taken.”
Yet, something about the reward bothered Twilight. “So you rewarded me, in spite of me putting my friends’ lives in jeopardy?”
“You amended your mistake,” Celestia said. “It had no bearing on you completing the spell. Did it?”
“I still think it did,” Reason interjected, arms still crossed. “If anything, Twilight failing to follow basic magical safety guidelines tells me tha—”
“Rajneesh.” Celestia suddenly huffed, instantly silencing Reason’s rebuttal. She turned with weary eyes towards the stunned man. “Rajneesh, what’s done is done. Please,” she said, “let’s not go over this again.”
Reason blinked, seemingly on the verge of countering. He instead sighed as he shuffled in his seat. “Alright, Celestia.”
Raj-nish? Twilight wondered, noting his reluctant submission. It was obviously a name of some sort, was it Reason’s human name? It was very much alien from most naming schemes that she was familiar with. Sensing an opportunity, she took advantage of the momentary lull in the conversation to bring up a doubt. “Is that all?”
Both Celestia and Reason looked up. “What I mean is,” Twilight said, “that it couldn’t have been your only motive, to reward me.” She set her forehooves on the table. “I... agree with Reason. Me causing the mess in the first place—” Twilight shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Reason glanced at the elderly alicorn, not saying a word. Celestia managed to keep a neutral face in spite of the pressure from both the human and scholar. “That,” she said in a controlled voice, “was, indeed, only part as to why you are now an alicorn, Twilight.”
“Then why?” Twilight prodded.
“Ponies prefer familiarity,” Celestia said, her gaze on the clouds above. “For millennia they’ve always had a leader in an alicorn.” Her eyes met Twilight’s. “You said that you found ponies appearing to be, ‘lost’, was it?”
“Yes?” Twilight answered, uncertain as to what her old mentor was getting at.
“Did you notice anything else about them?” Celestia asked.
The young mare mused over the question; what did Celestia mean, exactly? Her mind worked to recall certain memories, specifically those of the ‘lost’ ponies. Many were people whom Twilight didn’t know too well and they almost always had been looking for advice from her. Yet, it was not common counsel that they sought; in fact, it usually seemed like something that a mayor or leader would be responsible for. Was that it?
“They… they seem to look up to me,” she slowly said, beginning to understand. “You made me into something that is familiar to them.” A grateful smile was Celestia’s response; Reason’s response was a distant gaze. Twilight went on. “Y-you gambled on the hope that I would take on the role of a leader—even after all of this.”
Celestia nodded. “It was a hope and an insurance policy.”
“Insurance policy?” Twilight asked, her head tilted in curiosity.
Celestia levitated a biscuit. “To give reasonable doubt about my capacity as a fair and just leader, I needed to first create that doubt.” She set her eyes into Twilight’s. “And to do so, I had to do a questionable act.” As if to emphasize her point, she crushed the biscuit. A small dust cloud of crumbs slowly fell upon the tablecloth.
Reason fixed the mare an amused look. “You must really dislike Minoat biscuits if you annihilated two of them in one sitting, Celestia.”
Celestia, caught off guard by the offhoof comment, chuckled sheepishly. “Yes, well,” she said, turning once more to Twilight, “the fact of the matter is that if I had left you as a unicorn, relegating you to some desolate town, no noble of significance would have really batted an eye. I needed to paint myself as a villain, and to lure out the undesirables.”
Hook, line, and sinker, Twilight thought, now grasping Celestia’s reasoning. “And that... hope?”
“It is still that: a hope,” Celestia said. “The choice is still yours. We can lead a dog to the water, but it’s up to the dog if it wants to drink.”
Reason raised an eyebrow. “That’s not quite how I would’ve put it,” he commented with a smile. “But yes, that is the case.” He leaned forwards. “That also goes into your earlier question, Twilight. I deliberately avoided talking to you after that night, because I felt that I had done too much with that seed of doubt that I already had planted.” He placed his hand on Twilight’s hoof. “I didn’t want you to take up the role of leadership just because I—we might have wanted you to do so.”
“It has been, is, and always be your choice, Twilight,” Celestia said, the two nodding in agreement.
Twilight blinked. What she felt was indescribable, and struggled with the appropriate response. “I… I’ll need to think about this.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “To answer like this, on four hooves, I–I just can’t.”
Celestia nodded in understanding. “It is a lot to think about,” she said. “Remember, we are not forcing you into any one choice.”
“Any other questions?” Reason asked Twilight.
Was there anything else? She thought that she had heard enough to make an informed decision. However, something still bothered her. “Actually, I’ve been thinking...” Celestia edged closer. Reason’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Humans,” Twilight finally said.
Reason blinked. “What about humans?”
“Well...” She shrugged. “Everything, really. Your kind doesn’t live here anymore, barring yourself, and the possibility that they are hiding underground.” She looked up to Reason. “Where did they go? And why did you stay?”
Reason quickly glanced towards Celestia, who nodded. “Humans,” he began, adjusting himself in his seat, “are not from this world. We visited Equestria when it existed as the Three Tribes.”
“Visited? From where?”
Reason did not answer. He looked up towards the clearing sky with a nostalgic air in his eyes. “From afar,” he simply said. “From a place I don’t think your kind will be able to reach for many, many years.”
Twilight considered her next question with care. “Are you the last human?”
The man’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “I can't tell,” he replied with a certain edge to his voice. “I have not heard from the others for centuries, but something tells me that humanity is still alive and well, somewhere.” He offered a smile. “And I’d like to think that I’m not alone.”
Something about that smile bothered Twilight: it felt disingenuous, almost synthetic. Whether Reason was trying to convince himself or Twilight, she couldn’t tell. “Um, are you humans...” She gestured as she searched for the word. “Chaotic?”
This elicited a raised eyebrow from Reason at first. Then he made a sound denoting understanding. “You’ve talked to Discord, right?”
The look on Twilight was answer enough for Reason. “While I wouldn’t call my kind chaotic, I would say that we are full of potential. We have a capacity to create just as great as that to destroy.” He leaned in closer. “But we do strive to be better than what we are,” He explained. “Comparing me to you would be much akin to comparing, say, a muffin to a cupcake. You may be sweeter than us, but we might be more accessible than you are.”
He shrugged. “But that’s neither here nor there,” he coolly said. “I can’t just label an entire species, seeing as we will always have individuals being the exception. From what I’ve gathered, the same applies to ponies.”
The explanation did seem to make sense to Twilight. In general ponies were nice and tried to reflect their attitude on their actions, especially when dealing with others. It didn’t take her any real effort to come up with examples: her friends, her parents, her brother and sister-in-law…
But as soon as she came with examples of good people, she recalled of individuals who proved to be the opposite: that Lightning Dust that Rainbow had talked about; much of the Canterlot nobility; some of the youngsters that she had seen in and around Ponyville. Much like Reason, she couldn’t really describe what her kind was without accounting for the individuality to be found among her people. Twilight nodded.
Reason returned the nod with one of his own along with a smile. “People often times make the mistake to judge an entire species by the actions of a few, without considering the variety of it.”
Twilight nodded once more in agreement. The Appaloosa debacle confirmed as much. “What about Häukland, Celestia?” At the inquisitive expression, she went on, “You went there first, now you’re here in Minoat. Did they refuse to extend your stay, or something?”
“Not at all.” Celestia seemed almost shocked at the suggestion. “It was from my initiative. I’ve also been in the Confederacy and Saddle Arabia.”
“And?” There was something more to it, Twilight could just sense it.
“Just doing one last favor for Equestria,” the older mare said, her purple eyes twinkling. “I’ve been delegating on the behalf of our nation, trying to renew investment and business’ interests. You ought to know”—she lifted her head—“my ousting and the unrest hasn’t exactly inspired much confidence.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “You did that?” Celestia must have been pulling a lot of strings and cashing in every favor she had been building up till last year if she managed to do so. It shouldn’t have surprised Twilight considering who it was, but she was still very much impressed by it.
Celestia bowed her head lightly. “It was nothing,” she said modestly. Whether or not that modesty was sincere, Twilight couldn’t honestly tell. “It ought to be enough to put Equestria on the right path. It will also make your task easier, should you accept it.”
“Right…” Twilight murmured. “So.” She looked to the two before her. “I guess now it’s all down to me.” She chuckled ruefully, adding, “Again.”
Neither Reason nor Celestia said a word, looking on with anticipation instead. Twilight sighed. She both admired and detested their maneuvering. They put her in a position where she could really only go one way. The choices offered played with her personality and feelings over this. If Twilight refused, she would never forgive herself for potentially leaving…
Her eyes suddenly lit up. “What about Luna?” she asked them.
Celestia’s eyes twinkled. “It’s true, we’ve forgotten to mention about her.”
“Taken care of,” Reason said simply. “Luna’s in the loop. She fully supports our plan.”
“But what’s her role in this?” Twilight asked. “I thought that she wanted to remain a princess.” She cast her gaze downwards. “Unless...” She looked back up to see the smiling faces of Reason and Celestia. “All that’s really going to happen is a switch. Nothing else is going to change.”
Celestia bowed her head; Reason clapped his hands once. “You really are a smart one, Twilight,” Reason said.
“In essence, yes. You are taking my place, while my sister will still have her Midnight Court,” Celestia explained. “The only difference,” she said, “is your different perception and mindset. Equestria needs new blood.”
Reason nodded with a tug on his cheeks. “New ideas tempered by old traditions, while the old will be accompanied into the future by the new.” He then added, “And, in case the old is not enough, you can rely on me for the alien and foreign.”
“You’d do that?” Twilight asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Reason nodded. “I swore to an oath, Twilight. To offer advice to the Equestrian leader. I’ve done it for Celestia, for Luna, and I can do it for you as well.”
Twilight, as touched as she was by his support, scowled internally. This couldn’t have been solved by having an advisor instead of Celestia ousting herself? She realized that it wouldn’t have shaken up the populace if Celestia had done that. This was a necessary step. The only question was what her answer would be.
She signed once more. There really was only one answer. If she refused, Twilight couldn’t do so in good conscience. Leaving Equestria to its own devices was an incredibly risky prospect. She looked up to Celestia and Reason expectantly. Their own expressions mirrored hers. This is it, isn’t it?
Again Twilight sighed, knowing that what she was about to say would decide the future of Equestria, its people, and, in the long run, the world. Would it go well? Would it go badly? It was decided.
“Yes,” she said resolutely.
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Okay, I'm gonna eat my words. Now this story's complete.
I've taken into consideration all of the suggestions provided in the comment section and private messages sent to me about the story, and now, The Voice of Reason is officially finished. Any further continuation of this universe will not be done by me. Any and all authors are more than welcomed to try their hand at this verse.
Took too long, but I spent a lot of time trying to polish the story as much as I could. One quick note: to fully appreciate the epilogue, I suggest re-reading the first chapter as it has also been updated and has had some edited information. Overall, I am much more satisfied with this new ending than with the original one.
Special thanks to all of those who helped out with the making of this epilogue: my pre-readers; the people who offered ideas; my editors. And, of course, everyone who's read this story, liked and faved. You made this story matter to me. Thank you all so much.
Credits:
Pre-readers - For helping me with the polish
Yonasomun
Skeeter The Lurker
Pearple Prose
RainbowBob
Critics - For convincing me that I needed to rework the story (the more, the merrier!)
Magic Man
Shachza
EsperDerek
Spica
Knight of Cerebus
Alondro
mjnousak (Bloody good MST review. My hat off to you.)
Yonasomun
Fangwarden
eternallybored
psychicscubadiver
Idea People - For giving me the proper mindset I ought to have had in the beginning
Eragon5055
Squeaky Toy
My Life of Discord
Editors - For assisting me in how I had to write this epilogue and for the occasional idea
Demon Eyes Laharl (Seriously man, thank you so much for everything.)
My brother (If it hadn't been for you, I could have scrapped this! Thanks bro!)
If I have forgotten anyone, please notify me: A lot of people helped, and I'm overwhelmed by the huge credits.
This shall be my last controversial story. Please forgive me for having written this and caused drama!
That was....fantastic
The sky's the limit, and the future is as yet unwritten. This could be the primeir of a truly masive story arc, and the opening of a whole new 'reality.'
Keep up the great work. Deus tecum.
its was alright. liked the 1st half better though.
Celestia... you Magnificent Bastard...
You are a f*cking genius, man!
This is incredible, but there's one little thing that's bugging me - and if you did address this and I simply missed it, please forgive me. We have covered the immediate futures of most of the characters, with the notable exception of Celestia. What will she do now? Otherwise, a stunning piece of work.
SEQUEL NOW
Amazing
3247415
Thank you!
3247506
Indeed it is. The only limitation is the imagination of those who will take up the pen from where I left off. Many thanks.
3247591
Do you mean the first chapter? Alright, no problem. Thanks.
3248317
Please, I am not the one who should take all of the credit. Trust me, that list of credits is there for a reason. But I thank you nonetheless.
3248554
You are not mistaken, Celestia's imminent future is not explicit. As some readers pointed out in the first chapter, the implication here is that Celestia is mostly a tired mare. The fact that she's visiting exotic places, asides from rekindling foreign relations, is to enjoy them as well, not as a monarch, but as something of a well-liked and respected tourist. I kept it purposefully ambiguous, but that was what I had in mind at the time of writing. Thanks.
3248559
Refer to 3247506's comment.
3248816
Thank you.
Fascinating. I would love to read more stories in this universe of yours.
3248989
Alas, I shan't have a hand in any continuation or stories in this universe. Look to other authors taking the gauntlet!
Personally, this didn't need a sequel. It was good without it.
Celestia... well played.
3247291
You should glory on thinking that your stories have a profound enough impact to cause controversy, not shy away from the same controversy.
And... I loved your story.
3248941
Thanks for clearing that up.
Once again, a wonderful little coda to an already brilliant piece.
I can only pray that season four is as intelligently written as this story.
3248317
I agree!
This is good. End it here.
"THIS time it's complete."
"This is the last time I'm going to update it."
"No this is."
"Okay, it is seriously complete this time."
Am I the only one expecting this to happen?
3985204
Yes you are, because I am now satisfied with this story. I won't be working on it anymore save for some minor editing and fixes.
5049958
Twilight outright said in an earlier episode (the Nightmare Night episode) that he created over 200 spells. That's just sloppy of the writers and of the rushed nature of the S3 finale.
Whether or not the spell that Twilight completed was just abandoned because Swirl found it pointless or was too busy is irrelevant in the context of this story. The point is that Twilight only created one spell, whereas Swirl created far more and yet the only one elevated to nobility here was Twilight. Something just doesn't add up.
Thank you for the input.
This is a very interesting story. Very interesting...It makes one think of circumstances.
I'm not certain the followup was necessary. Several times while reading the second chapter I found myself with strong objections, that it invalidated premises from the first chapter. Granted, by the end you did resolve all those problems more or less adequately. It's internally consistent. There don't appear to be any glaring loose ends. I'm just not certain that the explanations provided by the second chapter are better than the unanswered questions from the first.
There are so many holes and inconsistencies in this story. Even after the second chapter, there still is no reasonable explanation for how Twilight ever became an Alicorn to begin with, which is just aggravating after the way it was played up as a big deal. There also is absolutely no reason for her to be any less angry after that second talk - if anything she should be even more pissed, because Celestia was being even more manipulative than she thought she was.
5683764
Where there are no facts, I have to come up with them. And besides, that particular 'fact' isn't an outlandish one. Not to mention that from the way you phrased it, it seems like you've cast your vote before finishing the story, which is integral to judging this piece.
But to each his own, I suppose, and I can't fault you if you didn't like what you were reading.
This story is what happens when you apply remotely intelligent political philosophy to Magical Mystery Cure. Equestria's concept of royal authority is more screwed up than historical Europe's.
Take it from here, peasant from Monty Python!
derpicdn.net/img/view/2013/2/17/245973__safe_text_barely+pony+related_spoiler-colon-s03e13_princess_monty+python_monty+python+and+the+holy+grail_government_peasant.jpg
6186648 What expensive night court? Presumption of facts not in evidence.
I downvoted this story because it builds an argument based on evidence that is manufactured from whole cloth to support the argument it builds. I cited a solid example of that tendency. What I said was that there's no point in providing a counterargument using evidence from canon. The "voice of reason" is obviously biased towards a conclusion sufficiently that it's willing to prop up this travesty of rhetoric on a house of cards. I have better things to do with my time.
And I will thank you for an apology for your unwarranted insult.
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Sigh.
I stand by what I've already told you, Ryvaken. You are judging the story prematurely, but it is entirely within your prerogative to do so.
Bronzer, I appreciate your support and the fact that you've enjoyed my story to the point of defending it, but it's done now. There's no need to defend a story that's been done with for a year. If you want to have a discussion with Ryvaken, please do so outside of the comments section.
6190069 I read the whole story. I chose only to highlight the point where my choice of commentary went from "you are wrong, this is why" to "You don't care that you're wrong, so I'll save my breath, but know that such apathy makes your writing that much worse."
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Apathetic? That stings, honestly. Considering the writing process, I couldn't have been any less apathetic when I wrote this piece. Some would argue that I was too emotional (I would) but apathetic? That's on the verge of being insulting. Especially considering the particular bit in which you're using as the basis for your accusation. Have we seen Luna's court in the show? No, as far as we are aware she doesn't even have one. But is it plausible? Yes. Is it plausible that it isn't as frequented as Celestia's? It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that.
You claim that I came up with facts to forge a rant, when really I created story points based on reasoned speculation based on observations of the show to offer a new perspective, and not only my own, I'll have you know. The whole premise is based on speculation based on observations!
Again, if you dislike the story, that is entirely fine. I can take that with stride. What I can't accept is the insinuation that I didn't care about the story when writing it. I take story writing very seriously, ask my prereaders. Please refrain from making such accusations if you please.
6192752 With your story, absolutely you cared, no argument. But for any debate on the reasonability of your speculation, well if I extrapolate from your descriptions I end up contradicting canon. So to my analysis, your speculation is lost in the woods between satire and madness. But at the same time I don't have enough meat to work with to make a good debate out of it. That's the apathy.
Honestly, at this point I'd just tell Celestia to stop the manipulatuons and go fuck herself, because at this point how the fuck can you know if they're juat using you to an end?
WWII
If I were Twilight, at some point I'd just say, "If I'm just confirming everything you already know, why am I here?"
Kinda assumed Celestia planned everything all along, but that fits the story the best
The fact that her friends didn't do good with switched cutie marks isn't surprising considering despite what their memories were saying they had no skills in these areas and had never been slightly trained in them the fact that they can do a few of the job requirements doesn't make them actually good enough to do as meaningful job.