The Start of Something New.

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“It is clear that action must be undertaken immediately. If we allow this to continue, it casts a bad light on the leadership of Equestria.”

Celestia let out a restrained sigh as she watched her sun illuminate the castle gardens. She longed to be out there. Even though the chill of the winter hadn’t been banished entirely, the first signs of spring were already prevalent throughout the castle gardens. The first of the spring rains had been scheduled, meaning that clouds were obscuring most of the sky, which gave the entire garden a somewhat melancholy feel. Celestia didn’t care; she wanted to watch the small, delicate bluebells bloom when the rains started. She wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.

“And what of this reporter? Where does he think slandering the princess’ name will get him?”

She managed a thin smile when she spotted a pair of birds chasing each other, their song audible even through the thick glass of the council chambers. She loved springtime, the promise of new life and new experiences.

“What do you want to do, Princess?”

Unfortunately, being the sole ruler of Equestria, she spent all her days either buried beneath mountains of paperwork or in meetings vital to the governing of Equestria, which meant that she rarely had the time to go out and enjoy any of it. There always seemed to be one more letter to write, one more diplomat to talk to, one more court dispute to reside over. Even now she was stuck in a small room, filled with only a single wooden table, several mountains of paper, and eight of the most argumentative ponies the kingdom had to offer. She turned back to her council, biting back another sigh now that their attention was on her.

A throat being cleared shook her out of her introspection. “My apologies, I was lost in thought. What was the question?”

“The pony named ‘Snapshot’, as well as the gossip magazine he works for, what should we do with them?”

“I say that banishment is the only viable solution!” a distinguished pegasus stallion said, flaring his wings for emphasis.

Celestia’s focus drifted when it became clear that their banter was the prelude to the next debate. Her introspective musing had made her miss the third discussion which followed on from several of such debates—and outright shouting matches—about legislation on news. She leaned over to her closest aide and whispered, “What have they been talking about for the last hour, Sunny?”

The teal-colored unicorn gave her a worried look but answered in the same volume. “They have been debating the merits of banishment versus public flaying, Your Highness.”

Celestia blinked. “What exactly did this Snapshot do?”

Sunny Scrolls clutched the notepad tightly and averted her gaze. “In his magazine The Daily Scoop, Mister Snapshot has published an article that suggests a rather... unhealthy relationship between Your Highness and pastries. It has caused quite an uproar amongst the nobles.”

“I can only imagine,” Celestia groused. She sat up and cleared her throat. “Councilors.”

“And another thing, I don’t care for your tone, sir—”

“Enough.” Even though she spoke softly, her words carried a silent power which made everypony in the room fall silent and look at her.

Celestia sighed and pressed a hoof to her face. For the last seven hundred years, she had managed to avoid using auditory suggestions in her political dealings, but it seemed like today was going to be problematic. Her patience had run out, and she had done something she shouldn’t have. She needed a slice of chocolate cake.

“Councilmen, I am not about to punish anypony for anything. Least of all banish them for the mere act of running a gossip column.”

“But, Princess...” One of her newer, more ambitious, advisors didn’t look like he wanted to let go of a juicy matter like this one, possibly trying to curry favour. Ponies like that always reminded her of dragons, jealously guarding their possessions and always looking to expand their influence.

“I said, enough.” she watched him silently, daring him to open his mouth again. He gulped and averted his eyes. After that she gave them a curt nod and got up. “That will be all for today, gentlecolts.”

The advisors left the room, each of them bowing to her in turn before walking out the door. Sunny Scrolls gave her another unsure look, but was similarly dismissed with a minute shooing motion from Celestia’s hoof.

As soon as the last stallion had left, she closed her eyes and let her posture sag, hanging her head in exhaustion. As if dealing with Gryphon treaties and territorial dragons wasn’t enough for one day. Even her own advisors were bickering like children over something that was so harmless, its conclusion should have been forgone. The fact that she hadn’t slept in days didn’t help matters, it made her more irritable and impaired her judgement.

She decided it was time for a break.

She stepped down from the platform and stretched her legs, enjoying relieving the tension the hours of forced inactivity had caused. A walk in the castle gardens would do her some good, and allow her to rest a little. Keeping up composure was becoming stressful and exhausting. Perhaps she just needed some excitement to break through the tedium.

It took roughly twenty minutes before Celestia finally set foot in the gardens. She had run into a fussy noblemare in the hallway outside the council chambers who had very nearly talked her ears off. Disentangling herself from the discussion in a way that wouldn’t upset the mare had taken far too long for her liking. After that she had taken detour through the kitchens. It was the long way around, but at least she was assured of some privacy; not to mention the extra benefit of the freshly prepared chocolate cake, which one of the cooks had saved for her. On some level, she had asked for it to spite her advisors, but mostly it was because she wasn’t going to let all the rumor mongering ruin one of her few guilty pleasures.

Perhaps I should send The Daily Scoop a box of Joe’s doughnuts...

She walked through the garden, holding the cake aloft in her magic. She made for one of the smaller hedge mazes, it being one of the few places she knew ponies wouldn’t usually disturb her. She made her way to the center of the maze with ease, having memorized the route since she had it erected a few hundred years prior.

After a short rest at the gazebo during which she devoured the small treat, Celestia started her walk, and her break, in earnest. She set out from the maze, wandering around the flower gardens. She noted with pleasure that all of them were being kept neat by the many groundskeepers the castle employed, and stopped to smell the flowers more than once.

Gardening, another activity she enjoyed, which had fallen by the wayside of the ever growing mountain of paperwork that had long since swallowed her desk.

When she wandered into the statue garden, what she heard was more akin to a sawmill than the castle gardens. Rounding the corner she found that one of her guards had dozed off. The pegasus was snoring loudly, slumped against a statue of a mare holding a scroll.

Celestia smirked. The Solar Guard was renowned for their diligence, but it seemed like Silverwing could use some help remembering that.

“I take it everything is in order then, Silverwing?” She asked, lightly poking him in the side with a hoof.

He bolted upright and snapped to attention when he noticed her. Quickly saluting as if he’d been alert the whole time. “G-good afternoon, your majesty.”

“Resting your eyes for a spell?” She asked, turning her attention to the statues and checking the enchantments that rested upon them.

“Apologies, Princess. It won’t happen again.” Silverwing trailed off, taking note of the distant look in Celestia’s eyes.

“At ease, guardsman. You’re not in trouble.”

He relaxed a little, taking a deep breath before he continued, “Princess, if it’s not too bold...”

One of her ears swiveled in his direction. “Speak your mind.”

Silverwing grimaced. “Well, Princess... I was wondering, why exactly am I stationed here?” he gestured to the surrounding topiary. “There’s nothing of value; just a bunch of carved rocks. The rest of the unit makes it seem like some sort of punishment detail, but there really isn’t any reason to post somepony here, is there?”

She could see him sweating, probably wondering if he had said too much so she turned to smile at him. “Silverwing, you guard some of the most important cultural heritage of Equestria. Not to mention several important statues I created myself.” She chuckled to put him at ease. “They might not hold any monetary value, but they have no equal when it comes to their emotional value.”

“Sorry, Princess. I shouldn’t have questioned your judgement.”

Celestia continued to smile at him. “Relax, Silverwing. I encourage such questions. It is much easier to put your best hoof forward if you know the importance of your job, don’t you think?”

He saluted. “Yes, your majesty! Please excuse me, I should be getting back to doing just that.”

After a nod, Celestia watched the stallion dash off to continue his rounds, letting the smile slip from her face with a sigh. She hadn’t outright lied to him and comforted herself with that fact. ‘Importance of your job, indeed.’

She returned to checking the ancient enchantments she had placed on the statues for signs of decay. Most of them simply kept their statues in pristine condition and ensured that cleaning them was easy. Others however, kept the greatest enemies of Equestria locked up in their prisons of stone, where she could keep an eye on them from her chamber balcony. She stopped briefly to smell the mignonettes which only bloomed around certain statues, taking in the powerful scent of vanilla which, in turn, made her yearn for another slice of cake.

The excitement Celestia had been craving struck around the time she reached the front gates. She stumbled when a tidal wave of magic slammed into her and knocked her off balance, groaning as waves of pain radiated from the base of her horn. What's going on?! she thought, fighting the blackness that crept in around the edges of her vision. Gritting her teeth, she forced her head to turn toward the nearby guards, only to watch them collapse, overwhelmed by the explosion of magical pressure.

Celestia flared her wings, straining every muscle in her legs to try and preserve her balance under the sensory assault. Only once she felt secure in her stance did she lift her head to try and pinpoint the source of the disturbance.

She didn’t have to look far. The fifty foot high dragon bursting through the ceiling was indication enough that something had gone wrong in the Tower of the Scholar, where the entrance exams for her School for Gifted Unicorns were held.

She took a step back and lowered her head towards one of the guards, nudging him. “Pull yourselves together.” The guard groaned but didn’t stir, the whites of his eyes making for a good indicator of exactly how out of sorts they were. She abandoned the notion of waking them. The magical energies were starting to give her a migraine, and if it kept up, it wouldn’t be long before she was overwhelmed as well.

She would have to destroy whatever was causing the spell flux, which meant that she had to get to the top of the tower. She debated simply magicking herself up there but eventually decided against it. With this much ambient magic, there’s no guarantee that I’ll come out in the right place... if I even come out at all.

Flying was the second best option. She rolled her shoulders and braced herself. Taking off without a running start for somepony of her size required a good jump to get airborne. Her jump took her a few yards, after which she crashed to the ground. She groaned while she regained her footing. Forgetting to take into account that she was using her wings for balance was a rookie mistake. A few seconds after trying to take off, her headache had doubled and she tasted dirt. Walking then, or rather galloping, was the only option remaining.

She made a mad dash for the entrance to the tower, losing one of her gilded horseshoes in the process. She kicked off the other three and made for the stairs, the headache pounding against her skull only growing in strength.

When the Tower of the Scholar was built, Celestia had given the workers specific instructions for its construction. Sandwiched between the walls were a series of runes, powered by the ambient magic all ponies possessed. The runes were powerful enough to stop most major incidents entirely, and even now had managed to contain most of the pressure the explosion at the top was creating.

Unfortunately, it meant that staying on her hooves inside the tower was a great deal more difficult than it had been outside, especially while climbing the stairs. By the time she reached the top of the tower, she was exhausted, having lost her balance more than once on her way up. With a surge of will, she pushed herself through the door and into a calm belt of the magical storm. Much like a hurricane, a magical flux had a thin zone where the pressure had a dip in intensity, which gave Celestia a brief respite from the headache and time to assess the situation.

Inside the examination room, the examiners hung suspended in a telekinetic force field; They were all unconscious and their horns were smouldering. They must have tried to stop it. The rest of the room was in various states of disarray. Over half of the student benches had been snapped in half or vanished entirely, some potted plants seemed to have gone walk about and were standing together on the far side of the room, and finally a dragon. It sat there, blinking, immobile for the time being. He hadn’t gone on a rampage yet, but even that was only a temporary reprieve at best. She focused on the center of the room where a swirling sphere of magic was floating a few inches from the floor; the cause of this entire life-threatening mess. Judging by its size, it was the result of a sizable experiment gone wrong and looked to be getting more out of hoof with each passing moment.

She quickly wove a simple ball of force with her magic and sent it towards the center of the room. The spell unraveled as quickly as she had created it, coming undone like a ball of yarn before it even reached half of the way. Celestia let out an irritated huff. From her position in the doorway, any offensive spell would be unwoven long before it reached its target. She would have to get closer to do anything about the maelstrom of energies that caused all this. Something niggled at the back of her mind; an appointment she had forgotten, no doubt, but she shook it off. Now wasn’t the time to be getting lost in thought.

She shook her head and steeled herself. Nothing to it... She stepped forward and fell. The air closer to the epicentre was suffused with a much higher concentration of magic. She would have to be quick.

Celestia dragged herself to her hooves and took a few shaky steps. This was all the distance she needed. She braced herself and summoned her own magic, gathering it in the tip of her horn to be released when she had woven it into a deadly lance of pure energy. The doubt returned, clawing at the back of her mind, refusing to be silenced.

She looked at the swirling ball of energies again, squinting her eyes to try and get a better picture. That was when she noticed the filly hanging suspended in its midst. With a shock the hitherto forgotten memory came back to her; there was an exam today. The sphere wasn’t just a byproduct of a failed experiment. The magic storm was being fueled by a young filly who looked to be in a great deal of pain.

Celestia sighed and allowed the gathered energy to dissipate harmlessly. Stars be damned, why is nothing ever easy?

She took a deep breath struggling against the ravaging winds until she reached the outer edge of the sphere. The magical winds whipping about left small gashes in her otherwise pristine white coat, and she knew from experience that touching the sphere itself was going to hurt a great deal more.

She pressed on regardless, gritting her teeth against the pain. Pushing through the sphere felt like being flayed by dozens of whips simultaneously. At the same time, her horn felt like it was on fire, and would burst from all the magical energy she was trying to deflect.

It took Celestia some time to reach the filly. Every step was like walking through a wall of syrup. When she was finally close enough, she carefully pressed her forehead against that of the filly, locking her painfully sensitive horn with the unicorn’s at the base. It felt like a bolt of lightning. The influx of raw, unfocused magic hurt as it coursed through her body, and despite her many millennia of experience, Celestia had trouble managing it all. She called on her connection with the sun and channeled as much of the the raw power as she could into it.

When the flow of magic finally petered out, Celestia was shivering all over. She felt like she had been acting as a conduit for the chaotic magic for ages. Somewhere along the line her hind legs had given out and she had fallen into a sitting position, only barely keeping the tenuous connection between her own horn and that of the filly. After the sphere had dissipated and the filly fell to the ground, Celestia finally gave in and let exhaustion take her.

When she opened her eyes again, she had a hard time bringing her vision into focus. Not only that, but her lungs were heaving, fighting a desperate battle for air. Her legs were still trembling, and her coat was rapidly becoming more pink than white from the many gashes that marred her appearance.

She shook her head.

The room slowly came into focus, and she just caught the last of the disturbances—the dragon—babble incoherently as it shrank back to its state of infancy.

She perked her ears when she heard a soft sobbing. When she turned to check on the filly, a pair of purple, tear-filled eyes stared back at her. “I’m s-sorry.” She stepped closer and softly nudged Celestia’s neck, in a gesture that was more akin to a nuzzle. The poor filly was trembling all over. "I didn't mean to—"

Celestia shook her head. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I hurt you!" the filly cried out, her eyes darting all over Celestia’s stained coat.

"You... couldn't help it." Celestia had a hard time thinking of things to say to the filly. She was feeling light headed.

"I should have tried harder, I should've... I should've—"

Stop doing this to yourself! It was an accident. Celestia gnashed her teeth while the filly continued berating herself for something she couldn’t have possibly controlled until she reached the breaking point. "Enough!" The filly shrunk back and cowered. Celestia immediately regretted her outburst, as she watched the filly’s lower lip tremble. She sighed and put a gentle smile on her face. "You did everything you could."

The filly was silent for a while, likely wondering if Celestia would snap at her again. “A—are you...” She sniffed a few times, “are you going to die?”

The filly’s fear sparked something in Celestia. The little unicorn’s power intrigued her, but its intensity up close had frightened her. The last time she had felt anything close to it was... Celestia’s focus drifted, thinking back to the sister she had fought, and how catastrophic a loss of control could be to even the most powerful of ponies. Especially for powerful ponies.

Loud sobbing drew her out of her thoughts. She felt the filly’s forehooves on her neck, pressing against a wound rather painfully. “Please don’t die!” she closed her eyes, her mouth a thin line of concentration while her horn sputtered, sending half a dozen harmless sparks flying through the room.

Celestia smiled internally, touched by the filly’s concern. The filly lowered herself to the floor, panting from exhaustion. Only now did Celestia realise that, despite the power the unicorn in front of her possessed, she was still very much a filly. "Shhh, shhh, Calm down. I’m not going to die."

"B-but you're bleeding and hurt, and... and..!"

Celestia didn’t need to look to know how true that was; every one of her muscles ached. It was a feeling she’d rather not get used to. "That’s true, but I've been hurt much worse, little one."

"You have?"

"I once fought with my—” Celestia caught herself. “An ancient dragon, she almost bit my entire wing off. You haven't done anything nearly as bad." She managed another weak smile for the filly. “So don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” She reached out with a hoof and poked the filly in the side. “You have more important things to worry about.”

The filly cocked her head. “I do?”

“Yes, you do,” Celestia continued, raising a hoof to poke the filly in the side again. The action sent bolts of pain through her leg, but she refused to let herself be deterred. She instead motioned towards the filly’s flank with her muzzle. She was tired, and felt lightheaded as her magic faded together with the adrenaline. But she wanted to see the filly’s reaction to having acquired her cutie mark.

The filly spun around and around, trying to find out what Celestia was pointing at. “Oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH!” She launched into a hopping sort of dance only children could get away with, her fear forgotten in the blink of an eye.

“Twilight!” She watched a dark blue stallion and an off-white mare rush forward to hug the filly tightly; tears of relief apparent on their faces. ’Twilight?' Celestia blinked. Are they her parents?

“I’m okay, Mom,” Twilight squeaked, struggling to get out of the vice grip her mother had on her. After a squirming out from between her mothers forelegs, the filly ran back to Celestia, pulling her mother along. The mare gasped when she saw the injuries and fretted quietly, probably looking around for first aid supplies. Twilight watched as well, biting her lip but saying nothing.

For Celestia, the attention to her wounds once again made her aware of them. She took a deep breath and got up, noting with satisfaction that several of the gashes had already closed and were healing rapidly. Even so, she still looked like a mess. Her horn had been scorched black in the struggle with rampant magicks, and she had lost her crown somewhere along the way, leaving her mane to drift freely.

She heard the filly gasp again when, before her young lavender eyes, one of the wounds closed up, the red that had soaked into Celestia’s coat being the only indication that it had ever been there.

Twilight looked up at her with an open mouth and eyes the size of dinner plates. The sight of such foal-like awe made the princess giggle. She lowered her head towards Twilight and winked. “Shhh,” she said, “it’s a secret.”

Taken with the filly, Celestia had nearly forgotten about her parents, who were fretting nearby. If anything, they seemed even more shocked than their daughter, and Celestia bit down on her lip to stifle a giggle at their near panicked expressions. She smiled at the trio, feeling a lot better about her day now than she had several hours ago, wounds and headache notwithstanding.

And Twilight... Celestia examined her from the corner of her eyes. On the surface she looked like an ordinary unicorn filly. At least, as ordinary as a half burnt, half battered filly could look after a magical disaster like that. And therein lay the problem. Celestia had no idea what to do about a filly that powerful, but if the warmth in her chest was any indication, she could surmise that she already liked Twilight.

The older ponies were possibly more excited than Twilight herself, smiling brightly and each giving her a loving nuzzle. Celestia paid them little mind. For the time being she had to assess the damages the storm had caused, and put ponies to work on fixing it. Her left ear twitched as soft groaning reached her from behind the student benches. Looking over her shoulder, she found the examiners, piled up like cordwood.

She left the filly to show her parents her cutie mark, and subsequently repeat of her celebratory dance. Celestia strode towards the back of the room. The unicorns were still reeling from their experience with the magical storm, most of them still unconscious. She checked them for wounds, quickly realising that if she wanted answers, she was going to have to find somepony that could tell her.

“Professor?” she asked, calling forth her magic to try and disentangle the pile of ponies. The effort sent another bolt of pain through her skull, making her grimace. In lieu of a magical solution, she used muzzle and hoof to make sure that each of the examiners had ample room to breathe.

The leader of the teaching staff at her school for gifted unicorns raised his head with another groan. He blinked a few times before his eyes finally focused on her. In a flash he was standing, dusting himself off while looking between his colleagues and the young unicorn who was still dancing around her parents.

“It’s good you arrived when you did, Your Highness,” he said, turning to her with an unphased smile. “Any longer and we might not have made it through the day.”

Celestia looked at him with a hint of worry, taking a cautious step forward. The professor was an aging, ocher yellow stallion. He was one of the brightest ponies she knew, but had the tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. While usually held in check by his peers, it made him an eccentric. Celestia valued his input, as it was often unburdened by social stigma, but that didn’t stop her for being worried about what he might do next. Nor did it stop her from worrying about him; he often brushed off injuries as unimportant, and she could smell burnt hair.

“Your Highness...” he began, a pensive look on his face.

Celestia briefly paused her examination. “What is it professor?”

"How long has it been since you’ve had to exert yourself to such a degree?"

"It has been..." Celestia closed her eyes and thought back, trying to decide exactly how much information she was willing to divulge. "...An exceedingly long time," she finally concluded.

The stallion hummed thoughtfully, looking at the filly who was happily dancing around her parents. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Speak your mind, professor." Unlike most ponies, who didn’t dare thread in the places Brighthoof’s mind went, his insight was often valuable to her.

"She is too powerful, Your Highness. I think it best if you burned away her magic." He turned to her with an inquisitive look. "You do possess that ability, do you not?"

Celestia had to still a twitch in her right eye. Poise, Celestia... Poise, grace, composure, she thought to herself as she fought down the urge to smack the stallion. "Where did you get such a ridiculous notion?"

Brighthoof shrugged idly while he assessed the damage to the rest of the room. “Third hoof accounts, as well as some historical documents. The rumor mill never sleeps, your majesty.”

"For future reference, professor," Celestia replied coldly. "Do not believe everything you hear."

Brighthoof nodded, unfazed. “I see...” He glanced around, assessing the damage done to the room in his own quiet way. "Then the only other options available to us are banishment or imprisonment in a magical containment cell," he said with a decisive finality.

Celestia looked at him from the corner of her eyes, slackjawed. “You can’t be serious, Brighthoof.”

He ran a hoof through his graying mane and averted his gaze. “I am deadly serious, Your Highness. Her power might be great enough to rival your own, but she utterly lacks any form of control. She is a danger to herself and others.” He gestured to the rest of the teaching staff, most of which were only now stumbling to their hooves. “Over sixty percent of the teaching body was here today, and we were overwhelmed by the atmospheric magical pressure."

He pushed his cracked glasses up with a hoof, wrinkling his nose in distaste as if they had offended him somehow. “She wasn’t even consciously casting or directing her magic, and it still proved too much for a containment shield created by seven of the school's most competent unicorns.”

She could see sadness in his eyes when he looked back at the filly, who by now was hugging her parents. “Such a shame, really, she would have had a lot of potential, but she’s just too dangerous.”

Celestia set her jaw. His casual approach to imprisonment (or worse) was infuriating. She didn’t know what to say; what to think. Here she was, thinking about how exciting it was to finally meet a pony who could measure up, and the first thing ponies wanted to do was lock her away. "Wrong again, Brighthoof. There is another alternative." She set off towards the three unicorns in the front of the demolished classroom, giving the stallion no time to reply.

She clenched her teeth and kept walking. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Nopony deserved that kind of treatment. She swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought of her sister. Nopony!

Only when she noticed the looks of shock on the faces of Twilight and her parents did she stop walking. Following their gazes to her hooves confirmed it; she had let her anger get to her. She'd destroyed a section of the polished marble, leaving a lightly-smoking crater. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily destabilize the entire tower.

She cleared her throat and smiled awkwardly. “My apologies,” she said to the shocked family. “Today has been a very trying day.”

“We apologise for the damage Twilight’s magic has caused, your majesty,” Twilight’s father said, bowing gracefully.

Twilight tilted her head when she looked at her father, before a poke in her sides startled her into action. She bowed as well, awkwardly imitating him. “I’m... I’m sorry for hurting you, Princess. I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, Twilight.”

“Sparkle.”

Celestia tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“My name is Twilight Sparkle, Princess,” the filly said, keeping her head low.

“Twilight Sparkle.” Everypony turned to regard professor Brighthoof. “You are a pony of astounding capabilities. I daresay your power is greater than anypony I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, save for our fair princess, of course.”

Twilight smiled brightly at the praise, her chest swelling with pride. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sadly,” the professor continued, “you lack even the most basic control needed to handle magic at all, let alone power of that magnitude, resulting in problematic events such as the one we just experienced.”

He trotted over to the baby dragon and cast an appraising look while it suckled on its own tail. “Normally, we could teach you that control, but due to the nature of your power, and the fact that we’d all be dead if it hadn’t been for the princess arriving when she did, I think it would be wise for you to come with us.”

“So she’s been accepted?” Twilight’s father asked suspiciously, watching the prospect bring a smile to his daughter’s face.

“I’m afraid not,” Brighthoof replied. “Twilight needs to be locked away, for her own good as well as that of others.”

A deadly silence gripped the room. It was as though a Windigo had made its perch in the rafters while nopony was watching. Twilight's parents openly glared at Brighthoof who, for his part looked oblivious to the tension he had created.

A white wing blocked the line of sight for both parties. Celestia heaved a heavy sigh and dipped her head towards Twilight’s parents. “I apologize once again. Professor Brighthoof doesn’t always consider the social ramifications of his words. Nopony will be locking up anypony, I assure you.”

Twilight scrambled and hid behind her mother, peeking out from behind the mare’s hind legs with youthful curiosity. Both parents had tensed, a slight shift in posture that turned their presence from ‘visitors’ to ‘hostiles’. Her mother wore a mask of grim determination, announcing to the world that she would do whatever it took to protect her baby. Her father was even more frightening. He looked ready to take on anypony who would even dare to threaten his little girl.

Brighthoof didn’t seem deterred at all, however. “But, Princess, I am only trying to protect them from their daughter. You have seen how dangerous her magic can be!” He stepped forward, hesitating only when Celestia shot him a withering glare.

“That’s enough, Brighthoof. We will talk about this at a later date; for now I think it best that you get yourself checked out by the medical staff and take a week off.”

Though her parents remained tense, a smile bloomed on little Twilight’s face as she watched the ‘big bad professor’ leave. She hopped out from her hiding spot behind her mother and bounded towards Celestia. She came to a halt and placed her tiny hooves against one of Celestia’s legs, grinning up at the princess before looking over her shoulder. “See, mom? I told you Princess Celestia was amazing.”

Again, the half forgotten feeling of kinship threatened to overwhelm Celestia. She allowed herself a smile before clearing her throat to draw back the attention to herself.

“However—”

“You’re not going to take her magic away, are you?”

Celestia face hoofed. “Why does everypony assume I have the power to do that?” She watched in exasperation as both of Twilight’s parents shrugged and mumbled something about The Daily Scoop. She reconsidered her earlier stance on banishing the magazine; at the very least she was going to have a serious conversation with the publishers. “No, I will not take away her magic.” She looked down at Twilight who’d sat down in front of her. She decided, then and there, to do something she hadn’t done in a long time. “How would you like to become my personal student, Twilight Sparkle?”

If Twilight’s smile had been bright before, it was eclipsed by the radiant one that now spread across her face. True to her name, her eyes began to sparkle and she shook lightly but the best part was the noise that accompanied her charming expression. It was a mix between a gasp and a squeal, and succeeded in bringing a smile back to Celestia’s face as well.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes! When can we start? Will I be able to teleport? Are you going to teach me to raise the sun? Oh, I should get started right away!” The filly stepped back and closed her eyes, sticking out her tongue in an unconscious gesture of concentration while her horn once again produced a few futile sparkles. She ignored decorum in a way only the young could get away with. Celestia liked her already.

Contrary to the filly, Brighthoof, the examiners, and even Twilight's parents were merely surprised and confused. Their questions drowned out the filly’s cheering, making Celestia want to groan; why did ponies always feel the need to question her every move?

Granted, she wasn’t sure if she had questioned herself enough. Normally she waited, analyzing, deliberating, formulating a plan; she tried to foresee and plan for all possible outcomes. The last time she hadn’t, she had lost three days of her life and the two year’s worth of alcohol it had taken to get herself drunk. At least she had found out that she wasn’t an angry drunk.

Still, now was not the time to be second guessing herself. Brighthoof was right about one thing; if Twilight didn’t learn to control her magic, it would become a problem for everypony.

Ignorance was to be expected. After all, It had been several centuries since she had last taken on a student. Even Numbers had done some great things for the reformation of tax policy, but despite, or perhaps because of that, Celestia was the only one who remembered him.

“Well,” she began, looking at Twilight’s parents, “You will have to get permission from your parents, but if they have no objections, I would think that you might want some time to pack, and say goodbye.”

Twilight frowned and glanced back at her mother. The mare shook her head and motioned for her daughter to continue. “Why do I need to say goodbye?”

“Because, if you want to be my student, you would have to live here at the castle, Twilight.”

“So I can’t see my mom and dad anymore?” The question put a damper on Twilight’s spirits, and came with a case of shimmering eyes so potent that even Celestia couldn’t resist. She put a reassuring hoof on Twilight’s back in a comforting gesture.

“Of course you can, Twilight. You’ll be able to visit them on the holidays. You just won’t see them every day.”

“That’s right, honey,” Twilight’s mother said, giving the filly a comforting nuzzle. “I’m sure the princess will let us come and visit often enough. It’ll be just like when Shining went to the academy.”

After Celestia had called in an entire army of construction workers to begin repairs to the tower, they moved to the castle library to talk about Twilight’s relocation. In hindsight, it may not have been the best of ideas. Twilight vanished upon entry, losing herself among the bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, her squeals of glee amongst the books indicating her winding path through the library.

Celestia was impressed when she was told about the amount Twilight had already learned in her relatively short life, and if she were to believe Twilight’s parents, the filly would make short work of any book put in front of her, along with any reference material close by. Twilight was more than a little ahead of her peers.

While her new student frolicked, Celestia outlined the details of Twilight’s new life at the castle to her parents, and even showed her parents the room she had in mind for the filly. Celestia got her first taste of the thirst for knowledge that Twilight possessed when they returned to the library. The filly had a piled up at least six dozen books she wanted to read onto a nearby table. Engrossed in the books, the filly didn’t even notice their return until Celestia put a hoof on her shoulder.

“How long will it take before I can learn an invisibility spell?” the filly asked, bubbling with excitement as she showed Celestia the relevant chapter in a spellbook that, by rights, shouldn’t even have been in the public library.

“Well, I’m sure tha—”

“What about a fireball? Or maybe the flashfreeze spell my magic kindergarten teacher used to use?”

“...” Celestia didn’t even have time to form a reply, as the filly had already moved on to other subjects.

“What are the guards like? How old are you? Can I see the observatory?”

When Celestia opened her mouth again, she was stopped by a look from Twilight’s mother that said, ‘just wait her out,’ an advice she wisely followed. By the time Twilight was done with her rapid fire barrage of questions, she had all but exhausted herself. When the filly timidly asked for a book to take home with her, Celestia gladly obliged.

The way Twilight set her jaw and pursed her lips to form a pout when her parents told her that one book would be enough brought a smile to Celestia’s face. She took ‘Magical Misfires and Mayhaps’ from a nearby shelf and floated it down to the filly. “How about this; I’ll give you this book to read at home, and when you come back, you can read any book you want.”

“Really?” Twilight asked, looking up at her with those big soulful eyes of hers.

Celestia nodded. “Really.”

That seemed to be enough for the filly who trotted back to her mother and sat down with the book, apparently having a hard time not cracking open the book right away. Twilight became a much more active participant of the conversation after that, asking about test scores and homework with a deadly accuracy.

The more pointed the filly’s questions, the more concerned Celestia became. They hadn’t even begun and already she was starting to doubt the wisdom of her decision. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d know what to do.

For all her experience, she had never had a student as young as Twilight. In addition to that, she already had so many duties that she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to juggle all of them. Caring for a young filly and teaching her everything she needed to know, not only to control her magic, but to grow up well, would put even more strain on her already overburdened schedule.

Unless you start delegating tasks like you should have done, so many decades ago, her mind helpfully reminded her.

It was afternoon by the time they finally finished their conversation. Celestia walked her visitors to the gates, wanting to get a last breath of fresh air in before she dove back into the pool of muck that was Equestrian bureaucracy. They exchanged goodbyes and Celestia received a solemn promise from Twilight that she would be ‘ready for any quiz the princess might have about the book,’ which made her smile again.

Why am I worried? she thought. She’s just a filly. I’ve taught more than my share of ponies, and with a little shuffling and delegating tasks, I should have more than enough time. This shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Your Highness?” came a voice from beside her.

“Yes, Sunny?” she replied, closing her eyes and tilting her head up so she could bask in the warmth of her sun. Her charge was bathing the entire city in its warming glow, with nary a cloud in sight.

“Princess, it was supposed to be an overcast day today.”

Celestia blinked and looked down; she remembered thinking how the weather matched the rut she was in, mostly dark and chilly with only a few warm rays of sunshine breaking through the cloud cover. And she had an inkling as to what had caused it.

“A mistake by the weather patrol, perhaps?” she asked hopefully.

“No, Princess, it seems you put too much energy into raising the sun today; the weather patrol reports that the clouds keep evaporating.”

“Ah...” On second thought, this may take a bit of doing.

The Next Best Thing.

View Online

Time flies when you’re having fun. Unfortunately, the same can not be said for being overworked without having so much as a second to rest, which inevitably means that some things go forgotten. So perhaps it should have come as no surprise that at least half the things that Celestia had intended to do that day had gotten pushed to the next, and then the next, until they had fallen off her mental radar entirely.

After four days of dealing with a huge scandal over the possible rigging of the mayoral election, another three days spent drafting a proposal to the Zebra tribes (making an entire diplomatic document rhyme was far from easy, after all), and an entire week spent attending an overly ceremonious tea party to which she had been invited by the dragon ambassador, she had completely lost track of time. Not only that; she had all but forgotten about the filly she had accepted as her student. Which wasn’t a problem until an attendant came up to her in the middle of morning court.

“Twilight Sparkle and her parents have arrived, and are waiting by the side entrance as you requested, Princess,” he whispered to her, while she was focused on a dispute between a pair of farmers (whose original quarrel had concerned a tree, but had since evolved into a full-fledged case of land-grab).

She gave him an absentminded nod, trying to keep up with the confusing shouting match the entire argument was threatening to devolve into. “Thank you. Tell them I will be with them shortly.” She righted her posture and cleared her throat. It took a full ten seconds before the farmers finally noticed that the rest of the room had gone quiet and quickly bowed to Celestia in apology. “Gentlecolts,” she said, smiling benevolently. “While I am deeply moved by the passion you both display, I have been called to attend to other matters. I will therefore leave you, and the rest of this morning court, in the capable hooves of my councilors.”

The councilors in question (who had been softly conversing amongst themselves while treating the entire court progression as an extended banquet opportunity) balked at the sudden and unwelcome attention. One by one they scrambled to the throne, settling down on the platform situated halfway up the dais—the place they should have been sitting from the start. They quickly busied themselves with catching up on the last hour of proceedings, allowing Celestia to leave the room with a smile that was more devious than benevolent.

The name had sparked some recognition, and Celestia realized she had forgotten to take care of a few very important things... such as actually getting the castle ready to situate its newest occupant, or even preparing any sort of teaching schedule. But it wasn’t until she had followed her attendant around the corner and saw the purple filly gawking at everything while talking a mile a minute, that she remembered how... driven Twilight actually was. Which only exacerbated those problems.

And don’t forget that you still haven’t delegated any of your responsibilities.

The filly was enthusiastically pointing out statuettes and decorations to her exhausted-looking parents, who were being helped out of a cart’s harness by the castle staff. The cart itself was another thing that drew Celestia’s attention: It was filled with more than a half dozen well-worn travel bags which all looked like they were filled to capacity. And, judging by the struggles of the ponies helping to unload the cart, probably contained the makings of a personal library for her young student.

She looked around, trying to find Sunny in the bustle that surrounded the cart. The unicorn had been her closest aide for over a decade now, and was thankfully smart enough to have made some preparations without Celestia having to ask for them. Hopefully, they had included reserving a room.

Even if Sunny had made any preparations, however, they wouldn’t help Celestia right now. Unlike the eager-looking filly, her assistant was nowhere to be found, which meant that she would have to make do with what she could come up with on the fly. Celestia hated going into any kind of situation without some sort of plan, but there was little she could do about it now.

She put on the gentlest smile in her vast repertoire and made her way towards the trio, nodding towards the parents before focusing her attention on the filly. “Hello, Twilight. Are you ready?”

“Princess!” It looked like Twilight would trip over her own legs in her haste to get to Celestia, yet she skidded to a halt right before she did. Then she dropped into a polite curtsy, which was no doubt the result of a stern lecture on proper etiquette by her parents. Or perhaps it was because Celestia once again fully looked the part of a princess, complete with all the regal adornments and golden horseshoes that entailed.

“She’s been ready for the better part of a week, Your Majesty,” Twilight’s mother replied, nudging the filly upright with a hoof. “But we managed to keep her occupied a little longer.” The mare smiled, but something about it was off. There was a hint of motherly unease; she clearly didn’t really want to let her daughter go.

“You look exhausted. If you wish, I will ask the castle staff to make you comfortable while I get Twilight situated?” Celestia proposed cautiously.

Both parents shook their heads. “We want to help her get settled,” her father replied, giving the closest staff members a grateful nod when they floated a glass of water over to him.

Her mother nodded in agreement, adding: “We can always rest once we get home.”

Celestia inclined her head slightly. “Certainly. At least allow the guards to take care of the luggage...”

A guard took the last bag from the back of the cart, struggling against the weight the moment he picked it up. He toppled over when he misplaced his legs while bracing himself, and got a giggle out of Twilight for his troubles. It made everypony smile, even the stallion himself, although his was more of a bashful one.

Celestia’s own smile lingered while she watched the guards struggling with the luggage, before eventually taking the two heaviest pieces for herself and leading the entire procession down the labyrinthine hallways of the castle. She chuckled inwardly at the frankly ridiculous amount of ponies it was taking to get Twilight’s belongings to her would-be quarters—including even herself, even though it meant falling even further behind on her schedule.

“Here we are,” she announced when they had finally made their way through the winding castle.

True to their training, most of her guards came to a halt without so much as a squeak. Only the newest recruit ran into a spot of trouble: He was dragging the bag that had toppled him around flank-first, so that he ended up bumping into one of the other guards, unaware of the fact that they had already reached their destination. At this point, the flustered stallion swiftly straightened up and stood at attention, visibly winded, whilst the others silently rolled their eyes.

Twilight herself bounded into the room with the same level of enthusiasm she had been displaying ever since her arrival, forgoing peeking her head around the corner to instead perform an enthusiastic jump right into the middle of the room so as to satisfy her curiosity instantly.

Her parents, on the other hoof, looked first at the room, then at each other, and finally at Celestia. “Excuse me, Your Majesty?” Twilight’s father began. “We were under the impression that you had planned to refit one of the old astronomy towers to serve as Twilight’s room. May I ask what happened?”

The very moment he brought it up, Celestia remembered showing them the old observatory. It had been in disuse for nearly two centuries and was a constant reminder of some particularly unpleasant events in the distant past. Having the tower redecorated as a young filly’s room would have been as much for Celestia’s benefit as it would have been for Twilight’s. But she had, of course, forgotten all about it. Not that the excessive amount of luggage they were carrying would have made a trip up to the tower a pleasant journey in the slightest... But that was immaterial. More importantly, she wasn’t about to admit to losing sight of her promise to Twilight’s parents.

“That was my original idea, yes,” she said smoothly. ”However, since I will be taking care of Twilight personally I decided it was a good idea to have her quarters be situated a little closer to my own, just in case she happens to run into any problems which she might require my help with.” She pointed to the end of the hallway, indicating a sun-emblazoned set of double doors. “My own quarters are just down the hall. So she can easily come to me with any difficulties she might encounter, be it day or night.”

Twilight’s father looked relieved, but her mother furrowed her brow and subtly nudged her husband, whispering: “Honey, could you make sure that they’re careful with the dictionary?”

The stallion looked at his wife for a moment before nodding firmly and giving her a nuzzle. “It won’t be as bad as you think, hun,” he said. ”Try to relax.”

His worried spouse nodded, albeit reluctantly, and then the two of them followed the guards into the room.

Celestia watched the exchange with a sense of growing dread. She had known couples that could convey most of their feelings with a single look, without having to utter a single word, but Twilight’s parents were on another level entirely. They seemed to be capable of having an entire conversation in the span of a few moments, their thoughts conveyed nonverbally in between the sparse few words that were actually being said.

Any moment now, she is going to turn to me and—

“Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

Here we go. Celestia plastered a masking smile on her face—one meant to convey patience and understanding, even though she had the sneaking suspicion that the coming conversation was going to serve no other purpose than to reassure an overly-concerned mother.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to ask what Twilight’s lesson plan is going to look like,” the mare said, eyeing the door to Twilight’s new room with a hint of trepidation, like she was worried something inside might somehow explode.

“I...” Celestia paused. Giving a young filly the same tests she had always given her students probably wasn’t the best of ideas, but she hadn’t yet found the time to draft new ones. Nor had she bothered to formulate any kind of lesson plan yet, for that matter. However, now that she thought about it, she realized she should probably determine what Twilight’s general level of knowledge was beforehoof, so that she could take that into consideration. “I was thinking of starting her off with some tests I usually reserve for my older students,” she finally said, opting to go with the (slightly embellished) truth. “She seems to be very curious, well-read, and certainly intelligent enough to be able to pass them without too much difficulty.”

Twilight’s mother, however, didn’t seem quite satisfied yet. “And what of her lesson plan? Please don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but I don’t think you quite understand how hard it is to keep Twilight’s mind occupied. She’s a wonderful filly, but if you’re not careful...” The mare flushed with embarrassment. “Let’s just say that she has a way of finding out about certain... things. Things you might not consider her quite ready for at the time.”

Celestia chuckled good-naturedly. “Speaking from experience? Do not worry, I have seen my fair share of bright and eager students. I will make sure to keep her occupied. Now… Was there anything else?” She waited for another question, but the other mare merely shook her head. Celestia smiled again and inclined her head towards the door. “Well then, shall we?”

She waited for the mare to enter the room and then turned to one of her guards, instructing him to find Sunny Scrolls and ask her to make whatever emergency preparations she could manage in such a short timespan. Another one she tasked with finding some reading material suitable for a young but remarkably intelligent filly. If Twilight’s mother had been right, after all, she was going to have to take steps to ensure that Twilight was kept occupied, or at the very least denied entry to some of the more potentially dangerous spell-books.

When Celestia stepped into the room, the first thing that caught her attention was Twilight Sparkle herself. The filly had clambered onto the bed and was standing at the hoof end. She had adopted a curious position, perched atop the footboard like a princess overseeing her realm. That was, if all princesses sported excited gleams in their eyes at the prospect of getting a new room.

As soon as she spotted her mother, Twilight hopped down with a huge smile on her face. “Mom, Mom, do you see how big it is?” she asked excitedly, whirling around as if she could make her see everything through her eyes merely by pointing it out.

Her mother looked at her for a moment before shaking her head and conjuring up her best smile. “Just don’t make a mess of it like you do at home, okay? And make sure you brush your teeth and listen to everything the princess says. Oh, and don’t forget to write!”

If Twilight had anything to say about her mother’s behavior, she chose not to speak her mind. Instead, she opted to bound off to find her father and so avoid any further doting.

Celestia stepped close and lightly tapped the mare’s side with a hoof, giving her a look of understanding which was swiftly repaid with a grateful smile.

The two of them walked around the bed to find Twilight, her father, and many of the guards crowded around a single bag that had caused the poor souls responsible for carrying it an inordinate amount of trouble. They had set the bag down next to the bed, and the sudden shift in weight had caused the latch to pop open. Inside of it was a single tome, whose inscription had been carefully etched into the cover and filled with golden ink. It read: The More Than Complete Mareiam-Webstar's Dictionary, Revision Date Nine Hundred and Ninety A.N.

“Jeez, what’re you planning on doing with that, little girl?” one of the guards asked, looking like his worst highschool nightmare had come to life right in front of him.

Twilight grinned. “I’m gonna read it! It’s a great way to increase your voc—voca—vocabu... something.”

“Vocabulary, sweetheart,” her father corrected her. He shared a look with his wife and then they both caught Twilight in a hug, leaving the filly struggling at the sudden attention. “Your mother and I have to go now,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. ”You be good, okay?”

Her mother tilted her head up and sighed. She had tried to postpone it as much as she could, but she had always known this moment was inevitable. She cleared her throat and drew back, smiling at her daughter. “This is it. From now on, Princess Celestia is the one looking out for you." Her lips began to tremble and she levitated a tissue up to her face to wipe away the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "Listen to everything she tells you, sweetheart. Study hard, make good choices... Write to us every week.” She gave Twilight a kiss on the top of her head, seemingly finished with her last-minute lecture, but ultimately couldn’t resist adding: ”Oh, and don’t forget what I told you about staying up late!”

“Mooom,” Twilight whined, hiding her face in her father’s chest. Sadly, even this failed to fully conceal the embarrassed blush that quickly reached all the way up to her ears.

“We’re proud of you sweetheart, and we’ll miss you,” her father added, patting her on the back before he, too, let go.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Twilight replied, drying her mother’s tears with a gentle swipe of her foreleg and following it up with a nuzzle for the both of them.

Celestia cleared her throat, and at her unspoken command all of the guards left the room quietly. She followed them out, waiting in the hallway to give the soon-to-be-parted family some privacy.

A few minutes later, Twilight’s parents came out of the room. They were visibly struggling with their feelings. Celestia had a good notion of what they were going through; they were sending their daughter away, to live outside of the home she had grown up in... And at such a young age, too.

She beckoned one of her guards and quietly ordered him to make sure they got home safely.

Twilight’s mother surprised her by lifting one of Celestia’s hooves with her own. “W-will you take good care of her, Princess?”

Celestia nodded solemnly. “You have my word.”

They exchanged goodbyes and then the two unicorns left, after which Celestia stepped back into the room.

Most of the heavy bags had already been relocated haphazardly around the room. The dictionary, however, was still sitting next to the bed, looking more like a bedside table than anything, whereas the rest of Twilight’s belongings littered the floor, the bed, and even the desk on the opposite side of the room.

Celestia watched as Twilight stuffed a few more of her own books into the bookcases, putting them in between the historical documents and cultural reference guides with which they were already stocked. The filly was using her mouth and hooves in lieu of her magic to accomplish this, though, which struck Celestia as more than a bit odd.

The moment she realized that Celestia had stepped back into the room, Twilight whirled around to beam at her. “I’m ready to begin with my lessons, Princess!”

She walked over to one of the smaller bags and opened it. Much like the rest of her luggage, this one was mostly filled with books. However, it also contained a finely-carved oaken chest, some toiletries, a soft yellow dress with a blue trim, and what appeared to be a rather patchy-looking doll.

Twilight picked up the small chest and set it aside, before taking out a single book that looked a lot like the one Celestia had given her two weeks prior.

“I finished the book,” she said, giving Celestia a bright smile while puffing out her chest—both of which quickly vanished when all Celestia did was to give her a dumbfounded look. “That’s, uh... That’s okay, right?”

Celestia’s jaw dropped in bewilderment, which was a novelty in and of itself. After the events of two weeks ago, she had actually expected it to take at least a year before she might be caught off-guard by anything again. Things like shock, amazement and wonderment become rare occurrences when one has passed four thousand years of age, after all.

She chuckled, reveling in the feeling, which had the added benefit of reassuring Twilight as well. “Of course that’s okay, Twilight. I’m just... surprised.” She took the book with her magic and handed it off to one of the remaining guards, who had discretely positioned themselves just outside the room. “In all honesty, I had not expected you to finish that particular tome for at least another month.”

Twilight’s smile returned with a vengeance and she made a joyous little hop. “Oh! Oh! Do you like books, too, Princess?” She raced back to her bag and carefully extracted another book from it with her teeth, before running over and carefully depositing it in front of Celestia, who leaned down to read the cover with interest.

“Daring Do?”

Twilight nodded emphatically. “She’s the greatest explorer that ever lived! In this book, she discovers the ancient temples of Mare’zhul, uncovers the secrets of the Icans, and finds the lost city of Iwanthis!” She nosed the book open and leafed through it, showing off several pictures that offered panoramic views of various exotic locales. “I’m going to be just like her when I grow up!”

Celestia watched the filly happily browsing through the book for a while, but spoke up before the filly could lose herself in its pages. “Twilight?”

As it turned out, though, she was a little late: Twilight had already managed to become engrossed in the book, enthusiastically trying to find all the best pictures and sentences to show to her mentor. It took quite a few moments—with only a single ear flicking in Celestia’s general direction—and a healthy dose of willpower for her to actually tear herself away from her reading and look her mentor in the eyes.

“Um, yes, Princess?”

“I’m curious... I haven’t seen you use your horn even once since you arrived. Is something wrong with your magic?” Celestia gestured at the filly’s horn as she spoke, making the latter cross her eyes in an attempt to look at it.

Twilight shook her head and blinked a couple of times to get her eyesight back to normal. “No, Princess. My mother just told me that I shouldn’t use magic until you taught me how to control it.”

“It’s perfectly alright for you to use your magic, Twilight. It’s highly unlikely that whatever happened to you two weeks ago will happen again.” Celestia put a reassuring hoof on Twilight’s back and smiled at her. “Just take it easy at first. Magic is like a muscle: If you don’t use it for a while, it will take some time for it to get going again.”

“But you can’t be sure,” Twilight said with a frown. “What if everything goes wrong, like before, and I end up hurting somepony again?” She shook her head and went back to staring at her book. “Maybe it would be better if I just don’t use magic at all anymore...”

“Twilight...” Celestia sat down next to her young student. “If you never use your magic again, then how can I ever teach you some of the more advanced spells, like the ones in that book I gave you?” Her horn lit up, and she conjured up a miniature pony that promptly began walking around on the open book between them, looking very much like the explorer described therein. “Or show you all of the wonderful things you could do with illusions? Or explain the method behind teleportation, like you asked me to?”

For the briefest of moments Twilight looked up, her eyes alight with the same boundless eagerness with which she had tackled the book Celestia had given her. Then the shadow of doubt set in and she averted her gaze, looking at the floor, the book, the bed... Anywhere but at her mentor.

Celestia watched the troubled filly shrinking away, burdened as she was by doubt and fear. She had intended to dangle a few carrots, to make Twilight reconsider and hopefully conclude that everything would be okay if the princess said so.

But alas, that simple strategy had backfired spectacularly.

Twilight’s shoulders slumped. She uttered the next sentence so softly that Celestia had to strain to hear it: “So... So I can’t be your student anymore?”

She looked so lost and forlorn, in stark contrast to the excited cheerfulness she had displayed upon entering the castle. Celestia wanted to drape a wing around her and tell her that they would work on it together, that everything would be fine, that—

“Ahem. Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

Celestia looked up to see another one of her attendants waiting in the doorway. He was holding a stack of papers with his magic. Behind him, several other ponies were also all impatiently waiting to inform their princess of the latest developments.

Stifling a groan, Celestia waved the lot of them off to the hallway with a shooing gesture, then turned back to Twilight. She couldn’t very well drape a wing over the poor filly now, she knew—however much she wanted to. It was too intimate a gesture, one meant to be shared solely between close friends or members of family. She was neither. To make matters worse, it had become abundantly clear that she had already spent far too much time getting her young student situated. There was a lot on the agenda today, and her advisors wouldn’t remain quietly waiting on the other side of that door forever.

“Don’t be silly, Twilight,“ she said at length, smiling disarmingly. ”Of course you can still be my student! In fact, why don’t I give you your first test right now? We’ll worry about whether or not your magic is truly dangerous later on, okay?”

Twilight nodded morosely. She turned to Celestia, though she seemed unable to keep herself from stealing the occasional, longing glance at the diminutive Daring Do still merrily prancing across the pages.

“Follow me, then.”

Celestia waited for the filly to get up before stepping out of the room. The gaggle of attendants loitering just outside the room had already swelled to even greater numbers, and judging by all the hopping up and down that was going on, all of the messages they bore were equally and gravely important. Even so, when the most forward pony among them opened his mouth to inform her of the latest, crucial developments in the agricultural sector, she silenced him with a look.

Giving her youngest student a much-needed boost of self-confidence with one of the older, easier tests she had created long ago, she decided, was now her top priority.

Twilight needed this. She needed her...

They made their way through the castle to a classroom which Celestia and a previous student had used often in the past, but which had since fallen into disrepair. That had been three centuries ago; by this time, it served as little more than a glorified storage room.

During their trip, Twilight seemed to regain some of her spark and was soon taking in the hustle and bustle of castle life with a wide-eyed look of pure wonder.

Officially, Celestia was the only pony who lived in the castle. Unofficially, however, she had decided that it was far too vast—not to mention lonely—for her to be all by herself. Which was why, for as long as any mortal pony could remember, the enormous structure had served as a home for more than a hundred families, all of whom were in service to the Crown in some form or another. The hallways never grew as crowded as the streets outside the castle, true, but neither were they ever completely empty. Ponies came and went from the dining halls, gardens and countless workplaces with remarkable regulartiy.

Twilight looked at it all with a nearly palpable sense of wonder. “Princess?”

It took Celestia a moment to respond. She was already rapt in contemplation again, trying to decide which tasks to delegate and to determine how to best handle Twilight’s education, leaving her body to move itself toward her destination purely on auto-pilot. She looked down at the filly walking beside her and abruptly slowed her pace, finally noticing that Twilight was having trouble keeping up.

“What is it, Twilight?”

“Why are there so many ponies around here?” the filly asked, nearly stumbling over her own legs when she tried to point out one of countless small groups of conversing ponies.

Celestia chuckled softly. “They live here, Twilight,” she said, using an almost imperceptibly subtle flow of magic to help the filly stay upright. “Just like you, from now on.”

“Oh.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Twilight, who immediately went back to quietly observing the castle’s many denizens, most of whom bowed for the princess as they passed.

At least, until the next question inevitably spilled out of her mouth: “Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Where are we going?”

“Well,” Celestia began, coming to a halt and lowering her head so that it was roughly on equal level with Twilight, “we are going to an old classroom that hasn’t been used in a long time, where you’ll be able to take the test I mentioned without anypony disturbing you.”

Twilight nodded in understanding—just long enough for the next question to make the trip from her brain down to her mouth. “Where is it?”

Celestia righted herself and resumed walking. “You’ll see when we get there.”

A short while later, they arrived at a visibly more ancient part of the castle; its hallways weren’t populated by nearly as many ponies. Twilight even came across a few spider webs... And in the most unfortunate way, too, walking straight into them and then having to stop to pluck them from her face.

Celestia herself either didn’t notice the mess or simply didn’t care, quite unlike the stubborn attendants and advisors still trailing them, one of whom fled to go find a group of maids (and possibly the Royal Guard) the moment she spotted a spider in one of said webs. The princess came up to a plain wooden door, which swung open under the influence of her magic to reveal, primarily, quite a lot of dust. Once that had settled, rows upon rows of haphazardly stacked books could be seen, dominating the entirety of the room that lay beyond, giving it the appearance of a chaotic library more than anything.

Celestia looked at the room for a full minute before turning to the closest of her loyal aides. “Broad Strokes, could you please see to it that this room is properly cleaned, and that all the books within are relocated to my personal chambers?”

“But Princess! It is vitally important that—”

Celestia held up a hoof. “Cultural funding for schools will not be cut.”

The flabbergasted stallion opened his mouth, then closed it again. “It will be taken care of, Princess,” he said with a bow, before hastily taking off.

Celestia slipped on her most benevolent smile; she was clearly going to need it to deal with the small army that had only grown in numbers behind them on the way here. Half of them she was able to appease with some quickfire answers before they’d even had time to ask their all-too-familiar and often tedious questions, but the rest, sadly, were clearly not going to be so easily dismissed.

Before she got started with them, however, she first turned to Twilight. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I fear this is going to take me a little while to… to…”

The spot where she was certain she had seen Twilight sit down upon reaching the old, abandoned classroom was empty. Celestia looked around in confusion, but couldn’t find the filly anywhere. At least, until a tiny sneeze from inside the room told her exactly where the curious little scamp had gotten off to.

“Twilight?” she called into the room, a genuine smile now tugging at the corners of her lips.

There was another sneeze. A few seconds later, a dust monster only vaguely resembling her student came tumbling out of the debris, stirring up entire clouds of the stuff. Celestia quickly erected a shield to contain it inside the room, although she saw to it that Twilight (and all the grime clinging to her coat) got through just fine.

Celestia was thoroughly entertained by Twilight’s antics, though the same could not be said for the majority of her advisors, who turned their noses up at mere sight of this walking hygienic disaster.

Twilight herself seemed to agree with them; she scrunched up her face, dancing on the spot whilst squeaking: “Ew-eww-ewww!”

Luckily, her discomfort didn’t last long, as Broad Strokes chose that exact moment to return. Following him was a veritable battalion of maids, which descended on Twilight like a flock of hungry vultures. When they had finished, her coat was completely drenched, her hair was hanging around her face like wet rags, and even her horn had been left with a soap bubble dangling from it.

With that out of the way, the tireless maids lined up in single file and marched into the classroom, dusters firmly in hoof. The last one slammed the door shut behind them.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Celestia asked her squeaky-clean student with an amused smile.

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but instead of words, her mouth produced only hiccups and the occasional soap bubble. She coughed into her hoof a few times and then shook out her coat, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. Finally, she parted the curtain of dripping mane obscuring her face. “Uh… Not really, Princess.”

Celestia smiled. “Not to worry, Twilight. Once the maids have finished cleaning up the place, we’ll give you something to do.”

She left Twilight to wring herself out a bit more and turned to her remaining followers, answering questions and giving out orders which mostly pertained to day-to-day life in the castle. She found herself hiding a frown upon realizing just how many ponies relied on her to make even the simplest of decisions.

I should have streamlined all of this long ago...

Before long, the maids returned from their labors in the classroom. They marched out, once again, in single file, like a company of weary soldiers after an extended mission. Their coats had taken on a distinctly greyish tint, they carried buckets full of murky water with them, and their dusters were worn from extended use. As a result of their efforts, the room left behind was hardly even still recognizable to Twilight, who had scrambled to her hooves and run back inside as soon as she was allowed to.

Celestia herself followed a few minutes later. By that time, she had dealt with every last question her restless attendants had so anxiously wanted to ask of her.

Once inside, she found Twilight on the floor, sporting a disappointed frown. Celestia understood; she imagined that the eager little unicorn’s high hopes were probably crumbling at the disappointingly mundane sight of a room filled with nothing but student benches, a blackboard, and a single lectern, rather than the fabulous magical artifacts ponies so often claimed she had stashed away for use by only those closest to her.

“Not what you expected?” she inquired, giving the filly a soft nudge with her hoof.

Twilight shook her head, however, darting over to sit down in the foremost student bench. She was still looking around though, seemingly trying to find something out of the ordinary with the room around her.

Celestia calmly walked over to the teacher’s lectern, which was, in fact, very old—the wood had grayed to the point where nothing short of a fresh coat of paint would be able to salvage it. She opened the compartment in the back and took out an old written test, which she recalled administering to another student of hers once upon a time, long ago. He hadn’t been as young as Twilight, obviously, but she figured the intelligent little pony would be able to handle it, even if the archaic terminology might give her some trouble.

Unfortunately, the ancient document disintegrated the moment Celestia applied pressure with her magic.

She cursed under her breath and glanced nervously at Twilight. By some stroke of luck, the filly hadn’t been paying attention, as she was still trying to figure out if there really weren’t any hidden magical properties to her surroundings. Quickly then, Celestia wove a spell to summon forth a more recent—albeit also somewhat more advanced—test from the main library.

Originally, her hope had been that, if she somehow managed to answer all of her attendants’ questions quickly enough, she would have the time to oversee Twilight taking the test, allowing her to offer her assistance should the filly run into any trouble—providing, of course, that she found the right questions to ask.

However, as with everything that day, it seemed like the universe was actively conspiring to keep her off-balance.

The very last pony in the throng had been the guard she had sent to fetch Sunny Scrolls; he had told her that her presence was required in the courtroom post-haste, as the scheduled hearing on the magical explosion from two weeks prior was still pending. This left Celestia with little choice... In all likelihood, this particular test would prove far too difficult for poor Twilight; she knew that. But at least it would keep her occupied for a spell, while Celestia went off to take care of whatever everypony thought was so darned important...

“Ah, here we are,” she said, drawing Twilight’s attention back to herself. She levitated the sizable stack of papers out from behind the lectern and set it down in front of the filly, before conjuring up a quill and jar of ink for her to use. “This will be your first official test, Twilight Sparkle. Please take your time and read everything carefully. You have until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Twilight asked, somewhat nervously, her eyes flitting from their eager analysis of the first page of her assignment to a thorough scan of Celestia’s face in but an instant.

Celestia let out a soft sigh. She was already running late and Twilight’s constant questions certainly weren’t making things any easier. But still, she managed to slip on the mask again, smiling benignly and looking down at her rightfully-worried student.

“There are many ponies who require my attention, Twilight. I’m afraid I cannot simply abandon them because you are taking an evaluation test.”

Twilight nodded, though her eyes stayed fixed on Celestia, the stack of papers remaining momentarily neglected in favor of her continued attempts to gauge her enigmatic mentor’s mood. “O-okay, Princess.” A hesitant pause followed, and then: ”But, um, will you be back soon?”

“It will take as long as it will take, which I fear might be quite a while.” She noted Twilight’s frown and patted the first page with a hoof to draw her attention back to her assignment “I will be back before you know it. You just worry about this test!”

Her horn lit up, glowing with the ethereal energies required for your basic emergency teleportation spell... But then Celestia reconsidered and halted mid-cast.

“Think of it this way, Twilight,” she added as an afterthought, smiling widely, “the longer it takes me to return, the more time you will have.”

Despite the convenience of being able to appear wherever she wished at any given time, teleportation wasn’t by far Celestia’s preferred way to travel. It was simply too flashy; since the magical requirements made it impossible for all but the most powerful unicorns to cast, making use of it always drew far more attention to her mostly-hidden power than she would like.

When she was this short on time, however, there were few alternatives.

Getting Twilight situated, waiting for the maids, the little mishap with the first test... It had all cost her far more time than she would have liked. Even so, Celestia had hoped that taking the most direct route to the courtroom imaginable would have given her a precious few minutes extra to prepare some appropriate retorts to the accusations she would no doubt have to deal with. But those hopes had been dashed the moment she had materialized: The entire room was filled to the brim with ponies, from the most prominent teachers at her School for Gifted Unicorns to a large number of fearful Canterlot residents she hadn’t even known existed until now. All of them looking at her in awe.

Celestia sat down heavily, immediately regretting her rash decision to teleport in. She spared a brief thought to the whereabouts of her council, who should have been here answering questions but were once again nowhere to be seen. Then she let out a soft sigh, contorting her face into a pleasant smile again.

It was going to be a long, long day.

Her practiced, well-worn smile only barely held against the cacophony that followed. Everypony in the room seemed to have taken her sudden arrival as the go-ahead to begin giving their varied opinions about the event that had transpired. Apparently, it had put Canterlot as a whole on edge far worse than she could have ever predicted.

While her faithful guards tried to secure some silence, Celestia herself struggled to resist the urge to press a hoof to her face. Instead she ended up holding it aloft in a commanding gesture, waiting until the room had quieted down a little before speaking: “My dear little ponies! Your Princess understands that you all have concerns, and you may rest assured that I will address each and every one of them. But please, await your turn.”

The crowd responded, of course, by launching into another screaming match with each other.

This time, Celestia’s hoof actually did reach her face.

By the time Celestia had finished explaining how she had taken steps to prevent any further disturbing events from occurring in future and the crowd had finally begun to disperse, it was almost sundown. Utterly drained, she ordered the number of guards on duty throughout Canterlot to be doubled, wanting to make sure that nopony tried anything senseless.

Once that had been settled, it was only a few minutes before it was time for her to set the sun. But at least Celestia could finally let out the weary sigh she had been saving up this entire time, and, at long last, lose the phony, magnanimous smile she had been wearing for hours on end.

She smacked her lips and allowed herself a small, satisfied smile—a real one this time.

All done, and with time to spare! I should hope for more days like these.

She stepped down from the throne and flexed her wings briefly, before taking off toward her private chambers. She had managed to create a little free time for herself, after all, and she was going to take advantage of that fact. Perhaps some tea would be in order… And a few moments spent in the company of a good book probably wouldn’t hurt her, either.

Indeed, Celestia had very nearly convinced herself that she would finally be allowed some time to relax—right until Sunny Scrolls fell into step beside her.

“Your Majesty?”

“Sunny, I just spent several hours fruitlessly telling ponies things they should already know,” Celestia cut her assistant off, keeping up an even pace and continuing to make her way to her chambers. ”To be perfectly honest, I currently have no desire whatsoever to discuss tomorrow’s schedule.”

“That wasn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Princess.” The unicorn levitated her trusty clipboard in front of Celestia’s face. It featured a long list of responsibilities and an equally lengthy line of check-marks. “You have completed your schedule in record time today, but, from what the guards have been telling me, I fear Your Highness has forgotten about one very important thing.”

“Everything on here appears to be checked off and completed,” Celestia replied, still a little agitated by her grilling at the hooves of her very own school’s administrators and staff. “The only way I could have possibly forgotten something would be if that something was, for some mysterious reason, not on this list. So tell me, is there something that’s not on the list?”

“As a matter of fact, yes there is,” Sunny fired back without missing a beat. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say somepony. She’s purple, about yey high—” She drew a line in the air with her magic “—and has been anxiously awaiting your return since this morning.”

Celestia stared at her, uncomprehending, for exactly three seconds. Then a feeling of abject dread crept up her spine, the full meaning of Sunny’s words finally hitting her. “Twilight!” she blurted out, coming to an immediate halt. “See me in my chambers in an hour,” the blurry after-image of a teleporting Celestia instructed Sunny before bursting into flames, leaving the ‘we have a lot to discuss’ hanging unsaid in the air.

Despite the inherent flashiness which she so loathed, teleportation could be very convenient when one was running late—incredibly late—for a meeting. Or, in this case, when one had a classroom containing an abandoned and utterly forgotten filly to get to in a hurry.

After appearing at her destination, Celestia had expected to either be assaulted by a whole lot of whining, or to find the classroom as empty as it had been for the last three hundred years. Instead, she found Twilight still sitting in the student benches where she had left her. The filly was snoring lightly, her head resting on an impressive stack of scrolls which was currently serving to absorb the drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

Celestia smiled wryly, lifting up both the papers and the filly with her magic and gently transporting them to the door.

Judging by the sheer amount of paper Twilight had used, she could only conclude that the her new pupil must have somehow managed to complete the test—and then some. The little pang of disappointment she experienced upon skimming through the fruits of the filly’s labors and finding that most of the answers she had provided were, in fact, wrong was quickly drowned out by more self-berating thoughts.

It is a miracle she even understood a fraction of the magical terminology used. You should be proud she even got this far.

She stepped into the hallway and carefully lowered Twilight onto her back, then set off for Twilight’s room, trying not to jostle her peacefully-snoozing charge too much.

For the second time that day, the two guards who normally flanked her at all times came galloping down the hallway, having correctly guessed where she had teleported off to. She smiled apologetically and waited for them to catch their breath a little, taking the opportunity to look through the rest of Twilight’s test results.

If nothing else, the unicorn’s answers were all very well thought out.

One of the guards opened his mouth, likely to ask what the rush had been. She quickly shushed him, turning sideways and showing him the sleeping filly. Fortunately, he took the hint, and the two stallions quietly fell into step behind her while she walked the rest of the way to Twilight’s new room.

Twilight mewled piteously when she was lifted from the source of the warmth she had been resting against and squirmed when her body hit the bed, voicing her displeasure with a low whine. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked sleepily, looking around in confusion at her new surroundings. Then she bolted upright.

“What time is it?”

“It is nearly sunset,” Celestia answered her with a small smile. Rather than smiling back, however, she could see Twilight’s eyes filling with fear.

“I’m sorry!” Twilight said quickly, tripping over her own words. “I was almost done! I was just—I need a little more time!”

“You’ve already had more time than you were supposed to, Twilight.” Celestia’s smile faded and she sighed. “That was partially my fault, but nevertheless... Your time is officially up.”

Twilight let her face drop, her ears pinning themselves to her skull. “Please don’t take my magic away...”

Hearing the note of fear in Twilight’s voice hurt. Not only did it show how afraid the young unicorn really was, but it also made it abundantly clear that all of that fear was directed squarely at Celestia herself.

Celestia swallowed heavily and took a deep breath, before putting what she hoped was a comforting hoof on Twilight’s back. “What makes you think I would take your magic away, Twilight?”

“That’s why you gave me that test, isn’t it?” Twilight cried. ”I failed, and now you’ve determined that I will never be good enough.” She shied away from Celestia’s hoof and curled up, trying to protect herself from all manner of threats, real or imagined. “But you already knew, right? That’s why you left...”

That, more than anything, shocked Celestia. From everything she had seen of Twilight Sparkle so far, she would have probably concluded that she was a lot like the other fillies attending her School for Gifted Unicorns: Brighter than the average unicorn, perhaps, but young and naive enough that they generally had very little concept of how the world really worked, and unconcerned with anything beyond their grades and their social standing.

Celestia pulled Twilight forward with a simple spell, watching sympathetically as she struggled feebly against the telekinetic aura.

“Twilight, it’s okay,” Celestia said reassuringly, but the filly only struggled harder the closer she came to the edge of the bed. “Twilight? Please calm down.”

The struggling stopped, and so did the crying, for the most part. Twilight looked up at her pleadingly and asked, “Is it going to hurt?”

“Of course not, Twilight. I couldn’t take your magic away even if I wanted to.”

Twilight blinked. “You can’t? But Professor Brighthoof said—”

“He is wrong,” Celestia growled, rueing the day she hired the tactless stallion. Brighthoof was going to get a ‘promotion’ to a teaching position near the northern borders, she decided, or at least be forced to take a few serious sensitivity courses. “If I were to try such a thing, I would much sooner vaporize somepony than ever ‘burn out’ their magic, as ponies keep insisting I am capable of.” As soon as those words left her mouth, Celestia mentally cursed herself, seeing Twilight’s eyes go wide with renewed fear. She quickly shushed the filly before she had a chance to begin panicking again: “No, no, I’m not going to do anything except maybe take another look at how you performed on the test, Twilight.”

The test in question resembled an inky battlefield. Out of all two hundred and three questions Twilight had only gotten about a dozen or so correct, though that wasn’t really what was so surprising. What did surprise her was that, even though the answers themselves were wrong and the underlying grasp of the theory was shaky at best, many of her writings showed a deep, almost instinctual understanding of the practical application of magic. Twilight, it seemed, had more natural affinity for spellcasting than some of the best mages Celestia had known in her time.

“But I wasn’t finished...” Twilight said sullenly, her initial fear slowly giving way to pure disappointment. She dropped to her hooves when Celestia canceled her spell and promptly plopped down on the spot.

“That’s alright, Twilight. I couldn’t really expect you to finish all of it.” Celestia put the filly back on the bed before summoning a small booklet. “For now, I want you to have this.”

Twilight’s horn glowed for a second before she caught herself and reached out with her hooves instead. “What is it?”

“It is an instruction booklet. It was written by a former professor of the school and widely distributed in order to explain to Pegasi and Earth Ponies why magic isn’t something to be feared. Of course, back then, things were a little more hectic, since every noble wanted me to, um...”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Twilight silently mouthing words as she read through the first page. Well. That went well, all things considered.

“Princess?” Celestia hadn’t even turned around before Twilight spoke up. “What language is this?”

“Hm? I don’t believe it was ever printed in anything but Equestrian… Let me see.” She took the booklet from Twilight and leafed through it, quickly realizing what the problem was. Equestrian was an ever-evolving language, of course, and the archaic wordings used in this particular book must have seemed indecipherable to a young, modern pony like Twilight. “Ah...” She cleared her throat and gave Twilight a somewhat sheepish smile as she sent the book back to the dusty bookcase from whence it had come. “Forget about it, then. How about you just… go to bed early today? We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Do I have to?” Twilight asked, a soft whine slipping into her voice. “I wanted to read another chapter of my Daring Do book.”

She pranced on over to the other side of the bed, reaching out to grab a book from the nearest bookcase.

Celestia winced when Twilight misjudged the distance, and face-planted inches away from the book she’d been trying to grab. She was up and about again in seconds though, the youthful resilience all fillies share helping her shrug off injuries that most adults would find incapacitating.

On the second try, Twilight managed to pick up the Daring Do book with her teeth. Then she climbed back onto the bed and dropped it in front of Celestia.

“In this book, she’s been sent by the handsome prince Solaris to find the long lost artifact of—“ She paused, blinked, and looked up from the cover of the book to Celestia. “Why are there always so many ‘long lost’ artifacts? Wouldn’t ponies be very protective of something that’s valuable? And what about—”

The droning sound of Twilight’s transparent stalling tactic faded to the background as the sun softly tugged at Celestia’s thoughts, letting her know that she was once again late for sunset. It was an altogether far too common occurrence, and definitely not something she was happy with.

Her charges tended to be adamant about the times she helped them rise and set, even if she had other things on her mind at the time. Like getting a good night’s rest...

“Twilight.” Celestia’s voice was calm and gentle, but authoritative.

The filly in question promptly stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.

“Remember what your mother said.” Celestia lifted both her and the book to the top of the bed and tucked her in. “Good night, my student. I will see you again in the morning.”

Twilight sat pouting beneath the covers; she had no intention of going quietly. When Celestia turned around and walked to the door, she threw off the covers and sat up in bed. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to go set the sun,” Celestia explained, ”and then worry about my evening duties.”

She came to a halt when a purple filly who looked suspiciously like the one she had just tucked in suddenly appeared next to the doorpost. A swift and bewildered glance backward confirmed that these two fillies were, indeed, the very same.

“Can I watch you set the sun?”

The alicorn closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to think of what she would’ve done in this situation a few hundreds years back, only to remember that she had never actually had a student this young and impetuous. Simply telling her to go to bed wouldn’t work, that much was clear… In the end, she decided to settle things as she would in a diplomatic dispute.

“If you promise that you’ll go straight to bed afterwards, you can come with me and watch the sun set.”

“I promise,” Twilight said quickly, nodding enthusiastically before skipping out the door.

Celestia followed, but found a sheepish and uncertain filly waiting for her outside. She indicated the direction they were supposed to be going in with a subtle nod of her head, and then followed the bouncing little pony ahead of her to the balcony where she usually went through the process of setting the sun. The bounciness ran out quickly, however, being replaced by a happy canter a short while after the first flight of stairs. A few more of those, and what remained was more of a sluggish trot.

After spotting Twilight trying to stifle a yawn before they had even reached the balcony, she shook her head, a small smile playing around her lips. “Perhaps this was too much for you after all, Twilight.”

“No!” Twilight replied, “I’m no—” She had to stop talking to hide yet another yawn behind her foreleg “—not tired at all!”

Unceremoniously picking the filly up by the scruff of her neck, Celestia wordlessly deposited her onto her back, between her wings, leaving her to hang on for dear life whilst she increased her pace.

Sunset was already late enough as it was; the pressure the sun was exerting on the back of her mind was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

When they reached the top floor of the Tower of Royals, the guards fell back, taking up their traditional positions at the top of the stairs while Celestia made her way up to the balcony. Her horn lit up as soon as she came to a halt, reaching out to both the sun and the moon with her power, willing the former to set while the latter rose.

It was a sight to behold: With the sun setting as quickly as it did, it felt like a single vast shadow swept over all the lands, covering everything with pitch-black darkness in an instant. Then the moon rose, taking away that darkness and replacing it with the silvery light of its gentle glow. It was a wonderful moment to experience, and even more wonderful to be the one that brought it all about.

The moment didn’t last, though. It never did.

Every night when she raised the moon, Celestia was forced to see the same haunting image of a mare imprinted on the moon. And every night she cried, lamenting the many mistakes she had made. It was like that face stared straight into her soul; an ever-present reminder of everything she had lost.

Nopony knew of her tears. For generations, she had instructed her guards to give her some privacy whenever she set the sun, to the point where it had become ingrained in their training. Being alone was both a curse and a blessing: Having ponies see their Princess cry wouldn’t be good for morale, after all, but sometimes... Sometimes, maybe just once, she wished that somepony would be there to comfort her.

She was brought out of her state of sadness by a pair of tiny hooves, which wrapped around her neck from behind.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” a small voice filled genuine concern asked of her. “Why are you crying?”

Celestia sniffled and took a deep breath, burying her emotions. “I... I’m fine, Twilight. And I think it’s about time we get you to bed.”

She received a nuzzle to the back of her head for her trouble. The hugging didn’t let up either.

“It’s okay to cry, Princess. My mom always says that you feel better afterwards.”

Maybe it was just the fact that she had somepony with her—somepony who wouldn’t judge. Maybe it was because of Twilight’s assurances that it would make her feel better. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that she was being hugged, which was an act of intimacy and trust she hadn’t experienced in over a thousand years. Whatever the cause was, the emotional dams Celestia had so carefully constructed over the years finally ruptured and broke, letting everything spill out.

Her entire body trembled, and she let out a cry of anguish. Her legs gave way, buckling beneath her as all of her built-up stress hit her all at once, making it impossible for her to remain standing.

Celestia lay down on the cool marble of the balcony and sobbed.

Twilight hopped off and walked around her, sitting down in front of the much larger mare and giving her a nuzzle beneath her chin, trying to provide some manner of comfort.

She couldn’t know that she was helping the world's most powerful ruler through a heartache that spanned a thousand years.

She wanted to ask what could possibly make the princess this sad, but held her tongue. Right now, she knew, Celestia simply needed somepony to hold and comfort her, so that’s what she would do. She let the alicorn cry, trying to help the only way she knew how, imitating what her own mother—and, more recently, Celestia herself—had done for her, employing a mixture of soft nuzzling, gentle hugging, and lots of reassuring cooing.

They stayed there together much longer than it normally took Celestia to set the sun. One of the guards reluctantly came to check up on them, but was waved away with a wing before he could even open his mouth to ask.

When Celestia’s tears had finally subsided, she wrapped a leg around Twilight and whispered a soft ‘thank you’ into the filly’s ears.

The filly responded with a soft snore, earning her a wan smile.

“Good night, Twilight Sparkle.”

Not Quite an Average Morning

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Celestia awoke to nothing more than a soft but insistent pressure tugging at the base of her horn: It was time for the sun to rise. With the blanket drowsiness still clouding her mind, she yawned and twisted her neck every which way, trying to work out some of the stiffness that snuck in every time she slept upright while idly wondering why she had fallen asleep on the balcony.

Save for the tension in her neck, she felt well and truly rested for the first time in centuries. More than that, she felt... unhurried and relaxed. Without the almost obsessive need to keep herself busy. She surveyed the land below her, looking out over the fields and the forests, and listening to the sounds of the night that her sister would almost certainly have appreciated. The world looked and sounded she felt: Sleepy and peaceful.

All of that drowsy gentleness she appreciated would come to an end the moment she raised the sun, however, and she chuckled softly at the irony. She rolled her neck one last time and got up, feeling the brisk morning winds ruffle her feathers as she spread and flexed her wings, looking to work out the same morning stiffness there.

Another sound made itself known; a soft whine and accompanying shiver that originated from a small purple ball of fuzz at her feet as it curled in on itself. Twilight’s complaints against the absence of the comfortable warmth she had been resting against made Celestia smile, in spite of their purpose. To compensate for her slight, she sat back down and drew the snoozing filly closer with a wing before depositing her between her own hooves, which immediately put an end to further complaints.

Despite her student’s protests, it was time for morning to arrive. Celestia yawned once more, shaking her head to remove the last vestiges of sleep before reaching out to touch the sun with her magic A second yawn echoed her own, followed by a small, sleepy muzzle nuzzling against her chest.

She released the sun and let her magic diffuse into the air around her, making it shimmer lightly. Raising the sun would mean the start of a new day and all the hurrying that came with it, at least until she got her scheduling problems dealt with, and unlike the one on paper, item one on her mental agenda was snuggling close to her chest. Twilight needed to know that her magic, powerful as it was, was not something to be feared; and Celestia figured that she had just the thing.

A gentle nudge from a muzzle did little to return Twilight to the land of the living, and neither did shaking her with a hoof. For a second Celestia toyed with the idea of shaking the filly awake with her magic, but better judgement won out and instead she nudged her young student again. “Twilight? It’s time to wake up.”

Twilight barely responded, raising her head only to briefly look around, rubbing her eyes and yawning again. “Can’t be mornin’ yet, sun’s not up,” she mumbled before crawling back into the warm comfortable spot between Celestia’s legs and making an effort to recapture her dreams.

Celestia was astonished. In theory, her word was law across the entirety of Equestria, and even though ponies sometimes questioned the commands she gave them, nopony had ever outright refused her; but now she had been blown off by the smallest of fillies. The thought made her laugh, even though it probably shouldn’t have, but she’d had little to laugh about in far too long. Two purple irises looked up at her in sleepy confusion, and Celestia answered with a smile. “Very well, Twilight,” she said, still chuckling softly. “I guess seeing me raise the sun from up close isn’t as interesting to the youth as it once was.”

It took less than a second for the words to reach Twilight’s ears, five before her lethargic brain realised their meaning, and a mere instant for the filly to be on her hooves, nearly goring Celestia with her small horn in the process. “I get to watch you raise the sun?" she asked excitedly, trotting in place with a huge smile.

With her purpose as makeshift bed discontinued, Celestia rose to her hooves as well, giving the filly an amicable nod. “Yes, you do. And perhaps you could even help me.”

For a moment it looked like Twilight would explode with excitement; her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and she trembled from horn to tail, a suppressed squeal making itself master of her vocal cords.

“However,” Celestia continued, putting a disappointed smile on her face. “Only ponies with magic can help me raise the sun.”

“I have magic!” Twilight all but cheered, hopping around in little circles as she imagined herself putting the big ball of flames in the sky.

“Oh?” Celestia stepped up towards the railing and looked back at the filly over her shoulder. “I was under the impression that you were never going to use magic again?”

The hopping came to a halt mid-jump and the smile fled Twilight’s face in a hurry, leaving her looking like she had just swallowed a particularly sour grape. “Oh... yeah...”

“Twilight...” Celestia sighed and beckoned the filly over with a small motion of her wing. Even with all her smarts, Twilight was apparently too afraid to have her cake and eat it too, even if there was virtually no way things could go wrong. Another approach was in order. “Twilight, have you ever tried to look directly at the sun?” Celestia asked when the filly sat down next to her.

“I’ve tried to,” came the meek reply, Twilight hanging her head like she had gotten caught stealing cookies, “but it hurt, so I looked away… sorry.”

Celestia merely nodded. “There is no need to apologise, Twilight. Looking directly at the sun can be dangerous. There is too much light for your eyes to handle which can damage them if you look at it for too long.” Her headache spiked and she rubbed her temple with a hoof as the sun let her know that she was officially late with the morning. It can wait, she told herself. Just a little longer.

“But what does that have to do with anything?” Twilight asked, restlessly shifting from side to side, glancing at her mentor every so often.

“Tell me,” Celestia asked her, choosing to ignore Twilight’s interruption. “If the sun hurts to look at, and could even be considered dangerous by certain standards, why would ponies want it around?”

Twilight looked out over the lands below while she considered the question. “Because... if we didn’t have the sun it would always be night?”

While her answer had been phrased as a question, Celestia nodded at Twilight. “So even though it could hurt you, you’re not scared of it?”

“I don’t... think... so?” The look of uncomprehending confusion she received from Twilight told Celestia that her student needed another puzzle piece before it all clicked.

Celestia lowered her head, bring her face close to Twilight’s to look her in the eyes directly. “Exactly. So tell me, Twilight, do you think that my sun is any different than your magic?” When Twilight looked back at the horizon without an immediate response, Celestia allowed herself a more genuine smile. Rhetorics, that is, things usually pondered about by the intellectual elite of Canterlot, were helping a filly as young as Twilight put the puzzle together in her head.

“So... I shouldn’t be afraid of my magic?” The filly finally asked, earning her a laugh from Celestia and a squeeze from a white wing.

“Exactly, Twilight.” Before she said anything more, Celestia had to briefly press a hoof against her forehead again; the constant pressure was starting to become rather painful. “Do you still want to help me raise the sun? It doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Twilight took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, Princess. I just... uh... what should I do?”

Celestia lit up her horn with magic once more, sending a dancing line of gold towards the mountains where the darkness of the night was already giving way to the twilight just before dawn. “The sun is there, just below the horizon. It wants to rise, but it needs a little help. All you need to do is try and focus a basic levitation spell enough to give it a little push, and I will do the rest.”

Looking back to her student, she silently watched as Twilight waged a war with herself. She had done all she could to convince the filly that things would turn out alright, and it had seemed like the message she was trying to get across had been understood. If there was one thing experience had taught her, however, it was that fear, despite being a bad advisor, had a lot of influence in the decision making process. Having already begun to think of other ways in which she could stimulate the little unicorn to use her magic, she was pleasantly surprised when Twilight finally nodded to herself and lowered her head, pointing her little horn towards the horizon.

The first sparks of Twilight’s magic were tentative, and looked like they had been as afraid to leave the safety of her horn as the filly herself had been of casting magic. Before long, however, the sparks increased in quantity before turning into a soft glow around Twilight, which intensified further as she poured more magic into her spell.

It was a fascinating sight; one Celestia hadn’t seen in a long time. The air crackled and Twilight’s hair fizzed in a few places, rising into the air as the spell went on. Celestia was reminded of another young little pony who had tried with all her might to raise a celestial body into the sky, and she braced herself for the pain she could never seem to forget.

The pain she expected did not come. In its stead, she remembered the previous evening, and how much of a relief it had been to have somepony to comfort her. Another thing I should have done years ago... she thought with a frown.

“I— I’m sorry, Princess, I can’t even touch it...”

Twilight’s voice broke her introspective musing. The filly sounded winded, and indeed, when she looked up Twilight was panting and sweating heavily. Her mane was plastered to her face and her entire tail drooped as if she had just run a marathon. Just in time, Celestia schooled her expression back into the warm comforting smile, remembering Twilight’s tendency to take any sign of disapproval as being directed at her specifically.

“Don’t try to force it, Twilight. It’s not quite the same as lifting a book,” she said with a small chuckle. She hadn’t been paying close attention to her student’s spellcasting, but seeing Twilight’s posture now, told her that there was definitely room for improvement. Nearly every unicorn colt and filly made the same mistake: They braced themselves physically to lift a weight that was being supported wholly by their magic, often leading to difficulties in spellcasting because of strain they put on their body.

Stepping closer to Twilight, Celestia used wings and magic to adjust Twilight’s pose until the filly no longer looked like she was trying to carry the weight of the sun on her shoulders and treated her to a smile. “Close your eyes, Twilight.”

The filly dutifully did as she was told and Celestia returned her gaze to the horizon, closing her own eyes as well. “Imagine the sun on your face early in the morning when you’re still in bed. Can you feel it?” She waited for Twilight to nod before continuing. “That gentle warmth is the sun touching you.” Celestia let out a pleased sigh, basking in the warmth of her charge. “Now, imagine the sun as you see it during the day, just below the horizon, and imagine your magic traveling back along those rays until it touches the sun.”

Celestia hadn’t intended for Twilight to actually do anything that could be considered of importance. It was just supposed to have been some encouragement to get the filly to stop being afraid of her own magic. Now that she had told Twilight how she herself touched the sun, however, a feeling of expectation crawled out of the depths of her mind. She wanted to see just how much potential Twilight had, and how much of it remained hidden.

Only a few seconds after Twilight once again began to channel her magic, Celestia could feel the change. Something, or rather, somepony, was pulling at the sun, small enough that it was nigh on imperceptible, but most definitely real. Had somepony been capable of appreciating the sun at that moment, they would have been hard pressed to indicate any notable movement. Still, she had most definitely moved the sun. But it didn’t come without a cost.

Unlike before, Twilight only showed the least amount of exertion that came with casting a spell of any kind. Instead of the exertion increasing, as would have been the case if she had run out of natural magical reserves, the glow surrounding Twilight’s horn intensified and slowly grew in size, apparently without the filly noticing.

“Twilight?” Celestia kept her voice gentle but stern. Having Twilight slip back into a magical maelstrom would be a disaster. Not because it would cause anywhere near as much damage as it had in the tower of the Scholar, but rather because it would convince Twilight that she couldn’t do anything right. Perhaps it was due to the momentary resemblance, or maybe because the filly made her laugh, but Celestia felt fiercely protective of her student and wanted to avoid giving Twilight another bad association with the use of magic.

The glow around her student’s horn faded quickly and Twilight looked up curiously. “Did I do it?” Her expression fell when she found out that the sun hadn’t moved, but quickly perked up again when Celestia poked her in the side with a hoof.

“You did very well for your first time, Twilight,” Celestia said smiling down at the filly. “But...” She leaned in close and continued in a conspiratorial whisper. “I should have raised the sun some time ago.” She gave Twilight a wink and lit up her horn. “You’ll get another chance, but right now ponies need to wake up.”

For Celestia, raising the sun was just part of the routine. One she made no spectacle of, to the point where she sometimes did not even go to her familiar spot on the balcony, but simply making it rise while she made her way to the dining room. Today was anything but routine. Not only did she still feel much more relaxed, but she also wanted to give Twilight another demonstration about all the ways magic could be something wonderful.

She launched herself with a mighty beat of her wings, focusing on weaving a myriad of spells at the same time. Morning Shimmer for the air, Radiant Coat for herself, a simple sparkler spell... For the first time in forever, she didn't mind showing off a little. If only because it can further inspire, Twilight, she thought with a smile. That wasn't the real reason, or at least not the only one, but it was as good an excuse as any.

Each flap sent her soaring higher and higher until she had passed even the tallest spires of the castle, her smile growing wider the higher she got. When she reached an altitude where she was certain a stray spell wouldn't inadvertently hit something or hurt somepony, she let loose.

For creatures all over Equestria, the dawn arrived suddenly, like the sun had finally decided that it had waited long enough, and quickly ascended until it was in its proper place in the sky. More than that, its ascent was accompanied by a series of magical explosions that not only set the sky ablaze like fireworks would have done, but also revealed a curtain of shimmering lights that waved back and fro like a tapestry of light. The display woke up everypony who was still asleep and awed the ones already outside.

But it didn't end there.

Using her magic, she gathered up a large formation of clouds and pulled at them from every angle until a light drizzle fell on the citizens of Canterlot. Making it rain unexpectedly was taxing to do, and likely wouldn’t be appreciated by some ponies; but Celestia felt that the rainbow which formed over the horizon as a result, was worth the effort. She took a moment to reign herself in before descending, and finding Twilight beaming at her. “So, Twilight,” she began with a wink, “are you ready to start on your—” The rest of her sentence came out as a grunt when one of the guards hit her in his haste to get to onto the balcony proper.

Celestia only barely managed to keep her footing, her wings flaring and flapping as she tried to retain her balance. The guard wasn't as lucky and landed on his rump, his spear clattering away on the marble. "Your Majesty, is everything alright?" he blurted out, his head and ears swiveling in every which direction in alarm. His helmet had been shaken to the side in the crash and now sat on his head backwards, making actually seeing anything rather difficult.

Twilight giggled at him, and even Celestia’s smile was a smidge wider than the one she usually spared for her guards while her magic helped the poor stallion with his obscured vision problem. “We are fine, Aegis. I was simply demonstrating the application of some advanced magic to Twilight.”

“I... I see.” Aegis smiled sheepishly and nodded his thanks. He got up and dusted himself off, bowing to Celestia after he had made himself look presentable again. “My apologies for the interruption, Princess.”

“Was there anything you needed, Aegis?” Celestia asked him, already running through possible problems in her mind.

“No, Your Majesty. We were alarmed by the explosion but Rook was... hesitant to go out onto the balcony.”

Celestia nodded at him. “Thank you for your concern, Aegis. You may be at ease.” The guard bowed again and headed for the entry archway, leaving Celestia and Twilight by themselves once more.

The playful mood that had gripped Celestia fled with the knowledge that she had likely worried several ponies by letting loose, and since Twilight had gotten a healthy dose of motivation, she decided that the best time to start the first lesson was right now. A plan made rather difficult by the knowledge that she didn’t have a first lesson planned out as of yet, which in turn made her remember that she had called Sunny Scrolls to her chambers the night before.

“Are you going to teach me now?” Twilight asked her, full of innocent curiosity and, judging by her restless hooves, more than a little excited.

Celestia shook her head ruefully. “Not quite yet, Twilight. There are still a few things we have to take care of.”

“Oh...” The filly deflated like a balloon. Her hooves stopped moving and her ears drooped to the point where Celestia felt the urge to reassure her that it wouldn’t be long now. Twilight preempted her by looking up and giving her a weak smile. “I understand... It’s because you’re the princess.”

There is that. Though I have apparently let my schedule get away from me, in more ways than one... She shook her head. No more.

“It’s not that, Twilight,” she said reassuringly, striding towards the entrance and the stairs that lay within. “I merely think that it is important for us to get some breakfast before we get started. Follow me.”

For Twilight, every trip through the castle was an experience. It seemed like every three steps she stopped and asked questions about life in the castle. Normally Celestia wouldn’t have minded, but today, more than any other day, she wanted to talk to Sunny Scrolls as soon as she could. Feeling unprepared to deal with something, and worse, feeling like she had made a promise she couldn’t keep, weren’t things she was used to feeling; moreover, they weren’t feelings she particularly enjoyed having.

She responded to Twilight’s questions almost absentmindedly, while devoting a large portion of her attention into the basic framework of a lesson plan and subsequent adjustments that would have to be made in her schedule. And while Twilight seemed satisfied with the answers she received, Celestia wasn’t paying any attention to her surroundings; that is, until Twilight came up with a question that wasn’t directly related to the castle.

“Princess, who is that?”

When Celestia actually assessed the ponies coming around the corner into the hallway they were traversing, she saw an elegant-looking unicorn that never failed to make her hairs stand on end. The mare in question had a white coat, long blonde hair, and a burgundy dress with so many layers that it looked like she was drowning in it. And the day started out so well, Celestia thought with a sigh. Thinking quickly, she ducked into one of the side rooms, grabbing Twilight with her magic, and before the unicorn even had the chance to yelp, closed the door behind them.

Suddenly, they were no longer standing in a brightly lit hallway where the early morning staff had already started to make their rounds, but in a dark, damp, broom closet. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but it had been the only room close enough to escape undetected. It was a bit of a tight fit for a pony as big as Celestia was, but if she had to choose between spending any amount of time in here and spending several hours talking to the mare in the hallway, she would gladly lose the few that would have seen them to the dining room.

“Princess?”

She could hear Twilight stumble around, banging her head and shins against the cleaning supplies. She was completely disoriented by the sudden change in scenery, which Celestia made a mental note of, for when they eventually got to teleportation lessons. “I’m here, Twilight.” She channeled a minute amount of magic through her horn, just enough to make it shimmer.

The first thing she saw was the light reflecting in Twilight’s eyes. The filly had backed up and gotten her rump stuck in a bucket which she was trying to get out off, unsuccessfully. “What happened?” the filly asked while trying to leverage her hooves against the wooden contraption.

Celestia opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated; Showing off to inspire her student to greater heights of magical ability was one thing, but admitting that she had no desire to talk to one of her subjects... “Just a simple mistake,” she said, using a tendril of magic to separate Twilight from her wooden captor. “Have you decided what you want for breakfast yet?” she continued, trying to divert Twilight’s attention from what she was doing.

Twilight shrugged helplessly. “Oatmeal?”

“A good choice. I myself was thinking about getting a serving of crepes.”

“Creepies?” Twilight echoed her, seemingly even more confused than she had been a moment ago.

At least she isn’t asking about Blueblood. “Crepes.” Celestia repeated slowly, accentuating the syllables. “It is a dish similar to pancakes, but it comes with fruit, and whipped cream on top.”

“That sounds yummy,” Twilight said with a smile that only lasted for a few seconds. “But mom said that I shouldn’t eat sweets for breakfast.”

Celestia rolled her shoulders and sighed softly; hiding in a cramped room hadn’t been one of her better decisions, and it became even worse when one of her wings bumped into a shelf containing hoof-worn brush shoes. The bump rattled the shelf which subsequently showered them in bristles and wood. She winced in sympathy when one of the brushes hit Twilight’s horn, resulting in an ‘ouch’ from the unicorn.

“Sorry, Twilight,” she said with a guilty smile. “There’s not really enough room in here to house a pony of my size.” No sooner than she had finished her sentence did she realise her mistake.

“Princess? What are we doing in here anyway?”

Celestia winced again. Not wanting to lie, yet not particularly enamoured with the idea of having to explain herself to the unicorn she decided to try for a half truth. “We are... hiding.”

“Are we hiding from the pretty mare?”

“...Yes.”

In political dealings, there was a certain amount of truth bending that was inevitable. Politics was the art of civilized lying after all. However, Celestia had learned from experience that lying outside of that setting always backfired on the perpetrator in one way or another; which was why she tried to avoid doing so whenever she could.

Her latest half-lie was no different, and she could already feel something brewing before the unicorn next to her had even opened her mouth.

Twilight gasped and bounded over to the door to peek out the keyhole. “Is it because she’s a super villain? Pretty mares are almost always evil.” Twilight’s growing smile faltered briefly. “Except for you, of course.” She followed it up with another gasp and a look of determination. “Is she trying to steal your magic?”

Celestia blinked, completely bewildered by the leap of logic the filly’s mind had taken. “Twilight she’s not—”

Twilight started pacing as best she could in the limited space available to her. “She’s probably like a vizier or something; those ponies are always plotting to steal either the magic or the kingdom from the fair prince or princess... or both!” Twilight looked up at Celestia with a look that was clearly meant to convey calm, but looked ridiculously out of place. She put a hoof on Celestia’s cutie mark, having trouble reaching any higher than that in the confined space. “Don’t worry princess I’ll protect you! Although...” She looked around and grabbed a mop which she put on her head. Next were a pair of the brushes which were swiftly turned into a makeshift beard and mustache that made her look even more ridiculous. “Maybe we could disguise ourselves while we make a run to the rebel encampment where the plucky sideki—”

The rest of her sentence was lost against a gold-shod hoof.

“No, Twilight, she is not a super villain.”

Twilight almost looked disappointed, likely having thought herself a certain famous explorer on a mission to save a certain country’s fair princess. Her frown was short lived, and she followed Celestia when the alicorn made her way to the door. “Are we done hiding?”

Celestia took a long look through the keyhole, trying to make sure that the mare she was hiding from had been held up. “Yes, we are,” she eventually replied, throwing open the door and stepping back out into the hallway.

She waited for Twilight to come out of the closet as well, brushing off the strange looks many members of the staff were giving her while trying to anticipate the next question Twilight would have. And though Twilight did have a question, it wasn’t the one she had been preparing herself for; the question in question didn’t come from Twilight’s mouth. In its stead, a dull roar from her stomach politely requested that they hurry up already. It earned Twilight a smile from the ponies that recognised it for what it was, and a fearful yelp from the few that didn’t.

Celestia chuckled. “Are you ready to get some breakfast now?”

“Uh-huh,” Twilight replied with a nod, trying to hide her embarrassed blush by hiding behind her mentor’s legs; a position that was quickly abandoned when they started moving again. “So, if that mare wasn’t a supervillain, why were we hiding from her?

“Duchess Blueblood is a very... driven mare,” Celestia began. “Whenever she sets her sights on something, she does not stop until she gets what she wants, and ever since I accepted you as my student, she wants me to accept her son as well.”

“Is he good with magic?” Twilight asked excitedly. “Maybe we could be study buddies!”

A snort escaped Celestia, which she quickly masked with a cough. “Ahem, no, Twilight, he isn’t.” In fact, he isn’t mature enough to handle any sort of education. “But the reason we were hiding from the Duchess was because she has the tendency to draw out conversations, and if I heard your stomach correctly, it would like to have breakfast rather than dinner.”

The main dining hall was big by anypony’s standards; spanning the length of any decently sized hoofball field and sporting some of the most varied architecture in the castle. The original room, of which only the floor remained, had been carved out of the mountainside, and shared its dark grey color. After that, every time the room had been expanded to make room for more inhabitants eating at the same time had added a layer of contemporary architecture for the time. Marble for the classical era, alabaster for the neo-tribal one, and so on until the layout of the room resembled the rings in a tree stump.

Even though ponies still called it ‘The Grand Dining Hall’, it had long since outgrown the literal description. With the nonstop sounds of ponies laughing, talking, and sometimes fighting, it felt more like being at a tavern and made it one of the most lively places in the castle.

That is, whenever the Princess wasn’t around. As with everything, the moment Celestia stepped into the room a wave of silence rippled outward, tempering the atmosphere into something resembling a respectful peace, which was one of the reasons she didn’t often show herself there. Today was an exception; even though Celestia’s mere presence seemed to disrupt the friendly camaraderie, that didn’t mean that Twilight couldn’t find herself a few friends here once she found her place in the castle.

For now, however, breakfast was the priority which wasn’t difficult to find. No sooner than they’d sat down at the table specifically reserved for the princess did the head chef appear. He was a heavy-set earth pony with a brown coat and scruffy mane, a little rounder than most ponies ever became, but all smiles from the moment he had stepped out of the kitchens.

“A great morning to you, Princess. Spectacular sunrise today. Any occasion?” he said jovially, giving her a friendly nod before leaning down and smiling at Twilight. “And a great morning to you as well, little miss.”

“H-hello,” Twilight replied, shyly. She didn’t look at all comfortable and his attention quickly shifted back to Celestia.

Celestia returned his warm smile. “Good morning, Mead. Could you get us two servings of crepes? I’d rather not have to explain on an empty stomach.” Her words were given extra weight by Twilight’s stomach which once again made it clear that she needed some food in her.

“Sun and stars, little one, you sound like you’re about to pass out!” he exclaimed. “Wait right here. I’ll be back before you know it!”

After he had disappeared back into the kitchens, Twilight scooted a little closer to Celestia anxiously looking around the room, and Celestia quickly figured out why: Normally, ponies kept their gaze averted from the table she was seated at, almost as if merely looking at the princess constituted a crime. Now, however, a lot of the usual conversations had started up again bringing back some of the atmosphere, though it wasn’t hard to guess what ponies were talking about. Everypony, it seemed, was looking at the table, or more specifically, they were looking at Twilight.

“Princess, why are they all looking at me? Did I do something wrong again?”

“No, Twilight. They were simply interested because I don’t usually eat here, and because they’ve heard that you’re my student now.” Celestia replied in way of explanation. She let her gaze drift across the room, meeting the eyes of anypony brave enough to continue staring until they wisely went back to what they had been doing. Her actions would see even fewer ponies muster up the courage to do anything like it in the future, but right now Twilight was her biggest concern. “They’ll go back to laughing and talking about other things soon enough.”

Honey Mead came back soon after carrying, not only the crepes, but a glass pitcher filled with freshly squeezed orange juice as well, all of which he expertly balanced on his back. “Here you go, ladies. The finest batch of breakfast I’ve ever made!”

Celestia shook her head with a smile. “You say that every time, Mead.”

“And I mean it every time!” the chef replied with pride. “I learn something new every day, and it shows in my cooking.”

Twilight fidgeted in her seat, keeping her eyes on her plate until Mead was done talking. She raised her hoof like a filly in class and waited until Mead was looking at her. “Uh... sir? My mom always says that I’m not allowed to have sweets for breakfast.”

“Nonsense! A small filly like you needs good, tasty food so you can grow up strong and beautiful like the princess here,” Mead said, indicating Celestia with a hoof and then laughed when he saw Twilight looking between him and Celestia. “Yes, if you eat too much you’ll end up looking like me, but you have a lot of growing to do before anything like that happens, little miss.”

It was unclear whether Twilight had been convinced by his cheery disposition, or if she simply couldn’t resist the scrumptious looking meal in front of her, but with a small, thankful smile towards the chef, she dug in. Or at least she tried to. Picking up a fork with her hooves apparently wasn’t something Twilight was used to, making her fumble and drop the fork within seconds. She tried again with the spoon on the other side of the plate, but again she botched the attempt and dropped it. The knife was next, sailing through the air and embedding itself in the backrest of the wooden chair, inches from Celestia’s head.

Twilight didn’t even seem to have noticed, though Celestia certainly had. It was the closest she had ever come to an unintentional assassination attempt, and she was keen to prevent a repeat experience lest the headlines of tomorrow’s paper read: ‘Princess killed with salad fork’. “Twilight?” she said quickly, disrupting the focus of the filly who was wrestling with her thankfully less lethal dessert spoon.

The smaller spoon went clattering to the ground as well and Twilight looked annoyed and frustrated when she finally met Celestia’s eyes. Her annoyance melted like snow before Celestia’s sun when she noticed the knife, leaving shock and fear behind to guard its retreat. “Oh... I’m so sorry, Princess. I was just...”

Celestia conjured a smile to hide her own shock and held up a hoof to forestall any more apologies. “It’s okay, Twilight, but perhaps it would be better if you used magic to eat?” She pulled out the knife with her magic and tapped the shocked Earth pony cook on the flank with the handle, breaking him out of his own stupor. “Could you bring us a fresh set of cutlery, Mead?”

Honey Mead needed a few seconds to recover, and shook his head to clear it, before remembering that Celestia was looking at him. He nodded and bowed, taking off towards the kitchens at a brisk pace, while muttering to himself about the dangers of mishandled cutlery.

Celestia’s own attempts at breakfast were interrupted in another fashion. Somewhere between the knife and her fourth bite of the delicious fruit that came with the crepes, Sunny Scrolls had appeared at the table. The ever industrious mare was carrying stacks upon stacks of papers, which meant that open court was once again on the schedule today. She felt that she spent more time preparing for court than actually holding it, the realization of which brought her back to the most important thing she wanted to discuss with Sunny: Her schedule.

“Late morning today, Princess?” came the question from the other side of the paper, which was the closest anypony had gotten to a public chastisement these days, and Celestia felt that she should at least make an effort to look both guilty and sorry at the same time, even if her assistant couldn’t see it.

“I wanted to apologise for yesterday, Sunny. I was more tired than I had expected... which is also the reason morning was a little late.”

The antique oaken table groaned when Sunny heaped her cargo onto it, only barely holding under the weight of so much bureaucracy. The mare herself walked around the wall of paper, wearing a skeptic expression that demanded explanation. “Such things happen, Your Highness, though I cannot help but wonder about the reports I got from the guards stationed at the gates.” She sat down next to Celestia and began levitating over the papers one by one. “It seems there was an artistic—and wholly unsanctioned—explosion of magic released right over the castle.”

“Simply an idea that came to me in the early hours.” Celestia picked up another strawberry and chewed on it daintily, sparing a look for her still tableware-less student. “And it seems to have worked out as I hoped it would,” she continued, directing Sunny’s attention towards Twilight by inclining her head. The young unicorn had given up waiting for Mead to come back with another fork, and was attempting to use her magic to lift the food itself.

Rather than start with a single fruit, she had elected to try and pick up the plate as a whole with a flourish of her horn. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet had the chance to find out about the power disparity getting her cutie mark had caused, and, much like the knife, it was sent sailing through the dining hall before landing on an unsuspecting guard.

The unicorn in question had been laughing with some of his buddies from the force after a long shift on southern wall, and in his state of lessened sobriety, didn’t link the pancake on his neck with a young filly having troubles with her magic. Rather, he thought it was a prank pulled on him by one of the other guards, and he wasn’t the kind to back down from a challenge. He retaliated with a beer mug, throwing it in the general direction he believed the pancake to have come from. It in turn soaked a class of foals who were on a tour of the castle, and before long he wasn’t the only one intentionally pelting others with food.

Twilight watched with growing horror as what would have been a simple mistake grew into a full-fledged food fight. The air was filled with omelets, hash browns, and more oatmeal than she had ever eaten in her life. Even the ponies that didn’t have breakfast with which to participate found their drinks a close enough substitute, filling the air with cider, orange juice, and the mugs it had been served in.

While her mentor had shielded herself and Sunny Scrolls with one of her impressively large wings, keeping her magic in reserve for unforeseen projectiles, Twilight hadn’t been as lucky. She had been sitting too far away to enjoy any of the additional protection, and while she scrambled for safety, and managed to dodge as many foods as she was hit by, she still looked like a breakfast monster before the fight had really gotten underway.

Unseen by the two ponies closest to her, Celestia was wearing a smile. This was only the third biggest disruption of order the Dining Hall had seen in its lifetime, a long shot from the dragon whom she had mistakenly summoned after a particularly infuriating evening; and even further removed from her confrontation with the dreaded Nightmare Moon. Even without, or perhaps because there was no real danger, it only made her feel more happy; the day was turning out to be the best she’d had in a long time. When two separate tomato salads came at her from different directions, however, she decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

With a flourish of Celestia’s horn, the three of them vanished from the battlefield, leaving the projectiles to harmlessly make a mess of both the table, chairs... and the stacks of paper that hadn’t gone anywhere. The ponies engaged in the food fight didn’t even blink and happily continued their assault on one another.

As the only one who knew what was going to happen, Celestia was also the only one landing squarely on her hooves. Sunny stumbled and only avoided falling over due to some fancy footwork.

Twilight landed on her face, dizzy and more and a little nauseous after being dragged through the magical ether for the first time in her life. She sat up with a groan and rubbed her aching muzzle with her hooves, tuning out the ponies that were talking in the background. When her muzzle stopped hurting, she looked around, trying to find out what had happened and, more importantly, where she was.

From what she could tell, the room they had landed in could have belonged to a Minotaur Monk. Perhaps like the one that had taught Daring Do how to fight her inner-demons after having been cursed in ‘The Shaman’s Anathema’!

While the walls were a soothing pearly white, and the light streaming through the many windows made the room seem more cheery, calling its furnishings sparse would have been generous. Despite the fact that the room was about three times as big as Twilight’s own room in the castle, it only held a pile of pillows, a plain desk positioned underneath the much more interesting tapestry on the wall, which depicted the moon with a stylized mare’s face in it; and finally a rug in front of an empty fireplace. The only things that looked even remotely ornate were the four doors, each in a different section of the wall, and each with a stylized imprint of the sun on them.

“Twilight.”

She turned back to her mentor to find both Sunny Scrolls and Celestia both frowning at her, though Celestia seemed to have a difficulty keeping a smile from her face; the corners of her mouth twitching upwards with increasing frequency.

“Twilight,” Celestia repeated gently. “You’re making a mess.”

All at once Twilight became aware of just how icky she felt. Her mane reeked of alcohol, mixed with orange juice and even some milk; an apple had somehow managed to land on her horn; and her back and hooves were sticky with maple syrup which hadn’t gone quite as far as her crepes had. To make matters worse, the sticky substance had made it possible for other things to stick to her coat as well; a few leaves of salad and even a few sandwich slices clung to her fetlocks. All in all she was wearing enough food to be able to serve as a walking buffet.

“Eeeeuuwwhhhh!” she cried out, tapping out an unintentional staccato with her hooves while looking for the nearest body of water. “Euwh ewh euww euwhhhh!”

She was quickly picked up in a teal aura of magic and steadily levitated toward one of the doors. “Young lady, you are in a lot of trouble for starting that food fight. Not only that, but you’re making a mess of the princess’ chambers. Get out of here and go clean yourself u—”

Sunny halted when a gold-shod hoof landed on her back. “Let her use my personal bathroom, Sunny.”

The unicorn gasped. “Princess!” She looked at Twilight, then over at a door at the far side of the room, before looking back at Celestia. “You cannot be serious.”

Celestia smiled at her aide and gave her a gentle shove. “It’s only food, Sunny, and Twilight couldn’t help what happened.”

“I... but... it’s my job to... and...” The mare stopped and took a deep breath, before bowing to Celestia and letting the spell that held Twilight fade away. “As you wish, Princess.”

Using her own magic to nudge open the door on the far side of the room, Celestia motioned for Twilight to go ahead. “Go on, we’ll get started on your first lesson after you’ve gotten cleaned up.”

“Okay, Princess.”

After Twilight disappeared into the bathroom, Celestia walked over to her desk and started scribbling down ideas for a lesson plan. Sunny followed her closely and took up a position next to her, watching over her shoulder intently. “Princess... where are the documents?”

Celestia calmly dipped her quill into the ink and continued to put down her thoughts on paper. “What documents?” she asked innocently. Leaving the documents behind when she cast the teleportation spell hadn’t been a conscious decision on her part; she had simply reacted in the spur of the moment. Just this once, a mistake she had made came back to her in the form of a blessing; without all those documents around, she could finally have a conversation about her schedule without being buried under to-do lists.

One of the reasons Sunny had held out as Celestia’s personal aide was the fact that she had a lot of patience. No matter how wise or all-powerful a pony was, it meant little when they were overworked to the point of forgetting appointments made mere minutes ago. She let out a quiet sigh and continued as though Celestia genuinely did not know which documents she was talking about. “The documents pertaining our court preparations, Princess.”

“I left them behind.”

From the corner of her eye, Celestia watched Sunny deal with a facial tick, an eye twitch, that had become a tell for when her patience was tested. Sunny took another deep breath before asking, “May I ask why?”

It was one of those things Celestia could never get used to; an hour ago she had woken up fresh and had composed a rhetoric which would persuade the mare in charge of her schedule with ease, but now that she actually faced the mare, all of the social and political savvy seemed to have fled her skull.

She considered simply not responding. Letting the silence drag on, to try and give herself some time to come up with a new approach. Sunny’s demeanour, however, made that far from easy.

“Princess? I can’t find the...”

Both mares turned towards the door leading to the bathroom, from which there were a lot of sounds of a filly banging her shins and dropping the toiletries. A few seconds later, it was followed by a loud CLANG which was in turn followed by a filly groaning loud enough for them to hear through the walls.

“Nevermind... I found it!”

Celestia, who had halfway gotten up—worried that something might have happened to the filly that was quickly becoming her favorite student—sat back down and turned back to her desk. Or at least she would have, hadn’t she come face to face with a mare whose patience had run out.

“You’re being too familiar with her, Princess.”

Celestia snorted. “What would you have me do? She’s a young filly that still has to learn most everything.”

“I would have you be a responsible princess,” Sunny replied without missing a beat. “You are her mentor, not her mother, and she does not need you acting like one.”

“Sunny,” Celestia began, reprovingly. “She is a foal, and foals, especially ones as young as she is, need guidance; but that doesn’t mean I am trying to act like her mot—” She paused, gauging the validity of her words. There might have been some truth to the accusation, but she didn’t regret her actions either. Still, perhaps it would be wise to take a step back. Jealousy is the last thing I’d want Twilight to suffer from. “I’ll try not to get too attached, if that’s your concern.”

Sunny’s expression hardened. “You saying too attached is exactly what concerns me! Think of how the nobles might exploit that fact when they learn exactly how much you care about that filly.”

Again, Celestia did not reply, though this time it had less to do with not being able to find the right words. Rather she was doing one of the hardest things in existence: She forced herself to consider the possibility that Sunny might be right, even though she would rather have dismissed the words outright.

“You may have a point,” she finally conceded after several minutes of silence with only the occasional splash or giggle coming from the bathroom. Her aide’s shoulders slumped; Even with the time Sunny had been standing next to the desk, patiently waiting for a reply, it was clear that going up against Celestia, if only for a moment, was taxing for her. It made Celestia feel like she had to apologise for being stubborn.

Sunny nodded, letting a small smile creep onto her face. “I’m sorry I had to—”

Celestia stopped her with a shake of her head. “Don’t apologise. I should thank you for telling me something I did not want to hear, Sunny,” she said, scooting over a smidge so she could drape a wing over the unicorn’s back. “So... thank you.”

“Princess, you’re being too familiar again,” Sunny said, her smile growing until any trace of her discomfort had vanished.

Giving one last squeeze with her wing before letting go, Celestia drew herself up to her full height and stuck her muzzle in the air in a fair imitation of the nobles parading around high society canterlot. “And why shouldn’t I be allowed to give a hug to the closest friend I’ve had for centuries? I am the princess! I can do whatever I please.” She held the pose for a second or two longer, before breaking out in a fit of giggles, which got a chuckle out of the other mare as well.

The humor of the situation didn’t last long, and Sunny was ever eager to get back to the matter at hoof. “Princess, why did you leave the documents behind?”

“Because we no longer need them.”

“But what about morning court?” Sunny asked, confusion evident in her voice. “You’ll need them to prepare.”

Celestia let out a sigh. In the few unguarded moments after sharing a laugh, Sunny had steered them into the heart of the problem, and she still didn’t have a clear plan on how to proceed. Once more did she wonder if taking on Twilight as her student had been a mistake. She had cried, and laughed, and had been unprepared for more things than she was comfortable with. Once before had she wished she could undo a decision she’d made, and now, as then, there was nothing for it but to go with the flow. “That is what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“Morning court?” Sunny asked, growing more confused by the second.

“Not just morning court, but my schedule as a whole. I want to start delegating much of the workload, and make time to actually be a teacher." She sat back down in front of the desk, and showed Sunny a rudimentary list of ideas ranging from ‘basic levitation’ to ‘Star Swirl’s theorem on coagulating magic’. “Twilight has been here for two days, and I haven’t even gotten around to formulating a lesson plan.”

“But, Princess, morning court is much more—”

“Less,” Celestia cut her off. “Court is less important than teaching Twilight how to control her magic. Presiding over disputes and answering questions could be done by any competent pony, but I am the only one that can teach Twilight what she needs to know.”

“Even if that were true, who could take over? Your advisors?”

The contempt apparent in Sunny’s voice left Celestia floundering. It had seemed like an obvious choice to give her advisors another chance to prove themselves. If she was honest with herself, however, the disdain Sunny held for her so called ‘advisors’ was shared by many of the castle staff and something they richly deserved.

She smiled deviously when she reviewed the mental list of ponies with the required skills and experience to lead the morning court procession. The list was embarrassingly short, but all she really needed was a single pony. “Actually... no,” she said, turning her devious grin upon the pony who was about to become a hapless victim of Celestia’s on-the-fly schemes. “I was thinking of somepony more suited to the task. Somepony who has a good head on her shoulders and whom I trust implicitly.”

Perhaps Sunny hadn’t been her steward for long enough, for she didn’t recognise the smile for what it was. “I will try my best to make the arrangements and brief them on their new task before court starts. Whom might it be, Princess?”

Celestia considered her for a moment. I would have thought you had become a little more savvy after a decade of experience with political dealings... she thought, though what she said was: “I was thinking...” She lifted a hoof and let it wander around before letting it point towards Sunny. “You.”

“Princess... I’m flattered but...” Sunny replied a little too quickly, giving away just how nervous she was about the sudden promotion. “Surely there is somepony more qualified to handle something as important as this?”

“Somepony more qualified than the mare that always memorizes any and all documentation that may be important for court that day? Who then brings them along anyway, simply so that the princess can read them over herself if she would like, even if all the princess has to do is ask her trusted assistant?” Celestia chuckled heartily and couldn’t resist giving Sunny a friendly nuzzle. “I’m sure that if I were to ask, you could recite any of them from memory.”

Perhaps even moreso than the simple things, Celestia delighted in the astonishment of ponies when she told them about things they thought they’d kept hidden from her. The only thing better was that very same look of astonishment coupled with happy or grateful smile, both of which Sunny Scrolls was currently the proud owner of.

“Thank you for the confidence and the honor, Princess, but I have two conditions before I would consider accepting something like this.”

Celestia simply nodded and waited for her to go ahead.

“I want to remain in charge of your schedule. Morning court should only have a slight impact on my performance and I... I love my job.” For a brief moment, she looked like the young, nervous, unicorn mare that had started a job as an apprentice under Celestia’s former schedule keeper. The sentiment made Celestia smile a little wider.

“I would like nothing better. What else?”

“I don’t want to work with those… those...” Sunny snorted and made an irritated gesture with her hooves, “—those idiotic stallions that call themselves your advisors.”

“You won’t have to. Leave them to me,” Celestia said amicably. “It will take a little maneuvering, but I think we can work something out. You will even be able to choose your own advisors should you so wish.”

Sunny trembled with suppressed excitement, and even when she allowed herself a smile it was still restrained. “I humbly accept this promotion,” she said, bending her excitement into a deep bow to Celestia. “And since my new responsibilities are due to begin sooner rather than later, I should head towards the throne room.”

Celestia got up and dipped her head towards Sunny in turn. “I’ll come with you to officially hand over responsibilities.”

Sunny shook her head. “There’s really no need, Princess. Ponies know me, and they know that I wouldn’t do anything like this without your approval. Besides, you wanted to clear your schedule so you had time to teach Twilight Sparkle, did you not?”

Celestia had already been making her way to the door but paused when Sunny’s words reached her. “Oh… yes, that’s right...” She walked back to the desk and softly chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second before nodding. “Alright then. But if you need any help you can find me in the west wing observatory."

“You’re mothering again, Princess.”

Celestia smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Sunny smiled, bowed once more, and made her way to the double doors that lead out into the hallway. At the same time, the door at the opposite end of the room opened, and when Celestia turned around, she came face to face with a sparkling clean Twilight...

...and a very messy bathroom.

It wasn’t just messy in the sense that somepony had been in dire need of a bath, but it seemed like Twilight had gone through every single one of her shampoo bottles, which were scattered all over the place.

“What did you do in there, Twilight?” she asked in disbelief.

Twilight frowned and looked over her shoulder. “I tried to find the wavy-rainbow shampoo because I wanted to try it out... but I think you left it somewhere else.”

“Wavy… rainbow?” Celestia asked.

Twilight nodded. “You know, the shampoo you use to get your mane to do that...” she pointed at Celestia’s mane which was flowing through the air, undisturbed by the conversation about its origins.

“But this isn’t due... to...” Celestia cut herself off and shook her head. “Nevermind, we will get to that some other time. Are you clean enough to begin?”

“I think... yes! I’m ready for my first lesson, Princess!” the filly cheered, looking very pleased with herself after giving herself a quick once over. Celestia smiled, but kept her desire to laugh to herself. She made a mental note to ask the first maid they came across to see about cleaning up her bathroom before the end of the day; which was only just getting started.

The Importance of Housekeeping

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How did it come to this? Celestia wondered, eyes closed and a hoof on her chin, though try as she might, she could not seem to find the answer. The lesson had started off wonderfully. Even at her tender age, Twilight had all but mastered basic levitation. So much so, in fact, that the requests Celestia made of her were apparently boring the young filly.

Though her experience with young ponies was limited, the same did not hold true for her teaching experience. She switched up the curriculum by throwing in harder challenges the filly couldn’t possibly ever have encountered, much less trained for. Levitating oneself, for example, was a great deal more difficult than one would think, as Twilight demonstrated by repeatedly slamming herself into the floor until worries arose that she might hurt herself.

Of course, other assignments came with their own brand of problems. Lifting heavy objects was very challenging, and more than once Celestia had to catch an object before it made a hole in the floor. It wasn’t until Celestia asked her to move several small spheres in circles around one another (and Twilight broke some very expensive stargazing equipment) that Celestia finally decided to surround the two of them with a shield.

It took Twilight quite some time and instruction to get the hang of levitating multiple items, and even then she could only handle two to three at a time. Despite that, the lesson proceeded more or less as planned. Illusionary spells weren’t usually taught in elementary school due to the intricacy of visualizing such a spell, much less casting it. That too Twilight demonstrated—much to her chagrin—by conjuring some of the most fearsome monstrosities Celestia had ever seen, something Celestia later explained was due to the inconsistency of her spell matrix. Still, at least there had been improvement in the young filly’s levitation technique.

The train had gone off the proverbial rails some time after that when Twilight, drenched in her own sweat, had asked if she could take a break. Her lack of stamina concerned Celestia. For a moment, she wondered if she shouldn’t have Twilight redo some of the more simple spells while adding physical exertion to toughen her up a little, but she eventually dismissed the idea. If they weren’t careful, too much training as a filly could leave a pony swaybacked for life, and Celestia didn’t wish that on her new student.

A little while into the break, Twilight had gotten up and asked with youthful innocence if they could play a game of tag, or perhaps hide and seek. Celestia had valiantly resisted, until Twilight brought out two soulful eyes so big it was a miracle they fit in their sockets. A curt nod and a jubilant cheer later, Celestia had found out that Twilight’s idea of those two games wasn’t like most foals her age.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious from the filly’s inquiries about ‘flowy manes’, but at the time it was a nebulous clue at best. Currently, Celestia’s long, flowing, chromatic mane was being used as, in order: A swing set, a hidey hole, a makeshift slide, and a blanket. It was bad enough that Twilight showed no signs of becoming bored with her new playmate, but Celestia’s mane actually seemed to enjoy the attention. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have been convinced it was alive.

Just when she had decided enough was enough, her position became even more precarious than it had been. There was a struggle and somepony tugging at her mane, more than they had been at any rate, followed by a tiny voice that squeaked “Princess? I’m stuck...”

It was one of those things she wasn’t used to hearing and didn’t have an immediate response to, which was why it took her a while to come up with a solution. Simple it was not, but the definition of simple was rarely the same when one had the power to move the sun on a regular basis. She wove a teleportation spell, scaling back the power so she would only shift a few feet from where she had begun. With a small flash she was on all fours again, no worse for the wear, though the same couldn’t be said for the filly still tangled in her mane. Twilight looked like she had been set on fire and then hastily put out. Her entire face was blackened and some parts of her mane were still alight, though that was swiftly resolved by a second spell from Celestia.

She cleared her throat and smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, Twilight.”

Despite her fireproofed appearance, Twilight’s smile was still bright as ever. “I’m sorry too, Princess,” she replied, even if she did not look particularly guilty.

Untangling Twilight proved to be a much harder task than she had anticipated and only after giving her student a show in expert multi-object manipulation—meaning she controlled each strand of hair individually—could she seperate the filly from the mane.

Looking around for a cloth and eventually using a foreleg to wipe the soot of off Twilight’s face made her feel more like a mother than ever before. It left an impressive stain on her otherwise pristine coat, but that did in no way weigh up against the sense of satisfaction she got from it. Sunny may have had the best of intentions, but this time, her advice was wrong.

“Are you ready to continue, Twilight?”

Twilight shook herself thoroughly, displacing even more of the black dust she was coated with before smiling up at her mentor and nodding. “Ready, Princess!”

Sparing a smile for the eagerness, Celestia lit up her horn once more and recreated the small Daring Do from Twilight’s books. It garnered the same reaction from Twilight as when it had been conjured back in her room, albeit with less furtive glancing and more giggling.

“Pay attention, Twilight,” she began, breaking down the illusion to just a basic framework of connected lines. “Creating a believable illusion requires you to understand the subject matter. For living creatures, it is important to know how they would naturally behave in any action you want to make it perform. Creating an illusion of a stationary object is therefore much easier.”

Twilight’s nodding, which had been fast to the point of frantic during Celestia’s explanation, slowed to a more thoughtful pace. “So if I tried making a rock, it wouldn’t look so bad?”

“Exactly, Twilight,” Celestia replied with a smile. “Rocks don’t move unless pushed, so they are a good way to practice, although making a rock move takes its own brand of experimentation and—” She stopped when she noticed Twilight’s expression fade back into an uncomprehending frown. “Nevermind that. For now, I want you to try and create an illusionary rock with your magic.”

Twilight hopped over to the center of the protective sphere Celestia had created and braced herself, making the same mistake that troubled her while trying to raise the sun and every so often since they had started the lesson.

All Celestia had to do was remind her of the explanations they had gone through a dozen times already. “Watch your posture, Twilight.”

The glow from Twilight’s horn dissipated almost immediately and she smiled sheepishly before pulling her legs in a little and straightening her back. “Sorry, Princess.”

“It’s alright. Just take it slow and focus on creating the image of a rock.”

Twilight began again, lighting up her horn and closing her eyes. Inch by inch she dropped back into the wrong posture but caught herself before Celestia said anything about it. Despite her improving sense of stature while casting, however, even her illusion of a rock was an abject failure. It was only the bare framework of an illusion much like the one Celestia had created but flicked in and out of existence every time Twilight so much as twitched.

After several minutes of trying her hardest, Twilight dropped the spell and tried to catch her breath. “Did I... Did I do it?” she asked, huffing and gasping like a fish out of water.

“Not quite, Twilight, but you’re making progress,” Celestia said, again wondering how much she should expect from Twilight. “Let’s try that again. Try to focus on nothing but the image of a rock.”

Twilight sat down on her haunches, her breathing slowing steadily. “But I don’t know what kind of rock I should be thinking about.”

“What about a rock you had at home, in the yard?”

“My mom likes gardening so we don’t have any rocks in the garden,” Twilight said, shaking her head.

“Maybe one you’ve seen on your way to school?”

A helpless shrug paired with another shake of the head was Twilight’s response. “I don’t know...”

Humming thoughtfully, Celestia surveyed the room until her eye fell on her Daring Do projection, still merrily prancing about. “Has Daring Do ever seen a special rock?”

Twilight put a hoof to her chin, her face scrunching up in thought. “Maybe... ‘The Rock of a Thousand Mysteries’ from the ‘Race for the Wonders of the World’?”

“And what does this rock look like?”

“It’s big, and a little round, but flat on the top so you can sit there. And when Daring sits on it she summons a din...” Twilight stopped and frowned. “A gin? Deegin? It’s... a ghost who can do magic.”

“A Djinn?”

“Yes! Only this one can’t do any magic anymore because he was fired from his job, but he tells her when and where her arch nemesis, Ahuizotl, went!”

Celestia chuckled at her student who still had fillyish struggles with words the first moment, and spoke like a scholar the next. She gestured for Twilight to stop before she got too far from the point and said “Let’s go back to the rock. Do you think you can visualise that?”

Finally, Twilight nodded. “I’ll... try.”

While Twilight set herself up to try again, Celestia turned her attention to the world outside the windows. Even with the brief break in between, they had been talking about and rehearsing magic for three hours already. In the past, a full day of lessons could take anywhere between eight and fourteen hours, depending on the students themselves. Several of them had pushed themselves to the point of exhaustion, but then, they had all been old enough to know their limits.

Then again, a filly as young as she is will likely complain about being tired long before it becomes an issue.

Choosing to forgo the item that usually topped her list when teaching a new student—namely pushing them to their limits until they collapsed—was a calculated risk. On the one hoof, it was important for her to know what her students were capable of, which allowed for a more directed approach to teaching and helped them learn their limits at the same time. But on the other, putting a burden like that on a filly who hadn’t yet reached maturity—nevermind one who had already demonstrated that she possessed more power than a dozen unicorns put together—could very well be another negative association with magic for Twilight. That in particular was something Celestia wanted to avoid.

Still, perhaps four hours is enough for today. Those acceptance letters won’t write themselves, and checking in on Sunny might not be a bad idea.

She was brought out of her introspection by Twilight’s voice. “I can’t do it, Princess. I’m not good enough at magic,” the filly said meekly, frowning and keeping her gaze on the floor in front of her.

Celestia chuckled softly and walked back to the center of the dome. “Twilight, how many times do you think I have heard that sentence?”

Twilight looked up slowly, almost carefully. “A... a lot?”

“Precisely,” Celestia said with a nod. “And how many times do you think it was the truth?”

“Never?”

Celestia shook her head softly. “Unfortunately, that is not the reality of things. There have been some ponies who genuinely weren’t good enough at magic to remain my student. However...” She walked over, and lay down in front of Twilight so that their eyes were at the same height. “You are. If something is difficult, that doesn’t mean that it is impossible or that you aren’t good enough.”

“But we’ve been practicing for hours and I still can’t do it,” Twilight said, frowning again.

“And it will take dozens more before you can, and several hundreds after that before you are an expert.” Celestia smiled encouragingly. “That doesn’t mean that you are not good enough, Twilight, just that you need more practice. Now how about I demonstrate the spell before you try again?”

“Okay, Princess...”

Beginning her demonstration right away was made somewhat arduous by the fact that she had lain down, but after a few seconds to get up, she slowly assembled an illusion of a cube, starting with only a few lines. “For every spell, but illusions especially, it is important to start with the basic framework,” she told Twilight, adding a line every few seconds to give her student ample time to study them. “Simple geometric lines work best when you’re just starting out, though they don’t make for much of an illusion.”

“Because there aren’t a lot of cubes in the real world?”

“Very good, but knowing that can give you some interesting applications for a cube shape... like teaching a young filly about the basics of illusion.” She gave Twilight a wink and delighted in the smile she got in return. “Which means that, right now, a cube is just what we need.” In the part of her mind devoted to the spell, Celestia imagined the outside of the cube which she slowly let trickle down onto the illusion in the center of the room. “The next step is where imagining what an object would look like is very important. If it looks fake in your mind, it will likely look fake to anypony else as well.”

“But what does a perfect cube look like? I’ve never seen one before...”

Celestia laughed inwardly while she let the image in her mind color itself with a rosepetal red pattern. “You are looking at one right now, Twilight.”

The filly carefully scooted forward inch by inch until she was close enough to touch it. “I thought it was just an illusion?” she asked while bringing her hoof down. She looked surprised when her hoof collided with the cube before looking at Celestia with a renewed awe.

Celestia couldn’t take it anymore and laughed out loud, her illusionary cube disappearing along with the protective dome around the room. She rolled onto her side, clutching her belly with her hooves until Twilight appeared in front of her. The filly looked at her uncomprehendingly, and it took her but a moment to remember that there were guards present, both of whom were looking at her in a similar fashion.

“Did I do something wrong, Princess?”

Reigning in her laughter was a little harder than she would have liked. Still, Celestia quickly got to her hooves and adjusted her regalia. “Ahem...Tell me, Twilight, what do you think happened there?”

“I poked the cube and you started laughing...” Twilight rubbed the back of her head with a hoof. “Did you magically link it to your tickle sensory thingies?”

Even for all her restraint, Celestia couldn’t help but chuckle again. “An interesting theory, but no. Why do you think the cube was solid?”

“Because you didn’t make an illusion?”

“Or?” Celestia asked.

“Or...” Twilight looked back at where the cube had been. “Because you used magic to make it seem like it wasn’t?”

Celestia nodded. “When we talk about illusions, what we mean are images and pictures. Things that fool the eyes and not much else, but those are just the basics.” Though Twilight listened with perked ears, the filly’s attention seemed to have drifted. With a sigh she recreated the cube and gave Twilight a gentle push in its direction. “I am sorry, Twilight. I keep getting ahead of myself. Take your time to inspect it, and then try to make your own.”

“Okay!” Twilight set to her task eagerly and inspected the cubed image from every direction. She even tried to tap it with a hoof a few more times and let out a little ‘awh’ in disappointment every time it went right through. After a few minutes of inspection, it seemed she had learned all she could and tried to make one herself once again.

Watching the way Twilight wove spells together was fascinating. They weren’t particularly well designed, nor had Celestia expected them to be, but they worked. She suspected that the fact Twilight’s magic worked as it did would upset a whole lot of professors in her school for gifted unicorns. Ever since the formation of the Board of Magical Safety, a lot of unicorns were convinced there was one specific way by which they might cast magic; an assumption which Twilight’s casting would shatter like glass.

To say that she watched Twilight cast might have been the wrong terminology. Pure magical threads and runes were rarely, if ever, visible without a few heavy enchantments. Rather, if she closed her eyes, she could feel Twilight stitch ambient energy together through her horn, which was why she immediately noticed when something was off.

Twilight was drawing on way more power than she would need for a simple illusion. When Celestia opened her eyes she saw that Twilight’s intended target, an empty space next to her own cube, was being assaulted by magical lightning arcing from Twilight’s horn. She pushed aside the fear of another magical explosion and rushed forward. Before she got halfway, however, Twilight’s eyes briefly lit up before the magic cut out and she slumped forward with a stifled groan.

“Twilight!”

Her heart hammered in her chest while she sprinted the rest of the way. It filled itself with fear while her head tried to surpass it by filling with the much more potent panic. She tried to kneel before she had reached Twilight and ended up sliding the last few yards. Her first instinct was to roll Twilight over with her magic and check if the filly was still alive, but something made her hesitate. She knew that primed, unspent magic could prove volatile if disturbed and cause untold damage to both the holder and the one that activated it. Rather than taking the time to carefully diffuse and guide the excess energy away, she pushed Twilight over with her muzzle instead, before putting an ear to her chest.

Still breathing. Good.

Her guards were right behind her, coming to a halt only seconds later. “Is she alright, Princess?”

Celestia shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned to the two of them, halting for a moment while she pushed out the panic that was gaining the upper hoof in the struggle for her mental faculties. “Aegis, go get a doctor. No, two. A dozen if you can. Rook, make sure that the infirmary staff knows we’re coming.” A quick pair of salutes saw the two off in the direction of the door after which Celestia returned her attention to the filly who had somehow endeared herself to the princess in only a few days time. Don’t die on me now, Twilight.

Trying to get Twilight off the floor only made it clear to Celestia how much she relied on her magic. By the time she did finally manage to get Twilight onto her back using a combination of a hoof and both of her wings, panic had all but taken over and she bolted for the infirmary, slowing down only to ensure that Twilight was still secure on her back.

The fact that the infirmary was on the other side of the castle didn’t help Celestia’s state of mind. She thundered through the long hallways, using her magic to shove the ponies that were in the way aside if she couldn’t avoid them. One of the big double doors sealing the public area of the castle off from the living quarters was unlucky enough to be closed when she arrived there. The left half of the door, which barely held on to its hinges, escaped with only major charring across it while its more unfortunate counterpart was completely obliterated during Celestia’s passing.

Brief considerations were going through her mind about skipping the long winding hallways altogether and simply going through the wall. The small rational part of her mind that remained thankfully managed to persuade her from doing as much by suggesting that it could harm the filly who had started squirming and whining on her back... followed by a few items that were of little consequence to her right then, like the stability of the castle.

She cursed her own ineptitude. Twilight could very well be badly injured and all because she did not have enough experience dealing with foals. I should have stopped her earlier. I should have started with something easier. I should have done something! Round and round it went in her head, tempered only by the knowledge that Twilight was still in danger.

Finally, after skidding around the last corner during which she took a few bricks out of with her wing to avoid crashing into the opposite wall, the infirmary came into view. It wasn’t as big as a real hospital, nor as well equipped. Given that the castle itself housed a population equivalent to that of a small town, however, it was staffed by qualified medical personnel, which was precisely what she needed at that point.

Celestia’s little trip from one end of the castle to the other had taken only minutes and had likely left some more wayward destruction behind. All of that information only came across as a tiny voice in the back of her mind while she carefully tilted to the side to let Twilight slide onto a hospital bed via her left wing. Several ponies that had seen her entry looked a little bewildered at her sudden appearance, but at least the medical staff knew what had to be done and rushed forward to check on Twilight.

“She might have a charge of primed magic,” she said in between panting. Now that she allowed her body to feel the strain she had put upon it; the pain and exhaustion that made themselves known across her body made her add a mental note to take up her wartime training regimen again. A few of the medical staff flocked to her instead, worried about the bits of wood that were stuck in her chest and were painting the coat beneath it red, but she waved them off towards Twilight and pulled the pieces out with nary a grimace.

“What happened, Princess?” one of the nurses asked while soaking a small cloth in alcohol.

Though she presented a stoic facade while she and Twilight were being tended to, her inner turmoil was raging on unabated. Pushing away the panic and the fear had been easy enough once she knew Twilight was in good hooves, but that didn’t stop her mind from making accusations. They ranged from the resonable to the completely unrealistic, to the point where a thought came to her that she could have prevented everything if only she only had known more medical techniques.

Thankfully, the fact that there were ridiculous ideas among the storm of self-chastisement helped her quiet down somewhat. She finally sat down and allowed the nurse to tend to her properly, using the alcohol soaked cloth to dab at the blood stains on Celestia’s coat.

“I made a mistake,” she said simply, and left it at that. Her mood became somber when she realised how hard it was going to be for Twilight to use magic after this; or if Twilight would even want to remain her student after assigning the blame of it all to Celestia, something which she felt more than deserving of.

The nurse nodded, and though it was clear she had a lot of burning questions, she kept silent, which Celestia was grateful for. She was almost as grateful when Aegis arrived with four more doctors, all of whom were directed towards the bed the groaning filly was lying in.

She could swear she felt her heart stop when, after a brief deliberation, one of the unicorn doctors filled a syringe with a clear liquid and administered it to Twilight. Part of her mind was screaming at her to stop them lest she let another mistake happen, but with a supreme surge of will, she told herself that they knew what they were doing, young as they were in comparison.

“How is she?” Celestia asked when the outside doctors said their goodbyes and left the way they came. They’re going to charge an exorbitant rate, her mind whispered. She shooed the thought away and turned back to the collection of the doctors that lived in the castle.

The aging stallion looked at each of his colleagues in turn and only spoke after receiving a nod from each of them. “She will be alright, Princess. The problem seems to have been that she was trying to cast highly advanced spells whilst suffering from a minor case of malnutrition.”

“How minor?” she asked, realising from the looks on the doctor’s faces that her own must have featured a mixture of anger, fear, and fury, and that at least one of those three had seeped into her voice as well; right before coming to the conclusion that she didn’t care.

Another glance, another series of nods. “We can’t determine it exactly, Princess. But if I had to make an educated guess, I would surmise two, maybe three days at the most. Normally it would not pose a problem to a filly her age beyond a little dizziness and perhaps a little nausea. The demands her casting put on her body, however, amplified the need for sustenance, which in turn caused her to pass out.”

Between Twilight’s excitement and the food fight, it didn’t surprise Celestia that Twilight being hungry was the problem. “Bottom line?” she asked.

“The bottom line is that she will need to stay in bed and rest for at least two days, but beyond that, nothing is wrong with her. Though we recommend somepony to watch her carefully and make sure she eats properly.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and most of the tension that had been on her since the whole thing started drained with it. She let her expression, whichever one it was, slacken and sighed in relief. “Thank you for your swift response, everypony,” she told the equally relieved-looking doctors. With the tension gone, the responsibilities came flooding back along with a groan when she realised that her actions were going to make thing a lot more... interesting for Sunny.

“When will she wake up?” she asked, slipping back into the mantle of ruler as easily as most ponies breathed. Her voice returning to a warm pleasant tone and her face a calm gentle smile that put everypony at ease.

“Shouldn’t be too long, Princess,” another of the doctors said. “I expect she’ll be awake in an hour or two.”

Celestia nodded. “I want somepony to stay with her until I get back,” she said before getting up and striding out of the doorway, heedless of the nurse’s attempts to draw attention to the blood stains on her coat. She had fires to put out, both the literal and figurative kind.

Rook immediately fell into step beside her, and after only a few minutes, so too did Aegis, looking about as exhausted as she herself felt. “Thank you both,” she said at length as they made their way towards the courtroom.

“At your service, Princess,” Aegis replied in a chipper tone, while Rook just grunted. Though it was considered rude by most and an offense to the princess’ ‘sensibilities’ by others, Celestia was glad for a guard like Rook who did not even deign to respond to compliments and thanks. Though she wanted and despised ponies questioning her motives depending on the situation, ruling a kingdom would not have been possible without a few ponies that didn’t constantly stop to question everything; just as it wouldn’t work without ponies that did.

At the moment, however, she wished there were more ponies that didn’t feel the need to question everything. Especially when they passed the charred pieces of a carpet that had caught fire in her passing and had burned to a crisp before it could be put out. The nobles are going to have a field day with this.

And all of it could have been avoided if you had just paid a little more attention to your new student.

She was right. Though she wished that hadn’t been the case.

The courtroom, which was normally merely busy, was filled to bursting with ponies that were worried about the attacker that had waltzed through the castle without opposition, ponies that were worried about all the damage another perpetrator had caused, and ponies that were just worried; and all of them were looking at a lone, tense-looking unicorn mare who sat halfway up on the dias.

Sunny was sweating bullets, and had apparently been abandoned by any and all ponies she could lean on for support. It didn’t sit right with Celestia. Rare were the disturbances at the castle that didn’t have something to do with the alicorn, and she felt they might as well take it out on her rather than drowning her appointed replacement in needling questions and pointed looks.

“Wait outside,” she told her guards before disappearing in a flash of light and reappearing at the top of dias. “Ponies!” she shouted. The roar of the crowd continued unabated, her words having as much effect as a leaf in a hurricane.

“SILENCE!”

Amplifying her voice to the point where it shook the foundations of the castle might have been going a little overboard, but it got the job done. Where before there had been enough voices that their collective jabbering sounded like the ocean, now the room was so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

Letting go of her magic, Celestia continued in a normal tone of voice although she knew that she didn’t completely succeed in keeping her exhaustion out of it. “Anypony who has any questions about what transpired in the castle in the last hour, please raise your hooves.” She sighed when roughly three quarters of the ponies present raised their hooves and inclined her head in an apologetic nod. “I apologise to any of you that were frightened. The commotion was caused by myself whilst trying to get a pony to the infirmary in time.” Holding up a hoof when ponies started talking amongst themselves and congratulating the princess on her thoughtfulness helped everything settle down relatively quickly. “If you have any further questions, you may direct them towards Sunny Scrolls in an orderly fashion, but for now, please vacate the room. This court will adjourn for a brief recess.”

With a little help from the guards to make sure things remained orderly, the big hall was swiftly emptied, leaving only the two guards at the door, Celestia herself, and a none too pleased-looking Sunny Scrolls. “What happened?” the mare asked, turning around on the dias so she could look at Celestia. When she had, however, her mouth fell open and remained there, much to Celestia’s confusion.

“Sunny? Is something wrong?”

In two steps and a jump Sunny was next to her, inspecting her from up close. “Princess, you’re hurt! How did... what happened?”

“A consequence of a consequence.”

“Princess!” Sunny shook with suppressed anger. Handling court all by herself hadn’t left much of her composure intact; then again, that too was partially Celestia’s fault. “What mistake did you make that left you bloodied?”

Celestia beckoned one of the guards near the door over with a subtle wing gesture while she regarded Sunny, waiting for her to calm down a little. “My mistake was getting ahead of myself in Twilight’s lectures. She collapsed and I rushed her to the infirmary,” she said calmly.

“But that doesn’t explain—”

“During which I went through a statue and a door, made an indentation in three different corners of the castle and almost barged through a wall.” Sunny’s retord died in her throat, and she closed her mouth a few seconds later, which gave Celestia the opportunity ask some questions of her own. “Where is the council?”

Sunny shook her head. “I don’t know. They weren’t here when I arrived.”

Celestia looked at the guard that had come to a halt at a respectful distance. “Could you locate the councilmembers and tell them that they are expected to return to the castle?” she asked him. He saluted and took off in a canter while Celestia looked back at Sunny.

Even through the facade of annoyance that the mare had been wearing like a shield, it was clear that she was exhausted, which was something Celestia was more familiar with than she would like. Even if it wasn’t strictly necessary to remember everypony both by name and problem, it did make for a more efficient court proceeding. However, efficient also meant that more ponies came by in a day, and only having one pony to handle the proceedings was more than a little taxing on that individual.

Perhaps Sunny had intuited the appraising look Celestia had given her, or perhaps it was due to the fact that she had over a decades worth of experience around Celestia, but without any prompting she said, “Court went well, for the most part anyway.”

Celestia let a smile play across her lips. “I am glad to hear it. Though perhaps—”

Vehemently shaking her head, Sunny said, “No. I took this job to give you more free time in your schedule- Having you here would defeat the purpose.”

“I was going to suggest we discuss the fate of the current ‘council’ and the formation of a new one,” Celestia replied innocently, enjoying a few all too brief moments of levity watching Sunny sputter before giving her a measured laugh. “Did you have anypony in mind?”

“Yes, Princess. Several of them, in fact.”

I just have one, and I would like to get back to the infirmary before she wakes up. There was a brief moment wherein she warred with her impatience before finally saying. “Alright then, take me through the list.”

For the first time since Celestia had entered the courtroom, Sunny smiled. “Well, Princess, I was thinking that...”

Less than an hour later, Celestia stepped into hallway leading to the infirmary wearing a small smile. Appointing Sunny as her replacement had been the right call, the mare already having made a clear list of whos and whys for her own council. It wasn’t perfect, of course—few things ever were—but it only needed a few adjustments to work as well as Sunny thought it would. With a little luck and some training, the ponies in question could even be called upon to advise on matters of state beyond those flowing through open court on a daily basis. Her smile turned sour when she remembered that even the advice of a foal was more useful than that of her own council.

The smile disappeared completely when she found that the infirmary wasn’t in the state she had left it in. Every single one of the medical staff was running around as if time had been turned back and she had just come in with Twilight. Much to her consternation, it quickly became clear why.

“Why hasn’t he received the proper care yet? Do I really need to remind you oafs who you are dealing with?”

Even before laying eyes on the mare, Celestia knew exactly who that shrill voice belonged to. Dread and bile were already rising in her throat at the thought of having to deal with the Duchess, but for the staff—and more importantly, the patients—to get any more rest that day, she was going to have to. First, however, she had to find out what brought the shrew to the infirmary in the first place.

She quickly found out that yelling at the staff was both unnecessary and completely out of proportion. When she stepped into the portion of the infirmary where the Duchess was busy terrorizing the nurses, she found Blueblood, the young son of the Duchess, sitting on one of the stretchers with a small cut near one of his fetlocks; undoubtedly the result of another of his stunts that were becoming more idiotic by the day.

“What is going on here?” Celestia asked calmly, choosing a spot right behind the mare that would guarantee the desired result.

The next few seconds played out exactly like she expected them to.

“What’s going on here? My son is grievously injured!” Duchess Blueblood shrieked. “Who are you to A—” It was at that point in the sentence that she bumped into Celestia’s leg and fell silent whilst she gazed up at her sovereign ruler. “Princess! My deepest apologies,” she began anew, bowing and taking a few steps back, bumping into one of the nurses that was trying to apply a bandage to the younger Blueblood. There was no more screaming at anypony for being clumsy or late, and even though her eyes smouldered with a detached sort of rage, the Duchess forced a smile and thanked the medical staff for their help, after which she sent her son ahead before turning back to Celestia. “Princess, you have my deepest apologies for bumping into you. Though might I ask what brings you here?” Her tone was nothing less than saccharinely sweet, and it made Celestia’s skin crawl.

“Duchess,” Celestia replied evenly, trying her best not to sink to the mare’s level. “I heard screaming coming from the infirmary and I was worried that something terrible might have happened.”

Glancing over to Twilight’s bed to make sure she was doing alright was a mistake she knew she was going to regret making even before the Duchess followed her eyes. “Oh my, what happened to your personal student?” the mare asked, winding enough emphasis around the word ‘personal’ to turn it into a barbed implication of negligence.

True to form, Celestia thought bitterly, keeping her face impassive while the mare looked around in smug self-assurance. “You mean Twilight? She was a little overzealous in learning about Alicorn magic and overexerted herself.” The dark look passing over the Duchess’ face let Celestia know she had hit her first mark. “But with a little rest and a few good meals she will be fine. So don’t worry, your son will never have to undergo such rigorous training.”

That she had hit another nerve was evidenced by the Duchess’ less than amicable narrowing of the eyes, which in turn made Celestia have to suppress a sigh. Fighting with words, or ‘social fencing’ as the nobility called it, was an exhausting battle where one always had to watch what they were saying. Attacking, parrying, sidestepping and even redirecting, it was all part of an elaborate ritualised way to establish dominance, and as the de facto leader of the herd, Celestia had to win every single time or risk ridicule. Thankfully, their surroundings weren’t the most auspicious of places, which would soften any missteps she made here, though it didn’t mean that nothing would leak out to the populace eventually.

She was almost caught by surprise when she caught the smirk on Blueblood’s face before the mare twisted it into a semi-sympathetic smile and asked “A few good meals? Is the poor dear sick? Or perhaps it is exhaustion from her ordeals under your tutelage?”

A thrust and a lunge? It’s not like her to be so aggressive. “Not at all. Unlike some of the ponies I worked with in the past, she has more than enough power to keep up with me.” Celestia let her sentence hang at the halfway point, just long enough to make clear which young pony in particular she was referring to.

Duchess Blueblood didn’t seem to be deterred by the figurative wound she had suffered, and merely continued in a casual tone as if she was having a pleasant conversation. “Just make sure she eats enough. Stars know that Blooey’s nanny had the hardest time getting him to eat when he was still a foal.”

The implication didn’t sit well with Celestia. “Twilight is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

Blueblood all but pounced on the statement, like she had been waiting for Celestia to go into the defensive. “Very much a debatable issue, I say. Perhaps she isn’t as mature as Your Highness seems to think if she landed herself in a hospital bed whilst trying to please her sovereign ruler.” She continued with another attack without any chance of a reply. “Or perhaps she simply isn’t mature enough to handle the pressure that being a student of such a mighty icon brings with it.”

Celestia silently gnashed her teeth together in frustration. She had neither the time nor the patience for a protracted wordy fencing match. “Duchess...”

Perhaps she had underestimated the mare; she was apparently smarter than she let on during their normal jousts. Perhaps it was because she smelled a weak spot. “The poor dear looks so weak. I bet she would give most anything to be back home with her parents. Regrettably, Your Highness’ duties have precluded you from any worthwhile maternal experience, which no doubt plays a factor in the filly’s problems,” the Duchess said as she walked over to Twilight’s bed.

The grin on the Duchess’ face when Celestia cut her off and protectively shielded the bed from view with her body was nothing short of stomach-curling. She had found her weak spot.

Celestia had had enough. “Her parents entrusted her to my care, and she seems quite happy to—”

“Well perhaps they made an error then, didn’t they?” the Duchess said, smugness dripping from her words while she circled the bed. The worst thing about the situation was that it made it seem like like she was one pulling the strings; forcing Celestia to move if she wanted to keep the Duchess away from the bed Twilight was in. “After all, nopony but our fair Princess Celestia is perfect.”

Perhaps this...? “If you don’t trust my judgement, why would you wish for your son to become my student?”

Throwing her hair back with a laugh only made the mare seem more in control, and worse, made Celestia seem like a fool. “While your judgement surrounding the choice of your students might be flawed, there is no doubt that they are, bar none, the most powerful unicorns of their time and will go down in history.”

“Power is hardly a part of the way I select my students, Duchess. Intelligence and character are much more important, which is exactly why I never considered him in the first place.”

Either the Duchess was having too much of a good time, or she really wasn’t as smart as she currently looked. Whatever the case, she seemed to be unaware of just how dangerously she had pushed Celestia to the edge of her patience, taking a few more steps so she could see Twilight before shrugging. “Perhaps after this poor runt inevitably gives up or kills herself, you’ll reconsider.”

It was the last drop in the proverbial bucket; though only if the bucket exploded afterwards. Because that was what Celestia did. With a roar of frustration and anger Celestia reared onto her hindhooves and when she brought them down the entire castle shook. The adrenaline and the anger blocked the outlets from which Celestia constantly discharged her magic: Her hair. Within seconds, her entire mane and tail had been engulfed by flame, blazing with an intensity akin to the sun itself. Unlike the sun, however, Celestia did not actually vaporize everything in her vicinity, though it did make the Duchess shy back in awe and fear. She wasn’t the only one. All around the room, ponies who were awake enough to see or hear her were hiding behind whatever they could find, desperate to escape the gaze of the goddess they had recently learned was terrifying if she wanted to be.

“Alright, you insipid insect that passes for a mare!” she thundered. “You shall have your wish! You wanted your son to become my student?”

Blueblood blubbered around for a few seconds before finally managing a shaky nod.

“So be it! In a week’s time, I will test your son and my student. If he can measure up to this filly less than half his age, I will accept him as my student.”

Though her dress hid the fact, the room began to smell like the Duchess had lost control over her bladder. Nevertheless, she managed a thin, victorious smile. At least until Celestia spoke again. “Make no mistake, Duchess. If he does not measure up, not having a famous son will be the least of your worries!”

Anything else Celestia might have wanted to get off her chest was a lost cause. Duchess Blueblood finally found she had strength in her legs and let them carry her off to somewhere that wasn’t the infirmary. She took most of Celestia’s anger with her, and before long, the fiery mane and tail settled down and returned to the multi-hued hair ponies were accustomed to.

I should not have done that... Why did I do that? She let out a long-suffering sigh. The Duchess had been well overdue for a good reprimand, but for Celestia, losing her temper was inexcusable. The sun did not become angry with the clouds for obstructing her sight. No, it just vaporizes them. Not helpful.

“P-Princess?” To Celestia’s shame, Twilight sounded... scared.

Of all the times she could have woken up, why did it have to be now? Plastering a comforting smile on her face, she turned around to regard the filly.

Despite a little paleness around the cheeks, Twilight thankfully looked completely healthy. Her ears were turning in every which direction, and her horn sparked a little, giving the impression that she was testing if everything was still attached. The only thing off was her eyes. If it hadn’t been for the fear that was clearly readable in them, Celestia would have probably given her a hug.

“Good evening, Twilight,” the princess said, sitting down next to the bed and grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand that had been left there for when Twilight woke up.

“I’m sorry.”

Keeping her smile intact became harder and harder for Celestia while she considered the fear her anger might have caused in her student. Especially after learning that the filly already had problems with low self-esteem. “Why are you sorry, Twilight?”

“I...” Twilight looked around timidly. “I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong,” she said quickly, sitting up and scooting towards the edge of the bed. “But I’ll do better next time! I promise.”

Celestia shook her head softly before wrapping Twilight in a thin tendril of magic and levitating her back to the pillows. “Twilight, you have to stay in bed for now.”

That finally made the filly settle down. “Are you going to yell at me now?” came the timid question.

A sigh escaped Celestia before she could stop it, and she dropped the fake smile along with it. She regarded Twilight with a sad frown which made the filly squirm before saying. “I am not angry with you, but that mare...” She fell silent, trying to think of the best way to put it.

“She was being a bad mare, wasn’t she? I bet she wanted to ruin something important.”

“She was being a very bad mare, Twilight. A bad mare who was trying to ruin something very important.” Celestia put the glass in Twilight’s hooves so that the filly could drink and waited until half of the contents had disappeared past the filly’s lips before she continued. “But that doesn’t mean I had the right to get angry like I did, and I’m sorry you had to see it.”

It took Twilight a few moments to process that information, crossing her forelegs while frowning thoughtfully. The way the expression pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows together made Celestia smile again. It took a while before Twilight finally nodded. “It was a little scary, but I think I understand.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Twilight.”

She should have expected the next question out of Twilight’s mouth, but she didn’t. “Could you teach me how to do that fiery hair thing?”

The question was incredibly silly, but it made sense given Twilight penchant for wanting to alter her mane; and In this instance, Celestia supposed Twilight was allowed to be a little silly. She laughed softly, glad to be rid of the awful feelings that came with losing her cool, if only for a brief moment.

It was a rare unguarded moment, one her sneaky student capitalised on by trying to vacate her bed once more. She would have succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for the doctor that chose that moment to arrive. Celestia’s laughter redoubled when Twilight, forelegs crossed and scowling at her captor, was levitated back onto the bed by the scruff of her neck.

“Sorry, little one, but you need to stay in bed.”

“Why?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “Because you collapsed earlier today. You have to take better care of yourself and make sure that you eat enough.”

“Oh...” Twilight’s scowl made way for an apologetic look which she aimed at the doctor first, and Celestia second. “Sorry.”

The doctor shook his head. “It’s alright. Mistakes happen. Right now, though, you really need to eat something.”

“Doctor?” Celestia said gently, her mind refusing to let her failure pass without some reparations, even if Twilight didn’t blame her. “Could she go without a meal for five more minutes? I wanted to ask the cooks to make her something special.”

He looked between Celestia’s patient, if tired, gaze and Twilight’s grin which was rapidly outpacing her face’s ability to stretch wide enough. “I guess it couldn’t do any real harm.”

“Yay!" Twilight bounced up and down on the bed, using the entire surface to convey her happiness. Right up till the moment she almost bounced right off the bed, and was only saved due to quick intervention from the doctor.

He put her back onto the bed for a second time and cleared his throat. “As long as you promise to stay in bed and rest.”

“I do! I promise!” Twilight all but yelled at him before turning to Celestia. “If I stay here, can I have creepies again? And pancakes with maple syrup? Oh oh oh, and celery stalks with those little tomatoes in them?”

Every word that came out of Twilight’s mouth added another dish to the list until it started to resemble an entire trade agreement, written in triplicate. Not only that, but the longer she went on the more elaborate the ideas became until Celestia finally stopped her by putting a hoof to her mouth, which muffled the last three suggestions before Twilight got the message.

“That’s quite enough, Twilight. It would be quite ironic if you ate yourself to death while trying to recover from malnutrition.”

“Princess?” Twilight asked while she wiggled herself back under the blankets.

“Yes, Twilight?”

“What does ‘Ironic’ mean?”

Celestia smiled and booped Twilight’s nose with a hoof “We’ll get to that some other time. Right now, you need to lay down and rest, young lady.”

“How long do I have to stay in bed?”

The doctor checked her temperature with a hoof and made her say ‘ahhh’ before replying. “If all goes well, you can return to your studies tomorrow.”

His answer put an immediate dampener on Twilight’s spirits. “But what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I could die of boredom!”

“Rest,” The doctor told her, writing down a few things on a notepad which he put back into the foot end of the bed when he was done. “Your body needs time to recover, so eat when the princess comes back with your meal. And try to sleep when you’re bored.”

Celestia winked at her student. “Hang in there, Twilight. I will be back soon.”

“Princess! What brings you to the tropical atmosphere of the Canterlothian Kitchens?” Honey Mead called out to her when she walked down the small five-step flight of wooden stairs leading to the subterranean basement the kitchens were situated in. “I would hope it’s because you could smell the aroma of my newest recipe: ‘Bamboo a la Honey’ but since the aroma of the kitchens doesn’t reach that far, I’m going to take a guess and say you’re here for some other delicacy.”

Celestia smiled at him, though she did not respond right away. It was always a guess on her part, wondering if he actually expected a response to his greeting. And though she did mentally add his newest dish to the list Twilight wanted to try, she decided to go with the standard this time and said, “Good evening, Mead.” The stallion poured golden syrup over the top of a colorful tower, and anything with honey in it was sure to be a delicacy in the filly’s eyes.

“The best of evenings, Princess,” he replied, carefully balancing a few delicate looking twigs on top of an assortment of fruits which in turn had been carefully placed into a mostly hollowed-out watermelon. “And Voila!” With a flourish that only barely missed his latest creation, he turned around and presented it with a hoof. “I would say it was made for you, Princess, but that would be lie.” He looked at the tower of fruit over his shoulder and lovingly adjusted a few of the leftover pieces that were scattered around on the plate. “This marvelous creation was made for anypony that enjoys the taste of good food.” With his final inspection completed, he turned back to Celestia and adjusted his belly. “So, Princess, what can I do for you? Light afternoon snack? Early dinner? Perhaps something extra for that little filly?”

“Her name is Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia told him, looking around the kitchens to see if there were any other meals that had already been prepared. Overburdening the cooks with Twilight’s entire runaway menu was not really what she had in mind, yet at the same time, she wanted to make sure it was special.

“As long as she learns to handle her levitation, she is more than welcome to the family.” He briefly turned away from her to holler at what could have been a younger version of himself whom was stirring half a dozen pots at the same time. “Hey, Barley! That stew is ready to be served to the boys in armor.” He turned back to Celestia with a smile. “Sorry about that. Gotta keep things running here. Where is that walking cutlery disaster anyhow?”

“That’s why I’m here actually. Twilight fainted due to malnutrition and was brought to the infirmary.”

“Malnutrition?” Mead chuckled and shook his head. “Nonsense! I made her crepes myself! Put in some extra filling to boot. The only way she didn’t get enough is... if...” He fell silent before sighing and looking up at Celestia. “She was in the middle of that food fight, wasn’t she?”

Celestia nodded. “Although she didn’t so much participate voluntarily as by accident.”

“More trouble, huh? Wouldn’t put it past her. You mind talking while I resume my work? Lots of dishes to be prepared and it’s almost dinner time.” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing a whole slew of dirty dishes and depositing them into some soapy water before grabbing two pans. In moments he had a fire going on the stove and poured oil, added butter and was cutting chunks out of a hunk of broccoli the size of his head. “Okay, now... how can I help?”

“Twilight was really looking forward to trying some crepes, but she also wished to try a few other things. Do you think you could make that happen without ruining dinner for everypony else?”

The earth pony pounded his chest with one hoof while the other dexterously flipped a turnover into the air and caught it with the same grace. “Princess, if there’s anything I know how to do, it’s food. Little Twilight ‘Disaster’ Sparkle is gonna get all the food she can eat.”

Celestia had half a mind to berate him for giving her a nickname like that. Though she trusted Mead himself not to go spreading something like that around—he was much too good-natured and honest to make a pony look bad in that manner—If others caught it, it could prove disastrous for Twilight’s self-esteem. “Do you have foals, Mead?” she found herself asking instead while debating coming around the kitchens more often. The aromas were nothing short of mouthwatering and Mead had most certainly turned the creation of food into an art form.

“Two strong boys and one devil of a girl, Princess.” Mead halted his attack on the melon currently occupying his chopping board and looked up to the ceiling in thought. “She’s about as much trouble as Twilight, now that I think about it.” He shrugged and continued with his work. “Must be something about fillies that age.”

Celestia glanced around, trying to gauge how many ponies would overhear what they were talking about. “And what do you do when you need to keep her entertained for a few hours?” she continued despite herself. Asking questions like these made her feel like she was exposing one of the few chinks in the armor that was her image, but she had long realised she was going to need some help, or at the very least information.

“Put ‘er in the kitchen and tell ‘er to go nuts.” Mead ran a hoof through his scraggly mane while looking around before ducking underneath one of the many cooking islands. “Kid’ll make a fine cook some day, just like the boys.”

Celestia chuckled at the idea of foals amusing themselves in the kitchen and walked with Mead when he moved to another part of the kitchens. In many ways he was an overseer, only stepping in when something threatened to go wrong, and working on his own projects only when nopony else needed help. “What if that wasn’t an option?

Mead looked at her knowingly before laughing and shaking his head. “Filly’s bored, eh?” He took out another watermelon and cleaved it in half with one chop. “Could always send her down to the kitchens. I’ll keep her occupied.”

“That would be rather difficult. She’s been told to stay in bed and rest.”

“Well...” Mead scratched his head again. “What’s she like besides magicking things up? Running around the castle? Guess that’d be out too... perhaps you could read her a bedtime story? Or just talk. Fillies that age love talking, I tell you. Mine can go on for hours if I don’t stop ‘er.”

So can you, Celestia thought with a smile of her own. “Thank you, Mead. I think I may have an idea.” She gestured towards the tower of fruit that was his latest creation. “Could you bring one of those, together with crepes and some other sweets to her?”

Mead bowed deeply, almost comically so, and said, “Consider it done, Princess.”

Leaving the cook to his preparations, Celestia left the kitchens and set a course for Twilight’s bedroom, taking a brief detour to set the sun from her balcony. Twilight loved reading; that much she knew for sure, and though that didn’t necessarily have to mean she would enjoy being read to, Celestia was willing to bet on the fact that she did. Even if it turned out not to be the case, her Daring Do book would at least keep her occupied for the rest of the evening.

The chaos the room was in when she stepped through the door was a little odd. Not that it had ever been the most tidy of places, but most of the bookcases were empty, their contents scattered all over the floor. Fortunately, the Daring Do book was right where Twilight had left it. She snatched it up and turned around. A maid could always clean up the mess later; right now she wanted to get back to Twilight.

She was ambushed the moment she stepped out of the room.

Although ‘ambush’ might have been a big word for it. The moment she emerged from Twilight’s room, she came face to face with six distinguished stallions and two dignified mares. Or at least they liked to think of themselves as such. Their leader, an aging stallion by the name of Blustering Wind, stepped forward and thoroughly cleared his throat. Celestia recognised it as a prelude to a lengthy tirade by the unicorn, but was too late to stop him.

“Your Majesty,” The stallion began in his deep droning voice. “My esteemed colleagues and I recently learned that Your Highness has appointed a young unicorn to the position of Court Overseer.” The way he uttered the words ‘young’ and ‘unicorn’ made it clear that he would much rather have been screaming obscenities that such a thing had been allowed to happen. “It was our understanding that, if somepony should need to... ah... ‘replace’ you in that capacity, it would be—” he gestured towards the eight of them “—one of us, as we are most qualified to fill such a role. Not to mention that only we really have the experience with...”

Celestia regarded him patiently, waiting for him to finish his first barrage of statements. She knew that trying to get a word in edgewise would simply upset him and make him more uncooperative. From the corner of her eyes she could see Rook’s eyes glaze over, making her aware of just how boring the stallion could be if one actually listened to him.

“—Therefor we demand an explanation as to why a... a commoner was chosen and we were not consulted on the matter.” Blustering Wind finished up his monologue and stepped back after which all eight ponies looked at Celestia in anticipation of the explanation they felt they deserved.

Celestia felt they deserved expulsion from the castle, but she decided to provide an explanation as well, as much for their education as for her own satisfaction.. “Well,” she began lightly. “I did not consult you on this matter because I did not feel the need to. Your overall level of involvement in the ruling of this country was lackluster at best, and more than once have my decrees gone unanswered because the lot of you will not deign to do your jobs properly.”

“Your Majesty!” Bluster stepped forward but Celestia held up a hoof.

“I wasn’t finished,” she said calmly, waiting until the stallion backed down. “Furthermore, this ‘young unicorn’ you speak of has been my personal assistant for almost two decades. While she demonstrably has not been at the castle as long as yourselves, she has made herself invaluable to both myself and many of the castle’s staff—”

“But Your Majesty! Each and every one of us comes from a long line of noble ponies, and we have all distinguished ourselves in the areas we represent on your council!” Bluster stomped a hoof on the floor, inadvertently waking up Rook who fell into a defensive posture and almost jumped the unicorn before he realised that there was no attack.

“Ah yes, the council. Good of you to bring that up, Bluster,” Celestia replied without missing a beat. “From this point onward I am disbanding the council and dismissing all of you. You will receive the pension benefits befitting a servant of the crown in recognition of your families’ past services to your country, but you will no longer be allowed inside the castle’s private areas.”

Of the eight ponies, one mare fainted, one stallion pushed his way to the front screaming the same obscenities Bluster had probably been thinking about, and the rest were in a state of shock. “But you... you can’t do this!” one of them called out. “We have—”

“You have made a mockery out of court by treating it as a buffet, debated endlessly over the most inane of trifles, and have failed to do your duty as councilors in actually providing council regarding the state of this country. All of that has been managed by either myself or other ponies I have come to trust. They will become my new council when the opportunity for promotion presents itself, and that all starts here.”

Two of the councilors got into an argument amongst themselves and began a fight right there in the hallway. They were broken up by Rook and Aegis, but not before having come to blows. The mare that hadn’t fainted started crying and asked.“W-what are we supposed to do?”

Celestia regarded her with pity. “I would recommend you pack. You have two days to gather your belongings and depart the castle. Should you require transport, I will make chariots available which will take you wherever you need to go. Arrangements can also be made to provide you with temporary lodgings at the crown’s expense, should you be unable to find such for yourselves. I will even consider giving you some assistance in finding another job; however, your time here is at an end.”

Blustering Wind had been deadly silent after the tumult behind him had started, but by the way he shook, it quickly became clear he wasn’t going to go quietly. “This is an outrage! I demand that we put this to a vote and see who the people will want to follow!”

For him, Celestia didn’t even have pity to spare. She sighed and shook her head before ordering Rook and Aegis to take the whole bunch away. They quickly received help from a patrol and before long the entire mob had been led away. Sighing again, Celestia resumed her trek back to the infirmary. Having to fire ponies who worked hard was never pleasant, but finally getting rid of the eight of them was a relief. She would have to take a good long look at the way she selected her councilors, and perhaps experiment with an independent contractor to make sure they wouldn’t fall prey to the same complacency these had.

When she returned to the infirmary, she found it a much livelier place than the one she had left behind. Where before there had been only been a few medical staff member tending to the sick, now the room was filled with ponies walking around. It wasn’t until she saw one of the frumpled white toques that she got an inkling of what was going on. Carts were being pushed around and left behind in favor of domed trays which were deposited right on ponies’ beds. In the middle of it all sat Twilight Sparkle, trying very hard (and failing) to sit still while observing the goings on of her surroundings with a massive grin.

“Princess!” The filly yelled when she spotted Celestia, looking for a moment like she would leap off of the bed and right onto Celestia’s back in sheer excitement. “Do you see how many ponies there are?!”

Navigating the chaos took a little doing. On three separate occasions, Celestia had to either dodge out of the way or sidestep ponies before she could make it to the bed. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked, bemused.

Twilight giggled and pointed at one of the food carts. “Mister Mead came to bring me creepies and something he called ‘Bamboo Honey’ but then he saw somepony else eat something... bad?” The filly shrugged. “He said that it wasn’t food before running off, and when he came back, he had all these other ponies with him and they all had carts with lots more yummies!”

Nodding throughout Twilight’s explanation, Celestia sat down and let her eyes wander over all the food that had been piled up next to the bed. The crepes were there, as was Mead’s bamboo dish, yet none of it had been touched.

“Twilight, why aren’t you eating?”

Twilight followed her gaze and her smile fell, slightly. “Oh... well... the doctor said I shouldn’t use magic until tomorrow, and I didn’t want to make a mess like before so...”

“So you decided not to eat?” A tiny spark of anger ignited and Celestia had to surpress it before she continued. “Twilight, you have to take better care of yourself.”

Celestia didn’t know if she hadn’t quite managed to ward the anger from her voice, or if Twilight simply intuited her words as such, but the filly shrugged helplessly. Her smile faded entirely and she sat down in front of Celestia. “I always end up making a mess. I didn’t want to be a both—” The rest of her sentence was cut short by a piece of fruit Celestia levitated right into her mouth. Twilight’s first reaction was a confused look, but after she chewed and found the taste to her liking, it was gone in an instant.

“If you’re not going to eat by yourself, I suppose I will just have to feed you, won’t I?” Celestia said with a soft smile, already levitating another chunk of fruit from the veritable mountain available.

Twilight giggled and opened her mouth wide. “Ahhh.” It was impossible for Celestia not to think of her as a newborn chick begging its mother for more, prompting her to giggle as well before she fed Twilight another piece, before switching over to the crepes.

They sat there amongst the patients for a long time, while Twilight devoured anything and everything Celestia put in front of her. They made it through the crepes, a set of apple fritters, Mead’s bamboo creation and almost half of a carrot cake, the other half of which Celestia ate herself. By the time the cooks took the rest of the food with them back to the kitchens, Twilight stretched languidly and didn’t object when Celestia floated her back to the pillows.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Could you ask somepony to get my book?” Twilight wiggled underneath the blankets but her movements were similarly starting to become languid and sluggish. “I wanted to—” she interrupted herself with a yawn “—to read a chapter before I go to bed.”

Celestia had almost forgotten about the book, focused as she had been on feeding Twilight. It had given her a feeling of satisfaction that was at the same time curious and wonderful, and she wondered if this feeling was what mothers felt when taking care of their children. When Twilight mentioned the book, she recalled what Mead had said and showed her student the book. “I thought you might want to do that.”

Rather than reach out, Twilight hid herself under the covers until only her horn betrayed her presence. The pile of blankets took a few deep breaths before asking, “Princess, can you read me a story?”

Having been about to suggest the same thing, Celestia was puzzled by her student’s actions. She nevertheless opened the book and began reading. Finding the spot Twilight had left off wasn’t difficult as the bookmark had been placed meticulously, and once she began reading, she quickly became immersed in the story.

“The jungles were filled with danger, but an experienced explorer like Daring Do knew just where to place her hooves to avoid all the poisonous plants. When she found a few broken twigs and a trap for an Ursa Minor, she knew the two poachers, Rough and Tumble had to be close. Slowly she crept through the underbrush, ready to surprise the two goons that had set up camp next to the river...”

“—but Daring was too fast. She ducked and kicked Tumble in the head while his blade flew away harmlessly. Rough had gotten away, but tracking him down was a mission for another time. Today, all she had to do was disarm the traps before heading home.” Celestia turned the page and noticed that she had already read two chapters. She levitated the book a few inches to the side and looked at Twilight. The filly was sleeping peacefully though the blankets were still covering half her face.

Celestia smiled and rearranged the blankets a little before looking around the rest of the infirmary. Most ponies had long since gone to sleep, and the night-shift had just arrived. Looking back at Twilight she was once again overcome by the feeling of kinship, or perhaps it was something else. She wasn’t sure. Before her mind made her second-guess herself, she leaned over and gave her student a kiss on the forehead. Motherly. She felt motherly, and it was a wonderful feeling.

“Goodnight, Twilight,” she said softly before sitting back down, briefly debating to spend the night here or in her own chambers. The decision was made for her when she turned to the nightstand to put away the book, and her eye fell on the first sentence. She pulled the book back in front of her and lost herself to the fictional world once more, silently mouthing the words as if she was still reading to her student.

Small Problems

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Twilight Sparkle was annoyed in a grumpy, sleepy sort of way.

After the ordeals of the previous day, she had gratefully embraced sleep when it arrived. As is often the case when mixing impressionable youth with an excitement-filled day, however, her sleep had been light and fitful, and she awoke at the crack of dawn. She grumbled under her breath, having been woken from her sleep by what her dreaming mind had interpreted as an earthquake. Half asleep, she wondered if she could convince her mother to let her sleep in. Her bed was much too comfortable to vacate; she had a wonderfully soft pillow and her blanket felt softer than it had ever been! Satisfied that there weren’t any alarms going off (either the magical or the motherly kind), she let out a content sigh and nuzzled into her pillow, tugging on the soft, warm blanket before attempting to recapture what was left of her dreams.

The dreams remained absent, sending their little brothers, thoughts and memories, to bother Twilight instead. Like a slow motion movie, the past day came back to her frame by frame. Waking up, hiding from the pretty mare, the food fight, the lesson... She squeed quietly at the warm feeling that accompanied the thought. The lesson had been wonderful, at least until she’d collapsed. With another sigh, she nuzzled into her pillow and tried to forget what a colossal failure the day had been.

Until she hit a wet patch on her pillow.

In an instant, Twilight was very much awake, and scared. Keeping her eyes closed tightly, she felt around with her hind legs and, to her relief, found nothing but warm, dry bedding. She had never drooled in her sleep as far as she could remember, and wetting the bed was something she desperately wanted to avoid. Last month was an accident, she told herself. It won’t happen again. Sufficiently assured that it wasn’t her own doing, she cautiously opened her eyes. Even in the dim light of the moon, she could make out the contours of her teacher, and the sight that greeted her made her stifle a giggle.

Princess Celestia, regal and powerful ruler of Equestria, was slumped over the bed, drooling on Twilight’s pillow while her left cheek was busily trying to fuse with the Daring Do book she was sleeping on. Her crown was missing, and the soft blanket Twilight had been using turned out to be one of her wings. On an impulse, Twilight reached out and stroked the soft downy plumage, giggling when an errant feather tickled her hoof.

“Princess?”

Celestia groaned and limply swatted at the voice that was disrupting her blissful dreams. Twilight wouldn’t let up, however; it was time for the sun to rise, and she couldn’t do it by herself... yet.

“Princess, you need to wake up! Otherwise the morning is going to be late!”

When her mentor didn’t budge the second time, Twilight huffed and wiggled underneath one of Celestia’s forelegs before lifting it with Ursaean effort, which put her face to sleeping face with the alicorn. Using one of her hooves, Twilight lifted Celestia’s left eyelid, scowling when it drifted closed while she tried to open the right one.

“Princess!”

The only response she got was a sleepy, incomprehensible mumble from Celestia, after which her mentor’s horn lit up and she was blinded.

In one bright flash the entire world was bathed in light as the sun skipped morning and jumped straight to noon. Its caretaker, on the other hoof, only mumbled some more before nuzzling into the sheets and drawing her forelegs towards her chest, trapping Twilight against her cheek like a teddy bear and dumping the book she had been using as makeshift pillow to the floor.

Twilight was worried. Just a little. Not only had she inadvertently jump-started the day by prodding her mentor as she had, but she had also gotten caught in an uncomfortable embrace by that same pony. If that had been all, she probably wouldn’t have minded. Celestia’s mane and tail constantly radiated a soothing aura of warmth while her coat was softer than any blankets Twilight had ever felt, and would have lulled her back to sleep if it weren’t for one minor problem.

She had to pee.

Before, she had been relieved that she wouldn’t have to explain wetting the bed to anypony, especially not Celestia. If the princess didn’t let go soon, however... “No!” Twilight shook her head. That was not going to happen. She squirmed and twisted in Celestia’s embrace, eventually going so far as to try to lift the princess with her magic. To her surprise, she succeeded, although she immediately wished she hadn’t. Whether it was because she was still technically recovering, or because the sleeping princess had overruled her decision, she didn’t know; what she did know was that she had somehow managed to levitate the princess onto the bed fully. It meant that she was more tightly trapped than before, now that Celestia had two forelegs with which to snuggle her.

Two minutes later, she was still struggling, although Celestia’s squeezing made it impossible to keep going without taking a break every now and then to catch her breath. She felt filled to bursting and her magic had vanished to... somewhere.

She was given hope in the form of Aegis who came speeding through the door and skidded to a halt inches from the bed. “Mister?” she called out, making his ears swivel in her direction. “I’m stuck, can you help me get out?”

Aegis looked over the sleeping form of his sovereign ruler, blushed, and pointedly looked away; and his lack of response only exacerbated Twilight’s dread and feelings of being trapped.

“Please?” she begged, translating the pout on her face into a vocal one.

“Sorry, Twilight,” the guard replied, looking extremely uneasy. “It’s better not to wake up the princess when she’s sleeping this deeply. You’ll just have to wait until she wakes up. It’s not so bad there, right?”

“But I have to go!”

“Go?” It was clear that Aegis didn’t understand what she meant, or perhaps he merely didn’t want to. After a few seconds of awkward silence, however, his eyes widened and he ran around to the side of the bed, checking the cupboards for who knew what before rushing off in the same direction he’d come from.

Seeing that her would be rescuer was of about as much use as he was going to be, Twilight decided that it was time for desperate measures. She had to be free of her imprisonment one way or another, and there was only one option she hadn’t tried yet; mostly because she didn’t trust herself to do it right. Closing her eyes tightly, Twilight tried to recall what she had seen Celestia do in the classroom.

She didn’t know if there were any intricate patterns she was supposed to follow like when she tried to create an illusion of a cube, nor did she know if there was a power requirement. Both of those things had to have played a part in the spell Celestia was using at some point, but all Twilight had seen was a brief flash and Celestia looking like she had turned into sunlight itself before disappearing altogether.

Inevitably, that picture of Celestia vanishing was what Twilight focused on. Sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth while she pictured herself disappearing and reappearing several feet to the side of the bed. Her landing would have preferably been on the ground, but at this point, and with this full a bladder, there was only one location that concerned her.

The first thing Twilight felt upon casting her spell was a sensation of falling, thankfully cushioned by something that, while solid, was soft enough to dampen the force of the impact. The second thing were a thousand tiny stinging sensations all over, which she deftly ignored in favour of the one pressing concern that was about to make a mess of things.

Luckily, the infirmary had its own bathroom and relief wasn’t far off.

When Twilight returned to the infirmary with a bladder that was no longer threatening to rebel against her, she found the place an altogether more crowded one than she had left. Several dozen ponies had formed a semicircle around a very tired looking Celestia who was still missing her regalia. All of them were talking through one another, pushing each other and shouting while Celestia looked about ready to give up and go back to sleep, ponies or no.

“Everypony, please, calm down,” she said, holding up a hoof and motioning for silence. “I understand your concern, but I assure you, nothing is wrong with either myself or the sun. There was a slight mishap, that is all.”

A stallion Twilight had never seen before stepped forward with an air of superiority. His presence made Celestia straighten up, just a little. “A slight mishap would be burning your morning toast, or spilling a glass of milk. I rather think that having the sun rocket into the sky is more than that!”

“Tell me something, Blustering Wind,” Celestia began anew. “Are you upset with my performance? Or rather about my dissatisfaction with yours? In the three thousand years of history since I assumed this position, I’ve had as many mishaps as I have hooves. Can you say the same?” The remark earned her a few chuckles from the crowd, and an embarrassed look from the ex-council member. Celestia continued without so much as batting an eyelid. “I think that, sometimes a mistake isn’t merely allowable, it is impossible to avoid. Hardly worth the fuss you are trying to cause... unless you truly want me to stop raising the sun?”

The stallion shook his head and stepped forward defiantly. “And what if I did want you to give up control over the sun? What then?”

“You would be more than welcome to try caring for it yourself, although I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you.” Celestia stifled a yawn behind her hoof. “The spell used by the unicorns of old was so terribly taxing that even the most accomplished groups only carried the burden for about a year. Back then it was considered a great honor and privilege to be chosen as a Sun Bearer. Few, however, were of the same mind after having carried the burden for six months, and even fewer continued to serve in the capacity after their term ended.”

Blustering Wind smiled with the same sense of smugness that had surrounded him the whole time. “And if I were to do just that? Somehow I cannot imagine you leaving your sun in my, admittedly, capable hooves.”

Celestia looked over the crowd meaningfully. “I would praise you for your dedication. Just know that the unicorns that continued carrying the burden after their due diligence was done died well before their time.” She seemed to perk up, giving an almost giddy flap with her wings before folding them back at her side and continuing with a happy lilt in her voice. “Still, if you can find a group of unicorns willing to be Sun Bearers once more, I would happily teach you the spells and entrust you with the sun.” She sighed theatrically and added: “I am long overdue for a vacation.”

Many ponies in the crowd outright laughed, though Blustering Wind wasn’t one of them. Twilight herself couldn’t help but giggle when the stallion paled to such a degree that he could actually have been mistaken for her mentor.

“In all seriousness, I am sorry for worrying you, my little ponies. I promise I will do my best to ensure that something like this does not happen again. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” she yawned once more “—I could really use a cup of coffee. For today, simply enjoy an extra long afternoon. Everything should be back to normal by sunset.”

Blustering looked ready to protest again, but Aegis and Rook had taken their ruler’s hint and gently ushered him and the rest of the crowd out of the room. Finally, the room once again felt like an infirmary, silent and peaceful, save for the confused songs of passing birds.

Twilight cantered up to Celestia with a small, hopeful smile. “Good morning, Princess.”

Celestia looked at her briefly and smiled before turning back to the doors through which the crowd was still leaving. Within seconds, however, she was looking at Twilight again, though her smile had been replaced by a look of utter confusion. “Twilight... What in the sun’s name happened to you?”

Tilting her head, Twilight pondered the most important part of that question. “The sun has a name?”

Though she was genuinely curious, the main goal of her question was, for once, not information. Rather, she had hoped that Celestia would stop looking at her like she had suddenly sprouted an extra horn, or even smile, stars permitting. Instead, all she got was an unamused look before being lifted up by Celestia’s magic and simply floating there, a few feet in front of her mentor who had clearly decided that something had to be done but hadn’t deigned to tell Twilight where that something would be.

After a little squirming, Twilight was finally turned around in Celestia’s magic and could look her mentor in the eyes. They were beautiful eyes, light magenta in color and deep as the sky was big; or that was how her mom had described eyes at one point. Twilight was much more interested in the fact that there were bags underneath Celestia’s eyes, and they were more than a little bloodshot. In fact, they looked a lot like her own when she stayed up to read. Maybe she couldn’t sleep?

“Princess, why ar—”

Celestia cut her off. “What happened to you, Twilight?”

“Me?” Twilight looked herself over, or at least tried to. Moving while held in somepony’s magic was a lot harder than she’d always thought. “I don’t... know?”

The answer to her own ponderings remained elusive, at least until they reached the end of yet another hallway and Celestia stepped through the big double doors rather than make yet another turn through the castle’s winding hallways like she had done the last seven times.

For Twilight, the room they stepped into was yet another reason to stare wide-eyed at her surroundings. It was big. Not quite as big as the Grand Dining Hall, granted, but it was still plenty big enough to contain the house she had grown up in several times over. Although, rather than being filled with tables like the former, this room was filled with more steam than any sauna.

The entire room had been made in an off-white stone that reflected the soft glow of the lanterns hanging from poles distributed throughout. The first thing that Twilight noticed was that they formed a colorful chain back to the door, a more sombre beige color of lantern at the back going all the way to a joyful green at the front; and surrounding those lanterns she could see baths. Not like the one she'd bathed in at home, but big baths in which even the princess could comfortably lay down, or maybe even more than just one princess.

With the half-formed thought in mind, she looked to see who was in the bath, half expecting this to be the place all alicorns resided when they weren’t busy ruling the country or teaching her how to use her magic, but found to her disappointment that the ponies in the baths were just more of the castle’s inhabitants.

Canterlot Castle Communal Baths

A plaque on the wall told her in no uncertain terms that it was, indeed, a bathroom. It was a big one, but it was a bathroom nonetheless. Celestia didn’t wait in the doorway long, closing the door behind her when she stepped inside and moving off to an elevated area to the right of the door.

It wasn’t much higher than the rest, only a few inches or so, but it was filled with many tiny baths; at least compared to the one in the rest of the room. There was no doubt that Princess Celestia could still comfortably bathe in any one of them. All of her wonderment and interest was pushed to the back of her mind when Celestia held her in front of a mirror, however.

She looked like a monster. Not a ‘with five thousand tentacles that lives under your bed and will eat you if you go to sleep’ monster like her brother had scared her with in the past, but a monster in the form of a pony; A pony monster with a blackened horn, who’d had a pony with a blender for a cutiemark style their mane and more singe marks all over her coat from where she had apparently been set on fire.

At first, Twilight didn’t want to believe that the pony in the mirror was her, but seeing the princess standing behind her forced her to conclude that it had to be.

“Is that… me?” she asked when Celestia finally set her down.

Celestia stepped forwards until they were standing side by side, which only made Twilight more aware of just how dirty she looked when compared to Celestia’s pristine white coat. That, in turn, made her realise that Celestia hadn’t bothered to put on her regalia, which made it clear that her regal aura had nothing to do with what she was wearing. “What happened, Twilight?”

“Well...” Twilight sat down on her rump. “When I woke up you were sleeping on the bed... I like your wings, they’re very soft and comfy.” She got an indulgent smile from Celestia though it came paired with a motion to continue her tale. “Then I realised I had to pee but you grabbed me and I was stuck.” The mirror made it easy to study Celestia’s expression which had turned from a smile into a grimace followed by a sentence Twilight didn’t quite hear because of her own story “—And then, I tried to use my magic but it only lifted you on the bed. Then Mister Aegis came to the infirmary, but he said he couldn’t help me.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. He just said he couldn’t.”

Once again Celestia motioned for her to go on. “And then?”

“And then I teleported!” Twilight finished her story with the biggest smile she could find. Teleportation, she had been told repeatedly, was a very difficult spell, and having pulled it off made her very proud of herself. At least, until she saw Celestia’s expression.

For the first time—no, second. For the second time since she had come to the castle, Celestia looked angry. There was no flaming mane or tail this time, but even without them the drawing together of the eyebrows, the thin line her lips made and the slightest gnashing of teeth made it clear how the princess was feeling. “Twilight,” she said a length. “You are not to teleport again. Is that clear?”

“Why?” was all Twilight could think to ask. Even without the physical changes, the princess’ anger was still intimidating, and yet despite that, she couldn’t help but wonder what could have upset Celestia so.

“Because I am telling you not to!”

Twilight scrambled backwards until her rump touched the mirror, curling in on herself and nodding rapidly, afraid of what the normally composed princess might do. What Celestia did do was draw back almost as soon as she had lashed out, sighing and putting a hoof to her face.

“I’m sorry, Twilight. But this is very important.” She pointed at the mirror. “Do you see that?”

Timidly, Twilight looked over her shoulder, coming face to face with monster-Twilight once more. “Y-yes?” she said, hoping it was the right response.

Celestia sat down and beckoned her over, something Twilight only did after a minute of struggling with her own perceptions of the princess. “That—” Celestia said, pointing at the mirror again when Twilight sat down next to her “—is but one of the things that can happen if you don’t use a teleportation spell correctly. And this is just your mane and coat. Making mistakes with a powerful spell like that can be dangerous. Do you understand?”

“I think so...” Twilight looked up at Celestia “So if I made a different mistake my tail could have turned into a cauliflower?”

Silence reigned in the baths, and from the corner of her eyes, Twilight saw that everypony in their direct vicinity was looking at them. Before she could bring it up with the princess, however, Celestia answered.

“Much worse than that, Twilight. You could have been t—” She shook her head softly. “It is unimportant what else could have happened, just know that it is too dangerous to cast such spells so without proper training, understood?”

“Okay,” Twilight said with a nod and a small smile, glad that the princess she was familiar with had returned. “Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Can I go take a bath now?”

Finally, Celestia smiled as well. “I don’t know... these are awfully big baths. Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

Twilight puffed out her cheeks, looking up at the princess with a huff. “I’m a big pony, you know? I bathed alone since I was seven years old!”

“Ah...” Celestia hummed thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “and how old are you now?”

“Eight years and nine months!”

All the tension drained from the room when Celestia laughed, and to Twilight’s surprise, she wasn’t the only one. Several of the ponies that had surrounded them laughed as well, which only made her feel more self-conscious. “I’m almost nine!”

The laughing didn’t last long and Celestia looked a little relaxed for the first time since she had woken up. “Yes you are, Twilight.” She brought a hoof to her chin and surveyed the baths surrounding them before saying, “Well, why don’t you pick a bath then?”

And that’s exactly what Twilight did. She let her eyes rove over the unoccupied baths and picked one of the slightly larger ones. “That one!” she said, before sprinting towards it and hurling herself into the water. By the time she surfaced, Celestia had walked toward the bath as well and sat down at the water’s edge, much to Twilight’s disappointment. “Aren’t you going to take a bath?” she asked.

“I thought you were a big pony that could bathe by herself?” Celestia asked, her smile returning.

Twilight merely pouted, which had the desired effect as Celestia let out a soft chuckle before shaking her head and stepping into the bath. “Alright then, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Half an hour later, Twilight was drifting around the tub, trying to find the ceiling of the room with little success. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that magically being scrubbed clean was every bit as unpleasant as the non-magical kind. She felt raw and sore everywhere and was convinced that Celestia had been using it as a punishment for her recklessness.

She bumped into something soft with her horn and splashed about in an attempt to right herself, coming face to belly with Celestia when she finally succeeded. During the scrubbing session, and the moments leading up to it, the princess had been wearing a playful smile, one that now shone due to it absence. Instead she looked thoughtful, her eyes closed, her lips pressed together in a distinctively neutral line, and her mane obscuring it all while it independently struggled to escape its watery captor.

“Princess? What are you doing?” Twilight asked, wondering if the princess had fallen asleep. The alicorn had certainly looked tired enough.

“Waiting for you to ask me for your next lesson, Twilight,” Celestia replied softly, keeping still besides the almost imperceptible expanding of her chest that came with every breath.

Twilight immediately scrambled for the edge of the bath, climbing out and getting rid of the water that clung to her coat off with a vigorous shaking session. “I’m ready, Princess! Can we start right now?”

Calmly, Celestia opened her eyes and looked at Twilight. “Good, get back into the bath and we’ll begin.” She moved ever so slightly before settling down and becoming like a statue again, leaving Twilight confused and uncertain.

“Right here?” Twilight asked, looking at her surroundings and all the ponies in it, many of whom weren’t the same ponies that were present when they had walked in. Everypony was going about their own business though each spent a minute or two staring at the princess when they first entered through the doors. There wasn’t a cacophony of sound in the room, but neither was it anywhere near as quiet as the observatory had been.

“Right here,” came Celestia’s affirmation, though the princess still didn’t move an inch.

But this environment isn’t conducive to learning! one part of Twilight’s mind screamed, although it was countered by the much more sensible part. Perhaps there is a reason Princess Celestia wants to have the lesson be in a place like this; and it’s not like we’d ever get a chance like this in any ordinary school.

Slowly, Twilight stepped back into the bath, trying to find one of the submerged platforms next to the princess, which allowed younger ponies like herself to sit down like the adult ponies without fear of drowning. She decided to emulate her mentor, sneaking quick glances through half-closed eyes while trying to imitate Celestia’s posture and calm.

Unfortunately, Twilight was young, and anything but.

After several minutes of trying—and failing—to be as still as her mentor, she finally made her frustration known. “Princess?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“What are you going to teach me? I mean... what is the lesson about?”

Celestia sighed before finally opening her eyes and smiling down at Twilight. “Today I thought a lesson in focus might be in order. Though you might be a little young for such a lesson...”

“I can do it!”

“Very well then...” Celestia resumed her statue imitation, with the exception of her lips which were still guiding Twilight through... whatever she was doing. “Focus on the water. Try to remain still. The water will follow your lead.”

“Um... but what does that have to do with magic?” Twilight asked, trying once more to mimic what she’d seen.

Even though she couldn’t see the princess without moving, she could most definitely hear the smirk in Celestia’s voice. “Magic requires a clear head. One can make any number of mistakes if their mind isn’t focused on the task at hoof. Do you understand?”

“Yeah... I think so.” It seemed simple enough. All she had to do was remain quiet and sit still, didn’t she? Even that, however, turned out to be harder than expected. Sitting still with her eyes closed made her that much more aware of what was going on around her; Ponies that were talking to one another, foals laughing and splashing each other with bathwater, and even a stallion whom had apparently taken to singing while he showered.

Worse than that, sitting still in a bathtub with her eyes closed gave her nothing to focus on, meaning all the small little itches and annoyances were given free reign to tug at her mind. More than once, she had to break her stillness in order to get rid of a particularly persistent itch behind her ears, and that was without even mentioning the dull ache she felt after having the water splash against her sides for several minutes.

Only when she reached up to scratch an itch for the seventeenth time did Celestia speak again. “Is there a problem, Twilight?”

“Everything’s itchy and ponies keep distracting me,” Twilight admitted, scratching herself behind an ear again before looking up at the princess. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Yes.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow for Twilight. She had been doing her utmost and apparently it was nowhere near good enough. “What am I doing wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?” She pouted at the statue-that-was-a-princess.

The silence lasted just long enough to make Twilight think that the princess had gone back to her meditation before she spoke. “Because some things, like meditation, are different for everypony. If I tried to force you to do things a certain way you might end up with something that didn’t suit you, or even work at all.” Celestia sighed and opened one eye to look at Twilight sideways. “Some magic is like that. What works for you might not work for another pony. Although I can directly teach you a lot of basic spells like levitation, illusions and even a few up to the level of teleportation, we will have to figure out some things together.”

Twilight was convinced Celestia had read her mind when the princess shook her head, preempting the question that had been leapfrogging to the back of her throat before dying a silent death.

“No, it isn’t as hard as it looks, and even though they seem simpler, the normal spells will still take years. Don’t worry yourself with them yet. For now, try counting your breath for as long as you can while focusing on something that interests you. If you get distracted, just go back to what interests you and start over.”

Though she didn’t know how much good it would do, at the very least, Twilight was happy for the explanation. She nodded at the princess and closed her eyes again, trying to follow her mentor’s instructions.

Thinking about something interesting... That’s easy, books. Or maybe Daring Do? Teleportation? Nah, books.

She took a deep breath and held it, silently counting in her head while at the same time picturing the castle library she really wanted to get back in to. To her surprise, it worked; somewhat anyway. She got as far as thirty before she exhaled and panted for a minute, before trying again. The noise of the ponies around her was drowned out by the sounds of the sea in her ears, and the excitement of thinking about all the books she would be able to read helped counter the water’s insistent poking.

Not that she didn’t still get distracted every now and again, but it was a big step up from her earlier attempts; and more importantly, for the first time since she had arrived at the castle, she felt like she was doing something right. The only problem she kept running into was the fact that she could only ever hold her breath for so long. Trying to lengthen that time made her body forcibly expel the air she so carefully held in after which it took her another minute before she caught her breath and could try again.

Princess Celestia made it look so easy. Twilight watched her mentor every time she had to stop for a breath, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't find the secret. Celestia was like the guards that were posted all over the castle, only they didn't have their eyes closed; and if it hadn't been for the flowing hair, she would have been convinced that the princess could turn into a statue.

It did, however, give her ample opportunity to study, and after more than a dozen minutes of long observations, she began to notice subtle movements. Once in a blue moon, the princess’ ears would flick, or one of her wings would twitch, indicating that even she wasn’t immune to distractions. It made Twilight feel better about her own progress, though she felt like she could learn more.

It was during one of those extended study breaks that Celestia moved. A sly smile had slowly spread across her face, but by the time Twilight noticed it was already too late. In one fell swoop Celestia brought one of her wing up from beneath the water's surface, showering the filly with water and instantly soaking her to the bone. Twilight's shock lasted for as long as it took for her mentor to giggle while her brain processed what had just happened. She puffed up her cheeks and pouted at her mentor while pushing her mane out of her face, which lead to another giggle from Celestia. Before the princess had a chance to recover from her mirth, however, Twilight launched her own watery attack and the fight was on.

Forgotten was the supposed lesson while they did watery battle, splashing water at one another and giggling uncontrollably. Celestia had size on her side, and a pair of wings which she successfully used as both weapons and shields against Twilight's onslaught. What she hadn't counted on was that the lesson had left Twilight with a lot of excess energy, every single bit of which was now being turned against her as Twilight began to get more creative with her attacks.

She had realised that simply splashing the princess with her hooves wasn't going to get her anywhere, as Celestia could deflect and send more water at her with one beat of her majestic wings than several of her hoof attacks. Instead she focused on her magic. Water was too malleable for her to successfully pick with levitation so she simply pushed against it, creating higher and higher waves which she tried to direct towards her adversary; and it would have worked too, if she hadn't forgotten to take into account that her indented target was a fair bit taller than she was.

Throughout the fight, Celestia had been all but motionless; using only her wings to participate. Now, the princess got up and watched the waves roll harmlessly against her legs before sticking out her tongue at Twilight and lighting up her horn. Twilight's resistance came to a halt when she saw a perfect sphere of water float up towards Celestia, awed by the magical control the princess must have had to accomplish such a feat. Her astonishment persisted while the sphere floated from the princess to herself, and only ended when Celestia cut her magic and dumped the entire thing onto Twilight's head.

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

Twilight pushed her soaking mane out of her face again and watched a mare approach Celestia with no small amount of reverence. The mare leaned forwards and whispered something into Celestia’s ear which made the princess’ smile fade. In an instant, the fun-loving princess Twilight had been doing battle with vanished, replaced by a... well... by a princess. Her smile was still friendly, and possibly more comforting than it had been before, but it no longer felt... real. Princess Celestia nodded and said, “I will be right there. Just make sure he doesn’t do anything foolish.” She stepped out of the bath, lighting up her horn and creating a soft golden shimmer that moved from her ears down to her fetlocks. Where it passed it removed any trace of moisture from her coat until, by the end, Twilight wouldn't have been able to tell that she had taken a bath at all. Turning to Twilight, Celestia smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Twilight, but I am going to have to cut our lesson short."

"Did something bad happen?" Twilight asked while she too got out of the bath. Her own method for drying herself off involved a lot more shaking and towels, but before she had the chance, the shimmer started on her fetlocks as well. It was a strange tingly feeling that ran across her entire coat and made her giggle softly. When the spell finished, she smiled at her mentor.

Celestia didn't smile back. Twilight could have sworn that the princess looked tired, but after she blinked the exhaustion had vanished, leaving just the princess she knew behind. Celestia waved one of her guards forward with a wing and said, “Nothing you need to worry about, Twilight. Rook will show you to the dining hall so you can eat, and after that, I would like you to try working on your focus for a little longer.”

Part of Twilight wanted to lay claim to the princess’ time. I’m her student; shouldn’t I be more important? At the same time, however, she understood that it would always be like that. Ruling a kingdom was a hard enough job without her complicating things, though she couldn’t help but pout. “But we just started the lesson!”

Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Did we?” She indicated the room behind Twilight with her chin, making the filly look over her shoulder. The baths were almost completely empty. Everypony that had been there when they entered was gone and though there were one or two ponies left (both of them staring at the princess like they had just seen the moon melt) Twilight couldn’t remember seeing them before.

“Where did everypony go?” she asked turning back to her mentor.

“We have been at it for several hours already, Twilight. It’s nearly time for lunch.” The messenger cleared her throat and for a moment Twilight thought she saw a flash of annoyance pass across Celestia’s face before the princess smiled and turned around. “Now, I really have to get going. Go with Rook and we’ll see about another lesson in the evening.”

Even though the princess wouldn’t be able to see it, Twilight nodded happily. “Okay, Princess.” She studied the two guards next to the door for a moment, wondering which one she was supposed to follow; all guards looked alike to her. Maybe they’re all from one big family? hmmm... no... If they were all from the same family, Shining Armor wouldn’t have been allowed to join, would he? Or was he training to be something other than a guard?

Her train of thought led to a scary idea, which made her have her own little panic attack. If he does become a guard, would that mean that he won’t be my brother anymore? Twilight quietly fretted for a moment before shaking her head and resolutely deciding that she wasn’t going to let that happen.

The question which had spawned the treacherous thoughts was answered when the guard on the left turned and followed the princess out the door, which meant that the right one had to be Rook! She bounded up to the guard and looked up at him with the biggest, most soulful expression she had in her arsenal. Though she didn’t manage to get an obvious response from the normally stonefaced stallion, the slight upturn in the corners of his mouth before he turned around and stepped out of the room wasn’t lost on her.

She deliberated for a moment, putting one of her hooves to her chin and wondering why none of the guards ever smiled. Maybe they have really scary smiles? A brief reference to the hint of a smile she had just seen quickly dispelled that notion. Rook wouldn’t look so unapproachable and uninterested all the time if he just smiled a little more; she was sure of it. So maybe the princess didn’t like it when they smiled? That didn’t sound likely either, but she resolved to ask her mentor when she got the chance. First, however, she needed some food.

Low grumblings in her stomach reminded her that Rook was there for a reason, and it wasn’t until she looked around the room that Twilight realised he was no longer in the room. She scrambled to catch up to him, coming close to losing her balance on three separate occasions while making for the door. “Mister Rook?!” Half running, half stumbling through the doors she found him standing near the window, his eyes on her before she had good and well come to a standstill. He didn’t do much more than arch an eyebrow, which made Twilight feel even more self-conscious. She couldn’t even tell if he was annoyed, or happy, or just didn’t care; in that respect he reminded her a lot of the princess, although she had at least seen the princess laugh.

The comparison between Rook and a wall or perhaps a living statue seemed almost too easy, and yet she was sure that she hadn’t imagined the ghost of a smile she’d seen before. Rook, however, had apparently intuited her silence to mean that she had no further questions and set off through the halls, leaving Twilight to scramble after him again.

Their walk towards the dining hall was mostly spent in silence. Although Twilight had tried to make conversation, or rather, ask her usual barrage of questions, her guide didn’t seem interested in answering them like Celestia did. Her tried and true “How old are you?” question had been grunted at, and asking why guards never smiled had been ignored entirely. Eventually, she had given up and merely observed her surroundings until they reached their destination.

The Dining Hall was as busy as ever. Perhaps even more so. A small wooden stage had been built at the center of the room and was currently being used by an amateur band. Twilight didn’t think she had ever heard the kind of music they were playing, but the only somewhat disharmonious tones added to the friendly atmosphere, and she felt a lot more at ease now that she wasn’t the center of attention.

Twilight hesitated when Rook resolutely walked back to the table reserved for the princess. Without Celestia there, using the table reserved for her felt... wrong. Not only that, but being the only one at the table would most certainly put her back into the spotlight. Before she could give voice to her insecurities, however, Rook had already pulled back a chair for her. Swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, Twilight took a seat, glancing every which way while hoping that ponies wouldn’t notice her.

Some ponies obviously did, and she wasn’t sure what to make of the way they were looking at her. They looked like rich ponies, like the mare Celestia had gotten angry with the previous day, but Twilight didn’t understand why they would be upset with her for it. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? She didn’t know if she wanted the answer to that question, but even if she had it, she wouldn’t have been able to deliberate on it. Her attention was forcefully drawn from the small group of glaring ponies by a deep voice that was nevertheless quickly starting to become familiar to her.

“Good afternoon, Little Miss!”

Twilight turned around to see Mead making his way towards her, carrying a plate filled with watercress sandwiches. At first Twilight thought the sandwiches were meant for her, but the stallion passed her table and put the plate down on the table of the glaring ponies, diverting their attention from Twilight temporarily. It could well have been coincidence if he hadn’t then walked over to her and winked.

“How’re you today, Little Miss?”

Twilight’s stomach answered in her stead, grumbling softly in tune with the onset of hunger, making her blush and smile apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mister. I didn’t get a chance to eat in the morning like I promised I would.”

Her apology was waved away, though Mead did give her a stern look. “First of all, missy, I ain’t a ‘Mister’ so you can just call me Honey Mead.” He briefly looked around the room as if surveying his domain before returning his gaze to her. “As for your promise, I’ll consider it held if you eat an extra helping of lunch. Deal?”

The smile he paired his final sentence with infected Twilight with one as well. She nodded vigorously and said, “Okay, Honey.”

Honey Mead blinked, blinked again, and then threw his head back and laughed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to himself for a brief moment. “Little Miss, you can call me ‘Mead’ or ‘Mister Head Chef’ or even just ‘Chef’ if you want, but don’t call me ‘Honey’. I get enough of that back home.”

Any confusion Twilight felt didn’t hold out long against the infectious happiness that surrounded Mead and she resolved to ask the princess about Meads’ cryptic reply later. “Okay, Mister Mead. Could I have another one of those Bamboo Honey Fruit Towers?”

“Oi...” Mead sighed and shook his head, but his persistent smile let Twilight know that she didn’t do anything seriously wrong. “Liked that, did you? Well, how about this; I’ll make you one of those and a little extra if you promise to eat it all. Sound fair?”

Twilight wasn’t sure she could eat as much as Mead was suggesting she did, but she was hungry, and his offer sounded too good to refuse. “Uh-huh,” she told him with a small nod and a bright smile.

“Great! Wait right here,” Mead said, after which he disappeared back into the kitchens.

With food on the way, Twilight turned her attention to the room. The glare group had finished their appetizers and were directing their nasty looks in her direction once more. She swiftly decided to focus on something or somepony else that didn’t hate her for an unspecified reason. Her guide and chaperone was the first thing that came to mind, only... she didn’t see him anywhere.

She eventually found him near the entrance with a few of the other guards on duty, differentiated only by the fact that his armor had an imprint of the princess’ cutie mark emblazoned on his chest. He looked... like he always did, though Twilight couldn’t help but wonder if he and the other guards weren’t hungry.

“Here you go, Little Miss. One Bamboo Honey Fruit Tower. The best I’ve made yet!”

Twilight couldn’t help but giggle at the stallion. “The princess was right; you do say that every time.”

“And what did I tell her?”

“That it’s always true!” Twilight replied with a giggle. “Mead?” she asked the stallion after she had run out of giggles. “What did you change?”

“A little extra honey, just for you,” he said with a wink. “Make sure you eat all of it, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay!” Twilight eagerly started on her food while the cook retreated to the kitchen to, she assumed, make more food for more ponies. The meal in front of her quickly demanded most of her attention when she tasted one of the pieces of kiwi that had fallen off, however. It was yummy. Not that she would have been able to tell the difference between this one and the one she’d had in the infirmary, but it was good enough to keep her mind and taste buds occupied until Mead returned from the kitchens, carrying a boatload of different kinds of dishes. He somehow managed to keep the pile of food balanced on his back, which was mighty impressive on its own, doubly so because he didn’t possess any magic which could have helped him keep it steady.

Twilight’s eyes became big as the plates the food was being served on when she saw him, a half-chewed piece of strawberry grasping at its last chance at freedom before being consumed and let itself fall out of her open mouth before rolling under the table, never to be seen again.

Mead worked swiftly and steadily, placing the various meals on the table with a precision that belied years of experience. Over seventeen different dishes of various size and mouthwatering aromas made their way onto the table, and by the time he was done, it looked more like a royal banquet than a simple lunchtime meal.

The sheer amount of food on the table was a little intimidating, and Twilight couldn’t help but be amazed. Lucky for her, the strawberry had already gone, otherwise she might have choked on it. “W-who... who is all that for, Miste—Mead?” she asked timidly, eyeing the food with trepidation. She was all but certain her stomach would explode before she even ate a fraction of the delicacies he had put on the table, which made her promise seem like a much more terrible idea.

Looking the table over, Mead nodded to himself before turning to Twilight and laughing uproariously when he noticed her expression. “Don’t you worry, Little Miss. This here’s just for variety; if you wanna have a taste, you can, but I don’t expect you to eat all of it.”

As the anxiety passed, Twilight’s look of trepidation was replaced by one of disbelief. “All of this is for me?” she asked, looking from stuffed potatoes to freshly cut onion rings floating in creme brulé and back again.

“Of course not, ya silly filly. It’s for me ’swell, and anypony that wants to try something. You don’t get a great figure like mine without eating yer veggies,” Mead said, contently slapping his belly with a hoof before digging in and leaving Twilight with more questions than answers.

She tried to leave them for what they were and enjoy her meal. Not a difficult task by any means, if it hadn’t been for her mind, which combined several of her recent observations to conduct a question she couldn’t have ignored if she wanted to. “M-Mead?” she asked after emptying her mouth of another batch of diced pineapple pieces. “When do the guards eat?”

The response was half a shrug and a sentence that was a little mangled by the food currently occupying the questionee’s mouth. “Woulndt kwnow.” Mead swallowed and continued: “They occasionally eat here after their shift ends, and I assume they have their own kitchens in the barracks. Never seen em eat on the job though...” He wiped his mouth with a napkin before defeating the purpose by stuffing his face with more food.

“But it’s lunch time now, so why aren’t they eating as well?” Twilight asked, gesturing towards Rook and the other statue-wannabes with a hoof.

Mead’s feast slowly ground to a halt and he looked over the collection of guards with a quirked eyebrow. “Y’know,” he said after swallowing his latest bite, “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“So maybe some of the guards don’t eat lunch at all? Isn't that bad for them?” Though collapsing from malnutrition perhaps hadn’t had the intended effect on Twilight, it had made her keenly aware of how much—or little—other ponies were eating.

At that moment in time, there wasn’t a pony alive who could have understood her line of thinking any better than Honey Mead. Unlike Twilight, who was merely starting on deliberations, he jumped ahead and went for action. “’Scuse me, Little Miss,” he said, “but do you think you could help me out?”

Twilight looked from the guards to her table companion and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Try’n get those guards to come over to this table while I recruit some help, would you?”

“O-okay.” Twilight wasn’t sure if she could get the guards to follow her anywhere, but she was willing to try. And it’s not like they’d run away if I tried... right? Mead disappeared back into the kitchens and Twilight slipped from her chair, taking a few steps in the direction of the guards before having an idea and taking her own half-finished meal with her in her magic. A small part of her mind was jumping for joy that she didn’t cause another disaster, but the rest focused on the task at hoof.

She walked up to the guards, briefly wondering if she’d even get a response. They were better at Celestia’s focusing lessons than she was, that was for sure. “Mister Rook?” she asked, levitating the plate to her side and watching him closely for any reaction.

If anything, Rook appeared confused. His eyes flicked over the pile of assorted fruits before darting down to meet Twilight’s own. “Yes?”

Twilight cheered silently at having gotten a response this easily, but tried to keep it from showing on her face. Mead had given her a job and she was going to do it right. “Mister Mead told me I should share so... uhm... would you like some fruit?” She paired her question with the most potent set of puppy dog eyes she had available, hoping to get the stoic stallion to capitulate

And capitulate Rook did, or so it seemed. His features softened into an expression that was almost kind, and this time, Twilight was certain she saw what passed for a smile on his face. His answer wasn’t the one she’d been hoping for, however. “I’m sorry, Twilight. It is against regulations. We guards have to be ready at a moment’s notice and need to be able to oversee everything.”

“Then...” Twilight looked back to the table, wondering if the princess would mind; she certainly hoped Celestia wouldn’t. “Then why not eat at the princess’ table?” When she saw his expression, she hastily continued, “The princess said that you had to help me, right?”

“The princess ordered me to escort you to the dining hall and watch over you while you ate,” he said, straightening his posture and looking straight ahead at nothing.

Twilight frowned; even her most powerful weapon against adults was proving to be worthless against Rook and she didn’t know what else to do. Dejected, she walked back to the table trying to figure out how to tell Mead that she’d failed, something she got decidedly less time for than she would have liked.

It had only been a few minutes at best, yet Mead already marched out of the kitchens followed by half a dozen cooks. The cooks busied themselves with putting more empty tables together while Mead beckoned for Twilight to come with him, which she hesitantly did after seeing his stern expression.

“I’m sorry, Mister Mead. They wouldn’t listen to me,” she said, clamping her ears to her skull and looking at the ground.

Mead chuckled and nudged her hard enough to send her stumbling to the side. “Don’t worry about it, Little Miss, we’ll work it out.” He marched right up to the collection of guards and cleared his throat to get their attention. “’Scuse me boys, but this little filly here tells me she politely requested you all eat something. That true?”

As the highest ranking guard of the bunch, Rook took the role of spokesman and nodded while he took a step forward. “Yes, she did. But you know as well as I do that we can’t leave our posts, no matter how nicely somepony asks.”

“Well,” Mead replied slowly, “I’m not about to ask.”

Twilight felt confused as she watched Rook nod. How was that going to help get the guards to the tables?

Mead seemed nonplussed, continuing with his sentence before the other stallion had even finished nodding. “I’m ordering you to sit at that there table, and eat your fill before I make you.”

Rook’s expression hardened and he drew himself up to his full height, easily a head bigger than the more compact earth pony cook. “You don’t have the authority to order us around.”

A faint smile played around Mead’s lips. “Boy, in this room, I have the authority to do anything. The princess herself will leave if I ask her to.”

Knowing Celestia better than most, Rook looked uncomfortable, likely because he knew that Mead was probably right. The other guards had no such problems, however, and some of them laughed at how ridiculous it all sounded. “Yeah, right,” one of them called out. “Do you really expect us to believe that?”

Their laughter got another voice when Mead began to laugh right along with them. “You lads wanna go find out? I’m sure the princess will make time.”

Any response the guards could have come up with to counter that audacious statement was preempted by Rook holding up a hoof. “That won’t be necessary, Mead, but can I ask why this is so important all of a sudden?”

Mead indicated Twilight with his head. “This bright young filly here was wonderin’ why none of you tough guys were eating anything during lunch, and she brought it to my attention.” He tapped himself on the chest and pointed at the tables that were being put together. “Now, I’m responsible for feeding ponies around here, so all of you can do your job from over there while enjoying a proper meal, or I’m banning the lot of you from this place.”

“Well, if you put it that way...” Rook didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded towards his fellow guards and together they made their way over to the tables where the cooks has just started laying out more food.

Twilight and Mead watched the procession of guards take their seats at the tables, and couldn’t help but laugh when they saw the wonderment on the faces of the guards as they tried the various meals. Eventually, once all the guards had taken their seat, they returned to their own places, and enjoyed their meal with knowledge of having done something right.

“Mead?” Twilight asked after finally finishing her fruity construction. “Would the princess really listen to you if you told her to leave?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Mead replied in between bites of a truly humongous potato. “Things’re more interesting with her around, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmm hmmm,” Twilight affirmed as she scanned the table. The amount of food was still nowhere close to being finished, and she carefully pulled another plate filled with miniature tomatoes towards herself, finding that just a few pieces of fruit weren’t enough to slake her appetite. “Do you think I’m interesting?”

Having just finished his plate, Mead piled it onto the porcelain mountain he was building next to his chair, but rather than pull another one towards himself he turned his entire bulk towards Twilight instead. “What makes you ask that?”

Twilight frowned while she chewed on a tomato. “I’m supposed to be the princess’ student, but it feels like she’s always busy.”

“Well, she is the princess and if running a kitchen is anything to go by, she’ll be plenty busy,” Mead responded, looking a little troubled himself. “But maybe you should talk to her about it. I wasn’t kidding when I told those boys that we could go see the princess; she’ll make time if it’s important.”

Twilight nodded slowly, trying her best to smile even though Meads answer only made her feel worse. She knew he was trying to be comforting, but it only made her feel the princess’ absence more keenly. Maybe I’m just not important enough? The thought frightened her. She needed the princess to teach her... everything, but the princess... Celestia didn’t need her.

She let out a sigh and went back to her tomatoes, comforting herself with Celestia’s promise of a lesson later in the day. Maybe she was just making mountains out of molehills again, but she didn’t dare ask Mead if that was the case, for fear of being right.

Heavy Burdens

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Celestia's mood soured with every step she took away from the baths and the ‘fight’ she had been having with Twilight. It seemed as though the world was determined to balance out every little thing she enjoyed with something disproportionately infuriating. The Daring Do book, for example, had offered her some measure of enjoyment; enough to keep her reading well into the night, in fact. But as ever, any lingering joy had been negated by her early morning grilling at the hooves of ponies who normally trusted her implicitly. Likewise, just when she had made the decision to forgo being a princess for a few precious minutes, the world spawned more problems to make up for it. In the back of her mind, she knew some were delayed reactions to her decisions, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

"How long has he been going at it, Seabreeze?" she asked the pegasus trailing behind her.

When she had a clear mission, the creamy white mare was very focused and driven, making her one of the best messengers living in the castle. Unfortunately, she compensated for her impeccable work ethic by being completely scatterbrained the moment her task was finished, and would probably lose her own tail if it wasn't stuck to her behind. It took the mare several moments before she even realised something was being asked of her, and several more before she finally responded, sticking out her tongue in what was apparently a way to kickstart her brain. “Almost fifteen minutes now, Your Highness. I came to find you as soon as it started.”

“Is it the same problem as last time?”

“Last time? Oh...” Seabreeze shook her head. “Not as far as I know, your highness. He was restless even after having been fed.”

It was not an answer Celestia was happy to hear. Even the smallest of creatures seems determined to make a claim on my time, she thought dourly. "Has he hurt anypony?"

"He hadn't when I left, Your Highness, though if I may be so bold?"

"You may."

"Isn’t it... weird to take care of a baby dragon? He’s all scaley and fiery. Wouldn’t it be better to fly him to the nearest cave and let him grow up there?”

Celestia sighed and shook her head slowly. “Seabreeze, a young dragon will no more survive being left on his own in the wild than a pony would. Babies, of any species, are delicate and should be cared for.”

Seabreeze scratched her head with a hoof, limping along on the other three. “Then why don’t we send out a flight of pegasi to find a dragon that can take care of him? Can’t be that hard; I once saw a dozen dragons when I was younger.”

“Because dragons aren’t like ponies, Seabreeze,” Celestia replied thoughtfully. “When a dragon mother dies, any unhatched children are doomed to die with her. The only thing another dragon would do to him is remove him as competition.”

In her mind’s eye, she could still see the orchid-colored dragon, begging for Celestia to take care of her children with her dying breath. It was over four hundred years past, yet she could still feel the grief of the dragon as if it was her own.

“Princess?”

Celestia blinked and looked at Aegis and Seabreeze, both of whom had come to a halt several feet away and were looking back at her worriedly. “Forgive me. Old memories,” she said, affecting a smile and walking onward. “Thank you for informing me so swiftly, Seabreeze, but you need not accompany me all the way to the nursery. Go about your rounds and I will see you when the next problem arises."

“Yes, Your Highness.” The mare cantered ahead but came to a complete stop at the next junction. "Does that mean you expect more troubles, Your Highness?" she called back, looking over her shoulder.

Celestia sighed heavily. ignorance truly is bliss. "No, Seabreeze, but it never hurts to be prepared."

"Oh... Okay!" Seabreeze smiled briefly before looking down the three pathways she could choose from. As Celestia stepped closer she could hear the mare mutter to herself, "Now where was I supposed to go next?"

A groan was stifled before it could even fully form and Celestia gesticulated at the mare with her head to Aegis. The guard was thankfully familiar enough with Seabreeze that he understood the silent command and saluted. "I'll make sure she gets there post haste," he said, earning him a thankful nod, though he couldn't but add, "Will you be alright, Princess?"

"I will be fine, Aegis,” Celestia replied, stopping just short of rolling her eyes. I’m positive I can handle a stroll through the castle without tripping and killing myself... “Meet me at the nursery once you're done."

"Yes, princess."

The two of them disappeared down one of the many corridors, and Celestia continued on towards the nursery near the castle's living quarters. She wondered, not for the first time, why her presence had been requested. The couple she had left in charge of caring for the young dragon were some of the most patient and... well, caring ponies she knew, not to mention them having decades of experience. Imagining either them having problems taking care of an infant, dragon though he may be, was difficult. She let her thoughts drift back to the young hatchling’s mother and the mistakes she had made that day.

It wasn’t until she saw the sun-emblazoned doors leading to her own room that she realised she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere along the line. "Damn it all." She looked around to see if anypony had heard been present to witness her lose her temper but found only empty hallways, silent statues, and a curious bird that went back to its song after another look.

Nine Hundred and ninety years of stoicism and you lose your temper twice in as many days? When was the last time you took a break? she asked herself. The answer would not come to her, and with a sigh she turned around, going back the way she had come.

The long, winding corridors of the castle had served a purpose once upon a time. They had proven to be an effective defense against invaders eons ago—especially minotaurs, who had trouble with the mazelike interior even to this day. Nowadays, however, the downside was making itself felt more and more. Getting from one end of the castle to the other was more difficult than it needed to be and restructuring certain parts would nearly double the efficiency of the ponies traveling through them daily. Celestia vaguely remembered a report on how much such a thing would cost, buried underneath one of the several mountains of paper that occupied the desk in her room, but looking for it would mean getting stuck in the hell that was bureaucracy again.

Later. I have somewhere to be.

Fortunately, the nursery was close, though it still took her a few precious minutes. She had to cross the nursery proper to get to the room the young dragon had been sequestered in. The nursery itself was a mostly silent room where the only sounds were either laughing or crying, despite the dozens of foals being cared for. The sheer volume of the crying when she opened the door let everypony know that the same could not be said for every infant. That, of course, led to a wave of crying foals who had been awoken from their afternoon nap by the noise.

Celestia quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind her, clamping her ears to her skull in an attempt to keep her hearing intact. The room she had stepped into had rather luxurious furnishings; two soft beds, closets built into the walls which could hold all manner of items, a body length mirror, a crib, and a foldable platform that doubled as both table and diaper changing station; It even had an adjoining bathroom complete with bath and amenities. All of it had been installed after a pregnant noble-mare had been unhappy with the public arrangements some two hundred years past, which Celestia had allowed despite thinking it a mistake back in the day. Now, after being saddled with a dragonling she couldn’t possibly keep near the other infants, it had come in as a welcome solution.

Currently the room wasn't doing too well; not only was there a baby dragon screaming his lungs out, but the crib he was supposed to have been in was on fire. A soft pink pegasus by the name of First Steps was trying her very best to put out the flames by buffeting them with gusts of air, apparently unaware that all she was doing was stoking the flames higher. Her husband, a deep blue earth pony, seemed to have had the somewhat brighter idea of trying to get water onto the flames, though his methods (a diaper in lieu of an actual bucket) were somewhat suspect. Nevertheless, their combined efforts bore fruit and the fire was beginning to waver.

Which still left the auditory assault. Celestia lit up her horn and picked up the dragonling before he set fire to the bed he had been put on as well, and gently rocked him back and forth which made him quiet down surprisingly quickly. She’d never had much experience with infants beyond occasionally being asked to kiss one, but she couldn’t help but smile when he grabbed his tail and put it into his mouth and began suckling on it, the tail serving as an effective pacifier.

With her ears no longer under attack, Celestia found it much more agreeable to wait until the pair was done with their firefighting and busied herself with the dragonling. She wondered if all infants were as well behaved as he was; sure, he had been crying, but that wasn’t something she would fault him for.

“I told you that flapping your darned wings wouldn’t work!”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time! Better than carrying water in a diaper at least!”

Celestia turned her attention to the caretakers when the two of them started bickering. Gentle Nudge was the more vocal of the two even though he looked like a drowning cat with all the water he had gotten on himself. First Steps didn’t fare much better, flaring her wings for emphasis but only succeeding in spreading the soot that clung to her feathers far and wide.

“At least my idea helped!”

“You don’t know if my idea didn’t help just as much!”

“Which of us has had firefighting classes and would know better?”

“Neither of us has taken firefighting classes, you dolt!”

Celestia cleared her throat politely to make her presence known. The reaction wasn’t what she would have thought. The caretakers looked at her for only a second before returning to their verbal fighting, only now, she was the subject of their discussion.

“Why’d you call the princess?! We could’ve taken care of this ourselves!”

“I asked Seabreeze to get her before he set his crib on fire!”

Gentle Nudge ran a hoof through his graying hair. “Oh... Is it about...?”

He trailed off quickly, but First Steps nevertheless seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yes,” she replied before turning to Celestia and smiling as though the fight she had just been having with her husband hadn’t taken place. “Good afternoon, Princess.”

It wasn’t the first time that Celestia had seen the two of them get into an argument and forget about it the moment something else claimed their attention, but it never ceased to be a strange experience. Their fighting seemed to be more of a way to vent frustrations without actual anger being involved; a valve that could be closed at will. She offered the two of them a respectful nod. “Good afternoon. How is everything going?”

“Things are going we—” Gentle Nudge winced ever so slightly when his wife slapped him on the back with one of her wings. “Not great. Sorry for calling you here, Your Majesty, but considering the circumstances...”

“Which circumstances might those be, Nudge?” Celestia replied, becoming aware of an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Despite the seemingly normal air the two elderly ponies affected, there was an undercurrent of... weariness to them. The same weariness she often felt while subjecting herself to the ramblings of another madpony in court.

“It’s that hatchling you asked us to take care of, Princess,” First Steps answered her instead of her husband. “He has been so restless and aggressive that we’re afraid to leave him alone for an instant. He keeps trying to bite our hooves off any time we come close and cries at all other times!”

Celestia arched an eyebrow before regarding the dragon hovering by her side with curiosity. He let go of his tail and cooed while extending his arms towards her.

“Goh-ga, goooh-ga!”

“He seems calm to me,” she said, wincing when he managed to grab hold of one of her ears and pulled with all his might. “A little curious and bad with personal space, perhaps but not aggressive.” The two caretakers looked on, slack-jawed, as Celestia carefully disentangled the claws from around her ear. “Have you had any more troubles feeding him?”

“Uh...No, Princess,” First Steps replied after composing herself and swatting her husband on the rump until he too shook himself from his stupor. “Crushed gems seem to be enough for him, though I worry about his calcium intake.”

Celestia nodded sagely. “And what could we do to resolve that?” Truthfully, she probably didn’t know half as much about caring for a young dragon as the two elderly ponies did. Most of what she knew had come from conversations with adult dragons, and only the ones that were tolerant enough to not attack outright. If there was one thing she was good at, however, it was making it seem as though she knew more than she really did.

“We don’t really know, Princess. Normally I would recommend the mother’s milk for a foal this young, but...” First Steps shared a glance with her husband who nodded. “We gathered from your previous explanation that dragons do not suckle their young?”

“As far as I am aware, they do not possess the necessary equipment for it, no,” Celestia said, dividing her attention between the ponies and the hatchling. She had managed to retrieve her ears without any lasting harm, and to her surprise, the young dragon did not seem to mind. Rather than mewl and cry, the dragon was already on the prowl again, this time reaching for her mane.

“In that case, I would say we need a stand-in,” Gentle Nudge said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though stars know where we’re going to find a mare willing to let that little hellion get close enough to actually suckle him.” He got a slap on the back of his head from a wing and turned to his wife. “What?”

“Don’t say those derogatory of things about the little colt we are supposed to care for!” she scolded him.

“It’s not derogatory! He’s not a colt, and he’s feisty, and aggressive...” he glanced over at the dragon who was inching closer and closer to Celestia's flowing locks of hair and deflated. “Usually, anyway.”

So far her trip to the nursery had brought Celestia nothing but pain. Especially when the little dragonling once again managed to get a hold of something that belonged to her. “What—ow—what would that accomplish?” she asked, forced to look at the caretakers at an angle when the little hellion reeled in his prize, giggling all the while. "As I explained before, dragons do not suckle their young, so even if we could find a willing mare, dragons do not possess the same instinctive reflexes young ponies do."

"I'm not so sure about that, Princess," Gentle Nudge replied, looking off to the side in awe.

"And why not?"

In lieu of a vocal answer, both ponies merely pointed at the hatchling who had gone from merely grasping at the magical strands to stuffing them in his mouth and chewing on them. The hair, reinforced by all the magic passing through it, remained unharmed. The little dragon, however, lit up like a Hearth's Warming Eve tree and hiccuped every time he bit down, followed by a stream of giggles before repeating the process.

“He at least has the instinct to put most anything in his mouth,” First Steps said after a few minutes of watching the display with a smile.

Celestia put an end to the hatchling’s schemes by gently prying everything out of the places it shouldn’t be, and levitating him far enough away that he could no longer reach her hair. She soon learned that that was a mistake. The only warning was a single sniff before the young dragon made use of his powerful set of lungs to make all three ponies clamp their ears to their skulls, and burst out in tears; the cacophony had returned.

For once, time was on Celestia’s side. Specifically, the time since the young dragon’s last nap. He quickly fell asleep when Celestia brought him close to her chest at the urging of his caretakers, completely drained from his experiences. She handed him over to First Steps who made him comfortable on the bed, while Gentle Nudge and herself stepped out into the main hall of the nursery. "So tell me, Nudge," she said, surveying the relatively busy room. "Why did you request my presence?"

Nudge sneezed into his hoof, getting soaked obviously hadn’t done his body any favors. “Truth be told, Your Highness, I—” He shot a glance backwards towards the door. “Are dragons really intelligent beings?”

“Of course they are, Nudge. They are as intelligent as you or I,” Celestia replied while she let her gaze drift over the room, spotting a stack of baby blue towels and levitating one over to Gentle Nudge.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said, draping the towel over his back. “With the way he reacts to us, I wasn’t sure.”

“And how exactly does he react to you?”

“Violently.” Nudge put a hoof to his chin for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that’s not true, he acts more like a scared animal. The only times I’ve seen him calm is when he’s asleep, and while you held him just now.” He shrugged helplessly and pointed a hoof towards a group of foals who had fallen asleep and curled up near one another. “I have taken care of ponies my whole life, Your Highness, but when it comes to him, we’re not entirely sure what we’re doing.”

Their conversation was put on hold when a crying filly crawled towards Gentle Nudge. He scooped her up, put her on the towel on his back, and, with an apologetic smile towards Celestia, brought her back to one of the younger caretakers. By the time he came back, First Steps joined them, looking like she herself had been set on fire. She shook her head and smiled when Nudge started towards her. “Don’t worry, dear, he just belched,” she said, taking the towel and using it to help her husband dry off before turning it black with all the soot on her face.

“So if I understand correctly, you want to know more about dragons?”

Nudge nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. Your knowledge surpasses our own, and we were hoping you could compile what you know, so we can take better care of him.”

The frustration she had felt before ambushed Celestia and very nearly overcame her carefully constructed composure. This is why I had to come post haste? Why couldn’t Seabreeze simply have relayed that message instead? Outwardly, all she did was sigh softly before nodding, but while the frustration she felt was reduced to a low boiling shimmer, it did not disappear entirely. “I will try to write down everything I remember.”

The two caretakers smiled at her and then another, sharing a brief kiss before First Steps said, “Thank you, Princess. We’ll put it to good use and make sure that—”

“—Although I must warn you,” Celestia said, holding up a hoof. “I did not exactly sit down for a cup of tea with any of them, so what I know will not be exhaustive, and will likely have gaps which I expect you to fill in.”

“Most certainly, Your Majesty.” Gentle Nudge nodded gratefully. “We just need to know where to start.”

In her mind’s eye, Celestia was treated to a play by play of the two of them trying to quell the fire. “I think the first thing should be getting him a crib that isn’t flammable,” she said, already thinking of a way to incorporate what she had promised them into her schedule without impacting her lessons with Twilight. Perhaps I can simply let her run wild in the library? Stars know she’d be happy enough with that arrangement. Ugh, I need to talk to Sunny.

Talking through the specifics about getting a crib for the dragon that he wouldn’t either turn into ash or eat only took a short while, and when Celestia stepped out of the nursery, her frustration had dropped to mild annoyance levels. Of course, now that something relatively good had happened (although she was hesitant to call the extra work of compiling what she knew of dragons 'good'), the world was sure to throw another obstacle in her way.

Sure enough, she had not even pulled the door closed before a mare she would really rather not talk to walked up to her. Today, Duchess Blueblood was clad in a salacious dress that, despite its brevity, did not do much to entice. It was a dark shade of what Celestia would have described as 'puke-green' and clashed with the unicorn's coat so violently that, hadn’t she known better, Celestia would have assumed that the mare had made a conscious effort to dissuade any suitors.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” the Duchess said, bowing lightly as though their entire exchange a few days ago hadn’t happened. “I couldn’t help but overhear that there were more problems with a certain young one in your care. Keeping them in line can be terribly taxing, can it not?”

Celestia did not respond immediately, mentally preparing herself for the verbal jousting match that was to come. Seeing the spark of fear in the Duchess’ eyes when she opened her mouth was a little cathartic, even if she found a reason to regret everything she said while angry. She was determined not to make the same mistake twice. “Unless you try to mold them in your own image, yes, taking care of young ponies does have its surprises,” she eventually said before turning and walking down a hall that would eventually lead to the throne room.

Having given Blueblood the chance to become her student was not inherently bad; he had once been a gentle colt that loved nothing more than pretending he was the captain of a ship that charted the high seas of Equestria. From the moment he had gotten his cutie mark at the age of seven, however, his mother had taken the reigns of his life away from him. She was convinced that it was his destiny to be a powerful influence on the country and had him taught by the best tutors money could buy. Had it ended there, Celestia would likely have accepted him as her student, but the Duchess had tried to turn him into a younger version of herself and had, sadly, succeeded.

“From what I heard, it apparently concerned an infantile dragonling, rather than a pony,” Duchess Blueblood continued, very nearly breaking out into a canter to keep up with Celestia's increasingly longer strides. “I can only imagine how much of a drain taking care of two young charges is on Your Majesty’s already precious time.”

“It is no less important than presiding over court or restructuring tax laws. One could even say that they are more important.”

“So it is.” Duchess Blueblood nodded knowingly. “Bringing up the younger generation is our way of safeguarding the future of the country, which is why I wanted to talk about my little... faux pas the other day.”

If Celestia hadn't been on her guard already, that sentence would have put her there. Duchess Blueblood wasn't widely known as a master manipulator, mostly due to the fact that she managed to keep it a secret from most anypony. That in itself was no small feat, but hearing her all but apologise made every hair on Celestia's neck stand on end. And yet, the fencing continued.

“I think we can agree that we let our emotions get the better of us,” she replied, extending the conversational equivalent of an olive branch to the mare. Despite all of her misgivings, having the duchess as an enemy would only serve to make her life more difficult. The mare had a lot of powerful friends, and another civil war was the last thing Celestia wanted.

“I went too far, Your Majesty. Your reaction was understandable,” the Duchess said with a small smile. “So when I heard of your scheduling problems, I immediately began thinking of ways to mitigate them.”

By the shrill note of undisguised glee in her voice, Celestia could already tell that she wasn’t going to like the upcoming suggestion. Nevertheless, she kept her face neutral. If she had to deal with Blueblood’s interference, she might as well try to find out what the Duchess was planning. “And what ways would those be, Duchess?”

“For one thing, we could forgo the duel between Twilight Sparkle and my son. From what I have gathered, Your Majesty hasn't gotten around to teaching her even the basics of such an event.” The Duchess stepped in front of Celestia, forcing her to choose between bowling the mare over and listening silently. “Even if that were the case, I doubt she would be able to beat him, and I would like to spare her the humiliation of losing to a clearly superior opponent.”

Celestia grit her teeth but did not immediately reply. Letting her anger get to her would only exacerbate the problem, but perhaps she could use Blueblood's smug sense of superiority to her advantage. “Oh? What makes you so certain that my protege would lose?”

Apparently that wasn't the response the duchess had expected. Her steps faltered for just a moment, and Celestia slowed her pace accordingly. Already, several of the flock that seemed to hound her daily were beginning to arrive, like sharks having smelled blood, even if they were more annoying than dangerous. They kept at a respectful distance, mindful of exactly who it was the princess was having a conversation with.

“Well, I just thought that—”

“Twilight has shown a natural aptitude for magic that far exceeds anything I have seen in my life-time, and I doubt that teaching her how to use those talents against your son could be called sporting,” Celestia continued nonchalantly. “Have you ever seen magical talent in action, Duchess? I have. They become legends in their own time. Frankly I would rather spare my ‘nephew’ that selfsame heartache you so gracefully wish to save Twilight from.”

“Oh, but surely you are putting too much pressure on the poor dear—” the Duchess began, putting on a fake smile.

“Perhaps,” Celestia interjected, cutting her off. “That, however, is an inherent danger of being my personal student. A danger which little Twilight Sparkle was not afraid of.” She let out a breath and straightened. “Now, as you so eloquently pointed out, my schedule is rather full. So while your concern is appreciated, I really must be going.” She marched onward, giving Blueblood no time to come up with a rebuttal, and allowed herself a small smile for having 'won' that particular argument.

That should be enough for a brief respite at the least, she thought with a sigh, mere seconds before the first of her many hangers-on opened his mouth.

Even outside of Equestria's borders, her Court of the Sun was a well-known place. It was so big that it could potentially serve as home for any dragon, and had a ceiling high enough that it could have rained inside were it not for a few skilled weather ponies preventing just that. An imposing place even to those who had only ever heard second (or even third) hoof accounts.

Impressive as the court's size was, however, it was not the reason for the room's fame. The awe surrounding the hall was twofold. One reason was that, as the ages passed, the tales of Celestia's exploits had grown, and the place was seen by many as the actual resting place of the sun after it descended from its place in the sky.

The second was a much more down-to-earth explanation, namely the fact that it was the place many of the now revered agreements had been established. Grand public spectacles like the 'Hoarders Without Borders' treaty had played out within its confines; a most important treaty which signified an agreement between the dragons and all other races that allowed dragons to nest everywhere they pleased so long as they did not cause the indigenous population any undue problems. Or the more closed doors affair dubbed the 'Shades of Gray' peace accord between the gryphons and the zebras in which the former promised to stop raiding the grasslands for supplies, while the later agreed to rescind their curses that had saddled the mountain empire with roughly five thousand years of bad luck.

Celestia had been present at all of them, mediating or making sure that the parties involved even agreed to sit down at the table at all, rather than tearing each other's faces off. But while she always downplayed her own part in the goings on, the Court of the Sun never went unmentioned.

It was part of what she would have called her legacy, had she not been immortal. And yet she could not help but feel a strange sense of disconnection when she finally stepped through the doors. Dealing with those that seemed to be unable to function with a yea or nay from her took upwards of an hour, and finding her court completely empty was a blessing, even if it was also a little disconcerting. Not even the two dozen guards that were usually stationed on either side of the room to dissuade any troublemakers during court itself were present, and were it not for the light teal unicorn seated on the second step of the dais at the end, the room would have been devoid of life.

Getting closer to the dais, Celestia found that she had been mostly right; Sunny Scrolls certainly looked half dead. The unicorn’s normally carefully braided mane had come loose and currently stuck out on all sides in the worst case of bedmane Celestia had seen in a long time, or dais-mane as the case may be. Sunny Scrolls was fast asleep, but even the relative peace that afforded her face could not disguise the deep bags under her eyes. Neither did it hide an annoyed twitch in her left eye that apparently did not leave her alone, even in her rest. In short, the mare looked utterly exhausted.

Perhaps promoting her was too much too soon. She'd only barely gotten her head around taking care of my schedule. Looking down on her sleeping aide made Celestia berate herself for that thought. Like you were any better when you first started out. All she needs is some time. Nopony is going to be able to mimic the work ethic that took you a few hundred years to perfect in just a few short days.

Her deliberations on whether or not to wake Sunny up were disrupted when the door opened and a guard stepped through, barking orders at the sentries posted at the door; At least, it was somepony wearing guard armor. As soon as she had stepped through the door, the lanky mare, who looked a little young to be wearing sergeants stripes, closed it behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. Now that that door was closed, her posture slackened until it was no longer the ‘chin up, eyes front’ stance that was common to Celestia’s soldiers. Instead, the mare barely looked old enough to be called a teenager, whose eyes went wide and who dropped into a shaky bow the moment she noticed Celestia sitting on the dais.

"Y-Your M-M-Majesty!?"

Celestia had stepped in front of Sunny and flared her wings, ready to do battle should the need arise, but seeing her would-be opponent quaver in her presence made her relax. Slightly. Having a pony enter places they shouldn’t be under false pretenses almost always proved to be trouble, and having experienced everything from reporters looking for a scoop that always made her political life more difficult, to assassins intent on... well... doing the job they were hired to do, it was always difficult not to either call her guards or deal with the threat directly. The young mare looked scared enough as it was, however, and although the armor hid the color of her coat and mane, there was something oddly familiar about her.

“Where did you get that Royal Guard armor, my little pony?” she asked the mare who had graduated from a soft trembling to shaking like a leaf.

“I—I...” The mare swallowed roughly. “I stole it from the b-barracks,” she said, bowing again and keeping her eyes on the floor.

Well, at least she’s not an assassin, or if she is, she’s a very poorly trained one. “And why did you steal it?”

“B-because the guards wouldn’t let me into the courtroom.”

“I would surmise not; court isn’t due to start for another...” Celestia briefly closed her eyes, letting the constant pull of the sun slip to the forefront of her consciousness. “Ten minutes, at least. What is so important that you could not wait another ten minutes for court to reopen?”

“W-well...” The mare looked up from the floor from the first time since spotting Celestia and leaned a little to the side to look at the sleeping form of Sunny. “Sunny told me that she was tired, but that she needed to wake up before court started, because otherwise she could lose her job.”

Celestia nodded slowly. It sounded genuine enough, but there was still one piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit. “And why would she tell you, rather than say... the guards stationed outside this very room?”

The mare looked confused for just a moment before returning her gaze to the floor. “Because we share everything..?” Even her admission was uncertain as though she had trouble understanding why the princess would ask her such a question.

“You share...Ah.”

Despite an almost daily inquiry by Celestia, Sunny did not often talk about her personal life. What information she had managed to glean from the normally stoic mare had been a few mentions of how boring life outside the castle had been, and half a dozen speeches about her younger sister who had followed her when she moved to live in the castle. To her shame, Celestia found that she did not remember much beyond hearing that said sister was making herself useful as a maid.

“You are Sunny's sister then?...” she asked, trailing off at the end of her question as a prompt for the mare while tucking her wings back against her sides.

“Quarter Time. Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Quarter Time,” Celestia repeated with a nod. “Rise, my little pony. You needn't be afraid of punishment. I think it is commendable how far you are willing to go for your sister.” The mare finally looked up again and Celestia smiled for good measure.

It took a moment or two, but then the mare visibly relaxed and smiled in turn. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Can I... Can I wake her up now?”

Celestia shook her head softly. “Not yet. I have a few questions for you first, Quarter Time.”

“QT.”

Celestia blinked. Having ponies praise her for her beauty was, while not as frequent as one might think, not a rare occasion. Having such a thing come from a mare who was barely old enough to know what ‘estrus’ meant was much more so. “I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone calls me QT,” the mare repeated sheepishly, “It’s a nickname.”

It was unclear to Celestia whether the young mare actually believed that, or whether she had adopted the playful teasing by the guards and wore the moniker with pride. “‘Cutie’, then. Do you think I have put too much work on your sister's shoulders?”

A silence fell between them while the young mare nervously scuffed the red carpet with her hoof.

“Cutie?” Celestia asked, gently nudging the mare's chin up with her magic. “There are no wrong answers here,” she continued when Quarter Time looked up at her again. "I am merely curious as to your opinion on these matters, and I promise I will not become angry with you for speaking honestly."

“I think so, Your Highness,” Quarter Time replied after nodding. “Sunny would never say that you did, but I haven't seen her at all in the last couple of days.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Well... yeah, a little bit.” The younger mare uncomfortably shifted her weight from one foreleg to the other before continuing. “She worked long hours before, but she's always tried to make time so that we can eat dinner together.”

Flashbacks of the many dinners she had taken alone after Sunny Scrolls excused herself to take one of the few breaks she took during the day flashed through Celestia’s mind. While she had always refrained from inquiring what her aide did during those times, she could not help but wonder. Curiosity was one of the things she tried to instil in her students, praising it as one of the most important assets a pony could possess. It was, however, a double-edged sword, one which even she herself was not immune to.

Hearing at least part of her subconsciously lingering questions answered put her in a much better mood, and her smile in turn became more genuine. “I see,” she said, beckoning the mare closer to the dais with a wing. “Could you tell me what she did say?”

“The last thing she said to me—before she asked me to wake her up, I mean—was that she had gotten a promotion, but that it would probably mean more work and less time for our dinners for a while.”

Celestia sighed heavily and nodded. “I’ve heard enough,” she said, lighting up her horn and gently picking Sunny up with her magic. She floated the sleeping mare over to her sibling and just as gently draped her over the younger mare’s back. “Put her to bed and tell her she won’t have to work tomorrow.”

Immediately Quarter Time stepped forward, fear playing in her eyes. “You’re not going to fire her just because she’s tired, are you?” She stiffened and attempted a half-bow, trying to balance the need to excuse herself with making sure her sister didn’t fall off her back. “Please don’t, she works so hard and—”

“I’m not firing her, Quarter Time,” Celestia interrupted her. “I merely think that she deserves a day off after all the extra work I’ve saddled her with.” She emphasised her smile and waved the young mare off with a hoof before turning to see where Sunny had left the court documents. More proof that ponies in stolen armor always bring problems, she thought with a sigh.

“Your Majesty?”

Celestia's ears perked. She turned back to Quarter Time, who had only taken a single step towards the door. “Yes?”

“What am I supposed to tell her? She's going to be angry at me for breaking my promise.”

Celestia chuckled softly. Becoming angry over not being woken up to do more work... If only I had ten more ponies like her “Tell her that I ordered you to let her rest,” she said, regarding her sleeping aide with a small smile before shrugging. “And if she has a problem with that, she can come be angry with me.”

Slowly, a smile spread on Quarter Time’s face as well, and she nodded before taking her leave.

Waiting never bothered Celestia. It gave her time to think and reflect, or simply enjoy the world outside of the stained glass windows. Unfortunately, she did not get to do a lot of it.

After almost ten minutes of an increasingly frantic search for Sunny’s notes on which supplicants and problems would come forth during evening court, she gave up. Apparently her aide had memorized all she needed, and Celestia had other things yet to take care of, the first of which being lowering the sun. It was immediately followed by apologising to Aegis who stepped into the room through a side door seconds before court was due to start.

The third was, arguably, more important than the first two, since it concerned her word. Even if she had not explicitly given her word, Twilight would, young as she was, have difficulty understanding the difference. Yet, as ever, Equestria—and the wellbeing of her subjects—had to take precedence.

While the doors were being opened and ponies surged through them like it was their last chance to do so, Celestia briefly wondered where Rook was. No matter how precocious Twilight might have been on the way there, lunch should have been a quick enough assignment. Worries that something might have gone wrong wormed their way into the back of her mind, but were quickly squashed. If anypony knows how to handle himself, it is Rook. Everything will be fine.

The crowd continued to file in, and Celestia’s worries about Twilight and Rook were supplanted by worries about ponies trampling one another. Much like a few days prior, it looked as though half of Canterlot had come to evening court (with the other half likely being the cause of Sunny’s exhaustion.) The sheer number of ponies would become a hazard sooner rather than later, and that was without taking high-running tensions into account. The din of voices, already swelling to grating levels, wouldn’t help matters. It seemed as though every pony present thought that they could get her attention by shouting their complaints at her. Finally, she decided enough was enough.

Raising her voice, she tried to address the ones gathered inside the room. “My little ponies! Please calm yourselves!”

The crowd did not respond in the slightest, and even having shouted, Celestia doubted anypony had heard her through the cacophony. She looked to the guards which had entered through the side doors, but found no help there either. Each and every one of them was trying to keep watch while at the same time positioning ponies in a preset way which allowed for the maximum coverage of the hall. Even Aegis was busy, trying to keep ponies from stampeding onto the dais itself, and likely missing his partner in anti-crime while doing so.

She let out a sigh and lit up her horn, using a modification of a simple heating spell to vibrate the air and produce a clear ringing sound that was audible for most of the castle.

The crowd hushed, something she was grateful for. First things first. “I understand all of you have concerns, but the throne room cannot contain everyone at once. If you must speak with me, a guard at the entrance to the castle will make appointments for court at a later date. The rest of you, please return to your homes.” There were some of murmurs of discontent, but most ponies seemed... relieved for some reason. More bizarrely, while a few ponies still wanted to gain entrance to the throne room, many of the ones already inside actually turned around and left after getting a good look at the dais.

After the commotion died down a little and the doors to the throne room had finally closed, court could begin in earnest. Or it would have, if ponies had stayed silent.

“Princess! Thank goodness you have returned!” came the shared sentiment from many voices in the crowd.

Celestia hid her bewilderment behind a motion for silence and waited for things to die down before beckoning one of the closest mares forward. Finding the right way to admit that she did not know what was going on was a challenge, and in the end she settled for a simple nod. Letting ponies fill in the blanks for her was often less arduous than to be questioned about her ignorance.

“There were rumors that you might be sick. Some even claimed that you were dying!” the mare exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “What happened, Princess?”

Celestia looked around the room and saw the relief the mare expressed mirrored in many of the faces present. Perhaps... she thought. Perhaps promoting Sunny without any sort of transition was a bad idea after all. She looked back at the mare and plastered a gentle smile on her face.

“Nothing terrible I assure you,” she said before raising her voice so the entire room would be able to hear her. “My little ponies, the rumors about my failing health are all false. I know it may have caused some confusion among you to see Sunny Scrolls in charge of court proceedings over the last couple of days, but I can tell you that it is a wholly positive thing.”

“Positive? That mare has made more mistakes yesterday than you did in... well... ever!”

Yes, a transitionary period would have been preferable. At least I could have taught her more about how court itself actually works. Celestia bit back a sigh and turned towards the voice. “Does she have both wings and a horn?”

The crowd murmured, but whomever had called out their discontent remained silent.

Celestia nodded resolutely. “I see. Then I believe it is only fair she be given some time to acclimate to her position like anypony would need to given the circumstances of her new office. I guarantee that she is the best mare for the job, and that court will be back to normal within weeks, if not sooner.”

“But why aren’t you presiding over court yourself, Princess?” the mare in front of the dais asked. She looked more worried about the change in routine than she had been about Celestia herself. It was not a big surprise; herd-minded though ponies were, they were still concerned with themselves first and foremost. Yet, something about it all irked Celestia.

As the only—well, one of the only—ponies to see the rise and fall of empires, she knew just how important change could be. In fact, she had buried herself in monotony after her fight with her sister, and if she could have changed anything then, she would have.

And it took nine hundred and eighty-nine years and a young filly to snap you out of it.

She conceded the point to herself. Perhaps she wasn’t as different from regular ponies as she would like. And though it wouldn’t be wise to show them as much, it did make her sympathise with them more. She looked the crowd over and smiled. It was different from the ones she usually wore, although most ponies probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference; it was meant to comfort those that found themselves floundering without some stable point in their lives.

“Most of you will be aware that I took it upon myself to educate a young filly, after the incident in the Tower of the Scholar several weeks ago.” She got many an affirmative nod while others vocalized their understanding, some even shouting it as though they were afraid of not being heard. “What you might not know is that, because of this, I’ve had to rearrange my schedule. I have not had a day off in over eight hundred years, and I thought that this was as good a time as any to do so.” The murmuring of the crowd swelled until it looked like they would break out into another shouting match, but Celestia held up a hoof and waited for everything to die down. “As such, Sunny Scrolls will be my replacement in court proceedings going forward. I trust her implicitly and will only occasionally be present at court.”

“What about the council?” a stallion shouted. “I heard you fired all of them! Were they affecting your ‘personal’ time as well?”

“Without meaning any disrespect towards many members of said council, I’m willing to say that they were much too complacent in their positions, and inadequate in their council,” Celestia countered smoothly. “They failed to do the job they were meant to, and as such were relieved of said positions. Do not worry, however, for a new council will be formed in the near future.” Her answer drew a gasp from several ponies, and half a dozen even stomped towards the door angrily. Perhaps not the most diplomatic response Celestia... As soon as the peace returned she cleared her throat and said, “With those announcements out of the way, let us begin court in earnest.”

How she ever got through an entire day of court before, Celestia did not know. All she knew was that, as the hours passed, pony after pony with worry after worry had come forward, and she hadn’t had the heart to dismiss court at its usual time.

Her lack of sleep the previous night made itself known with the most severe case of headache yet, and by the time Celestia turned the corner into the hallways leading to her chambers, she was limping along on three hooves while the fourth had all but fused with her forehead.

All the stress and exhaustion was pushed to the back of her mind when she spotted a very worried-looking Rook. The guard stood in front of the door to Twilight’s room, looking every which way while his stoic, non-plussed guard expression was nowhere to be found.

“Rook?” The name came out a little testier than she would have liked, and the way the stallion jumped to attention made her try very hard to soften her expression. “What is going on here?”

Rook flinched. “It is Twilight Sparkle, Princess.”

Celestia couldn’t help but frown, though she suspected it came out as more of a glare if Rook’s response was any indication.

The guard dropped both his saluting hoof and gaze to the floor, looking more like a remorseful teenager than the professional soldier that he was. “My apologies, Princess. She said she had forgotten her book and wanted to go retrieve it before sprinting off. I lost sight of her somewhere near the infirmary.” He hung his head. “I haven’t been able to locate her since. Please, forgive me.”

“Did you check any of the libraries?”

Rook nodded. “I checked all of them, Princess.”

The hoof on Celestia’s head slipped and she used it instead to rub her eyes. “The baths? The kitchen? The infirmary?” Rook’s nods told her that he had. “Very well, you check the astronomy library again.” She turned to her other guard. “Aegis? Could you alert the rest of the castle staff that Twilight is missing, and that they should bring her to me if they find her? I’ll search the main library myself.”

Both guards saluted her once more and took off in different directions, leaving Celestia to curse the filly under her breath before going back the way she had come.

Having a filly lost in the castle was not uncommon. With well over a hundred families living in the gigantic structure, such things were bound to happen every now and again. It was, however, the first time that it was a filly Celestia had personally taken responsibility for. Which meant that despite the entirely too exhausting day, she couldn’t go to bed before making sure that Twilight was occupying one as well.

Four days was nowhere near enough to really get to know somepony, but all the things she did know about the young unicorn pointed her towards the libraries. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but smile when she remembered how Twilight had disappeared while Celestia herself had sat down to talk with her parents.

Two stairs, three corridors, and an altogether too heavy door for her mind to comfortably open later, she reached the main castle library. Given that the castle was big enough to have entire libraries dedicated to certain subjects, the main library was not as big as it could have been. That did not mean that it did not still hold many thousands of books and the stands on which to hold them, however, and Celestia dreaded having to go through it all in order to find her young charge.

Asking the scant few ponies that were still present if they had seen a young filly was a lost cause. Those that weren’t stumbling towards the exit sleepdrunk had their noses buried so deep in their respective books that they did not even respond when she addressed them.

After half an hour of fruitless searching, Celestia came to a halt near the center of the library, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh. As curiosity would have it, that’s when she heard soft whimpering coming out of a nearby alcove. Three steps later, she looked into the niché to find a terrified-looking Twilight Sparkle who was close to crying on one end, and a closed book whose title boldly proclaimed: ‘Everything You Never Wanted To Know About Spellcasting; Mishaps And Mayhem’ on the other. The filly had distanced herself from the book as though physical separation would somehow diminish the reality of the things she had read within.

“Twilight?” she said softly, having a hard time keeping the annoyance out of her voice.

One moment Twilight looked up at her, and the next she had hurled herself forward and clung to one of Celestia’s forelegs. “C-can that really happen?” the filly asked shakily.

Celestia had only a vague inkling of what Twilight was talking about, but the title of the book gave her a good indication of the what and perhaps more importantly the why of Twilight’s little excursion. Better afraid than dead... “Yes, Twilight. Such things can happen if you’re not careful.” The filly’s response was to cling to her leg that much harder, and Celestia realised that Twilight would need comforting before she could even think about putting her to bed. “Don’t worry about it, Twilight. Such things almost never happen, and we’ll make sure they don’t happen to you.”

Talking to Twilight did not seem to have any effect, and shaking her leg likewise produced no tangible results; even her magic was unsuccessful in dislodging Twilight from her foreleg on short notice. She grumbled softly and, in a fit of exasperation, decided that Twilight would have to stay there for the time being. She set off towards the filly’s room, its occupant still firmly holding on to her leg.

On the way she ran into Aegis, who only just stepped into the library to inform her of the progress of the search. The guard saluted and said: “Everypony has been informed, Princess. We’ll search the castle top to bottom if need be.”

Celestia managed a smile for him and lifted up her foreleg to show him the target of said search. “That will no longer be necessary, Aegis, but thank you for your diligence. Could you relay my thanks to the rest of the staff as well?” She used the hoof attached to the foreleg to stifle a yawn, briefly turning Twilight upside down as well. “Twilight and I really should get to bed.”

A hint of a smile ghosted over Aegis’ face before he forced his expression back to neutrality and nodded. “Of course, Princess. A good night to you both.”

“To you as well.” And with that, she left the stallion to his duties and walked back through the door, down the hallways and up the stairs, albeit it slower than before, conscious of her precious cargo.

When Celestia finally reached Twilight’s room, she mustered her magic and pried Twilight’s legs from her own, levitating her up and setting her down on the bed. “Good night, Twilight. Please try to get some rest.”

She turned around and got halfway to the door before a tiny voice behind her asked, “Princess?”

Another sigh escaped her before she turned back to the sight of a shivering filly with tear-filled eyes. “Yes, Twilight?”

The filly sniffed and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Would you... would you stay with me tonight?” The reasoning behind her question remained unsaid, yet was clear as day. Twilight was terrified of what she had read.

In her diplomatically trained mind, Celestia found a thousand and one excuses, explanations and reasonings for why Twilight should simply lay down and try to sleep. Cold logic debated for efficiency, annoyed exhaustion thought an excuse about being late for something or other was the best idea, and Sunny’s sentence about becoming too close whispered caution. Yet, after hearing all of their positions inside her own head and even considering some of them, she managed to convince herself that she was tired enough that any bed would do, and that, if it helped her student sleep, then so much the better. After a full minute of silence, she shrugged, said, “I don’t see why not,” and walked back towards the bed.

Sleeping was always hard for the Princess of the Sun, partly due to her history and the connotations towards her sister that she still could not shed after so long, and partly because she always buried herself in work lest the sadness of the former overwhelm her; while Twilight’s small frame fit into the bed many times over, for Celestia, it was only barely big enough, and that was only if she let one of her wings hang from the side.

And yet, even though she had a hard time finding a comfortable position, the scared young filly insulating herself against her neck made all the difference. Normally, Celestia had to chase after sleep, as though it were an elusive butterfly that did not want to be caught.

“Good night, Princess,” came Twilight’s high-pitched voice after a few more moments of silence.

Princess Celestia did not respond. This night, sleep had found her.

Tell Me Your Secrets

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“Good morning, Twilight. Are you ready for your next lesson?” The princess’ soft voice made Twilight open her eyes with a bright smile. The light of the early morning sun poured through the lone window in her room and lit up the similarly smiling face of Princess Celestia. “I’ve decided to take the entire day off so that we might really begin your education.”

Twilight wanted to squee in happiness, but contented herself with an enthusiastic, “I’m ready, Princess!”

The princess nodded. “Very good. Follow me then,” she said, materializing on the other side of the bed and walking out the door.

Twilight quickly scampered after her, stepping into a classroom with a single student bench at the center after a journey that seemed to take no time at all. She took her seat after the princess motioned at it, opening the tome she found there.

Books were always treasure troves of information, and it would have been no different for this one, if Twilight had been able to read any of it. She was sure it contained the secret to spells such as teleportation, duplication, and creating ice cream out of thin air. More than just the spells, it would describe the runological systems and mental barriers a filly like Twilight might run into if she were to try any such spell, and ways to overcome said obstacles. But much to her frustration, the text on the pages kept moving around; the letters didn’t look like any she had ever seen before and they all squirmed off of the page as though they were shy about being read.

Twilight growled softly. “Tell me your secrets, book.”

The book, and the letters contained within, didn’t deign to listen to her subvocal threat. Before she had a chance to ask the princess about it, however, the princess began her explanation. “Today, I wanted to start with some of the more advanced spells,” the alicorn said, picking up half a dozen crayons and drawing some vaguely geometrical shapes on the blackboard at the front. “Since you’ve already teleported without any major side effects, I think it would be prudent to show you how to do so safely. You should start by gathering enough power to—”

Twilight decided that not being able to read the book wasn’t super important. She could always ask the princess about it later, and it if it was really important, the princess would surely cover it in the lesson. She found it easier to understand what the princess was explaining than she would have thought, and by the time the lesson came to an end, she felt like she understood the basics of every magic there was.

“Is that clear?” the princess asked, putting a punctuation mark after a line of text that was also too blurry to read.

“Yup!” Twilight chirped, staying silent for a moment afterwards to formulate the right way to ask her question. “Princess? Why didn’t you just tell me this when I teleported the first time?”

“Because I was worried about you, Twilight,” the princess replied. “I wanted to make sure that you didn’t make the mistake of teleporting everywhere before I could explain how to do so safely.”

Twilight nodded.

“I think that we should see if raising the sun becomes any easier before anything else,” the princess continued, already making for the door. “Maybe I’ll even let you in on a few secrets that will make it easier.”

The classroom and the book were instantly forgotten and Twilight hugged one of the princess’ forelegs the moment the balcony materialised around them. “You’re the best princess ever, Princess.”

The princess lowered her head and embraced Twilight in return. “Thank you, Twilight. I don’t know what I would do without you.” The hug lasted forever, but at the same time, not nearly long enough. It felt safe being in the princess’ embrace and only when Twilight couldn’t handle the anticipation any longer did she break it, in favor of asking about what she should be doing.

“First of all,” the princess began, drawing a little diagram in the air, “you need to visualise grabbing it as you would an item in another room...”

The long explanation took no time at all, and when Twilight felt secure enough in her understanding of the theory, she threw out her magic like a lasso and tightened it around the sun before giving it a mighty pull. It didn’t have nearly the impact she had hoped it would; In fact, it didn’t have any impact at all.

The sun stubbornly remained where it had been the entire day and mockingly lit up the balcony, taunting Twilight with its unmoving splendor. Twilight nervously smiled up at the princess, only to discover that the once proud smile that had sat on the princess’ face had been replaced by a sorrowful headshaking.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” the princess said, “I should have known you weren’t ready for this—”

“But I am!” Twilight interrupted her. She turned back to the sun and growled, strengthening her magical hold on it and giving it another yank.

And then it all went wrong.

The light of the sun faded in an instant, casting the entire world in a cold darkness before it fell from the skies, unceremoniously breaking into a thousand pieces when it hit the ground. Despite the absence of light, however, Twilight found that she could still clearly make out her surroundings, and what she made out scared her more than anything.

The princess was looking at her in disbelief, pain and betrayal filling her eyes as though Twilight had done the unspeakable. Twilight wasn’t sure that she hadn’t.

“What have you done?” the princess whispered.

“I didn’t mean to break the sun!” Twilight yelled in a panic. “I just wanted to—”

“How could you? Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I only did what you told me to do!”

Something within the princess broke and with a cry of anguish she sunk to her knees disappearing into a veil of fog in front of Twilight’s disbelieving eyes. The fog rolled and broiled for what seemed like ages, and yet it couldn’t have been more than a minute before it began to move towards Twilight.

All of the warmth and happiness she had felt, fled when the fog touched her, replaced by fear and anxiety. It was cold. Colder than anything she had ever felt, and with that cold also came a crushing sense of disappointment. Twilight galloped out the door with a shriek of fear, but like a manticore, the fog had caught her scent—or rather, her fear. She ran through the castle hallways, chased by the fog which was steadily increasing its speed, hounding her at every turn until it lapped at her fetlocks.

There was no time. As a last ditch effort, she dove into her room and curled into a ball on her bed, making herself as small as she could. She silently prayed that the fog wouldn't find her here, but it was to no avail. Even from beneath the blankets she could see it snake its way through her room engulfing anything and everything it touched in a layer of frost. Closing her eyes tightly didn't help. Though the fog hadn’t gotten to her yet, she was already shivering in fear, and she could still imagine the creature as it reared up to engulf her as well.

Everything went black.

Twilight woke up screaming. She bolted upright, scrambling to get away from her incorporeal foe until a much more corporeal one foiled any ideas she might have had. She tumbled out of bed, bedsheets and all, shaking and shivering while the cold sweat streamed from every pore of her body. Slowly, the remnants of fear and adrenaline wore off and she scanned the room with eyes and ears alike, hoping against hope that she wouldn't find the fog.

For minutes she sat there, gathering up the courage to peek over the bed to confirm to herself that it had just been a bad dream. Only when she did and found nothing except a singular white feather on the bed right next to where she had lain did she calm down. It was just a bad dream, she told herself, Of course the princess couldn’t turn into a Wendigo. Still, as she pulled the rest of her consciousness back from the veil of sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder where the princess had run off to. Celestia had definitely been there when she’d finally gone to bed; Twilight remembered snuggling up under a wing, using it as a second blanket as much as shield to keep the scary thoughts away. Not that it had helped much.

She picked up the feather in her magic, wondering if losing feathers hurt—and then wondering if it was her fault that the princess had lost a feather somehow. Even with the sun shining through the lone window in her room, and the happy songs of the birds outside, she was having a hard time shaking the cold, gloomy feeling that her bad dream had caused. Right now, her room was the last place she wanted to be.

So where is she? And what am I supposed to do now? Twilight knew one thing for sure: sitting around thinking about it wasn't going to get her anywhere. She opened her door and watched ponies hurry towards their destinations for a while, but despite seeing a softly conversing trio of guards and a maid tending to the shrubbery, there wasn't anypony she recognised, or felt comfortable talking to. Walking up to strangers wasn't something she had ever been good at.

Still, coming up with a plan for what to do next was relatively simple. I bet Mead knows where the princess is. Unfortunately, in the scant few days since her arrival, she still hadn't had a comprehensive guided tour of the castle, which meant that finding him could prove to be just as difficult as finding the princess. She glanced back at the door to her room, briefly considering simply staying in bed and reading a chapter or two of Daring Do. After just a moment she set her jaw and closed the door with a smack. Daring wouldn't sit around waiting for somepony else to do something, and I won't either. Decision made, she nodded to herself and, with one look in the direction of the sun-emblazoned doors, took off in the direction she thought held the Grand Dining Hall.

She had seen enough of the castle to know that the winding the corridors of the castle contained a lot of twists, turns, and dead ends. Unfortunately, knowing that such things existed and knowing how to navigate them were two very different things. The first right turn she made was an immediate failure, and she came face to face with a solid wall, flanked by two statues; though they might have been guards, she wouldn’t have put it past them. Twilight about faced and went the other way, looking towards the other ponies, some of whom were galloping through the somewhat crowded hallways at breakneck speeds. She wouldn’t have been able to keep up with them even if she wanted to, and instead followed the groups of ponies that seemed to know where they were going, using them to guide her.

She encountered two more dead ends, too many corners to keep track of, and after descending a truly massive set of stairs, she arrived at a place that at the very least had a lot of ponies: The Promenade.

The name was about the only thing she knew for sure thanks to the big embossed letters that hung over the archway entrance. That, and the fact that there were more creatures in that single huge room than she had ever seen together, including the Grand Dining Hall. All around her there were ponies, zebras, minotaurs and even the occasional... half lion, half bird creature; all of whom were talking about market shares, arguing about prices, or walking around admiring the many curious and interesting items that were on display.

What she couldn't explain was the fact that she appeared to have either left the castle altogether, or had reached some walled-off courtyard that she had never heard of before. Even though she had just gone down a flight of stairs, the ceiling had vanished, giving way to a view of a pleasantly warm, if overcast, sky. Twilight cautiously stepped into the room, a little overwhelmed by everything she saw, and was almost trampled by a group of creatures following an eccentric-looking unicorn mare.

"Welcome to The Promenade!” the mare shrieked in a voice that hurt Twilight’s ears, making her clamp them to her skull for a while before trying to listen in again. If anything, the mare knew where she was and perhaps even where she needed to go to get to the Dining Hall. “—rving as the literal foundation of the castle, and connected by two stairs to the main entrance, The Promenade has become the most well known trading hub in the kingdom!”

The group shuffled along and some of the creatures in it left out of nowhere, making it a little easier for Twilight to stay close. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of legs and tried to get a little closer to the mare whose neon pink hair was like a beacon, showing the way through the confusing setup of market stalls. “Originally, the nebulous space with enhanced support pillars—which, when combined, carry a weight of over one and a half million tonnes!—was used as storage and refuge in the admittedly unlikely event the castle were ever to face a siege. Over the years, as our fair Princess Celestia forged peace between most every nation on the face of Equestria, however, the nigh forgotten storage facility became home to a grey market, a trading hub for legal and illegal goods alike, hidden right under the noses of the guard. When their dealings were discovered several hundreds of years ago, the princess, in her infinite wisdom, decided that the time for fear of siege had passed, and ordered it turned into the wonderous place it is today.”

“Miss?” Twilight asked as loudly as she dared, worming her way underneath a massive stallion’s barrel. She wasn’t about to risk trying to get past the lion-bird creatures at the front, but hopefully she had gotten close enough for the mare to hear her.

“Although The Promenade is situated under twelve feet of solid rock, a pony could be forgiven for thinking they were right outside,” the mare continued obliviously, leading the group towards a slightly more open area. Unfortunately, there were so many lion-bird creatures that Twilight still didn’t see any opportunity to get closer.

“Boring, isn’t it?”

Twilight nearly jumped out of her skin when a gruff voice hollered into her ear. She looked to the side and found a mottled brown colt who she expected was about the same age she was; or perhaps a few years older than she was if his height and voice were any indication.

“You a mute?” he asked, peering her searchingly while the tour guide droned on.

Twilight quickly shook her head. “N-no. I guess it’s a little boring...” she replied. Truthfully, she found listening to, and learning about, the history the castle to be interesting, fascinating even. However, she knew from past experiences that she was probably the only filly who felt that way. Teasing and bullying had been constants in her life in elementary school, and she didn’t really want for the same thing to happen here. “If... if it’s boring, what are you doing here?” she asked tentatively, trying to divert the colt’s focus away from herself.

He shrugged. “Y’know, blending in, hiding from the folks. You?”

“S-same.” Twilight didn’t quite understand why anypony would want to be away from their parents. Although she kept busy during the day, there hadn’t yet been a night that had gone by without thoughts of what they must be doing. She didn’t even really understand why she’d replied the way she did, but the amused snort from the colt made it clear that it had, at least, had been the right move.

“First timer, huh? Don’t worry, The Prom’s plenty crowded enough. Your folks will never find you.” He glanced around and ducked when he apparently spotted his own. “Gotta run. See you around.”

Twilight limply waved and watched him disappear in the crowd, briefly scanning the ponies behind her for any indication as to whom his parents might be. She came up empty, briefly wondering what his name was before shrugging. He was gone now, which meant that he wouldn’t judge her for listening to the rest of the tour.

“—ough cooperation between the then master builders, the finest mages alive—like Starswirl the Bearded—and the clever use of specially treated illusionary crystals found in the caves below, the ceiling has an enduring enchantment that makes the ceiling mirror the sky outside and even mimics the weather!

“We have learned that the original design called for ceilings like this one throughout the entire castle, because the princess wanted to be able to enjoy the sky no matter where she was, but after first expense reports in both bits and time came in, the design was reworked.

“It has even been speculated that if the gross profit of everything that has been sold since the inception of The Promenade were to be put toward the construction of the original plan, it would still take a dozen of lifetimes for enough bits to be gathered.”

The more Twilight learned about the sometimes sordid history of the castle, the more real her fantasy of being in a Daring Do novel felt. Every adventure Daring found herself in, with the possible exception of comic books, started with some factual information about Equestrian history, and by the time the tour guide thanked everycreature for their attention, Twilight had all but thought herself an explorer. The only things missing to complete the experience were a secret passage leading to a long lost treasure chamber and a pith helmet, and she was determined to find at least one of the two.

Twilight's expectations of finding a pith helmet were lowered significantly when she remembered that she didn’t actually have any bits on her—or at all for that matter. Do the princess’ students get an allowance? She didn’t know, which meant that it went on the ever growing list of questions she wanted to ask the princess when she got the chance. But while a helmet was out of the question, that didn’t mean that finding a secret passage had to be; though after having surveyed the area, she came to the decision that The Promenade wasn’t the right place to look.

Daring Do always goes to a crowded area to find information before looking for the tomb, Twilight thought, nodding to herself. Of course, there was almost always a fight scene in which she knocked out several of the bad guy’s henchmen—and at least one cabbage cart—but given that Twilight didn’t know how to fight, nor saw anypony that looked particularly evil, she decided to forgo that part.

The next hour was spent searching. Twilight left no section of wall unchecked, going so far as to press her muzzle against it so she could see every minuscule crack. , She searched tirelessly, looking for telltale puffs of air that might indicate a break in the surface, trying to divine any magical passages she wouldn’t be able to detect without her magic. Her only reward was frustration when not a single one yielded any passages. Poking and prodding suspicious-looking stones and outcroppings in the wall met with similar lack of success, but the filly persevered. It was only after the sun had reached its zenith that Twilight finally decided to take a break.

She had been looking over every inch of one of the dead ends she had run into during her search, and a particularly creepy and dank looking one at that. It should have been perfect; secret hidden passages were statistically much more likely to be in places that ponies had forgotten about and— “Blehhh...” Twilight had held her nose and tried not to breathe too deeply while she searched—the maids had certainly forgotten about this place. Yet, for all her exhaustive exploration, she couldn’t find even a single entrance.

She sat down with a frustrated sigh, leaning against a small statue of the princess. The statue had gone just as forgotten as the rest of the dead end, but at least the area surrounding the statue didn't contain as much dust as the rest of it. The smooth stone felt cold against her cheek and Twilight sighed again, just to relieve the knot in her chest. I can’t even do ‘finding a secret passage’ right, she thought glumly. The hexagonal base of the statue pressed into her side as if to remind her that leaning against a statue wasn’t exactly helping her find anything. She shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position.

A moment later her face met with the marble floor tiles. It was only the briefest of meetings, but the dust on the floor left Twilight with a sneezing fit either way. As soon as it had passed she looked up at the statue, trying to figure out what had happened. The significantly smaller-than-life figurine of the princess still looked down at her like nothing had happened, but when she inspected the base, she could make out faint traces of an indentation in the floor and a small sliver of floor which looked untouched by dust.

It was all Twilight could do to suppress her squeal of excitement. This is it! This is it! Yesyesyesyesyesyes. She managed to calm herself after only three celebratory laps around the statue before inspecting it again. This time, she tried to figure out if it was safe to move it, and what kind of traps would be waiting for her; every single one of the evil geniuses and ancient evil overlords had traps on their secret passages after all.

Despite her best efforts, however, she found no pressure plates, invisible switches, or possible trap activating devices of any kind. It was baffling. What kind of a dumb evil pony wouldn't boobytrap the entrance to their secret lair? she wondered. Come to think of it, she didn't really know that many overlords, evil or otherwise.

The duchess... Blueblood! She was most definitely evil! Twilight briefly pondered on the exact evil-ness of the mare, but eventually shook her head. She's too smart. Not to mention the fact that this castle didn't even belong to her, which led the filly to a worrying conclusion: Could the princess be an evil overlord? She certainly possessed the resources to be one. Princess Celestia had her own army of soldiers; those would be the minions. A huge castle with secret doors and traps, sans the traps... And the motivation to try and take over the country from its rightful—

Oh... Twilight frowned. That possibility went out the window as well. The princess already had a country to rule, so she lacked most of the motivation that normally drove evil overlords. Unless she wants more land... but she cares about ponies, right? Twilight nodded in accordance with herself: the princess was a good pony.

So maybe this is a good guy secret doorway? The notion felt strange. Good guys didn't usually need to hide things away because they had justice on their side. Twilight looked at the statue again. Then again, there’s no reason good guys can't have secret doorways, is there? She could only come up with one good reason for good ponies to hide away important things, and the realisation made her eyes widen in awe.

“Princess Celestia is a superhero,” she whispered to nopony in particular.

Before she went any further, Twilight checked to see if anypony was looking at her. Sure it was a dead end, and dark, and dirty. Sure it was out of the way for most ponies and sure she was at least partially hidden by a statue, but that didn't mean that nopony would get curious. Right now, Twilight couldn't have curiosity by anypony other than herself; not when she was about to find out the princess' secret identity. Luckily, the pair of guards that had passed her earlier seemed to have continued their patrol, and the mares who had given her an indulgent smile were gone as well. The princess' secret would be safe if she acted quickly

After putting her head up against the base of the statue, and pouring all of the strength her little body possessed into her hind legs, she inched the statue out of the way. What she had thought to be an indentation turned out to be a neat circular hole in the floor; too small for her hooves, and too dark to see anything. Twilight refused to give up, however, and she became ever more creative in her attempts to open it.

Finally, after twenty odd failed attempts an errant thought made her take a step back and regard the hole with something that resembled patience. Maybe it's for a horn? Even in her head it sounded strange; ponies couldn't bend that far, so why would anypony make a hole for a horn in the floor?

Without any other ideas, she settled for simply trying to make it work; which proved to be rather difficult. Twilight had never been the most athletic of ponies, but even if she had been, the contortionism required was staggering. She tried lying down on her back and looking up, which failed because she couldn’t find the hole and had problems with the angle when she finally did; rolling up into a ball, which failed because she couldn’t see anything through the hair of her own tail; and finally, standing on her forehooves while carefully lowering herself— and her horn— in parallel with the hole.

With only a vague idea on how to achieve her intended goal, and with a grace that was more luck than skill, she took a few steps back, sprinted towards the statue, and skidded to a halt, letting her momentum carry her into an inverse position.

It was spectacular feat of strength and balance, even if her hind legs were resting against the statue base for stability. What she hadn't counted on was how taxing it would be. Standing on just her forelegs without them buckling and sending her crashing to the ground was so strenuous that her forelegs were shaking before she had even good and well gotten into position. Sweat poured from her forehead, neck and most anywhere that had hair follicles. It rolled down into her eyes and stung while she tried to keep herself lined up, making it that much more difficult to focus.

She couldn’t hold out for long, and well before she had even reached the focal point of her circus act, she swayed forward and her legs gave out. She tumbled over, the floor helpfully meeting her back in an uncomfortable landing. “Owww...” She lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath. Frustration with her inability to open the secret passage unfortunately also brought with it the feeling of inadequacy. Stupid secret passage. Why couldn’t you have been designed by somepony who was bad at gym class? The thought brought an unbidden smile to her face. She had no doubts that the princess could do anything, but imagining her standing on her head was funny... and not very likely. Unless... She looked around the corner once more, trying to make sure that nopony was paying any attention to her and what she was doing before lighting up her horn and sending a tendril of magic down the hole, blindly grasping at whatever lay within.

It turned out that there wasn't a whole lot to grasp in the hole; nothing in fact. But before Twilight could bemoan yet another failed attempt, she heard a soft click from the wall behind her. At around eyeheight for an adult, a neat circular hole hissed, retreating into the wall and spawning a network of glowing lines, the outlines of which coalesced into princess Celestia's cutie mark before fading away. The wall disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Twilight looking at nothing more than the few clouds of dust that tumbled out, and pitch black darkness.

Part of her was scared. Monsters that hid in the darkness were still very much real to her, and the tunnel had enough darkness to house a whole army of them. Despite herself, however, she was also excited; seeing the princess' cutie mark on the opening just proved her superhero theory, and though the voices of fear and caution wailed in the back of her mind, she stepped into the tunnel without a backwards glance.

The secret passage, as it turned out, was designed to remain so. No sooner had Twilight stepped through the entrance than the entire thing closed behind her, leaving her standing in the dark.

Bad idea. Bad idea! her mind screamed, gaining a lot more influence now that the safe security of daylight right behind her had vanished. Suddenly, she wasn't feeling so adventurous anymore. Instead of superheroes and explorers, her mind turned to the horrors that she was sure were hiding just a few paces in front of her, waiting for her to move so they could devour her.

Did something just touch her leg? She backpedaled skittishly until her rump collided with the closed-off entrance. She hitched and it only took a moment for her already paranoid mind to convince her that she would be stuck in that secret passage forever. And that was only if the unseen monsters didn't get her first. She curled up against the wall, trying not to burst out into tears; explorers didn't cry, didn't hide from danger, and they certainly weren't afraid of a little darkness.

She swallowed the fear and rubbed away the threatening tears, before getting to her hooves and stepping forward into the darkness. It could have been a heroic statement if she hadn't immediately bumped into something and retreated back into her corner with a high-pitched shriek. The second time around, the fear took a little longer to subside. Even after it had gone, Twilight did not move immediately, too busy frowning into the darkness. Why didn't I just use..?

A few seconds later a tiny light sparked in the darkness, quickly gaining in strength until the entire room was illuminated, and it was the darkness that cowered in the corners. Twilight stood, back to the wall, and smiling triumphantly while her brightly glowing horn chased away the non-existent monsters just as it had in her fear-of-the-dark-riddled past.

Unfortunately, the room wasn't exactly what she'd been hoping to find. Rather than being a super secret superhero lair—with cool gadgets, or at the least a superhero costume—it had more in common with an armory, and an abandoned one at that. The walls of the long rectangular room were lined with row upon row of rusted armor, and the weapons were suffering a similar fates in their racks in the middle. What was left of the tapestries was too faded to make out, and even the door in the back was more decomposed rubble than an actual barrier. The most common things in the room were dust and cobwebs, which seemed to cover most everything; the dust blanketed the room in such quantities that it reached up to Twilight's chest.

The only things that looked relatively untouched by the passage of time, were: a light set of white-golden armor, designed to protect the torso and underbelly but not much else; and a sword of similar alloy that was bigger than Twilight herself. Its long, slightly curved scabbard rested against the stand that held the armor, though the stand apparently hadn't been protected by the same magic that that items had been imbued with.

Twilight cautiously made her way towards it, checking every small shadow for monsters. Just because they hadn't shown themselves yet didn't mean that they weren't there. The dust swirled and clung to her coat as she moved, occasionally making her cough or sneeze, and clearly showed the path she took through the room. She wrinkled her muzzle in distaste; the air in the room was stale and smelled like old socks. There wasn't anything she could do about it, however, so she tried not to let it bother her. The life of an explorer is never easy, she thought to herself with a solemn nod.

An explorer's life did, however, contain lots of excitement and rare items. Given that she'd had quite a bit of excitement already, Twilight was looking forward to the second part of the phrase. And while it might not be the costume that would prove Princess Celestia's superhero status once and for all, the armor still counted as rare. Judging by the size, it was too big for most ponies and would look funny on anypony but the princess. She had never seen anything like it, and even as she searched every last shadow, Twilight couldn't help but wonder why it had been abandoned in a place like this.

After convincing herself that there was no other place for monsters to hide in, Twilight approached the armor. Closer inspection revealed intricate engravings that had been carved into the surface, patterns and symbols she could only identify as being elegant, but taken as a whole were obviously meant to convey something more.

“Pretty,” she breathed, wondering what the armor did. Maybe she'd been mistaken, and this was Princess Celestia’s super-suit. Which meant that it would have secret compartments for all manner of things. Like... like grappling hooks, or smoke bombs, or even lasers!

Wait... no. The princess can fly, and she can conjure blasts from her horn, too, she thought. So a super-suit was out of the question. Still, the engravings were nice to look at. I wonder if it’s one of those sizably different armors...

She went for another round of searching for traps. If the armor somehow didn’t belong to the princess, then there was still a good chance that it was booby-trapped. Ancient civilizations were always using traps to keep away tomb raiders long before the first supervillain was born, after all. Or maybe those were just traps left behind by ancient supervillains? She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. If there were any traps, it didn’t really matter who had left them there.

For the second time, she failed to find any traps, which strangely felt like a disappointment. She groused around for a few seconds, blowing strands of her unruly mane out of her face before turning back to the armor. If there were no traps, she might as well put it on the ground and take a closer look at it, mightn't she?

She had to let the Night-light spell fade; casting one spell at a time was difficult enough, and she couldn’t imagine handling more than that. A few seconds in the dark shouldn’t hurt, however; even the creepiest monsters couldn’t move that fast, and she would have relit her horn in a few seconds. She reached out with her magic and touched the armor, only realising her mistake when it was already too late.

The engravings on the armor lit up in a mesmerizing display of colors of the red spectrum, giving it a frightful, almost angry appearance. Twilight involuntarily took a step back before she felt weighed down by some unseen force. An unbelievably loud gong rang through her head, obliterating any thoughts and breaking her concentration. She clamped her hooves over her ears in an attempt to mute it, but the noise only swelled in volume. It was so loud that she was afraid the entire castle was shaking on its foundations, and would come down on top of her. The gong seemed to permeate every fiber of her being, making her lose her balance, turning her legs into jello. Had she been capable of it, she would have been glad she had skipped breakfast, because the knots forming in her stomach wouldn't have allowed any food in them, and lastly, it felt as though the sound would split her horn in two.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound died down, and Twilight let out a grateful sigh. Everything, from her eyes to her tail relaxed, slowly unfolding from the fetal position she had curled up in. She let out a little laugh at the blessed silence, closed her eyes, and knew no more.

When Twilight woke up hours later, the first thing she felt was fear. Everything from her toes to her teeth hurt like she had been galloping for days, and, more worryingly, she couldn’t see. With a pained groan she sat upright, trying to figure out what time it was. Her growling stomach made it clear that she had at least missed more than one meal. Memories of what had happened filtered back into her mind; finding the secret passage, inspecting the armor... After a few moments, she tested her horn against the Night-light spell; it made the headache return, but she didn't have much of a problem sustaining the spell otherwise.

"Okay, so you don't like magic," she said, turning to the armor, which hadn't moved an inch despite her attempts. "You didn't have to be a meany about it."

The armor did not respond. It simply sat there, the engravings now aglow with a silent white color. It was as though the armor was silently mocking her.

Twilight glared at the thing, drowning her fear in anger. "Fine! You're stupid, and ugly, and too big for me anyway." She huffed and walked away from it, not touching the sword for fear of having to live through that awful noise again. Exploring was turning out to be a lot less fun than her books made it seem. She spent a few minutes looking over the rest of the room, but aside from the golden armor, nothing really caught her interest.

Going back the way she’d come in wasn't an option, as there appeared to be no way to open the secret passage from the inside. At least, not as far as Twilight could see, which meant that the only way to go was forward. The smell coming from beyond the door was even more dank than that in the armory, and Twilight gagged several times while hurrying through the corridor that lay beyond.

Unlike the not-so-secret hallways, the corridors were tightly packed to the point of being a little claustrophobic. Rotten wood and metal braziers suggested that they were lit by torches in a far flung past, but the knowledge was of little use to Twilight. They were barely tall enough for the princess to pass through, and even then her horn would likely still be scraping the ceiling. Their only other defining feature was that there were a great many of them. Stairs going down, stairs going up, a multitude of cross-sections which Twilight followed at random... It was a maze, and it was only after a good half hour of walking that Twilight realised that she was well and truly lost.

As ever when she had nothing to focus on, her mind had wandered, and when she came to another T-junction, she sat down unconcerned with the cloud of dust she sent whirling through the halls. She wondered what Daring Do would do in a situation like this, and when she came up empty, she wondered how the princess would handle it. The answer was simple: the princess knew everything, and would simply walk towards the exit so she could get something to eat. But I don't... Twilight thought when her stomach growled for the umptheenth time. She tried her best to keep her worries at a distance, but at the same time couldn't deny the creeping jitters that came with being alone and lost.

Her left ear perked up and her attention followed soon after. Voices? She followed the soft murmuring that drifted in from the corridor to her left and, after cantering up two sets of stairs, finally saw a light that didn't come from her own horn. Her little legs carried her faster without prompting; she'd finally found a way out!

The voices became louder and more pronounced as she ran, and Twilight was ready to believe that she was out of the proverbial woods. Right up to the moment she ran into the ceiling with her horn, stopping her dead in her tracks. "Owww." She rubbed her horn with her hoof while looking at the path in front of her. The corridor tapered off to a point, culminating in a small opening that was about the size of her encyclopedia.

“Therefore, princess, I believe it is of utmost importance that we do something about the—”

Twilight's ears swiveled forward. The princess is there! She scrambled forward, forgetting the pain of her horn. All she had to do was get through the opening, which, unfortunately, wasn't as easy as it sounded. She could get stuck if she wasn't careful. Nevertheless, Twilight lowered herself onto her belly and shimmied forward lowering her head to avoid hurting her horn again.

It was a slow and exhausting way of moving, and when she tilted her head a little to see how far she'd gotten, the opening was still some ways off.

“Stupid secret passage,” she grumbled under her breath while lowering her head again. It took another few minutes to get to the smallest part, during which she was could listen to the goings on beyond the opening. She didn't understand most of what was being said, but it was better than listening to her own laboured breathing.

The crux of her little escape plan went well; she made it through the opening and out into the light just fine, but what she hadn't taken into account was just where she'd end up once she had.

She found herself on the main support beam, spanning the length of a big hall. Relatively speaking, the beam was massive, but that still only barely gave her enough space to walk with maybe an inch of slack on either side. Looking down, she could see the massive halls of the throne room, filled to capacity, even now. The murmurings of the crowd were too indistinct to make out, but the apparently long explanation of the mare she had heard earlier continued unabated.

“—which proves that it is vital that our traders can count on a modicum of protection while venturing beyond—”

Now all I have to do is get the princess to notice me. Then they'll get me down from here... she thought to herself, a small smile forming at the idea of eating more of Mead's delicious cooking. First, however, she needed some way to attract the princess’ attention. But how?

First, she needed to know where the princess was, and with that in mind, she leaned forward to get a better view of the room below.

The day was proving to be a long one for Princess Celestia, a title she'd heard bandied around far too much, along with the irritating ‘Your Majesty’ and the dreaded ‘Your Highness’. The former made her feel old, the latter made her feel bad. She had always held that leaders were ponies that were no different from others save for the amount of responsibility they took on; even if she couldn't argue that she was the same as other ponies for a variety of reasons.

Court had started early. Aegis had knocked on the door to Twilight's room well before dawn, informing her that there were documents to be read and supplication forms to be reviewed. The intention to wake Twilight up at a more reasonable hour had stayed with her throughout court itself, but she simply hadn't found the time to do anything of the sort. Added to her frustrations was the fact that Sunny had apparently decided that longer court hours meant that more ponies would get the answers or help that they needed, and had unilaterally amended the court hours to run much longer than it ever had before.

No wonder she was overworked. Celestia thought with an outwardly gentle smile. Perhaps I should find her some more help. The mare had all the makings of a great leader; concerned with the wellbeing of others, always willing to take on more work if there was a need, and generally seeing the best in ponies. On the flipside, Sunny tended to her work with an almost zealous devotion that wasn't always in her own best interests, and, despite her many years of service, was still overestimating her own abilities.

“Your Majesty, trading has always been the lifeblood of our economy, and I shudder to think what might happen if our traders decide to—”

Celestia sighed softly. For the last two hours, the noblemare in front of her had been talking—nay, holding verbal essays—about trade, trading, traders, and every other variation thereof. Celestia had tried to get her to wrap up her story several times, but each and every time, a new topic seemingly crawled out of the woodwork. The mare was ostensibly trying to prove that she was more committed than the council had been, and had almost convinced Celestia that firing them had been a bad idea.

Many ponies in the crowd were starting to become restless, and while Celestia was duty bound to look interested, or at the very least attentive to the words coming out of the mare’s mouth, that didn’t mean that she actually had to be either of those things. A difficult task, but with patience and practice, she had found that she could make ponies believe most anything. And so she sat on her throne, a smile on her face, and adding in a nod every now and again for authenticity, while she let her attention wander.

It made a sweep through the room, almost absently trying to find somepony to do what she hadn’t been able to. After that, her thoughts turned to Twilight. As a rough estimate, she suspected that the filly was smarter than two thirds of the ponies present combined, maybe more if she counted the monologuing mare. A big part of her would much rather be talking with the inquisitive young filly, or any decently intelligent foal for that matter.

On some level, it was distressing to realise that the cost of success in her plans for Equestria as nation had taken the form of dependence. Almost everypony with her in the throne room sought her guidance, and while that had been the initial reason for the day-court's creation, she hadn't ever thought she would be reaffirming what should have been common sense.

It was even more distressing to realise that she had been content to play along for the better part of a millenium. The reason why she had was not far behind, and for a moment she again felt the sting of betrayal. For a moment, the mask of feigned interest slipped, and the deeply pained mare underneath the wise and kind princess was put on display for all to see.

She was spared having to explain herself when a shrill shriek pierced the ambience that ponies in large groups usually provided. Celestia was jerked out of her melancholy and looked around for the source of the scream. It didn't take her more than a second to locate a purple filly who was hanging from a ledge in a precarious manner while screaming her head off.

Celestia moved without thinking. One second she was sitting on her throne thinking about the mistakes of the past; the next, there was a small crater in the dias. She passed the two pegasi who'd had the presence of mind to try and help the filly a moment later and arrived just before Twilight lost her grip.

Twilight's frightened scream was cut short when, instead of falling to her doom, she landed on Celestia's back, which was definitely softer and less deadly than the ground would have been. Celestia could feel the flailing of the deathly afraid filly on her back, and jerked to the left when Twilight grabbed one of her wing-joints, restricting movement and refusing to let go.

“Twilight, let go.”

A frantic shaking of the head and an even more frantic pulling on her wing, was all the response she got. Twilight held on for dear life, which was exactly what was at stake if she didn't let go.

“Twilight!”

“But—”

“Let go!” Celestia thundered, struggling to keep herself aloft without throwing Twilight off.

For a fraction of a second, Celestia had to contend with a pair of tear-filled eyes, and a filly that shook softly before Twilight let go and buried her face in Celestia’s coat while trying to hold on as best she could. It wasn’t enough, and she would have fallen had Celestia not kept her in place with her magic.

Once she had the use of both her wings back, it was easy. She straightened out her flight path, banking away from the wall they’d been heading towards, and gently made her way back to the dias. Their descent was perhaps not as swift as it could have been, but she wanted to make the experience as comforting as possible for her student, lest she denounce flying as well. It took a minute or two, but eventually she landed in the indentation on the dias, her head swimming with questions.

What did she do all day? Why didn't I give her something to do? How did she even get up there? She wanted to sit Twilight down and demand the filly explain herself until her curiosity was satisfied, but that would sadly have to wait a while.

Celestia turned to face an unnaturally silent throne room, filled with ponies who were a hair's breadth away from becoming a tumultuous mob and let out a soft sigh. You cannot just cancel court on a whim, Princess, a mental image of Sunny Scrolls told her. So many ponies will be disappointed, not to mention the outrage! A quick look over her shoulder to determine the state Twilight was in confirmed the worst. The filly looked like a mess, covered in dust and grime, and trying to keep her crying quiet so as not to disturb the tenuous peace that hung over the room.

She’ll have to wait. It felt harsh and uncaring, and perhaps it was, but she couldn’t simply disappoint dozens, if not hundreds of ponies for the sake of just one filly, student though she may be. She almost subconsciously hiked up her wings a little, draping them around the crying filly before clearing her throat to infuse it with a hint of magic.

“Court is hereby canceled.”

The courtroom exploded into a mess of ponies screaming at, and over, one another, and Celestia had to resist the urge to smack herself. Surprising herself was a new one and, unfortunately, would likely have some unpleasant consequences for both herself and Twilight. Had she really learned nothing about how crowds reacted to unexpected events in the last centuries? More to the point, why would she throw away a relatively stable court proceeding after a single incident that had been easily resolved?

Because Twilight is frightened and her parents trusted you to take care of her. Because you’re dying to know where she’s been. Or perhaps because you’re ashamed that you nearly lost her, and that you didn’t have anypony keeping an eye on her to prevent exactly this sort of thing. Her mind supplied helpfully.

“But Princess!” Aegis began, “Duchess Blueblood—”

“—Can wait until I make sure the filly entrusted to my care is alright,” Celestia interrupted him. Going back on her decision now would only cause more problems; moving forward was the only viable option. She stepped down from the dias and made her way towards the side exit, leaving the guards to deal with the crowd. It wasn't a great idea, but the more she thought about it, the more she managed to convince herself that it was the right one.

Aegis closed his mouth and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, taking his place in front of her and keeping ponies from getting in the way.

“I’m s-sorry, P-P-Princess,” Twilight blubbered, making herself as small as possible. It left her ears in her neck and reduced her to a small purple spot on the white expanse that was the princess' back. “I didn…” She hiccuped. “I didn't mean to... I was just—”

“It doesn't matter what you were doing, Twilight,” Celestia replied sternly, almost angrily. “You need to be more careful.”

After leaving the throne room, the princess’ purposeful strides saw them to her chambers in no time at all. For Twilight, however, it felt like an eternity; an eternity of doubt, fear of what the princess might say, and worry that she had interrupted something important back in the court room. After all, the princess wouldn't do things if they weren't important, would she?

That much was immutable fact. And with the way the princess’ neck muscles pulled taut with every step she took, the half-annoyed, half-piercing gaze she wore, and her tone of voice, everything pointed to that being the case. It didn't matter that Twilight hadn't meant to fall or that it had been the only way out of the secret corridors. All that mattered was that she had screwed up everything. Again.

“Aegis. Rook,” the princess told her guards when they arrived at the door, “please make sure nopony disturbs us. Twilight Sparkle and I need to have a good long talk.”

“Not even Miss—?” Aegis promptly shut his mouth when the princess looked at him. At least, Twilight thought it was Aegis; it was hard to make out details through the tears that obstinately refused to leave her alone. “Yes, Your Majesty.” The vague shapes that represented the guards saluted and took up positions next to the door, ready to ward anyone from entering the princess' chambers.

After the doors had closed behind them, Princess Celestia made a beeline for the bathroom. Once there, she reached around, picked Twilight up by the scruff of her neck, and unceremoniously dropped her into the warm water. Being engulfed by the water felt nice. It felt warm, safe, quiet, maybe even a little comforting. Twilight briefly debated staying right there, scared of how angry the princess had been. It seemed like a good idea, until a lack of oxygen soured the prospect.

By the time she broke the water’s surface, sputtering and gulping air by the lungful, the only sights that greeted her were the many-tiered waterfall that supplied the warm water to the bath; the luxurious towels and carpet that made the floor a delight to simply walk on; the collection of shampoos and conditioners, which she knew did not contain wavy-rainbow shampoo; And surprisingly: an empty doorway. It was almost tranquil, the only sounds in the bathroom being the water that flowed from pool to pool, before finally joining the main body in the marble indentation in the floor that served as a bath, and her own breathing. If she listened closely she could make out a conversation taking place behind the door, too garbled to understand but nevertheless present.

At least the princess isn't going to be angry with me right now, Twilight thought with a major sense of relief. The tranquil nature, and the smell of fresh chamomiles— that she had read somewhere were supposed to help calm the nerves— helped greatly. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that she wouldn’t have to face an angry princess again. She probably had something more important. For the first time, Twilight welcomed the distraction.

No sooner had she finished the thought before Celestia stepped back into the room. “Feeling a little cleaner, Twilight?” she asked, walking forward and taking a seat at the edge of the bath.

Twilight was taken aback by her teacher’s sudden appearance, having convinced the herself that the princess had moved on to other things. It was spooky how perfectly timed the entry had been, and for a brief moment, she worried that one of the princesses powers might include mindreading. “Y-yeah.”

If she did possess any such powers, the princess gave no indication of actually having read her mind, which was at least somewhat reassuring. “You gave me quite the scare, you know,” she said, walking over to the edge of the tub and parking her royal behind near the water’s edge. “I’ll likely be hearing about this for some time to come.”

“Princess, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” Celestia interrupted her softly. “Few ponies ever really mean to put themselves and others in dangerous situations.” She let out a deep sigh and shook her head. “I should have been there, or at the very least appointed a guard. But what’s important is that nopony got hurt. We can discuss what on earth you were doing up there once we’ve had a chance to calm down.”

Twilight’s ears splayed without her even having to tell them. “Yes, Princess,” she replied, inwardly wilting. Not only had she put herself and other ponies in danger without even knowing it, she had made things more difficult for the princess. Nuisance... a tiny voice whispered. You’ve made the princess so upset that she needs time to calm down, what kind of a student does that? Twilight shook her her head. She didn’t want to listen to herself anymore. “Princess?” she asked instead, just before the princess left the bathroom.

The princess halted in the doorway and looked at Twilight over her shoulder. “Yes, Twilight?”

She sounded as gentle as she usually did, but Twilight knew that it had to be a facade. Or was it a ruse? Twilight shook her head again. She’d have to look that up in the dictionary sometime.“I’m sorry.”

The princess smiled weakly and said, “As am I, Twilight. ”

Twilight spent almost an hour in the bath, alternating between listlessly splashing around and half-heartedly trying to recreate the water orb the princess had used in their water fight. Even though it had only happened the previous day, it felt like it had happened a long time ago, and so did the feelings that had come with it. Eventually, however, the water began to make her feel itchy, and staying in the bathroom with nothing to do made her feel restless. She walked out of the bath and toweled herself off before taking a deep breath and stepping back into the princess’ room.

She didn’t have to look far to find her mentor. The princess had seated herself on the rug near the fireplace and was holding a cup of what Twilight assumed to be tea in her magic while staring into the fire. Maybe I should just go, she reasoned with herself. She’s always busy, so maybe she’ll forget all about it.

Silently getting to the other side of the room was a challenge, but several years of sneaking downstairs to retrieve the books her parents took from her when they sent her to bed had prepared her for worse. She tiptoed slowly, glancing back at the princess every now and then to see if she’d been discovered, before taking another few steps.

Fifty-seven steps saw her to a quarter of the room, and that same amount again got her to the bed, minus one or two to avoid bumping into it.

“Twilight,” the princess said. “Where are you going?”

Twilight cringed, halting mid step. She gulped silently and turned around to face the princess. The princess hadn’t moved an inch.

“N-nowhere, Princess,” she lied, trying to inject some cheer into her voice.

Even from where she was standing she could hear the princess sigh. “Come sit with me, Twilight. I had Aegis fetch you dinner. You can eat while we talk.”

The mention of food made Twilight remember just how hungry she had been before her unfortunate run in with gravity. She gave up on caution and cantered towards the princess, the prospect of eating making her legs move just a little faster while idly wondering how the princess had known that she was even there. All of her pondering was relegated to the back of her mind when she saw the extensive spread laid out on a trio of silver platters, and though her mother would have been horrified with her lack of etiquette, she grabbed the first few pieces of fruit from the plates with little more than a sideward glance.

All of her expectations about the conversation were strained to the limit when the princess remained quiet while she ate. She had thought her mentor would want answers from her as quickly as possible so she could return to the no doubt important ponies waiting for her back at court.

Yet, the princess did no such thing, or much of anything at all for that matter. She seemed lost in thought, staring into her teacup with a mostly neutral expression that bordered on sadness. It made Twilight want to hug her again. Only the fear of being rebuffed withheld her. She instead tried a smile, summoning the cheeriest smile she could find and sending it to the princess.

The princess didn’t even notice.

Then an errant thought made Twilight come to an understanding that sent shivers of fear down her spine. What if the princess is angry, and disappointed but she doesn’t want to show it because she thinks I’m still a young filly? That could mean that the princess looked sad because she had expected better from Twilight, or maybe even that she was going to be sent home because she’d endangered other ponies!

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock, a piece of pineapple coming to a hover halfway between the plate and her mouth. It showed the princess’ earlier words in a whole new light.

When she had said: ’This was my fault, I should have been there, or at the very least appointed a guard.’ The princess could very well have meant that she didn’t trust Twilight to be by herself; or perhaps that she did, but no longer could since it had lead to trouble. Maybe it had been a test, to see if Twilight could spend a day by herself without causing problems? Looking back at the days behind her, she came to the disheartening realisation that there had always been trouble in some form or another, and that she had been the cause of most of it.

‘What’s important is that nopony got hurt’ turned from being a placating reassurance that everything was okay, into an accusation; a crystal clear example of what her clumsiness could have caused; and ‘You gave me quite the scare, you know’ wasn’t the princess being worried about Twilight’s well being; it was simply an expression of disappointment. If she hadn’t gone into the secret tunnels, she wouldn’t have found the overlook, and she wouldn’t have betrayed the princess’ trust by falling.

Realising that her mouth was hanging wide open, Twilight closed it slowly and licked her lips. Her throat felt like it had dried up and she put the piece of pineapple back on the plate. Suddenly, she wasn’t all that hungry anymore.

"Had enough?" came the princess' idly posed question.

Twilight swallowed a few times, lubricating her throat for a reply. She was sure that she could have emptied the plates if given the chance, but she was also sure that she wasn't going to be able to swallow another bite. "Y-yes, Princess. I think so."

The princess nodded, finally looking up from her as yet undisturbed beverage. "We'll leave how you got up on the throne room rafters for later. First I wanted to ask if you've slept well."

An immediate and emphatic ‘No!’ was the first response that came to Twilight's mind, followed by an extensive explanation of why it was horrible. Most of the details of her dream had faded from memory, but she very clearly remembered a disappointed princess, who turned into a wendigo. She suppressed her the reaction; the princess was already disappointed in her, and she didn't want to add to it by admitting that she couldn't even sleep right.

So she pretended to think for a moment, rubbing her head with a hoof. "Uhm... I think so, Princess."

The princess smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up." She let the smile slip and sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, there are still some obligations—duties... that I cannot simply ignore."

Twilight heard the words, but in the time it took for them to travel from her ears to her mind, they were twisted into: ‘You're not important to me at all, other things come first.’ She bit the inside of her cheek. Grown up ponies didn’t usually show their emotions, and she was a grownup pony. No matter what the princess had said, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t let it get to her. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me... right? But the princess’ words did hurt; and she wasn’t done yet.

“I disliked you from the moment we met,” the princess continued with a soft smile. “There was something about you that I knew I was dangerous, but if that hadn’t been the case, I wouldn’t ever have thought of taking you in, and I can see now that it was a mistake.” Twilight went from biting her cheek to biting her lip. It was worse than she had thought it would be. Much, much worse. “Now, while I understand that you’re still a filly, I am a busy princess, and I simply do not have time to indulge your silly antics any longer.” The princess scooted over and draped a wing over Twilight’s back, which, rather than soft, warm and fluffy, felt oppressive and heavy. Twilight wanted to get out. She wanted to get away from the princess, and possibly the room. “Getting as close to me as you did was inappropriate and shouldn’t have happened at all,” the princess continued, squeezing Twilight with her wing. “—and I hereby forbid you from approaching me anywhere when it seems I am in a conversation. I don’t have the time. In fact, I wholly intend not to let this impact my schedule in any way.”

Celestia was feeling good about herself. After almost an hour of indecision, she had finally settled on the right words to use, and she was quite pleased with them. Talking to a filly, even one as young as Twilight turned out to be as easy as talking to an adult if one knew what they wanted to say. “In essence,” she concluded, “I wanted to apologise for the way in which I’ve neglected to be a teacher like I said I would, and I’ve already talked to my aides to make changes to my schedule.”

The expected response—a filly ecstatic about spending more time with her teacher—remained absent, and in its stead she heard a soft sniffing. After looking around the room to assure herself that she and Twilight were still the only ones in it, Celestia lifted her wing to find a crying Twilight. Alarmed and concerned, she lifted the filly in her magic and inspected her for any sign of physical harm. Had she somehow missed every indication that her student had been hurt? “Twilight, what’s wrong?”

“I… I...” Twilight blubbered before her crying graduated into full on wailing.

Celestia did not panic easily; she’d made too many split second and life-altering decisions for that. Nevertheless, having a crying filly and no idea how to get her to stop made Celestia admit that she would need some help. She put Twilight down and awkwardly patted her on the head. “Wait right here, Twilight. I’ll have one of the guards fetch Mead... or maybe First Steps... and we’ll figure out what the matter is.” She rose to her hooves, only to feel the strain on her wing. Twilight was clinging to it desperately, having buried her face in the plumage and quickly soaking it. Any understanding she thought she’d had, had been washed away by Twilight’s tears, and there was no feeling that was more upsetting to Celestia herself than feeling unsure. Not wishing to upset Twilight further, she sat back down. Perhaps she could figure out a way to call the guards from here...

Three hours later, Celestia finally had her rest returned to her. Three solid hours of trying to comfort Twilight without knowing exactly what the problem was, and failing each and every time. The only things she had managed to get out of the filly were some half-formed apologies, and after letting herself be used as an oversized security blanket for Twilight to cry into, the filly had finally fallen asleep. She set the sun in an unfocused haze before cautiously extracting herself from Twilight’s embrace. Hours of feeling lost and unable to help had left her more drained than she would care to admit, and she desperately wanted to get rid of the hopeless feeling that came with it.

She looked down at Twilight with no small hint of exasperation. The filly had cried herself to exhaustion and beyond, and even in now, appeared restless. Her face scrunched up intermittently and even in her sleep she was still mumbling apologies. Celestia picked Twilight up by the scruff of her neck, making her way over to the bed and depositing her precious cargo onto the sheets before wiping away the remaining tears with a hoof before making for the door.

Before giving in to any form of exhaustion, Celestia was determined to find somepony that could tell her what, and more importantly, why Twilight had burst into tears. “Rook, stand guard on the inside and bring my student to me should she wake up,” she intoned after opening the doors with enough force to cause an echo throughout the halls.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Having received no contradictory orders, it was only natural that Aegis would fall in step a few paces behind her. Similarly, Aegis’ actions normally didn’t have any bearing on her destination or mood, and yet having him follow her at that particular point in time, annoyed Celestia immensely. “Aegis, stay with your partner,” she called back over her shoulder, setting off towards the kitchens without waiting for any sort of reply.

After walking down four corridors and rounding three corners, however, she could still feel somepony behind her.

“Aegis!” she growled, turning around to make her displeasure known to her disobedient guard. “I thought I told you to—”

She came glare to uneasy smile with the one mare she was in no mood to argue with.

“Princess,” Duchess Blueblood said, managing to make a curtsey seem disrespectful while the smile on her face only served to make Celestia’s blood boil.

The strained smile that Celestia managed to put on her face was polite at best. “Duchess.” She turned back around and picked up the pace, half hoping to lose the mare before any sort of conversation could take place. Of course, only foals and the so called 'nobility' thought that any such a tactic would actually yield results; and indeed, Celestia hadn't even gone four paces before the Duchess spoke up once more.

“Frustrating problems, Princess?” Had the Duchess been privy to Celestia's gnashing of her teeth, she would probably have fled with her tail between her legs. As it stood, the mare simply smiled at Celestia, albeit a little stiffly. “I heard about the trouble in court."

"Your point?" Celestia asked testily.

"Well...” The duchess made a hopeless gesture with a hoof. “I would just like to point out that such things happen because of a lack of commitment.”

Celestia forced herself to a halt, resisting the urge to physically assault the mare. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not trying to imply anything, Princess,” Blueblood continued innocently. “I just thought you should be aware of how much of a stir the sudden cancellation of court caused among the assembled ponies. Many of them were enraged, and some even broke down in tears because the request they had been waiting to get an answer on was simply ignored.”

A deep sigh preceded Celestia’s next words. “Unforeseen problems are unavoidable, and this one took precedence.”

“But that is exactly the problem, princess! You let that filly run around unsupervised and she ruined several hours of court with her antics. Many ponies rely on you as a beacon of stability, and if you cannot serve in that capacity then—”

Celestia growled softly. “Be very careful with your next words, Duchess.”

Duchess Blueblood took a step back and bowed, somehow managing to twist what should be a show of respect into an insult. “What I am trying to say, princess... is that all of your recent problems stem from taking care of that filly. And, no offense intended, but you seem to be having a hard time actually taking care of her. Is it really in the country’s, or the filly’s—

“—Her name is Twilight.”

“Twilight then. Is it in her best interest that you continue to do something you are so obviously ill equipped for?”

Exhausted as she was, Celestia had to admit to herself that there was truth to the Duchess’ words. After all, the ponies in court deserved to have their questions and requests answered, and it wasn’t like there was much she accomplished with Twilight. All she was really doing was stacking failures upon one another.

Duchess Blueblood wasn’t finished yet however. “—hat know ponies. Acquaintances that would be able to devote their full attention to her care. That in turn would leave you free to tutor my son, as he does not require nearly as much supervision as that snotnosed little run—”

The other horse-shoe dropped, and showed Bluebloods arguments for what they really were. True or not, she wasn’t going to give up simply because things were difficult. “Blueblood, I will not go back on my promise to either Twilight or her parents. You can stop wasting your breath,” Celestia said coldly.

A disgusted scowl sat on the Duchess’ face for a fraction of a second before she masked it with a grimace and after that an insincere smile. “In that case, I would like to inquire if you have given any thought to the duel. Unlike you and your student, I want my son to have the best possible chance of success.”

“I have not made any decisions regarding the duel,” Celestia replied. “If and when I make a decision, you will be the first to know.” When the Duchess did not respond immediately, Celestia stepped around her and continued towards her original destination: Mead’s kitchens. Walking away from the Duchess—or any noble for that matter— was tantamount to a political slap in the face. Some would call it political suicide, but at this point Celestia was beyond caring.

Hurried hoof falls trailed behind her and before she could pass through the doors that lead to the main hallway, the Duchess hurtled to a halt and barred her way. “Princess!” The mare yelled indignantly, red in the face from either anger, embarrassment, or exhaustion—Celestia couldn’t really tell which. “You cannot simply walk away from me! I am an important mare here in Canterlot with a lot of important friends in high places. I demand—”

“Demand?” Celestia interrupted her once more. She lowered her neck so she could look the mare straight in the eyes. Exposure to Twilight’s prolonged sadness had already lowered the bar on her patience, and now she had reached her limit. She could feel it. The tightness in her chest that she had only become aware of after Twilight had finally fallen asleep had snapped, pushed beyond its limits by the words of the Duchess. From the corner of her eyes she could see the soft pastels of her mane warm up until they represented the reds and oranges of the dawn, and her surroundings crackled with the latent energies that escaped her.

The effect was immediate and undeniable, turning the Duchess from a strong defiant mare into a shivering foal. “Y-y-yes. I D-d-d-demand that...”

“Blueblood. You speak to your sovereign ruler. There is nothing that I cannot do,” Celestia said coolly, even if her temper was anything but. “Furthermore, filly, I have been around since long before you were born, and I will continue to be long after you and yours have turned to dust.” Seeing Blueblood’s legs shake gave her some satisfaction and peace. It was enough, for now. Celestia calmed and righted herself before nodding to the side with her head. “I have more important things to do, so kindly get out of my way.” It took the duchess a moment to get her legs to cooperate, but once they did she moved to the side hastily, granting Celestia passage.

Celestia passed the mare without another word. She needed a stiff drink.

Clarity

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“Mead. I need a drink.”

Honey Mead looked up from his stove with two eyebrows raised. It wasn’t the request being made of him; the kitchens of the castle never really closed, just as there were ponies milling about at all hours of the day. It wasn’t the sentence itself that surprised him; guards and staff alike came into his kitchens asking for the same thing. It wasn’t even that it had come during his personal time, during which the staff knew not to disturb him. No, what surprised Mead was that he found the princess herself when he looked up. She had taken a seat at the small relaxation table the cooks used when they took a break and looked at him from behind a mask of impassivity.

She looked tired and tense; nothing new in the grand scheme of things, but going by her request, he suspected that there was more to it than that.

He shook his head and turned down the heat on the stove he’d been using for one of his experiments and walked over to the table. “Normally, I would tell you to go find a bar—” he said with a smile. The princess’ mask broke and she glared at him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. “—but I guess I can make an exception this time.”

Though the kitchens themselves were already lower than the ground floor on which the castle had been built, another spiraling staircase lead down to the wine cellar which was as cold and damp as any rarely visited area. It was a veritable labyrinth of seemingly randomly positioned aging barrels and wine racks, to the point where Mead always wondered who had been responsible for their creation. He knew the area like he did his own hooves and had little difficulty locating a particularly strong batch of vodka. It was one of only a few bottles he had received from a friend in Stalliongrad, and while he himself found the stuff to be too potent, it was one of the few beverages of which he was fairly certain would actually do anything for the princess.

While the vodka was easy to find, a shot glass turned out to be the more rare commodity. Likely because all of them were in use by the apprentice cooks who were on a break. Mead eventually found one tucked away in a storage cupboard, but by the time he got back to the table, the bottle was already half empty, and Celestia showed no signs of stopping.

She smacked her lips when there was no more vodka to be had and grimaced at the bottle. “Bleh, this is terrible,” she said before setting it down with a sigh. “Whoever came up with that had no appreciation for taste.” Her head came to rest on the table and she listlessly stared out over the kitchens. “Mead?”

Shaking off his amazement, Mead pulled up a chair and sat down opposite his ruler. He’d dealt with drunken ponies before, and from experience, he knew that the only thing most drunk ponies needed was camaraderie. Be it a target to vent their frustrations, a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to make merry with, he had seen it all; he had never seen a drunken alicorn, however. “Princess?”

“Why is it that every decision I make seems to be the wrong one?”

Though the princess’ tone of voice was near enough perfectly neutral, Mead had known her long enough that he could pick out the small strains in her inflection. Princess Celestia was an emotional drunk. “Well, if you ask me, it’s because you stretch yourself too thin.” An eyebrow went up and Celestia’s gaze shifted to him. He answered with a short laugh. “Even an alicorn like yourself has limits. There’s only so much time in the day. If you try ’nd do everything by yourself, there’s always gonna be things that go wrong.”

“If it were just a few mistakes, I’d agree,” Celestia replied, closing her eyes with a sigh. “But it seems that ever since I decided to take on Twilight Sparkle as my student, things have been going from bad to worse.”

With a smirk, Mead leaned forward and asked, “Do you think she’s a spy? She’s small, intelligent, cute enough that nopony would think twice... It’d be the perfect cover.”

The princess snorted. “Oh yes, thirty-seven centuries of rule decimated by a nine-year old. The tabloids are going to have a field day.” The smile that had appeared on her face didn’t last long and she let out another sigh. “No, it just feels like mistakes of the past are catching up with me.”

Mead shrugged. “Nothing to be done about that but damage control, Princess.”

Celestia nodded noncommittally.

“Want me to get you something to eat?” Mead asked, motioning towards the stove where his latest culinary experiments were bubbling away softly. “Maybe another bottle of vodka?”

With—for a drunken pony—surprising clarity, Celestia sat up and shook her head. “No, I should...” She let out yet another sigh. “I should be out finding answers.”

“Anything I can help with?” Mead asked helpfully. He wondered if he had been mistaken about the princess’ sobriety when Celestia fixed him with an intense, yet thoughtful, gaze. Did alcohol even affect the princess?

“How old is Sweet Pea now? Thirteen? Fourteen?”

“Thirteen, last time I checked,” Mead replied, nonplussed.

“She’s done a fair bit of crying, yes?” Celestia smiled wanly, looking down at the table. “Of course she has; that goes without saying...” She looked back up at Mead. “What in the world could possess a filly to treat a carefully prepared speech about how things are going to be better as a death sentence?” Her voice was thick with emotion which she wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Erm...” Mead scratched the back of his neck. “You’re gonna have’ta tell me a little more than that, but... you don’t make a speech to talk to kids. You just tell ‘em how you feel.”

“I did!” Celestia all but shouted, flaring her wings and waving her hooves for emphasis. “I apologized for being too busy, and told her that there were some things that couldn’t be done without my explicit orders, but that I would try to make every effort to delegate those tasks that do not require my attention directly.”

“’nd she...started crying, just like that?”

“Yes.”

Mead stroked his beard for a while, but eventually shook his head. “Sorry, Princess, I don't have a clue.”

“Sometimes, smart foals learn to read between the lines of what is being said. Combined with low self-esteem, copious stress, or fear, however, it can lead them to assign a negative connotation to whatever is said, no matter how positive the intention of the speaker.”

Both Celestia and Mead looked over to the stairs where Sunny just stepped down from the last rung. “And where did you learn all of that from, Sunny?” Celestia asked, recovering from her surprise a lot faster than Mead did.

“Psychologist,” Sunny replied, taking a seat next to Mead and glaring at Celestia. “Now, I would like to know if you meant what you said about wanting to take more time to be a teacher to your student.”

“Of course I did!” Celestia replied hotly. “I just felt that it wouldn't be—”

“Because it seems to me like you still took over court at even the slightest hint of something not going the way you wanted it to,” Sunny continued as though Celestia hadn't even opened her mouth at all.

Mead got to his hooves and made his way to his workstation, filling a pot with water and setting it on the stove to boil. If his kitchen was to become a battleground between the Princess and her close aide, the least he could do was provide something to drink, and stay out of the way.

Celestia looked at Sunny with only a hint of remorse. “Sunny, I am sorry, truly, but you must admit that the suddenness of the change rubbed many ponies the wrong way.” She gestured to her aide with a hoof. “Including yourself. It was unfair of me to expect you to immediately handle such a—”

“Enough, Princess!” Sunny slammed the table with both hooves and stood, her glare only increasing in intensity. “You 'handle' unexpected crises and problems on a daily basis, and that is in addition to all of the paperwork and bureaucratic tomfoolery that we are surrounded by. Yet, when I make plans that come with my new job to ensure that court runs smoothly, you overrule me within the first week!”

Celestia felt well and truly chastised, her wings drooping at her sides while her ears folded back. She smiled wanly when she noticed Mead's encouraging grin and shrugged. “I do not know what I can do other than offer you my apologies, Sunny,” she said, nodding gratefully when Mead held up a bag of her favorite tea blend. “I did what I did, not to undermine your new position, but because I wanted to try and save you the feeling of pure exhaustion I’ve been dealing with for so many years.”

The teal unicorn huffed and finally relented with her glaring. “What did I tell you about mothering, Princess?” she asked gruffly.

Celestia smiled. “I know, Sunny. However, it seems that I should endeavour to be more motherly if I want to take care of my student, not less.”

"I said ‘be less motherly’, not ‘ignore the poor child for the day while you preempt me from doing the job you asked me to do’." Sunny replied testily. "Leaving a child her age by herself is just asking for trouble."

“Speaking of taking care of the little miss,” Mead said, setting three cups of scalding hot tea down on the table. “I heard that she had a little problem of her own in the courtroom today. Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Celestia replied moving her own cup a little closer and taking a whiff. “A little scared, but otherwise fine.”

“Well, that, and the fact that she’s convinced herself that you are going to be disappointed with her no matter what she does,” Sunny added. “I think that all this could have been avoided if you had kept an eye on your student as planned.”

Mead shook his head. “Nah, fillies need a chance to explore every now and again. As long as you make sure that they get enough food and sleep, the rest will sort itself out.” He looked at the princess and, despite Celestia's efforts to look completely impassive, asked, “You did make sure she ate, didn't you, Princess?”

Celestia let out a deep sigh and shook her head. “It seems I have a lot to apologise for today... Sorry, Mead. My mind was on other things when I woke up and I didn’t see her again until she quite literally ‘dropped’ into my lap.” She leaned back and looked at the ceiling murmuring to herself; “Still can’t figure out how she got up there.”

“So she went without eating for an entire day?” Mead’s hoof met his face and he dragged it off with great difficulty before stalking up to Celestia and poking her in the chest with a hoof. “If you weren’t a close friend, and big as you are, I would smack you silly. Rule number one if you truly intend to take care of little Miss Twilight Sparkle: Make sure she eats.”

His entire speech felt so bizarrely out of place that Celestia half expected a curtain to close. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes and smile, but Mead’s anger was undoubtedly genuine and so she nodded and placed a hoof on Mead’s shoulder instead. “I understand. I realise it must seem strange to the both of you that there are things in which I make mistakes but—”

“Not at all, Princess,” Sunny interrupted her. “If I had gotten a bit for every mistake you would have made without me while dealing with your council, in court, and in your public speeches; I would have been able to retire after five years.”

Celestia glanced over at her head chef, only to see his previous anger replaced by a smug grin. “Do I really have’ta point out the times you didn’t eat for days?”

She sighed deeply and smiled. “You’re right. I’ve gotten so absorbed in presenting a facade of perfection to the public that I fear I’ve started to believe in my own lies.” When both Sunny and Mead opened their mouths, she held up a hoof to forstal their response. “While I genuinely wish to teach and guide Twilight Sparkle, I fear that more mistakes are inevitable.” She gave both of them a piercing look. “This is the first time in... ever, that I’ve had to guide a filly only nine—” She stopped and shook her head with a smile. “Eight years and nine months old. I would like to ask both of you to tell me if and when I do something wrong, and if at all possible, help me understand the how and the why of it.”

“My pleasure, Princess.”

“Agreed, on one condition.”

This time, Celestia did roll her eyes and focused on Sunny. “And what would that condition be?”

Sunny smiled grimly and said, “No more court unless I explicitly ask for your assistance.”

Celestia laughed. “And here I was thinking you were going to tell me that keeping Twilight out of trouble would be your condition.”

Sunny shook her head with a smile that turned friendlier by the second. “I’ve had an eight-year-old daughter of my own, Princess. That would be asking the impossible, and I wouldn’t do that to you.”

They all laughed after that, though Celestia couldn’t help the worry that sneaked into the back of her mind. So this wasn’t the last time Twilight nearly killed herself? it wailed, making Celestia suppress a shiver. She finished the rest of her tea and inclined her head. “Thank you both for the rebuke and the advice. Now, I think I will go keep an eye on my student; and possibly get some sleep myself.”

“As should I,” Sunny said with a nod. “Court starts early tomorrow...” She took a sip from her tea, which, until then, had remained untouched and regarded the cup appreciatively. “At least... after I finish this tea.”

Mead laughed and smacked Sunny on the back, making her groan softly. “That’s the spirit.” He then turned and nodded at Celestia. “G’night, Princess.”

Celestia got up and ascended the stairs back to the Grand Dining Hall, only barely rounding the corner before Mead’s muted voice caught up with her. “Did you know that alicorns are immune to alcohol?” It was one of the few times she had ever heard Mead speak of anything with awe. She stifled a giggle and the resulting smile accompanied her all the way back to her room.

Of course, she only realised that she had forgotten something important the moment she opened the doors, and when she looked to the side of said doors for somepony to help her fix that little mistake, she realised that there were more ponies she owed an apology to. Rook and Aegis had been her personal guards for a little over three years, which, as far as their positions went, was an eternity.

After... the incident, she had—subconsciously or not—tried to do away with many things that reminded her of her sister in one way or another. While the regular castle and town guards had gotten away with having a night shift, due to fierce lobbying by her then commander of the guard; her personal guards... hadn’t. They were supposed to be with her throughout the day, eating, and even sleeping, just outside the doors of her room if she remained within them. It was a grueling job, which most ponies gave up on within a fortnight, and the ones that didn’t rarely lasted more than a year.

When she arrived at the big double doors that led to her room, Rook was asleep on his hooves. A breach of protocol in the strictest sense, but one which she assumed had allowed them to function within their capacity for as long as they had. She quelched a small ache in her chest when a memory of her reprimanding one of her personal guards for something similar not ten years before caught up with her.

“Aegis?”

The stallion snapped to salute. “Yes, Your Majesty?” he replied loudly, presumably to give his partner in anti-crime a chance to wake up before she’d noticed the indiscretion.

She sighed when Rook shook off his slumber and quickly stood at attention as well. “At ease, gentlecolts...” she watched them relax a little, silently debating how to go about what she was about to do. “In fact... you are both dismissed.”

The stallions’ postures became rigid and they gave one another a concerned look. “Are you... firing us, Your Majesty?” Aegis asked tentatively.

Celestia quickly shook her head. “No. You’re not fired, either of you. I’ve just...” she sighed again and looked from them, to the floor, and back. “I’ve just been thinking about how absolutely indispensable the two of you are to me, and I wanted to give you a break.”

It quickly became clear just how overworked either of them were when Aegis’ jaw slackened and he whispered, “A break...” as though it were an impossible dream.

“Yes, a break. Go get something to eat, talk with some of your colleagues at the bar, get a good night’s rest.”

Rook grunted. “Thanks, Princess. But no thanks.”

Celestia couldn’t believe her ears. “I thought you two of all ponies would jump at the chance to get some free time.”

“Don’t misunderstand, Princess,” Aegis continued in Rook’s stead. “We appreciate the sentiment, but our place is right here with you.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof and gave her a sheepish smile. “We haven’t slept in the barracks for so long that I doubt I’d remember where my bunk is.”

“If it’s still yours,” Rook added, stifling a yawn behind his hoof.

Aegis shot him a sideways glance and nodded before looking back at Celestia. “Right. So, thank you, Your Majesty. But we’ll stay right here if that’s okay.”

Their sentiment moved Celestia. Such dedication was something she should have suspected, but hearing them say it out loud made it tangible and wonderful. She affected a neutral look and shook her head softly. They are going to take that break, even if I have to make them. “It’s not okay, guardsman. I understand, and appreciate your dedication, but both of you have been working far too hard for my sake, and if I must, I will order you to take a break and take care of yourselves for a change.”

“Princess...” Aegis trailed off and looked at her uncomfortably.

“Princess, if I may?” Rook moved from his designated location without waiting for her reply and positioned himself next to Aegis, looking up at her with defiance. “I won’t follow that order even if you give it.”

Aegis looked to Rook, alarm written all over his face but before he could say anything, Rook continued, calmly as though he wasn’t addressing his sovereign ruler.

“You see, Princess... while we understand and appreciate your concern, we’ve been your guards for close to four years now.” In an unprecedented display of emotion, Rook actually smiled, which caught Celestia off guard as much as the rest of his speech did. “During that time, we’ve seen you push yourself harder than anypony. All for the sake of the country and ponies like us; often without sleep or a proper meal. Aegis and I are just trying to repay you for all of that, even if it’s just a little bit. So we’ll be staying right here, unless there’s something you need from us.”

Celestia looked at him disbelievingly, and then transferred that disbelief over to Aegis who hastily nodded his assent and said, “Sorry, Your Majesty, but I agree with him.”

Before, she was touched. Now, she was overwhelmed. “Thank you,” she said at length. “Both of you. And yes, there is something I want you to do for me.”

The two of them saluted, Aegis almost smacking Rook upside the head because they were so close to one another. “Anything, Your Majesty.”

Celestia smiled at them and in a saccharinely sweet voice said, “Go into my chambers before I throw you in there.”

The two looked at eachother one more time before tentatively following her orders. Celestia watched them open the door before she turned and scanned the hallway, calling out to a maid that just rounded the corner. “Could you please go to the kitchens and ask Honey Mead to prepare three full meals for myself and my guards? Oh, and an extra big pot of tea, if possible.”

The maid nodded, bowed, and hurried off to fulfil the task she had been given.

Celestia then followed her guards into the room and found them standing off to the side, looking uncertain and stealing glances over at the monstrous pile of blankets that Twilight had somehow managed to create in her sleep. She smiled at the two of them and then began levitating the pile of pillows that she kept in her room over to the wall next to the door, pointing at them when she considered them sufficiently soft enough.

“Sit, please.”

Sitting down was more of a challenge for the stallions than spending an entire day in one place was. They almost awkwardly folded their legs beneath themselves and looked up at her for further directions.

Celestia for her part smiled at them. “Now, the two of you can sit there and observe, or try to relax a little while I work, I don’t much care which. You could even sleep a little if you were so inclined.” When Aegis opened his mouth she held up a hoof to silence him. “I’ve instructed a maid to bring us some food, so while whether or not you relax is up to you, I expect the both of you to at least share a meal with me once she returns.”

Aegis made a few more fish-on-dry-land imitations before eventually settling on, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

After that was taken care of, Celestia made her way over to the bed and gently unwrapped Twilight from the blankets which she had entangled herself in. The filly’s mane was plastered to her skull and she was covered in sweat. Celestia suppressed the worry that rose in the back of her mind, and gave Twilight a soft nuzzle before making her way over to the pile of papers that held her desk. She levitated two pillows over and lit a candle which she held up with her magic while she opened the first missive she encountered.

Two hours later, after an excellent meal and some precious idle banter with her guards, Celestia was still working through the first stack of documents. It was slow going, especially since her mind kept mulling over what Sunny and Mead had told her. Tomorrow, she told herself while letting her gaze rest on the three sleeping ponies in her room. I’ll do better tomorrow.

Twilight woke up to the first rays of the sun, and immediately wished that she hadn't. The princess hated her and had made it clear that she wouldn't let Twilight mess with her schedule any more, no matter how politely she had phrased it. Life was awful. She just wanted to go home as soon as possible and cry in her father's forelegs.

The smell of fresh fruit and morning dew daisies drifted through the air and she opened her eyes to find the source, only to close them again a fraction of a second later. The princess was seated next to the bed, together with a food cart and a big pile of important-looking documents that were being scrutinized by the princess as though they had all been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

Twilight did her best impression of a sleeping pony. If she was lucky, the princess would leave soon. She has more important things to take care of, for sure, Twilight thought bitterly. That was fine with her. She didn't want to talk to the princess anyway. Her heart ached but she pushed it away; if the princess didn't want her, then she didn't want the princess either.

She forced herself to remain motionless, listening to the rustling of papers and the princess' occasional murmuring. Why wasn’t she leaving?

“Twilight, we need to talk.”

Twilight stiffened. How did she know? She knew the answer, of course; the princess knew everything. With a long suffering sigh she sat up, debating in her mind the merits of apologizing for everything ever versus throwing a tantrum and running out the door as soon as she could. Neither side gave any ground, and it was the princess who eventually settled the matter for her.

“I wanted to apologize for the speech I gave you last night.”

Twilight blinked. The princess wasn’t making any sense. Sure, she had said that she was a busy pony and didn’t have time for a little filly like Twilight, but she had been polite about it. What could she have to apologise for? It was Twilight’s fault for being too young. Maybe if she were older, she could take care of herself instead of taking up the princess’s valuable time.

“Sorry I’m not good enough, Princess,” she replied, folding her ears back and looking at the sheets.

“Twilight...” The princess sighed and lifted her head with a hoof, forcing Twilight to look at her. The princess looked tired. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had a smudge of… something on her left cheek that was just begging for Twilight to reach up and wipe it away. “Yesterday, I made the mistake of treating you like the ponies that come into court every day. Somepony to be made happy by giving them platitudes, and promises that action will be taken.”

Twilight didn’t understand what ‘platitudes’ meant, but she didn’t want to interrupt the princess, so she simply nodded.

The princess took away her hoof and smiled faintly. “I was thinking of you as a child that would be best served with empty promises, rather than the truth. But that is not what I should have done.” She sighed again and smoothed out a paper she had sat down on when she turned to face Twilight. “I should have treated you like my student.”

“But you have been!” Twilight protested, stamping on the covers with a hoof. “I’m the one who left the room. I should have stayed there until you came back, but I was hungry... I’m sorry.”

Shaking her head softly, the princess lit up her horn and pushed the food cart closer to the bed before lifting a strawberry from the plate it held and floating it over to Twilight. “Perhaps, but I was the one that should have made sure that you had everything you needed.” She looked at Twilight with that soul-penetrating gaze that made her shiver and said, “Twilight, I can’t promise you that I’ll always have time for you. But I will promise that I am going to make more time for you. I will teach you everything you need to know—” Twilight’s gaze drifted to the food cart for a split second before she refocused her attention on the princess. The strawberry had been nice, but it had only made her that much more aware of how hungry she was. The princess smiled. “—Starting with teaching you the way to the kitchens from your room, so that you can get a meal without getting lost.”

Twilight ‘s eyes again flicked to the cart, then regretfully away. “Okay, but... can we eat after that?”

The princess blinked, looked at the cart, then back at Twilight, before pressing a hoof to her face. “No, Twilight, I think you should eat first. The way to the kitchens can wait that long. Besides...” She glanced at the door. “If I took you to the kitchens, hungry as you are, I’m sure Mead would try to stage a political coup.”

Twilight hadn’t even realised that she’d scooted forward so she could get at the cart. She also hadn’t remembered that she was a unicorn and could simply levitate the food over to herself. Now, with three strawberries and at least two slices of apple in her mouth, she looked up at the princess and asked, “Whagh a cou?”

“A coup is when ponies try to overthrow their ruler because they don’t agree with the policies or rule of...” The princess trailed off, but Twilight didn’t really mind. The fruit was wonderfully sweet, but the Morning Dew Daisies were better than anything she’d ever had. Just the right mix of a soft spongy texture and a slightly tangy mellow taste.

She ate, and ate, and ate more, until all that remained on the cart was a single raspberry sitting in the middle of the plate. She picked it up with her magic and offered it to the princess with a sheepish smile.

The princess shook her head and motioned for Twilight to go ahead and eat that last morsel as well. “That’s okay, Twilight. I’ve already eaten.” Twilight continued watching her while she scarfed down the piece of fruit and then smiled. Celestia smiled back, albeit a little hesitantly. “I can’t promise that I won’t say or do anything that will hurt, Twilight. Believe it or not, there are things I have to learn as well. Will you forgive me if I make a mistake?”

Though she had seen the princess look vulnerable before, Twilight’s understanding of such things was that ‘hugs solved everything’ and if hugs didn’t solve it, then you simply weren’t using enough of them. With that in mind, and the fact that she felt overjoyed that the princess hadn’t meant anything along the lines of what Twilight had thought she meant, she decided on a tried and true tactic that’d had a one-hundred percent success rate on Shiny.

Rather than respond, she got up, walked to the other side of the bed and, with a running start, flung herself at the princess. It didn’t work out quite the way she had intended; her brother had always been bowled over through application of weight and force, him being only slightly bigger making that an easy equation to solve. The princess, however, was much bigger, and more solidly build, and Twilight found herself dangling from the princess’ neck like a shawl. She nevertheless hugged what she could get a hold of tightly, and smiled up at the princess’ head, even though she was fairly certain that the princess wouldn’t be able to see her from this angle. “Of course, Princess! And I promise that I’ll never, ever, think the worst of you again.”

Nothing happened in the first few moments, but before Twilight could start wondering if the princess had even heard her, two forelegs grasped her and pressed her against the princess’ chest, to the point where breathing became difficult. “Thank you, Twilight.” She was lifted up to the face of the princess, whose eyes were watery, but whose smile was genuine. “Then let’s both promise do the best we can.”

Twilight smiled and nodded. Her glomp-attack had been a success.

“So right, then take the second left, then right the third right from the statue, followed by four lefts…” Twilight scrunched up her nose in bewildered annoyance. “Four lefts? Wouldn't that just make me go back to where I started?”

They had been walking back and forth between her room and the Grand Dining Hall for over two hours, but she still couldn't picture the route in her head. Without the princess to keep her on the right path, she would have gotten lost a dozen times over, but even the princess seemed to lead them into a dead end every once in a while.

“Yes, but you forget to take the stairs after the second left into account.” Unlike Twilight, who was becoming more exasperated by the second, the princess seemed to be walking on air; greeting everypony they came across with a smile, and not even getting annoyed when Twilight asked her which way to go for the fourth time that minute. Rook and Aegis' faces, meanwhile, were too impassive to get a read on, though she got the impression that they were laughing at her behind her back.

Twilight frowned outright, looking up at her mentor. “Is that the second left after the right? Or the second left after the two windows?” More pieces were being added to the puzzlebox in her head and she was no longer sure which pieces fit her particular puzzle.

“The second time you go left on your journey, Twilight,” the princess all but sang with a happy twinkle in her eyes, and Twilight almost believed that the princess was enjoying her misery.

That's even more than less than unhelpful. She stopped walking, and the princess similarly came to a halt a few paces later. “I can't do this princess,” she said miserably. “I'll never be able to remember how to get to the dining hall, much less anywhere else.”

The smile the princess had been wearing throughout faded just a smidge, making it look more compassionate than happy. “Don't worry, Twilight,” she said, “it might take us a few more weeks, but a filly as smart as you will have it figured out in no time at all. Still…” The princess inclined her head and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “We've been at this for almost two hours, so perhaps it's time for something else.”

“How do you do that, Princess?”

“Do what, Twilight?”

“Tell the time.” Twilight spun around in place trying to see a timepiece anywhere near them. “There aren't even any clocks around!”

The princess smiled. “I call on my connection to the sun to feel where it is in the sky, and from there I can usually tell how much time has passed.” She opened her eyes and winked at Twilight. “And that was something I never thought I would learn.”

While she knew it was meant to comfort her, Twilight found it hard to believe that it had taken the princess years to learn... anything. An alicorn as smart as the princess was much more likely to have learned it in a couple days, maybe a week, and she was just saying that to make Twilight feel better. Still, if the princess said that she would learn in time, then perhaps it wasn't as hopeless as it seemed. “So what do we do now, Princess?”

“First, I need to make a quick stop at the courtroom to see how everything is going with Sunny, and after that, I thought we could go out to the gardens for your next lesson,” the princess replied, motioning for Twilight to follow along with a wing before setting off again. They arrived at the courtroom in no time at all, and Twilight had the sinking feeling that the princess would quickly get herself caught up in ponytics again, forgetting all about her. Before she could dejectedly walk off to try and find her way back to her room, however, the princess looked back at her and said, “Come along, Twilight. This shouldn’t take long.”

The courtroom was even more crowded than the day before, with many of the pegasi having taken to the air, which served as a second layer of ponies, all of whom were loudly voicing their opinions and questions. The going wasn't too difficult, however, as ponies cleared a path for them the moment they saw the princess, but neither was it entirely pleasant.

“There she is! The filly that fell from the rafters!”

“Are you sure it's her?!”

“Is she okay?!”

“Are you okay, little one?!”

“Did you try to assassinate the princess?!”

In an instant, the entire room went silent. All except for one scruffy-looking stallion who lifted his camera and took a picture before asking, “How do you feel about your failures thus far? Have you concocted any other plans to do away with our beloved ruler? Have you tried poison yet, or were you meant to make a statement?” Before Twilight could so much as utter a bewildered 'what?' The stallion produced a photograph from his saddlebags and held it up for everypony to see. “I have a photograph here that shows this filly after a failed attempt on the princess' life. She tried to pin our fair ruler to her chair using naught but a breakfast knife!”

Twilight didn't understand half of what the stallion was saying; she had never harmed the princess! Well, she had, but that had been an accident! “I would never do that!” she yelled, but she was drowned out by the buzz that went up all over the courtroom. Most of the ponies present immediately disregarded the idea as preposterous; some wanted to take a closer look at the photograph to see if there was any truth to the accusations, and a third group all tried to get at Twilight with violence in their eyes for her supposed part in trying to do harm to the princess.

They didn't get very far.

Within moments, Twilight's view of the ponies looking at her was obscured by a white wing and the princess' voice echoed through the halls. “Guards, seize this stallion and throw him in the dungeons for slander, gross negligence, and trespassing! As for the rest of you, anypony that lays a hoof on this filly will have to answer to me. These accusations are ludicrous and should be disregarded as such.”

“Princess? What's happening?” Twilight asked trying to peek out from behind the wing. She didn't get very far either, as Celestia's wing curled around her and lifted her onto the princess' back where the second wing joined the first to keep her trapped and unable to glimpse much more than a small window near the ceiling.

The position of her wings couldn't have been very comfortable for the princess, but rather than say anything about it, as Twilight herself would have done, she simply continued addressing the room. “Any questions or comments can be directed at my personally appointed regent!” she said, her voice full of authority. “In my absence, she holds the highest authority and has my full support.”

A guard began shouting as well, muffled by the feathers Twilight was trapped under, but still audible. She thought she recognised Aegis' voice, but she couldn't be sure. “Everypony go about your business! Anypony found trying to do harm to another, or the filly will be imprisoned for a fortnight for disruption of the peace and further charges will be brought depending on your involvement!”

Twilight's feathery prison began to move, though it may as well have been cast iron for all the success she had at getting out of it, and before long the tumultuous sounds of the courtroom died down.

Their trip took quite a while, and by the time the princess opened her wings to let Twilight out, the sight that greeted her was no longer that of the courtroom. Instead, they were at what Twilight recognised as the side entrance to the castle, through which she and her parents had arrived. When compared to the grandiose scale of the castle, the entrance was barely big enough to be qualified as such. It was wide enough to admit two ponies walking side by side, and small to medium-sized carts.

The last time she had been here, she had been so excited about her pending meeting with the princess that she scarcely remembered any of the surroundings, though she was quite sure there hadn't been this much activity. There was a long line of carts which were being subjected to swift examination by the guards before being waved through to a doorway, behind which a gently slope lead downward into the bowels of the castle.

At any other time, Twilight would have been wondering where all the carts were coming from, and perhaps where they were going. In her current state, however, all she could think to ask was: “What happened, princess? Did I do something wrong again?”

"No, Twilight. You didn't do anything wrong,” the princess replied, pairing her words with a gentle smile. “And you have nothing to worry about, I won't let anything happen to you.” The princess then turned to her guards and said, “Aegis, I want you to keep an eye on him. I will want to talk to him personally, but for now…” She nodded towards Twilight with her head, leaving Twilight to wonder what the princess meant, but Aegis seemed to understand what she meant.

“Right away, Your Majesty.”

After Aegis had cantered off, the princess turned to Rook. “I want you in the courtroom. Sunny is going to be having a hard time getting the situation back under control, and I want you to be there to help should the need arise.” When Rook did not answer right away, the princess let out a sigh and said, “Yes, I can take care of myself for an hour, and no, I shouldn't. If I stepped in every time something happened, ponies would never learn to trust in Sunny's judgement.”

Rook smirked. “I didn't say a thing, Princess.”

The princess huffed irritably. “You were thinking it.”

The guard bowed lightly and took off in the opposite direction his partner had gone in while the princess turned to Twilight and smiled. "Well then, Twilight, shall we get started on your lesson?"

The fire of enthusiasm was lit in Twilight’s mind and drowned out all other questions she might have had. She sprinted over to the entrance, wondering what she was going to learn about next, before she remembered that the princess had said the lesson would take place outside.

That proved to be an obstacle, as any and all of the carts coming through the gate, as well as the ponies that pulled them, were soaked to the bone. It was raining, and not in the light gentle way that her mother had always told her was good for the garden. Sight beyond the entrance had been reduced to a few dozen yards, while the rest of the world faded behind a rainstorm so heavy that it looked like a thick gray curtain. “Uhm, Princess, it’s raining... Does that mean that we can’t…?” She trailed off, feeling her heart sink down into her legs.

To her surprise, the princess merely smiled and stepped out of the deluge. Even more surprising was that not a single drop managed to reach her. They all tried of course, flinging themselves at her with all the energy their descent from the sky had given them, but they each met their demise against an invisible, impenetrable shield. “On the contrary, Twilight,” the princess said. “I think it will be very useful for our next lesson.”

They moved to a gazebo near the side of the mountain. The massive stone wall didn’t do much against the weather, because of the angle, but it gave Twilight another thing to gawk over. She had never really thought about how big the mountain that Canterlot had been built upon really was, and only remembered to stay close to the princess once the protective shield no longer covered her. In an instant, she too was soaked and scrambling to find shelter.

She shivered and shook herself to get rid of the water that hung to her coat. At some point, she was going to have to learn how the princess’ drying spell worked, but for now... Twilight turned around and watched the princess, wondering what her mentor was doing. She found out that the reason for her sudden shower wasn’t that she hadn’t remained close enough:

The princess had stopped casting whatever shield she had conjured, and had sat down on the wet grass, eyes closed and head tilted skyward.

It made Twilight wonder if it was part of the lesson, and if she was supposed to be doing something similar. She stuck a hoof out from under the protection of the gazebo and swiftly decided that she would rather not go back out there without protection from the weather. So she settled for calling out. “Princess?”

Either her voice was being drowned out by the rain, or the princess simply wasn't listening. Twilight sat down on her rump and pouted. Waiting was her only other option, unless she wanted to brave the curtain of rain once again. Luckily, whatever the princess was doing didn't last too long, and after a few minutes of intense pouting and trying to make her mentor move by sheer willpower, Twilight succeeded. Or the princess simply decided that enough was enough. Either way, she got up and made her way over to the gazebo as well, all smiles despite Twilight's own frown.

“Wonderful, isn't it, Twilight?” the princess asked, before shaking herself in a manner not dissimilar from Twilight's own. It gave Twilight a taste of what she inflicted on others, and rendered the roof useless. “No matter how many times the pegasi create storms like this, it never ceases to amaze me,” the princess continued, turning around and looking out over the little patch of garden that remained visible.

Twilight was much more interested in the princess herself. The alicorn looked a little silly with all of her coat sticking out on all sides, but it was her mane especially that Twilight was awestruck by. Even without any conscious effort from the princess, it quickly seemed to dry itself off and resumed its flowing motion before the princess had even finished her sentence. It took a moment longer for Twilight's brain to process the sentence, but once she had, she stuck out her tongue. “Bleh. Rain's icky. Why does it need to rain this hard, anyway?”

The princess let out an amused snort. “I'm afraid that it's our fault.”

That got Twilight's attention. “Really?” she asked, her ears perking up and swiveling towards the princess. “But I didn't—”

“Not intentionally, but..." The princess let her sentence peter out and shook her head. “I suppose it doesn't matter. Have you ever seen your parents create a shield against the rain, Twilight?”

A minute of silence passed between the two of them before Twilight shook her head. “I don't think so, Princess.” She looked around furtively in the foalish fear that her parents would know if she said anything bad about them, before scooting a little closer to the princess and leaning in to whisper: “They're not very good at magic.”

The princess hummed thoughtfully. “Alright then. Let’s start with the basics. A shield, is essentially nothing more than—”

“—charged magic particles that are aligned in the same direction, generally placed facing away from the caster. It is a spell easy enough that it can be mastered by every unicorn, and can, with practice, deflect substantial amounts of harm away from whatever you are trying to protect,” Twilight continued dutifully. The princess had stopped talking about halfway through and was peering at Twilight inquisitively. “Keep in mind that, while effective, a shield created this way will drain magic roughly equal to the force exerted upon it, and is therefore primarily used as a stopgap spell, rather than a long term solution.”

“Very good, my student. Where did you learn all of that?”

Twilight smiled. “There was a chapter on shields in ‘Magical Misfires and Mayhaps’,” she proclaimed proudly.

“Well remembered,” the princess said with a bemused smile. “And can you tell me what the most important reason for the spell's existence is?”

Twilight searched her memory for the relevant information but came up empty, and silently cursed herself for forgetting the pertinent answer. She was going to have to read the book again, but the princess was waiting for an answer now. “Speed?” she tried hopefully.

Her heart sank again when the princess shook her head. “Speed is, of course, important, but the most important thing about it is that it is easy to remember and cast, and doesn't require any specific runes…” The princess let her sentence peter out and held up a hoof before Twilight could ask what kind of runes there were. “We'll talk about runes later. Why do you think that it's important for the spell to be easy?”

The lesson, Twilight realised, was quickly turning into an impromptu quiz on her magical knowledge, and she was determined not to make any more mistakes. Maybe even impress the princess if things went well. “Because... that means that everypony can use it if they get into trouble?”

The princess nodded, lighting up her horn and creating a small, visible force field between them. It was deep yellow, almost golden in color, and Twilight couldn't help but admire how it looked. It was a much nicer color than her own dull pinkish-purple glow. “Precisely. Many unicorns that work in dangerous jobs—”

“Like police ponies?”

For a moment, she swore she could see an annoyed expression cross the princess' face, but it came and went so swiftly that she couldn’t be sure. “Yes, Twilight, like police ponies for example.” The princess poked the shield, making it pulse gently. “Police ponies have dangerous jobs, and they train their familiarity with the spell to such a degree that they can cast it reflexively.”

Twilight nodded. “It’s called reflexive- or ingrained conditioning.” She smiled when the princess looked at her, but became more and more uncomfortable under the princess’ perplexed stare. Minutes passed in silence, until she finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Did I say it wrong? Wasn’t I supposed to—”

The princess blinked, shook her head, and smiled. “No, Twilight. You are absolutely correct. I just...” she let out a short laugh. “You keep surprising me. Even though you’re young, you seem to know more than many adults do.”

“I really like to read,” Twilight piped up, pleased that the Princess seemed to be praising her after all.

The princess laughed. “Yes. That is something of which I am well aware.” She flexed her wings and folded them to her sides, taking a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “Let’s continue with your lesson shall we? Why don’t you try creating a shield like the one I made here?”

Twilight nodded and lit up her horn. She almost subconsciously closed her eyes to better focus on the magic flowing through her body, but a short cough from the princess kept them open, and painted her cheeks scarlet. Unlike her earlier lessons, she managed to cast the shield spell without any catastrophic failures, and although her shield flickered, she was proud of herself for getting it right on her first try.

“Hmmm...” The princess stepped forward and tapped a hoof against the shield which made Twilight clutch her head. It was as if the princess had tapped against her horn directly, and it made her head ache. “Very good, Twilight, but once the shield is in place, you should stop actively casting the spell.”

“But wouldn’t the shield disappear as well?”

With a sigh the princess placed a hoof on her nuzzle and shook her head softly. “Forgive me, Twilight. I’d forgotten that I haven’t told you about cantrips yet. We’ll have to come back to this later.”

“B-but... but...” Twilight’s ears drooped. She had failed again.

The princess frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”

No. No. NO! Twilight shook her head furiously. She was good at magic. Any student of the princess had to be, otherwise they were just a failure. She didn’t want to be a failure. She set her jaw and lit up her horn once more. She had seen her brother create his trademark shields a few times, and if she put enough power behind it, she was sure that she could replicate it.

After only a few seconds of intense focus, the world went dark, and the sound of the rain came to an abrupt halt. Twilight blinked, she hadn’t closed her eyes had she? “Hello?” she called out into the darkness. “Princess?”

No reply.

Twilight bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly. The fears that always lurked on the edge of her mind used the darkness and the silence as a way to get to her. You messed up again. You teleported without meaning to and now you’re trapped in a limbo dimension, a voice in her head told her.

“No...” It came from her lips like a whisper and faded into the darkness without leaving an echo.

Or maybe, you just destroyed the entire world, another voice began, but was silenced when Twilight shook her head again.

“No!”

Before getting her cutie mark, she might have believed her own exclamation, but given the damage that event had caused... She was no longer sure that she couldn’t have. After her outburst, the voices thankfully kept silent. Unfortunately, it didn’t help her at all. Minutes passed unseen, but before long, Twilight found that she was short of breath. No, it was more like breathing was becoming more difficult.

Everything told her that she was running out of time. Her breaths came in short wheezes, her heart near hammered right out of chest, her stomach contorted in ways it wasn’t supposed to, and her hooves felt like lead. “Princess?” she managed, beseeching the darkness piteously, while gasping for breath. “Please, if you can hear me… please… please save me.”

A sound like a nail being dragged over a blackboard pierced the silence, making Twilight clamp her ears to her skull. It was louder than anything she had ever heard before, a pinprick of light appeared in the darkness, a little ways above her. It did not remain a pinprick for long, and the sound persisted, even getting louder as the light, which she now recognised as a glowing horn, tore a hole in the void. Air rushed back in and Twilight gratefully took great big gulps of it.

What was left of the void shattered into a million tiny pieces which then evaporated in the air, and suddenly Twilight could see again. After the silence, the sound of the rain felt like a drum was being played inside of her head and even the soft light of a cloudy afternoon hurt her eyes, but anything was better than being stuck in nowhere.

“Twilight..?” The contours of the princess’ worried face resolved themselves in her field of view and she did the only thing that she could. She ran forward and buried her face in the princess’ neck, sobbing uncontrollably. A pair of hooves drew her close and were soon followed by a warm wing, which only made Twilight more aware of how cold she was. “There, there, Twilight. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Twilight clung to the princess’ voice and let her tears flow, giving voice to all of the mounting fears that had plagued her.

The princess simply held her through it all.

It wasn’t until all of her tears had spilled, half an hour later that Twilight realised that the princess was lying down on her side, and that her mentor’s breathing was as laboured as her own. “Princess?” she asked in a small voice. “What’s happened?”

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” the princess replied with gentle smile that Twilight couldn’t believe came from a pony who seemed to be in great amounts of pain. “It’s just...” The princess took a deep breath and coughed up a few specks of blood onto the gazebo floor, much to Twilight’s horror. “Just the backlash from dispelling your shield.” Her smile grew a little wider and she gave Twilight a soft nuzzle. “Very impressive strength-wise, though I believe we should teach you to be a little more selective about what you block with it.”

When Twilight didn’t smile, the princess hugged her a little tighter and said; “Don’t worry about me, Twilight. I’ll be fine.”

“But I did th—”

“No, Twilight. I chose to do this.” Seemingly drained, the princess dropped her head back onto the stone floor and sighed. “I’ll be fine, I just need some time to recover.”

Twilight couldn’t bear to see the princess like she was in that moment, so she pressed her face back into the princess’ fur. Her “Do you promise?” was mumbled through that coat and therefore barely audible.

The princess giggled and then winced before saying; “Yes, Twilight. I promise. Just let me rest for a few more minutes and we’ll go get something to eat. Okay?”

Face still pressed into her mentor’s coat, all Twilight did was nod her head.

A Brief Respite

View Online

Much to Celestia’s surprise and consternation, Twilight was already skipping ahead and asking questions again by the time they made it back to the castle. It was like she hadn’t fully registered—or perhaps simply didn’t care about—almost having died. Another example of youthful resilience that Celestia had trouble comprehending; though part of that was probably because she herself was having trouble staying upright. The brute force magical surge that she had used to break Twilight's everything-proof shield had taken its toll on both her body and magic, to the point where merely staying conscious took a concentrated effort of will.

As such, she had decided that eating in the Grand Dining Hall probably wasn't the best of ideas. Many ponies were already concerned by the filly-assassin, and adding her passing out in the middle of dinner would only add fuel to that fire—to say nothing of what might happen if they found out that Twilight had been the cause of it. She groaned softly, the thought reminding her of the fact that she’d had a stallion imprisoned over it. He would have to be dealt with at some point, but injuries and the healing thereof always made her hungry, and right now she was ravenous.

"Aegis?" she asked, putting extra effort into making sure her voice sounded steady and strong. "Could you please ask Mead to send the food up to my chambers?"

Despite her best effort, there was a certain hesitance in Aegis’ motions, looking up at her for a split second before asking, "Is there anything in particular I should ask him for, Princess?"

Celestia tried to come up with the name of a dish she enjoyed, but her mind stubbornly refused to cooperate, telling her that she should be finding the nearest bed to pass out on instead. "Tell him to make something extra special for Twilight," she said finally. "And I would like a double portion of the usual."

Aegis saluted. "Right away, Princess."

She would've liked to ask Rook to go with his partner, but while his expression was as emotionless as ever, he exuded an indomitable aura that made it clear he would likely refuse any such request. Even without any of the physical indicators, she was certain that Rook was upset; though whether or not that was with her for doing something so reckless, or with himself for not having prevented it, she didn't know. She did know that she owed both him and Aegis an apology at some point.

"Princess? What are those?"

Celestia looked from Rook to Twilight, and then to the stained glass windows the filly was pointing at. They had taken a detour into a side passage of the castle that saw little traffic, and had she remembered that it was home to that particular trio of windows, she would likely have taken another route. It wasn’t an experience she remembered fondly. The first window depicted a stylized dragon in deep blue, in the air over a village on fire. The second painted a picture of herself with spread wings and glowing horn in the foreground while the dragon was all teeth and fire in the background. Lastly, the slain dragon, with a white and gold pony standing on top of it; physically dwarfed by the monstrosity, but victorious.

"It's a story, Twilight," she said tiredly. Having to cope with the images, emotions and thoughts the windows evoked made her all the more weary.

"Is it the story about the time that dragon almost bit off one of your wings?" Twilight asked excitedly, looking between Celestia and the windows every alternate second.

"Yes, Twilight," was all Celestia could think to say, and after the filly opened her mouth to ask the inevitable, she added: "I'll tell you about it later. Right now I think we could both use a good meal."

“But I want to hear it now,” Twilight said, a soft undertone of a whine creeping into her voice.

Celestia sighed and shook her head. “We’ve just had quite an experience ourselves. Stories can wait until later, right now we both need to make sure that we’re alright. Story time can wait. Come along now.”

Twilight pouted and looked back at the windows, but eventually acquiesced. “Yes, Princess.”

The meal arrived at her chambers shortly after they did. An elaborate spread of dishes on a cart that didn’t merely contain two helpings of ‘the usual,’ but looked to be enough for an entire feast. Mead had overdone it once again.

Twilight dove in to her meal with gusto, devouring the entire tower of fruit in seconds, and following it up with two separate dishes of vegetables, to the point where Celestia wondered where the filly put all of it. That wasn't to say that she herself ate at a sedate pace. Not only had Mead outdone himself once again, but she had several plates worth of energy to recover after the incident in the gardens; another reason she had chosen to eat in the privacy of her own chambers. It wouldn't do to have ponies see her scarf down food like a starving pony.

From the awe in Twilight's eyes when she looked up from her own meal, even that was an impressive sight.

Neither of them said anything for minutes after the meal had ended, both enjoying a companionable silence while digesting their food, or at least; Celestia was enjoying it. Before the filly could shatter the serene silence that permeated the room, however, the door opened and the opportunity was stolen from her.

"Princess?" Quarter Time stuck her head into the room with an apologetic smile. "I have a very important letter here. May I come in?"

"Of course, QT," Celestia replied, remembering the young mare's nickname.

"Cutie?" A glance over to Twilight showed her confused expression while she inspected the mare stepping into the room. The filly quickly vacated her seat and circled the young mare like a shark, or perhaps a budding photographer before humming softly. "She doesn't look that cute," she said decidedly. "My foalsitter rated higher on the 'cute' scale by a measure of at least two points." She paused for a moment before tapping her her chin with a hoof. "Although... maybe that was just because my brother liked her..."

Celestia smiled encouragingly at the olive green mare who looked part baffled, part uncertain of herself. "It was an initialism, Twilight."

"An inti—?" Twilight mouthed the world several times, looking more frustrated with each failed attempt.

"An initialism. It means shortening something to make it easier to say," Celestia elaborated. "Her name is Quarter Time, and thus the initialism becomes Q followed by a T." She turned to the mare herself. "You can put the letter on my desk, QT. I'll look it over when I get a chance."

Quarter Time shuffled on the spot, while Twilight began mumbling to herself. "Actually, Princess," she said, looking at the filly next to her. "The letter is for Twilight."

"Initialism!" Twilight shouted suddenly, looking very pleased with herself. It was short-lived, swiftly replaced by confusion when Quarter Time practically stuck the letter in her face. "For me?" Quarter Time nodded and smiled, taking a step back and massaging her right ear with a hoof after the filly had accepted the letter.

After that, the room went quiet once more, save for the sounds of paper being shredded. Celestia's focus wavered. The confines of her room melted away, replaced by a wide open meadow. A single tree sheltered her in its shadow, while her sun lit up the greens of the grass and the colors of flowers alike. There were no ponies or problems requiring her attention, no restrictions or social pressures to watch out for... It was peaceful... familiar...

Celestia closed her eyes and listened to the song of a pair of birds who were loudly proclaiming their courtship to the world with an unburdened smile. What a beautiful day. She surveyed her surroundings for a time, delighting in the completely relaxed atmosphere that surrounded her. After she had seen all there was to see from her prone position, she got up and wandered around, eager for more.

Sadly, no grand vistas awaited her on the far side of the tree. All she saw was just more wide open field as far as the eyes could see; at least, until something crashed into her, after which all she saw was sky.

“‘Tia!” a young voice whined at her, while a small form crawled over her exposed stomach. “Thou promised we would play!”

She lifted her head. The voice sounded familiar and impossible at the same time. Any and all confusion she had felt about her attacker up until that point turned into astonishment, which, in turn, was swept away in a wave of euphoria. “Luna!” she screamed, sweeping her sister up in a hug that left the small, dark blue alicorn struggling in her grip.

She couldn’t hold on to her sister for long with the way Luna struggled. After putting her down, Celestia found that she couldn’t even get a clear picture of her sister after all those years, tears of joy blurring her vision to the point where she could only make out a dark blob against a background of green and blue.

“What is the matter, ‘Tia? Dost thou not want to play with us anymore?” Luna’s voice went from whiny to concerned and all Celestia could think of was that she didn’t want her reunion with her sister marred by such things. She dried her tears with one of her forelegs and chuckled, stifling a sob she felt coming on.

“Of course I do, Lulu,” she replied, heart overflowing. “What would you like to do?”

Luna looked at her as though she’d grown a second head. “Night-time, Day-time, of course! Dost thou forget?”

Celestia remembered. It was a game foals often played, though their versions were a far cry from the game Luna and Celestia had played together; such things tended to happen when both ponies playing it each controlled a heavenly body. She smiled and nodded. “Alright then, shall I go first?”

Luna pouted. “No! We wanted to be first!”

The face Luna made caused Celestia to smile and giggle all over again. “Alright, Luna. Go ahead,” she said, turning her gaze skyward to see what kind of tricks Luna would make her moon perform this time. Out of the two of them, Luna had always been the more playful one, and it showed in their games, which sometimes seemed like they would never end; or perhaps she just wished they wouldn't.

The moon rose in the sky, eclipsing the sun and veiling the grasslands in darkness. Celestia watched it trace a few lazy circles in the sky, a far cry from the tricks she knew her sister could conjure up. A brief glance towards her sister showed her to be frowning thoughtfully, and Celestia returned her attention to the sky with a smile. She called on her own magic and impishly gave the moon a nudge, sending it spiraling out of control.

“‘Tia!” Luna shouted, bracing her small form in a way that only hindered her spellcasting to try and keep the moon from falling out of the sky. It slowed, halted, and with great effort from Luna, went back to its dance in the sky, quickly joined by Celestia’s sun. “T’was our turn,” Luna whined, to which Celestia could only respond with a giggle.

“Perhaps you should’ve come up with an idea beforehoof,” she teased, turning her sun from brilliant yellow into a soft purple, giving her sister’s moon a more eerie shine.

“I did! I was just trying to make it better!” Coinciding with her sentence, Luna’s charge exploded into dust, which wove itself into clouds of shimmering stars that danced with the sun in a loose formation. It was a sight to behold, and that was exactly what Celestia did.

She forgot her own part in the little game they were playing and simply looked at the unfolding rhythm that Luna commanded her little pieces of light to follow. Luna, however, didn’t stop. With a soft tinkling laugh, she reformed parts of her moon to create reflective miniatures of ponies, which then joined in the dance around the sun. Celestia fumbled a little when she tried to follow her sister’s example with her sun. Superheated plasma was a little more volatile and more difficult to control than reflective rocks. Eventually she settled for breaking it into half a dozen pieces, each a different color, around which Luna’s moon-ponies played.

Their playtime in such a manner never lasted very long. Fun though it was, it taxed both of them, and especially Luna usually didn’t last for more than half an hour. They took their time in restoring their charges to their usual state, though Luna left her moon hanging right next to the sun. She waited for Celestia to take a seat at the edge of the pool before crawling in between her sister’s forelegs and nuzzling into her coat where she could reach it. “‘Tia?”

“Yes, Lu?”

“Thank you.”

Celestia smiled and gave her sister a hug softer than the first. “Any time, Lu.” She looked up at her sun with a sigh, absently stroking the coat on Luna’s back with a hoof. “I’ve missed this.”

“We have, too.” They sat there for a long time, delighting in each other’s company, occasionally swapping a tidbit of conversation or a laugh. It wasn't nearly long enough before Luna escaped from Celestia’s loose embrace, and looked up at her sister with a frown, however. “We have to go.”

Celestia grabbed a hold of her sister with a panicked expression, holding her close. “Can’t you stay? Just a little while longer?”

The alicorn filly shook her head sadly and extricated herself from Celestia’s grasp once more. “Thou art aware that we cannot.”

Celestia nodded sadly, tears of a very different nature blurring her vision while she placed a hoof on Luna’s withers. “I know,” she said, reaching forward and placing a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “I love you, Luna, always.”

Luna smiled a weak smile and nodded. She faded into the surroundings slowly, becoming see-through and beginning to disappear from her hooves on upwards before long. “We love thee too, sister," what was left of Luna replied, her voice soft as a whisper on the wind. "Fare thee well.”

After Luna had disappeared, Celestia sank to the ground and wept.

Celestia awoke with tears streaming down her cheeks, her subconscious sorrow spilling over into the real world. But despite her tears, she felt a little better; no longer on the verge of collapse at least. Opening her eyes showed her three different doctors standing over her, and a pair of stoic guards that had trouble hiding their frustration—likely with themselves. With a groan, Celestia raised her head, making her consciousness known.

"Princess! Thank goodness!" the head physician exclaimed, immediately sticking a wooden stick down her throat without even the courtesy of asking her to say 'ah'. "We were starting to worry!"

"Ghow logg was I out?" Celestia asked him.

"Two hours, give or take." The physician nodded to himself and placed a cold stethoscope against her chest. "Your student seemed to think it was all her fault somehow, and I am inclined to agree with her."

"Hmmm... I think I overexerted myself before dinner," Celestia replied, gingerly stretching her legs and wings in turn, testing their strength. "Nothing to worry about, doctor."

The doctor gave her a stern look. "I must disagree. All of your magical leylines are frayed, and we've even found a hairline fracture in your horn," he said, making gestures to the relevant spots as he talked. "I don't know what happened exactly, but as your physician, I must insist that you take it easy for the next couple of days, perhaps even take a day off."

A week prior, 'taking it easy' would have been unthinkable. There was too much depending on her, too much that would falter without her direct intervention. The country itself would have fallen apart if she had 'taken it easy' at any point; not that it was much more secure now, but between Twilight, Sunny's appointment, and her recent exhaustion, she found herself considering it.

It's not as though I would be completely out of reach if ponies really do need me...

"Now, I know that my advice will go ignored, but as a medical professional, I am obligated to tell you about the risks that may—"

"I understand, doctor," Celestia interrupted the stallion. "I will try to take it easy for a few days, though I can't promise I'll actually be able to take a day off." The trio of medical specialists looked at her as though she had grown a second head, but she ignored their confounded stares in favor of looking for her student. She found Twilight far side of the room, being consoled by Quarter Time. "Is there anything else?"

“I... well...” The doctor looked to his colleagues and finally shrugged helplessly. He evidently wasn't used to her heeding his advice. “No, Your Majesty.”

Celestia smiled at him, and got up. “Good.” She left the medical staff behind and made her way over to Aegis and Rook, both whom straightened as she got closer. “At ease.” Only after they relaxed somewhat did she continue. “I imagine one of you brought in the doctors?"

Aegis nodded. "First thing when you collapsed, Princess."

"Thank you for your quick thinking. I do apologise for letting it happen.”

“Part of the job, Princess," Aegis replied. Rook remained silent.

She favored them both with an approving nod. “As you’ve probably heard, it seems like I am going to need to take it easy for a time. Could the two of you make sure nopony bothers me, unless it’s very important?”

Both guards saluted. “Of course, Your Highness."

“Very good,” she said. “Now, I’m going to lay down.” She turned to the medical staff. “Gentleponies, thank you for your concern. I intend to follow your orders as best as I can, but please, return to the infirmary. I’m sure there are plenty of ponies who need your expertise.”

The doctors exchanged glances. “Of course, Your Highness. We’ll let you rest,” the head physician said, motioning for the others to follow.

After the room had been cleared of all the medical ponies, Aegis and Rook followed them out, getting ready to ply their own expertise just outside the door

“Oh, and Rook?” Celestia said, calling them to a halt just before the door closed.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Celestia turned to him. “I don’t care what she wants, or how important she thinks she is. I don’t want to see Blueblood in my chambers. Understood?”

That finally got Rook to respond. “Yes, Your Highness!” He replied with a grim smile. "I'll make sure she doesn't get in."

Only after the doors had been shut behind the guards did Celestia walk over to Quarter Time and Twilight, the former of which was trying to console the latter.

“Everything’s going to be okay, see? The Princess is already awake again,” the young mare said, pointing at Celestia.

Twilight launched herself at Celestia almost as soon as she had been pointed out to her. When they collided, however, all Celestia could think about was the fact that Twilight lacked the same strength that allowed Luna to force her to the ground so effectively. She brought up a hoof to support the filly lest she fall, and looked down at a pair of tear-filled eyes. It seemed as though Twilight wasn’t done crying just yet.

“S-sorry!” the filly blubbered, clinging to Celestia’s coat as though physical contact would make everything alright. “I made a mistake—and you had to— and then you fell over—and they didn’t want me to—Sohohorryyyy!”

Though it perhaps wasn’t the time for such feelings, Twilight’s anguish warmed Celestia’s heart. She wasn’t used to such a reaction from ponies, though that was likely as much a result from not having been in a vulnerable position for a long time as anything else. She couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Twilight,” she said with a smile in her voice, magically prying the filly from her chest and holding her at arm’s length. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you’ve done nothing—”

“That’s not true!” Twilight yelled in between her sobbing, which was slowly starting to subside. “That pony in the court already said I was dangerous! I made a mistake during the lesson, and then you fell over, and then the doctors came, and they knew that I was, and I wasn’t allowed to stay near you and—”

“Twilight, stop!” The force of Celestia’s exclamation, paired with the sudden absence of a smile actually made the filly quiet down. “Do you remember what I told you about the sun, and how it too could be considered dangerous?”

Twilight nodded mutely.

“Good.” Celestia nodded in turn, and let a hint of a smile return. “Yes, you made a mistake, and yes, I did get hurt. These things happen sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to stop making mistakes, or claim responsibility for every little thing that happens because of it. Understood?”

Twilight nodded again, though her tears were still flowing, and it was a much more unsure nod than the first one had been.

Pleased that her words seemed to have hit their mark, Celestia then plucked Twilight out of the air and held her in an embrace that finally calmed her down. “You’re my student, and if I have to get hurt to teach you some things, then I’ll do so gladly.” When she did not receive a reply, she loosened her embrace and looked down at the filly. Twilight had fallen asleep in her forelegs, the fear, crying, and exhaustion having taken their toll.

With a tender smile, Celestia placed Twilight on her back and set out to put her to bed, only remembering that there was another pony in the room when she heard the unsure shuffling of hooves. Although adding her presence during so intimate a moment to the long list of things she hadn’t intended to happen, the fact that the young mare had hung around did give her the opportunity to ask a question that sprung to the forefront of her mind. “Quarter Time, would you walk with me?”

The young mare nodded eagerly, and followed her out the doors. “Is there anything you need from me, Your Majesty?”

“I merely have some questions,” Celestia replied before rooting her guards to the floor with her magic. “I’ll be just down the hall, there really is no need for either of you to come with me for this.”

Aegis saluted. Rook was too busy trying to pick himself up from the floor to do likewise.

“So... uhm...” Quarter Time asked when they stepped into Twilight’s bedroom, hemming and hawing while Celestia put Twilight to bed; it was much easier when the filly was asleep. “What did you want to know, Your Majesty?”

Celestia shushed her and quietly made her way out, closing the door before she spoke again. Waking up Twilight now was not something she was particularly enthused about. “Is something amiss with Seabreeze? Has she fallen ill?”

“...Not that I know of, Your Majesty.”

“Then why were you the one bringing in the mail?

“I... just... uhm...” The mare looked at the floor. “I just wanted to do something—anything—other than cleaning up all day. So when the letter came in I just sort of... volunteered to deliver it,” she said lamely.

“I take it that nopony else is aware of your volunteering?” Even before Quarter Time shook her head, Celestia could already tell that that wasn’t the case. “Care to tell me why?”

From the look on Quarter Time’s face, she really rather wouldn’t have explained herself. But when Celestia raised an eyebrow, she nevertheless began talking. “I hate being a maid,” she began, looking around worriedly as though her colleagues would fault her for such an opinion. “It’s not that it’s terrible cleaning the castle, or that I’d rather be lazy than tired. I mean... I want to work, I’m even sort of good at cleaning, but...”

“But you would rather do something more... important?” Celestia finished the sentence for her.

Another nod followed by a sigh. “It just feels like my sister’s out saving the world— not literally, of course, but she’s helping Your Majesty manage it... and I’m just...” Quarter Time grunted in frustration. “cleaning up after ponies...”

Celestia hummed thoughtfully. "Your sister told me that you had ambitions to be a guard?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Quarter Time flattened her ears and looked around again. "But it seems the castle needs maids more than guards."

Celestia lowered her head to be able to look the young mare in the eyes, and smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure there's something we can do about that. Come with me."

Twilight woke up the following morning with an uneasy feeling in her chest that simply wouldn't go away, and thinking back to how the Princess had collapsed because of her only made it worse. She looked around her room for something to help put it out of her mind, but was only reminded of how different things were in the castle. Aside from the books she had brought with her, her entire room still looked like— felt like she was just visiting; devoid of the items that made her old room familiar and safe.

From the bookcase, to the end table next to the bed, to even the carpet and the mirror that hung on the wall; they were items that were there for her to use, yet didn't feel like they belonged to her. For just a moment, Twilight wished she could go back home. While fear over the fate of the Princess had eclipsed most everything of the previous day, she did recall the letter her parents had sent. In it, they apologized for not having had the time to come visit, and promising that they soon would, though there hadn't been a specific date.

Twilight set her jaw. She was a big pony, and she would be fine without her parents... even though she would have really liked a hug, and maybe a few encouraging words. Most everything she had experienced since coming to the castle had been scary in its own way and— she shook herself out of her stupor and changed tactics. She needed something tangible to keep herself distracted. Her eyes invariably drifted over the end-table sized book, and she smiled a little. The More Than Complete Mareiam-Webstar's Dictionary would do nicely. Before she even got as far as opening the book, however, her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t been paying it and its needs nearly enough attention over the last few days.

She was half tempted to ignore it. Between the large meal from the night before, and the fact that she hadn’t even gotten a tenth of the reading quota that she had set for herself done; taking care of herself just felt bothersome. On the other hoof, she had promised Mead she would eat more regularly, and she didn’t want to disappoint the stallion if she could help it.

I could even bring a book or two with me!

Twilight clopped her hooves together happily, briefly wondering why she hadn’t come up with that particular idea herself, only to realise that she had. Daring Do was an obvious first choice, although she ran into a problem when she looked for something educational to pair it with. The dictionary was much too large for her to move, much less read in a place as crowded as the Grand Dining Hall was, and now that she thought of it, Celestia really hadn’t given her any reading material or homework in the way that a school teacher might have. Picking up the Daring Do book with her magic while making her way to the door, she resolved to ask the Princess for more things to read when she got the chance.

She heard the muttering of Aegis before she had even good and well opened the door: "grmbl, he knows I like pancakes, he could've—” The stallion visibly stiffened when he saw Twilight, treating her to an awkward smile when she cocked her head in confusion. "Hello, Twilight."

"H-hello,” she replied, somewhat taken aback by having a guard in front of her room. It felt like he should have been with the Princess, and the fact that he wasn’t worried her.

"The Princess is in the Grand Dining Hall,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “I'm supposed to take you to her, to make sure you don't get lost again."

"Oh.” Twilight smiled happily. The Princess was okay, and she wouldn’t even have to search the castle for her this time. “Okay!” she said, skipping ahead and waiting for Aegis only when she reached the first intersection.

They spent most of their trip towards the unofficial center of the castle in silence, the exception being when Twilight recalled something from her morning in the infirmary. “Mister Aegis?” she asked, stopping on the spot and looking up at the stallion whom halted next to her.

“Uh... yes, Twilight?”

“Why didn’t you want to help me when I was stuck in the infirmary?”

Aegis turned red in the face, but didn’t say anything for the longest time. Just when Twilight began wondering if she should repeat her question he stammered; “I... uhh... I think... uhm... the Princess will explain it to you when you’re older.” He set himself in motion again, leaving Twilight to follow, confused, and a little annoyed.

Why does it always have to be when I’m older?

She voiced the question aloud, making Aegis come to a halt yet again, and noted the sweat that beaded down his face while he considered his response, which took almost as long as the first time. “It’s because... Uhm...” A light seemed to go up in his brain, and it brought a knowing smile with it. “It’s because you haven’t yet advanced far enough in your studies to understand the how or the why of my decision.”

While Twilight had an inkling that she knew more about magic than he did, that wasn't true for everything. What he said was plausible enough, and she was surprised by how much she didn’t know every time she opened a book. “Oh,” she said, “Okay.” She filed the thought away under ‘ask The Princess about it’ and focused on the here and now. If The Princess wasn’t too busy, she would very likely want to give Twilight another lesson, and this time, she wanted to be prepared— a proposition made difficult by the fact that she had no idea what The Princess would want to teach her next, though it wasn’t something that she deemed insurmountable; she would simply have to be prepared for anything...

...which I can’t do without a trip to the library, and at least half a dozen books on varying subjects. she thought with a frown, which became yet another entry for the 'ask The Princess' archive.

The Dining Hall was more crowded than ever, and yet at the same time oddly stilted in the ongoing festivities. It was obviously due to a whole host of snobby-looking ponies, every single one of which seemed to have their eyes on Twilight the moment she stepped through the doors. As far as she could see, ponies would stare at her, or cast a glance in her direction before starting to whisper to one another.

It felt awful.

She made her way over to the Princess’ table as quickly as she could, only to find that the Princess, too, was surrounded by nobles, none of whom seemed happy to see her. Fortunately, the Princess was.

“Please excuse me,” she told the small group of noble ponies that had been talking at her. She abandoned her seat at the head of the table and made her way over to Twilight. “Did you sleep well?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, Pri—”

“Princess!” One of the nobles the Princess had been talking to stepped forward, looking down his nose at Twilight for barely a moment before focusing on the Alicorn. “I hadn’t yet had the chance to express my grievances about the dissolution of the council. My brother has been a staunch supporter of your rule all his life, and doing away with him like he is some—”

“I am sorry, Mayor Winds, truly I am,” Celestia interrupted him. “However, as you have no doubt heard by now, I have been ordered to take it easy by my physician.” She casually indicated another group of nobles with a wing. “My being at this little soireé was entirely unplanned and as such I’m afraid you will have to take your grievances to the new regent.”

The stallion’s cheeks puffed up, and Twilight had to stifle a giggle. He looked ridiculous, but laughing would only turn more ponies against her.

The Princess smiled politely but said nothing until the stallion let out a breath and bowed lightly. "I understand. Thank you for your time, Princess."

After he was gone, the Princess motioned for Twilight to follow along and set a course for the kitchens. They were stopped—and talked at—by a few other ponies, but the Princess politely told them to buzz off.

The din of the Dining Hall faded to mere background noise when they stepped into the kitchens, and Twilight's nose was immediately assaulted by a smell that was as potent as it was pungent. "Bleh," she said, sticking out her tongue. Unfortunately, opening her mouth only made the smell worse and she had to gag a few times before she was able to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat. "Did somepony burn something in here?" she asked the Princess, who seemed like she was used to the smell—or perhaps simply immune to it.

The cooks, many of which were hard at work trying to keep the snobby ponies up the stairs sated, did not deign to respond to her question. However, in the back, a wild tuft of mane appeared behind an intricate series of glass tubes. The tuft was swiftly followed by the curious face of Mead, who smiled when he saw the pair of ponies that had just stepped into his domain. "Ah! Princess, little Twilight! Welcome, welcome!" His retreat behind the contraption went paired with a cacophony of noise which only made Twilight more curious. "Take a seat. Be right with you."

The Princess regarded the tuft of mane with a look. "Isn't it a little early in the day to be brewing, Mead?"

"Nonsense! Good drinks, like good food, aren't ruled by the clock, Princess," came the reply, after which Mead stepped out from behind his foul-smelling contraption. "Make sure you don't singe those dandelion crackers, Doughy." While a little more disheveled than usual, the stallion nevertheless had a wide smile on his face when he approached them. He made his way over to the table, carefully balancing two mugs on his back, one of which he put in front of the Princess. The other he put in front of himself, leaving Twilight with a sense of disappointment. Before she could give voice to it, however, he pulled a third mug from out of nowhere, and set it down in front of her with a wink and put a hoof to his lips while nodding to the Princess.

Twilight understood. This would be their little secret. She put her book down on the table and waited until the Princess dealt with her own mug, before leaning forward to take a quick sip.

Despite the smell that was apparently part of its creation process, the drink had just the right mixture of sweetness and bitterness. The only thing Twilight didn’t like was the burning feeling the mixture left when she swallowed it. Upon seeing Mead’s half-curious half-anticipatory expression, she effected a smile and nodded. It wasn’t a bad drink at all, and she didn’t want to give Mead a reason to be disappointed with her.

Keeping the secret from the Princess proved to be easier than expected, as the alicorn thoughtfully smacked her lips after each sip she took. Twilight quickly emptied her own mug, and hid it away beneath the table, trying to gauge if the Princess had noticed while a mellow and somewhat pleasant warmth spread throughout her body.

She sat in silence for a while after that, waiting for the Princess to finish her drink while curiously looking around the kitchens. The kitchen where her father cooked the meals for the family had been familiar to her, but she had never before seen one that could accommodate almost twenty ponies working side by side.

The glass contraption from behind which Mead had appeared was tucked away in the back of the room near a wooden door that presumably led deeper into the castle. The rest of the room was occupied by stoves, counters, and home to more cooking utensils than Twilight had ever seen. Various strange implements lined the walls, and their use became clear only when one or the other was snatched away from its resting place and used by one of the many cooks that busied themselves around the kitchen interior.

"This is very good, Mead." The Princess said, snapping Twilight out of her observational reverie when she finally put her own mug back on the table. "It´s not quite as strong as vodka, but it has a lot more character. I especially like the aftertaste. What is it?"

"It's mead!” the stallion declared proudly. “It’s a mix of fermented honey, water, and a few extra touches to mellow the taste out a little. Made it myself!"

Twilight giggled softly. Her head felt fuzzy, and Mead naming a drink after himself tickled her funny bone. "Mead's Mead!" She exclaimed with a goofy grin.

Mead laughed. "Yes indeed, little miss. Mead's Mead! I'll have the entire castle cursing the lack of supply before the week is out."

The Princess shook her head with a sigh. "Before you take over my castle with alcohol, could you see about getting Twilight something to eat?"

"Of course! Cookie, make the little miss here a few sandwiches, would ya?"

One of the younger cooks nodded, and presented Twilight with a plate full of delectable looking daffodil sandwiches in short order. They were just as soft and spongy as when her mother made them, and if she was honest, even a little tastier. Twilight ate slowly, her eyes glued to the mesmerising sway of the Princess' mane while she chewed. She was only halfway through her second sandwich when a high-pitched voice made her clamp her ears to her skull.

"Princess? Princess?! We would like a word about the treatment of the nobility by your highness in recent days."

Across the table, the Princess stiffened, her eyes darting to the stairs, then the door in the back, and finally to Twilight. “I think we’ll have to take those with us, Twilight,” she said in a smooth, even tone. Any confusion Twilight might have had was swiftly crushed beneath the Princess’ hooves as she got up and magicked Twilight onto her back, plate of sandwiches and all. “Mead, could you keep them busy for a while?” she asked while already making her way towards the door in the back. “I’d rather not—”

“Just go, Princess, they won’t get by me.”

“Rook, Aegis. Follow me.”

Twilight watched the two guards—whom she hadn’t even noticed enter the kitchen— drop their statue imitations and sprint towards her while Mead took up a position near the stairs. The heavy-set earth pony squared his shoulders and set his jaw, managing to present a scarier visage than Twilight had thought possible. He looked as if he was facing down a horde of manticores, rather than a couple of posh nobles. Not that those weren’t scary in their own way, but still...

For some reason, the thought of nobles as manticores made her giggle again, and she briefly wondered what it would be like to stay behind and watch the standoff. She also had an unexplained craving for popcorn.

Their trip through the castle towards the courtyard passed without a word from anypony. Celestia was pleased, and even a little giddy for ditching her responsibilities and dumping more work into Sunny's lap. She felt naughty, and liberated, and even though the start of her day hadn't been the most grand—being woken up to attend the gathering of boorish nobles that caring for Twilight had saved her from—after the successful escape, she was certain nothing could go wrong.

She and fate still did not see eye to eye on such matters.

Just when it seemed like they would reach the courtyard un-assaulted, Twilight screamed; "My book!" and crawled across Celestia's back, putting her small hooves on the back of Celestia's neck to gain a vantage point. "Princess, I forgot my book!"

Eyebrow twitches were hard to suppress, and even Celestia had not had enough experience with them to fully repress that part of her body's subconscious responses. Lucky, Twilight couldn't see her face. Just a minor hiccup, she told herself. "I’ll get you another book, Twilight," she told the filly on her back. "I’ll get you a hundred other books, we’re not going back there anytime soon.”

“Does that mean that we’re going to a library?” The eagerness in Twilight’s voice was palpable, and that was enough to make Celestia smile.

“Yes, Twilight, I wanted to get a few books for you to read which could help with your studies,” she replied, mentally adding: and none of those stuck up ponies would set a hoof in a library if they couldn’t use it for leverage later.

Just because most of the nobles would never be caught dead in one of them, did not mean that the libraries were always empty, however. From students of her School for Gifted Unicorns, to teachers, scientists, and even residents of the castle all made use of them at one time or another; and today was no different.

The library Celestia had chosen to visit, whether by chance or not, was the same one that she had shown Twilight after her entrance exam. While certainly not the biggest in the castle, the Astronomer’s Library was almost certainly the most well-stocked. That most of the books had something to do with the study of the heavens was fairly self-evident, but, like all of the libraries in the castle, also carried some basic literature and educational books thanks to a token effort at decentralization Celestia had instituted a few hundred years prior.

The already silent room became moreso when Celestia stepped over the threshold. The few ponies that weren’t engrossed in their books or preoccupied in some other way all dipped their heads towards her in respect. Unlike the Dining Hall, her presence here wasn’t much of a surprise.

“There’s nothing I need in particular, thank you,” she said, waving away the attendant that hurried towards them before striding off towards the section that held the educational books not focused on the night skies.

The small alcove the books were stored in wasn’t dusty, or badly maintained. If anything she would have to commend the custodian for keeping everything looking tidy, yet there were clear signs that implied the place saw little use: Uncracked book spines, leftover bookmarks in some of the volumes... it did Celestia good to know that that would soon change. If nothing else, Twilight was an avid reader and would make short work of the available literature.

She selected a trio of books dealing with basic spellcasting. Runology was a basic part of casting any spell more advanced than levitation, yet she hadn’t seen Twilight use any of that. Either the filly had missed that particular class, or, more likely, was using the ones she had learned in school and overloaded them to the point of disaster. In essence, she was years ahead in terms of what she could manage magically, and she had no tools to work with. “Here, Twilight,” she said, levitating the books up to her back where the filly could most certainly grab hold of them. “I think we should start with the...” It was only then that she found out that her student had vacated her back at some point.

It was no reason to panic, yet Celestia couldn’t help a surge of concern, especially given what happened when she had last left Twilight by herself. She stepped out of the alcove and looked around, finding nothing that indicated where Twilight might have gone. Her ears, however, perked up and swiveled around when she heard a muted scream, followed by giggling coming from somewhere deeper into the library.

At least she seems to be enjoying herself, Celestia thought, smiling wryly while she picked up the books she had left in the alcove in her hurry. She floated them along while she leisurely made her way towards the biggest disruption of the peace the library had seen in quite a while, idly musing on what amused Twilight so very much.

Her answer came in the form of a pile of books underneath two slanted bookcases that were leaning against one another. A strange sight in an otherwise well-maintained library, but she might have passed it without another thought, were it not for the tiny purple horn sticking out of the pile. She stepped closer, channeling magic through her horn for some extra light.

“Twilight?”

The pile exploded, sending books flying in every direction when Twilight burst out of it. “Boo!” she yelled, giggling when Celestia inadvertently reared up, skittishly taking a few steps back. “I got you!” The filly said, continuing to giggle with a rosy blush on her cheeks.

Celestia had to deal with her fight or flight instincts before she could assess the threat. After she had calmed down and gotten control of her limbs back, she fixed her student with a stern look; or she would have had Twilight’s giggling not disappeared inside of the book pile along with the rest of her. Now that the shock had worn off, Celestia found herself giggling as well. She levitated the entire pile of reading material and sorted through it until she found a goofy smile that had a filly attached to it, booping her on the nose and saying: "Gotcha." Which only made Twilight laugh harder.

The filly treated the magic field Celestia had cast over the books like a swimming pool and tried her darndest to swim away from her. She laughed like any filly being chased on the school grounds, and seemed unconcerned with the fact that she wasn't actually getting anywhere.

Celestia shook her head with a smile and lowered the entire thing back to the ground. Twilight looked between her and the pile like she wanted to dive back in immediately, but Celestia had a different idea. “Twilight?” She stopped the filly with a hoof. “Why don’t you see how many books you can lift?”

“Hokay,” Twilight said with a hiccup before she lit up her horn, sticking out her tongue while a dozen and one books acquired a soft, shaky purple glow and rose up into the air. A remarkable improvement as far as Celestia was concerned, although a glance at Twilight’s face showed the filly still grinning stupidly, which made her realise something she should’ve seen long ago: Twilight was drunk. Or at the very least seriously inebriated.

Mead... She had half a mind to march right back to the kitchens and make it clear to the cook just what she thought of him serving alcohol to minors, not to mention the fact that he had done so to her student, which he knew she had taken as her student because of the filly’s extraordinary magical power.

In front of her, Twilight hiccuped again and dropped the books with a dull thud. Although she hadn’t moved any of them beyond picking them up off the ground, Celestia was still glad that she had asked. Maybe seeing what Twilight was capable of while unburdened by her usual diffidence was a good thing. “Your turn!” the filly said, turning around and putting her tiny forelegs against Celestia’s own. “Can you lift them all?”

The books would need to put back in their proper places eventually, and if Celestia didn’t put them back, the librarians would have to. What’s the harm? She grabbed hold of all of the books with her magic— three hundred and sixty-two to be exact — and began floating them over to the bookcases, which she also set aright.

“Awhh.”

One look at Twilight showed Celestia a disappointed filly who was watching all of her toys being taken away before she was done playing with them. Celestia went back on her original idea. Ever since her ‘fever dream’ she had been feeling more playful. It was tempered by the knowledge that her sister would never again be able to, but that again was pushed to the back of her mind by the simple fact that Twilight very much could. And she wants to.

First order of business—or play, rather— was to get Twilight to start smiling again, and Celestia knew of no better way than the phrase she had heard many a filly, and even some colts tell their parents during the Summer Sun Celebration: “I want to be a Princess when I grow up.” She pulled the books back from the shelves, and began arranging them in a geometrical pattern that roughly matched the outline of the castle, albeit at a much smaller scale. Just three hundred something books would never be enough, so she glanced out into the walkway, and, upon finding nopony in the direct vicinity, pulled books from other shelves as well.

Twilight watched the procession of books that floated down the hallway in single file in awe. The books stacked themselves on top of one another until the space that had been occupied by her book pile was instead home to a miniature book castle; though given that it wasn’t as big as the real deal, perhaps calling it a book fort would be a more apt description.

After the last few books had settled to recreate the tallest spire of the castle, Celestia stepped out of her gilded horseshoes, and took off her crown, respectively placing them in front of, and on top of, Twilight. “There,” she said, smiling down at the filly. “Now you can be the Princess of Books... or knowledge, I suppose.”

The crown was much too large for Twilight’s head and only barely held on, anchored by her horn before it could slip off entirely. The horseshoes were similarly too big, and the most Twilight could do after stepping into them was step out again, or glue them to her hooves with magic as indeed she did. Her eyes nevertheless sparkled with joy and excitement and she smiled widely. “As the Princess of Books, I hereby declare that court is in session!” she said loudly, giggling at the end of her sentence.

It was nothing like how Celestia treated her own court, or at least hadn't for as long as she could remember. A good thing, too, because it sounded so preposterous that it made her laugh out loud. With another subtle application of magic, she made a book walk over from the aisle next to them. "Your first supplicant has arrived, Milady," she proclaimed, bowing low to welcome her new literary overlord.

At first, the book said nothing, prompting Princess Twilight to look down at it and ask; "What brings you here, my faithful servant?"

"Oh, Princess," the book began in a shrill imitation of Celestia's voice. "It’s awful! The inkwell has run dry and now my brothers and sisters have nary enough ink to tend to their letter fields! The number-stock is dwindling and we can barely sustain ourselves, will you please help us?"

Rather than answer her paper subject, Twilight looked up at Celestia with badly-concealed confusion. "Princess?" she whispered as though she didn't want her book-subject to overhear, "What does 'nary' mean?" The fact that Celestia had simply spoken in a high-pitched voice to give the book expression, rather than use elaborate vocalization magic either hadn’t registered with the filly, or she simply didn’t care.

Ah, Twilight. Not Luna. It was a punch to the gut. Had she forgotten that it was not her sister she was playing with so easily? No, you've simply never played with anypony else. she drove the thoughts, and the dour feelings off with the mental equivalent of a pitchfork and played the part of an advisor for her student. "Nary, Milady, means ‘barely’ in old Equestrian."

Twilight nodded her thanks and turned back to the book in front of her, pushing her crown straight with a hoof. "Don't worry my faithful subject, I will send my servants to find a new inkwell! Your worries will soon be—"

"What in Celestia's name is going on over here?" A gruff voice interrupted her proclamation. An aging stallion in long, flowing, librarian robes rounded the corner, fixing Twilight with a stern look the moment he did. "What's this? Books aren't toys, young lady." He sized up the castle and snorted. "And they are certainly not to be used as building materials." He walked up to the book fortress, levitating books from the top of it as he went. Until he saw Celestia. “Princess!” The book he held in his magic fell to the floor and he bowed hastily. “I thought you’d already left.”

Celestia treated him to a kind smile. “That was the plan, yes, but I fear we got a little side-tracked.” She got up and stretched her legs before she began disassembling the fort, much to Twilight’s displeasure.

“But, Princess, I didn’t even get the chance to hold my first ball yet!”

Celestia shook her head softly. “Another time, Twilight,” she said, letting all the books she returned to their bookcases pass her so she could retrieve the books they had come to the library for from among them. To the librarian she said, “Sorry for the disturbance, and the mess. I’m afraid I don’t know the exact order in which these books go on the shelves...”

The librarian’s gruff demeanour had vanished upon seeing the Princess and he shook his head. “No problem, Princess. It’s what they pay me for.”

Celestia inclined her head in thanks. “Thank you. We’ll be going now. Come along, Twilight.”

After they had left the library—during which Twilight had stumbled and fallen on more than one occasion due to the golden accessories she was still wearing—Celestia had simply picked her up and carried her. Which seemed to suit the filly just fine. She rode on Celestia’s back with a wide smile, looking like she was the happiest pony in Equestria. The slightly crooked angle at which Celestia’s crown sat on her head only reinforced the image, although it earned them a lot of strange looks while they made their way through the castle halls.

“Mush!” Twilight said, giggling.

Celestia needed no encouragement to keep moving towards the destination she had in mind, and yet... She decided to go from a slow trot to a canter anyway, for no other reason than to make the filly on her back laugh. It had been forever since she had really done anything for herself, and even today, she wouldn’t have known where to begin if she had been left to her own devices. Twilight was the answer to that particular dilemma. She felt happiness bubble in her chest whenever she managed to make the filly laugh, and that was more than enough.

“Twilight?” she asked in between breaths. The laughter she was striving for was all the response she got. “Hang on.” And with that she went for broke, dashing through the castle at a speed unreachable for most ponies. She couldn’t reach her top speed within the confines of the castle, having to dodge and weave around the other inhabitants. They nevertheless reached the small unassuming door that served as a side entrance into the courtyard in a mere minute, Celestia almost having her rump touch the ground as she tried not to crash into said door.

The sudden stop would have thrown Twilight off of her back had she not held her student in place with her magic. It didn't stop the filly from jumping off when the magic faded and smiling up at Celestia with an excited blush covering the entirety of face. "Can we do that again?" She asked breathlessly, eyes sparkling with joy.

Celestia took a deep breath, noting again how out of shape she was compared to only a few hundred years past, before chuckling. "Perhaps," she said, pairing her words with a wink.

"Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" Twilight sang, dancing around Celestia in a way that would have seen her smack into the wall on her own, had Celestia's magic not stopped her a second time. Though it didn’t stop the filly from falling down on her rump anyway.

"Easy now, Twilight," Celestia said with a smile. She peeled the two books from the wall. In all of the excitement, they had been less fortunate than Twilight, and would likely need some care to keep them in prime condition. For now, however, she tucked them under one of her wings and opened the door.

“Where are we going, Princess?” Twilight asked sometime later while they walked through the courtyard.

For the longest time, the courtyard had simply been a paved square that served as both the place where the guard practiced their drills, as well as grounds for fairs and celebrations. It had been a fundamental part of the castle until just a little under thirty years ago. After a mistake by the Weather Pegasi, and the cracks in the paved stones from the resulting deluge, the entire area had been stripped and redesigned as a garden. Unlike the gardens surrounding the castles, where hedges formed a majority of the greenery, Celestia had insisted that the courtyard contain nothing more than flowers and the occasional tree.

It was still a little too early in spring for all the flowers to be in bloom, but the bluebells were already doing extremely well. With the rains from the previous day, she suspected that it wouldn’t be long before the court yard turned into a sea of color, and wondered if Twilight would like it. Luna would have...

“Princess!”

Celestia blinked. The mental image of Luna frolicking in the meadows ages before the castle had been been built faded, and she found herself staring at a patch of bluebells; and an annoyed purple filly. “I’m sorry, Twilight,” she said belatedly, “What did you say?”

“I asked where we are— were going, but you just stopped and stared at the flowers,” Twilight replied, sticking out her tongue to snatch a blue petal stuck to her cheek. “They aren’t even tasty.”

“Not all flowers are meant to be eaten, Twilight.” Celestia sighed and looked over the flowers, one of which was now missing. “We’re going to check up on a friend of mine.”

“Oh. Okay.” Twilight’s expression cleared up and she turned clockwise, looking at each of the entrances to the courtyard in turn. “Where are they?”

Celestia gave Twilight a nudge with her wing and set off towards the exit closest to the mountainside. “She, is this way.” After the redesign of the courtyard, the training grounds for the guards had been moved towards the mountain, and their barracks had followed some years later. Although not readily apparent from the outside, the castle didn’t end where the mountain began; the barracks and several storage areas had been hewn into the mountain itself, and there was talk of doing even more should the castle need to be expanded again.

They heard the guards long before they saw them. By the sounds of it, the drill sergeant was loudly unhappy with the performance of his recruits. But then... when were drill sergeants ever openly happy with ponies’ performance?

The dais overseeing the training grounds had been built because it was tradition, moreso than because there had been any reason to have it there. Even had she the inclination after everything ponies required of her throughout the day, the last time Celestia had concerned herself with the training of the troops had been when the manticores had all fled to Everfree. Right now, however, she was glad for it and took a seat on the cushioned throne that had been erected despite her objections that it was entirely unnecessary.

There were only about a dozen training guards, which made picking out Quarter Time easy. While the armor the guards generally wore were enchanted to turn their coats white and their hair blue as part of the uniform, they were considered too heavy for the new recruits to train in. Quarter Time, with her olive green coat, light blue mane, and timepiece on her flank, was near the front of the group, and looked to be the most lively of them all.

They were doing push-ups and basic Close Quarters Combat. Which should be right up her alley, Celestia thought with a smile. She let the synchronous shouts and motions lull her into a state of relaxation, letting her wings splay down to the floor, and watching the rest through half-lidded eyes.

She wasn’t quite asleep, however, and at least made an effort to keep her head upright, lest the guards think that their performances were so routine that they bored the Princess. Silly how much value they place on my every move...

Her relaxation didn’t last. Somepony stepped on one of her splayed-out wings, and the pain jolted her back to full alertness in an instant. She withdrew her wing and massaged it with a hoof while looking at the offending party with a barely concealed frown. She had been enjoying the rest.

The offending party, that being Twilight, had no inkling of the Princess’ frown, busy as she was imitating the guards in their various combat stances. Lacking a partner to spar with, the filly was striking air, but she was doing so with enthusiasm and a surprising amount of skill. It quickly became clear that she had seen at least some of the punches and kicks before, and Celestia wondered where she might have had occasion to learn such things.

“Twilight?”

“Yes, Princess?” The filly never took her eyes off of the guards, and her imitations faltered only slightly now that her focus was divided.

“Have you seen something like this before?”

“Uh huh.” Twilight overbalanced with a simple punch and almost smacked into the pavement. She took a moment to recover, and smiled at Celestia in the interim. “My BBBFF had to learn those attacks for his entrance exam,” she said before beginning anew. “He said that you’re supposed to practice against somepony, otherwise you’ll make mistakes when it counts, so he wanted me to be his sparring buddy.”

Celestia said nothing, merely watching her student try to perform the same moves the guards were with a bemused smile.

“But when mom found out, she said that we should stop because it could be dangerous, and Dad always agrees with mom, so BBBFF had to find somepony else to spar with.”

Celestia looked from her student, to the guards and back again. She had no idea what ‘BBBFF’ meant, but given that Twilight had talked about her parents in the same breath, she assumed it had something to do with Twilight’s brother or sister. “I see.” If their parents were against the practice, then she had few qualms about making Twilight stop, if only to prevent the filly from stepping on her wings again. “Why don’t you come sit down and tell me more about this ‘BBBFF’ of yours?”

The motions that Twilight had been performing slowed and she tilted her head, as if considering the proposal, though she was quick to make up her mind. “Okay,” she said, prancing over to Celestia and sitting down next to her, although she kept a respectful distance, that Celestia felt as a pain in her chest. She liked it better when Twilight sat right next to her.

“BBBFF means Big Brother Best Friend Forever, and he really is! He helped me with my magic and always makes time for me when I want to play, and...”

Celestia smiled, closed her eyes, and simply listened to the filly talk about her brother. She could do with a little bit more rest on her day off.

Tugging at the Web

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It was close to midnight by the time Celestia finally got back to the residential part of the castle. Had she known that her innocuous question would lead Twilight to talk her ears off about her 'Big Brother Best Friend Forever', she likely would have chosen her words more carefully, but there was no sense in crying over spilt milk. She had been told about the young stallion in extreme detail; what his cutie mark looked like; his caring nature; the fact that Twilight absolutely adored her big brother; and last but certainly not least, the fact that the filly had been cheating off of her brother’s example when she had created her everything-proof shield.

Celestia looked over the sleeping filly on her back with a tender smile. The question on why Twilight's brother wasn't with the rest of the recruits had been met with a frown, followed by a detailed account of how he wanted to become an officer and therefor had to go to the Academy. It seemed to have been a word for word retelling of what Twilight had been told, rather than a story her addled brain had come up with, but it was clear that Twilight wasn't at all happy about it.

Stepping over the threshold and into Twilight's room, she was immediately confronted by a mess the likes of which only a filly could make. Or perhaps a determined spy... She shook her head softly while remembering Mead’s joke and made her way over to the bed. She deposited the filly onto the bed near the pillow, which Twilight immediately confiscated and turned into her personal plush hug buddy. Celestia couldn’t help the thought that she now knew more about Twilight’s brother than she did about the filly herself, nor the subsequent worry that it played a part in the failures of her lessons so far.

After giving Twilight a reassuring nuzzle when the filly let out a distressed whine in her sleep, Celestia faced a moment of indecision. She’d heard a little about foals dealing with high-stress situations tended to have more nightmares, and she couldn’t think of anything more stressful than a near-death experience.

And not just for her, Celestia thought idly. Setting the sun had been particularly strenuous, and she was beginning to believe that breaking Twilight’s everything-proof shield had taken more out of her than she had given it credit for.

She put her doubts on hold when, from the corner of her eyes, she spotted a letter. So much had happened in the last few days that she had forgotten all about it. She’d picked it up before she remembered that it had been for Twilight specifically. I shouldn’t be intruding on her privacy like this... she thought, absently opening the letter regardless. If there was one thing she had trouble restraining, it was her curiosity.

What she read made her change her mind completely.

“Rook?!” The guard stuck his around the corner and Celestia only belatedly realised that she’d shouted. With a lingering look to ensure herself that Twilight hadn’t woken up, she swiftly stepped out of the room. At least, that was her intention. A painful yank on the base of her skull was followed by a yelp she couldn't quite stifle in time. Gingerly turning her head, she found that the source of her newest problem once again lay with Twilight. Specifically, the filly's hooves, which had gotten ahold of some of her mane. Guided by a primal, subconscious, desire for warmth and safety, Twilight was trying to pull more of Celestia's mane towards herself, unfortunately, with the rest of her still attached. Slowly, patiently, Celestia pried her students forelegs open, and extricated her mane from them before making a quick escape.

Outside the room, she turned to her guard with an urgent look. “I have some important arrangements to make, but I don’t want to leave Twilight by herself tonight. Could you watch over her and bring her to me if she happens to wake up?”

Rook nodded. “As you wish, Princess. Where will you be?”

“First I need to talk to Mead about dinner plans for tomorrow, and Sunny needs to—No, wait...” Celestia closed her eyes and tried to order her thoughts, which didn’t come as easily as it should have. They had been thrown in disarray by the letter, and she felt unusually antsy because of it. “I’ll be going down to the cells to visit the reporter first, and if I’m not there, I’ll probably be in discussion with Sunny.”

“Consider it done.” Rook and Aegis shared a look. Aegis nodded in response to some unspoken question.

The meaning of it was lost on Celestia. Her head was too full of ideas, worries, and ponderings.

Twilight,
I promised myself I wouldn’t worry, but I really think I should come to see you. I heard that you were having trouble at the castle, and I need to know that you’re alright.
I have an evening off the day after tomorrow so I’ll be dropping by the castle then. Your father sadly won’t be able to make it. You know how it is with his class trips. At any rate, could you make sure that the guards know to let me in? Perhaps it’s better if you showed this letter to the princess. Could you do that for me?
Oh, and make sure you’re eating well. Actually, I’ll be bringing along dinner, so make sure you’re not too full. I’m making all of your favorites, and I’ll even bring almond-cookies but somepony needs to store those for you. I don’t want to hear about you eating yourself sick like last time.
Make sure that you keep up with your studies, but don’t overdo it! Make sure that you brush your teeth, and remember what I said about listening to the princess.
Love, mom.
P.S. Make sure you give this letter to the princess before you get back to your books. It’s very important! Don’t just put it aside and forget about it!

The most worrying revelations in the letter were the ones not explicitly stated. Rereading the thing for a second, and then a third time, did not shed any additional light on precisely how Twilight’s mother had learned about anything that had happened in the castle, or to Twilight specifically, but it was clear that the mother was worried about her daughter’s well being. No doubt she was going to have to assuage the mare’s fears and assure her that Twilight was in the best of hooves. The problem lay in the fact that she herself wasn’t entirely sure that was the case.

Focus, Celestia, she chided herself mentally. The mare won’t be arriving until tomorrow evening. You have more than enough time to prepare, and other things to deal with.

“Princess?”

Celestia glanced back over her shoulder to find that Aegis had come to a halt at the intersection and was looking at her worriedly.

“Princess, the cells are this way.”

She stared at him for a couple of seconds before nodding and starting towards him. “Indeed they are.” She passed him without another word and resumed her trek towards the lower levels of the castle.

“Are you okay, Princess?”

A sideways glance revealed that Aegis’ worries hadn’t gone anywhere, and Celestia was quick to smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me, Aegis. I will be fine.”

He grunted softly and looked straight ahead. “Of course. Forgive me for doubting you, Princess.”

She smiled. “Forgive me for giving you cause to worry. I understand your concerns, but as a princess I cannot simply take a break whenever I am tired or distracted.”

“Doctor’s orders notwithstanding?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She huffed audibly. “I did take it easy yesterday, and it’s caused no end of trouble for me today. It seems like the world itself is determined to keep me running around in circles.”

“If only you’d had some ponies you could assign to worry about such things. Then you could rest and recover,” Aegis replied dryly.

Celestia followed him silently, finding that she did not have a satisfactory reason for not having appointed ponies to do just that. Surely a more pyramid-style system of government, where she would only need to worry about the biggest and most threatening problems, would do wonders for her schedule?

She snorted softly. If only it were that easy. Giving ponies power only leads to their abuse of it. The council proved that, even if theirs was merely benign neglect. The thought made her wince. They weren't the only ones who could be accused of neglect... and with that little nugget of information, her insight told her who was likely behind Twilight’s mother’s sudden knowledge. Somepony white, with a blonde mane, terrible dress sense, and a character that would send Manticores running for the hills. So how do I refute claims from a worried mother when I don’t even know which ones she’s going to come at me with?

A dank and musty smell permeated the next breath she took, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Looking for an answer would have to wait. They had arrived at the dungeons.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” she told Aegis before stepping through the portal. Only to come to a halt two steps later after the guard followed her.

“Princess?”

She looked over her shoulder. Aegis looked… antsy? No, antsy wasn’t quite it, but something had most definitely gotten under his skin. “What is it, Aegis?”

He opened his mouth a few times before closing it again, looking more annoyed each time. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“Princess...” He grunted in frustration and gestured down the stairs that lead to the dungeons. “This guy implied that we as guards couldn’t be able to prevent an assassin from harming you in front of a court full of ponies. Worse, he implied that we wouldn’t even know if there was one!”

Celestia placed a hoof on his withers before he worked himself up to an angry outburst. “Calm down, Aegis. You and I both know that implying something doesn’t make it true.”

“I know, Princess, but other ponies might not be as well informed.”

Celestia arched an eyebrow. “And you think that attacking a prisoner will somehow make them realise their mistake?”

“I...” Aegis closed his mouth with a snap and shook his head. “My apologies, Princess. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Celestia smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I understand where you are coming from.” She twisted her neck trying to get a kink out of it before continuing her descent of the stairs. “Come along. Despite what I’ve said, I’m not about to go easy on him. You might have some questions or insights that I haven’t thought of.” Bringing along anypony who was as obviously invested in the fate of a prisoner one was about to interrogate was never the best of ideas. It was a mistake she had made before, and which had cost her some valuable intelligence in the past. The fact that those days had been a lot more volatile than the present, and the fact that anypony alive currently couldn’t remember any semblance of its brutality, were the only reasons she even considered bringing him along.

The castle dungeons were small, all told. Just shy of fifty cells, which were almost claustrophobic in their design, and though a combination of torches and magical crystals had been installed in key areas, most of them remained shrouded in darkness.

Celestia nodded to the warden and waved him back down when he got up in salute. “At ease, Skyward,” she told the pegasus. “We're just here for a talk with our guest.. Has he caused any trouble?”

The pegasus scratched himself behind his ear with an uncertain frown. "Who is he, Your Majesty?"

“His name is…” Celestia cast her thoughts back to the courtroom. “Actually, I don't think I ever caught his name. A stallion, average height, a bit on the lanky side. Bright yellow coat…” She let her sentence peter out when she didn't see the telltale signs of recognition on Skyward's face. “How many ponies do you have in here?”

Skyward cast a quick glance at a ledger on his desk. “Sixty-three, Your Majesty. I've had to put several ponies in a cell together since the disturbance in the courtroom.”

“Sixty-three? How did that happen?”

“I gave the order for further troublemakers to be detained for a fortnight, Princess,” Aegis said, stepping forward and nodding to his comrade in arms. “Seems like there were quite a few of them.”

“That seems a little excessive. Have they been any trouble since?”

Skyward shook his head. “A few of them have been complaining about their accommodations, but most of them have been model prisoners.”

“The guy we took in had something along the lines of spilled ink as a cutiemark, what’s he been like?”

“Oh, is that the one you were talking about?” Skyward snorted. “Guy’s in cell number seven. His name is Ink Blot. Haven’t heard a peep from him. Seems like he’s the only guy that’s actually happy to be here.”

“I’d like a word with our happy guest,” Celestia said. “As for the rest of them, I think that the well-mannered ones have learned their lesson. You can let them go around noon tomorrow, which should also solve the little housing problem we’re having.” She looked at the hallway leading down to the cells, hiding a wince when a flash of pain traveled down her spine. “The ones that were complaining... let’s have them sit out the entire fortnight to consider how their actions affect others.”

“Consider it done, Princess. Do you need me to show you the cell?”

“I believe we’ll manage, thank you.”

The warden saluted once more and sat back down behind his desk while Celestia and Aegis moved towards the jail cells.

Celestia hadn’t been down here in decades, with good reason. The castle’s dungeons saw little use, and the occasions she had to speak with a prisoner directly were few and far between. That was the advantage of a castle guard, after all. The smell was... unpleasant. She knew for a fact these cells were regularly cleaned and had all the facilities needed for the basic necessities of life, but there was only so much to be done about the fact that the dungeons were literally carved out of the mountain.

Unlike the insinuations made by the stories, the dungeons were well maintained and generally clean. Or at least, as clean as a dungeon could possibly get. But that wasn’t to say that it was a pleasant stay for those incarcerated there. Some smells simply clung to the surroundings no matter how much the stain that caused it was scrubbed away, and with only a layer of hay as bedding, the cells weren’t exactly comfortable.

She could hear a few of the troublemakers down various halls, ponies rattling cups against bars or calling out their guard to bring various comforts they’d forfeited the rights to, albeit temporarily. Along the path to the prisoner she wished to speak with, she was accosted several times by ponies demanding she release them, one even threatening to contact influential family if she didn’t comply. She made note of his cell number, deciding this one had earned a little more time to cool his temper. He backed away eventually, but only after Aegis gave him a stern look

At last they arrived at the appropriate cell number, and found a stallion who was whistling a cheery tune while he busily scribbled away in a shabby notebook. A notebook that Aegis swiftly relieved him of much to the consternation of the stallion.

“Hey, what gives?”

“Quiet,” Aegis barked. “The Princess wants to talk to you.”

Celestia shot her bodyguard a sharp look before regarding the stallion. Even in the dim light he seemed a little rough around the edges, with a mane that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a long time, and a coat that wasn't much better off. He was otherwise good-natured, however, and even bowed to her. “Never expected you to show up yourself, Your Highness,” he said, his smile turning into a smug grin. “Didn’t figure myself a big enough fish.”

“What made you think that making such accusations were a good idea?” Celestia asked him in turn, ignoring his off-hooved comments.

The stallion shrugged. “Bits. Somepony paid me good money to do it, and with a picture like that... how could I not?” He puffed out his chest with pride. “I run Equestria’s premier gossip column after all, and as a reporter, I consider it my duty to investigate whether such claims have some truth to them!”

“So you truly believe an eight-year-old could be an assassin?” Aegis asked him, with a voice mired in stumped disbelief.

Even in the dark, it was easy to make out Ink Blot's nodding. “Completely. I’ve seen stranger things happen. Hay... it wouldn’t even be the first time!”

“Who paid you?” Celestia asked, cutting through the useless banter.

The stallion shrugged. "I don't know, and even if I did... A good reporter never reveals his sources."

“You claiming to be a reporter is an insult to everypony in the profession,” Aegis sneered. “And another thing, the Guard doesn't appreciate you implying that we would be unable to identify and neutralize a threat in our midst. We are not as incompetent as you make us out to be."

“But you are!” Ink Blot stepped up to the bars, his smile replaced by a look of focused intensity. “I’ve done exhaustive research into the subject, and learned that the Royal Guard is less than a shadow of its former self! According to several highly reliable sources, none of the guard have seen any combat for at least the last three generations. Any actual invasion would likely end up with the castle being overrun within the hour! And even discounting that…” He paused to give Celestia a respectful nod. “The Princess herself is more than capable of meeting any and all threats to her own life, or Equestria in general for that matter, head on. It would eliminate the need for any of you, and save hundreds of taxpayer bits to boot!”

Aegis stepped forward, anger visible in every one of his muscles. Celestia was faster, stepping in between the two and glaring at the self proclaimed journalist. “Even if any of that were true, Mr. Ink Blot – and let me say first that you show an extraordinary lack of understanding on the state of the guard, the country, and myself with this claim – do you really think the solution is to pin the entirety of our defense and civil protection to a single individual? That strikes me as hopelessly naive at best, at worst, it’s downright idiocy.”

“Hmmm.” The look of focused intensity faded from Ink Blot’s face and he instead regarded the ceiling with a thoughtful one. “Perhaps not,” he admitted at length. “Though that doesn’t mean that the Guard we know now is adequately equipped to deal with any real problems.”

“That is more speculation on your part,” Celestia replied smoothly. “I trust my guards with my life, and considering that they'll be the ones putting their life on the line if something does happen, I think you should as well. They’ve sworn to protect others, and that alone should earn them some measure of respect, not derisive gossip.”

Ink blot smiled and shrugged. “Perhaps. But that is the nature of gossip. We challenge and scrutinise everything. That’s my job.” He stretched and looked around his cell. “Speaking of which, Princess, do you think you could get me out of this cell? I was hoping to be home by the weekend. I have a major article to write and deadlines don’t wait for anypony.”

“No. She’s not going to—”

Celestia held up a hoof and shook her head at Aegis, promptly making the stallion shut his mouth. “Perhaps,” she told Ink Blot. “If you can tell me who hired you...”

Ink Blot shook his head. “A reporter never—”

“Reveals his sources. We know,” Aegis cut in, glaring daggers at him.

Celestia straightened up and nodded at the captive stallion. “Then I do not believe there is anything I can do for you, and you will have to sit out the entirety of your three month sentence.”

“Three months?!” Ink Blot shrieked. “But I'm a reporter! I've done nothing but present the facts! I've done nothing wrong!”

Celestia regarded him coolly. “That's not how I see it. Not only did you disrupt court and spout some third hoof supposition as fact, you also incited anger and in some cases even violence in ponies; deliberately put the life of a young filly at risk with your statements; and slandered the name of your sovereign ruler by proxy. By implying—no, by outright telling ponies that my guards are all too stupid to recognise a threat that is literally right under their noses, you are also implying that I am so foolish as to allow them to become so complacent.” She leveled a grim smile at Ink Blot and shook her head softly. “In short, whether you are a reporter or not is irrelevant. I believe that you have a lot to answer for, and you may consider yourself lucky that I don't have more charges brought against you.”

“But I'm a reporter…” Ink Blot muttered, a shocked look on his face.

Celestia tried to present a sympathetic smile for the stallion, but found that she had no sympathy to spare. “I don't doubt that claiming to have done things for journalistic reasons has afforded you considerable leeway in the past, but I'm afraid it won't help you here.” When the stallion did not respond, Celestia righted herself and said, “I suggest you use the time to consider the ramifications of your actions. Perhaps the experience will give you a greater appreciation for your job.” She left Ink Blot to his thoughts after that, making her way back to the dungeon entrance with Aegis close behind her.

“Any luck, Princess?” Skyward asked when they came back to the guard station.

Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Our guest was not in a sharing mood.”

Aegis snorted. “Reporters like him ‘don’t reveal their sources’.”

“I want you to keep him in here for two months,” Celestia continued, ignoring her bodyguard’s remark. “Hopefully he’ll learn a lesson on endangering other ponies.”

Skyward saluted. “Consider it done, Princess.”

The hallways seemed emptier than ever before, though that was likely because of the late hour. Or it’s simply because I’m exhausted, Celestia told herself with an inaudible chuckle. Between a morning filled with a sea of paperwork, breaking Twilight’s impenetrable shield and now the letter, it was hard to believe that only a day had passed.

Aegis had so far followed along silently, but from his expression she could already extrapolate the question brewing in stallion’s mind before he gave voice to it.

“Princess? Why tell Skyward to keep that... reporter in for two months? I thought the idea was three months, if not more.”

Celestia did not respond immediately, rounding a corner that put her on the quickest route to her chambers on autopilot; her attention divided between a headache that had been a long time coming and his words. That’s a good question. Why didn’t I make it longer? she mused. Maybe because he really hadn’t done anything wrong? Am I getting soft in my old age? She chuckled softly.

“Princess?”

“Because I want to find out who hired him,” she replied belatedly. “If I tell him that I’ve decided to reduce his sentence, he will hopefully be more forthcoming with information.”

“And if not?”

“We’ll send somepony to follow him, and see if whoever it was that hired him tries to contact him again.”

It was only when the sun-emblazoned doors of her room came into view that Celestia realised she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. Sleep was important, but there were other things, more important things she would need to take care of before going to bed became an option. With a stifled groan she turned to Aegis and said; “Aegis, I am so tired I can barely think straight. Could you canter down to the kitchens and inform Mead that we’ll be having a guest tomorrow?”

Aegis nodded and paired it with a salute afterwards. “As you wish, Princess.”

Celestia watched him take off back the way they had come, and continued on her way to her chambers. She wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest. Before she had even passed Rook, however, she remembered something. “Aegis!”

The guard came to a halt at the end of the hallway and looked back at her. “Yes, Princess?”

“Tell Mead that I would like to have tonight’s dinner to be delivered to my room.”

“Will do, Princess.” And with that he was gone, leaving Celestia with just her headache.

“Are you alright, Princess?” came the question when she clutched a hoof to her head. A reminder that she wasn’t completely alone in the hallways.

“I... I will be,” she said softly, summoning a smile for her concerned guard, though her heart wasn’t in it. "It’s just been a very long day."

Rook smirked tiredly, in the way that an old war veteran might. “The only easy day was yesterday, Princess.”

Celestia’s smile became a little more real. “I guess you’re right.” She stifled a yawn. "And I’m afraid I’ll need some sleep given that tomorrow will be even more arduous than today was. Wake me if Twilight—"

Rook saluted in time with the first words of her sentence. “As ordered, Princess.”

Celestia was grateful to have such a dedicated pair of bodyguards, and she had to fight the urge to embrace him in a bonecrushing hug. Instead, she nodded at him, and even made it into a small curtsey, which she hoped he wouldn’t take offense to. “Thank you, Rook. Goodnight.”

“Good Night, Princess.”

The doors to her room swung open silently and she kept her posture tall and proud for as long as they remained open. After they shut behind her under pressure of her magic, however, her stride became a stumble. She kicked off her horseshoes and took off her crown, placing it on the floor next to the bed before stepping up onto the thing and letting herself fall into the soft embrace of the plush pillows and comforter. Her mind reached the land of dreams mere moments after her head had found her pillow.

She knew something was off from the moment she woke up. Celestia blearily opened her eyes and, after finding nothing amiss in her immediate vicinity, dragged herself upright, opening her wings and made a few flapping motions before tucking them back at her sides after which she stretched each of her legs in turn. It felt like she had only slept for a few minutes, and wondered what could have woken her up, before wondering if it was at all possible to institute a law against waking ponies up early.

A polite but insistent knocking at the doors, followed by a muted: “Princess?” answered that particular question. She briefly considered telling them to go away and head back to bed. The only thing that stopped her from doing exactly that was the reminder of the orders she had given Rook.

His tentative call didn’t sound urgent, so she took advantage of the opportunity to behave like a normal pony. She yawned and shook herself before gathering her horseshoes and crown, and then stepped up to the doors.

The uneasy feeling returned when she looked into the hallway. It was too bright. Far too bright for midnight, or even morning. In an almost subconscious gesture, Celestia nodded to Rook in greeting while testing her connection to the sun, finding it difficult to believe what her eyes were telling her. Sure enough, she quickly found that her charge was nearing its zenith, which could only mean two things:

Either she had overslept and raised the sun in her sleep, or Twilight had finally figured out how it worked. The later was still unlikely, so for the sake of her sanity, she went with the former.

Which was still more problematic than it had any right to be. More sleep should have been a good thing for her, yet having it manifest itself in such a way would give certain ponies the impression of weakness. Aside from the fact that she did actually feel like she hadn’t slept at all, there were undoubtedly ponies that would try to exploit anything perceived weakness. Like Blueblood. Stifling a groan, she turned to Rook and asked, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Rook, who looked like he hadn’t moved from his post in hours, had an undeniable smirk on his face, and she could have sworn she caught the normally stoic guard stifling a laugh.“My orders were to wake you if Twilight Sparkle had a nightmare,” he said, quickly schooling his expression back to one of consummate professionalism. “For the record, Aegis tried to wake you several hours ago, but after the hailstorm of pillows, and Your Highness’ expressed displeasure, we were unwilling to press the issue.”

Celestia blinked at him. “I... talked in my sleep?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Though I would say ‘shouted’ is more appropriate.”

“And Aegis?” Celestia asked, after she found Aegis’ usual spot devoid of the stallion in question.

“Aegis is accompanying Twilight on an errand.” The smirk returned. “She was quite insistent, and given what happened last time, we didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave her by herself.”

Celestia idly scanned the hallway while she mulled over Rook’s response, and found something that, unlike Aegis, shouldn’t have been there. A trio of lines, blue, red, and yellow respectively, stretched out from under her hooves and traversed the length of the hallways before disappearing around different corners. “Rook?”

Rook bit his lip and coughed. “Yes, Princess?”

“Did April Foals roll around while I wasn’t looking?”

“It’s still a few months off, Princess.”

Celestia nodded. “Then whose idea was it to paint the hallways, and why?”

“It was your student’s idea, Your Majesty,” Rook replied with an outright smile. “As for the reason... I think you should ask her that yourself.”

Celestia looked back at her soft, inviting, bed, still visible through the open doors before closing them with a sigh. Despite everything, a loose haze of exhaustion still clung to her mind, and she resolved to take a vacation at some point. A proper one. Just as soon as she made sure that the country wouldn’t fall apart if she took a leave of absence. “Very well. Lead the way.”

They made their way through the hallways, following the brightly colored lines, coming across several ponies who seemed to be just as curious about the new additions to the castle floors as Celestia was. The lines lead them all the way to the main foyer where they were joined by the other colors that made up a rainbow to create a clumsy, yet surprisingly detailed circle of intermingling colors in a way that reminded Celestia of the rainbow centrifuges in Cloudsdale. Each of the colors seemed to add to its design before going their separate ways, and it was there that Rook came to a halt turning to Celestia with a small smile.

Celestia, for her part, looked around but saw no sign of either her student or Aegis. Just an endless stream of ponies all going about their daily business, and a small group which had followed them like the usual suspects, but which she didn’t recognise as such. The foyer was always a bustle, like a point where seven different rivers crossed and exchanged all that they carried with them. But despite the many ponies moving about, she didn’t catch sight of the ponies she was looking for. “I don’t see either of them, Rook,” she said eventually.

Rook shooed the few ponies who were starting to gather around Celestia away, and said: “I’m not sure which area of the castle they are working on, Princess, but with any luck, they should return here before long.”

Fortune was with them, and they didn’t have to wait long before a small cacophony made its way towards them from the hallway that held the red line. Half a dozen ponies were all animatedly talking with one another, though Celestia did not see either Aegis, nor Twilight amongst them. At least, not until the group reached them.

“Princess!”

Twilight bounded up to her with a big smile. Or at least, she assumed the filly was Twilight. She had the right height, build, and mane-style, but her coat and mane were covered in so many different colors of paint that it was hard to tell what their original colors had been. Her tail was mostly blue with a few green spots; her fetlocks were stiff with yellow; her flanks were obscured beneath a truly impressive amount of red; and her barrel held a mixture of all of those. The only part of her that was still somewhat recognisable were her cheeks, who had only been splashed with a little purple, and even that was hard to tell due to the blush of excitement the filly sported.

Aegis was not far behind, and he looked like even more of a clown than Twilight did. While the enchantment that served as part of the guard uniform turned a guard's coat white and mane blue, it did nothing to hide dirt —or in this case paint— that clung to it. His face was a colorful potpourri of reds and yellows, mixing into a dirty orange around his muzzle; his barrel was mostly blue, and the rest of him seemed to have gotten the worse end of a fight with a green paint bucket. Most remarkably, however, was his smile. It was as big, if not bigger than Twilight’s, and made him look like a young colt, rather than the professional guard he was supposed to be.

“Princess?”

Celestia blinked, pulling her thoughts back from Aegis to focus on Twilight, affecting a smile to cover her inattention. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Twilight?”

The filly pointed at the doors that lead to the courtroom. “Will you help paint the last part?” she asked, floating over a small basin filled with paint over to Celestia before smiling at her expectantly.

Celestia eyed the basin critically. It held the seven primary colors of the rainbow, which curiously did not mingle with one another in the slightest. She had an inkling of what purpose the colored lines served, but she wanted to make sure before indulging Twilight. “Why don’t you tell me what it is we’re painting first?” she asked gently, schooling her expression into a neutral smile.

“Castle-navigational-lines,” Twilight replied enthusiastically. “Color coded so that everypony can easily get to where they need to be without having to devote time to remembering the route they’re supposed to take.” The filly spun in place and began pointing at all the different colors. “The yellow line is for you, Princess. It’s the one that leads to your room, and mine. And then the red one is...”

Celestia arched an eyebrow at Aegis and his appearance while Twilight rattled on. “She was very determined when she told us about her plan, Princess,” he said sheepishly. “I thought it best to help her, or I think we would have risked her doing it by herself.”

“Where did she get the paint?” she asked softly, keeping one ear cocked towards Twilight and her explanation.

Aegis nodded towards the entrance into the underbelly of the castle. “It seems she found a merchant selling paint down in The Promenade.”

Celestia blinked. “When did she get a chance to...?”

Aegis merely shrugged and shook his head.

“And lastly, the purple one leads to the observatory,” Twilight declared, before looking up at Celestia again. “So... will you help?”

Celestia's first instinct was to explain to the filly that she would have to talk to her council and come to an agreement before anything could be done. Just before she opened her mouth to say as much, however, she realised that she no longer had a council. Better yet, she had nopony that she had to cajole into agreeing with her. "Of course I will," she said instead, turning the warm feeling in her stomach into a genuine smile.

She took the color-coordinated basin from Twilight's magic and, after looking around for a matching brush in vain, stole the one Aegis had on him. Drawing a perfectly straight line towards court took a bit of doing, but it felt more satisfying than ten years of bureaucracy combined. At the end, she even caught herself making little flourishes with the brush at the end of each stroke, and after punctuating the line with a circle, she looked back at Twilight and the others, with a happy, almost giddy pride.

Twilight all but bounced to her side, looking at the line with an awed smile. “Your line is so pretty, Princess.” Her gaze then drifted off to look at the lines she had painted herself and her smile faded. “I wish mine were that pretty.”

“It’s okay, Twilight,” Celestia replied with a soft laugh “If you want to learn how to paint, we will simply have to work on that as well.”

“Okay!” the filly replied enthusiastically. “Can we begin right now?”

“Princess!”

Two depressingly familiar groups of earth ponies ran up to her, each bowing before her while glaring at members of the other, while Celestia's good mood drained as fast as they arrived.

"Princess, good thing we caught you,” a lean mare from the first group began. “Sneaky Steps was trespassing on our land again. He was trying to steal more of our crops!”

“I was not!” An adolescent colt from the other group yelled. “I was at home all night!” The second group all agreed with him to various degrees and both groups looked at Celestia expectantly before the next accusation was sent flying.

“Please, Princess,” the lean mare said. “Can you sort this out for us? That mare that runs court nowadays has no idea what she’s doing.”

Part of being a good ruler was knowing when to leverage a victory in one area into a helping hoof in another. And while it certainly wasn't risk free, an idea on how to lend Sunny's regency over court some legitimacy in the eyes of the public was the first thing that came to her. She held in a sigh and looked at the two instigators earnestly. “I’m afraid I can't help you. I was just about to—”

“But you're the princess! You always know what to do!” a voice from the crowd interrupted her.

She softly gnashed her teeth but managed to keep her voice level, if not pleasant. “I was just about to petition court myself. You should do the same. That mare you’re talking about is more capable than you give her credit for.” She didn’t wait for a reply of any kind, but beckoned Twilight to follow her before opening the doors to court with her magic and stepping inside.

Much to her surprise, the courtroom was only about half filled with ponies. A far cry from the packed-to-the-brim state of being it had when she held court herself. Sunny Scrolls was listening to a stallion explain why his small mercantile business really needed government funding, so Celestia simply sat down amongst the other supplicants, which was much to their surprise.

“Princess? What are we doing?” Twilight asked after she too had sat down. The combination of youthful restlessness and the fact that she couldn’t see what was going on made her seating temporary at best, and before long she began pacing back and forth, trying to see what was going on in the center of the room.

“We are going to ask Sunny what she thinks of your idea,” Celestia replied, treated the filly to what she hoped was a calming smile.

Twilight frowned. “But why? You’re the princess!” She looked over at the dais and the half-asleep mare on top of it before redirecting her gaze to the floor. “And Miss Sunny doesn’t like anything I do...”

“That’s not true, Twilight. I agree that she can be a little strict when dealing with things she has no experience with, but she means well.” From the look on Twilight’s face, she didn’t quite understand what Celestia meant. That was alright, however; it wasn’t as though it was important, and the notion Sunny had been listening to was summarily dismissed once the stallion began repeating himself.

“Next supplicant,” Sunny droned in an already frighteningly experienced, and exhausted, voice.

Celestia looked around and found that all of the other ponies present were looking at her. She cleared her throat and stepped forward, Twilight following along a few steps behind. “Regent, I’ve come before you today to call attention to a brilliant idea that should ease navigation, both for inhabitants, as more importantly visitors to the castle.”

Sunny looked up from the scrolls she had been perusing at Celestia’s proclamation, and immediately blanched. “P-Princess?” She hopped off of the dais and closed the distance between them before softly asking: “What are you doing? You promised that you wouldn’t come to court unless I asked you to.”

Celestia lowered her head a little, just enough that they could speak without being overheard by the public and smiled innocently. “I promised I wouldn’t take over without being asked; I never said anything about trying to help in other ways.”

Sunny narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything more. “Humpf.” She returned to the dais and sat down, a lot more alert, and a lot more like the regent Celestia hoped she would be. “Very well, explain your brilliant idea to me, if you would.”

“Actually,” Celestia replied, taking half a step back, leaving Twilight standing in front of her. “Twilight Sparkle came up with the idea, and I would rather let her explain it.” She got a dirty look from Sunny, and a scared one from Twilight, but simply lowered her head to the filly and smiled encouragingly. “Don’t be afraid, Twilight, just tell her about your idea.”

The positive reinforcement didn’t do a whole lot for Twilight’s nervousness, but she nevertheless stepped forward. “I uhm... I came to live at the castle a few days ago, but... uh... I kept... I kept getting lost. It was very annoying, and I thought that if I just painted lines on the floor, I wouldn’t get lost anymore and... I uh...”

“She came up with the brilliant idea of having different colored lines leading to different places of importance within the castle,” Celestia finished the sentence for her. “I wanted your approval on the matter, since she began her project without realizing she should ask permission for such a thing.”

Sunny cast a furtive glance to the doors behind them before asking, “So you mean to say that she has already finished her project?”

“Not as such, but several hallways have already gotten a few helpful lines,” Celestia answered her, adding in another deferential nod when she said: “I am very fond of the idea, but I will take full responsibility for her actions and will personally help clean it up if you think that such an execution is less than desirable.”

Their conversation, if one could call it that, fell silent after that, although that by no means meant that the room was silent. All around them were murmurs and softly held conversations, speculating about the Princess’ reasoning and what it meant that she, as ruler, would run her decisions by somepony that was technically in her employ. In short, it was exactly what Celestia had been hoping for. Now if only the second gamble pays off as well... she thought while looking at the mare on the dais.

“While I am not quite sure if such a thing is a matter to bring to the courtroom,” Sunny began after a prolonged period of silence. “I think that such an idea would be beneficial to the castle and to its inhabitants, and see no reason to oppose it, on the condition that it is done professionally.”

In the silence that followed, Twilight looked back at Celestia with an uncertain look, which Celestia replied to with a wink and a smile. “Consider it done, Regent Scrolls.”

Twilight was already at the door before Celestia had even turned around, apparently happy to be leaving the room in which she was being scrutinised by ponies once again. As they left, activity in the courtroom picked up, as one by one the entire room found their voices, and with that, their requests. Where previously they had to be goaded into doing so, now they had to be organized by the guards lest they trample each other. It was just like Celestia remembered it, only now that she had made it happen, she wasn’t entirely sure Sunny would appreciate it.

Redrawing the lines to be straight and more professional was going to take more work than Celestia would've thought possible. That Twilight wouldn't draw the straightest of lines was something she had thought a given, but surely it should have been a little less crooked than the mess she saw before her. From a very reasonable start at the center of the given hallway, the line went back and forth like a drunken sailor in a rocky storm, to the point where she wondered how much of an influence Aegis had actually had on the overall execution.

“Sorry, Princess,” Twilight's voice came from in between her forelegs. “I knew it wasn't really straight, but my brush broke, so I had to use my tail.” She flicked her tail back and forth, drawing attention to the colors that had soaked through most of it.

“Why didn't you use Aegis' brush?”

Twilight giggled. “I couldn't.”

Celestia quirked an eyebrow. “Couldn't?”

“He was being weird,” Twilight answered with another giggle. She stepped in front of Celestia and turned sideways, showing off her withers. It required a second look to really make out, but when Celestia did, she finally noticed the strange little smiley face that adorned Twilight's coat. “Whenever I wasn't working, and even one time when I was, he would chase me around and try to paint all kinds of weird things.” She smiled. “On my coat rather than the walls.”

Celestia returned the smile with one of her own and shook her head. “Well, at least you didn’t make a mess of the walls then.” There was a moment of silence, during which Twilight’s smile turned sheepish, and that in turn made a cold chill run down Celestia’s spine. “You didn’t make a mess of the walls... did you?” she asked hesitantly, hoping against hope that the answer would be a resounding ‘no’.

“Not if we don’t go to the observatory?" Twilight replied with an increasingly guilty-looking smile.

A mess of the most extravagant proportions unfolded itself in Celestia’s mind’s eye. If both Twilight and Aegis had returned looking like they would fit into an extremely wacky circus better than in everyday castle life, she shuddered to think about what the area they had ‘fought’ in looked like. She cast a glance at Aegis through narrowed eyes and motioned for him to take the lead before turning back to Twilight. “Then it is probably best if we start there, wouldn’t you agree?”

From the look on Twilight's face, it was quite easy to infer that she would rather not, but she nevertheless followed along obediently when Celestia set a course for what would no doubt be a disaster area.

After a brisk trot, already made easier by the purple line that Twilight had explained led to the observatory, they came to to site of what must have been a truly epic paint battle. The walls were covered in so many a color that it resembled Cloudsdale's color-research lab more than a simple hallway. The two statues on opposite sides of the hall had respectively been painted blue and yellow, evidence of them having been used a as cover; there was a stained glass window which was either a picture of a horrific monster too hideous for the mind to comprehend, or it hadn't been stained glass before; and even the line itself had been obscured by reds and greens.

Twilight at least had the decency to look guilty in the face of the mess she’d made. Aegis' face, by contrast, split into the biggest grin Celestia had ever seen on him.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself then?” she asked him none too subtly. "Depending on your answer, I may punish you in accordance with the mess you've helped cause."

Aegis stiffened for the briefest of moments, before he saluted. The smile never left his face, however. “Yes, Princess,” he replied without a shred of remorse. "I enjoyed myself immensely."

She conjured a mop, a bucket, and a cleaning apron from a nearby storage closet, and floated the lot over to him. "Very well. You may begin your penance immediately." Aegis donned the apron with only the barest hint of an embarrassed blush when Twilight giggled at his appearance, and set to work straight away.

Satisfied, Celestia turned around to the second perpetrator. Twilight was looking around in earnest, half of the giggle that Aegis'd had to endure still lingering on her face. “Do I have to clean up as well?” she asked, sounding surprisingly less upset by the notion than Celestia would’ve expected from a nine-year old.

“Yes, Twilight. Your idea for colored lines in the castle is a very good one, but...” Celestia indicated their surroundings with a hoof. “I doubt that everypony will appreciate your... artistic talents.”

Twilight nodded. “Are you going to make me stuff to clean with too? Can I have an apron like the one Aegis has? I really like the hearts...”

Celestia smiled, but at the same time shook her head. “No, Twilight. I actually wanted to take this opportunity to teach you another lesson.”

Twilight beamed, her smile cranking the happiness up to eleven. "I'm ready, Princess! What kind of lesson is it?" She cast a glance at Aegis and the mess. "Is it a lesson about diggleating?"

"Delegating, Twilight. And no, it's not." Celestia picked a particularly beleaguered section of wall and lit up her horn, separating the paint from the stone. Only then did she remember that both she, and probably Aegis as well, would need a bucket or two to keep the discarded paint and cleaning water in. Fortunately, that was a problem easily solved. As soon as she had put the buckets in place, she made the paint do a little walk over to them, much to Twilight’s delight.

“Did you do that with levitation?” the filly asked, walking around to the bucket the paint had sprung into and peering inside as though she half expected it to be alive in there.

“Not quite. Animation is very similar to levitation in that you’re making an object move, but much more difficult in that you make the object move by itself. It can be useful for a number of things, but can cause problems if you don’t know how to handle the spell.” Even as she talked, Celestia was beginning to realise that a spell the likes of which she was talking about was almost certainly out of Twilight’s league. Levitation was hard enough for the filly, never mind the more intricate spell structure of animation that required runes, and subtly heating up the paint to make it let go in the first place. Upon seeing Twilight’s gleeful expression, however, she decided that a little demonstration couldn’t do any harm.

I could make a cruder version of the spell... She hummed softly while making another patch of paint drag itself over to the bucket for Twilight’s enjoyment. Would certainly require a lot more power... but that wouldn’t bother her much, would it? At the very least it would require a little less from the filly in the ‘finesse’ department.

“Princess?”

She inclined her head and found Twilight looking up at her. “Yes, Twilight?”

“What if it’s too difficult? What if I can’t do it?”

Celestia smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll start out with something easy, but first, I need some time to prepare.” She pointed at Rook who had positioned himself at the end of the hall, facing away from his colleague. “Why don’t you and Rook go get us some snacks in the mean time?”

Twilight looked at the guard over her shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Okay. What would you like, Princess?”

With half her mind already having gone back to the question of how to simplify the spell, it took a moment for Celestia to respond to the question. “I’ll have a few Moonlight lily stalks,” she said, trying to think of something else. “And perhaps some of Mead’s mead,” she added a few moments later with a small smile. Note to self, talk to Mead about slipping Twilight alcohol.

“Okay!” Twilight skipped over to Rook, and, after a soft exchange of words, skipped off towards the kitchens, unafraid of getting lost now that she had colored lines to follow. Rook shook his head and looked back at Celestia, who absently waved him off, before following the filly in her latest escapade.

“Princess! We’re back!”

Celestia let out a deep sigh. She had come up with a spell that was sufficiently simple just in time. Without the runes, supplementary patterns, or indeed, many of the more intricate hoops the spell was supposed to go through, the power requirement had gone up more than tenfold. Despite that, Celestia was quite sure that Twilight would be able to successfully get the spell to work.

She hastily erased the notes she had drawn on the floor in paint, and was presented with a plate full of Moonlight lily stalks before she could even turn around to return Twilight’s greeting. Twilight was one big proud smile, holding not just the plate in her magic, but three big mugs of mead, and a smaller plate with a piece of cake on it as well.

“I carried it all by myself,” the filly proudly declared. “And I didn’t even drop anything.”

Celestia took the plate with an appreciative nod, shaking it a little when she tried to move it and found that Twilight’s magic was still holding it. It lasted for all but two seconds, but indicated that Twilight’s mastery over her levitation, while most definitely improving, was still shaky at best. “Thank you, Twilight,” she said, pretending not to notice Twilight’s short-lived frown. “It looks delicious.”

After Twilight had brought Rook and Aegis their cider, they all took a break to enjoy the snacks. It gave Celestia a little more time to define the spell she wanted to show Twilight, stripping out one more rune that was more than likely a redundancy of sorts while she consumed the lily stalks.

Twilight was already pacing back and forth by the time Celestia looked up from her plate. The filly had borrowed the mop she’d given Aegis, and was apparently trying to see how many colors she could mix before it turned into a brown slurry.

Celestia coughed politely, more out of habit than anything, and said, “Okay, Twilight. Shall we get started on your lesson?”

The mop was instantly forgotten and Twilight skidded to her haunches only a few feet away in seconds. “I’m ready to begin, Princess!”

“Very good.” With a smile, Celestia used some of the paint to create a picture she’d come up with during the deconstruction of the spell. It was a diagram of sorts, explaining what individual changes the spell made, and how it interacted with the paint. “Let’s start with the theory. The spell I used is an adaption of a spell called Liquid Animation, which provides the affected liquid with basic motor functions and an increased viscosity. There are other variations of the spell for solid matter and gaseous states, but that is for another time. Normally this particular spell only works on bodies of water and things that are similarly already in a liquid state. However, because the paint here has already dried up, I—” She stopped mid-sentence when Twilight raised her hoof like a filly in class. “Yes, Twilight?”

“Viscosity?”

“It’s a word that tells you how thick a liquid is...” Celestia put a hoof to her chin when Twilight merely looked confused with the explanation. “Basically, the more viscosity a liquid has, the easier it stays together.”

A few moments of silence passed before Twilight asked, “Like jello?”

“Yes, jello would be an example of something with high viscosity.” Celestia hadn’t finished her sentence, or Twilight already had her hoof in the air again.

“Is it the same spell you used to make the ball of water float in the baths?”

Celestia shook her head. “No, I only used levitation, although using this spell could have made it easier to keep such a sphere afloat.” When no new question emerged from the bottomless well before her after that, she continued. "As I was saying, because the paint has already dried up, the spell needs to accomplish one of two things: either it has to draw moisture from the surrounding air, or heat up the paint itself, in order to make the substance malleable again." She pointed at the next part of the diagram that showed the paint leaping from the wall. "The second part of the spell tells the paint how it’s supposed to move. A very simple form of animation if you will.”

When Twilight did not immediately shower her with questions again, Celestia wondered if she was explaining the theoretical ideas behind the spell in too much detail. Perhaps all she really needs is some practical experience. She ran through the spell once more in her head, and then nodded.

“Why don’t you give it a...” She let her sentence peter out when she found that Twilight had taken her lesson to heart and was already sticking out her tongue while she tried to make the aforementioned spell happen.

Twilight’s first three attempts ended up not accomplishing much of anything; her horn sputtered a little, and paint she was trying to move stayed put, silently judging her. The fourth was a failure as well, though she did manage to make a small droplet wobble a little. When she finally did get it right—after half a dozen more times and just as Celestia was about to give her some pointers—she succeeded. The small blotch that had smugly been sitting next to the line, taunting her with her failures, got up and obediently deposited itself in the bucket next to the ones Celestia had already sent there.

Seeing that her student was having little to no difficulty, or at the very least getting the hang of the spell, Celestia moved over to where Aegis was scrubbing the floors in a much less flashy, though much more efficient way of cleaning.

The stallion did his due diligence and then some, still wearing that almost ludicrously large grin like it had been plastered onto his face. He looked like quite the fool, even if Celestia knew him to be a serious stallion... most of the time at any rate.

“So tell me, Aegis,” she began, choosing a clean spot on the floor and sitting down next to him in a spot from which she could observe Twilight while talking to her bodyguard. “How did your ‘fight’ with Twilight go?”

He chuckled. “It went well, Princess, though she will likely tell you that she was the victor in the end.”

Celestia shook her head softly. “I wanted to hear about it in a little more detail. Could you tell me more?”

Aegis stopped scrubbing and let his mop lean against the nearby wall before stretching each of his legs. “I ‘attacked’ her after we had painted most of the castle. She’s very... focused when there’s something she wants to do and...It just a silly flash of whimsy, really. I told her she was being too serious and she told me that ‘serious was what grown up ponies did’, and that she was a grown up pony.”

He fell silent and watched Twilight happily hop back and forth while she magicked more paint into the bucket with a smile.

“And then?”

Aegis chuckled again. “Then I painted a smiley on her barrel, and told her that adults can be silly as well... and she took it as a declaration of war.”

The imagery brought a smile to Celestia’s face as well. “A whimsical idea, hmm? Good to know that my guards haven’t forgotten what the meaning of fun is,” she quipped. “You’ll have to remind me what it is like sometime.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Aegis replied before letting out sigh. “Although... it wasn’t just whimsy. Though she didn’t exactly say anything, I got the impression that she was worried about your reaction.” He shifted his gaze from Twilight to Celestia and managed a smile. “Fortunately it seems she still has enough ‘filly’ in her to have forgotten about that fear during our paint fight.”

Celestia was baffled. She knew that Twilight had fears, seen them first hoof even, but she had never expected those fears to reach beyond the immediate. At least... not quite so quickly. She’d hardly known what to do that first time around, and she wasn’t sure if she could have calmed Twilight down again if a similar situation had occurred. Her heart swelled with gratitude and her smile grew brighter. “Thank you for helping me take care of her, Aegis.”

The stallion grunted, as though the mere thought of receiving thanks for it was akin to an insult. “It’s the least I could do, Princess. I might not ever have kids of my own, but helping you with Twilight is close enough.”

“Is there something wrong with your...?” Celestia coughed. Such things generally weren’t spoken off in conversation, and even if they had been, it was hardly proper to pry.

Aegis smiled, however, and shook his head with a laugh. “Not at all, Princess... It’s just...” She could read the mirth on his face, from the forward pointed ears to the little wrinkles under his eyes. “My job doesn’t leave me with a lot of time to meet many mares, let alone court them.”

That, moreso than anything made Celestia flush with embarrassment. Of course he wouldn’t have time to achieve anything romantically. He and Rook are busy watching over your fat flank all day. “I—I could...” she shook and composed herself. “If you feel strongly enough, I think I could convince everypony that matters that I need a few more guards. It would give you some more time and opportunity if nothing else.”

Again, Aegis shook his head. “Can’t accept that, Princess. Rook would never forgive me. Guarding you is our responsibility and I don’t think I’d be able to relax, much less socialize if you changed our schedules at this point, Princess.”

“Speaking of Rook, where—”

A piercing shriek cut her off whatever she had been about to say, and made both Celestia and Aegis jump into a defensive posture. Locating the source of said shriek was no difficult task; right in front of them was a multicolored blob of paint—predominantly yellow and green— which was about the size of an adult pony. It chased Twilight around the corridor, leaving behind a multicolored trail that undid any and all of the cleaning work they had accomplished thus far, while Twilight’s screams shattered the relative peace like so much glass.

“Twilight!” Aegis rushed forward and Celestia was only a step behind.

Fast as they were, however, they weren’t fast enough.

The slime caught up to Twilight and glomped, knocking Twilight to the floor and moving in for the kill. From seemingly nowhere, it split in half, revealing a mouth that, while not possessing any teeth, held a slimy, transparent, tongue which it used to lick Twilight’s face. Two was the number of licks Twilight had to endure before the creature closed its mouth in confusion. It swelled and bloated before exploding, spraying the entire area with the paint it had been made out of.

In the aftermath, the only sounds remaining were Twilight frightened wails, and Celestia's nigh frantic reassurances. “Shhhh. It's okay. You're okay now, the monster is gone,” Celestia told her student, the light of her horn dying down now that the threat had quite literally dissipated. When it appeared that her words had little to no effect, she scooped Twilight up and held her close. It felt like the right thing to do, even if her mind told her that physical distance should've had no impact on Twilight's state of mind.

"Hey, Twilight? I think that we should just have a water fight next time," Aegis said in a happy tone of voice like the entire situation hadn't happened. "Next time, I'll win for sure, and we won't even have to clean up afterwards!"

She wanted to chide her guard for being so insensitive. Twilight needed comfort after an experience like that, not some half-assed bet on when their next fight could happen. Strangely enough, however, the filly's crying slowed once she internalized what Aegis had said. She sniffed once, twice, and then shakily replied: “Nuh uh.”

“Yeah uh,” Aegis said in turn.

Celestia watched the back and forth with a mounting sense of understanding. If what Aegis had told her before held true, this could very well be the answer to the problem at hoof.

“What in the wide world of Equestria is going on here?! Twilight? Oh my stars, Twilight, are you okay?”

Celestia's ears swiveled around just a tad faster than the rest of her at the shrill screaming that echoed through the halls, only to then plaster themselves against her skull when she saw who exactly the voice belonged to.

An angry and scared Twilight...Velvet? The mare's name had slipped Celestia’s mind, though that didn't stop the mare from storming towards them, followed closely by Rook. Celestia stifled a groan. Aegis' quick thinking might've solved one of her immediate problems, but she doubted that anypony would be able to help her with this one.

Hitting The Fan

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She’s early.

That was the first recognisable thought that came to Celestia in a sea of chaotically swirling emotions and ideas that combined to create a mild case of panic. As a princess, however, Celestia didn’t do panic; or so she liked to tell herself. Twilight Velvet all but snatched Twilight from her grasp and hugged her daughter close, smothering the filly with a mixture of reassurances, kisses, and questions on whether or not she was alright.

After a deep breath which she let out slowly, Celestia looked at her bodyguards. Both Aegis and Rook seemed taken with the scene, or at the very least focused on the grey mare whom had just screamed with an intensity that could put a windigoes’ to shame. Things would need to happen sooner rather than later if she wanted to salvage the situation in a discreet manner. Already, ponies within earshot of their blob-monster attack were gathering around them in groups, with some of them already asking if the princess needed help.

The ‘sooner’ Celestia had been looking for sadly did not come soon enough. Before she had straightened out her thoughts and opened her mouth to call out a few general orders to restore normalcy to this part of the castle, Twilight Velvet opened hers. “What in Equestria is going on here?” The mare asked brusquely, directing her accusatory gaze towards Celestia exclusively. “I never would have thought—

“Missus Velvet, please,” Celestia interrupted her, lowering her head so she could look the angry mother in the eyes and lowered her voice in the hopes of accomplishing something similar in the mare. “I am very sorry for scaring you with that little display, and I understand how upset and angry you must be because of it, but would you please join me in my chambers so that I may explain what happened in detail?”

At first, it didn’t seem like Celestia’s words had even registered with the mother who clutched her child with such vigor that it looked like Twilight was having trouble breathing. Too much of a good thing as far as Celestia was concerned, but she understood where the impulse came from. She thought that she might have responded the same way if she had a child that she had just seen in a potentially dangerous situation. When Velvet opened her mouth, Celestia almost flinched. Instead, she tried to convey peace and understanding in a look.

Much to her surprise, it worked, and Velvet actually looked at the ponies surrounding them before slowly closing her mouth and nodding. “Alright,” she replied tersely, her tone letting Celestia know that, while she was willing to listen, there would be hell to pay if she didn’t like what Celestia had to say.

Celestia nodded gratefully and turned to face the crowds. “Thank you all for your concern, but the danger has passed. Please continue with your day.”

Her softly spoken request was met with murmuring and ponies who slowly broke off from the crowd. They had a fire lit under their collective asses when Rook turnabout faced and glared into the crowd. “You heard the Princess!” He yelled. “Back to work! Nothing to see here!”

“Sergeant Aegis? You are to make sure that this place is spotless. And after that, take a good long time to scrub yourself clean,” Celestia told her other bodyguard in a stern, authoritative voice. “I don’t want to see a speck of paint on you when you arrive at your post.”

It was an act for the benefit of Velvet, and luckily Aegis seemed to realise that. “Yes, Ma’am, Princess, Ma’am,” he replied, snapping to a salute and wincing when it sent more paint flying at the walls. “Not a speck!”

After Velvet had reluctantly put Twilight down on the floor, and Twilight had gotten enough air to be able to move again, Celestia picked her student up in her magic and cleaned her of all the errant specks of paint that still clung to her coat before shepherding them along the brand new colored lines to her quarters. She stopped at the doors and motioned for Velvet and Twilight to go on ahead before focusing on Rook who brought up the rear. “Nopony gets in,” she all but hissed, and after Rook nodded and took his place next to the door she slammed it shut and layered several spells over it for good measure.

It seemed strange, even to herself, how such a comparatively diminutive mare inspired more dread than a mob of angry ponies demanding to know what had happened to their dental plans. The mare and her daughter hadn’t moved from their spot near the entrance. Velvet still looked angry and uncertain, and Twilight looked even more afraid and even more uncertain than she had right after the attack. Probably due to her mother’s behaviour.

Celestia quickly created a seating arrangement out of the pillows she had stacked up against the wall, and then almost put a hoof through her face when she realised that she hadn’t asked for any refreshments. Too late to do anything about that now, she thought to herself when Velvet sat down and stared at her with one eyebrow raised.

She found herself cowed in the presence of an ordinary pony. Apparently Twilight got her penchant for upsetting the balance of things from her mother. Celestia thought with a smile that she strictly kept inward. She dwarfed Twilight Velvet in everything from stature to magical power, and could likely have made the mare faint simply by increasing the ambient magic she put out, but there was one thing she would not be able to stop Velvet from doing: taking Twilight away from the castle if she was truly afraid for her daughter’s well being. At least, not without doing some morally questionable things, and possibly not without irreparably damaging Twilight’s trust. Neither one of which she even wanted to think about.

That left only one option.

With a deep breath to hold together the shaky foundations of her confidence, she walked over to the pillows she had laid out for herself and sat down. The scene was almost exactly how she had expected her talk with Twilight’s mother to take place, with a few important differences. There would have been some calming tea for starters. She briefly reconsidered asking Rook to fetch some, but when Velvet cleared her throat, even that seemed like a foolish idea.

“I... wanted to apologise for raising my voice to you, Princess,” the mare muttered apologetically. “I had heard some... worrying things before I came to the castle, and when I saw Twilight about to get eaten by that blob monster I just—”

This isn’t right. “Please,” Celestia replied, holding out a hoof when Velvet tried her best to curtsy from a sitting position. “You shouldn’t need to apologise for acting as a mother should. I can only imagine how frightening it must be to see your daughter in a situation like that.” She smiled supportively. “And to help put your mind at ease, that ‘monster’ was merely a collection of animated paint, no more dangerous than the paint fight she engaged one of my guards in earlier in the day.”

Velvet smiled back hesitantly. “That’s a relief, but...” She looked over at Twilight, who was beginning to relax now that her mother was as well. “What about the rest?”

The tense knot in Celestia’s stomach wound itself tighter but she kept her smile pleasant and asked, “The rest?”

Velvet nodded. “I came to the castle because somepony told me about some terrifying things that have happened since she came to live at the castle. Like the fact that Twilight almost fell to her death in the middle of court!? How could she ever have gotten into a position where that was a possibility?”

“I am...” The word on her lips was ‘unsure’, but even though Velvet seemed to have calmed down somewhat, admitting she didn’t know about potentially life threatening issues didn’t seem like the best of ideas. “—Working to resolve that matter. It won’t happen again.”

“It was my own fault, mom,” Twilight admitted, her ears folding back on her head. “I wandered out of my room when I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

With one hoof, Velvet pulled her daughter close, and with the other she rubbed Twilight’s back. “That’s okay, dear. Can you tell me what happened?”

Twilight seemed hesitant to continue, shooting a glance at Celestia as though it was her approval the filly was worried about. Celestia nodded and motioned for her to go on, she probably needed to know what had happened more than Twilight Velvet did. Especially if she wanted to have any chance of fixing what had so obviously gone wrong in her castle.

“Well...” Twilight began, “The castle is very big, and I wanted to know if there were any fun places to see that I hadn’t seen yet. So I went exploring, just like Daring Do!” She picked up steam and smiled now that she was comparing herself to her favorite explorer. “First I went down some stairs to a huge—” She emphasised her words by spreading her forelegs and trying to envelop the room with them. “—market. The kind Daring Do always visits at some point in her adventures. Then, after that, I found the Princess’ secret hideout—” She looked around as though the walls had ears and leaned in close to her mom, whispering: “Princess Celestia is a superhero,” which earned her two looks of utter disbelief.

Velvet glanced at Celestia, who could only respond with a shrug and a confused shake of her head.

“Her hideout doesn’t have any lights, which was scary at first, but I figured out a light spell.” Twilight beamed with pride at her victory, apparently oblivious to her mother’s deepening frown. “It took a really long time before I found anything, but she has a super special armor thingy in the center of her hideout, with glowy pictures on it and everything!” Twilight paused there, once again looking at Celestia as though she had done something wrong. “But when I tried to pick it up with my magic, it put me to sleep and it gave me a headache. Sorry, Princess. I know you shouldn't touch other ponies' things without permission."

The body language of the older mare clearly conveyed how frightened she was. Even though she was holding her daughter, Celestia could all but see the horrifying implications of Twilight’s tale flow through Velvet’s mind. This is going to take some doing.

“And then, Twilight?” Velvet asked gently, letting her daughter go with such reluctance that it seemed as though it physically hurt. She wasn’t at all happy with what she heard.

“Then, when I woke up, I was hungry, but I could hear the princess’ voice,” Twilight continued dutifully. “So I followed it, and there was this small opening which I had to squeeze through, and after that I was in the courtroom, but wayyy high up. And I wanted to wave to the Princess to let her know where I was, but I slipped and then...”

“That's enough, Twilight. We know the rest.” Velvet fixed Celestia with a look that demanded an explanation.

Celestia however, was still stuck on the revelation of the armor. It was an ancient artifact, from a time when her little Luna was still with her, back when the world had many more rough edges to it. When Chaos still stalked the land, and continued survival was not something to be taken for granted. She had all but forgotten that it even existed, having buried it along with the painful memories that it evoked. Those memories surfaced now, when she heard Twilight talk about it, and it had all but taken her breath away.

"Princess?"

In her mind's eye, Celestia came face to face with a nightmarish creature that hadn't set a hoof in Equestria for nearly a thousand years. A snarling, insane monster that she had dealt with in the only way she could. She had chosen the lesser of two evils, but after the deed was done, she had locked away every single thing that had lead to the monster's demise, and distanced herself from those that called themselves her allies at the time, wanting no more to do with any of them.

"Princess?" Celestia blinked and looked down. Twilight had scooted over and was poking her cutiemark with an earnest expression. "Is everything okay?" The worried looking filly asked.

Now's not the time, Celestia. Pull yourself together. She blinked again and shook her head before smiling at her young student. "I'm fine, Twilight. I was just... lost in thought."

“If you are fine, could you explain to me how she have gotten into this ‘secret hideout’ of yours? Or why that armor wasn’t put away in an armory where it belongs?”

“Oh!” Twilight exclaimed hopping up and down on the spot. She kept hopping until her mother looked at her and then drew an imaginary circle on the floor with her hoof. “There was this hole in the floor, beneath a statue that moved when I leaned against it. And inside there was a switch! But I didn’t understand how it worked at first so I—” While she talked, Twilight upended herself and tried to repeat the acrobatics that had almost gotten her into the secret passage. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any statue to brace herself against this time around, and she ended up falling flat on her back. Not that it stopped the filly, who immediately got up again and continued talking like nothing had happened. “I tried to put my horn in it, but when that didn’t work, I tried feeling around with my magic, and it worked!”

Velvet said nothing for a while, merely looking like she was debating berating her daughter for her poor choice of wording.

Celestia, knowing that she was going to have to put a stop to Twilight’s explanations before they made it seem like she had no idea what was going on in her own castle, coughed to draw the mare’s attention and began with; “As Twilight said, it was a secret passage, one that I kept a secret for a reason.”

“Because it was dangerous?” Velvet immediately cut in.

‘Dangerous’ was a word best avoided when rash decisions weren’t the desired effect of a given conversation. Dangerous implied that what was happening could harm somepony —in this case Twilight— and Celestia was trying to convince Velvet that she had nothing to worry about, not send her running for the hills in terror with Twilight in tow. “Not by itself, no. It merely has some heavy enchantments against magical interference.” Celestia painted a wistful smile on her face. “And it isn’t being stored in the armory because the veteran guards kept daring the new unicorn recruits to tamper with it. It lead to some embarrassing and occasionally even painful incidents, which is why I locked it away in the first place.”

Even though it was a well crafted story, skepticism was to be expected. For the average pony, locking something away did not generally involve secret rooms, after all. And Velvet was nothing if not skeptical with one eyebrow raised high enough as to be fusing with her hairline. However, she did not comment on it further, and before she got to her next question there was a polite knock on the door.

Celestia looked towards it, rolling her eyes in exasperation.“Please excuse me,” she said, getting up and making her way over to the door. She halfheartedly mused about an appropriate punishment for those that complicated an already delicate situation, and for her guards, which she’d specifically instructed not to let anypony through. Rather than find a pony when she opened the door, however, Celestia was presented with a cart, on which were placed tea, and a few light snacks.

“One of the cooks just brought this up, Princess,” Rook informed her. “I thought it might be helpful.”

Celestia nodded and used her magic to pull the cart into the room before closing the door. "Thank you, Rook. Convey my gratitude to Mead."

She closed the door without waiting for a reply and returned to the two Twilights with a painted on smile.

The two were softly conversing amongst themselves, Velvet shooting furtive glances in her direction every so often. The conversation stopped when Celestia returned to the pillow pile, but judging by the disparity in expression—Twilight was smiling happily while Velvet wore a frown—it was easy to infer that her troubles weren't over yet.

"Is it true that you fainted after a lesson, Princess?" Velvet asked before she had even sat down.

Celestia paused, the small wooden tray with the teapot and snacks suspended in her magic. "I wouldn't necessarily call it fainting," she replied before setting down her cargo. "Would you like some tea before I explain what happened?"

Velvet's expression cleared up a little, and she almost bowed her head in ingrained deference. "If you— I mean... Yes, please."

Celestia smiled and then looked at the younger of the two. "Twilight?"

Whatever the filly had been thinking about was apparently interesting enough that she had missed the preceding questions entirely. Nevertheless, she responded with a very eloquent: "Huh?"

"Could you please go help Aegis clean up?"

After a moment of deliberation and a not so subtle glance at her mother, Twilight nodded, and asked: "Why? I thought—”

“I don’t know if I want her to leave my sight—” Velvet interjected.

“Please.” Celestia said, cutting them both off. “I’ll be happy to explain what happened, but it’s more than a little... embarrassing.”

Velvet held Celestia’s gaze for a time, seemingly probing her for falsehoods. Fortunately, Celestia’s public face had been honed by centuries of partial truths, and even outright falsehoods when necessary. “Fine. Twilight, go help Aegis. We’ll come get you when we’re done.”

“Okay.” Twilight said, hesitantly.

"Now then," Celestia began after she had sent Twilight off with Rook. The cleaning job shouldn’t take them too much longer but with a little luck it should give her just enough time to find out what else Twilight Velvet knew. While she held that honesty was generally the best solution, it was important to put the focus on the most important facts; and it needn't mention every detail. "To answer your question, yes I did have a brief moment of weakness after a lesson. Your daughter's magical power is nothing short of astounding. Which is not something I say lightly. She shows an instinctual understanding of complex magical practices that puts her ahead of her peers, or most unicorns in general for that matter." She took a sip of her tea, ordering the rest of her thoughts and taking a moment to see the effectiveness of her words.

Velvet nodded appreciatively, not in the least bit surprised. “We’ve always known that there was something about her... She once used her magic to fling a rock at a young colt that was bullying her...”

“I’m given to understand that isn’t all that uncommon among children these days. What made it special?”

Taking a sip of her tea, Velvet spent a minute gazing out the window thoughtfully. “She wasn’t supposed to have learned basic levitation yet... And the rock was bigger than she was.”

“That makes sense in light of what I’ve seen her do since she arrived at the castle,” Celestia replied, making a mental note about making the next lesson about self-control. “Was the colt alright?”

Velvet nodded. “Thankfully, her aim was off. The wall behind him wasn’t as lucky.” She sighed and shook her head before taking another sip. “But great as it is to hear my suspicions confirmed, none of that explains why you collapsed.”

“It had nothing to do with your daughter. It was very much my own fault.” Celestia said quickly. “I was trying to teach Twilight a very basic shielding spell. But...” Celestia hesitated...

“But?”

“Your daughter... has magic the likes that have not been seen in generations. I can’t even say she is powerful for a unicorn, because truthfully... she is powerful even on my scale.”

“Princess, you’ve already said that. I know my daughter is powerful. I was there when she got her cutiemark. I still remember what having roots felt like. How does that relate to—”

“Well...” Celestia took a deep breath. Sometimes the truth wasn’t good enough. She was all but certain of Velvet’s reaction if she was told that her daughter had almost died twice within a week of coming to live at the castle. She would take Twilight home with her, and that, above all was something Celestia desperately wanted to avoid. Besides, what she was about to say wasn’t precisely a lie, merely an omission of key details. Sort of anyway. “Twilight created a shield powerful enough that took me a great amount of effort to break. Long story short... I was trying to dazzle her and ended up overextending myself.”

Velvet’s mouth opened in a quiet gasp. “You..? Is that even possible? What happened?”

“Used too much magic,” Celestia said, adding a sheepish smile to sell her story. “I’m not quite sure I could explain the details,” Again, not a lie. “Suffice to say, I woke up some time later with a group of doctors scolding me and one very distraught Twilight who thankfully had the presence of mind to fetch an adult.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for several moments, until Celestia felt compelled to bring the conversation back around to her concerns, and away from Velvet’s. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone. It’s bad enough I scared her. I’d rather she not know what a fool her teacher was for making that kind of mistake. And before you ask... I’ve already decided that the next lesson will be: ‘knowing your limits and staying within them’.”

Thought she tried her hardest, Celestia couldn't keep the relief from her face when Velvet nodded in agreement. Thankfully, the mare had shifted her focus to her teacup. “I’m glad to hear that.” Velvet held out her cup and smiled for the first time since she'd arrived at the castle. “Could I get a refill please?”

"Certainly," Celestia replied with an equally amiable smile. Considering the start of their conversation, things had gone much better than she would have dared hope. The lie might be something that came back to bite her later, but it would give her the time she needed to strengthen bonds with Twilight which would, in turn, mitigate the potential damages. If a single lie was the extent of the problems arising from Velvet's visit then she counted herself lucky.

They sat together in a companionable silence for a while. While she couldn't tell what Velvet might be thinking, Celestia's thoughts were focused on the mare herself. With everything that had transpired, strengthening bonds was just what she needed to do, and not just with Twilight.

When she opened her mouth to lay the first bricks, however, Velvet opened hers. "So, Princess, is it true that you consigned my daughter to a duel?"

Horsefeathers.

"Aegis," Rook called out from behind Twilight while they walked back to the disaster area.

Or at least, it looked a lot like the same area. Twilight glanced around, trying to assure herself that they hadn't in fact taken a wrong turn somewhere. It had only been a few minutes and already, most of the extraneous paint seemed to have been cleaned up. Or at least migrated onto Aegis' coat, to the point where she wasn't entirely sure it was him until he smiled. "Hey there." He said, letting the mop he'd been holding lean against the wall. "Back already?"

"The Princess wanted to talk to Twilight's mother alone," Rook answered for her. Twilight merely nodded in confirmation, her head was too full with the way her mother had been acting. Had she done something wrong?

"Something wrong, kiddo?"

She skittishly took a step back when one of Aegis' hooves landed on her back. She hadn't even noticed him move, let alone expected him to pay any attention to her. "I think I got the Princess in trouble."

"Because of your mom?" Aegis laughed softly, picking up his mop and continuing with his clean-up. "Don't worry, Twilight. The Princess wasn't born yesterday. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

Twilight had her own ideas about that. Neither of the guards knew how scary her mother could be when she was angry. Then again, the Princess was plenty scary when she was angry, too, so maybe it would be okay? There was just one question that made her stomach tie itself into knots. “What if my mom wants me to come home with her?” she asked, folding her ears back. In her mind she could very clearly picture the bullies that had tormented her for so long, the boring lessons that school forced her to sit through, and mostly, having to learn to control her magic without the princess. There were upsides of course, seeing her mom and dad again, and being able to read for days on end during the weekends, but weighing the pros against the cons, going home didn’t appeal to her.

The biggest downside would be not learning how to control her magic properly. What if she turned her parents into plants again? Sure, the princess was able to change them back, but it would be very scary having to go to the castle and admit she’d done it again and needed help to fix it.

“Worried that the princess will have to take your magic away if you can’t stay at the castle?”

Twilight turned to regard Rook. The stoic guard had a look on his face of something that almost approached concern, yet didn’t quite hit the mark. She shook her head softly. “No. The Princess can’t really take ponies’ magic away, She told me herself.”

The second expression she saw on Rook—one of bafflement at her statement— came through much clearer than the concern had, and when he looked to some point behind her, she figured that Aegis must’ve had a similar expression.

“That can’t be,” she heard Aegis mutter moments later. He trotted over to where she was standing, mop and all, and asked: “Are you sure that she wasn’t just saying that? I mean... you were probably scared, right? Maybe she was just trying to put you at ease?”

An emphatic No! was the first thing that came to Twilight’s mind. Unfortunately, it got stuck there, and didn’t get to travel to her mouth. The truth was that she didn’t know. What if the princess had lied to her? What if she did, at some point, decide that Twilight couldn’t be trusted with her magic, even if they hadn’t reached that point yet? A cold shiver ran down her spine and suddenly going home seemed a lot more appealing.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, pairing her words with a weak smile.

It was taken for real and Aegis laughed in what she interpreted as a healthy dose of relief and patted her on the back. “Don’t worry about it too much, Twilight. I’ll bet by now the Princess has convinced your mother that you’re going to be an alicorn if you study under her long enough.”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied with a half-hearted chuckle. She had trouble seeing any possible benefits under the heavy feeling that had settled on her stomach. “Maybe.”

“Come on. Let’s get the last of this stuff taken care of and then we’ll go grab something to eat.” Aegis smacked his lips. “They’re serving roasted asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and I heard that Mead was talking about truffle stew.”

A few minutes earlier, Twilight would have jumped at the chance. Her hunger had been building steadily while they were painting the castle, but between the paint monster and the flurry thereafter, she had almost forgotten about it. Now, even though her stomach reminded her that she was in fact hungry, she didn't much feel like eating. All the dishes sound weird anyway.

She quickly moved to the other side of the hallway, finding her own cleaning tools roughly where she’d dropped them when the monster had appeared. With a hesitant glance at the paint around her, she picked up a sponge with her magic, keeping it far away from herself while she darted back to Aegis’ side. If any more monsters were going to attack her, at least he would protect her, right?

They worked in silence for a good fifteen minutes, interrupted only when Rook told them that he was going to go back to the Princess’ chambers, and that he would relay their intentions to the Princess. Aegis gave him a quick salute and watched him march down the corridor before resuming his work.

“There we go, all done,” He said with a content sigh when the last spot of paint he could find was cleaned up and he could finally put his mop away. Twilight didn’t reply. She was still trying to get at a few spots of paint that had flown high enough to get stuck on the ceiling, and she wasn’t having much luck. Aegis marched over to her and prodded the filly in her side, startling her and rewarding him for his attention with a paint-soaked sponge on his head. It was the first time since her mother had arrived that he saw Twilight smile again, albeit not for long. “Don’t worry about those spots, Twilight,” he told her after tossing the offending piece of cellulose into one of the buckets. “The pegasus maids will get it. And if they don’t...” he shrugged. “It’s not like anypony looks up there anyway.”

Twilight nodded but didn’t say anything. For the last half hour, she had remained focused on her task, moving little, and saying less. Unusual, but nothing he was really worried about; he’d given the filly a lot to think about after all.

“Well, shall we go and get something to eat?” he asked her with a bright smile.

Twilight shook her head and pointed at his helmet. “Shouldn’t you go take a shower first? You look like the paint monster ate you.”

For a moment he worried that she was still afraid of it, but her soft smile put him at ease. He chuckled while he looked himself over and replied: “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He quickly formed a plan of attack in his head, the exact way he had been taught during the Royal Guard Induction Course. “Okay, you wait right here, I’ll gallop to the showers and be back here in... ten minutes, and then we’ll go get something to eat, okay?”

“But wouldn’t it be easier if I just went to the Dining Hall and waited for you there?” The confusion in Twilight’s voice was apparent, which in turn fueled his own.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t get lost without me?” Again that soft smile appeared on Twilight’s for a few seconds while she pointed at the colored lines that ran the length of the hallway. His hoof met his face moments after that. “Right, forgot about that. Those things are going to take some getting used to. Okay, I’ll head to the showers and see you in the Dining Hall in about twelve minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Twilight replied with a nod. He watched her spin on the spot and trot in the direction of the colored line before hurrying in the other direction. Only after she’d pointed it out had he become aware of just how uncomfortable it was having paint everywhere on his coat. He couldn’t wait to get into a clean uniform.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile a little while she trotted through the hallways. Sure, the knowledge that the Princess could probably still take her magic away was kind of frightening, but she hadn’t done so yet. And Aegis was just such a funny stallion, it was hard not to feel a little better after talking with him, even if he sometimes said or did weird things.

She looked back and forth, admiring the lines she had helped create around the castle. Miss Sunny had said that they could stay, and they made all the hallways look just that little bit happier.

It was during one of those times in which she looked at the line behind her that she ran into somepony. She stumbled back and barely managed to avoid falling down on her rump. Her first reaction was to apologise, but the apology died on her lips when the other pony spoke up first.

“Watch where you’re going, young filly.”

The curious thing was that the colt that spoke couldn’t have been much older than she was. Three or four years at most. Yet he acted like he was in charge. Superior, through no other fact than that he was slightly older; or maybe it was because he was taller than she was?

With an immaculately groomed white coat, and neatly combed blond hair, he couldn’t have looked more different from Twilight. Despite Celestia’s earlier magical cleaning, she had managed to get some new specks of paint on her coat, and she hadn’t so much as taken a comb through her mane when she’d woken up to begin with; too full of her new ideas to take trivial things such as personal hygiene into account.

“Sorry,” she said belatedly. She’d only seen the colt for three seconds, but she already knew that she really didn’t want him as a study-buddy. For his side, the colt regarded her with a smirk that was as irritating as it was triumphant. He reminded her of the bullies back at school.

“I suppose I can forgive you,” he said, lifting his muzzle higher into the air. “After all, everypony knows that common ponies are stupid and can barely tell their hooves from their tail.”

That sparked a flame in Twilight’s chest. She wasn’t stupid! “Well,” she replied, sticking her muzzle in the air to mirror him. “The princess herself is teaching me magic, so at least I’m smarter than you are.”

The colt’s muzzle came down and his body tensed. For a moment, Twilight was worried that he might jump her and try to hit her, but the tension drained when he looked to his side. Twilight followed his gaze and found that there was another pony beside him whom she had missed completely up till now.

Sporting the same white coat, and with a practically identical blond mane, the mare couldn’t be anypony other than Duchess Blueblood. The pretty mare that was secretly trying to steal the Princess’ throne like any evil pony would. Which meant that the colt must be... Blueblood. Twilight frowned. Names were confusing sometimes.

“Ah, so you’re that filly?” His voice filled with barely disguised contempt. “Then might I suggest that you tuck your tail between your legs and run home to your mommy? If you give up the duel and let me become her student, at least you’ll be spared the worst of what could happen.” Young Blueblood’s triumphant smirk returned. “Because if you don’t, sooner or later, she’s going to eat you to replenish her own magicks. She does that to all her students.”

Twilight stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was the castle’s version of a village idiot (Those ponies always said the strangest things in Daring Do’s adventures) or if he was just that stupid. “No she doesn’t, you stupid,” she replied, satisfied to see his smirk diminish somewhat. “If she did that, then why would you ever want to become her student yourself?”

Blueblood opened his mouth, and closed it again after a few seconds, looking sideways to his mother with a frown that was as upset as it was apologetic. Young Blueblood seemed to be able to do a lot with just a few facial expressions.

“That is indeed correct, young Sparkle,” the Duchess said in a tone that could have frozen a fire. She didn’t even deign to really look at her son, but gave him a slap on the head regardless, making him wince. “While my son might have a rather... vivid, imagination when it comes to our beloved Princess, he’s not completely wrong.” The Duchess stepped forward, obscuring her son from vision and brought her face close to Twilight’s. “Because of her long life the Princess has learned a lot of empathy towards ponies that she thinks are in need of it. But despite her good intentions, she gets bored rather quickly.”

Twilight blinked. That didn’t sound like the Princess at all. “Bored? But—”

“Have you ever heard of any other students of the Princess?” Blueblood cut her off.

After a moment of deliberation, Twilight shook her head. Even if the Princess used to have other students, she’d never heard about them.

“Exactly,” Blueblood continued with a sad smile. “At first she tries to be supportive, make time for them, and make them feel like they are the most important pony in the world. But after a few weeks, she bores of them and sends them back into the world. Nopony has been her student for long enough for it to actually count.” The Duchess nodded sadly. “Surely you’ve realised that she doesn’t have a whole lot of time for you?”

Twilight nodded mutely.

“Well, sorry to say, dear, but that’s only going to be getting worse.” The Duchess lapsed into silence, briefly looked back at her son, and then leant closer, whispering: “I’ve heard from a reliable source that you have been her most difficult student yet. Causing trouble every time you try something.”

“B-but...” Twilight frowned. Imagining the Princess having to deal with problems she had caused was all too easy. “I don’t mean to!”

“Oh, dear,” the Duchess gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you don’t, but the fact of the matter is that the Princess has had to work twice as hard to keep everything going. She’s overslept, and passed out, and... well... you know.”

Twilight sat down on her rump heavily, eyes glued to the floor. Was she really making things that much more difficult for the Princess? “But I can’t help it...”

A white hoof landed on her shoulder and she looked up at the Duchess’ patient smile through teary eyes. “I know you can’t, so perhaps...” The mare sighed theatrically. “Perhaps it is better that you go just home. Just think of how much it would help the princess if you stopped being her student. She would have more than enough time to sleep, and eat, and she wouldn’t even have to make extra time to teach you. In fact, I dare say that it would be better for everypony. Even now she’s devoting time she should be spending on ruling her kingdom on talking to your mother about your behaviour.” The hoof left her shoulder and Duchess Blueblood shrugged. “Then again, perhaps she is telling your mother that you can no longer be her student right now and that she’s going to have to take—”

“She wouldn’t!” Twilight blurted out. A knot of anxiety had formed in her stomach and was constricting her throat, making speaking clearly difficult. She swallowed a few times, but couldn’t her her vocal cords to behave, which made her next utterance come out sounding weak and soft: “Would she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, dear, but why else would they send you away?” The Duchess asked innocently. “She is talking to your mother right now, isn’t she?”

It was torture. She didn’t want to believe that any of it was true. She wasn’t a mistake made by the Princess! She’d done good things too... hadn’t she? She couldn’t refute any of the ideas that the Duchess spoke of way she had done with young Blueblood’s idiot idea. And the Princess had sent her away after all, which was something adults only did when they wanted to talk about kids without upsetting them.

“Twilight!" Just as she was about to ask what she could do, Aegis' voice echoed through the halls. The guard all but bounded towards her, his gait changing into a stiff canter when he saw who exactly she was with. "Duchess," he said when he reached them.

"Guardsman," the Duchess said in turn, pointing her muzzle skyward as if she was appalled by the idea that he would even have the gall to speak to her.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave this filly alone, and move along, ma'am." Aegis stepped in front of Twilight and turned himself sideways just enough to block her view of the mare.

From Aegis' other side, Twilight heard a shocked gasp, followed by the Duchess' voice going: "Well I have never— we were just conversing. You have no right to tell me... to tell us to leave."

"All the same, ma'am. I am asking you to leave." The tone he used was very forceful, similar to how her father would have told her to go to bed when he was being serious.

From the moment they had met, Twilight had thought of Aegis along the same lines as her brother: a friendly stallion with a near constant smile on his face when he was talking with ponies, and who always had some encouraging words when they were needed. Now, however, he very much looked like a guard. Big, strong, and stoic. His entire posture was threatening even if Twilight couldn't put her hoof on why exactly that was.

The Duchess snorted. "Fine. We were just about to leave anyway, but I'll remember you. What is your name, guardsman?"

"Aegis," Aegis replied without missing a beat.

"We'll see how smug you'll feel when I bring your uncouth behaviour up with the Princess, Aegis...” She turned from him dismissively, sweeping her gaze back down to her son. “Blueblood, apologise to the filly for your pathetic attempt at scaring her."

While Aegis kept himself between Twilight and the Duchess, he didn't bother with the young colt who walked up to Twilight and nodded. "I am... sorry for saying something so stupid," he said, although Twilight got the distinct impression that his apology wasn't aimed at her.

With his apology done, the colt rejoined his mother, and together they moved on, leaving Twilight standing in the hallway with Aegis.

"Why did you do that?"

He didn't move until what Twilight assumed was the point when the Bluebloods had turned the corner and then turned to her with a smile. "Do what?"

"Tell them to go away?"

He shrugged. "You looked uncomfortable."

"Oh..." Twilight looked at the floor. Doubts over what the Duchess had said were clawing at her mind, and the realisation of what the Duchess' last words to Aegis meant heaped another helping of guilt onto the pile. "I'm sorry," she said morosely.

"What are you sorry for?"

"You are going to get into trouble with the Duchess and the Princess because of me."

Aegis laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'm supposed to protect ponies. It's in the job description, and besides, I doubt that the Princess would listen to anything the Duchess had to say at this point." He shrugged again and rubbed his belly. "So, are you ready to taste some of the best food you've ever had?"

It was Twilight's turn to shrug. As far as she was concerned Honey Towers were pretty much the most tastiest thing in the world, but it could never hurt to try new things. While you still live at the castle at least...

Celestia was an unhappy mare. Over the course of their conversation, Velvet had relayed a lot of lies to her, as well as some truths that had been presented in an unfavorable light, and every new revelation made her blood boil hotter. She no longer had any doubts as to whose handiwork had caused Velvet’s involvement, and in her long life, few beings had managed to invoke her ire so completely as Duchess Blueblood.

After managing to convince Velvet that taking Twilight home with her now wouldn’t be the best course of action for her daughter, she had asked, and was told about Twilight’s education prior to her coming to the castle; the bullying that the filly had apparently endured for years, and last, but not least, about Twilight’s Big Brother Best Friend Forever and his desire to join the guards. None of it could wipe out Velvet’s admission that she had heard those things from the Duchess, however. Worse, Velvet hadn’t run into the despicable mare in a hallway somewhere, no, Blueblood had made a trip to her home exclusively to extol just how bad a job Celestia was doing.

“—So while we were still reeling with the political implications,” Velvet continued, “Twilight and Shining had already decided that this Gryphon Ambassador, who they had never seen before mind you, was going to be their new playmate, and swept her paws right out from under her in their ‘tackle attack’.” The mare actually smiled when her story was finished, remembering good times no doubt.

Celestia hadn’t been an active listener for some time, but she painted a smile on her face none the less and nodded encouragingly. “That sounds like quite the tale. What happened then?”

“Well...” Velvet stifled a laugh. “After a brief moment in which she thought she was the target of an assassination plot, Glados was all too happy to play with them. I was worried about them for a while there, but it seems Gryphons are surprisingly gentle with their young.” Velvet took a sip of her teacup, the third of the hour, before continuing. “Speaking of devious plots, is it true that some stallion accused my Twilight of trying to assassinate you?”

With a sigh, Celestia put down her own cup. She had no desire to traverse that conversational minefield with Velvet, especially not after the grilling she had just received. Anything and everything could be misconstrued, and even with the new understanding she felt she had reached with the mare, she didn’t want to risk the tenuous balance she had achieved. “His claims were as preposterous as his supposed ‘evidence’,” she said at length. “Twilight didn’t quite trust her magic the first few days after she came to the castle, and fumbled her knife which got stuck in the backrest of my chair. It was a frightening experience, I’ll admit, but it wasn—”

“Princess? Mom? Can I come back in now?”

Twilight’s timid voice was startling, doubly so for one who was used to ponies knocking at her doors at most hours of the day. Celestia looked over her shoulder, shared a glance with Velvet, and nodded. There was little more that needed to be said on the subject they were talking about, and they had kept Twilight out long enough. “Of course, Twilight. Come in.”

Abandoning her post by the door, Twilight slowly made her way over to her mother and sat down. Velvet smiled down at her daughter and stroked Twilight’s mane when she leaned against her. “So, as I was saying, Glados enjoyed her time at our house. She even promised to visit us again when she was in Canterlot, which happened to be a year later.”

“So you’ve bonded over the sibling’s attack?” Celestia asked in bemusement, picking up the thread of their conversation again. A lighter subject was for Twilight’s benefit, but she couldn’t say it wasn’t in her interest either.

“She almost seemed to want to adopt them.” Velvet replied with a smile. “I’ve only met a few griffons on the job, but the ones I’d encountered before all seemed far less... friendly.”

“They take some getting used to, to be sure. Their economy is seeing a bit of a decline, so we’ve been seeing more of them migrating in recent decades.” Celestia turned to Twilight with a bright smile meant to convey her happiness at having learned more about the filly’s experiences. It faltered when she saw the look on Twilight’s face.

The filly had pressed herself against her mother since her return to the room, but there was no smile in remembrance on her face. No happiness in talking about what should have been happy memories. Instead, she looked... afraid, morose, and something else which Celestia couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, dear. Glados never mentioned anything like that. Maybe that’s why she visits so often. Twilight—” Velvet looked down at her daughter to ask a question, only to see that Twilight had tears in her eyes. “Twilight?” she began in a softer tone. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

“I wanna go home.” Twilight said in a voice that was only barely audible to even Celestia’s hearing.

It was painful to hear. How long had Twilight been waiting to say that? Was she that upset with the way Celestia had, or rather hadn't taken care of her, that she jumped at the chance to go home the moment the opportunity presented itself? Had the paint monster scared her more than she had initially let on? For a brief moment, Celestia felt helpless. Even with the surprise appearance of Velvet, and a half formed plan, she had managed to talk her way out of the situation. And now, the one thing she had taken for granted had caught her by surprise and threatened to ruin everything.

Velvet was still trying to figure out what her daughter had said. She leaned in and rubbed Twilight's back, conversing with her in a soft, encouraging tone. “Use your words, sweetie, what's wrong?”

Twilight’s whimpers only grew in strength until she reached an unseen tipping point. “I wanna go hoooooooommmmmmmmmmee,” she cried, opening the floodgates and letting her tears stream down her face.

Velvet leveled a confused frown at Celestia, but for all of her conversational maneuvering in the previous hour, Celestia could only shake her head. She wasn't good with crying children to begin with, and this was just more evidence to that effect. If anything, Velvet could probably teach her a thing or two about that. Rather than employ any secret techniques or hard earned skills, however, Velvet simply pulled her daughter close, and let her cry into her coat.

Twilight's betrayal stung, but Celestia forced herself to think. No matter why Twilight was upset with her, she was still the Princess, and more importantly, it might all be in her head. Wars had been fought over less. “What happened, Twilight?" she asked, putting on the gentlest smile she could find. "Why do you want to go home?”

An apologetic look was all she got before the filly buried her face in her mother’s coat again. Before she had a chance to interpret what that could mean, her thoughts were interrupted by a masculine voice from the direction of the door.

“Princess? A moment of your time?”

Looking up, she found Aegis standing in the doorjamb. His appearance in her chambers, while not unheard of, was generally preceded by a polite knock on the door. She had half a mind to send him away so she could focus on the problem at hoof, but the intense look on the face of the otherwise laid back guard changed her mind. With another glance towards Twilight and her mother, Celestia made her way over to him, belatedly remembering that he might have talked to Twilight in the interim.

"Sorry, Princess," Aegis began in hushed tones when she approached the door. "Twilight didn't close the door, and I couldn't help but overhear..."

"Yes?"

"Before we came back here, I suggested to Twilight that we grab something to eat." Aegis brought up a hoof and rubbed his neck with it. "But seeing as I still looked like a mess—"

"Get to the point, Aegis," Celestia snapped, feeling more than a little agitated by the amalgamation of trouble that seemed to follow her every time she was certain things were moving in the right direction.

Aegis snapped to a salute. "Yes, Your Majesty. I caught Duchess Blueblood talking to the filly, and whatever she and her son told her... she looked less than comfortable when I arrived."

"Blueblood...” Celestia all but hissed. She turned on the spot, nearly knocking Aegis on his rump with her tail alone, and marched back towards Twilight and her mother. “Twilight? Did you talk to Duchess Blueblood?” she asked sternly, trying, despite everything, to contain her anger.

She did not succeed.

Or at least, not completely, judging by the wide-eyed stare of terror Twilight faced her with, the tears running down her face replaced by fresh ones. A tense moment of silence passed for everypony in the room before Twilight broke down. “I’m so-ho-ho-rry, Princess!” she replied through frequent sobs. “I got Aegis into trouble, and I made you lose sleep and made ponies think that you’re a bad Princess for—”

Celestia cut her off by placing a hoof on her lips. “And did talking to Blueblood make you want to go home?”

Twilight shook her head mutely.

“No? Then what did?”

With a hoof Twilight wiped her tears away. They were immediately replaced by fresh ones, so her gesture was futile, but it seemed to give the filly a bit of respite from her ever mounting anguish. “I don’t want to go home,” she said miserably. “I want to stay at the castle and learn magic from you, but...”

Celestia could guess what came next, and she didn’t wish that on her student. She had heard enough. Velvet, however, spoke up in her place. Running her hooves through Twilight’s mane in a calming manner while she urged her daughter onward with a soft: “But?”

“But I do everything wrong! I can’t even do the simplest spells right!”

“Twilight,” Celestia sighed. She was torn between getting the truth about Blueblood’s little game from Twilight and sparing the filly from further pain. In the end, she decided that knowing exactly what Blueblood had talked into the filly’s head would help protect her in future, and so she asked: “What exactly did the Duchess tell you?”

Twilight did not reply immediately, leaning against her mother for comfort. “She asked me if I’d ever heard of other students, and then said that I was boring for you and that I should just go away...” It was more of a whimper than actual speech, but being as close as she was, Celestia understood perfectly. “I’m sorry, Princess! I know I’m boring, and stupid, and can’t do anything right...”

“What else did she say, Twilight?”

Again, Twilight sniffed, and a fresh cascade of tears had to be wiped away by her mother’s foreleg. “That you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or time to eat because of me, and— and... that you would take my magic away and send me home if I didn’t go home right away.”

“Twilight...” Celestia tried as gently as she could. “I told you that I can’t do anything like that, remember?”

“I know you said that,” Twilight replied, hugging her mom tighter as though her demise was imminent. “But you were lying to make me feel better, because I was so scared!”

“And what if the Duchess was lying?”

“B-but... Aegis and Rook said that you could do it as well...”

Celestia had heard enough. She pushed herself onto her hooves—not having realised that she had sat down for the entirety of the conversation— and stalked over to the doors. “Aegis. Rook,” she barked in a way that she’d never done to them before, but it had the intended effect, they stood at attention, “Make sure my guests are undisturbed while I take care of an errand.” In a lower tone, she added: “And we are going to have a long talk about spreading rumors in the near future, especially to impressionable young fillies.”

Aegis looked ready to protest, but in the end training won out over panic, and he nodded in the affirmative. Celestia then looked at Rook just long enough for him to do the same.

“I won’t be long,” she said finally. “But there is something important I need to take care of.” And with that she lit up her horn, engulfing herself in energies that would transport her to her destination. At least, until mare’s voice made her pause.

“Princess Celestia?!”

She looked back over her shoulder at a Twilight Velvet who was wearing a frown similar to her own.

“Kick her ass for me.”

Somewhere in her chest, Celestia found a grim smile, one she donned while nodding at the enraged mother. “Count on it.” And with that, she vanished in a blinding flash of light.

Keying a teleportation spell to a pony’s magical aura was a useful skill, and were it not a top tier magical spell that could only be cast by the strongest mages alive, it would likely have made marehunts a thing of the past. The only problem was that you could never be completely sure of where you would end up.

In Celestia’s case, she ended up in an opulent room, filled to the brim with commendations of achievement awarded throughout the ages. She knew, because she had awarded some of those herself. Trophies lined the shelves, plaques and diplomas hung from the walls, and even the floor couldn’t get away from displaying some of the proudest moments of House Blueblood.

It was appalling to look at, but the room held the one thing she was looking for, or rather, the one pony. Splayed out on an expensive looking couch was Duchess Blueblood, and she wasn’t alone. A stallion that Celestia was sure wasn’t the Duchess’ husband, was feeding her grapes. He blanched whiter than Blueblood’s coat when Celestia appeared, and a simple “Out,” was enough to send him scrambling from the room, leaving a confused Duchess behind.

Until she turned around and noticed Celestia glaring at her.

“P-princess!” The Duchess almost rolled off of the couch in shock, but quickly gathered herself, getting up and bowing as respectfully as she always did. “W-what brings you here?”

“Oh, I’m just here to talk, Duchess,” Celestia replied in a conversational tone. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Blueblood warily eyed her mane for a while, as if she expected it to burst into flame at any moment before it occurred to her that she should reply. “Of course, Princess. Uhm... Please, make yourself comfortable,” Only after Celestia had done just that, and Blueblood had, cautiously, sat down as well, did she ask: “What... brings you here? If I may ask?”

“I’m here to clear up a few things, actually...” Celestia picked up the plate of grapes that had been left on the table after the stallion had fled, and plucked one from the bunch. “Do you mind?” she asked, not deigning to wait for a response before popping it into her mouth.

“Like..?”

“Well first of all, I wanted you to know that I’ve made my decision. The duel will take place the day after tomorrow, in the guard’s training grounds.” Celestia picked up and ate another grape. They were good grapes, although Celestia aim had less to do with trying to get any enjoyment out of the eating of the grapes, and more looking for a way to cope with and manage her anger. Had she not, the Duchess would likely have been little more than a soot stain.

“So she isn’t...?” Blueblood coughed and nodded in what looked like an appreciative manner. “I’m... very glad to hear that, Princess. Some ponies were starting to wonder if you had regrets about promising something as dangerous as a duel or if young Twilight would be capable of...”

Celestia glared at her until she shut her mouth. “I wasn’t done, Blueblood.”

The Duchess didn’t quite manage to hide the frown that flashed across her face, but was all smiles again within a fraction of a second. “My apologies, Princess.”

“Secondly, I had a surprise visit from my student’s mother, not to mention a rather emphatic declaration by my student that she wanted to go home.”

“Oh the poor dear, I can only imagine how dreadfully frightmhhbmh” The Duchess’s eyes widened as her muzzle was closed forcibly by a golden aura.

“Forgive me, but I have no more patience for you today. I know what you did, and why. To be perfectly frank the only thing keeping me from stripping you of your lands and titles and sending you off to Yakistan, is that I would rather not weather the diplomatic storm that would result from it.” She looked up with a thoughtful expression. “They might even see it as a declaration of war... You will get your duel, if only because I want Twilight to know that she is leaps and bounds ahead of your sorry excuse for a son.”

Celestia took a deep breath and, very deliberately, blocked the flow of magic to her mane and tail, causing the buildup and exothermic release of magic that made them catch on fire. She then channeled her magic into her voice, amplifying it in a manner that has not been heard for... Has it really been 500 years? It was, perhaps, a tad theatrical, but no less effective. “But make no mistake, if you ever try to manipulate me or those around me ever again, I will burn you to cinders, and erase your entire bloodline from the annals of history. Is that understood?” Having said that, she released the magic holding the Duchess’s mouth closed.

“Y-you... you...” Blueblood didn’t get much farther than that before her eyes rolled back in her head and she toppled over sideways, falling off of the couch and landing with a smack loud enough to make Celestia wince.

It was only then that she realised that she had subconsciously put more magic into her surroundings than most ponies could handle. A strong odor wafted up to her nose and she quickly and delicately got up. It seemed like fear, rather than ambient magic, had been the reason for Blueblood’s loss of consciousness.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she told the unconscious mare, restoring the flow of energy to her hair and letting the flames die down before she stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Seeing Blueblood keel over like that had done wonders to reduce her anger, and she actually smiled at the stallion who was cowering behind a statue depicting her likeness. “You can go back in now,” she said to him, and watched as he cautiously made his way back into the room before setting a course for her own, a skip in her step.

Her troubles were far from over, but at the very least she had taken care of the biggest one. Now all she had to do was convince Twilight that what the Duchess had told her was wrong, convince Velvet that the Duchess would no longer pose a problem, and convince her guards that she would do terrible terrible things to them if they ever frightened young fillies with such silly notions again.

Anticipation

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The trouble with troubles, is that their size is often inversely proportional to the dread they conjure. A molehill can look like a mountain in the minds of the fearful. Conversely, situations and ponies that look like they would cause little more than minor problems at best, may in fact turn out to pose the hardest challenges imaginable.

For Celestia, those challenges turned out to be young Twilight Sparkle and her mother. After the problem that was Duchess Blueblood had been dealt with, she had let her guard down, and now she was paying the price.

She lost the evening to a longer conversation with Velvet. The mare wanted to know how and why she had become a pawn in the Duchess’ game, and providing her with an answer that was satisfactory proved to be much harder than expected. Especially considering that she had to speculate on most of it.

Having Twilight in the room didn’t exactly make it any easier. The inquisitive filly brought up a million and one questions and ideas as to what Celestia had meant when she said she was going to ‘take care of it’. She came up with imagined scenarios that made both elder mares blanch for their creative, and downright scary use of both magic and punishments; although the notion of shaving the Duchess down to just her skin and then covering her with tar and feathers before running her out of town did manage to strike Celestia’s funny bone.

Their conversation lasted well into the night, with Twilight eventually running out of steam and falling asleep somewhere along the way. It was only after Celestia mentioned the filly leaning against her mother being an adorable sight that their conversation came to an end. Velvet had work the following day, and Celestia figured she had several important decisions to make herself, and that was on top of her normal workload. She was still trying to get a clear overview of all she needed to do when she noticed Velvet picking up Twilight by the scruff of her neck, and ever so gently depositing the filly onto her back. “Shall I have one of my guards escort you and show you to Twilight’s room?”

“No need, Princess, I know where it is.” Velvet responded, looking back at the softly snoring Twilight with a weary smile before adding: “You wouldn't believe how many times in the last two weeks I’ve woken up to check up on an empty bed before remembering that she lives here now. Even spending just a night with her would be wonderful.”

Celestia’s response never made it to her mouth due to years of self imposed restraint, and she merely nodded instead. “If there’s anything you need, just ask one of the guards,” she said, kicking herself mentally when she realised that the only thing Velvet had given any indication of wanting was to take her filly home with her, even if she no longer had any concrete reasons to worry.

As expected, Velvet shook her head. “Just some time with my daughter, Princess. I’ll be out of your mane in the morning.”

Celestia nodded once more. “I understand. Then I’ll bid you a good night.”

Velvet attempted a curtsy, which looked very awkward with the slumbering filly on top of her and resorted to a simple nod in the end. “Goodnight, Princess.” Before leaving the room.

After Velvet had left the room, Celestia headed straight for the double doors that connected her room to the balcony. Outside, she made her way to the edge and sat down on the cold marble, taking a deep cleansing breath before doing something she hadn’t done in a long time.

“Hello, Luna,” she said quietly, looking up at the pale moon.

Long ago had been the day when she had last talked to her sister, and longer ago still had been a time where Luna could have responded. Yet now, fanned by the affection she had seen between mother and daughter, she felt she had to let her sister know that she still cared.

Only, she didn’t know how.

Years stacked upon years ago, right after the... event... that had taken her sister from her, talking to the moon had been... comforting. Soothing in ways that nothing else could match at the time. About nine hundred and seventy years ago, the frequency in which she talked to the moon lessened. At the time, she had really taken an active role in rebuilding Equestria, and her workload had increased exponentially. She had welcomed it and anything else that took her mind off of the pain that had housed itself within her chest, even though it left little to no time for her ritual. About twenty years after that, she had stopped completely. Even though Equestria had become a prosperous country once more, tensions about borders with the surrounding countries put her and everypony around her on edge.

Wars had come and gone. Some short, lasting a matter of hours. Just long enough to injure a single soldier, before she and her advisors had managed to convince the other side of the follies war brought with it. Others were long, drawn out, affairs. Wars in which, more often than not, her experience as a strategist and warrior decided the course of history, moreso than her skill at diplomacy. And throughout the pains, sorrows, joys, and hopes, her almost nightly talks with her sister had gone forgotten.

She fell silent, trying to remember the face of her little Luna. Partially formed images and sounds passed her by; half a smile after some badly phrased joke... a light laughter after a particularly pompous noble had fallen down a set of stairs... a gruff, annoyed groan during a boring meeting... an excited yell after a hard-fought battle... But for all that, the only face she could recall was that of the monster who had stolen Luna’s body and hissed while it tried to crush her underneath parts of the old castle.

Hours passed her by in silence while she tried to remember what Luna looked like exactly. She came up short every time. It felt like clawing at a scabbed-over wound that refused to heal properly. Painful every single time she tried, and no more conducive to healing. “I hope you’re doing well up there,” she finally whispered, adjusting her wings slightly before getting up. She could feel the day’s events weigh on her, followed by the knowledge that Twilight was nowhere near ready to participate in a duel of any kind, magical or otherwise.

She needed to send Twilight Velvet home as soon as possible, a nap, an idea of how to teach Twilight several months work of basic spells in a day, and a private area which she could arrange for the duel to take place in; not necessarily in that order. She also needed to be rid of the heavy feeling in her chest that made her doubt if continuing as she had was worth it.

With one lingering look at the moon high above her, Celestia stepped inside, and made her way over to her desk before changing her mind and walking towards her bed instead. As taxing as the day had been, tomorrow would likely be even more so. She was going to need her wits about her if she wanted to have any chance of providing Twilight with something she could actually use without causing harm to herself or her surroundings in the process.

Putting her crown and regalia to one side and stepping out of her shoes, Celestia let herself fall onto her bed and sighed loudly. Sleep couldn’t come soon enough. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but at least it would give her something to occupy her mind with.

Celestia awoke well before dawn. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than four hours, but from the moment she opened her eyes, her mind was racing with ideas, possible solutions, and an almost giddy excitement that she hadn’t experienced in quite a while.

Her first attempt at vacating the bed was thwarted by the sheets, but after carefully untangling herself, she swiftly made her way to the door. Aegis and Rook seemed surprised by her early rising, but neither commented on it, and they quickly fell in behind her while she made her way towards the nearest library. She absently noted that one of the colored lines connected it to her room, giving her — and more importantly, Twilight — unfettered access to it.

A part of Twilight’s idea that isn’t, strictly speaking, altruistic, she thought, a ghost of a smile on her face. It made sense given that Twilight could, quite literally, be the poster child for bookworms. Thinking about it led her to thinking about the blob monster, and that in turn led her to the fact that her guards needed a stern talking to regarding rumors and spreading those rumors to the ears of impressionable young fillies.

Now would be as good a time as any. She figured, heading into a relatively small room that nevertheless had books stacked all the way to the ceiling. At this early hour, nopony was present, which served her just fine. It wouldn’t do to chastise her guards in front of an audience. She had their pride to consider.

“Rook? Aegis?” She stopped next to the table and extended a wing. “Please take a seat.”

Both guards followed her instruction, albeit hesitantly. It was as if they both knew what was coming. Perhaps they did. She had made no secret of her displeasure the previous day after all. Rook kept his face placid, but Aegis started talking almost as soon as he sat down.

“Princess, I just want to say that Rook never said anything to Twilight. I was confused by Twilight’s statement which resulted in me seeking some clarity. It was never my intent to scare her with—”

“Shut up, Aegis.”

He closed his mouth with an audible snap. Hearing her be so direct, and even somewhat vulgar might come across as new to them, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to make this last longer than it absolutely needed to be. She needed to find a book, find the relevant sections, and formulate a plan based on the information relevant to her current problem, all preferably before Twilight woke up.

She also needed something to eat.

“I recognise that there exist stories about me,” she began. “About who I am, or what I am; what I can, or cannot do; and a myriad of conspiracies surrounding my every decision. There are those that fear that I might just burn the entire world if I get bored with it. Others think that I raise the dead out of spite, or simply as a hobby, and yet others wonder if I am god-incarnate, come down to the world to judge ponykind for their misdeeds.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, checking to see if her guards were still listening.

Judging by the position of their ears, they were. Intently.

“I generally let those stories persist because it can be useful to have your opponents, and sometimes your allies, guess at what you are truly capable of.” She let out a deep sigh, allowing just a little of her disappointment to show in her expression. “That being said, I had hoped you would think better of me. I had thought we knew each other fairly well—”

“Please, Princess—” Rook blurted out, stopping when she held up a hoof.

She shook her head in chagrin. “I won’t blame you, because I don’t share very much about myself, even to close friends. But... I trust you to keep the secrets that you overhear on a daily basis to yourself, and certain things you should know, because it might help you to better perform your duties. It’s in keeping with that trust that I will tell you this: I know of no way, and possess no special ability, to remove a unicorn’s ability to cast without obliterating them completely."

“And the god-incarnate thing?” Rook asked, his mouth creeping up a few inches in what could be construed as a smirk.

Celestia allowed herself a smile. “Some things are best left unsaid, though I would remind you to think for yourselves. I sleep and eat like any other. I have wants, needs... I get bored when faced with tedium, and bleed when stabbed.”

Rook nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

While Aegis looked like he understood what she was saying as well, there was a curiosity to his expression that immediately reminded Celestia of the pony she had come to the library for. “Does that mean that you also... uhm...” He blushed furiously, and his sentence petered out into a mumbled. “Nevermind.”

She didn’t deign to respond to his question. “Now, I don’t want either of you filling Twilight Sparkle’s head with silly notions, either. She’s an impressionable young filly, and if she’s afraid of me...” she let the rest of her sentence linger unsaid, but even that couldn’t stop the emotional jab that surged through her heart. No, having Twilight be afraid of me would be a very bad thing indeed. “That’s all. Now, would one of you be so kind as to fetch us some breakfast? I have a hankering for something sweet, and perhaps some tea to go with it.” She stopped to look at the spine of a book for a moment before adding: “We might be here a while, so make sure you ask for a double helping, and grab something for yourselves as well.”

Both stallions came to their hooves, though Rook was just a little faster than his co-worker, and galloped out the door before Aegis could. He looked put out by it, frowning at the doorway until he took up position beside it after which it looked like nothing had happened at all.

It surprised Celestia, however. Had they loosened up a little since Twilight had come along, or had they always had a sort of friendly rivalry between them, and she’d simply never cared to notice? She filed the tidbit away in the back of her mind to think about at some later date, right now, she had a book to find.

“Goodbye, my little Twily. I promise I’ll visit again soon. Be good to the Princess, okay?” came a familiar voice that pulled Twilight from the depths of her slumber.

In her dreams, she had, for once, not been an adventurer, but instead a superhero. Using a powerful armor, she had helped Princesses in distress by defeating evil viziers plotting to take the throne and Duchesses who turned out to be monstrous creatures in disguise. She cracked open an eye, not really seeing but wishing she could go back to the dream. A set of lips planted a soft kiss on her temple and followed it up with a loving nuzzle before disappearing. With a mumbled ‘okay’, she turned around and went back to sleep. Adventure and heroism called. She scarcely even heard the door to her room close.

The second time Twilight was woken up, the memory of her dreams escaped her. She looked up at the mare that, while similar in coat color, was much larger than her mother. “Good morning, Twilight. Ready to get started on your next lesson?”

The Princess’ words spurred her body on, even if her mind needed a little time to process them. “Yes!” The reply came from her mouth before she was really awake and within moments, Twilight was on her hooves, raring to go. “I’m ready, Princess!”

The Princess smiled and motioned to the door with her head. Twilight immediately jumped from the bed and cantered after her mentor. She took a right after leaving her room, only to have to sheepishly backtrack when she finally noticed that the Princess had gone left.

They moved through the castle without regards for any of the colored lines that had been such a successful idea, leaving Twilight to wonder where they were going. That was a distant second thought, however. The cobwebs of sleepiness were still prevalent in her mind, and despite her enthusiasm, she didn’t notice that the Princess was carrying a stack of books along in her magic until they had made their way through at least a dozen hallways.

“Princess? Where are we going?” she asked when the morning light from the windows gradually faded as they moved closer to the mountainside, replaced by the flickering flames of torches that were interspaced on the wall. The torches lit up as they approached, and extinguished themselves after the pair had passed. The Princess did not respond. After a minute or so, they reached a point where the floor began to descend, reminding Twilight of, not one, but several of Daring’s adventures. Entrances into forbidden tombs almost always led downwards. She asked her question again after they followed that path for what felt like half an hour, but again, the Princess did not respond. Then, from one second to the next, the Princess wasn’t walking in front of her anymore, leaving only darkness.

Twilight’s heart jumped into her throat, and while she calmed down again when she found out that her mentor had simply rounded a badly lit corner, she couldn’t help but wonder why the two of them were down here alone. The guards were supposed to protect the Princess, weren’t they? Was this some secret initi— initialation? A secret meeting, where the Princess was going to teach her everything about... things? Twilight frowned.

What if this is where she takes away your magic? the ever present voice of fear in her head whispered. She told them to stay away because she doesn’t want anypony to see how terrible it is when she steals somepony’s magic. Out in the hallways filled with ponies and sunlight, Twilight would have shaken her head at such a silly notion, but down here? All sorts of scary things seemed possible. The ponies she’d heard talk about such things all agreed that the Princess could, and did, take away magic, but none of them had ever told her that they’d seen it themselves. Is that why Aegis and Rook aren’t here?

The thought scared her even more, and her gait faltered. “Princess?” She asked a third time, hesitating between taking another step and galloping back the way they’d come. “Why are we going down here?”

The Princess came to a halt a few paces further and turned around with a reassuring smile. “We’re going to a room deep inside the mountain, Twilight,” she said gently. “There are some spells you need to know before tomorrow, but I want it to be in a safe place where it can’t accidentally hurt anypony.”

Twilight nodded. With the Princess’ explanation, her fearful notions seemed silly once again. Of course the Princess wasn’t going to take her magic away so soon after telling off the Duchess. It was a relief, but it still left the two of them in a darkened corridor that seemed to go on forever. “Princess?” she asked again. “Why is it just us down here? Where’s Aegis? And Rook?”

“They’re taking care of some other arrangements for me,” the Princess replied, motioning for Twilight to continue walking. “Come along now.”

She didn’t know if the Princess expected a reply, but Twilight nevertheless said, “okay, Princess.” With her biggest fear effectively culled, she tried to focus on what lay ahead. Unfortunately, most of what lay ahead was dark, darker, and darkest. It was almost like those dungeons Daring had gotten locked up in after that nasty gin Jafar had cursed her.

The interspacing between the torches had increased somewhere along the way, to the point where they were walking in almost complete darkness before the next one jumped on. During those times, the soft golden glow of the Princess’ horn was the only illumination, and Twilight couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do if she lost sight of the Princess down here.

She quickly came to the conclusion that she could always find her way back with the help of the light spell, even if she’d rather not be down here without somepony else. Experimentally, she stuck out her tongue and focused her thoughts on the tip of her horn, willing her magic to produce light. It worked a lot better than expected. For a brief moment her horn lit up the corridor with a brightness that, in the darkness, seemed brighter than the sun itself.

With a yelp she tried to extinguish the light, and when that didn’t work, she tried to cover her horn with her hooves. It didn’t work, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep the light out.

“Calm down, Twilight,” the Princess’ voice came from somewhere close beside her at the same time as something solid bumped into her horn. Even through her eyelids, Twilight could see the light fade, and once she opened them, the corridor had gone back to being pitch black. She could still feel the Princess’ coat brush against her own however, and even though the torchlight up ahead was muted to the point where she couldn’t really make out anything, Twilight didn’t feel scared.

“Sorry, Princess,” she said softly, blinking several times to try and clear her vision.

When her pupils did dilate enough to be able to see in the dark once more, she caught a brief glimpse of the Princess. The Princess had apparently been at least a little worried about her, though she righted herself and moved on as soon as Twilight got back on her hooves. “Come,” she said with an air of authority that really made her sound like a teacher. “We’re almost there.”

The contrast between the corridor and the room was stark. It had magical lighting, for one, but whereas the corridors had been filled with little more than dust, the room was filled with rocks of all shapes and sizes. The only things that looked like actual furnishings were: a single lounge chair, an ornate wooden table, and a few nailed-to-the-wall wooden planks on which the Princess placed the books she had been holding. It was a room unlike any Twilight had ever seen before, but then, Twilight imagined there were a lot of rooms, even in the castle, that she hadn’t ever seen before.

The last implement in the room, which Twilight only took notice of after the Princess had closed the four inch marble slab that passed for a door, was a blackboard, filled with all manner of complex looking calculations and runes. Calculations she was still trying to make sense of when the Princess spoke up. “Are you ready, Twilight?”

“I’m ready, Princess!” Twilight chirped, turning away from the blackboard. She watched the Princess lift and stack several of the rocks with her magic, and tilted her head in confusion. “Uhm... Princess?”

The Alicorn mirrored her posture, sans the confused expression. “Yes, Twilight?”

“What am I ready for?”

Celestia grimaced. Between dissuading Velvet from the notion of taking Twilight and drafting a basic lesson plan, she had completely forgotten to explain anything about the duel to her student. Worse, she had less than a day to teach Twilight even the most basic of defensive spells if she wanted to protect the filly. Or rather, wanted to teach the filly to protect herself.

Or at least protect her from accidentally killing somepony. Celestia thought wryly. What she said however, was, “Like I said, Twilight. We’re here for your next lesson.”

Twilight grimaced. “I know that, Princess!” she all but whined. “I meant, what kind of spell?”

“Not just one spell. I want to teach you a few of the most basic defensive and offensive spells.”

“Like what?”

“Like focusing your magic into a kinetic strike, or a shield...” Celestia let the sentence hang to get her point across, continuing only when Twilight looked genuinely confused. “The shield you created was very powerful, but it wasn’t exactly...” She let her sentence peter out when she realised that Twilight had several years to go before she could understand a technical explanation. “The shield you created wasn’t exactly safe.”

Twilight nodded, trying not to think about the black bubble of doom, and how frightening an experience that had been. “Is it for the duel?”

That was one question Celestia hadn’t expected. She had intentionally kept her conversations with Velvet about it to a minimum, both because she didn’t want to worry the mare, and because she had no idea how to adequately prepare the filly. And as far as she could recall, she hadn’t talked to Twilight about it either. “Yes, Twilight,” she said at length. “Knowing at least those spells is paramount if you want to stand a chance in the duel tomorrow.”

For a moment, all was silent in the room, though Celestia could clearly see the gears in the filly’s head turning. They must have slipped and skidded to a halt at some point, however, as her next questions were, in order: “Why would I need to learn spells for that?” “Where did you put the lance rack?” “Aren’t I going to need armor?” and “Can I wear your armor?” Which in turn, were followed by a tangent that Celestia had trouble wrapping her head around. “I’m pretty sure that I’d be safe if I wore that, even though it’s probably really heavy. I bet it’s magical enough to resize itself and everything!”

She let Twilight ramble on while she tried to figure out where the miscommunication had happened, which wasn’t as difficult as it first appeared. After she had driven off a particularly nasty yeti, word of her ‘majesty and grace in combat’ — the thought of which still made her scoff, as she didn’t remember being all that graceful — had spread like wildfire. The result had been ponies, calling themselves sun-paladins and dueling for the privilege to receive her blessing. They had fought wrongdoing in her name, even without it, though, and had been as much of a help as they had been a nuisance.

They had been duels meant to test strength, mettle, and conviction. A different time period, of which Twilight had obviously read several novels, or perhaps history books. Unfortunately, they had very little in common with the duel she would be a part of.

After the third revolution of Twilight’s imagination, in which she pictured herself as one of those paladins standing over a slain dragon (with the heroic pose to match), Celestia cleared her throat. “No, Twilight. It’s not that kind of duel. You’ll be involved in a magical duel, which is different in a number of ways."

Twilight slowly lowered her heroic hoof back to the floor and tilted her head. “Different, how?”

“For one, it isn’t about physically overpowering your opponent, per se. It’s all about quick thinking. Using your magic to displace and distract your adversary, and push them out of the ring before they can do the same to you.”

It wasn’t the most comprehensive description of a magic-duel, but Celestia doubted that she could give a much better one without drawing comparisons to things Twilight had probably never even heard of.

“Could I still wear your superhero armor?” Twilight asked after a moment. “It protects against magicky things, right?”

“No, Twilight. You can’t. It might be magical, but that doesn’t mean it automagically resizes itself, or that it would even accept you,” Celestia told her with a sad smile to contrast with the filly’s frown. Another discovery that she hadn’t yet had the chance to properly process or deal with yet. She wasn’t even really sure that she wanted to. “I’m not even sure that I could wear it myself anymore.”

Twilight fidgeted nervously. “So the duel is tomorrow? What if I can’t learn the spells in time? What if I mess it up and...” She looked up with a pained expression. “Can’t you tell ponies it’s next week?”

“No, Twilight, I can’t,” Celestia replied. “I made a promise to the Duchess, and not honoring that promise would...” Her sentence trailed off, but the question picked up speed, thundering through her mind. What would not making Twilight duel impact? Sure, she’d give the Duchess a good bit of political capital, whether she abdicated the claim to the duel or not. It could potentially cause a riot of sorts among the nobles, some of whom would try to use it as a precedent for future dealings, and there was no doubt that her reputation would take a hit. That was the problem with maintaining a reputation in the positive sense of the word, it required a lot of sacrifices.

“Would... what?” came Twilight’s voice.

Celestia hardly even saw the filly, or anything for that matter, her attention focused inward as it was. Am I really going to let my fear of what might happen on the political stage dictate what Twilight has to do? She forced herself to blink and regard the little pony in front of her.

Twilight looked up at her with two deep pools of purple that were trying to hide an entire encyclopedia of emotions. The first and foremost among those emotions that were recognisable, was fear. It ran counter to the filly’s posture; chest out, chin up... tail wrapped just a little too tightly around herself. She was trying to hide just how afraid she was by putting on a brave face, but all it accomplished was remind Celestia that she was just a young filly. And not one that was ready to fight in a duel in any capacity. Political ramifications were one thing, but what would it do to Twilight if she lost? She already had next to no confidence in her own ability, and losing the duel would only reinforce that belief. Moreover, Celestia was all but certain that young Blueblood would have a few choice words for her, were he to win.

“Princess?”

“I’ll...” Celestia let out a curt sigh and painted a smile on her face. “No, Twilight. It doesn’t have to be at all. I’ll tell the Duchess that the duel is off tomorrow.”

Twilight tilted her head. “You will?”

Celestia nodded and picked up one of the books she’d brought along in her magic and carried it over to Twilight. “I will. It’s not important. Let’s get started with your lesson, shall we?” Twilight regarded her suspiciously, but Celestia ignored the stare. She simply went through the motions. Get up, move over, sit down, begin to explain lesson. Simple. She could perform those tasks almost automatically while she considered which ponies would be likely to cause the most trouble.

“If it isn’t important, why did you try to hide it, Princess?”

Another sigh escaped Celestia without her consent. “Because... you’re...” she stopped, frowned and tried again. “Because it is. The duel is important, but not more important than you are. I promised your mother that I would take care of you, and a duel runs counter to that. So just forget all about it and we’ll—”

“If I don’t do it, is it going to cause you problems?” Twilight asked, interrupting her.

“Some problems, yes, but you don’t need to concern yourself with those.”

The filly’s posture changed then. She got up, squared her jaw, and nodded, seemingly to herself. “I’ll do it.”

Celestia couldn’t wrap her head around it. Twilight had much to lose and little to gain from participating in a duel that wasn’t her responsibility to begin with. She was still noticeably scared, and yet she wanted to... “Twilight,” she tried gently. “There’s no need to feel pressured. I promise I can take care of whatever problems may arise from all of this.”

Twilight shook her head. “If I don’t do it, ponies will be mean to you and call you a bad Princess...” Celestia wanted to interrupt her student. Tell her that she was wrong, even if she wasn’t, but Twilight wasn’t finished yet. “And then you have to spend more time in court, and meetings, and even more time calming ponies down, which means that you’ll have less time to teach me things.” Twilight looked up at her with a determination that outshone the fear in her eyes. “Please, Princess?”

After a moment of deliberation, Celestia relented. If she really wants to... who am I to say no? It was an excuse, and she knew it, but it was nice to have somepony that wanted to make things easier for her for a change. Don’t forget Sunny, a little voice in her head reminded her. There were more ponies than just Twilight that wanted to help her, yet somehow, coming from a filly so young, it seemed to matter more.

Twilight seemed pleased, and sat down to look through the book Celestia had put in front of her. That, apparently, meant the conversation was over. And although Celestia quashed the doubts she had against the back of her mind, they kept cropping up. Why was it suddenly so important? Twilight knew that she would have to do those things anyway, didn’t she? Shaking the latest batch out of her head with a swift shake of her head, Celestia focused on the book that Twilight had begun leafing through. If her student wanted to duel, then she was to do what she’d set out to do this morning.

“Are you sure, Princess?” Twilight asked not half an hour later. The princess had shown her parts of what amounted to a runic alphabet. An alphabet that was unlike any she had seen in school before. The pages she’d seen alone already contained more than seventy different runes, all of which had their own words and ideas described below. Before she’d gotten any real chance to study any of them, however, the Princess had taken away the book and drawn a simple five rune sequence on the blackboard.

At the Princess’ direction, she’d spent a little time practicing on pieces of flintstone and rubble around the room. For the first time, she felt pretty good about her magic, right up to the point where the Princess erected a shield around herself and told her to try and break it to the best of her ability.

“Yes, Twilight. I’m sure.” Celestia slowly began walking back and forth across the room. “Blueblood isn’t a rock. He will try to dodge any attack you use against him, so you need to practice on a moving target.”

“But couldn’t I just...”

The Princess chuckled. “You can do it, Twilight. Don’t worry, the shield will make sure that nothing happens to me.”

Biting her lip, Twilight reluctantly aimed her horn in the general direction of the Princess, trying to follow her movement. She missed the first shot, and the second shot went even further off course. The third didn’t come anywhere near the Princess, and the only evidence that Twilight had even fired any spell were the small dust clouds on the wall behind her, which swiftly dissipated. The fourth and fifth shot were a little bit closer, although they were still nowhere near their intended, moving target.

With a small huff, Twilight lifted her head and angled herself a little differently. If she could only get the spells to blast out of the front instead of straight out of her horn, perhaps she could actually see where she was aiming.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to figure it out, and the next half dozen shots were no more accurate, much to Twilight’s frustration. Frustration fueled mostly by her innate perfectionist tendencies. Eleven tries and she was still no closer to achieving the goal the Princess had given her.

Failure tasted bitter, like the wine that her parents had given her to try that one time. Twilight grimaced and widened her stance. It wasn’t just that aiming spells was hard, but the runes made everything more difficult. In some part of her mind, she knew that she was supposed to accomplish her goal by using the tools she had been given, but most of her just wanted—needed—to show the Princess that she wasn’t this bad at aiming, or magic.

In her chest, she felt a spark of determination.

A soft pressure began to build up in her horn, which traveled down to behind her eyes, and got stronger by the moment. It was a strange sensation, but Twilight ignored it. Her next spell was going to be a hit. She could feel it.

Aiming almost felt like an afterthought. She simply looked at the Princess, inclined her head to bring her horn forward, and let go of the spell.

The result was not the barely visible kinetic blast that she’d expected.

The pressure in her horn faded all at once, and translated, not into a small distortion of air, but rather a sphere of magic that was easily thrice as big as she was. It barreled through the air towards the Princess, who immediately layered several more shields over herself.

The impact shook the mountain on its vestiges. Or at least, that’s how it felt to Twilight. She watched with no small amount of horror as the magical sphere collided with the golden shield of the Princess.

Then it exploded, and all she saw were stars.

With a muted groan, Celestia’s eyes fluttered open, only for her to close them again with a hiss of pain. Even without the splitting headache that felt like somepony was trying to pry open her skull, she knew that her shields hadn’t done their job, and she’d hit the back wall with rather more force than expected. The blobs of color slowly resolved themselves into shapes and the room came into view. Everything was at an angle, and it took her a second to realise that she was the one that wasn’t entirely upright.

Trying to push herself upright with a wing only served to make her groan again. A quick look at her side confirmed what the scalding pain had implied: Her right wing had been dislocated, and maybe even broken in places. Examining it further, she found a couple of red streaks across it where blood was seeping out, but there was no indication that anything had pierced the wing, so she let it be and focused on other things.

Her legs felt fine, and surprisingly, so did her ribs. With a brief intake and exhalation, she tried to right herself again, this time managing to get up on her wobbly legs. Her ears were still ringing, but even over the din, she could hear a pony shouting at her.

“—ess?! Princess, are you alright?!”

Raising her gaze from the floor brought a new wave of nausea with it, and she only barely managed to keep her breakfast in. The pony in front of her turned out to be Aegis, whose coat was stained primarily by what looked like strawberry jam, among other things.

“Princess?” He repeated, taking a hobbled step closer, one hoof outstretched towards her.

Celestia clutched her head with a hoof. “I’m fine, Aegis.”

Aegis stepped closer, though he hesitated when he came within touching distance. “Sorry to say Princess, but, no, you’re not.”

Her gaze followed his hoof to her side where she was reminded of the trouble with her wing, which stuck out from her body at an unnatural angle. She felt like scoffing at her bodyguard. This was but a trifle compared to battle wounds she’d sustained in the past. She bit back her sharp retort at the last second, and instead motioned to her wing with her head. “Bite down on it.”

He looked at her. Perplexed. “W-what?”

How can he be a guard and not know basic first aid?! her mind screamed, and Celestia had to pause for a moment to curb her anger at the stallion. “Bite down on the end of my wing, and pull,” she said through gritted teeth. Pulling a wing back into alignment was a painful process, but having somepony to help simplified and speeded it up tremendously.

Aegis gulped, looked at the wing, and licked his lips before cautiously stepping forward. His biting down on the tip of her wing was so gentle as to be imperceptible, and his ‘pulling’ was little more than a tug.

She growled at him. “Harder, Aegis. I’m not made of glass!”

His jaw tensed a few times, and she could feel his teeth testing the surface of her wing for a good place to bite down on. After he finally did, however, he seemed perplexed as to what the next course of action was.

“Pull.” She hissed. When he moved, so did she, pulling away from him in the opposite direction until her wing overstretched. She cried out in pain as Aegis let go of her wing, which popped back into its socket with a sickening sound. It would hurt for a while yet, but it would heal on its own. “Thank you, Aegis,” she panted after it was done, surveying both the room and the dent in the wall behind her.

It was a sizable scar in the otherwise flawless stonework that made up the walls which, unfortunately, had also taken out the planks on which she had placed the books. The books themselves were little more than shreds of paper lazily floating on the air, but she put them out of her mind in favor of something far more pressing.

Twilight.

The filly was lying on her side half a room away. Unmoving. Was she breathing? Celestia took a wobbly step towards the filly, thwarted in her attempted motion when her knees buckled under her and she got another helping of dust. She groaned, raised her head, and shook it. “Aegis. Check on Twilight.”

Either she hadn’t spoken as loudly as she thought, or Aegis simply ignored her words. He instead stepped closer to her with a determined look. “Princess, please. Let me take care of her. We need to get you to a doctor, and—”

“Windigo’s bleeding eyes! Guardsman!” Celestia all but shouted. Why couldn’t he just follow orders the one time she needed him to? “Check up on my student before I make sure you need a doctor yourself!”

He hesitated, looking at her for just a moment before doing as instructed. He walked over to the unconscious Twilight and kneeled beside her. Celestia had trouble making out what he was doing exactly, but after a few moments, he looked up from her and nodded. “She’s fine as far as I can tell, Your Highness. It looks like she has a couple of bruises, but otherwise fine.”

Finally, Celestia let out a breath of relief. It seemed that neither of them had suffered too many injuries. “Good thing you were close. I take it you had food for Twilight?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Had being the operative word.” He indicated his stained coat with a nod of his head. “I dropped everything as soon as I heard the pandemonium down here.”

His concern was commendable at the very least. She nodded. “Mead will understand when you ask him for another portion. Twilight and I need to keep going.”

In an instant, Aegis’ focus shifted from the lost food to Celestia and he looked at her with something akin to outrage, or perhaps disbelief. “Princess, you can’t be serious! You are hurt. You should be resting! It will take me all of ten minutes to round up some qualified individuals to teach her—” he nodded towards Twilight. “—all she needs to know. Or we could do away with the whole duel! Heavens know that it was one of the machinations of the Duchess in the first place!”

The question of Aegis knowing the first thing about how the promise of a duel had come about spawned, was entertained, and thrown out in the span of a second. Celestia masked her pained expression with a stern one and shook her head. “Out of the question.”

“But... why?” Aegis asked passionately. “Surely this duel cannot be so important to you that you would endanger yourself?”

Celestia softened her features when she noticed Aegis’ underlying concern. His actions seemed to be governed by his emotions—genuine care, rather than his sense of duty. “It isn’t half as important to me, as it is for her,” she explained. “If I do decide to give up on the duel at this point, she will forever believe that it was her fault. It will set an example to her saying that she isn’t important, and that I don’t trust her.”

Aegis’ muscles tensed, but when he spoke again, it was in a calm tone of voice. “Princess, she is a nine year old filly. I understand that she is... dear to you,” he looked down at Twilight with a half-smile. “She seems to have that effect on many ponies.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. “But that doesn’t mean that you should go out of your way to accommodate to her whims. Especially ones that could put a strain on the political relations of the country. Not to mention her own well being.”

“You would have me go back on my word not once but twice?” Celestia shook her head. “Not an option. Not only will telling the nobility that the duel is off give the Duchess more political clout than she’d need to cause a whole lot of ‘strain’ as you put it, but Twilight—” she stopped. “Well, I’ve already said what it would be like for Twilight. Besides...” She indicated the wall behind her with a quick nod. “It’s not Twilight getting hurt I’m worried about.” After a moment of looking at the unconscious filly, she added: “So could you please bring us a double portion of food? And perhaps some painkillers?”

He looked at her for a moment, but nodded in the end. “As you wish, Princess.”

“Get a doctor down here if you must, but we need to keep going.”

“Yes, Princess.”

Twilight awoke to a room in ruins, and a distracted, bloodied, Princess. Though it was hard to make out from her position on the floor, Twilight was all but certain that the Princess was hurt. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face which was buried in the plumage of her right wing. The wing also had streaks of red in it. Had she done that?

She remembered a magical sphere impacting the Princess’ shields, but everything after that was one big blank. “Princess?” She almost cowered when the Princess looked up. She looked angry.

Despite her frightening visage, however, her voice was soft when she spoke. “Welcome back, Twilight.”

The Princess’ tone of voice was a little confusing. At odds with her expression at the very least. So maybe she’s only a little bit angry? Twilight swallowed, and followed it up with a loud cough. The dust in the room certainly wasn’t doing her lungs any favors. “Princess? Are you...” She wanted to swallow again but thought better of it. “Are you angry with me?”

“No, Twilight. I’m—” The Princess winced when she tried to take a forward step. After several winces of the variety that made Twilight wince herself to watch, the Princess finally stood in front of her. “I’m not,” she finally said. “Although I think we need to go over the basics of those runes again, and perhaps have a talk as to why they’re important.”

Twilight did not reply immediately. Not only because she didn’t want the Princess to know that none of this would have happened if she’d just remembered to use them, but much more because her mentor was hurt. Very badly hurt. “Princess,” she said when she finally opened her mouth, “You need to go to the doctor.” The authority she wanted to infuse her words with was lost through the little hiccup halfway. She had messed up again. And the Princess had gotten hurt. Again.

“I can’t, Twilight. If you want to participate in the duel, we need to continue practicing.”

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. She’d wanted to help the Princess, but instead she’d only gotten her hurt. The Princess paid Twilight’s frown little mind, and limped over to the blackboard that had thankfully escaped the destruction. At that exact moment, Twilight made a decision: If the Princess wasn’t going to go to the doctor, then the doctor would have to come to the Princess. Keeping her eyes on the wounded Alicorn, she carefully moseyed over to the door, and disappeared through it once she was certain that her mentor’s attention was somewhere else.

All she had to do was walk through the many dark corridors by herself until she found her way back to where the Castle-navigational-lines began. After that, it was just a matter of following those to the infirmary. Easy peasy.

Twilight swallowed her heart back down and set out to do just that.

Celestia leaned against a wall right outside of what she was considering calling the Canterlot Catacombs. Sure, no ponies were actually buried there, but the visitation rate left something to be desired. Why did we build it in the first place? She shook her head. She couldn’t remember who had even built it, and she had more important things to be worried about anyway. Things like finding and dealing with an unruly student who had run away from her.

She knew why. Or at least, thought she did. Twilight’s look just before she disappeared had closely resembled the one Aegis had given her earlier, albeit with much of the respect for her station replaced by a more fearful children’s worry. None of which changed the fact that it had forced her to walk all the way back on unsteady (and painful) limbs which threatened to give out with every step she took. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and all of the small aches on her body made themselves known, to say nothing of the more major ones. Growling under her breath, she swore that she would think up some way to punish Twilight for doing this to her. A stern talking to at the very least.

She continued her trek, having to stop several times to either catch herself, or her breath. At one point, her right leg slipped and after a few scrambling paces, she found herself wobbling like a drunken pony, front legs crossed and hind legs quivering. She made it through a dozen more corridors before she found her quarry. Twilight came around the corner ahead of her, followed by Aegis, Rook, and more than half of the infirmary staff.

“Princess!” As one, the entire group rushed forward and surrounded her. Twilight fixed her with puppy dog eyes, while all others were wearing concerned frowns.

She decided to focus on Aegis, simply because looking at Twilight for any length of time made it more and more difficult to remain angry with the filly. “I said you could bring a doctor to me if you absolutely had to,” she told her guard gruffly. “Not an entire hospital.”

“I did, but when Twilight showed up, practically screaming that you had been hurt, there wasn’t much I could do to stop ponies from going—”

“Enough!” One of the doctors rudely interrupted, pushing Aegis out of the way using his entire body. “The Princess is hurt and we have no time to stand around talking.” He looked back and motioned towards Celestia with his head. “Bring the cart.”

Only once ponies started moving out of the way did Celestia see the oversized stretcher that they had apparently been rolling along with them. She despised the thing immediately. It signified that she was weak. Too weak to perform even the most basic of motor functions.

“I can walk,” she growled, not so much to the doctor as to the entire group.

“I’m sure you are capable, Princess,” the doctor that had spoken up before retorted, “But merely by looking at you, I can tell that you are gravely injured. In my professional medical opinion, you look like a wreck, and you shouldn’t be walking. So please, get on the stretcher.”

The trip to the infirmary was a short one, and with so many medical personnel crowding around her, Celestia didn’t see Twilight again for almost an hour. Cuts were cleaned and treated; bruises, even though they were already healing, got wrapped with gauze by an overzealous nurse; and the doctor in charge held his tirade against her while all of it happened.

“With all due respect, Princess, I must say that I am distressed by the recent spike in harmful situations. We are doctors, not miracle workers, and over the last couple of weeks, you’ve...” He glanced at a clipboard he was holding. “You’ve gotten hurt four times, which, need I remind you, is a four hundred percent increase over the decade prior to that. And three of those incidents were magic related. You should be happy that none of them were serious!”

Only half of what he said registered. Many of her injuries had been serious or were still serious, though apparently he was one of those doctors that described only terminal injuries as serious. She tried to listen, really she did, but the withdrawal of her magic to speed up recovery, and the irritation of being treated once again like she were made of glass, stifled her willingness further. “Times change, doctor,” she said lethargically. “As much as I would wish it, I do not control all magical forces in the world.”

The doctor snorted. “The least you could do is stop putting yourself in front of them.”

Through half-lidded eyes, Celestia scanned the room, finding Twilight somewhere near the door. The filly was watching the goings on with a worried expression while trying to stay out of the way of all the ponies in white coats. Probably worrying about how all of it is her fault... Celestia sighed softly. “Thank you for your concern, doctor,” she said. “I’m certain that with your expert help, I’ll be good as new in no time at all.”

It was a clear dismissal. Politely phrased, but a dismissal regardless. The doctor, however, shook his head. “I don’t think so, Princess. I told you last time that you should rest for at least a week. Exerting yourself like this is only going to make the recovery process that much more difficult. You need to stay in bed for at least a month if not more, and—”

Celestia was already shaking her head when he had gotten to the ‘bed’ part of the sentence. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, doctor. I need to be present for an important event tomorrow, however...” She offered him the sweetest smile she had on offer, what with the pain and all. “I promise you that I will march myself back here the moment that is finished.”

The doctor made a few fish-out-of-water motions with his mouth before shutting it and grumbling to himself. He knew as well as she did that he had no real power to stop her, though that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to follow his advice the moment she got a hint of respite.

Respite... Over the last couple of years, it seemed that respite was an ever more elusive commodity, and now, with Twilight, it seemed more elusive still. After the doctor moved on to see to some of the other ponies in the infirmary, Twilight slowly made her way to the bed Celestia was lying on, eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Princess.”

Celestia harrumphed. “I know what happened and I’ll need to think of a suitable punishment for it later,” she said, making Twilight wilt in anticipation. “For now, however...” she grunted while trying to make herself more comfortable on the bed while simultaneously allowing a little space for Twilight to sit. She tapped it with a hoof and smiled at Twilight. “You still need to prepare for the duel. And if you can’t practice, the least I can do is explain the theory behind the runes.”

That put a smile on Twilight’s face as well, and, earlier hesitance forgotten, the filly enthusiastically jumped onto the bed. It only hurt a little bit when her weight settled on the mattress.

The Duel

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Celestia awoke with a pained groan. Her head was pounding like somepony had repurposed it as a drum, and a stiffness in her neck suggesting that she’d slept in the same position all night. A probable result of her desire not to crush her student with any ill-advised movement, but no less frustrating for knowing its origin. Even the bandages that the doctors had wrapped around her chest, despite her objections, chafed and irritated.

She blinked a few times, trying to moisten her eyes so they would stop feeling like sandpaper, and looked around the room. The medical wing of the castle was almost completely empty, save for some of the night staff who were finishing up their shift. The sun had yet to rise, and for just a moment, she wished that she had created some sort of back-up to do it for her.

One brief moment of concentration and a spike in her headache later, the first light of the morning began filtering through the windows. Upon which she realised that her surroundings had changed. Or, more specifically, that the purple filly that had been on her bed for most of the previous day (and subsequent night) had vanished.

From what she knew of Twilight, the filly was nothing if not a heavy sleeper. Having her wake up before Celestia herself (and more importantly, before dawn) was worrisome. Or she hasn’t slept at all because of the nerves. Celestia sighed. It certainly explained why Twilight wasn’t on the bed. Inquisitive was a good trait for a student to have, but Twilight definitely balanced it out with impatience and restlessness. She needed to be challenged.

Which... did not explain where the filly had gone.

Celestia hoisted herself out of the bed with some difficulty and made for the door, stopping only briefly to tell one of the nurses to pass along a message. Outside the door, she caught Aegis’ eyes. The guard pony looked much more worried about the state she was in than she did herself, but did not protest when she asked him for Twilight’s whereabouts.

That stoic silence which was so characteristic for the Royal Guard was somehow off-putting. Perhaps it was due to the fact that, while he did not speak, Aegis kept looking back at her, as though he didn’t trust her to be able to follow him. “I’m fine, Aegis,” she said exasperatedly when he turned his head for the fifth time since they’d left the infirmary.

“With all due respect, Princess. I’m not so sure.” Aegis stopped walking and turned to face her completely. “I know it’s not my job to question your decisions...” He petered out and licked his lips.

“But?” Celestia prompted him.

“But between making Twilight fight in that duel, and the fact that you end up hurt more often than not when you try to teach her magic...” He sighed.

A tightness warred with an intense anger in Celestia’s chest. “Please don’t tell me you believe the crackpot theories that reporter has been spouting...”

Aegis shook his head in response.

“Then what? Convinced that Twilight is ‘too powerful’?” She gave Aegis no chance to reply, taking a step towards him while she talked with an ever increasing intensity. “Tell me something, Aegis. Did I, or did I not tell you that I would bleed if I were stabbed by a spear?”

The guard gulped and nodded. “Yes, Princess. Although technically—”

Another step. The air around her mane and tail sparked and sizzled. “And tell me, would it matter if that spear was held by a minotaur or a young colt?”

“I guess... somewhat. Minotaurs are significantly stronger, although their lack of agility would make it much easier to—”

“It was a rhetorical question, guardsman,” Celestia growled, taking one last step that put her muzzle inches from his. “The answer is no, it doesn’t. Just because Twilight hasn’t learned how to control her magic, doesn’t mean that any of my injuries wouldn’t have happened had it been somepony else!”

She towered over him, easily twice his size, and stronger than anypony alive, but dammit, that didn’t mean that she was invulnerable! She noticed his eyes dart from hers, down to her lips and then back up again. It created a spark of unease within the swirling maelstrom that was her mind. High tension situations tended to draw out subconscious, or even conscious desires and she could not handle any of that right now. There was too much on her mind already.

Luckily, what Aegis found instead was his spine. He straightened his back and looked up at her with steel in his eyes. “Permission to speak freely, Princess?”

Celestia pulled back a ways, reigning in her anger. It wasn’t without difficulty, however. Her ire still boiled under the surface, and her teeth were beginning to ache from the gnashing she was subjecting them to, but at the very least she wasn’t about to set the air around her on fire anymore. She nodded curtly. “Speak.”

“The question you asked me wasn’t rhetorical at all,” he began. “Circumstances always matter in combat, as they do anywhere else. If you were stabbed by a spear, yes, I believe you would bleed, but there are a multitude of decisions and actions that could have been taken before you got to that point. A Minotaur would do a lot more damage because there is more muscle behind the stab, but they are generally less accurate because of it, meaning you could have avoided his attack altogether.” Celestia opened her mouth with a retort on her lips, but Aegis pressed on. “Similarly, while I believe that there are some things nopony can foresee happening, I don’t believe for an instant that you would have been injured yesterday, had that spell come from anypony other than Twilight. I’ve seen you defend yourself from magical attacks with ease, even if that was just for show.”

Celestia regarded her bodyguard, with a newfound respect. Her anger subsided. He had taken the wind right out of her sails.

He’s right. “Perhaps.” Her reply was tentative at best. She wasn’t ready, or perhaps willing, to let go of her anger just yet.

“Maybe you didn’t see it coming, or couldn’t get out of the way fast enough...” He took a deep breath. “But I’ve seen you use magic often enough that I know you could pull up a shield faster than I can say the word.”

“Your point? Are you suggesting you want to be present for all of my lessons with her? Throw yourself in front of me should something else go wrong?” The fire in Celestia’s chest had died out, and all that remained was a profound feeling of exhaustion.

To her surprise, Aegis chuckled. “No, Princess. Not like that. I doubt it would do any good. But pushing Twilight into something she’s clearly not ready for, and having accidents occur as a result... might not be the best decision you’ve ever made.”

Celestia plastered a passable smile on her face. It had been lost in her anger, but now she felt a dull pain in her chest with every breath. “You... might be right.”

“What I’m saying, Princess... Is...” He opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked down at the floor for what felt like forever. “What I’m saying is, everypony counts on you. We’d be lost without our Princess to lead the country. So perhaps it would be a good idea to take a few more precautions? While teaching Twilight magic at any rate...” She noted a faint flush peeking out from behind the face-protection of his helmet. “Although I wouldn’t mind watching your lessons with her...” He flushed further and shook his head. “To look for possible areas of improvement, if nothing else.”

A cavalcade of possible responses from the dismissive to the outright insulting paraded through Celestia’s head, spawns of her anger, no doubt. Rather than choose any of them, she said, “Forgive me, Aegis. I have not been having the best of times lately. You’re right, and I would be pleased if you helped me make things a little safer for everypony involved. Now, if that is all... I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I’m hungry. So unless you have more to say, I would like to get to the Dining Hall.”

Aegis smiled. A little sheepishly, if Celestia read him right. “Yes, of course, Princess.”

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on the perspective, they ran into the ‘yea or nay’ crowd on the way there. The crowd whose questions had grown in volume and urgency for every moment she had managed to evade them. So by the time they arrived at their destination, ‘breakfast’ had become ‘brunch’.

She was used to a ripple of silence accompanying her entrance, which made it all the more curious when it didn’t happen. The stares, on the other hoof, were new. Not exactly unexpected, but new. As was the self-conscious feeling that crept up on her. Did she feel that way because of the obvious signs that she'd gotten hurt? She swallowed her trepidation and shook her head, walking across the hall with a renewed understanding of how Twilight felt.

When she came to her table, she found a Twilight... made of waffles. And across from the waffle-Twilight, she found the genuine article. The two seemed to be locked in a contest of wills, Twilight trying with all her might not to blink, while her confectionary counterpart tried its hardest not to droop under the enormous amounts of syrup that had been poured all over it.

“Mr. Mead? Do I really need to eat all of this to win the duel?” the filly asked, looking past the floury facsimile of herself.

Mead, who’d just left the kitchens with over a dozen plates stacked on his back in a very intricate pattern winked at Celestia and indicated Twilight with his head before giving her a big smile. “Completely sure,” he then told the filly with a completely straight face; “it’s an old Earthpony training ritual. ‘Beating yourself by eating yourself!’”

“Who came up with that?” Twilight yelled after him, picking up a fork with her magic and hesitantly poking at the food with it. “It’s bigger than I am! How would it even fit?”

Mead laughed out loud, and even Celestia had to suppress a giggle while she stepped up behind Twilight. The filly didn’t seem to have noticed her, engrossed by, and hesitantly poking at her pseudo-meal. It provided her with a moment to study the non-Twilight. Up close, it was clearly made out of waffles, with all that entailed. The horn drooped, the eyes lacked pupils or even any real depth, and one of the ears was missing a piece, to name but a few of the flaws. None of which detracted from the fact that it was modeled after Twilight. It made her wonder how many unicorns Mead had asked to assist him with that little project, and to what degree his uncanny ability to make food turn out in the way he desired had played into its creation.

She also worried that its consumption might send Twilight into a food induced stupor.

“The magic of fine cuisine, Twilight. ” Mead declared with a grand flourish after he returned. He smiled again and made a small gesture to Celestia with his chin. “And in case it doesn’t, you could always ask the Princess to help you with it.”

Twilight turned around so quickly that she almost fell off of the chair she’d been sitting in. “Good morning, Princess!” She chirped, with a smile that was a lot happier than what Celestia had expected.

“Good morning, Twilight.”

“Mead made me breakfast!” Twilight continued, presenting the waffle-Twilight as one would present the star of a catwalk modeling scene.

Celestia smiled goodnaturedly. “So I see.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Stepping in close, Celestia took the time to deliberately inspect the breakfast pony from up close. “Hmmm...” She pulled her face into a thoughtful frown and watched Twilight from the corner of her eyes. “I have to say, it does remind me of someone... I just can’t put my hoof on who.”

“It’s me!” Twilight hopped up on the table and stood next to the wilting statue and looked straight ahead for about three seconds before she turned back to Celestia. “You see?”

Celestia made a big show of comparing the breakfast and the filly, letting out the occasional ‘hmmm’ or ‘I see’ as she did so. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, I see the resemblance. Although it seems more... sticky, and it also seems to be drooping more to the left than you are.”

“That’s because it’s waffles,” Twilight replied with the infinite wisdom that only children possessed.

Celestia chuckled heartily. “So it is.” She turned her attention to Mead while internally debating whether to praise him for his artistry, or scold him for the sheer notion of a waffle-pony. The spot where the chef-cook had been was empty. He had, perhaps wisely, gone back to work, so she looked to Twilight instead. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with your lookalike yet?”

Twilight shrugged. “Mead said that I should eat it...” She looked to Celestia in confusion. “Is there anything else I could do with it?”

The idea of preserving the confectionary lay on the tip of Celestia’s tongue but she swallowed it. “Nothing, Twilight. Forget I said anything.” She finally took her seat and let out a sigh of relief when the pain in her chest eased up a little. Twilight had gone back to looking at her breakfast, but wasn’t otherwise making a move to get started. Understandable, it was a rather monumental task to entrust to one filly. Much like the duel you’re having her fight. Celestia thought sourly.

She had spent most of the previous day explaining the theory behind the runes to Twilight, which the filly seemed to respond better to than a practical demonstration had. By the time evening had rolled around, she’d switched topics, or rather, talked with Twilight about the duel and everything she thought the filly should know. In between, she’d carefully quizzed her student on the how’s and why’s of her motivations pertaining said duel, but hadn’t come up with a satisfying answer.

Twilight didn’t seem worried by the upcoming fight, which made Celestia all the more sure that she hadn’t explained herself properly. While unicorn duels were no longer fatal (she had outlawed that very possibility centuries ago) there was still a very real danger of injury, especially on Blueblood’s part. While she wasn’t entirely sure if Blueblood could muster anything powerful enough to cause any lasting harm, Twilight most certainly could.

If Twilight won, the Duchess would make a big stink about it. She’d accuse Twilight (and perhaps Celestia herself) of cheating, and would find some other way to make Celestia’s life miserable. That would be the least of it. If Twilight lost however...

Celestia looked up from her thoughts to find Twilight looking at her, with the vague notion that she’d missed something. “Um... I’m sorry, Twilight, did you say something?”

“I said: ‘Will you help me eat it?’” the filly repeated. “It... it looks yummy but I think my tummy would explode if I tried to eat all of it.”

“I think you’re right about that. Of course I’ll help,” Celestia replied. With all the food that had been brought to them in the medical wing the previous day, she wasn’t exactly hungry. But she could do with a little treat. She quickly plucked the knife from Twilight’s magic with her own, and proceeded to cut the waffle pony into pieces that actually fit on a plate. She hadn’t forgotten the incident, and wasn’t keen on a repeat performance.

Mead was the best cook. Twilight had suspected that he might not be as good as her mother when she first came to the castle (mothers were magical that way), but now with a mouthful of Waffle-Twilight, she was convinced that he had to be the best chef in Equestria, maybe ever.

Surprisingly, eating her way through half of her breakfast was a cinch. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the Princess ate two plates for every one she did, but it was still easier than expected. Perhaps Mead made it hollow? She let her gaze drift across the room while she munched on a mouthful of waffle, until she came to the bandages that were wrapped around the Princess’ chest. “Princess?” she asked, sending bits of waffle flying across the table.

The Princess looked at her and shook her head. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Twilight.”

The Princess sounded like her father, which briefly distracted Twilight with thoughts of her parents. Her mother’s visit had made her realise just how much she missed them, and she wished that her father would show up today, if only so she could give him a hug and show how much she’d already learned. Once the contents of her mouth were on their way to her stomach, she focused on the Princess again. “Princess, why did you lie to all those ponies?”

She had to wait until the Princess had swallowed her own bite of waffle-twilight, and giggled at the thought of the Princess eating her, waffle clone though it might be.

“Because ponies have certain preconceptions, Twilight. And letting those persist could create a lot of problems for the both of us in the future.” She sighed and speared another piece of Twilight to her fork. “It’s not something you need to be worried about. You should to focus on the duel.”

Twilight didn’t know what preconcepters were, but she understood enough of the answer to know that the Princess wasn’t happy about it. Perhaps she shouldn’t continue asking questions if that were the case, she didn’t want to upset the Princess after all. Twilight frowned. But if the Princess was already upset, how could she help if she didn’t know what the problem was? The conundrum occupied her for a good long while, without leading to any kind of solution.

“Are you ready to go Twilight?”

When she looked up from her plate, the food was gone, and the Princess was smiling again. Perhaps it hadn’t been a big problem after all? She shook her head. Of course it hadn’t been. The Princess always knew what to do.

“No? What’s wrong?” The Princess scooted closer to her seat, and draped a wing over her back, making Twilight feel like one of the luckiest fillies alive. “You don’t have to go to the duel if you don’t want to Twilight,” she said, looking a little worried.

Twilight shook her head again. “I can do it, Princess.” She knew she could. She’d been trained by the Princess herself after all, and Blueblood was just a meany. Getting off of the chair took her a few seconds, dangling feet and all, but after she had accomplished that task, she skipped to the doors that marked the entrance to the dining hall. She came to a halt there with the realisation that the Princess hadn’t told her where the duel would be taking place. “Where are we going exactly?”

“To the duel, Twilight,” came the reply from the Princess who seemed in no hurry to follow her.

Twilight groaned. “I know that,” she said deliberately. It was as if the Princess thought she’d forgotten what they had talked about the previous night. She hadn’t, of course, hearing that she had to be careful and use the runes the Princess had shown her a dozen times was more than enough to make understand the importance of the request. Eleven more times than needed as far as she was concerned. “I mean... where are we going? Do duels happen in a special dueling room? Or maybe on the guards’ training field?”

The Princess smiled at her and said, “Something like that. Follow me.”

Following the Princess was something Twilight only managed half the time while they made their way through the castle. The rest she spent skipping ahead, waiting for the Princess to catch up, and imagining how proud the Princess was going to be when she won the duel. They followed the purple line indicating the path to the observatory, and for a while, Twilight believed that was where they were going. Right up to the point that the Princess took a right, and then another right, went up a flight of stairs and...

There were several more twists and turns in their journey but Twilight had no idea where they were by the end of it. Obviously her ‘Color Coded Castle’ initi- inita... idea hadn’t been extensive enough and would have to be extended in future. As it was, she recognised the surroundings as belonging to the castle, but wondered if they saw much use. It wasn’t a grand dueling hall, nor was it a military training ground of sorts. No, all she could figure was that it was an area mainly used for storing old things. Lots and lots of old things.

“What are we doing here, Princess?” she asked when she ran out of real-estate to skip through. Turning back, she found the Princess following her at the same sedate, almost hesitant, pace that she’d kept up the whole time.

The Princess stopped at the last door Twilight had skipped past. “This is where the duel will take place, Twilight.”

“Oh.”

Twilight walked back to the door, watching the Princess look herself over for seemingly no reason. Perhaps she wanted to look good for the ponies that would be watching the duel? She looked as pretty as ever as far as Twilight was concerned, but then, she always thought the Princess looked pretty.

“Make sure that the duel stays private,” Celestia said, turning to Rook.

It made Twilight aware just how little she thought about the guards that followed Celestia on any given moment. Both Rook and Aegis seemed like nice ponies to her, and the fact that they would have to stay outside disappointed her. She wanted them to see her win too.

“Are you ready, Twilight?”

Twilight was ready. More than ready in fact. She had been ever since their conversation from the previous night. She had been taught the difference between the old runes, and the ‘new’ ones she’d been taught at school; how the system had evolved alongside ponies’ understanding of magic; and last but not least, told the Princess just how she thought about magic. She was ready for this. Sure, there was the occasional tremor in her left hoof, but that was because she was excited, and nothing else.

The Princess was still looking at her. “Remember the runes, Twilight. No throwing ponies through walls today,” she said with a wink.

Twilight looked up at her and nodded, her own smile hesitant, but definitely present. “Okay.” She closed her mouth, only to realise that she hadn’t yet said that she was ready. “I’m ready,” she said, perhaps a little quickly.

The Princess nodded and grabbed hold of the door with her magic, winced, and then used a hoof to push it open. Her wince made Twilight flinch as well. If not for her, the Princess wouldn’t be in pain...

“Alright then,” the Princess said with a deep intake of breath. She looked as though she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Twilight felt more determined than ever to make that weight just a little lighter if she could.

The first thing Celestia noted when she stepped into the room, aside from young Blueblood, was the fact that neither of the two ponies behind him were his parents. His father’s absence was, perhaps, not surprising, given that he had left both him and his mother for a mistress several years prior. The Duchess’s absence was worrying, however. If anything she had expected the mare to violate their agreement to keep things secret and show up with as many friends as she could cajole into coming along.

The Duchess was very much a mare who loved to gloat.

“Blueblood? What’s going on here?” She said, focusing her attention on the young colt.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, one of the two stallions standing behind him stepped forward and spoke up. “Forgive us, Princess. The Duchess very much wanted to be present for the event, but was otherwise engaged. Bladed Edge and I,” he gestured to the stallion beside him. “Have both worked tirelessly to prepare the young master for this duel, along with Double Cross who is unfortunately running late. We humbly request that we be allowed to stay and watch.” He made a vague gesture. “To monitor his progress as much as to provide moral support.”

Blueblood grimaced and shot a dirty look at the stallion before adding, “I was about to say that very thing.” He then looked at Twilight and managed an impressive sneer while looking smug at the same time. “Mother hired some of the best dueling teachers in the country to tutor me. Do you really think you have any chance of winning? You’re just a stupid filly that doesn’t know how to use spells properly.”

Despite his bravado, Blueblood looked tense. Wasn’t he as sure of his victory as he made it seem? Or was there something else? Celestia eyed the stallions standing behind him. The two were sharing a look, and she didn’t recognise either one. But then... she hadn’t kept up with the dueling circuit for the last two-hundred years. Perhaps he was just put off by the fact that his mother was absent. The two were rarely seen apart, and today especially, should be no different.

Celestia stepped forward. Thanks to Blueblood’s own mother, she’d had a conversation with Twilight’s and learned that she had been a victim of bullying since she’d started school. Celestia was not about to allow him to use that against her.

Twilight, beat her to any sort of reply, however. “Well,” the filly said, pausing to take a deep breath. “If I’m stupid, then you’re a double stupid, stupid, meany who is stupid. The Princess taught me lots of spells, and she knows magic better than anypony.” She stuck her tongue out for good measure, which only seemed to incense Blueblood further.

Celestia cut them off. Breaking their line of sight with a wing. “That’s enough, both of you.” She looked at Blueblood with a disapproving frown. “I expected better from you, Blueblood. You were supposed to be the more mature contestant here.”

The colt calmed down, and shrugged. “Everything is allowed in a duel, if you can put the other pony off balance you’ve already put the odds in your favor,” he said, earning him an approving nod from the two stallions behind him.

What has the dueling scene come to? Celestia wondered silently. There had apparently been a lot of changes in the time since she’d stopped participating in the scene, and not all for the better. “Well,” she said. “For this duel, insults will not be allowed. From either of you.” She spared a glance at Twilight who nodded up to her.

Blueblood, eventually, nodded as well. “I understand,” he said begrudgingly.

“I take it your teachers,” she looked at both stallions while speaking. “Explained the rules to you?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. You will both be expected to keep to those rules. Are you ready to begin, Blueblood?”

The colt stepped into the chalk outline that had been drawn on the ground for the occasion. “I’m ready,” he said confidently.

Celestia looked down at the filly beside her. Twilight was frowning and muttering to herself about colts being stupid. “Are you ready, Twilight?” she asked gently.

When Twilight looked back up at her, her face was a mask of grim determination. “I’m ready, Princess.”

Again, Celestia wondered if she was making a mistake. She’d worried about Twilight for the longest time, but she hadn’t given much thought to the damage her student could cause if she ignored the older set of runes. As much as she disliked Blueblood, she didn’t wish him a multitude of broken bones, or worse.

Leaning down while keeping her wing in place felt awkward, the bandages doing a good job of restricting movement. She ignored the feeling and lowered her head towards Twilight. “You can do it, Twilight,” she said softly. “Kick his flank.”

Twilight nodded, and stepped into the ring, brushing against the lower feathers of Celestia’s other wing as she went.

Before Twilight had good and well stepped into the ring, a blast of compressed air whizzed past her head. Only the fact that she'd skittishly jumped to the side as soon as it happened, prevented the next blast from hitting her. The second blast had been just as poorly aimed as the first, and would have hit the Princess square in the face had she not pulled up a quick shield. That made Blueblood hesitate with his next attack, which gave Twilight barely enough time to construct a shield of her own.

The fight was on.

Having to thread magic through runes one by one felt slow and cumbersome, like trying to stitch two pieces of cloth together using nothing but her hooves; and while Twilight dutifully paid heed to her mentor's warnings, it wasn’t without a dose of panic. She was used to the orderly rhythm of practice, wherein the Princess waited for her to construct a shield before beginning her assault. Doing it the ‘right’ way under fire, was more akin to keeping pace with a dance she didn’t know the steps to. It took longer because she just wasn’t used to thinking about spells that way. Much longer. The longer it took, the more panicked she became. And the more adrenaline coursed through her system, the harder it was to get the spell right.

Blueblood had no such problems with his casting, and his next attack exhausted its energy on her freshly created shield. Despite the awkward casting method, and her flustered state, it seemed easier to actually get spells to actually do what she wanted. Was that why everypony learned to use runes? Another spell slammed into the shield leaving a little crack that quickly spread. She gulped, and quickly got to work on creating a second shield. Perhaps the questions were better left for later. Blueblood was sneering at her again. “What’s the matter, filly? Too afraid to attack?” He fired another salvo of magic. This one even less accurate than the last. “I bet you couldn’t even land a hit.”

Twilight wasn’t too sure either, but she was surely going to try. As soon as she got the chance, anyway. Blueblood’s spells tore into her shields just as soon as she created them, and he didn’t seem to let up. She was, however, starting to calm down a little. None of the spells had actually hit her yet, and she had some time if she was smart about it. While Blueblood’s attacks whittled down her fifth shield, she got to work on preparing two blasts of her own at the same time. It took her longer still, but if magic could levitate multiple things at the same time, why shouldn’t she be able to create two simultaneous attacks? Or even three?

As soon as cracks began to appear in her shield, she leapt out from behind it and threw her spells at the colt across the room. She watched them soar, the first missing Blueblood by a hair, and the second one hitting him square in the chest. It accomplished little more than pushing him back several inches towards the chalk outline, but she still whooped in joy.

Apparently she could land a hit.

Unfortunately, she had been so focused on the trajectory of her own spells that she had forgotten to mind her surroundings. The last of the bolts Blueblood had fired before she’d hit him came in from an odd angle, hitting her in the leg, which made her lose her footing.

The world tilted sideways, and she hit the floor with an audible ‘thunk’. She was up again in an instant, wordlessly berating herself for not paying attention. The fear was all but gone, however. She knew she could beat him. The theory she’d talked about with the Princess hadn’t gone beyond a simple attack, and a simple shield. She hadn’t seen Blueblood use anything else either, but it seemed so... restrictive.

With half an eye on Blueblood who, curiously, hadn’t resumed his attacks either, she began rearranging the runes in her head. Perhaps she could use them to make a spell that she hadn’t learned about yet.

Blueblood created a shield that was easily twice his size, and the moment it was done, he cast a questioning glance at his teachers. They, and the Princess, had moved along the outer edge of the circle, positioning themselves halfway towards the outer wall, sitting together in front of the window while they observed the duel. Twilight thought she saw a nod from one of them, but she couldn’t be sure.

She did not get the time to ponder why. Blueblood quickly renewed his assault and she was forced to dodge a rapid fire succession of spells. There was no more talk from the colt. No more taunting. Blueblood was fighting to win. The way he went about it though, she found questionable on several levels.

He kept a layer of two shields in front of him at all times and pressed his attacks time and time again. Even after moving to the dead center of the ring while he flung spell after spell at her with increasing inaccuracy, he still kept up both an impressive offence and what looked to be an impenetrable defense. It wasn’t entirely ineffective, as he did manage to hit her twice more — each hit feeling like somepony had punched her — but the rate at which he was going would tire him out before long.

All she needed to do, she realised, was wait him out. It would be as simple as keeping up a shield or two and hunkering down while he exhausted himself. As soon as the thought came to her, however, she shook her head slightly and set her jaw. This duel was her chance to prove to the Princess that she could take care of herself, and that wasn’t going to happen if she cowered behind a shield.

She dodged to the side when her latest shield faltered and tried a rearranged series of runes in her head. The iteration put the rune Celestia had told her meant ‘shield’ together with the one for ‘power’ and ‘movement’ and four others whose purpose she didn’t quite understand. The effect wasn’t as useful as she’d hoped, or at all for that matter. Rather than create a shield that moved with her, the barrier moved on its own in seemingly random directions. It almost shoved her out of the circle in a sudden sweep, after which she quickly circled around to the other side of the room. Apparently there was another rune she needed for that to work, or perhaps it had something to do with the sequence in which she activated them?

In the brief respite in between attacks, during which she heard Blueblood’s panting and saw the sweat drip down his face, Twilight tried again. She changed up the order into one that more closely resembled the attack sequence she’d been taught and wove her magic through it in quick succession. The effect was as visually spectacular as it was dangerous. Rather than a painful, but reasonably small pocket of compressed air, the much larger shield she created shot forward. It impacted with Blueblood’s shields, creating a loud crack like a thunderbolt striking the earth, and causing an explosion that distorted the vision of everypony in the room.

Once the dust settled, Twilight blinked and shook her head, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. The first thing she found was the window, which had unfortunately shattered. Second, was the mare the stallions had been talking about, head bowed and whispering things to both of said stallions. Third, but certainly not least, was her opponent. Blueblood looked just as dazed as she felt, but after he too shook it off, she found something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen there before.

Fear.

“T-that’s cheating!” he stammered, looking around for their spectators. “That’s against the rules, right?” he asked, his voice cracking when one of his teachers shook his head. “She’s not allowed to blow up the room like that is she?!”

“As long as it does not permanently injure or alter, most any spell is allowed during a duel, Blueblood,” the Princess replied coolly. “Surely you remember that much from your lessons?”

Twilight found the perfect opportunity to win the duel staring her in the face when Blueblood actually turned away from her to shout at his teachers. And even though a small voice in the back of her mind whispered about the ease with which she could take home a win, she already knew that she wouldn’t do it. She was going to win fair and square, and the Princess would be proud of her.

It didn’t mean that she remained idle, however. While the first one had been a bust, and the second one had proved effective though dangerous, she was already combining and recombining the runes in her head. She prepped a new sequence and waited for Blueblood to turn back around so the fight could resume. She did not have to wait long.

Without any official proclamation of the duel continuing, or even any real warning for that matter, Blueblood stormed towards her as soon as he turned around, preceded only by the spells he had apparently been preparing while turned around. It caught Twilight by surprise and she ate two consecutive blasts of magic to her torso and face respectively. Her head spun all over again and it felt like her teeth rattled in her mouth.

His attacks pushed her dangerously close to the edge of the circle as well. Her left hind hoof all but touched the line, and from what the Princess had told her, even a single step out of the bounds of the arena meant a loss. Panic blossomed in her chest and she unleashed the spell she had been preparing without making sure it had been correctly threaded through each of the runes.

The resulting spell did little more than create a pocket of frigid air that turned each and every exhalation in the room into a wispy white cloud. Fortunately, it bewildered Blueblood just long enough for Twilight to dance out of harm’s way. She hopped, skipped, tripped, and skidded around him until she landed in the center of the circle face first.

Before she had a chance to recover, Blueblood lunged at her, and she had to roll out of the way to avoid being flattened beneath his hooves. She stumbled back onto her own and was immediately hit by one of his spells. Even though he didn’t have the same array of spells, or the same creativity, Blueblood’s dueling style was both aggressive and consistent.

Twilight, in the meantime, had her options reduced severely because she didn’t want to disappoint the Princess: she had to try and keep herself from getting hurt, while simultaneously trying not to hurt him. Worse, he didn’t seem to care if he hurt her at all.

She could hurt him too, she realized. It would be as easy as forgetting the runes. It probably wouldn’t be too bad, right? The Princess had acted as though her spell the previous day had caused little more than a scuffed knee and some bruises after all.

Besides, she wasn’t going to try to hurt Blueblood. She just needed something to quickly push him out the the circle. And she had just the thing. With a half smile that brought the corner of her mouth up an inch, she began weaving a spell outside of the rigid runes that were more constraining than helpful.

Celestia’s attention was laser focused on the goings-on inside the ring. Forgotten were all of her injuries, aside from the occasional twinge. Blueblood’s aggression hadn’t escaped her notice, and neither had Twilight’s experimentation. She’d expected the later, given Twilight’s inquisitive nature, but the former was a complete surprise. For as long as she’d known him, Blueblood had been a gentle soul. One that had developed quite a mean streak after his mother had taken a more active part in his upbringing, perhaps, but generally an okay kid.

She was only dimly aware of the heated argument taking place next to her, or the mare that had joined the two stallions in said argument. She was made more acutely aware of their presence when one of the stallions angrily shoved the other, causing him to jostle her side briefly.

“A thousand pardons, Your Highness.”

She brushed him off absentmindedly. The thrill of Twilight’s all too brief moment of dominance had been exhilarating and she had almost screamed at the filly to take the easy win. She was a spectator, more than she was a mentor at that moment, and a small altercation amongst Blueblood’s trainers didn’t interest her. The only thing holding her back from outright cheering Twilight on, aside from the poise she had drilled into herself so hard it had become ingrained, was that she did not want to taint her student’s win with unsolicited advice. Though that didn’t stop her from subvocalizing both encouragements and warnings, trying to get the filly to follow directions that her battle tested mind came up with.

She watched Twilight and Blueblood continue to dance around one another, visibly tiring while they followed their own ideas on winning. It wasn’t until she felt the ambient magic around Twilight swell into a full fledged tide that she acted. Even a harmless spell with that much magic behind it would flatten Blueblood into a pancake. A not so harmless spell would obliterate a decently sized chunk of the castle.

“Twilight. Stop.”

She blinked in confusion, her voice not having come out as loud or as commanding as she had intended it to. Twilight thankfully seemed to have heard her, but that left the question of what happened to her voice. A slow, insidious, numbness that crept up her flank provided a clue, and when she looked over she came face to face with three wickedly smiling ponies brandishing knives, and some sort of dart sticking out of her side.

Assassins!

Her reaction was immediate, getting rid of the dart with a swipe of her wing and wiping the grin of the first stallion’s face when she hit him in the face with it. Spreading out from the right side where the dart had been, her veins felt like they were on fire. Poison. And a particularly, potent, nasty poison at that, given that she had been building up resistances to all poisons that allowed for such a thing since before the great war. To her dismay, she grazed the stallion, the poison slowing her movements by the fraction of a second he needed to dodge out of the way. He repaid her attack with another dart, this one in her foreleg.

She scrambled to her hooves and felt the cut of a knife near her hock. A mistake by the other stallion, who got a solid kick for his troubles. He impacted the wall on the opposite end of the room with a dull thud and slumped over. At the very least unconscious, probably worse, courtesy of her powerful hindlegs. However insignificant in the face of the threat still at hoof, it gave her a measure of grim satisfaction to hear the thud. She paid for her action with another dart that landed in her side somewhere between her ribs, sprouting another blossom of fiery pain that coursed through her veins at three different points.

Both the mare and the remaining stallion jumped onto her back when she stumbled, intent on driving her down to the ground and finishing the job with the daggers they had pulled from stars knew where. They would have succeeded, were it not for the two young ponies whose presence they had apparently discounted as being unimportant.

“What are you doing, you idiots?! Get away from the Princess!” Blueblood shouted, flinging the same spells he’d used in the duel, but turning them on his supposed ‘teachers’ this time around.

Twilight said nothing, but Celestia could see the mix of fear and anger in the filly's eyes that accompanied another moving shield that slammed into the stallion, throwing him from her back.

“Idiot!” the mare on her back growled towards the stallion that quickly got back up. “I told you to keep an eye on those two. Take care of them!”

“But the Duchess—” the stallion began, before the mare cut him off.

“I know. Just knock him out.”

“And the filly?”

“Dispose of her. Then we’ll take care of our precious Princess.”

Celestia could practically feel the smug, wicked, grin of the mare on top of her. She struggled, but their respective positions and the poison wreaking havoc on her nervous system didn’t make it an easy proposition. She could only watch as the stallion stalked towards Twilight, menacingly licking his blade.

It was cringe worthy for a battle hardened mare like Celestia to see. It just meant that they weren’t above trying to intimidate, and gave away the fact that they hadn't poisoned their blades. It worked on Twilight, however. The filly nearly stumbled over her own legs as she tried to back away from the big angry looking stallion.

The mare above Celestia groaned loudly. “We don’t have time for this, you bloody idiot. Just finish her off already.”

Hearing that, the stallion kicked it up a notch. Rather than advance on Twilight further, he flicked the blade up and focused his grip on the tip. Celestia wanted to shout at Twilight to get out of the way, but she got a hoof in her face before anything came out.

Struggling again, she watched as, almost in slow motion, the dagger arched downwards and left the stallion’s aura. It cut through the air towards Twilight and Celestia’s heart cried out to the filly, even if she physically couldn’t.

She didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to lose the filly who had conquered a place in her heart in such a short amount of time. With a surge of adrenaline born strength, she hefted the mare from her back and managed to toss her away with the broad of her wing. It wasn’t anywhere near powerful enough to incapacitate the mare, but at least it gave her some breathing room.

Twilight!

She turned back to the scene of her student’s demise, only to find that the knife had missed Twilight completely. Likely on account of the fact that the filly was no longer where she had been. What she saw instead was Blueblood looking down at the killing implement sticking out of his chest for a second before he keeled over. Sweeping her gaze across the room, she found a confounded stallion in the center, and Twilight at the far end of the room. The filly looked charred from head to toe, but otherwise unharmed.

Even through the haze that began to settle over her senses, Celestia could clearly feel the buildup of magic that she had tried to stop before all this began. This time, however, Twilight unleashed it all in a ball of magic that must have been very much like the one Celestia herself had been hit with the day prior, and, much like it must have done with her, the magic hit the stallion like a full on collision with a train. Without any protective shields, or even time to try and dodge, the blast put the stallion straight through the door leading out into the hallway.

“Did you see that, Princess?!” Twilight asked excitedly, cantering up to her with a smile.

The filly foolishly believed that their troubles were over, which came to a quick end when Celestia, instead of responding, looked back at the mare who had gotten back up and pulled more knives and daggers from her clothing.

Twilight’s horn sparked as she tried to hit the mare with a similar spell that had so effectively dispatched the stallion. Nothing happened.

The mare growled. “Not good enough, one hit wonder,” she sneered and advanced on the pair, throwing another dagger at Twilight.

Celestia brought up her wing and caught the dagger in it. It hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to let Twilight get hurt if there was anything she could do about it. “Twilight! Run! Teleport! Hide!” she shouted. Once more, her voice was sapped by the poison, and came out as little more than a whisper.

Twilight’s ears perked up and swiveled back towards her, but without looking back, the filly shook her head. “N-no!” Rather than stepping back, she walked in between Celestia and the mare, and shakily created a shield between them and the assassin. A shield created with intentionally weak runes that would no more stop the professional killer than a paper towel. Celestia could feel the rigidity in Twilight’s body when her rump backed up into Celestia’s side. The filly was terrified, and yet, refused to budge. “L-l-leave us alone!” she shouted.

As expected, the shield hardly slowed the mare down and she backhanded Twilight, sending the filly sprawling over the floor.

“Don’t you dare!” Celestia croaked at the mare when she turned and walked towards the dazed Twilight.

For the briefest of moments, the mare stopped to smirk at Celestia. An evil grin that Celestia cursed herself for. The mare was obviously as deranged as she was dangerous. Why hadn’t she seen this coming?

“Oh I dare, Princess. It’s so much more fun when they scream, don’t you think?” she asked coldly. “I normally wouldn’t bother. You were the target, after all, but she...” the mare scoffed and spit on the ground. “She just had to make everything more difficult. I despise ponies that get between me and my pay day.”

In three quick paces she made her way to Twilight. Before she could bring any of her weapons to bear, however, two massive frames slammed into her.

The poison was beginning to take its toll and Celestia had difficulty making out what exactly Aegis and Rook did to the mare. She’d realised that it could only be them through a haze of heavier and heavier thoughts, but anything beyond that was becoming borderline impossible.

“Princess? Stay with me, Princess,” she heard Aegis’ voice say moments... had it really only been moments? later. “Help is on the way.”

“Save Blue—” she whispered. Thinking of the poor young colt who had been used as a distraction by his own mother. The audacity of it made her heart thunder in her chest, and with a surge of will she lifted her head to look at her bodyguard. “Get that colt to a doctor right now, Aegis.”

Aegis looked down at her. “Already happening, Princess. Save your strength.” She belatedly realised that she’d collapsed somewhere along the way, and that Aegis cradling her head was the only reason she could keep it somewhat upright at all.

“What about, Twilight?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She couldn’t sustain holding her head up any longer, and surrendered herself to Aegis’ hooves. Darkness gathered at the edges of her vision, and for the first time since all of this had started did she fear for her own life. Probably Manticore poison... she thought bitterly.

“She’s—”

“Princess!”

She could feel somepony nuzzle into her neck, but found it impossible to move her eyes, much less her head. So tired...

“Don’t die, Princess!” a panicky voice squeaked at her.

She found a chuckle somewhere within herself. “I’m fine, Twilight.”

“No you’re not! You’re bleeding!” Celestia blinked. It seemed as though Twilight’s words and sobs blurred together, and she was having increasing difficulty parsing them. “And I couldn’t...” “Your wing!” “They...” “Stupid meanies...” “Blueblood’s bleeding...” “Don’t die!”

“Hang in there, Princess," came Aegis' voice, somewhere in between Twilight's sobbing.

“Did I do okay?” Twilight asked. The question was probably aimed at Aegis, but it broke through the haze that hung over Celestia’s senses much more clearly than Aegis’s response did. Clearer than all the rest, in fact.

“You did wonderfully,” she replied, closing her eyes in the knowledge that everypony would be okay. Twilight was truly a one of a kind filly. She knew she should feel something for the way the young filly had done everything to protect her. Bravery was one word for it. All others escaped her. It felt like trying to hold on to slippery eels with her mind. All she felt was the ache that screamed through every fibre of her being, and an all encompassing darkness that weighed on her eyelids.

“You did... wonderfully,” she repeated languidly. After that, the weight became too much, and she could carry it no more.

Darkness engulfed her.

Only a tiny point of light remained.

Titles and Tribulations

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Celestia stumbled towards the light, bumping into the walls on either side before she found her footing. How long had she spent in the darkness? How much time had passed since... since... what had she been doing before darkness and the inexorably long tunnel? Before becoming aware of the light at the end? What few memories and images came to her were blurred beyond recognition, and the more she tried to remember, the less clear they became. All she knew was that she had to keep going. Had to reach the light at the end of the tunnel.

Time felt... distorted. She had forever and again to get where she needed to be, and yet... she felt antsy. Pressured. A tightness in her chest that felt like it would suffocate her were she to stop and rest. Like she should have reached the end ages ago. Her journey towards the light felt like it had taken forever already, and she knew, just knew that something was waiting for her there. Something she needed. What that something was, didn’t matter, be it a source of eternal happiness, the way back to a place where things made sense, or simply a chance at some peace and quiet.

It had taken her an eternity before she felt like she was actually making progress, and another one before the visible differences became pronounced enough to make out. When she finally got close to the end of the tunnel, she was met with a sight that took her breath away. Before her lay a field of stars, numerous as grains of sand upon a beach and brighter than any she had ever seen. It seemed to stretch out into infinity, and beyond. An endless field of light that filled her with joy just to behold. And then, after a long moment spent appreciating the field itself, she spotted something that made her even happier. Fillies. Fillies in all colors of the rainbow, laughing and playing with each other. They ran around, diving over and chasing after one another in a game with rules that did not seem to have been clearly defined beforehoof.

Despite her joy at no longer being alone, the cavorting fillies were completely unfamiliar to her, save for one. A very special one. Even from the distance at which she viewed them, she could clearly make out a crescent moon against a dark background on the flank of a light blue filly.

“Luna!”

Her voice rang in her own ears. Loud and crass, in a way that seemed to shatter the serenity of her surroundings. She paid it no mind, rushing up to the exit of the tunnel, intending to grab her sister in a bear hug and never let go ever again. Her plan was rudely and irrevocably derailed when she smashed into an invisible barrier headfirst. She reeled back and cursed loudly before rushing up to the barrier again and pressing herself against it. Perhaps, if she believed in it enough she could phase past the wall through sheer force of will, dogged determination, or simple desperation. She was so torn between the exhilaration of seeing her sister and the frustration of being unable to reach her that she cared not which, as long as it expedited her reunion.

Though the invisible wall felt cold, clammy, and even seemed to shiver, her desperate plight, or at least her voice, seemed to have carried beyond the barrier. For all that went wrong, Luna looked up at her and smiled.

The filly broke away from her play with the others, much to their vocal discontent, and cantered towards Celestia. She began to change before Celestia’s eyes, growing with every alternate step. In the distance that had separated them, she grew from a filly with short stubby legs, into a teenager where her legs lengthened, became lanky, and changed her gait to a slower, more nervous one. Then, in the last of the distance she quickly matured into the adult mare that Celestia had known almost a thousand years ago.

At some point in time, Celestia couldn’t remember when, the memory of what her sister was supposed to look like had lapsed and been lost to her. Now, with Luna smiling at her mere feet away, she wondered how she could ever have forgotten.

After her eyes’d had their fill, she noticed that Luna was holding out her hoof. A clear invitation to join her in the Elysian Fields that lay beyond the tunnel. An unspoken promise for an eternity of bliss without worries. And yet, an impossibility. Celestia reached out, or tried to, but was met with the unyielding resistance of the barrier that seemed determined to keep her from what she truly wanted. She banged on it with her hooves and shot a pleading look at Luna.

Luna’s eyes filled with sadness, her smile slowly turned into a resigned mockery of one, and she dropped her hoof back on the starry ground in a gesture that filled Celestia with a depressing sense of finality.

“Luna!” Celestia shouted again when her sister turned away from her. “Luna don’t leave me!” She pleaded when her sister walked off. “Please...” she croaked, her voice breaking.

She might well have been talking to a brick wall for the impact it had. Not only was Luna leaving her behind, but the further she got, the more translucent she became. A strong feeling that letting her sister go here would mean losing her forever overcame Celestia, and hot tears stung behind her eyes while she tried desperately to break through the barrier.

At the same time that she was convinced Luna had disappeared completely, a young voice spoke up from right beside her.

“Come on, Princess!” it whined, and she felt a hoof tug on her own. She did not resist, too lost in the feeling of dread that had haunted her for a millennium and now seemed to have become a reality. “I want to play too!”

She cared for naught but for the loss she felt. Until her hoof, guided by the young voice’s comparatively tiny appendage, reached the barrier, and passed through it with ease. Just like that, the barrier yielded and she found herself standing in the field. Immediately, she galloped in the direction Luna had been walking in, hoping against hope that if she were just fast enough, she could undo everything she had ever put her sister through.

When she came close enough, she could just barely make out the cheshire grin that was Luna’s joyous smile, and a great weight fell from her shoulders.

Everything would be okay.

Returning to the field, she found that there was a new filly in the fields. A young purple filly she recognised as Twilight. Twilight, whose voice had called out to her, and whose hoof had pulled her through the most important barrier she’d come up against. Twilight; laughing and playing with the other fillies, whose forms remained indistinct but whose laughter became more clear now that the barrier was no longer holding her back from experiencing everything. She watched them play, for a time, content with simply seeing the young ponies enjoy themselves. But while she caught a glimpse of a shimmering filly that resembled Luna among them every once in a while, her sister did not return to talk with her. She took a seat, intending to watch, and listen, and rest. The ground was warm and comfortable beneath her barrel, and the lights seemed to dim to accommodate her sight. Now that the barrier had been broken, everything around her seemed to care only about comforting her.

“Princess! Princess!” Twilight bounded up to her, out of breath from all of her playing with the other fillies. “Look!” she said when she arrived, skidding to a halt, and pointed up to the sky. Following her gaze, Celestia found something she hadn’t seen in a long, long, time.

A moon. Without a mare.

Celestia awoke to the clattering of utensils, and the smell of freshly fried eggs and sunflower seeds. Upon opening her eyes, she was met with several strands of hair which obscured the sight of two stallions eating around a small table. The two were softly conversing amongst themselves, and although she was surprised to find that she had a hard time recognising Aegis without his helmet, recognise him she did. The other stallion was Mead, who looked about a decade older than the last time she’d seen him. Her first worry was that she might indeed have been out for that long. The poison, as her sore limbs reminded her, had certainly been potent enough for such an outcome. Briefly, she ran though the most important aspects of that possibility. The country had gone to hell, of that she had no doubt. With her ‘in the saddle’ it already teetered on the edge at times. Without her leadership... she shivered to think what might have happened.

She slowly turned her head, trying to get a read on her surroundings. While the stallions were being illuminated by a lone candle that had been placed in the middle of their table, the rest of the room was dark. Judging by the feel and size of the bed, she was in her own chambers, something that only reinforced her belief that she’d been absent for far too long. In which case she needed to get started on putting it back together sooner rather than later, lest more suffering happen due to her absence.

Further examination revealed a soft ball of warmth against her chest. A ball of warmth that whinnied softly and pawed at some unseen danger, making the conversation over at the table stall out, before it pushed against her and became still once more. That one action was enough to put all of Celestia’s fears to rest, and she found she could smile when she heard the barely perceptible snoring. Unless Twilight had grown up to be the tiniest mare in existence, she couldn’t have been unconscious for that long.

Trying to move, now that wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had. A pained groan escaped her when she tried to get up, and her muscles protested against the movement in the worst possible way. Regardless of how long she had been out for, it didn’t seem to have been enough for the poison to filter out of her system entirely. All of her thoughts were covered by a layer of fog, and every inch of her still felt like it was being used as a pincushion.

The stallions were up and next to her before she’d even had a chance to lift her head, to the sounds of spilled drinks and upended stools. “Don’t try to move too quickly, Princess,” Mead’s deep baritone warned her.

Too little, too late as it turned out. The moment she reached what could be considered an upright position, a woozy feeling overcame her, and her treacherous legs threatened to give out. She would have fallen (and likely landed on Twilight) were it not for Aegis, whose quick reaction and strong frame provided her with enough support to remain upright, albeit barely.

She slumped over, resting a hoof, and most of her weight on his back while she tried to shake the lightheadedness. Darkness lingered at the edges of her vision, seemingly determined to swallow her back up. “How...” She coughed. “How long was I out?”

Aegis and Mead exchanged an uncomfortable look right in front of her, but did not immediately respond. “Might wanna hold off on that, Princess. Y’know, take some time to wake up ‘nd such.”

Celestia shook her head vigorously. Maybe a little too vigorously and she had to blink several times to clear the black spots from her vision. “I’m awake, and I need to know.” She said, listening to the rasp of her own voice. She turned to the guard beside her. “Aegis?”

“Nearly two whole weeks, Princess,” Aegis replied, shifting a little to better support her weight.

Although he was trying to hide his relief, Celestia could sense it clearly, woven through every syllable like chocolate through a chocolate cake. I could really go for something sweet right now, she thought. Or anything at all for that matter.

Before she could express her sentiment in that direction, however, Mead held a bowl of croutons up to her. “Thought ya might be hungry,” he said with a firm smile.

Remembering to use her hooves, Celestia took the bowl from him. Just about every part of her body had been screaming about aches, pains, and ouchies from the moment she’d woken up, and she was hesitant to add her head - and horn - ache to that cacophony. What she couldn’t help, however, was the disbelieving look that sat upon her face. She’d always attributed an uncanny sense for hungry ponies to the rotund earth pony, but this... this was borderline clairvoyance.

Perhaps it was unsurprising given her state of mind, but her thoughts got away from her, turning to the question of whether or not it would be possible, or wise, to employ such a talent and use it for the betterment of the country. Even if it were perfect, it would take some getting used to... It took her an exceedingly long time to corral her thoughts and put all of them back where they belonged. It took longer still for her to form a reply that wasn’t a hysterical plea for the world to slow down and start making sense for a change.

Sadly, the world looked to her for that sort of thing, no matter how much she would like to leave it in somepony else’s hooves.

When she finally had a reply ready, she found that Mead had taken the bowl of croutons back and was looking at her with a worried expression. Though Aegis displayed no signs of discomfort, she knew that she was resting on him rather heavily and tried to right herself once more, without any apparent success.

After an apologetic smile, which Aegis returned with a much more joyous one, she asked; “What’s the damage?”

Mead chuckled. “It’d probably be quickest to list all of the things that haven’t gone wrong. The palace has been in an uproar, several ponies have demanded to know who would dare attack you like that, and the rest are afraid...” He looked off into the distance. “Much like the rest of the country I reckon.”

“A lot, Princess,” Aegis said, nonplussed, before falling silent. “I’m... just not sure where to begin.”

The more she heard, the more letting the darkness swallow her and going back to sleep seemed like a good idea. Celestia pushed the notion out of her head, and cleared her throat. “At the beginning, Aegis.”

He seemed to think for a moment, and curiously, Mead didn’t immediately jump into the gap as he was wont to do. “To start with, there have been riots when ponies learned of what had happened. We tried to keep what happened to you as quiet as possible, but as you know, such things always get out eventually.”

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. There were certainly ways of making sure that nopony ‘spilled the beans’ as it were, but that required the spilling of blood in its stead, and was generally frowned upon.

“So when word got out,” Aegis continued, picking up steam. “There were a surprising number of ponies that seemed to be waiting for one calamity or another. They began spouting about ancient prophecies and inciting the masses...”

“How many?”

“Several. At least a dozen.”

“What are their demands?”

“Uhm...” Aegis fell silent, continuing only after Celestia fixed him with a pointed look. “They didn’t really have any, Princess. Sunny Scrolls ordered the instigators jailed, and ever since then things have been mostly quiet. Though I heard there was another one yesterday.”

“Small wonder,” Celestia grumbled, slowly pushing some of her hair behind her ears with a hoof. Having it hang in her face the whole time was becoming rather irritating.

What in Equestria is Sunny thinking? she thought with a growing sense of dread.

Imprisoning instigators always, always lead to more problems. If history was anything to go by, and in her experience, history tended to repeat itself, imprisonment only lead to further dissatisfaction and more unrest. Still, it was arguably better than the alternative.

Which didn’t mean that everything was okay, however. Far from it. A tight feeling had blossomed, and pressed upon her chest. It demanded she do something about the mess her absence had caused before it escalate into something truly dangerous. “I have to get to the throne room,” she blurted out, trying to make her way to the double doors that market the exit to her room, and failing before she had taken a single step. The ground rushed up to meet her, but she instead landed on somepony who let out a deep ‘oof’.

Her first thought was to thank Aegis for his quick reaction, but as she turned her head to do so, she found that it was in fact Mead who had kept her mostly upright. Perhaps that explained the trembling. Mead was a few years older than either of her guards, and most of his weight couldn’t be attributed to muscle mass.

He took a step back once Aegis’d had a chance to step up beside and support Celestia’s weight again and looked at the floor, catching his breath. “Just so you know, Princess,” he said between a few deep intakes of breath. “I’m putting you on a diet from here on out.”

His remark made her chuckle, which in turn made her cough and wish for something to quench her thirst. Still, it helped ease the tightness in her chest somewhat. “Duly noted.”

Aegis, however, wasn’t as forgiving. “Princess, you can’t just run... try to run off like that!” He proclaimed hotly. “You are in no state to move, much less to do anything.”

Celestia sighed and slowly, painstakingly, lowered herself to the floor until she found a position she could actually sustain without using her guard as a crutch. “I’m sorry, Aegis. Truly. But the kingdom is my responsibility. You can understand that, surely?”

“And your health is mine,” Aegis countered, moving to adjust a bandage that was wrapped around her wing. It hurt, a little, and she wondered why for a moment until the memory of the dagger she’d caught with it resurfaced. Aegis’ hooves moved with a fluidity that suggested it wasn’t the first time he had adjusted or changed the bandage, which in turn made her wonder where the other half of the duo was.

“Where’s Rook?” she asked, pushing the conversation in that direction.

“Conscripted by Sunny Scrolls, Princess.” Aegis pulled on the bandage with his teeth, making the pain flare up in her wing. He gave her an apologetic smile before adding: “She conscripted me as well, believe it or not. She wanted ponies she trusted implicitly to help her give orders to the other guards.”

Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“We had to resort to taking turns guarding you and Twilight, and even got Mead—” he nodded towards the cook who responded with an exaggerated wink. “—to help out.” He grabbed the bowl of croutons Mead was still holding and brought it to her lips for a second before blanching and offering it to her instead.

From the deft movements with the bandages to the way in which he offered food to her, it was obvious that he had made it his obligation to be the one guarding her more often than not. It was sweet, and perhaps a little unprofessional, but she chose not to mention it. There was something else that had caught her attention. Something arguably more important than the difficulties her guards had faced, or the food. “Blueblood?” she asked, taking the bowl of croutons again, and absently popping a few into her mouth. She found, much to her relief, that her worries regarding Mead were unfounded. The croutons were stale, as if they’d been there for a day or two already, thankfully disproving the stallion's supposed omniscience.

“The young lad has recovered, though I think he’s still shaken.”

That was at least one potential problem put to rest. Celestia turned around. The stallion’s reactions to her question weren’t as important as something that had entered her mind like a sneak. Blueblood was important, yes, but not more so than Twilight.

The filly was still asleep on the bed. She was slowly sliding into the indentation that Celestia’s body weight had left, curled up with a book, in the way that she always seemed to adopt whenever sleeping next to somepony. She looked almost exactly like she had before the poison had caused Celestia to black out. Her mane, although combed, still had traces of burnt hairs in it; and her coat was similarly not nearly as clean as it could have been.

“Hasn’t left your side since the guard brought you here,” Mead said behind her. “She was right there on the bed the whole time. Talking to you about all manner of things and asking questions like nothing was wrong, and reading to you when she couldn’t think of anything else to ask... when she was awake anyway.” He smiled when Celestia looked back at him. “Wouldn’t even leave your side to eat, hence the bowl.” he motioned towards the croutons. Celestia nodded, popping a few more into her mouth and handing the bowl back to him. Her stomach insisted on something more substantial, but that could wait.

She was hit by the inexplicable urge to pick up and hug the filly. Hearing of her devotion was... she didn’t want to use the word ‘incredible’; she had seen too much in her lifetime to think of anything as being beyond the realm of credibility, but the sentiment applied. However, that, too, would have to wait.

“I imagine the troubles didn’t end with just rioting. What else did I miss?”

Half an hour later, Aegis was still talking, and Celestia had learned that Sunny had a lot of things to learn regarding the handling of crisis. A little odd given that she’d seen Celestia handle quite a few of them, but perhaps having to be the one that actually makes the decisions was a tad more difficult. Not only had the mare put tension on the country’s relationships with the zebras and the minotaurs—the dignitaries of whom she’d brusquely told that they were doing what they could and that their presence was not only unhelpful but unwanted— she’d also issued a state of emergency; had troublemakers detained for longer periods of time; and had apparently told all of the nobles where they could stick their opinions. Separately, the ideas seemed sound, even if some of them might have been a little less diplomatic than was strictly clever. Taken together, however, Celestia could already see the perfect storm of troubles it would create in her mind’s eye.

A brief question regarding dinner had seen Mead return to his kitchen some time ago. Celestia had moved back to the bed— with Aegis’ help — and had sat there, nodding and asking for clarifications when she thought it necessary. After twenty or so minutes, she’d told the guard that looking at him standing there the whole time was tiring her out, after which he had reluctantly taken a seat. “—And then there was a riot which required almost all of the guard to disperse,” Aegis continued his rapport. “Two massive dragons landed in the middle of the courtyard. Fortunately, nopony was injured, but most everypony was convinced they had come here to level the city in your absence.”

That made Celestia’s ears perk up. “Do you remember their names?”

Aegis shook his head. “Sorry, Princess. This is just what Rook told me. I was in here when it happened. Apparently they were a couple, however.”

Celestia sighed and nodded. “Continue.”

“Like the dignitaries, they wanted to know what had happened to you, and when Sunny explained it to them, they...” Aegis ran a hoof through his unkempt mane that hadn’t seen a comb in far too long. “Well... they called for the charred corpse of whoever was responsible for doing such a thing to you.” He fell silent for a moment after that, staring at Celestia with what she could only describe as unadulterated awe before asking: “How did you earn such respect from dragons as big as the castle, Princess?”

“I fought and killed their matriarch some eight hundred years ago,” Celestia replied absentmindedly. She was trying her hardest to come up with the names of dragons bold enough to go into Equestria after the last time she’d visited their lands, but came up short every time. She only realised her mistake after she looked at Aegis and took note of the slack jaw. “It’s not something I’d care to elaborate on, Aegis. Suffice to say the previous Dragon Lord was a tyrant that did not respect boundaries. Her children were more reasonable. Now, what did you, or I suppose Sunny, tell them?”

“According to Rook, she told them that we were working on it, but that you ‘wanted to deal with it personally.’ Which they seemed to accept easily enough.”

“Good.”

Truthfully, it was just about the best answer they could’ve given the dragons, which made it one more thing she wouldn’t have to worry about in the immediate future. One thing niggled at the back of her mind, however. “How...” She took a deep breath. “Did the dragons or the dignitaries explain how they knew that something had happened?”

Aegis looked at her as though she had just proclaimed grass was blue. It lasted for a good few seconds before it turned to worry. “Princess... the sun is stuck ever since the duel. Nopony could find the spell you were talking about, so it has been early morning for two weeks straight.”

“But...” She looked around, only now noticing the makeshift heavy curtains draped over all of the windows before looking back to her bodyguard. Aegis looked tense, as though expecting her to get up and try to make another break for the doors. She didn’t. There was no more room for urgency in her head. She needed time. Time to absorb all she’d learned, and time to plan. The only thing she did was close her eyes and sigh. “Aegis?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Should something like this ever happen again... Could you lead with that?”

Aegis nodded. “My apologies, Princess, I thought you were aware.”

Keeping her eyes closed, Celestia nodded to her bodyguard while she reached out to the sun. She felt weak. Disastrously so. But she found that moving the sun was still within her capabilities. Made easier by the fact that it was part of her talent no doubt. It almost felt as though it wanted to move as badly as she wanted it to, and even though she was struggling to breathe before the sun had reached the horizon on the other side of its arch; and her head pounded like somepony had repurposed it as a drum, she felt... lighter, somehow. Like a burden that she had subconsciously felt since the moment she had woken up had been lifted.

When she opened her eyes, Aegis was close enough that she could hear him breathe. Even over the sound of her own gasping.

“Are you okay, Princess?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “No... Aegis... I’m not okay.” The truth of that statement continually made itself known. It put a ticking clock on what she could do, and the conversation which had lasted fewer than forty minutes already seemed to be dangerously close to her limit, and likely would be for some time yet. “...but... I will be.” She winced while trying to shift her weight, her wing in particular seemed sensitive to motion. And although she bit back a half formed curse at her body’s expense, she couldn't help the sharp intake of breath, which also hurt in its own unique way.

Aegis was on his hooves in a matter of seconds, and had circled her one before she even got the chance to catch her breath. She waved him down with a hoof.

“It’s nothing major. Just my wing reminding me that I shouldn’t be moving around.” She yawned unabashedly, shielding her mouth with a hoof. “And it seems like I could use some more rest as well.” Tired as she felt, however, she already knew that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with Aegis around. The stallion was three parts worry to two parts nervous energy, with an unhealthy dose of what appeared to be insomnia. “When was the last time you yourself got a good night’s rest?”

Even as she said it, she realised that her question was poorly worded, given that it hadn't been night for weeks, but Aegis seemed to get the gist of it. “Three, maybe four days ago,” he replied with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s remarkably hard to fall asleep when the world is turned upside down and you’re to blame.”

“You are not to blame...” Celestia sighed deeply. She didn’t have the time or the energy to play the blame game. There was too much to be done. “We will talk about that later. Right now, I need you to inform Sunny that I’m up, and that I’ll take over for her in about an hour. If you haven’t slept much, my guess is that she hasn’t slept in two weeks, which is unhealthy and dangerous.”

Aegis merely shook his head. “Sorry, no can do, Princess.” He placed a hoof on her chest and softly but insistently pushed against her when she attempted to get up once again. “Sunny figured you’d want to go back to, in her words: ‘running around taking charge as soon as she wakes up’ and ordered us to keep you in your room until she had a chance to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself walking around.”

Celestia stared at him in disbelief. The gall of that mare... She was going to give Sunny a piece of her mind, but in order to do that she’d actually need to get to the courtroom. Which meant that she’d need to get past Aegis. Weak as she was, overpowering him wouldn’t be a problem, or perhaps that was the problem. Knocking out a pony without outright killing them required a certain amount of finesse. To a degree she wasn’t quite capable of right now. A sleep spell then? She tested her horn and the pain was enough to make her collapse back onto the bed.

Aegis rushed towards her. “Princess?!”

“I’m okay... ungh... I’m okay.” In truth, she wasn’t okay. Far from it. Even the simple act of breathing was sending spikes of pain up her side, and the feeling of helplessness was making her doubt herself. What if she wouldn’t be okay? What if that poison... whichever one it had been, crippled her for the rest of time? She breathed in deeply, winced, and crawled back onto her bed, brushing Twilight out of the way with a forehoof lest she crush her student upon laying down. “I think...” she paused to take another breath, and tried to find a position which made at least breathing a little more comfortable. “I think I need some more rest.”

“That’s a good idea, Princess,” Aegis replied, settling down on one of the stools. “If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

“That sounds...” Celestia felt the weight of everything she had done crash down on top of her, making it hard to keep her eyes open. “That sounds good.”

Perhaps a little more rest isn’t such a bad idea after all. She thought, before letting her eyes close and her mind drift back into the black abyss of subconsciousness.

“—But what the dastardly Doctor Caballeron didn’t know, was that Daring Do always kept a spare knife in her jacket. She shuffled and sim... shim shasha...shimshim...shishiishii?”

“Shimmied, Twilight,” Aegis’ voice rumbled from across the room. He sounded half asleep.

“Right! She shimmied until it was close enough to grasp with her teeth, and began working on severing the ropes.”

When Celestia crawled her way out of the miasma that was her poison-addled subconscious the second time, she awoke to the adventures of Daring Do. More specifically, Twilight’s retelling of the adventure. The filly was reading the book to her which, was a wholly unique experience. At least, to her it was. She’d read to Twilight, and had learned that most foals had their parents read to them before bed-time, but to her... She couldn’t recall anypony ever reading to her before.

“It took her several minutes to get through the rough fibres, but that didn’t matter. The death trap Caballeron had left her in worked so slowly it might as well have been standing still. So after putting on her trusty pith helmet, she tested her wings and flew right out of the top where the ancient ponies that had built the place had left a hole in the ceiling so that the sun could illumi— shine on the altar.” There was a pause, followed by a sigh. “Did everypony leave holes in their roofs? Wouldn’t that be very inconvenient during the rain?”

It felt nice, simply laying there, eyes closed, listening to Twilight sound out a tale of action and adventure; being part of a world where good and evil were more black and white than in the real one, and where the bad guys always got what was coming to them. The filly having decided that she needed entertainment filled her with a warmth she was only just starting to remember.

And while she felt the gentle insistence of the sun press on the back of her mind, she didn’t want to open her eyes and have it stop.

“Aegis?” Twilight asked after a few more lines of story in which Daring got the tools she needed to put Doctor Caballeron behind bars again. “Did the Princess really wake up?” Celestia felt the pressure of a tentative hoof which lifted her eyelid giving her an eyeful of curious filly face. Twilight looked well rested, and even happy while she examined Celestia’s pupils, lifting the other eyelid after closing the first one again. “I mean... what if you just dreamed that it happened?” She continued, closing the other eyelid again and settling back down in the spot she had seemingly occupied for as long as Celestia had been out.

Celestia just let it happen, still not quite awake enough to actually move, let alone speak.

“I think I can distinguish my dreams from the real world, Twilight,” Aegis replied, sounding ever more tired. “She moved the sun. It’s evening now. Besides, Mead was there as well. You can go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

“Sorry,” Twilight said apologetically. “I just wish we could wake her up.”

“She needs her rest, Twilight.”

“I know. I know.” Twilight’s breath tickled one of Celestia’s ears. “Sorry, Princess,” the filly whispered. “Make sure to rest a lot, okay?”

After that, the room went quiet, and Celestia sank back into the depths of sleep.

Twilight was still in the room when Celestia woke up for a third time, albeit no longer on the bed. Instead the filly was patrolling back and fro in front of the bed when Celestia opened her eyes. Curiously, she was wearing a large guard's helmet. Celestia watched her from her prone position for a moment and was forced to revise her observation, and stifle a chuckle at the same time. The filly wasn’t so much wearing the helmet as much as she was located somewhere vaguely inside the thing, giving the altogether more comical appearance of a metallic tortoise with a shell too small for its body waddling back and forth.

“You have nothing to fear, Princess!” The filly announced to the otherwise empty room. “Super Special Guardsmare Captain Twilight Sparkle will protect you from all of the scary things!” She reached the end of her patrol route and jumped into a combat ready pose. “Halt, citizen! Under chapter fifteen section F-six of the guard manual, you are not allowed to approach the Princess without her explicit permission,” she all but yelled in as deep a voice as she could muster. “I’m sorry, but I am going to have to take you into custody.” She held the stance for a second longer, and then straightened, turning around and continuing her patrol.

Celestia couldn’t help but smile, though she did manage to keep herself from laughing.

Barely.

At the other end of the room, the display repeated itself, only this time it was a mare being detained for the mounting late fees on their library card, which, according to Twilight was a violation of chapter twenty seven paragraph B-zero, subparagraph zero-kilo. It made Celestia wonder if Twilight was making the entire thing up, or if there were actually rules like that in the guard training manual. If there were... she was going to have to re-read and revise the entire thing.

Celestia lost control over her composure and laughed aloud when Twilight tripped, and another imaginary pony was sent to the stockade for attacking a guard without provo- pro... without reason! Which quickly gave away the secret that she was, in fact, awake.

“Princess!” Twilight exclaimed happily, forgetting all about the helmet she was wearing. It tumbled and clanged on the floor while the filly herself nearly tripped over her own hooves to get to the bed as quickly as possible. “You’re alive!”

There was nothing funny about the statement. In fact, some small part of Celestia’s mind recognised that she should probably be worried about the surprised exclamation coming from the mouth of a filly so young. And yet, she laughed all the same. “Hello Guard Captain Sparkle,” she said, chuckling. “I see that my safety is—”

That’s as far as she got before Twilight reached the bed, and jumped up against her, turning the rest of her sentence into a strangled groan.

The filly immediately backed off, ears plastered against her skull. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

Celestia sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s fine, Twilight. Just try to be a little more careful.”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, looking down at the floor. “It’s just... I was worried about you. You were asleep for so long, and everypony kept saying they didn’t know when you would wake up.” She rocked from side to side before looking up and trying out a smile. “So I read to you, because when you’re sick, reading helps. My mom always read to me when I was sick and it really worked so I thought I would try the same thing.” Finally a smile broke through on her face. “And it worked! You woke up!”

Celestia returned the smile in kind. “Yes, I did.”

“Are you okay, now?”

Before answering, Celestia gingerly tried to get up, testing her legs one at a time. It hurt, and she suspected it would for some time yet, but at least she was no longer falling over. “No, Twilight,” she said at length. “And I fear I won’t be for some time yet.”

“Oh...” Twilight frowned, and looked down at the bed.

“Are you the only one here?”

Twilight’s head came up with a proud smile. “Yes,” she said, puffing out her chest. “He said that Ms. Sunny Scrolls needed his help, so he told me to stand guard.”

“Reading to help me get better. Standing guard when needed...” Celestia nodded to herself. “You’re quite the little helper,” she said, watching Twilight practically burst with pride. “Although... I think somepony needs to help you take care of yourself.”

“What?” Twilight’s smile faded, replaced with a confused frown. “But I’m fine!”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning! Only... it’s been night for almost a day now, but I ate not too long ago!”

“And when was the last time you had a bath?”

“Uhm...” Twilight thought for a long moment. “A few days ago?” she said, quickly adding: “But I don’t think I need one right now.”

“Well,” Celestia said seriously, stepping forward and nudging Twilight towards the bathroom. “I think that you do.” It was a little white lie, of course. Truthfully, it was Celestia herself that could use a bath, but she’d feel more comfortable if she could keep an eye on Twilight while doing so. If nothing else, the filly could help her reach those places that hurt for her to tend to herself.

“But—”

“Good hygiene is important, Twilight.” Celestia stopped pushing her student and walked on ahead, nearly tripping on strands of her mane that got in the way of her hooves. She looked over her shoulder at the filly and said: “And even if you don’t really need to, you’re not going to let an old, injured, mare fend for herself, are you?”

She watched Twilight think it over for a moment, before the filly got up and followed her.

“So it’s like when my mom had to help my grandma bathe after she had broken a leg?”

Celestia did not reply, opting instead to take a look around the room and see what, if anything, had changed.

Quite a few things as it turned out. For starters, Twilight had likely been telling the truth when she said that she’d bathed, but had neglected to mention that she’d done so in Celestia’s bathroom. Secondly, the maids had apparently been barred from entering her room and anything adjacent to it, because the entire room was one gigantic mess of open bottles; wet tiles on both the floor, walls, and ceiling; and even the bathtub — which was supposed to be a big round indentation in the ground with ample room for her to occupy thrice over — was little more than a mass of bubbles reaching to her withers. It made her wonder just how high the pile had been at first.

“Are you very old, Princess?” came Twilight’s voice from behind her while the filly cantered into the bathroom behind her. “My grandma told me that you smiled at her during the Summer Solstice once when she was as old as I am... but that’s so long ago!”

Celestia only half-registered Twilight’s rambling. Her focus was with the horrific state of the bathroom. “I am very old, Twilight,” she murmured, painstakingly putting a few of the bottles back up on the shelf that was supposed to house them.

“You don’t look old, even if your hair isn’t rainbow-y anymore.”

“That’s because...” She hissed softly after trying to lift one of the soap bottles with her magic. The immediate headache that followed made her want to do little else but step into the bath and soak for the rest of the day.

“Are you okay, Princess?” Twilight was standing next to her, looking up with a worried expression which let her know that she had failed to hide exactly how much it hurt.

“It just hurts a little when I try to use my magic, that’s all, which is why I asked you to help.” She motioned to the bath. “It doesn’t have to be right away, and if you join me, maybe we could even have another waterfight.”

Judging by the gay abandon with which Twilight hurled herself at the mountain of bubbles after that, it was clear that she liked the idea.

Once the bubbles settled down, Celestia followed her example, albeit at her own, more sedate pace. She sighed in relief when the warm water closed around her hooves, legs, barrel, withers in order, soothing small aches in each and making her aware of just how long she had gone without a bath.

She spent the next three whole hours soaking in relative peace.

There were only two upsets. At the beginning, it was one soaking wet hoof-stitched doll which came floating up after she shifted. It had apparently gotten trapped underneath her when she’d entered the bath, and caused an uncomfortable itch near her hock. She dragged it out of the water with her teeth and gently placed it on the edge of the bath, looking at it with some confusion.

“Smartypants!” Twilight yelled, and immediately paddled towards the edge. “There you are!” The filly hugged the doll like a long lost relative, and spent much of the time thereafter playing with, and talking to, the doll. Celestia watched her play with a soft smile.

The other upset was from Twilight herself some hours later. After she had gotten bored of playing with ‘Smartypants’ and the doll had reverently been given a place near the bathroom door, the filly tried (and failed) to recreate the water globe trick that Celestia had used against her, soaking herself in the process and dispersing the bubbles that remained in the bath. Celestia put up token resistance in the fight that followed, but it was over before it really started.

Great though it was to take her time and leave her worries at the door, Celestia knew that the troubles caused by her incapacitation wouldn’t wait forever. Even if she couldn’t appear in court with her mane being the way it was without freaking ponies out more, she could still give advice, so some urgency was still called for. “Twilight? Could you help me wash my mane and back?”

Twilight immediately picked a shampoo bottle out of a pile, and floated it over to the bath. It’s almost like she’s been waiting for it. Celestia shook her head. What are you thinking you old mare? Of course she’s been waiting for it. You asked her to.

“Is this the wavy-rainbow one?”

She simply won’t let the idea go will she? Celestia thought with a quiet chuckle. “Twilight, it isn’t something you can find in a shampoo bottle.”

“Then how come your mane isn’t all...” Twilight made a helpless gesture with her hooves, indicating Celestia’s mane. “Wavy and glowy anymore?”

She’d expected the question sooner or later, but Twilight still thinking that it had something to do with shampoo was a surprise. “Because there’s currently no overflow of magic, Twilight.” Shaking her head, she allowed all of her mane to drape around her in a waterfall of pink strands. “Right now, my magic is taking care of me, making sure that I recover as quickly as possible.”

Twilight tilted her head sideways. “But... your hair was still flowy at my exam! You were hurt then, too.”

“That’s because those were smaller injuries. They were more superficial, which is why they didn’t take as much strength, or as long to heal.”

“Really?”

Celestia nodded. “Really. Don’t worry, my hair will go back to normal in due time.”

There was a pause during which Twilight hummed softly and picked up a different bottle of shampoo. She approached Celestia’s mane and squirted a big dollop of the bottle’s contents on several spots before working it in with her hooves. There was no denying that she was using too much, even for a mane as long as the one Celestia possessed, a third of what she used would have sufficed, but Celestia let it be. There was more than enough after all.

“So...” Twilight began after a few minutes of diligently rubbing the shampoo in until it produced bubbles. “Would my mane be all flow-y and rainbow-y if I had enough magic?”

Her voice carried a palpable undertone of awe and anticipation, and it was all Celestia could do not to embrace her young student right there and then.

“Perhaps,” she said with a coy smile. “Of course, you’d need to learn how to take care of it first, and I think you’d have to grow up first.” Leaning in she looked from side to side conspiratorially. “It’s a very dangerous secret that I can’t explain to just anypony.”

Two big purple irises stared back at her, their owner’s whispered voice following behind. “Really? So you’ll tell me when I’m older?”

Celestia straightened suddenly, sending bubbles flying every which way and smiled brightly. “Nope!”

Whatever reaction she had hoped to provoke from Twilight, two humongous eyes and an adorable little pout weren’t it. “Why not?” The filly whined, halting her work on Celestia’s mane to do so.

Seeing that her teasing had missed its mark, Celestia quickly put on a mysterious air, stroking her chin with a hoof and pretending to look at something in the distance. “Because...” She said, in slow deliberation. “It is a secret to everypony. You’ll find out for yourself.”

“Oh... okay.” And just like that the pout was gone, and Twilight went back to kneading Celestia’s mane. She was distracted from her thoughts when her ear flicked at the itchy feeling of a soap bubble that popped against it. That in turn made her aware of just how many there were. While it wasn’t quite as bad as before (an opened shampoo bottle dribbling into the bath had caused that) the way Twilight worked on her mane created a truly impressive amount of bubbles in its own right. The filly certainly didn’t take any half measures.

Celestia was fully prepared to sink into a state of relaxed bliss and set the worries of the world aside for another few hours. Right up to the point where she realised that Twilight had been very quiet. Especially for her. Normally she’d have a question, or twenty.

“What have you been up to while I was asleep, Twilight?” she asked, trying to feel out Twilight’s state of mind. ”Mead told me that you’d stayed with me, but he didn’t say what you’ve been doing.”

“Mead told stories about how he was an adventurer like Daring Do, only he infiltrated temples and ruins to find old recipes and special ingredients for his cooking,” Twilight began with a soft, happy lilt in her voice. “He even said that Daring is an old friend of his!”

It wasn’t hard to picture Mead saying something like that. He had an impressive imagination and didn’t always bother with small details like the truth.

“I tried to practice making illusions, and I read books to you... oh, and my parents came by. They were worried about me, but I told them that I needed to help you because you were asleep, and they said that I could! And then... uhm...” Twilight’s hooves stopped for a moment. “Then Aegis taught me how to play chess; Earth Ponies walk in a straight line, Pegasi do a little ‘L’ hop, and Unicorns walk diagonally! But I don’t understand why the Captain of the Guard can go wherever he pleases, while the Princess can only move one square at a time. And...”

Half of Celestia wanted to stop and explain that it was due to all of the political dead weight that tied her down, but something in Twilight’s voice didn’t seem right. It had lost that... that sparkle of happiness with which she’d started. She turned to face a different filly from the happy one that had started her account with a smile.

Twilight eyes were shining with unshed tears. “A-and that you lose if your Princess is taken and has to leave the board. You’re not going to leave, are you?” She asked meekly, her shoulders shaking with repressed anguish.

All at once, the relaxation was gone and Celestia found herself befuddled at Twilight’s sudden shift . Even with the magnitude of things that had gone wrong, she’d been happy that Twilight seemed to handle everything so very well. She’d been smiling mere moments ago!

“Twilight...” She reached out to the filly, ignoring the pain it brought. Twilight backed away from her.

“The doctors were worried because you were already hurt, and other ponies said you weren’t coming back.” Twilight looked up at her, big tears rolling down her cheeks. “You said not to go to the duel, but I just wanted to prove that I could...”

And then Celestia understood. For a filly like Twilight who had never before seen combat, the entire ordeal had gone from one terrifying ordeal to the next. First the duel which would have gotten her adrenaline pumping; after that a trio of scary ponies that made her fear for her life; and to top it all off, nearly fifteen days in which she had been allowed to watch over her fallen idol while being convinced that it was all her fault. Worse, nopony had thought to tell her otherwise.

Much to her dismay, the insight did not automagically come with a solution. She was no more equipped to dealing with the crying filly now than she had been the first time.

In her mind’s eye, she relived the fever dream she’d had. Twilight pulling her through that unbreakable barrier that kept her, and into a future where she could have her sister back, and compared her to the miserable filly in front of her. It wouldn’t do.

“Twilight, listen to me, none of what happened was your fault.” she told the sobbing filly. “If we had canceled the duel, they would have found some other way to attack me. You couldn’t have done anything about that.”

“But you were hurt because of me!” Twilight countered, trying to dry her tears without any apparent success. “If you hadn’t tried to teach me magic you wouldn’t have gotten hurt! And then they wouldn’t have been able to do anything!”

Celestia bit the inside of her cheek. It was not going to be easy to convince her. Even if her emotions were on the forefront of it all, her logic was hard to argue with. “Twilight.” She reached out again, and this time managed to grab hold, pulling the filly forwards across the wet floor. “The fact of the matter is, these things happen. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been poison in my food, or some manufactured accident.”

Rather than calm Twilight down, her answer only seemed to upset the filly further. The filly shook her head, more tears leaking from her eyes like a poorly maintained faucet.

“Y-you mean they do this to you all the time?” she asked with wide, fearful eyes. “Is that why that stallion called me an assassin?”

“Twilight.” Celestia deliberately brought her head level with the filly’s, holding her chin up and looking her in the eyes. “That was a mistake, which could have happened to anypony. Don’t listen to those ponies. You are my student, and you are very dear to me.”

“But I get you hurt!” Twilight protested. “If it wasn’t for me being your student, that mean old lady would have never gotten upset, and you’d be okay.”

Celestia sighed. They were talking in circles, and it wasn’t helping Twilight at all. “Twilight, that ‘mean old lady’ would have found something else to get upset over. There would still have been a problem, and I still would have gotten hurt.” She looked herself over and pointed to the bandage wrapped around her wing. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have this wound...” She brought her hoof down to her chest and made a cutting motion. “But I would probably have had one here, if you hadn’t blasted that stallion.”

There were many little aches and pains that she wouldn’t have had to suffer were it not for Twilight, but conversely, there were many laughs and joys that she would miss out on. The good easily outweighed the bad.

She grunted in pain when she pulled herself out of the bath, and beckoned Twilight closer. The filly complied, burying her face in Celestia’s coat. “I dum wanna be you studem anymoe.”

“Oh...” For whatever reason, hearing that Twilight wanted out felt like a hammer blow to the chest. She wasn’t surprised, however, most of what Twilight had experienced since she’d come to the castle could be labeled as ‘insane’ by most ponies. Yet, for all of that, Celestia found that she didn’t want to let the filly go so easily. “But what about studying magic?”

Twilight shook her head and looked up at her. “Teaching me magic hurts you.”

“No it doesn’t. That’s just a part of—”

“Yes it does!” Twilight said, poking Celestia’s wing and making both of them wince. “Sorry...”

“That’s not because I was teaching you magic, Twilight. That’s because you were learning, and I didn’t take the proper precautions.”

“That’s why I wanna be a guard. At least that way I can learn how to protect you!”

Celestia thought for a time, trying to find the words to convey what she was feeling. “Twilight, my guards ponies are very brave. They learn how to handle many weapons, and they know a lot about protecting ponies. But you yourself are stronger than any sword or shield they could teach you to use, and none of them could teach you how to use that power better than myself. That’s why I chose you.”

Twilight took that in silently, and after a time said: “I... I just don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Twilight,” Celestia said, laying a hoof on her student’s shoulder. “Let me tell you, one mare to another, you can’t bear the weight of the world for long without it wearing on you. I’ve tried, believe me.”

Twilight just looked at her blankly, and Celestia sighed as she recalled she was speaking to a filly, despite said filly’s very grown up concerns. “What I mean is... I’ll find ways to teach you that don’t involve blowing up walls. Let me worry about that.”

“And the ponies that want to hurt you?” Twilight asked with wide, fearful eyes.

Celestia’s eyes, and thoughts, darkened with a sudden smouldering anger. “You won’t have to worry about them anymore either.”

Twilight looked into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded, resting her head against Celestia’s pelt. The filly nodded, and Celestia imagined she could feel just how exhausted the filly must be. How many nights, filled with sunlight, had she gone through, reading to Celestia while the world was falling apart around her? How long had she held these fears in her heart with no one to speak to about them?

“I am so sorry, my faithful student,” she whispered into Twilight’s mane as she nuzzled her. “I promise, everything is going to be fine.”

Fine... Fine implied having the time to teach Twilight everything she needed to know at her leisure. Fine implied that she would spend time with her student, even outside of lessons. If only to get the silly notion that she hated her out of the filly’s head. Unfortunately, fine also meant that she did not abandon the country. Her country. Especially not after her subject’s faith had been shaken like it had.

There were only so many hours in a day.

She knew she wouldn’t have a lot of time for Twilight in the foreseeable future. Between taking back all of the responsibilities she had heaped onto Sunny, and undoing any damage that had been done, time would be a scarcity. What little time she would have likely wouldn’t be enough for any actual lessons. Luckily, she had an idea or two. They probably wouldn’t be enough, but it would at the very least buy her time to come up with more ideas.

“Everything is going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

On Edge

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“—and an entire flight of pegasi-guards outside your windows,” Aegis finished in a matter-of-fact tone. He’d began briefing her on the new security measures as soon as Celestia had woken up the following afternoon, and it had taken him the better part of an hour to explain all of it.

However necessary or unnecessary she felt the extra security measures were, Celestia knew she couldn’t fault anypony for wanting to have them in place. She still wasn’t quite sure whether or not they actually made her feel safer, but it was the thought that counted, and she definitely appreciated the thought. “Very good. Anything else I ought to know about that didn’t make it into yesterday’s recap?”

Aegis, who had once more been commanded to sit down and speak freely, tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Uhm... I told you about the riots, and I think I explained Sunny Scrolls treatment of troublemakers and nobles alike... then there were...”

“The dragons, yes,” Celestia finished for him, trying not to let the small ember of irritation that had sat with her all throughout the night shine through in her voice. “I meant anything else.”

“I don’t think I mentioned anything about the Captain of the Guard, or lack thereof?” He flashed her an embarrassed smile. “The reason Sunny Scrolls wanted me and Rook to help her was because everypony knows us as your bodyguards, and I think she hoped it would lend a measure of authority to what we said. Among the guards at least.”

“A lack of...” Celestia frowned. “You mean to say the Captain of the Guard has disappeared as well? Do we suspect another assassination attempt?”

The embarrassed smile Aegis had given her, turned to a worried frown. “Princess...”

“Stonewall wouldn’t go down without a fight. Say what you will about the stallion, but he knows how to handle himself in combat.” Celestia smiled grimly. “I doubt he’d have had any trouble handling a few second-rate assassins.”

“Stonewall hasn’t been Captain for over a decade, Princess,” Aegis replied shamefacedly. “He was relieved of command when he refused to share information about an investigation he was making into smuggler rings here in the castle.”

Celestia vividly remembered the stallion’s powerful build, and his prideful demeanour, but couldn’t for the life of her remember relieving him of his duties.

“The council decreed that he was being deliberately obtuse, and fired him in your name,” Aegis helpfully supplied at her questioning look. “They even turned his name into a verb with a particularly nasty connotation.”

“And nopony ever thought to appoint a new Captain of the Guard?”

Aegis shrugged helplessly. “Last I was told, the decision was being sent ‘up the chain’ which I guess means that there’s a document about it buried somewhere in there.” He tilted his head towards Celestia’s writing desk, and the stacks of papers that seemed as insurmountable as ever. "Day to day decision-making simply shifted down a rung, which was working fine until...” he shrugged helplessly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well until now, I guess."

Celestia waved the notion away with a hoof. Even if such a document existed, there was no reasonable way to find it, if she’d even cared to in the first place.

She didn’t.

“Anything else?”

“We got word from the team looking into into the Duchess’ disappearance earlier today,” Aegis continued, picking up where her left off. “There was no sign of the mare herself, and there was nothing incriminating in the Blueblood mansion. The investigators are wondering if she was involved at all.”

Celestia nodded silently. She was under no delusions about her relationship with Blueblood. The mare likely had little but disdain for her, and the feeling was mutual.

As much as she disliked the mare, however, she had some redeeming qualities. The Duchess was no books-in-hoof intellectual, but had nevertheless become a savvy politician. Many of Equestria’s best trade routes and deals had been negotiated by her, for instance, and she had diffused tense situations among the noble houses on more than one occasion.

In that same vein, she had actually made significantly more friends than enemies while expanding the esteem of house Blueblood. She had, with sheer personality, managed to make peace with the one or two noble houses that had been long-standing opponents, and had even set a precedent by trading with predatory races like the gryphons when few others had been willing to even entertain the thought. Because of those achievements, Celestia could not help but respect the Duchess, even if she was a pain in the rump on a personal level.

That respect, too, was mutual. Or so she hoped.

“Oh, right,” Aegis continued, after a moment’s delay. “Twilight’s parents came by.”

That brought Celestia out of her short-lived musings. “They did? What did you tell them? They weren’t in here were they?” She cast a furtive glance around the room, feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. Not to mention the sudden awareness of the relative silence that permeated the room. Notable only because of absence of Twilight’s questions. And only now, after being prompted, did she remember Twilight herself saying something similar.

“I tried to assure them that Twilight wasn’t anywhere near the attempt, but they didn’t seem to believe me,” Aegis explained with a look as if he was still trying to figure out how they’d known. “So I told them that the castle is the safest place in Equestria right now.”

Celestia arched an eyebrow. From the conversation she’d had with Twilight Velvet, she doubted that either of Twilight’s parents were so easily dissuaded if they truly believed otherwise. “And? Did they buy it?”

Aegis shrugged. “They made me promise to protect her with my life,” he said with a dry smile.

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. She’d expected as much after her conversation with Twilight’s mother. “Did you?”

He almost scoffed and turned it into an awkward cough. “Of course I did. She’s always near and around you, Princess, and at this point I’m not about to let anything happen to either of you.”

It was a heartfelt statement, if, perhaps, a little presumptuous. Celestia appreciated it all the same. “So where is Twilight?” She asked, subjecting the room to another, more overt search.

“I sent her off with Rook.” Aegis shifted his neck, trying to work the stiffness out from their long conversation. “He volunteered to help Sunny Scrolls again, and I thought it might be interesting for her to see how petitions work.” He smiled. “And even if it isn’t, it’s better for her to be bored in the throne room than liven things up by making another splatactular appearance.”

Celestia smiled, and shook her head. It was time to take some action, and while she herself still needed to rest, that didn’t mean that others couldn’t help with the reorganization. “Would you say that Sunny’s hunch has merit to it?” she asked.

“About the guards following our lead?” Aegis shrugged. “I think so, Princess, although I haven’t exactly asked a lot of them. Rook could probably tell you with more certainty.”

“Good enough. Do you know anypony in the guard with an eye for leadership potential?”

Aegis got up and snapped to attention. “Yes, Princess. My drill sergeant always made examples of the ponies that would rise highest. He gave them harder tasks than the others.”

So either an eye for it, or nurturing leadership through training... Celestia shook her head again. It didn’t matter. Right now it would serve its purpose. “I imagine he worked you to the bone then.” It wasn’t a question, and Aegis didn’t respond like it was. “Tell him I want him to find our next Captain of the Guard. For now, you’re acting captain.” She held up a hoof and nodded before Aegis had even opened his mouth. “I know, I know. I meant Rook. Tell him that he’s acting captain.”

Aegis grinned but paired it with a respectful salute. “As you wish, Princess.” He turned and headed for the double doors but came to a halt before going through them. “Will you be alright, Princess?” he asked, looking back with a concerned frown.

Celestia motioned to a pegasus squad that passed by the windows. “I doubt I’ll have a lot of privacy for the foreseeable future, but yes, Aegis, I think I’ll be fine.” She let out a sigh and got up gingerly. If she was forced to rest, the least she could do was work on correspondence and the like. “Oh and Aegis?”

The guard had almost closed the doors but stuck his head back into the room immediately. “Yes, Princess?”

“After you’re done with that, could you bring Twilight to me?”

He nodded.”Yes, Princess.”

After the doors closed, Celestia looked at the piles of horror on her desk, and thought better of it. She left the papers for what they were and walked back to her bed, letting herself collapse on top of it, and draping the covers around herself like a cocoon like she’d seen Twilight do. It was a little hard to do without magic, but it was wonderfully warm. Perhaps, she thought to herself while snuggling into the covers. Perhaps indulging and resting a little would not be such a bad idea after all.

Though she’d been in the throne room before, Twilight had been too preoccupied with getting the Princess’ attention, and subsequently with not dying, to take in much of the architecture. Now, after gawking at it for a little while, she came to the conclusion that it was a very pretty room.

The throne itself was obviously the first thing anypony noticed whenever they entered the room. Big enough to seat almost four fully grown ponies, or about a dozen fillies of Twilight’s size, it nevertheless looked softer than any bed Twilight had ever seen. It was adorned with gold filigree of course, but Twilight didn’t care about that nearly as much as most ponies seemed to. All in all, it was a monolithic centerpiece that inspired awe in the young filly. Which wasn’t too say that the rest of the room was anything other than opulent.

From carpets with clearly defined embellishments that, while pretty, also helped separate the audience from the petitioners, to the symmetrical columns that held up the ceiling, to even the roof which had a painting of a flight of pegasi on it. All of it made the rest of the castle look like a shabby cottage in comparison. Or at the very least a much more... sober place.

Unfortunately, the prettiness of the throne room could not hold up against the utterly uninteresting things happening within. Ponies came and went, asking for all sorts of difficult things like ‘arbitration’ and icky things like where to put a new public restroom. One pony wanted to know how the Princess was doing, the next wanted to know if funding for schools would be cut (As much as Twilight loved learning, she didn’t like schools very much, so that one sounded fine to her) and yet another wanted to know why the weather team was late with the rains.

In a word: boring. Not helped in the least by the fact that Rook had hardly even acknowledged that she was even there after they’d arrived. Most of the time, he just stood there like a big dumb statue. The only indications that he was even alive came in those rare occasions when Sunny Scrolls asked for his input, or when he stepped in to make ponies quiet down.

From what Twilight knew of Miss Sunny Scrolls, she seemed to be a nice enough mare, if a little strict with the rules. She remembered the Princess mentioning that Sunny had been in charge of handling some important paperwork for her, but hadn’t had the time anymore after she’d started overseeing court. Twilight now knew why. Even if anypony liked doing this sort of thing, there were simply too many petition-ponies for one pony to handle all by themselves. And from the looks of things, Miss Sunny didn’t really like doing court, though she was really good at getting ponies to agree on things. While Twilight didn’t understand what most of the explanations and conversations that were being had Miss Sunny patiently listened until ponies were finished, and sometimes asked other ponies that sat right below her for their opinions on things before giving them an answer. She looked like she’d swallowed a sour grape the whole time, though. Maybe even several.

Nopony asked Twilight anything. She’d tried to amuse herself by following along with the court happenings, but that quickly and decisively went absolutely nowhere. After that she tried practicing the illusions spell, which could have helped if Sunny hadn’t shot her an even more sour look after the second attempt. Lastly, she’d tried to play a little game with Rook, trying to guess which roles ponies would play in books going by their appearance. He didn’t participate. If only the Princess were better. Twilight didn’t know how long ago they’d arrived in the throne room, but it already felt like forever.

It was another forever of silently watching court proceedings before anything interesting happened and even then, it wasn’t what Twilight had been hoping for.

She, and several other ponies, were pulled out of a slumbering trance when the two big doors to the room were thrown open, and a group of ponies made their way inside. The pony that had caused the trance rambled on as though nothing had happened. It didn’t look like he’d even noticed. “And as you can see on this graph, the northern part of the country is experiencing a drought that could be solved simply by—”

“We demand the head of Duchess Blueblood!” One of the mares in the front of the pack of ponies yelled, startling and silencing the previous speaker, which she pushed aside with a look of disdain.

Twilight thought the mare looked kind of pretty. She had a bright blue mane and a simple earth colored coat, but she looked like she’d taken a bath in sapphires. Every few inches, her coat was interrupted by a another sparkling gem, and her makeup followed the trend set forth by her mane. Unfortunately, the disdain that seemed etched into the mare’s face all but ruined the effect it was supposed to have. It did however, make her seem imposing, and Twilight didn’t want to talk to her if she didn’t have to.

Miss Sunny had no such qualms, and her agitation shone through in her response. “And what makes you think you have the right to demand something like that, Countess Thoroughbred? Has she wronged you personally?”

Sunny’s reply seemed to take the mare aback. “Well, no, not as such, but she masterminded the attack on the Princess.”

“Based on what evidence?”

“She’s been undermining the Princess’ authority at every possible occasion, and furthermore, she hired those assassins that posed as tutors!”

“So you have evidence that she was aware that they were assassins when she hired them?”

“Well... no.” The mare floundered for a moment before redoubling her efforts in an even louder tone of voice. “But she still ought to be punished!”

“Rest assured, if and when we find her, Duchess Blueblood will be held accountable for the wrongs she has committed.” The entire group of ponies that had barged in cheered. “That being a given, however,” Sunny continued over their cheers. “We have no conclusive proof that she has done any wrong beyond being a disruptive force in the castle. You ponies on the other hoof, are interfering with court affairs, making baseless accusations at the address of one of Equestria’s eldest noble houses, and are sowing distrust. Which is not to speak of the problems your earlier actions caused the throne and the Princess by extension. I could have you jailed for any and all of these, but out of respect for your own supposed nobility, I will refrain, for now.” Sunny Scrolls shifted a little on the throne and whipped her tail behind herself menacingly. It looked a lot like a cat toying with a mouse to Twilight. “So do us all a favor and kindly remove yourself from the room before I ask the guards to do it for you.”

There was some sour grumbling from the group, and more than a few hackles were raised, but it seemed like none of them actually dared talk back after Sunny’s response. She kind of reminded Twilight of a very strict teacher she’d had.

“Fine,” The mare leading the group said finally. “But don’t think this is the last you hear of us. If something isn’t done soon we won’t be the only ones here demanding justice be served.”

“Let me worry about that, thank you.” Sunny retorted angrily, making shooing motions with her hooves. “Why don’t you all go organize a garden party or something? Some of us have real work to do.”

There was more sputtering, but in the end the nobles left with a minimum of fuss, and a measure of order returned to the court. And with that order, the boredom returned as well.

For a time, Twilight managed to entertain herself with what-if’s and maybe’s. What would she do if she were a Princess? She would definitely make cookies a staple food, and require ponies to read at least one book every month by law. Maybe she’d become a powerful Queen one day? There would definitely be lots of dress-up dinner diversions and plenty of play-pretend parties. In either case, she didn’t want to hear one word about ‘court’ or anything like it.

What if ponies tried to hurt the Princess again? That one, she really didn’t want to think about. And luckily, A messenger pony (a creamy white pegasus that looked familiar) saved her from having to entertain the thought. The pegasus came up to the dias from one of the side doors, and headed straight for Miss Sunny. She bounded up to the regent and excitedly began whispering into her ears.

The messenger pony wasn’t the first one to have shown up during court proceedings. They had been coming and going even before Twilight and Rook had arrived at the courtroom. It was, however, the first time that Sunny held up a hoof and called for silence from the trio of ponies that were presenting their argument for a new and improved pegasus taxi service. “A moment of patience, please,” She told the room before turning to the Pegasus.

“Tell me again, Seabreeze. Without skipping every other word if you would?”

“I lost the baby dragon!” Seabreeze almost yelled, her voice cutting out just before ‘baby’ as her eyes darted over to the spectators down below. That did not, however, mean that Twilight couldn’t hear her.

Baby dragon? Twilight had always thought that the baby dragon she’d hatched during her exam, had been given back to its parents. Now, while Seabreeze told Sunny of how she had turned her back on the baby for ‘just a moment’ however, Twilight realised that that wasn’t the case. Moreover, she was sure that the Princess would have given the baby back to its parents as soon as possible, so if she hadn’t...

Maybe it doesn’t have any parents? Twilight wracked her brain trying to remember what to do when an animal didn’t have any parents. According to the ‘Nature’s Preservation’s Guide’s Guide to Nature Preservation’ animals would have to be given to caretakers to be... well... taken care of. She didn’t know if dragons counted, however, since she’d heard the two massive ones that visited the castle talk, just like any old pony.

Furrowing her brow she delved deeper into the stores of knowledge excessive book reading had provided her with. Maybe dragons were a little like chickens. Smarter, obviously, given that the ones that had visited the castle after the... problem had apparently talked to Sunny. From what she knew of chickens, the mother always hatched the eggs. Did that mean that she was its mother? Another crease appeared in her forehead. If it didn’t have it’s own parents, or worse, it’s parents didn’t want it (hens didn’t much care for peeps they hadn’t hatched themselves, right?) then what would happen to it? She imagined having no parents to tuck her in at night, or read to her, or tell her things would be alright when it seemed they wouldn’t ever be alright again.

The thought made her sick in her stomach. It felt awful, and if it felt awful for her, then it must be really REALLY awful for a little baby dragon. With a resolute nod directed at herself, she got up. If nopony else wanted it, then she had the responsivabilitiness to take good care of it.

After a glance at Rook and Sunny and a sneaky tip-toey motion towards the door she vanished from the throne room. There was a baby dragon she needed to take care of. She just needed to find it first.

Rest and relaxation. Celestia understood the concept, but it seemed like every time she put the concept into practice, it felt slightly off. Like a dress that didn’t quite fit, laying down in bed doing nothing made her uneasy after a time. She was used to doing. Acting. Making decisions.

Being forced to rest, was several times worse still. It did, however, give her ample time to think and plan. Political restructuring, criminal investigation, even an actual lesson plan for Twilight. That last one was likely the most important one. The duel had shown her something she should have seen from the start: Twilight was not a unicorn... not a magic user in the way her other students had been.

Magic was understood by most ponies to be akin to a scientific subject, like math. There were right and wrong answers when it came to spells or their application. A plus B equaled C, and if it didn’t you were doing it wrong. The magic that resulted from that thinking was still more than flexible enough for most anypony, although the archaic manner in which it was taught was a little cumbersome. For Twilight, however, magic was art. A creative endeavour that could be changed. Molded into something that fit the situation.

Twilight was definitely going to have to learn to turn the valve on her magic reserves, (Throwing an entire lake full of water at a kitchen fire was rarely the right solution.) but Celestia now saw that it was less about teaching her sequences and formulas, and more about teaching her... well, everything really. Creativity thrived on a wide range of experiences, and perhaps that was more important to teaching Twilight magic than anything.

As such the new and improved lesson plan, such as it was, included a lot more general lessons. Math, astronomy, and literature, were in there, sure, but she had no doubt that Twilight would handle those subjects with aplomb. Learning to draw, write, and maybe even dance were much more important. As were the things that Celestia couldn’t really plan for, like trips outside of the castle.

Teaching her to think outside of the box wasn’t solely for Twilight’s benefit, however. The more Celestia mulled over the dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream, the more she believed it was a premonition of sorts. For all the details that she couldn’t quite recall, two things were very clear.

The first was, that the elements hadn’t ‘disappeared’ Luna entirely. She believed that once again. She had to.

As for the second thing... She would never get to the place, or time, or what have you, where she could have her sister back on her own. She needed Twilight. Perhaps even more than Twilight needed her.

Twilight, an adorable filly who had stolen herself a place in Celestia’s heart from the first lesson she’d tried to give. Twilight, a filly wise beyond her years, who had told her it was okay to cry, when she herself had forgotten. Twilight, a scared young child who had stood up to a dangerous assassin because she didn’t want to leave Celestia alone.

Twilight, who would pull her through the barrier that separated her from the future in which she could have her sister back.

Celestia shivered when a chill ran down her spine and looked around her room. Flowers had heralded spring some time ago, and her room wasn’t especially cold. Perhaps she was just getting too used to having blankets wrapped around herself. She tossed them off and gingerly stepped out of bed. There was no reason for it, it was some time after noon and after Aegis had left, all had been quiet. But then, that was kind of the problem, wasn’t it? It was too quiet.

She needed somepony to talk to. Somepony with whom she could share her hopes and dreams without being called crazy. Already halfway to the balcony, she froze mid-step. Would ponies believe her if she told them it was a premonition? A vision? Given the rumors about her supposed ability to ‘burn’ away ponies’ magic, they probably would.

It was an alarming realisation to have. Luckily, it came with its own version of a silver lining. While Celestia was convinced that Twilight would, somehow, be the key to getting her sister back; she did not believe that it was preordained or anything like that. Even if it had been, she always liked to play it safe. If ponies really believed that she could foresee the future, then perhaps she could influence them to make whatever Twilight needed to do that tiny bit easier.

Out on the balcony, she was struck by just how cold the winds were, and made a quick(ish) trip back to the bed to bring her sheets along. She draped them around herself and looked down at the city for a moment, before looking up at the sky. The sun hung behind her, she could feel the warmth of its rays on her shoulders, but right now, she wanted to talk to its sibling. Her sibling.

The sun, imposing and bright as it was, helped her in whatever way it could. It was a constant companion. A friend. And in the same way having somepony to help carry a large cabinet made such a thing easier, for her, the sun made it easy, obediently rising and falling with the barest touch of her magic.

The moon, by contrast, did everything it could to make it harder. It was delicate, in a way, but nevertheless a huge influence in its own right. It behaved more like a cat that needed to be coaxed out of hiding, hissing all the while. Sometimes there was simply no way of getting around the time restrictions, and Celestia had even wrangled it. before it would begrudgingly do as she asked. Celestia chose for the latter and hoisted the moon up into the sky, heedless of anypony that might quirk an eyebrow. Or panic.

Lacking the brilliance of its sister, the moon appeared in the sky as an apparition of it’s more common nightly splendor. That did not, however, mean that the imprint of the nightmare wasn’t clearly visible to Celestia. She despised the monster and all it had cost her, but she hadn’t pulled the moon out of its slumber to experience that pain.

She had somepony she wanted to talk to.

“Hello, Luna,” she began, trying to look past the face on the moon, and into the memory of what Luna had been like. “It’s me again.” She chuckled at herself, it wasn’t a happy chuckle. Of course it would be her, nopony else even remembered Luna.

The moon offered no response. The frozen image of the ‘Mare on the Moon’ simply looked off into some distant star, utterly impassive.

“Sorry I stopped talking to you. I guess... I guess I ran out of ways to say ‘sorry’,” Celestia shook her head and looked up again. “I guess that’s not really true either. Sorry. Life has been... hectic, and I guess I just didn’t feel like I could bear thinking of you every day.” It was an honest assessment of how she’d felt. Almost brutally so, and she felt the truth of it as a maul to her heart.

Taking a long moment to banish the dour thoughts that assailed her, she instead tried to think about what she wanted to tell with her sister. There was so much she wanted to share. Decades of experiences and developments both within the technological and without. Centuries even, but she did not have the time to relay all that had happened. She found she could not even properly remember it all.

“I want you to know that I’m doing well,” she told the moon after waving to and waiting for a pair of Pegasi guards to fly by. “I’ve fired the council for being a bunch of work-shy annoyances, and even promoted one of my aides to court official.” The last part especially brought with it a deep sigh. Celestia had no doubt that Sunny was trying her very hardest to keep that part of the system running, but it was clear as crystal that the mare had a lot to learn still.

She wondered if she should tell Luna about the attempt on her life, but decided against it. Luna had always been somewhat of a worrywart. “I took a new student,” she continued, with a small smile. “One of the brightest fillies I’ve ever met. Even if she’s more than a little headstrong...” Her train of thought didn’t so much derail as it simply decided to go walkabout. “But thanks to her, however indirectly, I know that you’re still out there. Or at least, I hope you are. I guess she’s given me a fool’s hope.”

It was strange to think of Luna as being alive without knowing where she was. Where could she really be? The moon felt like an obvious place, until you went there and checked. Celestia had checked. “So, I guess I’m wondering how you are doing... and hoping that you’re having pleasant dreams, wherever you are.” She could not imagine it being a very happy place, whatever it was. Being blasted by the elements of harmony was supposed to be a punishment after all. Dreams, at least, would give her little sister no trouble. She took comfort in the thought.

“I will bring you back,” she finally said after waiting for another patrol of Pegasi to pass. “Somehow.”

Routine was the death of a creative mind. That was the philosophy that drove Mead to experiment with his dishes nearly constantly. Repetition was unavoidable, of course. He did work in a kitchen, and had a responsibility to see to the dietary needs of those living in the castle. Big breakfast, buffets for lunch, and lavish dinners, those were unavoidable, although he frequently changed the menu for each, to keep things fresh. In his experiments, too, some repetition was necessary. You didn’t design a good dish in one try, after all.

He could say with pride that he had made more mistakes than edible dishes. Four times as many by his conservative estimate. As far as he was concerned, that was the only way forward. It was an ideology that more often than not caused some delay during the crunch times of morning and evening as he frequently rearranged cooking utensils to keep everypony on their toes, which, he hoped, kept their creative juices flowing.

Today had started out great. Hot Plate had suggested they try a quiche buffet for breakfast. An unusual suggestion to say the least, but he hadn’t seen any reason to disagree. It had been a great success to the point that many breakfast goers had come by the kitchen to express their satisfaction and asked if they could do it again sometimes in the near future. That in turn had boosted the spirits of the cooks, inspiring them to come up with more new ideas.

Then, after another failure (a souffle recipe. No matter what he tried, it always deflated within minutes) he had the brilliant idea to use it as a base instead. Filling it with egg and pieces of roasted carrot and sweet peppers, and he’d turned it into a delectable looking dish.

Yes, today was going well.

Thought that wasn’t to say that there weren’t some challenges. No matter how many positives in the day, the entire castle seemed on edge ever since the attack on Celestia. Mead personally felt that there was little to be done but wait for her to recover (and hopefully create some excellent dishes that helped speed up that recovery) but he could understand the consternation. For as long as ponies could remember their Princess had been an immovable rock upon which their view of the world was based.

Some of the cooks were still making rookie mistakes because of nerves, and it slowed down everything. For Mead, however, it just meant that he would have to work a little harder. He was no stranger to hard work, and pressure also lead to some of the more interesting things in life.

“Mister MEEEEAAAADDDDDDD!?”

And things were about to become even more interesting. Honey Mead laughed to himself and shook his head, wiping the suds and water from the dishes he’d been doing off on his apron before turning around. “Hello, little mi—”

Twilight zoomed past him, and he almost missed the tiny column of smoke wafting from the top of her mane before Twilight dunked her head into the sink he’d been using mere seconds ago. While Mead could think of more than one question to ask the young filly, his first thought when she resurfaced was a comparison to when one of his daughters had given the cat a ‘bath’ in the toilet. That then lead him to wonder what Twilight would look like as a cat, which made him stifle a chuckle.

The two of them looked at each other, neither saying a word. Then, suddenly, Twilight yelped and spun around in a circle trying to get at something on her back. For a moment Mead was convinced that some other part of the filly had caught fire, perhaps due to some sort of failed spell. The truth of it was much more interesting.

Twilight whirled around and tried in vain to pry several locks of her mane from the grip of a tiny dragon that sat on her back. The dragon was cooing happily, oblivious of the torment he was inflicting on the filly, and unconcerned by Twilight’s flailing. Mead chuckled at the spectacle and grabbed a ceramic pot from a nearby cupboard. He then nudged the back of the little reptile’s head, blowing on the fin like protrusions at the side, earning himself the dragon’s attention.

“Here you go little buddy,” he said warmly, pulling the stoppered lid from the pot and deftly pulling out a pickled gherkin which he then waved in front its face.

The dragon sniffed the air, cooing softly when it smelled the gherkin, and let go of Twilight’s hair in favor of the apparent treat on offer. The shift in weight almost made it fall from Twilight’s back, but luckily, that was something Mead had anticipated. Three decades worth of parenting experience caring for four little devils of children had prepared him for much worse.

He smoothly caught the baby dragon on one of his legs and gently lowered the baby dragon to the floor before looking it over with a keen eye. “And who might you be?” The dragon had, in true baby fashion, lost the first gherkin in seconds and responded only in the form of two outstretched paws towards him. He gave it another cucumber and turned to Twilight instead. “I see you’ve found a friend.”

Twilight groaned softly and pouted at the burnt hairs of her mane. “He’s not a friend,” she said earnestly. “He’s my baby.”

“Your baby?” Mead looked over the little dragon once again, trying to find any sort of resemblance. The fins didn’t match, and obviously the species didn’t, but the coat did. He shrugged to himself and handed the baby another gherkin, if only for the image of a little dragon with a gherkin in each claw, and the perplexed look on said dragon’s face. It was obviously having trouble deciding what to do with such abundance. Come to think of it, it wasn’t all too dissimilar from how Twilight had looked at the breakfast spread a few weeks back.

Mead chuckled to himself. “I can see the similarities. When did you get him? And where have you been hiding him all this time?”

“I hatched him!” Twilight all but shouted while she endeavoured to climb onto one of the counters. She met with limited success by using a small stool Mead’s own kids sometimes used when they needed to stir a pot. It slipped away just as she pushed off, leaving her dangling from the counter by her forehooves. Before Mead could move to give her a helping hoof, however, the filly reached for a pan she probably thought could use for leverage, but which sadly dumped both her and the pan back onto the floor. Luckily, the pan had been empty, having just come from Mead’s soapy water. Twilight’s grousing was audible from underneath. “That means I’m his mommy,” she said after pushing the pan off and righting herself.

“I see...” Mead said thoughtfully. The young dragon had decided that both gherkins were equally worthy of its attention and had stuffed both of them into its mouth, sucking on them with equal measure of wonder and glee. It stopped when Mead lowered his head and cooed happily before going back to its meal. “What’s its...” he paused briefly to recall the differences between male and female dragons’ fins. “...His name?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight replied, sitting down next to the dragon, reacting quickly when the little bugger lost his balance and gently laying him down onto the rough stone floor of the kitchen. “I don’t think he has a name yet... wait... it’s a he?” She looked from the dragon, to Mead, and back to the dragon. “How do you know?”

Mead scooped up both Twilight and the dragon, depositing them on one of the kitchen counters when one of his cooks cantered past. “See this shell-like fin here?” He pointed at it with a hoof, while using the other to support the dragon’s back.

Twilight inspected the structure closely and thoroughly before she nodded.

“Well, that part is smaller and more oblong when it’s a girl,” Mead continued. “Has to do with their horns, which guy-dragons don’t have.” He watched twilight open her mouth, close it, open it again, and repeating all of that for about a minute until Mead was pretty sure she just couldn’t settle on which question to ask.

“Oblong?” Was the word that finally passed the filly’s lips, along with a healthy dose of confusion.

Mead chuckled, reminding himself that the filly he was talking to was only eight. “More stretched out. Longer but thinner.”

“Oh.” Twilight inspected the side of the dragon’s head again, before asking: “How do you know all of that, mister Mead? I tried looking for books on dragons, but the library only had breezytales.”

With a grand clearing of his throat, Mead sat down and began. “When I was younger, not quite as young as you are now, but still little more than a colt for all intents and purposes, I traveled the world. I hadn’t gotten my cutiemark yet, and I was searching for what made me special...”

Grand tales were Mead’s forte. He could go on for hours upon hours about the interesting (or uninteresting) things he had experienced throughout his life. Some of those tales were even true. Before he could get properly settled in his latest one, however, a big ‘clang’ and a string of yelled curses pulled him back to his domain. “I’ll tell you later,” he said with an apologetic smile before getting up to help out.

The problem turned out to be one of the kitchen’s cauldrons. It was a monstrosity in sheer size, easily as big as five ponies stacked atop one another. It had ruptured, covering a big part of the kitchen in withers height viscous meal, ruining several other dishes when it swept over a few counters. Luckily, the only casualty was Turnip’s favorite apron. Worse was the fact that those contents were in fact the stew they kept in reserve in case anypony needed anything to eat quickly during the off hours. Pandemonium reigned in the kitchen, as it often did, ponies screaming at the mess and at one another, while Mead shouted his orders over all of that.

He barely registered Twilight trying to help out with a mop she had found Celestia-knew-where. She was being more than less than unhelpful, but he didn’t feel the need to tell her that. What he, and the other cooks did very much register, however, was the dragon bursting into tears once or twice. Dragon or not, baby or not, the kid had an impressive set of lungs. Much to the relief of everypony, he quieted down quickly when Twilight abandoned her cleaning to hug and talk to him instead.

With the mess cleaned up, and dinner still hours away, Mead went back to Twilight and her new companion. He found the baby dragon sleepily looking up at Twilight, while the filly made grand gestures with her hooves. She’d sat down, and put the dragon in between her hind legs so that he could lean against her, much in the way that Mead had done with his own children when they were still younglings. Heck, he still did so with Pepper Pots, his youngest. Twilight did not seem to be aware of her audience’s waning attention, but then, she didn’t really know dragons in the way Mead did.

“And then once we find the special potion that makes you stronger, you’ll be bigger than a mountain! And I’ll be a princess and we’ll go flying. Every. Day,” Twilight finished her story and smiled at Mead. “Hey, Mister Mead. Is everything fixed now?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Mead eyed the pot. It would take a while before that one could be replaced. “More or less,” he replied. Looking back at the pair, he just caught the young dragon’s eyes flutter closed, and smiled in turn. “Have you come up with a name for him yet?”

“Spike,” Twilight declared proudly. “His name is Spike. Or maybe Spikes.” She closed her forelegs around the little drake for a hug, but proceeded so tenderly that Mead wondered if he’d misjudged her awareness. “I wanted to call him ‘Grapes’ first, because he’s purple with a little bit of green like you sometimes see when they’re not ripe yet? But I thought that ponies would make fun of him at school with a name like that. So then I wanted to call him Shelly because he came out of an egg with like... a shell, but then I thought about it some more, and it seemed even worse.” She frowned, shrugged, and hugged her dozing dragon a little tighter. “But then I noticed his tail has these very small spikes on it, and he seemed to like it. So that’s his name.”

Mead nodded. Spike, or Spikes for that matter, didn’t really sound like a great name to him either, but he had learned that it was far easier to let foals figure out their own mistakes. And even if Twilight didn’t change her mind, he was sure that it would be seen as a normal name in no time at all. Little Twilight seemed to have a knack for getting things to work out in her favor. Perhaps it was Celestia’s influence. That mare always got what she wanted sooner or later. Speaking of Celestia... “Shouldn’t you be with the Princess?” He asked belatedly.

Twilight shook her head. “Aegis insisted the princess needed her sleep, so he told me I could explore the castle as long as Rook knows where I am,” she said, keeping her eyes on Spike.

Mead was pretty sure that she was lying, but figured that as long as he looked after her, returning her to wherever it was she needed to be could be postponed for a little while. He put a hoof to his chin, wondering what keeping the filly busy could entail. Had it been one of his own kids, he would’ve dumped them behind a stove and gone from there, but with Twilight it wasn’t quite that simple. With a soft smile and a shrug, he went back to his dishes. It was always an option, but before he could do anything of the sort, he would first need to get everything ready for dinner rush.

“Mister Mead?” Twilight asked a good five minutes after he had gone back to work. “How do you know so much about dragons? Can you teach me?”

He smiled again and beckoned her over with an inclination of his head. Twilight took a step towards him, but then looked back at Spike with uncertainty. “He’ll be fine, Twilight. You and I can both keep an eye on him there.”

“Right.” Twilight finally smiled back and made her way over to him. It took her a little bit of doing. Hopping down and climbing back up until she could sit down next to where Mead was working. “Mister Mead, what do dragons eat?” She asked following it up with a giggle. “Hey, that rhymed.”

“In a moment,”Mead replied with a smile. He put away a freshly washed plate and picked up the next one. “First, I wanna know where you found him. Last I remember, the Princess doesn’t exactly keep dragons in the castle.” And if she had, then why hadn’t he heard about it?

“Like I said, I hatched him.” Twilight glanced back at where she’d left Spike. “He was part of my entrance exam into the school for gifted unicorns— or I guess not him, but at his egg was.”

It sounded incredible. Unbelievable, even. Mead had, once upon a time, had a conversation with Celestia’s about her philosophy on the trials. Simply put, the lesson young unicorns were supposed to take away from it was that perseverance was more important of an atribute than success. The challenges were not designed to be overcome. Much as he liked Twilight, he wasn’t quite ready to believe that the filly may in fact have done the impossible.

“So you’ve been hiding him in your room all this time and simply forgot to tell me about it?” He quipped, deciding to keep the situation light. Just because what Twilight told him sounded implausible, didn’t mean that she was lying after all. And somepony doing the impossible? Well, he had seen, firsthoof, that the impossible wasn’t always that.

Twilight giggled softly. “No, silly,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought his parents had come to take him away, but then I found out that they’d lost him somewhere. So I started looking around and found him chewing on his own tail.” She fell silent after that, looking around the kitchen much like she had the first time she had set hoof in there, although there was the occasional glance at the dra— at Spike, who was still happily suckling on his twin gherkins. Mead, just about done with the dishes, wondered if she was looking something specific. Before he had the chance to ask as much, however, the inevitable happened.

“Twilight!” Rook’s voice thundered through the kitchen. The guard was not a soft-spoken pony at the best of times, the sheer volume was enough to give Mead a headache. The guard stomped down the staircase and marched over to the filly who, in turn, scrambled over to hide behind Mead. “What do you think you’re doing sneaking away like that? Are you mad?!”

“I didn’t sneak away, I was just—” Twilight began from behind Mead, half sticking out of the dishwater she’d scrambled right into.

“Just what?” Rook demanded, looking past Mead as if he wasn’t even there. “There’s half a platoon of guard guards out looking for you and— Is that the hatchling?”

“Yes! I found him!” Twilight said defiantly, suds and the fact that she was still hiding behind Mead notwithstanding. “He was all alone in a small alcove near the Dining Hall and I—”

“You weren’t supposed to go looking for him in the first place,” Rook growled. “You were told to stay with me while the Princess rests. Is it really so hard for you to follow orders?”

“I was! It was just so boring, and then I heard that there was a baby dragon in the castle, and that he was missing and alone, and didn’t have any parents. So then I thought to myself: Why doesn’t he have any parents, and then I realised that he had to be the dragon that I hatched during my exam!” A small purple hoof flew by in Mead’s peripheral vision, letting him know that Twilight had likely been gesticulating wildly the whole time. He had to stifle a chuckle. “But there were dragons at the castle earlier, and if they didn’t want him, then he didn’t have anypony... or anydragon... I guess. So I tried to—”

“Quiet!” Rook shouted. “Every single time we find out you ran off on your own you manage to get yourself tangled up in some kind of disaster.” He had been looking around the room while Twilight talked and pointed at the disaster that was the cracked pot. “As soon as I heard that there was some trouble in the kitchen, I knew that I would find you here. What happened this time? Did you cast a spell on it?”

“No!” Twilight shouted back empathically.

“Then what? Teleported into it? Did you try cooking by yourself? What?”

Mead sighed heavily and shook his head. He knew Rook to be a stern but fair stallion and guard, but over the last couple of weeks he had become stricter than ever. Even to the point of being unfairly harsh towards ponies that clearly didn’t deserve it. Twilight certainly didn’t. “She did nothing wrong, Rook. The darned thing was simply old.”

Rook arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure that she’s done something—”

“Rook, walk with me for a moment wouldja?” Mead said, draping a hoof around Rook’s neck. He was almost a head shorter than the robust stallion and likely wouldn’t have been able to move him had Rook resisted. The guard seemed amenable, however, and together they walked over to a different part of the kitchen where the sounds of everyday cooking would keep their conversation relatively private whereupon Mead turned to Rook and asked. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean what’s going on with me?” Rook asked defensively. “I’m just telling that bratty unicorn that she can’t just do as she pleases all the time. We have rules for a reason and she’s no exception.”

Mead took a long look at the stallion in front of him. For an Earth pony, and especially for a Royal Guard, Rook was surprisingly not built like a cover model for the Colts Illustrated magazine. Rather, he was a more heavyset stallion, and not in the way that Mead was either. Where Mead had muscle, Rook had muscle. Where Mead had flab, Rook had muscle. And where Mead had fat, Rook had... more muscle. All of that strength, combined with his grey coat and lighter grey mane, did little to dissuade the comparison to a particularly strong boulder, even with the inclusion of a golden harness and helmet.

But while he looked powerful enough to lift a house by himself, he also looked tired. Bedraggled. Like he hadn’t gotten enough food or sleep for at least a week, or given the recent developments, perhaps two. His armor was still mostly shiney, but the plume of his helmet was in disarray, and every so often, Mead thought he could see the slightest of tremors running through the stallion’s frame.

“She’s only eight years old, Rook,” Mead said quietly. “I can only imagine how difficult the last few weeks have been for you, but that doesn’t mean you take out your frustrations on a kid.”

“I’m not—” Rook began defensively before stopping when Mead held up a hoof.

“Look, it’s not like you and Aegis don’t normally have everything under control. Frankly, I’m often amazed by how much you manage to get done by yourselves. Even with everything going wrong, you two kept most everypony together.” He paired the praise with a big smile and clapped the stallion on the shoulder. “That being said, even you have limits. I’m not gonna lie, you look less like a guard right now, and more like something the cat dragged in.” Mead nodded his head to the other side of the kitchen where Twilight was watching them apprehensively. “Is she really the biggest problem you’ve seen? Or can you admit that, even for you, it’s all a little too much right now?”

Rook clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times before sighing. “You’re right,” he said tersely. “She’s not. But I can’t admit that it’s too much. Not now.” When he looked back at Mead, the stress was clearly written on his face. “We’re on the edge here. Not just on edge, but on the edge. The Princess needs time, and don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna be the one to tell her that we let the country fall apart because she had to take some time off.”

Mead nodded. “Gotcha. But maybe you can leave some of the small stuff to me? Like that filly and the little dragon guy too. They might’ve had a big impact, but they’re pretty small. You’ve got more than your fair share on your plate already, and I could stand to do a little more. Burdens shared’s burdens halved, as my wife always says. Besides, she’s gonna havta learn how to cook eventually, if only to make sure that she doesn’t starve herself again.”

“The Princess made her my responsibility,” Rook said after a prolonged silence. “I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you. I will take care of the both of them.” Mead nudged Rook with a shoulder and walked past him back to where Twilight was. “Burdens shared’s burdens halved. Just let the Princess know I’m keeping them busy. You go and grab yourself a sandwich or twelve and take a break.” He waited for the lump of muscle to do just that and then made his way back to Twilight, grabbing a towel from the side of one of the kitchen counters and tossing it over her. “Now,” he said, grabbing a few ingredients to make something to eat for Twilight as well. “Where was I?”

The towel turned into an undulating mass for the few seconds it took Twilight to get it off of herself after which she looked at him with a smile. “Uhm...” she began. “You were going to tell me how you knew Spike liked gherkins?”

Mead laughed. “Right. Right. So there I was, a young colt who had just gotten his cutiemark setting off alone into the wilds of—”

“But you said you didn’t have your cutiemark yet!”

“Did I?” Mead scratched his head. “Well, don’t mind that, it doesn’t really matter to the story anyway.” He cleared his throat and set the stage with the sweep of a foreleg. “So, there I was, galloping through a field of geysers with nothing on my back except my cooking equipment and a sleeping bag...”

Bonding

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Princess Celestia was many things to many ponies. Her title was most obvious; A monarch in charge of a country and all ponies and non, living therein. To academics she was known as a scholar, knowing more than most ponies alive and sharing what she knew with those with enough persistence to find the small gaps in her schedule. Though Aegis had not experienced it himself, it was taken as read that in the past she had been a General, a tactician, and a peerless warrior. He quietly mused that she must have been many more things in her lifetime. A friend; A lover; Would she ever have been a mother?

With a violent shake of his head Aegis dislodged the thought threatening to consume his mental faculties and turned his attention back to the place he’d found himself in this morning: the throne room. Celestia’s requests hovered in the back of his mind, but between answering noble’s questions about the Princess’ state and a truly nightmarish amount of logistic paperwork that he hadn’t ever known Celestia dealt with on an almost daily basis, he simply hadn’t been able to find the time to fulfill said requests. It had taken him till the early morning hours to sort through it all, and after a quick catnap he’d set off back on his original quest.

That is, before he was roped into lending credence to that morning’s court. Sunny Scrolls handled most of the actual goings on therein but it was his duty to help make sure daily life in Canterlot proceeded in as normal a manner as it possibly could. A hopeless task by the looks of it. The throne room was packed to the brim with all manner of creatures coming forward with all manner of issues. Most notably, if it could be called notable, was a bright-eyed young stallion who nevertheless brought with him dire news of problems with the construction of the railway to the south because of lack of oversight from the capitol.

For no discernable reason, he felt ill at ease. Ever since the attack, there was an edge to his senses that made the small amount of sleep he got fitful, and had seen him a hair's breadth away from accusing otherwise innocent ponies of crimes against Equestria several times. He tried to calm himself with the knowledge that the castle security had been doubled, and that any possibly assailants would have to go through a whole cadre of guards before they got to the Princess. Even so, especially here, with a large group of ponies he couldn’t immediately place, he found himself constantly looking for any hint or sign that could point to ponies with ill intentions. There had to be more than just the few that had attempted a direct assault. There were too many variables and the would-be assassins had been third-rate to say the least.

Celestia meant different things to him as well. First and foremost, she was his charge. Supposedly. For a time he had thought it preposterous; A mare so powerful that she literally kept the world going was going to be protected by a mere stallion like himself? Romantic chivalrous ideals aside, he’d considered it laughable. Then, it had simply become a matter of course. But before now, he had never honestly considered his guardianship necessary.

That, he thought, was the crux of the issue.

Celestia had always tried to explain her decisions, to get ponies to understand why she made certain choices rather than dismissing their objections or worries out of hoof like so many of the conceited nobles were wont to do. The young filly’s arrival had seemingly changed something in that dynamic. Where Twilight was concerned, she seemed fully committed to continuing her mentoring ways, but did so by setting up problems to solve rather than handing her the answer. On the other hoof, Celestia had seemingly shed some of the leniency she was willing to give those that questioned her, himself included.

With that also came one of the other rarely seen roles Celestia supposedly had: That of a delegator. Even before he was old enough to truly understand what it meant, there had been ponies who called the Princess a control freak. To his shame, he had even believed it in his teenage years. The gossip painted Celestia as a mare who never wanted to let go of any shred of her authority. Some speculated it was for fear of losing control of the country to the nobles, others that it was her only pleasure in life; lording over others, and some of the crazies even dared suggest that she had power only because so many ponies believed she did, and that she might well disappear should ponies stop believing. After becoming a guard but before his promotion to a personal one, he had devoted a lot of his spare time to try and dispel such baseless conjecture, though with the clarity of hindsight he now realised he might only have been making the problem worse.

Which made it all the more remarkable that Celestia had immediately passed over control of the guards. She was weakened because of the attack, to be sure, but the perpetrators would have kept until she had recovered. He caught himself grimacing and with a long since ingrained discipline pulled his face back into the impassive stare that all guards ought to have.

Thinking about the one had invariably brought him to the other one. The big one. The one label he had never thought would apply to his Princess: Vulnerable.

He himself didn’t know if he scanned the room again merely to distract himself and put off thinking about his greatest failure for a few fleeting moments, or if he was genuinely worried that more might be forthcoming. Perhaps it was both. Again, he came up empty. There were a few pegasi that had taken off to try and look over the crowd, but they were already being confronted by the guards stationed around the sides. A minotaur was making quite the scene by dint of his volume alone, but the ‘taur seemed genuinely sorry when somepony pointed it out to him. The one thing that might actually qualify as a potential threat was a small group of ponies -obviously nobles- who were muttering discontentedly on the side, but even they weren’t really a threat in the way Aegis was worried about.

Celestia was strong. Powerful. Politically, physically, magically. She was quite literally the pony that kept the world turning in more ways than one. For the longest time she had seemed invincible for all intents and purposes, to the point Aegis himself, and he guessed Rook as well, had become lax in their duties. After all, who in their right mind would want to attack the one keeping the sun and moon in check, while also being aware that they would never get away with it even if they managed to do any kind of damage?

Yet they had. Worse, they’d almost succeeded in their task. At the mere thought he felt the clenching of his heart and the constricting of his throat that made it hard to breathe. They had only gotten as close as they did because he hadn’t done his job properly. He should have made a note of the fact that there were ponies besides Twilight and that insufferable colt in that room. It should have alarmed him that he hadn’t been told. He should have insisted on searching them so as to assure himself that they weren’t carrying anything dangerous on them. But he had grown lax. He had allowed himself to believe that he was little more than decoration because nothing could harm Princess Celestia.

A high pitched ‘ding’ startled him out of his ruminations. Sunny Scrolls had told him before court started that she had turned to a sort of gong to quiet the room and mark important proclamations, but it still caught him off guard. “That is all we have time for today, ponies. For those came out to plead their own cases or others’, we thank you. For anyone who hasn’t yet gotten a turn, please be patient, we will resume first thing in the morning.”

Aegis watched ponies file out of the room, and then sighed. There had been a few minor infractions and one major problem which had seen them escort a stallion who appeared quite mad out of the castle, but overall court had been uneventful. As a result he had probably seen more of the inside of his own head than he would have preferred.

“Miss Scrolls,” he said by way of acknowledgement when he arrived back at the bottom of the dais. The recently promoted mare was doing an admirable job as far as he was concerned. She perhaps almost reached the level of Celestia herself when it came to knowledge about the various subjects that were brought up in court, though she lacked the political savvy and had a certain brusqueness about her in her many dealings. None could have done as well as she had, but she looked haggard and as worn out as Aegis felt.

“Aegis,” she replied absently, going through her many stacks of papers that she seemed to carry everywhere these days. It took a few moments before she truly looked at him. When she did so, she opened her mouth in an unasked question but in the end shook her head and said: “You said you had orders from the Princess? You had best get back to them.”

Blinking stupidly, Aegis searched his memory for any orders he might have received. They came to him shortly, the one about finding Twilight and relaying Rook’s promotion to him. It was perhaps a minor oversight on his part, but the simple fact that he had forgotten in the first place worried him greatly.

He pushed the thought aside, telling himself that it was just the lack of sleep and with a barely audible ‘thanks’ set off in search of his companion guard.

“Rook. You’re acting Captain of the Guard, effective as of yesterday.” Aegis began matter-of-factly.

It had taken him the better part of an hour making his way through the castle while dodging nobles to even find Rook. The burly guard was walking in the opposite direction. Oddly the nobles parted for him like ferns, not one bothering him with the question Aegis had been answering the day before.

The reason became clear once Aegis got closer. Rook’s expression was a mixture of exhaustion and barely checked anger, a proverbial thundercloud following in his footsteps. Not as easily cowed as the nobles, Aegis walked beside him for a time, trying both to ensure himself that everything was alright, as well as await an answer.

Rook simply walked on without saying a word.

Aegis knew him to be economical with his words at the best of times. Rook was often terse and sometimes brusque, but never before had he declined to answer. At least, not when Aegis was the one making conversation. With two quick hops and one jump to the side he put himself in Rook’s path, and stopped his longtime colleague and friend with a hoof. “You okay?”

Rook face distorted into a sneer which was quickly suppressed, and Rook made an effort to present his normal stoic facade. “I’m fine. Message received.” A brief silence passed between them before Rook opened his mouth again. “If she gave the order yesterday, why am I only hearing about it now?”

Aegis scratched the back of his neck, looking past Rook at the gaggle of remaining ponies. Most were moving on, likely having somewhere better to be, but there were a few supposedly ‘noble’ ponies that seemed to have nothing better to do than hang around gossiping; though why they’d do that in this particular hallway was a mystery to him. Or perhaps they were hoping for more things to gossip about.

A stinging behind his eyes again reminded him of how tired he was.

He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to match: “I got held up. Nosey nobles wanting to know how the Princess was doing. Talking recruit down from self-induced panic. Paperwork. More than I ever thought possible because apparently this entire place stops working if the Princess doesn’t do at least something; and she apparently never took the time to delegate any of it. Not to mention standing guard in court with Miss Scrolls who looks about ready to drop dead herself.”

“And that’s important enough to ignore the Princess’ orders for a day? You could have sent somepony to relay the message.”

“That... hadn’t occurred to me,” Aegis said after trying and failing to come up with a satisfying retort. “Sorry, I’ve not been feeling a hundred percent lately.”

Rook grunted. “Me neither. You feeling hungrier?”

“More tired than hungry.”

They set off again, leaving the more crowded halls of the castle behind. It was three corridors down towards Celestia’s bedroom before Aegis remembered that Celestia had asked one other thing of him. “The Princess also asked me to bring Twilight to her.”

Another noncommittal grunt from Rook.

“I thought she was with you,” Aegis continued, feeling a little miffed himself at having to deal with Rook’s out of sorts temper on top of everything else. “Where is she?”

“I left her with Mead. Said he’d take care of her. He’s welcome to the little pest.” Rook gave a one shouldered shrug. “She’s the last thing the Princess needs right now.”

“And you’re deciding for the Princess now, are you?” Aegis asked, his hackles rising at the notion of disobeying a direct order.

“Our job is to protect the Princess and right now she needs to be protected from herself.”

“She asked me to—”

“Which is as good as a command, is it?” Rook interrupted, stepping up to him. “Ever since that filly arrived things have been changing. Quickly. Too quickly for my liking. And every time she’s involved, the Princess has gotten hurt in some way.”

“She of all ponies knows what she’s doing. If she wants to see Twilight then it’s my— our job to—” Aegis turned away, half-formed plans to go and find the young filly already assembling in his mind.

"You know she can be wrong.” Rook called after him. “She’s not thinking clearly. Especially when it concerns that filly. It’s not happening. Now, as your commanding officer, I order you to stand down and go back to guarding the Princess as is your duty.”

Aegis stopped. Bristling. He turned back. “You know the Princess only made you acting captain because we’re in this mess. You don’t get to pull rank on me.”

The silence that followed lasted too long to be called ‘comfortable’. When Rook spoke next, it was little more than a low growl. “I don’t have to. Standing Orders take precedence, and you know it. And being in the middle of this mess is exactly when we all need to follow orders. Now, follow yours, or I’ll make an example of you.”

“An example—?” Aegis puffed himself up and getting in Rook’s face. “Screw you, Rook. It’s your job as much as it is mine to do what the Princess asks of us to the best of our abilities. We’re not just guards, you and I. We are the ponies she trusts most and we have an obligation to help make sure that everything’s still standing when she recovers. Besides...” He smiled a cocksure smile. “We both know you couldn’t make an example out of me if you wanted to.”

It wasn’t a bluff, or even really a threat. While Rook most definitely beat every other guard when it came to pure stamina, Aegis was simply the more skilled in close quarters combat and they both knew it. That didn’t stop Rook from throwing a punch in his direction though.

The punch was fast, but Aegis was faster; adrenaline burning away the exhaustion he had carried with him throughout the day. He ducked under his opponent’s hoof and retaliated with a headbutt to the chest. It might have done more damage to his head than it did to Rook who, like all guards, wore a protective chest plate, while Aegis had neglected to wear his helmet. It did knock Rook back a ways, however, which helped him gain some distance and get into a proper combat stance.

They started circling one another, trading feints while looking for an opening in the other’s defenses. Aegis spun around and kicked at Rook with his hind legs. There was a strange sort of satisfaction when he felt the blow connect, followed by worry when he heard Rook grunt of exertion. Not because he’d hurt his friend with the blow, but rather because Rook had received it rather than dodging out of the way. He worried that Rook might be planning something, so when he saw something move in the periphery of his vision, he didn’t think. He simply reacted.

He spun and again struck with his hind legs, immediately recoiling in pain. He would have sworn he had tried to knock down one of the castle walls were he not a hundred percent convinced that he and Rook had been in the middle of the hallway. Biting back his pain with a grimace, he turned around and came face to face with an irate Princess who seemed just as immovable, sleek pink hair and all.

“That’s quite enough.” The Princess said coolly. She straightened and turned around on the spot. “Both of you follow me.”

“Princess, I’m—”

A white wing extended in front of him. “I gave you an order, Aegis.”

Both Aegis and Rook fell in line immediately. Their previous animosity extinguished like a candle in a storm. It was almost as if everything had gone back to the way it was supposed to be.

Almost.

The three made the trek back to Celestia’s bedroom in silence, the only exchange being a pair of glances between Rook and Aegis. The sudden appearance of the Princess had been like a breath of fresh air for the both of them, and neither of them could really explain why they had fought. Though they both knew they would likely be forced to try in the near future.

“Come in.” Celestia’s voice was soft when they arrived at the door that lead to her sanctuary, like all of the anger had drained from her as well. The two of them followed behind her and stood at attention after thirty paces. Celestia sat down on a pillow near the center of the room and fixed them with a piercing look that seemed to go straight through to the deepest reaches of their soul. “You two fought,” she said as though their little tussle was common knowledge espoused by newspapers and town criers everywhere.

“Yes, Princess.” Rook stepped forward before Aegis got the chance to reply. He hung his head low and might have prostrated himself fully had Celestia not put a stop to it with a gesture of her wing. “My deepest apologies, Princess. I am not myself today. Not only did I get into a fight with Aegis, I slept for almost half the day and was remiss in my duties during that time; on top of which I failed to properly supervise Twilight even before that. Please punish me as you see fit.”

“Safe to say you feel much the same, Aegis?” Celestia asked with a sigh.

Aegis quickly nodded. “Not the oversleeping part, but... Yes, Princess.”

“I was afraid of that.” Celestia replied, looking for the first time in a while, like the weight of the world was catching up with her. “This is my fault, after a fashion,” she said after a long pause. “I should have addressed this before it became a problem. My apologies to you both.”

Aegis’ heart climbed to the back of his throat and threatened to jump out. Something he could only avoid by swallowing it back down, though it still hammered like someone had turned it into a drum. Did the Princess know about his feelings? Was she sorry because she was going to dismiss him? Or even both of them? Was one fight really all it took? “P-princess,” he began, stammering and tripping over his words. “I’m truly, truly, sorry for my... for my conduct. I promise I’ll...”

He shut himself up when Celestia raised an eyebrow. She looked away from the pair for the first time and absently licked her lips. “Aegis,” she began “And you too, Rook. Both of you have been outstanding. More so than I would have dared hope when I selected you, and especially in these past few weeks.”

“Princess...” Aegis felt it, and even Rook seemed to be taken aback by Celestia’s praise. It didn’t feel right, especially after what had just happened.

“I should have explained all of this when I chose the two of you, but I was too preoccupied with the passing of your predecessors to give that notion the due thought it required.” Celestia went on, ignoring him. “I’m sure both of you are aware that you two are not like other ponies?”

They nodded in unison. “Hard not to be, Princess. The comparisons to Steel Heart and Bastion are frequent enough as to have become bothersome.” Rook said with a snort that almost resembled a laugh.

Aegis, not to be outdone by his compatriot, added: “The leading theory is specially enchanted armor. That ours is somehow superior to the armor of the other guards. The few that disagree speculate that you take the power from every pony that has ever been your personal guard and pass it on to the next one to earn the position. Then there are the crackpots who talk about dark magicks stolen from ancient gods and eldritch horrors which require virgin sacrifices and the like.”

There was a glimmer of interest in Celestia’s eyes as she said: “Now that would be something indeed. What do the two of you believe?”

Aegis scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what to believe, Princess. After almost twenty years of being a guard, I fear I know less now than I did when I started.” He paused for a moment. “Or perhaps more accurately, I know that there’s a lot I don’t know. But if I had to guess, I would think that you enchanted not the armor as there is no change when I take it off, but us instead?” His uncertainty shone through and he smiled apologetically.

“Rook?”

“I agree with Aegis on this, Your Majesty. All else I’ve heard around the barracks seems way too complicated to actually be viable. Though I don’t recall any intricate enchantment taking place when we swore our oath after...” He petered out and shrugged. “A stab in the dark.”

Celestia smiled, somewhat coldly. “You are not far from the truth,” she replied gravely. “I did bestow power on Steel Heart and Bastion, as I did you two.”

“Princess, permission to speak freely?” Rook asked after a few seconds of silence.

The room fell silent for what felt like an age while Celestia regarded him thoughtfully. “Granted.”

“While I understand that this might be... pleasant for your state of mind... don’t we have more important matters to be worried about? According to what Aegis said, Miss Scrolls is about ready to throw in the towel. Yesterday there were nobles calling for the Duchess’ head; ponies in the streets are worried the dragons will return at any moment. And I half believe Twilight Sparkle might level the entire city to the ground before any of that if she isn't reined in.” He paused for breath and quickly licked his lips to wet them. “We need you back in charge as quickly as possible, Princess, and for that you need to rest. The country might simply collapse if you do not return forthwith.”

Celestia shook her head. “I understand what you are saying, and while I agree that those things are important. This is moreso.”

“But, Princess—” Rook didn’t seem to want to give up easily.

“What of the ponies that have seen the two of you fight?” Celestia interrupted him. “What do you think they’ll say?” She punctuated her sentence with a rather uncharacteristic agitated flap of her wings. “What if either of you lost your temper and hit somepony that doesn’t have the training or power to withstand it? Just this...” she made a gesture with her hoof “Is going to spawn rumors. How even the Princess’ guards are at each other's throats because things are so dire.”

Aegis felt the shame up to his ears. He hadn’t thought about what fighting might mean in the long term. He hadn’t thought much of anything at all at the time. But before he could say anything Celestia had already moved on.

“Regardless. Right now, this is most important. Not just for the country, but yourselves as well.” Again she fell silent, looking at the two of them for a time. There was something in her expression, her eyes, that neither of them could grasp.

At last, she spoke again. “Have either of you considered how long you would want to be a guard for?” The question came out of the blue, but both guards replied in an instant.

“My life is yours, Princess.”

“As long as I live, Princess.”

Celestia, however, looked less than thrilled by the answer. She sighed sadly and shook her head. “Neither of you understand what you are saying. How could you? Barely forty cycles...” She got up with a start. “Would your answer be the same if you were to live for two hundred years? Three hundred? Four? A millennium?” She asked, agitation increasing in pace with the rising numbers. She moved suddenly. Walking over to the balcony doors; throwing them open with enough force to shatter the glass in them and stepping outside, leaving the two flabbergasted stallions behind.

With a passing glance at his comrade, Aegis followed the Princess outside. Going by the clopping of hooves on marble, Rook wasn’t far behind. They stopped next to each other much like how they’d stood indoors, a synchronicity born out of familiarity and training.

Aegis tried to piece together what the Princess had said in his head but couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.

The Princess was seated near the railing, looking up at the evening sky when they stepped onto the balcony. The silence again dragged on until Rook finally cleared his throat audibly. “Ahem... Princess?”

“Forgive me, it is painful for me to recall the last time I had this conversation.” the Princess said in a hoarse voice that disappeared once she cleared her throat in turn. “Two decades late, and still it feels like it’s too soon.” She turned around and looked back at them. “The point I was trying to make... and tormenting myself with, is that Steel Heart and Bastion were almost three hundred years old when they died. The point is that both of you could potentially live longer than they did.”

Rook and Aegis reacted according to expectations: bewildered and confused. And why wouldn’t they be? Most ponies got to be anywhere between a hundred and a hundred and twenty, with most of them retiring around ninety. For guards, ninety was already past the point of old. Most guards usually retired around seventy-five years of age when their strength began to fail them, though some extraordinary ones made it a smidge past eighty. Three hundred was so far outside of the realm of ponies' expectations that it must have sounded like pure fantasy.

Aegis wordlessly worked his jaw before finally asking: “But, Princess, how would that even work?”

“You are both aware of the trinary domains that govern pony magical abilities, yes?” Celestia stated more than asked. She knew they knew. What was important was framing their reference point for what came next.

“Magical forces corresponding to a tribe each. Yes, Princess,” Aegis answered for the pair, confused as to why the Princess was asking them about things every foal learned in school.

“A full explanation would take far too long, but in a nutshell: Vitality, virility, and life expectancy, as well as physical strength and resilience fall under the earth pony domain. There was an arduous and complicated ritual I performed in times immemorial which created a bond between me and they whom I choose as my protectors. It’s a little more complicated than that, obviously, but it means that I transfer a miniscule amount of my magical reserves to the two of you to boost that particular domain, with a boost to everything that entails as a consequence. It’s also why you didn’t see any ‘intricate enchantments’ as you put it.”

“So the reason we’re...” Rook made a helpless gesture with a hoof. “Tired and hungry... hungrier than normal, is because... your magic is depleted?”

Celestia shook her head slowly. “Yes and no. I have sufficiently recovered that the flow of magic should have resumed. However, the... unique circumstances of the last couple of weeks with my condition as it was might have caused the connection to be interrupted intermittently, and in turn damaged it.”

“Why us?” Aegis asked, switching tracks completely. “I know for a fact that there were better candidates around back when you chose us.”

Celestia showed them a hint of a smile. “No there weren’t.” She replied after waving to the passing flock of Pegasi guards. “Stronger ones, perhaps. Arguably more capable ones, though I’m not so sure about that; but even if there were I’d made my choice long before then.”

“You did?” Rook seemed to be losing the struggle against his disbelief, shaking his head. “That can’t be. Princess, you spent the entire day watching all of us go through trial after trial, after trial. It took you more than an hour when we lined up at the end before you chose us. How and when you could possibly have—?”

Celestia waved the question away with a hoof. “Months before? Years? I don’t quite remember. I was mourning your predecessors at the time, if you’ll recall. Yes, I made you two and all of your peers go through such trials even though I needn’t have. I’m sorry to say I wasn’t entirely in the right state of mind at the time.” She sighed and smiled the most genuine smile either of them had seen from her all day. “You haven’t yet given me cause to regret my decision.”

She then turned away from them and looked out over the landscape once more. “You both have a choice to make. One I should have put before you twenty years ago. As it stands, you two will already live far longer than most. To around two-hundred years old at least. Maybe three. If you choose to continue serving as my guards, that number could theoretically keep growing indefinitely. Should you so choose, however, I can also remove the enchantment from you right now, though that will also mean giving up your position. Regardless of your choice, I would ask that neither of you speak of this to anypony else.”

“This changes nothing, Princess,” Aegis said confidently. “I swore to protect you and I will do that for as long as I am able.”

Celestia turned around just in time to see Rook nodding beside his companion. “My life is yours, Princess.” The stoic stallion murmured, repeating his vow from earlier. She sighed in relief from stress she hadn’t known she was suffering under.

She nodded back at the both of them. “Then... I am grateful for your dedication, my friends.” Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she showed them the most beatific smile she could muster. “Please follow me.” She made her way back inside and the two dutifully followed along, stopping only briefly when Celestia made straight for the bathroom.

Aegis, try though he might, could not keep his eyes off of the tail of his sovereign. It dragged along the ground behind her like a soft, pink, waterfall. Its consistency alone was enough to make him think, but his eyes kept wandering up to where her tail ended and her behind began. Right up to the moment that he noticed a few strands of more sunrise-colored hair that stood out from the rest of it. They softly waved back and forth on an unseen solar wind and looked to Aegis as though it was a wagging finger, admonishing him for his actions. They were not appropriate for a guard. He knew as much, but it still took that little extra push for him to avert his eyes. He looked to his side to see if Rook had noticed any of it, but his companion had his usual stone faced thousand-yard-stare.

Stepping into the bathroom, Celestia made a beeline for a small runed cabinet that Aegis had never seen before. Not that he had seen anything in the Princess’ bathroom before, but the coarse wood of the cabinet felt out of place with the marble and gold that made up the rest of it. She took out several small stones, a crystal, and even some herbs, and then stepped into the bath. Moving forward, she tossed something into the bath every few steps, after which she suddenly vanished into the deep end with a splash. Half in a daze, Aegis was convinced he—they were supposed to follow her and swim to some secret room or some such thing, but before long she resurfaced.

It was like a scene from one of Aegis’ dreams. The ones he didn’t share with Rook. He already considered Celestia to be the most beautiful mare in existence, but right at this moment she looked absolutely divine. He was reminded of the swan comparison he had heard some nobles gossip about. He had thought them rude and idiotic then, but now, witnessing the curve of her neck and the soft feathers on her wings as she broke the water’s surface he felt like they were on to something. Another look to his side revealed that even Rook had moments where he couldn’t help but gawk. That, perhaps more than anything, made Aegis laugh.

It was also where the dream ended and reality reasserted itself. It started with Celestia cursing softly and awkwardly pushing the limp hair that had obscured her face to the side and behind her ears. “Please, both of you, join me,” she said mere moments thereafter, making Aegis unsure if it might not be some weird variation on his dreams.

“I have to refuse, Princess,” Rook replied next to him. “If anypony were to come in...”

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Aegis shot his companion a look of unadulterated fury. Proper or not, Celestia’s invitation truly was like a dream come true. She preempted him doing anything, however, by laughing softly and rolling her eyes.

“Wherever your head is at, Rook, I believe it needs a good scrubbing.” She raised one of her hooves out of the water, holding a few strands of pinkish hair. “With the right combination of salts, herbs and an enchanted crystal, the water will act as a catalyst and guide both. It’ll help me locate and inspect the ley-lines in your bodies, which should hopefully lead me to the damaged ones without too much effort on my part. Were I not injured I wouldn’t need to ask, but this sort of delicate operation in particular requires much of me.” Tapping a hoof against her chin, she added: “Because my magic is weakened in the way that it is, I will instead be using the magic in your bodies, guiding and coaxing it to flow to and heal the breakages. It will tire you out completely, but that, too, is crucial.”

“Besides...” she continued with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve been told, rather recently at that, that bathing together is one of the ‘funnest’ things one can do.”

Aegis felt torn, but not for the same reasons Rook apparently was. On the one hoof, he could barely follow the magical terms the Princess was using, making him feel like she was a wizened arch-mage that definitely knew what she was talking about. On the other, the way her mane fell over her face, framing her remaining fuchsia eye such that it took his breath away; and the soft giggle he was sure he heard her make... Her playful demeanour was unlike anything he’d ever seen from the creature he knew as Celestia. Part of him wondered if she wasn’t instead a devilish seductress, set on beguiling the two of them.

He wasn’t sure he really cared. What his father had always said was true, a beautiful mare could make any motion seem beguiling; and he was thoroughly beguiled.

Under Her Wings

by Karrakaz

The Start of Something New.

The Next Best Thing.

Not Quite an Average Morning

The Importance of Housekeeping

Small Problems

Heavy Burdens

Tell Me Your Secrets

Clarity

A Brief Respite

Tugging at the Web

Hitting The Fan

Anticipation

The Duel

Titles and Tribulations

On Edge

Bonding