> Wayward Sun
>  by Rune Soldier Dan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: A Life at Dawn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Love, as all things do, starts with something small.

A rumor, in this case. A gaggle of court ladies, tittering and gossiping with each other. All cheerful, but none more so than Celestia and Luna. The ruling sisters were a century old, yet remained adolescents in form and spirit. They giggled and chattered as well, spreading gossip both cruel and kind.

There was no shortage of things to talk about. Equestria was much like its rulers: young, curious, and wholly untamed. A land of lone knights and explorers, with great deeds still before them. The map in their forest palace had its edges unfilled, and none were content to leave it so.

At the very least, one line had been drawn on it. The ladies’ conversation turned to the neighbors they found: the Crystal Empire, to the North. Its old queen had passed away, leaving her son to take the reins. The coming palace ball would be his first debut as king.

There were rumors about this new king. He was more a scientist than a statesman. He hated politics and loved magic experiments. The new king had a grumpy demeanor, so intense he was said to have never smiled.

Still, none of the rumors spoke ill of his character. None were even scandalous, so the gossipers soon lost interest.

Except for Celestia. She grew silent as the conversation moved, for once letting Luna lead the pack.

Her pink hair wavered, but almost blew straight down as she wondered. He never smiles?

Good nature and young impishness allied in her mind, and she grinned. That sounds like a challenge.









At the ball, they danced. The young king seemed so much older than she, with his stern, frowning demeanor. He was grey, save for his black mane and red eyes – a stark contrast to Celestia’s white and pink.

The rumor – the thread that brought them together – was not exaggerated. The king was brilliant, but blunt and rude. He was even so with Celestia, which… surprised her. Even the griffons spoke cautiously to the Great Sun Princess.

“Well,” he had grumbled as she approached. “If it isn’t the little queen. What do you want?”

But if that threw her off balance, it was nothing compared to the effect of her response: a curtsy, a brazen kiss on the cheek, and, “May I have this dance, King Sombra?”

After his rude greeting, it was clearly the last thing he expected from Celestia. The young king nearly choked on his wine, and then nearly spit it out before forcing it down. His frown turned to an unimpressed glower as he met her eyes, and noticed her unmistakable smirk.

Gotcha.

Apparently, Sombra was a pony who didn’t accept defeat. He arched his head regally and accepted, escorting her to the dance floor without a second look.

They talked as they danced, and they were nothing alike. Sombra was mature and impersonal, while Celestia was childish and bubbly. She was no more interested in his experiments than he was in her adventures with Luna. 

Celestia was surprised when he asked for a second dance.

And she was floored when he said it with a smile. A nervous, blushing little grin that told his attraction more than anything else.

That smile. So rare, and all the more precious for it.

It is when Celestia fell in love with him.
> Chapter 1: Childhood's End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

-Proverb, attributed to St. Bernard of Clairvaux





The tent flap opened, revealing a deep-purple crystal pony. He shivered and strode inside, pausing vainly a moment to brush snow off his armor. It was piled a foot deep outside, and the blizzard wasn’t letting up. In June! At this rate the Crystal Empire…

He shook his head. It won’t matter in a few days.

The tent was spacious, but Spartan: fitting of the martial nobility. A squat table without chairs sat in the middle, with maps and scrolls scattered across it. On one side, a slave was polishing a silver blade, neck hunched nervously over her work.

Such was a stark contrast to the figure in the back. The mare’s crystal coat was a brilliant white-blue, now mostly hidden by black armor. A slave stood to either side, fitting the heavy plates around her flanks. The helmet was off, showing her ragged white hair and green eyes. 

Those eyes. Piercing and strong. He had thought her beautiful when they first met, though his love had long since faded. He knew her too well, now.

The mare stretched a foreleg out, allowing a slave to begin fitting her knee guards. Her eyes were on the newcomer, frown marking her face.

“Quartz.” Her flinty voice couldn’t mask her exhaustion. “I hope you have good news for me.”

It was ‘Baron’ Quartz, but she was the Lord Marshal. She could call him whatever she damn well pleased. She was the stronger, and that’s all you needed in this army.

“Lord Diamond,” he bowed low, touching his head to the canvas floor. “I do not. I bring very bad news.”

“Oh, get up,” Diamond sniffed. She gave a hard sigh, glaring away. “We just lost Borealis Fortress. That is bad news. Neither princess was there, and the damn Celestians still beat us.”

“The who?” Quartz cocked his head. “A new enemy?”

“No, no.” Diamond waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s what the slaves call them. ‘Celestians,’ after their Sun Princess. The… ‘Great and Righteous Equestrian army, come to liberate the slaves from their evil God.’”

“…Isn’t that right, girls?” A  smirk crossed her face and she glanced between the two slaves. They avoided eye contact and kept working, quailing under the attention.

The joke over, her frosty expression resumed. “So now the Equestrian army is a day’s march from the capital and we’re all that’s in their way. Think your bad news measures up?”

“It measures and exceeds, Lord Diamond.”

Quartz took a deep breath and said the words with the exhale. No sense in stalling. “Sombra is dead.”

A grimace of real fear came to Diamond’s face. Fear and… something else. The maneuvering between Sombra and the Princesses had lasted the breadth of the war. Each feared weakening themselves against the mortals, lest their foe choose then to strike. Without Sombra, the last card of the faltering Crystal Empire was gone.

It was more than that, too. That ‘something else.’ Sombra was their god. They said his name when they prayed, they built glittering temples to his glory. He forced them to it, but a lot of crystal ponies had really started to believe.

“H-how?” A snarl came to her face. “When?!”

Quartz swallowed hard, shaking his head. “A week ago. I was in the North Wastes, seeking the Wendigo lairs. I planned to barter slaves for aid.”

“What in Hell’s Teeth was he doing up there?” Diamond snapped.

The baron shook his head again. “I think they chased him there, but I don’t know. One night, the air above ignited with arcane fires. I dove for the snow, but the explosions bounced me across the ground. I could see all three: Luna, Celestia, and Sombra, hurling their magic at each other. He was stronger than either, but they fought in unison. Whenever he struck at one, the other struck back. He tried to turn away, but they hounded him. First driving him north, then pursuing him south until he fell just inside our borders.”

Quartz shivered. It was over. His wealth, his slaves, his status… his nation. The victors would leave none of it to him.

“They kept hurling magic at the ground where he lay,” he continued shakily. “Great white and orange blasts from Celestia, deep blue flecked with stars from Luna. And with each blow, a gout of black and purple smoke puffed out from his form. They were great at first, but blow after blow passed and the smoke lessened and lessened until nothing else came.”

“Did you find a body?” Diamond asked sharply, clinging to a last thread of hope.

Quartz nodded unhappily. “I did. Blackened stone all around, and an unnatural chill in the air. His lordship lay there, body as it was before his ascension. His horn was returned to grey, and his eyes without their dark fire. He was dead, and whatever power he had was gone. I could not bear him back myself, so I buried him there and built a small cairn. Then I sped here as quick as I could, for you…”

He matched her gaze for the first time, his eyebrows raised. “With him gone, you rule now.”

Marshaling his pride, he stood up straight and bowed again, this time with great formality. “Long live the Queen.”

She shook her head, hesitation creeping into her voice. “None of that.”

Quartz shrugged. Old habits die hard. 

Although the only thing left is to surrender. He saw it, plain as day. Even if they could hold back the Equestrian army – and they couldn’t – what of the alicorns? If their power was half as great as he heard, Sombra had been the only hope. Without him, that was it. This was the End. Diamond had to realize it, too.

Her face hardened into a grim frown. Diamond stepped curtly past her slaves and towards the table. “So be it. We throw everything in, and hold them south of the capital. Wait for the cold to drive them back.”

Quartz gave a start. “Wait, what? What about the alicorns?! My Queen, we don’t have a–”

“I said none of that!” Diamond slammed a hoof down on her table. The maps jumped at the impact, and Quartz fell silent.

The Lord Marshal curled the hoof and lifted her helmet from the table – black metal, with a crystal horn growing from its front.

There was a queer gleam in her eye as she set it on her head. “Sombra is king. Sombra lives.”

“But–”

“You said it was a week ago?” The hesitation was gone from her voice, replaced by fanatic certainty. “That’s when the freak weather began. Don’t you see? He caused it. He didn’t die, he ascended even higher. He blessed us with this snow to drive back our enemies.”

“‘Blessed?’” Quartz gestured wildly with his hoof, half-grinning at the insane logic. “Our fields have all frozen over. Hunger will kill us, if not the Equestrians!”

“It’s all part of his plan,” she returned. “You’ll see.”

That hashed it. Quartz’s long-dormant courage emerged in a frustrated shout. “Oh, stop it! Sombra isn’t a god!”

He matched eyes with her, half-daring her to kill him. So be it. He’d die now, or die in their fast-coming defeat.

But she didn’t look shocked, or even angry. Her words were a cool statement of fact. “You don’t believe.”

“No,” Quartz sighed as he looked away. “I never did. The Sombra I recall was iron-hoofed, but practical and fair. Then he emerges from an experiment, red-horned, proclaiming himself a god and ranting about world domination. Possessed, or even just changed in some way? Sure. But a god? No. He killed everyone who said otherwise, but that doesn’t make it true.”

A soft glow caught his eye. He looked back to Diamond and saw her retrieving her sword from one of the slave girls. The crystal horn on her helmet pulsed, and a purple glow levitated the blade upwards.

He tensed, but Diamond slung it easily into a scabbard at her side. She turned back to him, smiling thinly at his guarded posture. “You always were a thinker, Quartz. Too smart for your own good.”

The smile grew a little warmer. Enough to remind him of happier times.

Diamond’s voice warmed as well. “But that’s alright. Right now, I don’t care. I need soldiers. Think of me as your queen if you must, but I call myself your Lord Marshal, beneath King Sombra. Will you still follow me?”

“I will,” he said, standing up straighter. “I think we’re doomed, but I will. I still have my honor.”

“Alright, then.” She beckoned him closer, gesturing to the map. “Oh, before we go on: have you told anyone else?”

“No,” Quartz said, obediently stepping forwards.

“Good.”

The horn pulsed again, and the blade whipped from its sheath. With a single, sweeping movement, it leapt upwards and came down on Quartz’s neck. His crystal skin cracked under the blow, and the soft flesh beneath gave way.

He gave a gagged cry and fell to the floor, blood flooding down his neck.

The sword rose again, and the next blow severed the head. She didn’t want him to suffer.

“I’m sorry,” Diamond offered, cool as ever. She bowed slightly with her head, trying not to think of how long she’d known him. “I need secrets even more than I need soldiers.”

She strode to the edge of the tent and pulled the flap open. Only a final glance was given behind her, aimed at the slaves. “Clean this up by the time I get back.”

They mutely moved to obey. Satisfied, Diamond strode out into the blizzard.









Celestia landed, and the Equestrian camp rippled as ponies bowed. Word had spread like wildfire of her triumph over Sombra. She had brought them to this. Victory was near. The spires of the Crystal Capital were in sight.

Or they would be, if not for the blizzard.

Luna dashed up to her and the two embraced, gently interlocking their necks. Trudging behind through the deepening snow was their general, Caesar. The grey earth pony was resplendent in his golden armor, sigil of the sun emblazoned on his chest plate. No helmet marked his head. He worked best when exposed – lion-hearted and tough, always leading by example.

He was growling and muttering, just waiting for the opening Celestia gave.

“Did our envoy return?”

“She did,” Luna said, interrupting his retort.

Celestia nodded. “What news? Will they surrender?”

This time Caesar got in the words, shouting over Luna’s more measured response. “They sent her back to us, all right. With a separate box for her head!”

“…Sorry,” he offered belatedly, giving a short bow to Luna.

The night princess frowned tightly, but nodded back. “Apology accepted. It is… discomfiting. Nonetheless because it means another battle.”

Caesar took a step past her, squaring himself before Celestia. “Let the army go in, Princess. The Empire wants a last stand, the Celestians will give it to them!”

“Are you mad?” Luna stepped forward as well, using her height to loom over him. “If you can even find them in this storm, you’ll give them exactly what they want: a last bloodbath. No, Tia and I will strike. With Sombra gone, we need hold nothing back.”

“You two have never fought an army by yourselves before,” Caesar shot back, glaring defiantly at his younger liege. He was lion-hearted… and too headstrong for his own good. 

But he wasn’t wrong.

Luna sniffed, looking down her nose at him. “Be that as it may, we’ll be at far less risk than you will. I will not see more ponies buried to appease your pride.”

“Ma’am–” Caesar began.

Luna huffed, temper rising. “‘Princess,’ if you please.”

“Sorry. That’s just my earth pony talk.” He gave a quick chuckle. “Listen, we can’t risk you. And with Sombra out of the picture, there’s no reason why you two should–”

The words from Celestia were very soft, very gentle. “Both of you.”

At once, the argument ceased and they turned to her. She glanced back and forth between the two.

Her jaw shifted slightly, and she spoke again. There was uncharacteristic hesitation in her voice: a slight tremble, betraying nervous thoughts. A notion she had toyed with for a while and still wasn’t quite sure of.

“I’ll strike alone.”

“That’s twice as bad,” Caesar grumbled, but the words went unheard. This time it was Luna doing the shouting, and he beat a subtle retreat.

“What? Tia!”

“Luna, please don’t argue with me.” Celestia shook her head, looking anywhere but back at her.

“I’d be a bad sister if I didn’t,” Luna retorted.

“Can’t you just trust me?”

“Tia, I know you.” Luna reached a hoof up and tapped Celestia’s shoulder. “You’re nervous. You don’t trust you. So why should I?”

“Because this is something I should do by myself.” Celestia turned her head away. “I’ll try to cow them. If they won’t be cowed… I might have to kill some. I don’t want you to do that.”

“We’ve both killed before,” Luna noted dryly. “Recently. ‘War,’ and all that.”

A breathless, nervous smile came to Celestia’s face. “And, as your big sister, I want you to do as little killing as possible.”

“By doing it all yourself?”

“Luna, this is going to be the end.” Celestia raised her hoof pleadingly, hoping to bring the talk to a close. “One more fight, and then no more. No armies, no wars, just peace from here forwards. So please, let me do this for you. Let me be a good big sister and shield you from this.”

The night princess frowned. She tapped her hoof once, then again before responding. “You can’t order me around.”

The response was utterly without temper, and given with a weak smile. “But I can ask nicely.”

“Fine.” Luna glanced away, then back. A small, sympathetic smile came to her face. “Just please, tell me this isn’t because you feel guilty about Sombra. We did what we had to.”

Celestia nodded, and the two embraced again. “He died years ago. That monster we slew wasn’t my Sombra.”

She kissed Luna on the forehead. “No, this isn’t about Sombra. This is about you. You and me.”

Luna sighed, accepting the affection. “Then take care. I’ll be… here, I suppose. With Caesar the Minotaur.”

They shared a giggle. And Celestia was off.









The blizzard was impenetrable to pegasi, but didn’t even slow Celestia down.

The crystal ponies knew she was coming. She wanted them to, and so engulfed herself in a fiery halo. A tiny sun, streaking through the snowstorm to where they were encamped. She wanted them to dread her coming. To have long minutes to worry and wonder.

There was a cold stone in her stomach. A last thing she hadn’t told Luna.

The two had killed, this was true. They had fought in battles.

This wasn’t going to be a battle. It was going to be a massacre.

Unless the Imperials gave up. If she made herself scary enough, no pony had to die.

She could see them now. Murky and indistinct in the snowstorm, but with red banners held high. A blotch of ponies in black armor, thousands strong. Shoulder to shoulder, lances and spears at the ready.

A muffled roaring grew as she closed the distance. The snow melted around her corona, turning to a rainfall that muted the noise. Only when scarcely fifty meters away could she make out the words.

“Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!”

She allowed herself to glow even brighter, floating before the army in all her majesty. The shape of an alicorn, all but invisible in the white brightness around her. They could feel her power. The impossible heat she controlled, ready to be unleashed.

“Crystal ponies!” Celestia announced, her voice amplified a hundred-fold. “Sombra is dead. Yield your arms, and I promise you mercy!”

The chant continued. A few crossbow bolts whizzed through the air, none of them coming close.

A small part of her was miffed; the pampered alicorn was not used to being shouted down. Mostly, though, she was confused. Sombra was dead. Who did they chant for? A new king? Or still for Sombra? She knew he forced a religion on them, but had doubted it took root.

Fine. She’d show them some real power. Hopefully it would be enough.

She shook her head. Of course it would be. They’d be mad to press it further.

Celestia tipped downwards and accelerated. She buzzed over their heads, finally seeing the faces in the crowd. Some fearful, some stern, some downright gleeful in their defiance. All roaring the same words up at her.

“Long live King Sombra!”

The ones directly beneath Celestia winced as she passed overhead, leaving them scorched, but otherwise unharmed. The snow melted at their hooves, though quickly refroze as she passed. She winged towards their rear, and then back to the front.

Once more before them, she willed her aura to double in size and glow even hotter. Still just a fraction of her might. She wanted them to see. She had the power here, not Sombra. They had no choice but to yield.

Yet no sooner had she paused then another volley of bolts flew towards her. Some would have struck home but for the burning aura. And still the chant went on. 

“Long live the King!”

Celestia gazed down at the crowd, mind racing. Idiocy. Madness. These poor fools really believe in him.

It’s not their fault. They’re just led astray. I can’t kill them, it’s not their fault.

She bit down on a lip and glanced behind her. She could leave. She could spare them.

No, that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t fix anything. Celestia wouldn’t kill them, but what then? The army would have to do it, and take losses. Or she would return with Luna, and they’d both have to do it anyway.

A deep breath in, and a sigh out. Celestia glared down at the throng.

No. No more slain Equestrians. No forcing Luna to help in this… murder.

It was for these fools’ sake, too. She’d strike for their leaders. They had to be forcing the rest, threatening violence if they stopped the chant. Maybe their lords would surrender when they knew she wasn’t bluffing. Maybe she’d have to kill them, and then the rest would yield. Either way, it would cause the fewest deaths.

Satisfied in her plan, Celestia winged downwards once more. She flew slower this time, searching their ranks. More crossbow shots emerged, as well as energy beams from their strange crystal horns. Nothing threatened her. The blows that came close simply vanished in her aura.

Again, her passing scorched without killing. She kept her power contained. Her hope for it was dimming, but there was still a chance of doing this without death.

There.

A raised platform, cut from giant sapphires. A dozen ponies stood about on it, clad in their black plate mail and red-plumed helms. Not waving weapons or shouting like the rest, but watching impassively.

Celestia winged over to them immediately, garnering no reaction.

“Yield!” she roared, voice like a thunderclap.

They remained rooted to the spot, not even deigning to draw their weapons or turn away. One of them stepped forwards. She wore the armor, but no helmet. It was a pale blue mare with white hair, raising a hoof in defiance.

Her hoary, angry voice shot back. “Come and take us!”

Contrary to her words, the mare then turned and dove off the platform. A heartbeat later, Celestia was amongst them.

No doing it by halves. A sweep of her wings brought a barrage of white sparks onto the officers. They lanced through the thickest plates to burn deep into the crystal flesh within.

Most of the dozen died immediately. A few took a little longer, giving muffled cries as the sun-hot sparks scoured their bodies. Only one remained; standing directly in front of Celestia, he was spared from both wing beats.

She landed before him, letting her hooves melt deep grooves into the gemstone platform. Her face was one of imperious wrath. “Yield!”

Even now, the plate-covered pony said nothing. He shook, and that was the only movement.

“Yield!” Celestia said again. With raw effort, she corked her boiling power. She grabbed him with telekinesis and lifted him. 

His hooves didn’t even leave the ground before she encountered resistance. Surprised, Celestia looked down. Short lengths of chain were binding his legs to the platform.

What?

She stepped closer, struggling to contain her power still further. A more gentle magic emerged, this one pulling off the plumed helmet.

“He” turned out to be a “she.” A middle-aged, green crystal mare with a gag tied into her mouth. Terror and tears were in her eyes, the left one crossed by an ownership tattoo.

Celestia’s dry mouth worked down a swallow. As tenderly as she could manage, she undid the gag.

“A slave?” she asked, breathless.

The mare just nodded, looking down and away. Towards the other bodies. Even the dead ones were weirdly propped up by the chains at their hooves.

One of them gave a last, feeble twitch.

Nothingness entered Celestia’s thoughts. Blankness. Not even anger or horror, just shock. It numbed her, and her vision swam out of focus.

They were crowding towards her, now. A horde on the charge, coming from each side with raised halberds, spears, and swords. They fancied her vulnerable. Having lured her into their midst, they would overwhelm her.

Celestia’s dull eyes refocused.

And narrowed.

“You cowards!” A massive, rumbling voice echoed alongside Celestia as she screamed the words. Like the Sun itself was speaking with her, impossibly old and huge and full of hate.

The horde queued around her, now almost in spear’s reach.

One of her hooves swept upwards before her chest, moving from the right to left. At the divine command, the earth erupted. The ground was rent asunder as fire and lava leaped up from the snow. In a cone emanating from where she gestured, crystal ponies died in flames.

She slammed her right leg down and swept out with the left, raising her hoof to the heavens and bringing the eruptions to her other side as well. Thousands more perished in seconds, their screams lost in the crashing of stones and the hiss of melting snow.

Celestia took off and flew like a windswept kite: straight up, straight back, and straight down, a hundred meters behind the platform. Unleashed, her aura landed before she did, killing those beneath her instantly. Her hooves stomped to the ground, creating a tremor that threw the back ranks around like ragdolls. Some were launched full meters into the air, to land wetly to the iced ground beneath.

She could see more slaves mixed in with the rest. Not even given weapons, but pushed forward along with their masters. All of them dying together. Some scared, some with strange glee on their faces.

Her horn glowed, and white heat shot through the thickest batch of foes she could see. “You butchers!”

No, Tia! That’s you!

The moment of clarity sent her rocketing skywards once more. Her tears sizzled and smoked as they came from her eyes.

Enough? Is this enough?

No. Their leaders will just reform them.

Where? Where?!

“You fools!” she screamed. No longer imperious or huge. Just an alicorn with a cracking voice, who was far too young for this. “Sombra’s dead!”

It was ragged, and barely heard above the screams. But the damn chant remained. Long live the King. Long live King Sombra. Celestia hung limply in the air and let a sob course through her body. It was all too much. She wanted to go.

“Then what?” she snarled, the rage bubbling forth again. “Send in the mortals to die? Make Luna do it? Buck up, Tia!”

The leaders. Kill the leaders and this will all be over.

The mission gave her purpose. She flew low and slow, ignoring their feeble projectiles. They needed to recover. They needed someone to rally them. Briefly, all she saw was a sea of black armor. Who could say how many were slaves, and how many were soldiers?

But amongst it all, a pale blue face with a white mane. The spokesmare from earlier, standing atop two others to scream orders at the milling throng.

Celestia was upon her in an instant. She grabbed the mare roughly under the forelegs and hoisted her to the overcast sky.

She wanted to ask, “Why?” But it would serve no purpose, so instead she roared to the mare’s face. “Yield!”

Lord Marshal Diamond’s hair was smoking, some parts already ignited from Celestia’s aura. Her armor was fast melting from the close proximity. The mare grunted and winced as rivets of liquid metal dripped down her flesh.

Celestia didn’t care. The mare had but to say a word, and she’d live.

“Sombra lives,” Diamond croaked, pain warring with arrogance in her voice. “He’ll come back.”

Celestia raised her higher and gave her a violent shake. “Sombra’s dead, you fool!”

The mare locked eyes with Celestia. She tilted her nose up and spat on the sun princess’ face. 

The saliva boiled at the touch, and Diamond burst into flame. She still burned as Celestia hurled her downwards, a flaming projectile back into her own lines.

The sun-voice returned, screaming along with Celestia as she dropped like a comet. She felt the earth give way beneath her, and she roasted it. Those who survived the earlier blows found themselves knee-deep as the snow turned to boiling water.

Her wide eyes had gone pure white. Celestia threw her head back and neighed, trembling as her power flooded the air.

It was a vision of the apocalypse, or the Hells that may lie in wait. A few were able to flee, tearing wildly into the blizzard. The rest were trapped in the inferno. Some escaped the lava to fall in the boiling water. Some found solid ground, only to find it cooking their hooves beneath them. They leaped, neighed madly… and fell.

Like a leash around her own neck, Celestia once more forced herself from her rage. But it was too late. She couldn’t stop the fires, the boiling. Too late to save them. There was no pony left to–

Her eyes widened as she turned back to the sapphire platform. The middle-aged slave was still there, raised by a mere foot above the bubbling sea. She was gazing at the carnage around her, watching with fear as the water rose.

Celestia was aloft again. I can save one!

I can at least save one!

She swept the mare up in her forelegs, rising upwards just seconds before the boiling water claimed the platform. More steam came from Celestia’s eyes as she wept in relief.

And then she smelled the burning, and realized her folly. 

It was like with the leader, but this mare had no armor. Her body was twisting and scorching in Celestia’s embrace.

The two looked at each other. Celestia could barely match her gaze, lost in horror. The mare just looked back sadly, tears boiling from her own eyes.

The slave opened her mouth, and smoke came out. She coughed, leaned in closer, and managed to whisper.

“I pity you.”

There was nothing else for it. Celestia hugged her tightly and flared hotter, ending the other’s pain.

And then she fled.









It was a “blink and you'll miss it” moment.

Not that any of the Equestrian soldiers were blinking. They could hear her coming from miles away. A high whine as the air shook with her speed and heat.

They knew she had set out against the last Imperial army. And now, Princess Celestia was making her triumphant return.

The white comet that was her aura passed directly overhead, bathing the ground below in a moment of heat. Such was the speed of her passing that the overcast gave way, briefly ending the snowfall. The grey clouds had been parted, revealing blue skies and the glorious sun above.

The soldiers celebrated wildly. They knew this was the end – the good fight, brought to its victorious conclusion. They laughed and wept, hugged and marveled at the sun they hadn’t seen for a week.

A short distance from the rest, standing alone, Luna looked upwards. Her posture was still and composed, face caught somewhere between a grimace and a sneer.

Really, Tia? Grandstanding your victory? I thought you went alone for MY sake.

Her mouth curled in a humorless smirk. “Silly me.”

The mortals were still going wild. Caesar had been called on to make a speech, but he kept being interrupted by cheers and shouts.

He kept it short, wrapping it up quickly before the ecstatic crowd. “We bring order! We bring freedom! We’re more than an army, we are Celestians!”

Luna grimaced as they took up the last words as a chant.

“We are Celestians!”

“We are Celestians!”

She grunted in annoyance. Even her own vassals were echoing the call. Lunar Guards stood with the rest of the idiots, grinning and shouting that damnable nickname.

“Celestians!”

“Celestians!”



A short, wordless growl of frustration spat from Luna’s throat. She kicked once at the snow, turned, and stalked from the campsite.
> Chapter 2: Sister-Foe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aid your brother, whether he is the oppressed or the oppressor,” the Prophet taught.

“How is the oppressor to be aided?” a follower asked him.

“By stopping him from oppressing.”

-From the Sahih al-Bukhari





It was… a nice dream, Star Swirl decided. Arrogant, perhaps, but certainly a dream worth defending. The notion so many ponies held that they were better than the other races. Maybe not stronger or smarter, but kinder, gentler, and possessed of a peaceful nature. For centuries they believed it to be so, and for centuries they’d seen no evidence to the contrary.

He was a student of history, and well knew the violence in their tribal past. And he considered himself a hard cynic, capable of distilling even the most wondrous magic into a cold science. But even Star Swirl had let himself believe that the worst days were far behind them.

The little hill he was on gave a grim view of the plains below. A battlefield, and a victorious one at that. But it was the end of more than a battle, or lives, or even the innocence of the present era. It was the end of that dream. A tangle of bodies where ponies had, just like in ages past, hurled themselves to bloody violence against each other.

A half-dozen Lifeguard surrounded him – unicorns with rapiers and cocked flintlocks, looking fearfully to the sky. The rebels loved their airborne ambushes. Especially nighttime ones, and it’s been…

“It’s been… hm, Fleur?” Star Swirl called, adjusting his trademark conical hat. “How many days has the night lasted?”

Ignoring the illogic of the question, the chief Lifeguard tilted his head and sniffed. “‘Fleur-De-Ancienne,’ if you please. I’m still a noble, even if I am your bodyguard. And it’s ten. Ten days since we’ve seen the sun.”

“Ten days,” Star Swirl echoed, eyes going back to the killing grounds.

The white unicorn nodded. “Oui. Now can we please depart? You are very exposed up here.”

“Fine, fine.” Grumbling, the wizard began following his bodyguards down the slope. “I had to see it. Hell’s Teeth, they’d all be alive if we had just fled when we saw they wouldn’t talk.”

Fleur glanced back at Star Swirl, eyebrows raised. “But we won. There was loss, but so it goes when evil is defied. Do not blame yourself for the cost.”

Another grumble from the aging wizard. “Oh, I don’t blame myself. I blame her.”

“Ah, yes. Luna will have much to answer for.” The Lifeguard nodded, then resumed craning his neck skyward.

Star Swirl hesitated a step, pawing the ground before continuing. “Not just Luna.”

“Pardon?”

Fleur turned, and his charge’s horn was already igniting. The bodyguard cried in alarm as a portal opened in front of Star Swirl, and he calmly walked through it.

“What are you doing?!”

Star Swirl glanced back from the other side, inky blackness all around him. “Something that I should have done ten days ago.”

The Lifeguard groaned in exasperation, all decorum disintegrating. “Wizard, I am your bodyguard! You can’t keep ditching me like–”

The portal closed. Star Swirl allowed himself a single, humored smile before turning to the task at hoof.

Teleportation was child’s play for him, especially for a place he frequented so often. He closed his eyes. It only worked if you closed your eyes and thought of the place. How the ground feels under the hooves, and how the air smells in the nose.

Plush royal carpeting. Sound muffled by high walls. Smells of refinement, yet with a pine-needle scent creeping in from the forest around.

Star Swirl squinted his eyes open, accustomed to the light blinding him after teleporting here. Even at night, the sisters’ palace was normally well-lit for Luna’s empty court.

Not this time, though. Star Swirl opened his eyes to an empty palace. The servants and nobles were gone: off to war, or simply fled. The only light came through windows from the stars above.

He appeared in the foyer – utterly deserted. Fumbling in the dark, he entered the parlor, then the banquet hall. Empty, and empty.

The throne room was empty too, but at least the ever-torches were still lit. Star Swirl sighed and took off his hat, stopping to scratch the greying mane.

“All that trouble and she’s not even here?” he gave a short laugh. “Fleur’s gonna kill me himself.”

In the kitchen, though, he found a guard eating by lantern light. Too old and infirm to run off with the rest, she had stayed behind to keep her own vigil.

At Star Swirl’s question, she pointed a hoof.

“Celestia’s in her room,” the old mare said. “Hasn’t opened the door for three days, the poor dear.”

Star Swirl thanked her and tipped his hat low, hoping she didn’t see the twitch that came to his face.

Walking once more into the throne room, he voiced the thoughts. “She’s the ‘poor dear?’”

This time, he marched past the thrones to the back rooms. The princesses kept the door to their living space locked, so he battered it down with a quick spell.

He’d never actually been back here, but Celestia’s room was easy enough to find. It was the only one with light creeping from under the door.

He raised a solid, chipped hoof and knocked twice.

“Luna?!” The desperate, hopeful voice emerged. 

Star Swirl sighed and looked down. This wasn’t going to be easy. “No, Princess. It’s me.”

Yellow magic gripped the door and it swung inwards. Star Swirl stepped inside, squinting against the light.

On a sun-decaled carpet stood Princess Celestia. Her eyes were wide with stewing fear, and bloodshot from exhaustion. Ink was smudged on her hooves and white feathers. Her hair, oddly, was more vibrant than ever – whipping to the side as if caught by a harsh wind.

Star Swirl held another sigh in his throat. He couldn’t afford to pity her.

“Well, if it isn’t the Bearded One,” she said sweetly, indulging in his nickname. A wan smile was offered, but a second later it was gone.

“Princess…”

He trailed off, the sigh escaping from him. His words held glum resignation. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Oh-oh!” Celestia tutted and floated a parchment over to him. “Read this and tell me what you think.”

She held it expectantly in the air. Star Swirl eyed the scroll, but didn’t reach his own magic to accept. The resignation had left, his voice returning to its rough edge. “What’s this?”

“It’s a letter to Luna!” Celestia giggled, out of nerves more than humor. “Oh, I just know that if I can phrase it right she’ll come back and–”

“Haven’t you already sent letters?”

The words gave a brief pause to both of them. Celestia was not used to being interrupted, and Star Swirl hadn’t intended to. But it happened, and he honestly wasn’t sorry.

Celestia was the first to resume, her smile growing more nervous, more pained. “Yes, but I think I got them wrong! I made the letters all about the need to raise the sun, not her own needs!”

“Princess…”

Celestia paced away from him, levitating three more half-finished letters around her. “And I can’t help but wonder if she wants things to go back to normal, but thinks it’s too late! I need to show that I still love her!”

It was sad to watch. Star Swirl breathed in slowly, and out even more so. “Princess.”

He could have left and she wouldn’t have noticed. Running out of room to pace, Celestia turned in a quick circle. Twitching and talking excitedly to herself, she knocked over a vial of ink. It crashed open on the priceless carpet, and she didn’t even blink.

“I know she’s mad at me, and here’s the thing: I want to end the night, but I don’t want to ‘big sister’ her into doing it. I want it to be her decision.”

Enough wasting time. Star Swirl growled. “She’s already decided, Princess!”

The response was a panicked whine that set his teeth on edge. “But she might change her mind!”

Star Swirl breathed out sharply. This was it. No going back after this.

His words came out with the bitterness that had been building in him all week. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

That caught her attention. Celestia turned to regard him, blinking owlishly, not certain she had heard right. Foes had despised her, Luna had teased her, and nobles gossiped as they were wont to do… but none had ever insulted her to her face.

Nothing for Star Swirl to do but press forward. “Ten days.”

She cocked a head. “Ten days?”

The ignorance touched a nerve in him. “Do you really not know?” he snapped. “Ten days of night! Ten days since your sister went insane!”

“Don’t talk about her that way!” Celestia shot back. She looked away, worry in her eyes. “She’s just… having an episode.”

Star Swirl gave another hard sigh. “I’m going to say it again, because I guess I need to.”

He licked his dry lips and looked back at her. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

His voice had lost its heat, but was no kinder for it. Accusation seeped into every word. “You’ve been here. Writing letters.”

Celestia said nothing. She just stood there, looking back at him with incomprehension.

“I’m sorry,” Star Swirl offered, and cursed himself. He had to be hard. He gestured with his horn, back out the doorway. “You need to come with me.”









Celestia was scared.

Not of Star Swirl personally, of course. But of what he had to say. She had to force herself to follow him, conscious of each step.

She’d spent the last two weeks being scared, so maybe she was just letting herself be bullied. Maybe his anger and bizarre defiance would just lead to a big anti-climax.

A quick, nervous laugh came from her throat. Maybe this was a prank! Yes, this was just Luna coming off her latest mood swing. She knew she had overreacted at the New Year’s Celebration. So Luna had pulled this stunt with the moon, drafted Star Swirl, and was leading Celestia to the party!

It wasn’t true, and she knew it in her heart. But playing pretend distracted her, and made it easier to follow in his wake.

Lost in her thoughts, Celestia startled as something brushed her hoof. Grass. They were out of the forest.

She cast her gaze about, but there were few clues. The airborne princess had never bothered learning to navigate on the ground, and the heavens were a jumble of misplaced stars.

Celestia eyed the too-large moon, giving a tut. Luna would have a lot of cleaning up to do.

“How much further?” she asked.

Star Swirl gave a sidelong glance, then dropped back to walk level with her. His eyes, though, turned away.

The tone was almost casual, yet the words were anything but. “Did you know we’re in a civil war, Princess?”

She caught her breath. Panic rose, and fell just as quickly. A smile snuck its way onto her face.

“I rather think somepony would have told me,” she said primly.

“Have you been keeping up with your mail?” The wizard shot back. “Or left your room?”

Another first: Celesia snapping at him. “I’ve been busy!” She snarled, ending the calm illusion. “And more than tolerant of your impudence.”

“‘Civil war?’” She went on, raising her nose. “Don’t be ridiculous. What are the factions? Are the pegasi seceding? Or perhaps you’re implying that my sister’s guards are raising arms against us?”

It was at that moment that she stumbled, giving an undignified yelp. Something hard and sharp had caught her hoof. A hollow clank sounded at the contact.

Celestia raised the offending object with her magic, peering closely. It was a light purple helmet, oversized to guard most of the neck. A sharp metal frill ran along its top, darker color than the rest.

She’d seen helmets like this a thousand times. The Lunar Guard.

No blood. She shook her head. This meant nothing. It had fallen from a sky chariot, or was a weak prop for Luna’s prank.

Star Swirl waited until she was done with it, offering no word of argument of explanation.

“Come,” he said when she set down the helm. “Just over this hill.”

She swallowed hard, hesitating a long second before following. He was about to prove her wrong. This wasn’t a prank, or a misunderstanding, or even another of Luna’s mood swings. However little sense it made, this was worse.

Star Swirl was about to show her just how much worse it was, and it took every scrap of the young alicorn’s will to follow him those last few steps.

It came into view as she slowly crested the hill. Celestia didn’t scream, or cry, or look away.

She just looked. Silently, not even with a sigh.

Conflict wasn’t a stranger to her, but it had been a blissfully long time since she gazed upon a battlefield. Sad clumps of foes, clustered together in death wherever the fast-moving platoons had clashed. Here, a crashed sky chariot, its last victims crushed beneath it. There, the earth ripped asunder by arcane force, with only pieces left from those who stood there. 

Years ago, it was her ponies against the crystal strangers. Clear battle lines, clear victories and defeats. Here, it could scarcely be judged who fell on which side. Some wore gold or deep blue, but others had on regional colors. She recognized red uniforms from Vanhoover, and a broken standard bearing the Flower of Prance. But no sign of who they stood with.

Broken lances. Split helms. Tattered, abandoned banners and bullet-rent shields. And every now-cool corpse, a pony.

Her subjects. Every one of them.

Celestia took a deep breath to steel herself, but it came in a ragged gasp. She breathed in and out quickly a few times, digesting the scene.

Then, very slowly, she bowed her head. Not towards the fallen, but tilting it away from them. It had been… more than one century, but less than two since the war. Years of parties and gossip. Exploration, productivity, and fun. Maybe not as fun as the first years, before Luna started having her moods. But still they were good years, for her and everypony else.

And now, the good years were over.

There was one more thread of hope. Maybe, at the very least, this wasn’t Luna’s doing. A mad noble, or some cult infiltrating the royal guards.

“I can’t tell the sides,” she said in a whisper.

Star Swirl had been silent during her introspection, but offered the truth without ceremony. “Us against your sister.” Then a snort. “Eternal night is worth fighting against, with or without your help.”

“Don’t be silly,” Celestia sneered and raised her nose, desperately turning to arrogance. “Who would follow something like that? Even her own guards eat hay grown in the sunshine.”

“Lots of reasons… hm.” Star Swirl paused, and tilted his head forwards. “Walk with me while we talk.”

He began stepping down the hill, towards the battlefield. Celestia watched him walk, for the first time noticing how hobbled he seemed. Though middle-aged, his back swayed like an old horse. His shoulders were slumped, and his voluminous cape sagged across his back.

Celestia had been about to protest, already plenty convinced by viewing the field from above. But watching him walk… no, she could do this. She took a last deep breath, squaring her nerve, and strode slowly after him.

He didn’t say a word until they began walking through the field itself. Celestia kept her breathing shallow. Her perfume warred with the stench of death around them, and the mixture was nauseating. She raised her eyes, unwilling to look down.

It took only three seconds for her to stumble, nearly pitching over before catching herself. The frilled helm of a pegasus hussar, its owner likely the one lying a few paces away. Celestia gingerly stepped around the corpse and looked up once more. She tripped again, this time over a cracked shield bearing the Raven of Baltimare.

Resigned to it, Celestia turned her gaze to the ground.

She gasped as two brilliant gold orbs stared back at her. A batpony, lying with a ragged wound in his chest. He was looking at her, still alive! She could at least…

…No, not still alive. Just dead eyes, staring. Celestia shivered and moved past.

She almost missed it when Star Swirl spoke again. “Lots of reasons why ponies threw in with Luna. None of them good, if you ask me. Some are soldiers just following orders, with the bad luck to be in her half of the army. Some think themselves downtrodden, and want a change, any change. Others are opportunists. They think this ‘eternal night’ thing is just part of a power play, and they want to be on the winning side.”

“Is she winning?” Celestia called, several steps behind him.

“I dunno,” he called back, pausing to let her catch up. “It used to be half day, half night. Now it’s all night. What are they supposed to think?”

He looked right back at her, and Celestia looked away. Star Swirl grimaced and resumed his stride. “Some of them are getting religious about it. They think the night is a sign that Luna’s somehow turned from an alicorn into… a god, I guess.”

Celestia shivered again, this time recalling the Sombra-worshippers. Could such a thing take root here? Not crystal ponies from a foreign land, but her own little ponies? Chanting, praising, and plunging headlong into death for the sake of a make-believe god?

I’d die first. The thought hit her. The first real thought that desperate measures might be needed.

“And she’s allowing this?” There was hurt in Celestia’s voice. That Luna would welcome such attention… what happened to her?

Star Swirl let a few seconds pass before answering, bracing himself for the words. “The Lunar Guard seized Baltimare before anypony knew what was happening. Luna gave a tirade above the central square, declaring herself queen. The last words were…”

He glanced back, eyeing her response. “‘Say my name when you pray.’”

Celestia was silent, but a twinge came to her face. A bit of her old, imperious anger was resurfacing.

But it fell just as quickly, and her nervousness resumed. “Where is she now?”

“Luna doesn’t give me her schedule,” Star Swirl grunted. “She wasn’t here, that much I know. Prisoners said they were acting on her orders, trying to make a quick march on the castle. Duchess Blueblood and I grabbed who we could and threw it in their way.”

Celestia looked off vaguely, thoughts more towards Luna than the wizard. She gave him a distracted smile. “The lack of Lunar Guard in my home seems to indicate you won.”

“Right here,” Star Swirl gestured. Rather than clumps of skirmishers, the ground he pointed to was carpeted with bodies. All shoulder to shoulder, friends and foes twisted around each other in what had been a bitter struggle. Most of them wore the gold plate of the Day Guard, though scores of their enemies lay mingled with them.

“They beat us everywhere,” he said, looking out with old eyes. “Most of the provincial troops just ran when they saw the owlbears. The duchess took what was left and held out here, screening the rout long enough for me to pull them back together. We counter-charged just as her line was about to break, and swept them from the field.”

Celestia nodded. “The younger Duchess Blueblood, you mean? Scrappy little wisp of a thing?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ll reward her when next we meet.”

Star Swirl gave her another glance. “It’d be posthumous.”

The princess blinked. She barely knew the duchess, but to hear of her death…

“Oh,” she said lamely.

Silence fell, the pair gazing out to the scene around them. It ended quickly, before Celestia could rally her thoughts.

“She said…” using his magic, Star Swirl lifted an object from the mess – a metal shield, embossed with a golden sun. He studied it intently, chewing over the next words. “The survivors tell me she kept shouting to them, ‘We are Celestians! We believe in the Right, and the Sun, and Celestia! We are Celestians, and we don’t fail!’”

He held up the shield, giving Celestia a full view of it.

And he dropped it to the ground. His tone grew hard once more, open anger coming to his face. “I wonder what she would have said if she knew. About you locking yourself in your room while the kingdom fell apart, writing letters.”

“I…” Celestia shook her head, hesitating, looking away. “I wanted to stop Luna before things got out of control.”

“Things are out of control!” Star Swirl returned, a note of pleading creeping into his voice.

“Fine. I need to talk with her, then.”

Star Swirl huffed, his temper rising. “And how much time will that take? Princess, it’s been ten days! Every day-night that passes, more crops die, and more ponies kneel to Luna. Not only that, every monster you can imagine are attacking the towns, thinking it’s open season on us.”

“Well what else am I going to do?” Celestia snapped back.

“Fight her!”

Celestia’s hoof came down, eliciting a noise like a thunderbolt. “Fight Luna? Star Swirl, she’s my sister! How we deal with this is between me and her.”

The wizard let out a sharp breath. He slowly lowered his head – not in submission, but aggression. His voice was lower, but all the angrier. “You alicorns sure have nice problems.”

His princess blinked, still guarded, but confused by the words. Star Swirl went on, bitterness dripping from his voice. “You doing nothing will mean more battles, more hunger, more monsters, and all that equaling a hell of a lot of dead ponies. But hey, all that’s nothing compared to sisterly love.”

He flared his hoof out with sudden violence, sweeping it across the carnage. “How many of them were sisters?! Brothers?! And lost it all–”

The hoof came around and pushed Celestia none-too gently on the chest. Their gazes met, and they could see tears in each other’s eyes. “–For you!”

“It’s not…” Star Swirl gasped and sighed, voice cracking. He looked away, swallowing hard before turning back. The anger was gone from his eyes and voice, replaced by a desperate edge.

“It’s not about… you.” He managed, very softly. “It was never about you, or Luna. It’s not even about these poor souls. It’s about the ponies, the ones still alive. The ones you can still do something for.”

“Princess, they need you to be the leader you need to be. It’s hard, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for shouting, and I’m sorry for what you have to do. But there’s no choice.”

Celestia felt her own defensiveness leaking away. Star Swirl was yet young, far younger than she. But he was so old at the same time. His grey-maned head bowed, beard limp upon his chin.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus. ‘No choice.’ Was it true? The idea of fighting Luna horrified her. But Star Swirl wasn’t wrong. She’d been idle too long. Blind for too long.

‘Blind…’

Luna… what’s wrong with you? What did I miss?

A sigh escaped her lips. She breathed in deeply, taking in the iron and spoiled-milk scent of the death around her.

Smell it, she commanded herself. Feel the taste on your tongue. These are your ponies.

Celestia closed her eyes and smelled again. There was the acrid smell of magic, and feces mingled with the blood and bodies. Don’t run. Don’t hide.

Take responsibility, you useless peacock.

It was odd, but she drew resolve from the self-insult. A third, willful sniff of the air. 

They died for her, despite herself. They deserved better. Ponies with the hearts of lions, fighting for a fool liege. She didn’t deserve their loyalty.

But she would. At least, she would try.

Her eyes opened. “Star Swirl.” Celestia’s voice was hoarse, and barely above a whisper. But, unmistakably, it carried the strength of command.

“Your words are not untrue. But they lack a means. You want me to fight her. To what end?”

“Crush her power?” He suggested, then haltingly added, “Or… if there’s no choice…”

“‘Kill her.’” Celestia finished for him, though was unable to hide the waver in her own voice. 

“Was that what you were going to say?” She looked to him, and this time it was Star Swirl who looked away. He shuffled his hooves, not quite willing to voice confirmation.

Celestia turned her own gaze to the moon – out of place, and far too large. “Do you think I can?”

“You tell me,” he grumbled.

“I cannot.” She let the words hang a second before continuing. “Alicorns don’t die. Not normally, not unless we accept it. I could crush her body, but if she wanted to come back, her spirit would grow a new one.”

“And I can’t simply ‘drain’ her, or anything like that.” She gave him a wry smile. “To quote a learned pony: ‘Unless the process is voluntary, magical beings are inseparable from their magic.’ Chapter four, ‘Magic and Life,’ by Star Swirl the Bearded.”

The humor died, and she glanced away once more. “So. Even accepting that you’re right, what do we do? Until either Celestia or Luna chooses to move on, Equestria is stuck with both of us.”

Star Swirl gave it a moment before responding. He knew the answer. But he had her attention. No need to press it too hard.

He stroked his beard, approaching the issue cautiously. “You and your sister have fought invincible beings before, and won.”

A glance was shared, and Star Swirl went on. “Discord. You didn’t kill him, but bind him. With the Elements of Harmony.”

Celestia tapped a hoof, saying nothing.

The Elements. A powerful tool, but one shrouded in mystery. She didn’t know much about them, and Star Swirl’s studies had yielded nothing. They were far older than her, and held a magic that escaped definition. A power that harnessed feeling instead of thought, and was channeled with emotion rather than knowledge.

The hoof tapped again.

“You’re proposing that I turn my sister to stone.” Celestia’s words were carefully neutral. “Or worse. Somehow I guess that there’s more to them than the power to petrify.”

The wizard shrugged unhappily. “I’m proposing we use the one tool we’ve got.”

Celestia bit her lip, casting her eyes back and forth. It was true. Everything he said was true.

But…

How can you even be thinking about this?! You’ve spent CENTURIES with Luna! Playing and loving and fighting and making up… it’ll end if you do this. She’s your sister!

Her eyes turned back to the battleground. She growled, echoing Star Swirl’s words too low for him to hear. “How many of them were sisters?”

But the anger faded as quickly as it came, and she glanced skyward. “But we rule together. Forever. I can’t just end ‘Forever.’”

The back-and-forth in her head ended abruptly, interrupted by a shout with a thick Prench accent. “Star Swirl! Thank the Dawn you’re safe!”

“…So I can kill you myself,” the indignant lifeguard finished. Fleur-De-Ancienne was puffing with exertion, his once-white face now beat red.

Celestia arched an eyebrow, noting that he didn’t even acknowledge her. He strode past, fanning himself with his foppy hat.

Star Swirl looked away guiltily, expecting a lecture from his much-abused guard. Instead, Fleur wobbled and sat down hard on his backside.

“Just ran back from the palace,” he managed between gasps. “Thought you’d be going there. Good thing I was wrong.”

The wizard coughed, and sent a sidelong glance to Celestia. “Well, actually I–” 

He caught the last few words and stopped, embarrassment replaced with worry. “What do you mean, ‘good thing?’”

The winded guard jerked his head northwards. “It’s her. It’s Princess Luna.”

Celestia stiffened as the pony went on. “She’s prowling the palace, my lord. Shoots out a window here and there, but seems more focused on talking and shouting. Like she’s arguing with herself, but I beg your pardon, I didn’t get close enough to make much out.”

With his breath regained, Fleur’s voice was tight and professional. He seemed worried, but more interested in giving a cool-headed report.

A brave soul. He deserves a real leader.

Fleur cocked his head. “She was looking different, too. But again, I didn’t get too close. I just stayed around long enough to make sure you didn’t embarrass me by dying.”

Star Swirl smiled, long-accustomed to his minder’s worry. “It’d be my own fault. I don’t–”

Celestia’s voice rang out above his, her back already towards them. “I’m going.”

The two unicorns hesitated, looking at her. Fleur, perhaps finally realizing he snubbed his ruler, retreated a pace.

The wizard eyed her. “Are you ready?”

“No choice. The Elements are in the palace, and Luna knows where they are.” 

She turned her head. A reassuring smile formed on Celestia’s face, and she graced him with a nod. “Yes. I’m ready.”

The smile lasted exactly long enough for her to turn away and launch herself to the air. Star Swirl had called out a last few words, but they were drowned by her hammering thoughts.

No. She wasn’t ready. Not at all.

She had to go, though. This was her chance. Not for the Elements, but for Luna. Finally, they could talk face to face. Sister to sister. They could end this madness.

She flew, fast and hard as she could. It was the work of moments, tearing beneath the mad stars and too-large moon. She wore no halo of fire, cast no comet-trail behind her. She wasn’t coming as the princess of the sun, bearing vengeance. Not even as Princess Celestia.

It was just Tia, needing a talk with her sister.

Tia landed before the palace and hurried in, leaving the doors open behind her. She could hear Luna’s voice, but… no, it wasn’t Luna’s voice. There was a soft echo to it, a vicious, commanding sneer.

No, not even that. It was the sneer that was the noise, with Luna’s voice as the echo.

It was coming from the throne room. Tia advanced cautiously, hiding her power. Opening and closing the parlor door softly.

The almost-Luna voice was clearly audible, berating somepony in there with her. “Have you lost your hearing, old fool? Kneel to me! Worship me! I am Nightmare Moon, and you’ll kneel or I’ll kill you!”

“I won’t!” The return voice was stern and matronly. “And you won’t kill me! Because Luna’s in there somewhere, and she’s a good one. She won’t let you!”

Even as black as things seemed, Tia smiled. Good old Mama Shield. Sixty years a guard, and even now she never left her post. She always joked that she’d sooner die.

Die.

The smile fell. Tia ran.

All pretense of stealth gone, Tia took out half the wall as she crashed through the foyer. The old grey mare was there, flinching as a bolt of blue-green energy shot towards her.

Her eyes closed, Mama Shield only heard and felt Tia arrive. First a crash, then the heat. Like a fireball, coming from behind, then leaping over her to plant itself in front.

She opened her eyes just in time to see the flare as the killing blow met Tia’s aura. The bolt hit the white shield and bounced off through the skylight.

Tia wasn’t looking at the old Mama. Her attention was fixed ahead, at the thing standing by the thrones.

It was tall. Taller than Tia, and far taller than Luna ever was. Glossy fangs poked bizarrely from its equine mouth. Pale blue eyes watched her through slit pupils, standing out all the more for the black hair covering the body.

No, not hair. Just blackness where the coat should be.

Yet here and there it wasn’t quite so. The mare stepped forward, and a bit of the blackness sloughed off like wet tar. Dark blue could be seen beneath… or was it just Tia’s imagination?

It’s not. Luna’s in there.

“Run,” Tia hissed to the withered mortal behind her. Dog-loyal though she was, Mama Shield needed no second bidding.

“Ooh,” Luna cooed mockingly. “Nice save, Tia! You’re such a

Hero!” The last word sent a shockwave through the chamber, cracking every window. The humored tone vanished, replaced by rage in Luna’s voice. “I bet she’ll tell everypony about what a wonderful princess you are!”

This was it. Tia summoned what composure she could and stood tall, neither submissive nor aggressive. “Luna!” she called loudly. “Stop this at once!”

“Who-na?” The mare shot back with a maniac grin. “There’s no such thing.”

She jerked her head suddenly, whipping off some of the blackness covering her face. Tia gasped. There! There was Luna’s face, beneath the fanged shell.

Briefly, the being was half-Luna, half-monster. Both halves grinned madly in twisted mirror of each other.

Tia recoiled in horror, quailing under her sister’s wide-eyed gaze.

Luna laughed. Now it was her own voice, with the monster as the echo. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m still your sister, I’m just a little better. Things’ll be great, Tia. No more of those sourpuss Old Luna things that drove you up a wall. No more mood swings, no more dodging your half-assed attempts at therapy. No more…”

“…you.”

The beam caught Tia by surprise. It hit her square in the chest – enough to kill her, at least for a time.

It didn’t, though. Tia’s chestpiece was more than ornament, and deflected the worst of it. Still, the princess flew back a dozen paces and fell in a heap.

“Things will be better in every way,” the two half-faces said, still eerily in Luna’s voice. The mare strode easily off the throne dais, nose raised. “It’s what Luna wants.”

It continued in a mockingly whining voice. “Oh, how I wish things were better for me! Why doesn’t anypony get me? I’m so lonely!”

It threw its head back and laughed, the evil, regal voice taking the fore again. “HeheHAHAHA! Oh, you alicorns! You stupid alicorns! You have everything, and you still want more!”

“What are you?!” Tia shrieked, scrambling to her hooves in such a hurry that she tripped and fell again. 

Hyperventilating, she staggered upright once more. Her resolve had all but deserted her. This monster… so horrible to see, with half of Luna’s face…

…But if it swallowed Luna back up, maybe she’d be gone forever.

“I told you: I’m your sister. Just better.” Her beam fired again. Tia dodged to the side, once more hitting the ground in a sprawl.

Luna made no move to press her advantage. “The old Luna’s gone. Good riddance, right? The name’s not really fitting for the queen of Equestria. Instead, call me…”

“…Nightmare Moon. And die!” With a shrill laugh, she fired again.

This time, a white bubble came to life around Tia. The beam struck it hard, cracking the shield before dissipating.

Nightmare Moon fired again, and this too was barely repulsed. When no counter-attack came, she fired twice more. The last shot partially broke the shield and struck Tia on the horn. The white alicorn gave a shout of pain and fell back on her haunches.

It hurt, but Tia was barely stunned. Her eyes glowed white, her horn glowed gold, and–

She looked up, and saw Luna’s face. Half-covered, half-mad, but it was still Luna.

Still Luna.

Luna braced, awaiting Tia’s strike. When it didn’t come, she fired another bolt, hitting Tia in the head.

This time it was Tia’s crown – again, more protection than ornament – that saved her. The rune-scribed metal burst to pieces. Tia recoiled and closed her eyes, but remained sitting upright.

When she opened her eyes again, the smile was gone from Luna’s face. Her head was cocked, looking with pensive confusion at her opponent.

“Is this a diversion?” Luna mused. “Is she just saving her energy? Or…”

Another maniac laugh sounded as she realized the answer. “Of course! Little goody four-hooves is too good of a sister to fight her pwecious wittle Woona. Oh, this is rich!”

“Well don’t worry, ‘Tia.’” Luna’s face gave one last grin. “I’m too good of a ‘sister’ to fight dirty with you.”

The darkness began expanding across the body again. Like ink, it crept into her hair and began dribbling down what was left of Luna’s face.

“Stop. Stop!” Tia raised a hoof out, but made no other move. She was dumb with horror and desperation, watching as her sister vanished from sight.

Somehow, the insane grin on Luna grew even larger. The black dribbling turned to pooling, running down her face and dripping to the floor. Where it touched her teeth, they grew and sharpened. Line by dripped line, they crossed her eye and left a slit, teal eye behind.

Soon, the last bit of Luna had been eaten. Nightmare Moon stood before Tia, whole and terrible to behold.

The mad grin vanished as orange light shot from Tia’s horn, knocking the monster head over tail.

Tia? Not to that thing. She was Princess Celestia. And she would free her sister.

“Finally!” The creature cried. It leapt up and flapped its wings, taking to the air. Celestia followed suit and they circled each other, firing their magic with no hits. Celestia picked up speed, trying to get behind her foe. Nightmare Moon matched the move, and in a matter of seconds the two had spiraled through the ceiling.

Fortunately, the ceiling was nothing more than a massive sun roof. The two alicorns passed through the glass like it wasn’t there, ignoring the deadly shards they scattered beneath them. They jockeyed with each other, diving and twisting and firing their controlled beams.

The futility of it was soon apparent. After ten minutes of maneuver, both had only gotten a single lucky hit to no real effect. Even when Celestia took another direct blow, it just washed off her fiery aura. With her guard up, the hits that once sent her sprawling were barely even noticed.

Luna, hold on. I’ll get you back.

It was too loud of a truth to keep silent about. “I’ll get my sister back! Even if it takes all night!”

Nightmare Moon sneered, easily dodging away as Celestia tried to close the distance. “Gonna have a long wait!”

Celestia accelerated, forcing Nightmare Moon to match. As the speed increased, the game of maneuver turned to a game of chicken. The night sky turned to a blur as the two veered around each other, their once-inaccurate shots now impossible. It became a contest to see who would ram the other… or collide with the ground.

Luna’s still in there. She’s holding back. I am, too. We’ll get through this.

After yet another close dodge, Nightmare Moon was caught by surprise as Celestia’s aura expanded in an instant. Where once there was air, the corrupted princess found herself slamming through a wall of searing, orange heat. She cried in panic, and thrashed as the tiny sun enveloped her.

It wasn’t too hot, or too destructive. It hurt, but it was dark magic that Celestia’s flames were truly anathema to. The dark shell around Luna burnt and cracked, then crumbled. Slowly, the younger alicorn beneath became visible. The dark blue hair and wide eyes soon dominated the form, though still she struggled against the aura’s grip.

She would have broken out had Celestia not swooped down, gripping Luna in her own hooves. More magic than heat, the flames bit at her as well as they scoured the evil shell. She felt Luna’s hoof collide with her eye, then twice on her snout. That hurt too, but still she held.

Celestia only smiled as one last punch broke her nose. It hurt. It would heal. And so would Luna.

When the thrashing stopped, Celestia doused her aura. She held Luna, and Luna was the only one there. The younger alicorn was looking around and blinking, as if having just woken up.

Hardly daring to do so, Celestia tilted her head back to look at her sister. The madness was gone from Luna’s eyes. Not a trace of the black shell remained. She was Luna again.

Celestia took a slow breath in through her throbbing nose. Tears were flowing freely, but she smiled all the same. Another crisis averted. This one the most painful yet, but they made it through. Together. Even Star Swirl won’t protest when he hears the story.

She pulled Luna in even closer, pressing her weeping eyes into her neck. Yes, Luna was there. She was real. She was Luna.

“Sister?” Luna asked, a faint rumble at the edge of her voice. “What are you doing?”

Celestia giggled. “Hugging you, silly. Welcome back.”

“‘Back?’” Gently, Luna pushed Celestia away, leaving her hooves on the older sister’s shoulders. “Sister, you don’t understand.”

“Hm?” Celestia tilted her head.

And the next thing she heard was the crack.

She didn’t even notice until after it happened. Luna’s hooves jerked with sudden violence, grabbing Celestia’s neck and twisting. Her vision spun up and her body went numb, and all that even before she heard the neck break.

Celestia began to fall. Luna’s hooves remained on her neck just long enough to hang her in the air for a moment, looking helplessly back upward.

Luna leaned in close. The grin was returning, and the dark energy began to cover her once more.

Numbly, Celestia saw it at last. It wasn’t an enchantment to dispel, or a specter to banish. It was Luna. Nightmare Moon was Luna. As much a part of her much as her horn and hooves.

“I want this,” Luna said, before vanishing once more into the Nightmare.

And she let go. With her neck broke, Celestia couldn’t even twitch her wings in protest. Gravity claimed her, and she fell to the palace below.









The castle was dark. She knew it, even with her eyes closed.

She moved a little bit – a twitch of the neck and foreleg, both splayed out at odd angles. She felt the soft velvet of the carpet, and the grind and prick of broken glass.

The throne room. She had fallen right back through the broken ceiling.

Celestia hadn’t even been knocked out, though an observer would not have known. She lay where she fell, not even shifting from the glass or opening her eyes. Long minutes passed before even those first twitches.

She… needed a few moments to think.

Luna. Nightmare Moon. Was there a difference, anymore?

Maybe not. Luna wasn’t acting under another’s control. It was Luna who ordered her guards to war, and demanded worship from the ponies. It was Luna who broke Celestia’s neck.

The neck had healed, but still she lay motionless.

Luna had betrayed her. Worse, she betrayed the trust their ponies placed in her. It was horrid, but it was a truth Celestia could accept. Luna had become a monster. She needed to be stopped.

If that was all, Celestia could do it. Mourn her lost sister, regret not seeing what brought her to this, and do what was needed.

But there was more. There were damning, niggling doubts in her mind, holding her back.

Luna knew a broken neck wouldn’t kill her. Why didn’t she press the attack?

Luna knew the Elements of Harmony were hidden in this very room. Why did she leave Celestia with them? Did she just not think about it? Or maybe Nightmare Moon doesn’t know what Luna does?

Maybe there was still a difference between Nightmare Moon and Luna. And if that was true, maybe Luna wasn’t all those terrible things. She was innocent, and kind. A little angry, but they could talk when this was over. She had to be scared, trapped inside that monster…

“I want this.”

Celestia caught herself. Nightmare Moon had been mocking and haughty, not this… personal. It was Luna that said it.

Or maybe not.

Five minutes had passed since her twitch, and Celestia gave another sign of life. A sigh, then a whisper. “What should I do?”

Wait. Research. Try to figure it out. Try to save Luna. Separate her from Nightmare Moon, by force if that’s what it takes. There has to be some spell in some book, somewhere.

And in the meantime, more ponies die. They kill each other, they go hungry. Or they get eaten by monsters, made bold by the endless night. More ponies die, and the rest turn on each other, fighting over scraps and beliefs…

But Luna! She might still be in there, waiting to be rescued. Even if the kingdom's halved by the time this is over, Luna's worth it! She's my sister, and–

Celestia’s eyes shot open, as if awakening from a nightmare. She shook her head hard, ignoring the ache in her neck, trying to rattle the thought out of her brain.

“It’s not about Luna.”

The words were just in her head. She knew she was alone, but she could still hear Star Swirl’s stern, sad voice.

“It’s not about Celestia, either. It’s about them.”

Them. The mortals. The ponies she lived for. She and Luna had led them for so long. Helped them build a society that they tried to make kind and just. Fought alongside them to protect it.

Luna was like Discord, now. Or Sombra, after he changed. Power without control. Lashing weaker beings into submission, trying to beat the world into her own image. No one to answer to. Indulging her maddest whims, reveling in the destruction.

A gold-shod hoof righted itself on the ground, and Celestia slowly stood. Her breathing was very shallow, and a tremble coursed through her body.

A few last, treacherous thoughts swept through her mind. Memories of happier times. Racing Luna through the sky. Sipping tea with her at parties, the pair giggling as blushing stallions asked them to dance.

Those times don’t have to be over. A little more time, and I can find the answer. A few more battles, a few more lost cities. A few more weeks of night, and I can get her back again.

She held the thought, turning it over in her head.

The vain hope no longer had power over her. Celestia released it, and forced the memories from her mind. 

At least, she tried to. Memories of Luna’s innocent, laughing face returned to the forefront of her thoughts as she spoke.

“It’s not about you, Luna. And it’s not about me. It’s about them.”

The memories didn’t matter. How much or little of this was the real Luna’s fault… that didn’t matter. It mattered to Celestia, but that didn’t matter, either. All of that was secondary. Hesitation born of sentimentality. It already cost thousands of lives.

No more hesitation. It was time to act.

Even with the happy memories at the front of her mind, Celestia’s eyes were dry. Her horn glowed above a stone-set face, and the carpet burned. Halfway between the thrones and the door, a square block of it roasted so quickly there wasn’t even time for the fire to spread. Her telekinesis yanked up the stones beneath, and then the Elements of Harmony from their hiding place.

They weren’t much to look at. Six grey spheres, each with a simple engraving.

There was so much more, though. At the barest touch of her magic, they began circling her of their own accord. Her emotions bubbled out of her, drawn by their power. She wanted to laugh and cry, scream and dance…

But one thought, one feeling, outshined the rest.

Duty. 

No, two things. Duty and… love. Love for her ponies, who she had to protect. Love for Luna, who she had to

Destroy.

Perhaps from the Elements themselves, the thought came to her, and she gave it voice. “Yes, destroy.”

Celestia swallowed, voice wavering. “But if it’s at all possible not to kill her… please…”

They shimmered weirdly, like oil in the sunlight. A dark, shifting rainbow. Maybe they were giving her an answer, though what it was she couldn’t say.

With sudden force, her wings – the last part to heal – righted themselves. Celestia looked up to the moonstruck sky, steeling herself. She licked dry lips and breathed hard for a moment. Once she took off, she couldn’t give herself time to think. No more selfishness.

A last image of Luna’s face. She cast it aside, thinking instead of the bloodstained battlefield and the duty yet before her.

Her wings beat once, and she was off.









It was so much easier now. With her feelings submerged, there was nothing left to hold her back.

Celestia rose, so bright that ponies across the land saw her ascend. A white corona shone about her, though occasional rainbow stripes leaked into the mix.

When she saw Nightmare Moon had departed, she did the one thing she knew would lure it back. With a yellow glow of her horn, Celestia began to drag forth the Sun. Luna would feel her moon being jarred out of position. Nightmare Moon would feel it, too.

Dawn hadn’t even crested when Celestia saw a bolt of black lightning across the lavender sky. It expanded before her, all Nightmare Moon and no Luna. There was no sign of the sloughing and cracking that marked the black coat before.

“Do you really think I’ll let you do that?” It asked, amused. “You got off lightly last time because I wanted you to–”

“I’m sorry, Luna.”

Celestia’s voice was sharp, interrupting her foe with its force and tone. It had a final edge to it, like it was the last thing to be said.

It was. Celestia’s horn glowed white once more, and the Elements around her shimmered. Rainbow light split from each of them, spinning off in wild directions before turning to her horn. Six lines connected at that point, and her eyes went huge and dark.

It was just like the last time, against Discord. Her life spun past her gaze in an instant. Luna was always there, and now–

The instant passed. As if the Elements read her like a book, finding her worthiness and intentions. She could feel her chief feelings – duty and love – clash before one of them rose to the top, yanked forwards by the strange power around her. Before she could see which of the two won, the energy dashed from her horn. The bizarre awareness ended, and the spell had begun.

It was so bright that the colors should have been lost to blinding white, but they were not. An impossible rainbow shot towards Nightmare Moon. She snarled in fear, firing her own blue-green magic in desperate counter.

The powers warred, however briefly. The beams met and held each other, grappling above the shattered palace.

It did not take one second, or ten. But at the fourteenth, the rainbow shot forwards, destroying or consuming Nightmare Moon’s defense. It veered to the side as it reached the night princess, turning to enwrap its target rather than strike.

With the magic released and the beam out of the way, Celestia saw her sister one last time as the rainbow snaked around and around. She was still Nightmare Moon from head to tail, but her expression was one of fear. The fanged mouth was curled in a whimper, the eyes in tears. Both hooves were outstretched, as if desperately hoping Celestia would pull her out.

Celestia couldn’t. And… she wouldn’t. 

Before a word could be said, the encircling rainbow hid Nightmare Moon’s head from view. It formed a perfect sphere around the black-coated alicorn.

What came next wasn’t an explosion, but it felt like one. A shockwave of force and light emerged as the sphere completed, hitting Celestia with the force of a thunderclap. She cried out and tumbled backwards, two of her hoof cups spinning off into the night. The light blinded her, and she lost nearly half her altitude before regaining her senses.

She blinked, and saw she was alone. No rainbows, no Nightmare Moon. Even the Elements of Harmony were tumbling earthwards, as stones do.

Knocked loose in the blast, a third hoofcup slipped off and fell. Celestia gazed skyward, taking no heed.

Above, still low and ominous in the sky, the moon hung. And a giant, cratered mural had been painted upon it.

Luna. Or Nightmare Moon. Or both.

Low as the moon was, the image seemed to tower over Celestia. She was a tiny white speck on its face, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She snapped her gaze away, glaring accusingly to the dark land below. Somewhere, the things that did this had fallen.

“What, do you want to leave a reminder for me?” She asked, a hard sob in her voice. “You needn’t have. I won’t forget this.”

Duty.

Love.

And the day I murdered Luna.









They found Celestia in the throne room, gazing to the moon through the ruined ceiling. Mama Shield led the way, followed a step behind by Star Swirl and Fleur-De-Ancienne.

The Elements of Harmony lay around the Princess, grey and lifeless. Her back was to the newcomers, and she didn’t say a word or spare a look.

They glanced to each other – the commanding wizard, the motherly guard, and the noble fop. They were wordless, with damp eyes and drawn mouths. 

It was, oddly, the ever-suffering Fleur who made the first move. He walked up behind Celestia, clearing his throat and heavily crushing glass beneath his step. When that gained no reaction, he – gently, tenderly – reached a hoof out to touch her shoulder.

When it was halfway there, she turned her head.

There were no tears, nor any sign of them. No telltale stains on the white of her face, nor a hint of redness to the eyes. Celestia locked Fleur with a cool glare, her nosed raised slightly. Her posture was tall, wings folded tightly at her side. A vague, aristocratic frown marked her face.

The crown was gone, but she was every bit as tall and imposing as a sovereign should be. Quietly, Fleur retracted his hoof.

Celestia spoke, terse and stern. “Sir Fleur-De-Ancienne.”

Wrong-hoofed, Fleur snapped to attention. “Oui, my lady?”

“Go to the Lunars,” she said without a lost beat. “The army you just fought. Tell them that Nightmare Moon is gone. She is utterly beaten, and she will not be back. I am prepared to hear their surrender, and will be generous with terms if they give it immediately.”

“Here, let me prove it to them.”

Celestia’s horn glowed, and the sun rose. Across the continent, it was a moment unlike any other. Shouts of joy echoed across the cities and towns, drowning out the angry howl of monsters and nervous grumbles of the rebels. It was a day of salvation, its story to be celebrated in mural and song, and carried forth as a holiday forever after.

For Celestia, it was an interruption.

“And if they don’t surrender to you this morning, tell them they will surrender to me at dusk.”

Fleur’s mouth moved like he was going to speak, but nothing came out. Instead he bowed quickly and spun on a hoof. His departure was fast, delayed only by a second to share a glance with Star Swirl.

Celestia turned, and faced the remaining two. “Star Swirl. Whatever’s left of the army, disperse it. Bring order back to the realm. Send the provincials home to drive out the monsters. Have them protect the food stores and police the roads. We will have a lean winter, but Equestria will live.”

The wizard tilted his head, eyes away. “If there are Lunars who want to help put things back together, can I let them?”

“Yes,” his liege said. Star Swirl nodded and began to turn, though her voice arrested him.

“And Star Swirl?”

“Yes, Princess?”

She licked her lips – the first break in composure since they found her. “Thank you.”

He raised a hoof to her, voice cracking through his habitual grunt. “Princess, I’m sor–”

“Any other questions?” Celestia asked, voice like flint.

A shocked pause, then he sighed. “No. My lady.” Star Swirl bowed, one hoof keeping his hat in place. While Fleur had left with alacrity, Star Swirl moved slowly. He slouched his way out the door, eyes planted to the ground.

Celestia nodded, and turned to the last one. “Shield. I am exhausted, and need to recover in my room. Rouse me in three hours. Or sooner, if you hear the Lunar army won’t surrender.”

The old guard swallowed hard and said nothing, bowing low.

Celestia gave a curt nod and turned, marching through the doorway Star Swirl had blown open. Up two flights of stairs, then two right turns to her room.

The door glowed gold, and slammed shut behind her. Celestia kicked off her last hoof cup and sat down hard on the stool before her vanity.

She looked at the mare in the mirror. Tired, yes, but regal. Strong and imperious. Good. That’s what they would see.

For long minutes she sat there, just taking in her own reflection. Finally, she leaned forward and settled her forehooves on the table, bringing her face inches from the glass.

There they were. A few tears, and a weeping smile to the mouth.

“Well, Tia,” she said, her voice coursed with a sob. “Your sister is gone. She’s gone!”

Celestia planted her head to her forehooves and cried. She breathed in and out in ragged gasps, hiccupping and sobbing and mewling indistinguishable words.

Luna. Gone.

And I killed her! To salve my own stupid conscience, I killed my own sister!

“How could you?” She snarled to her reflection. “You monster! You, you…”

With a growl, Celestia began gnawing at her foreleg. There was pain, but no blood as her blunt teeth bit into the flesh. Her jaws worked up and down violently, chewing to no effect.

The exhausted princess only kept it up for a minute before tearing her mouth away. Limply, but with as much strength as she could manage, she slapped the leg to the vanity desk. Perfume bottles were toppled, and flecks of drool splattered across the woodwork.

She slapped it again, twice more, before draining the energy to do even that. With the last one, she lost her balance and fell from the stool. She curled up there, shaking and mumbling.

Horrible. Necessary.

Luna. Nightmare Moon.

What was left, Luna? What was you?

No answers. She cried, eyes to her forelegs, but did her best to cry quietly. No one could know.

Times would be hard. There would be fanatic holdouts, monster nests, and hungry mouths. The ponies needed someone they could have faith in. A strong leader. They leader they need.

Not the kind of pony who curls up and cries under her vanity. Certainly not.

Celestia hugged herself with her wings, rocking quietly on the floor. Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow she would be the leader they need.

Today… she would just pretend.
> Chapter 3: My Kingdom Come
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silk Pants was a stallion who felt that he wanted little in life. He wanted wealth for his skill and good planning, and this he had in spades. The new capital of Canterlot was exploding in size, and for each stone laid by his company, he took his share. The Royal Treasury even paid for his own office, sitting prominently at the city’s center.

Personal wealth aside, there was just one, tiny request he had of reality: He drew great pleasure from his meals, and wished to enjoy them in peace.

So it was with no small annoyance that the wide, white unicorn looked up from his meal – blue tulips on buttered rye – as a pounding emerged from his door. The handle jiggled, locked from his own side against casual visitors. He was a very important pony, who required appointments from his guests.

The latch jiggled again, followed by more knocks on the door. Silk Pants groaned and took another bite from his sandwich, hoping the unknown solicitor would move on.

No such luck. The rattling and knocking continued at its urgent pace.

Sighing, Silk Pants rose from his desk and waddled to the door. He really should have kept himself on the second floor, with a secretary here to screen such incidents. Secretaries cost so much money, though…

With a blue glow of his horn, the lock released. “You may open it,” he rumbled, pouring as much disapproval into his voice as he could.

The door snapped open in an instant, revealing a bookish unicorn with a grey coat and glasses. He made to leap inside, but Silk Pants’ considerable bulk was blocking the entrance.

The newcomer was sweating and breathing heavily. He looked at the capitalist, fear wild in his eyes. “Let me in! Please! They’re right behind me!”

“Who?” Silk Pants demanded, casting his gaze outwards. No immediate assailant was in sight, though there did seem to be a ruckus across the square.

“The mob,” the grey-coat gasped. Silk Pants looked again – yes, the ruckus did seem to be moving closer, with the odd pitchfork poking out of it. Where citizens of the mountain capital had found pitchforks, he had no idea.

“The guard station is literally right next door,” Silk Pants noted drolly. He would know, he was still owed money for its construction.

“They won’t help me!” The newcomer’s voice was turning to a shriek in panic. “Please, these maniacs have been running me halfway across the city and I can’t…”

Silk Pants was nopony’s fool. “And why is that?” He rumbled, coolly noting the mob drawing closer.

“I-I…” the grey-coat took a sharp breath in and out, closing his eyes for the confession. “I’m a Lunar.”

“Oh, you nitwit!”  Silk Pants snarled, bits of tulip flying from his mouth. “You’re the ‘maniac,’ here!”

“Please, they’ll hang me if they–”

“Just get inside!” Silk Pants roared, stepping aside to let the other through. The newcomer needed no second bidding and, with the mob’s forerunners just twenty meters off, he slammed the door shut.

Grumbling and huffing, Silk Pants clicked the latch-lock shut and pushed in the bolt. He turned, fixing the other with a glare. The tweedy grey unicorn was leaning heavily against the desk, breathing rapidly.

“No time for rest now,” his host grunted. “There’s a big window in the back room. Take my desk and the cabinets back there and block it as best as you can.”

You bloody idiot, Silk Pants mentally added as the intellectual snapped to obey. He winced at the sounds that came forth – his good cabinets, filled with his good china, scratching painfully against his good floor to cover the soon-to-be-broken window.

And then the next round of knocks came – heavier and somehow angrier than the first.

“Appointments only!” He shouted through the door.

It was a deep, angry voice that came in response. “Sir, the pony you let in is a traitor! He’s a Lunar, a traitor to Princess Celestia. We’ll be taking him off your hooves.”

Silk Pants let loose his best, most aristocratic harrumph. “No, sir, you will not.”

There was much indistinct yelling and murmuring on the other side, but a second voice emerged at the doorway. This one, he recognized – the tired, doughty voice of Sergeant Sunrise, the officer who ran the guard post next door.

“Silk,” he groaned, lacking the imposing voice guards are supposed to have. “Either throw him out or let us in. If you don’t, we’re coming in.”

“You are welcome to try,” Silk Pants huffed, and braced his bulk against the door.

They twisted his nice, gold door latch until it snapped, then began pounding in earnest. When that gained no reaction, a few of them began bucking at the door, while others began shouting for a battering ram. The wood groaned and cracked, but was holding up with his support.

The bucking grew half-hearted as its futility became clear. He could hear rocks come through the back window, and pegasi scraping against the barred windows of the upper floors.

Frustrated and furious, the first voice sailed through the door again. “We know who you are, rich boy! There won’t be any hiding after this. We’ll search for you if we need to!”

Silk Pants drew in a deep breath, his pride welling up within him. A threat? Pah! Didn’t they know his grandsire fought in the war?

“A search will not be necessary,” he rumbled back, slow and loud. “I work normal business hours during weekdays, and on the second Saturday of every month until noon. You may find me here at those times, though I insist that you make an appointment first!”









“That was my third win in a row, Princess.” The voice was friendly and light, though gently teasing. “You have to start adapting.”

Two sets of hooves clicked down the hallway at a steady stroll. One was Celestia’s, though it was a rare day that the other needed introduction. Those belonged to Prime Minister Rooke, and one could hardly mistake her for anypony else. She was nearly as tall as her princess, and even more distinctively had a sleek, black coat and thin glasses. She could look quite regal when she chose, though her love of jokes and puns often ruined the effect.

Princess Celestia sniffed at the jibe, though was unable to contain a smile. The weekdays were filled with the endless labor of governance, and their little Saturday chess games worked wonders for her morale. That Rooke had gotten the better of her the last few times… honestly, that just made it more interesting.

Hm. ‘Interesting.’

Celestia bit a lip, casting a lingering glance at her second. To be even more honest… well, there were a lot of things she found interesting about Rooke. But there could be time for that later.

Instead, she warmed to the subject of chess. “Running your knights forward is a fool’s errand,” Celestia said, pausing a moment to nod and smile at a pair of blue-armored guards.

One of the Lunar Guards grinned back broadly, receiving a pointed look from his fellow as the pair bowed. It was odd to consider, but with fifty-odd years now passed, Luna’s former guards had become Celestia’s most loyal.

Luna.

Her smile grew pained, and Celestia forced back the tide of memories. The past was gone. Luna was gone, and there wasn’t any sense thinking about her.

Rooke’s eyes were closed, mouth smirking as she scored another one on her liege. “‘Fool’s errand,’ and ‘dynamic strategy’ are divided only by their success. Given the results, I’d say my battle plan falls under the latter.”

She glanced to Celestia, and the smile vanished. To a stranger, the Princess was as serene as ever. Rooke was no stranger.

“Princess? Are you–”

“Fine,” Celestia said, favoring her friend with an easy lie. “Just wondering what to expect. It’s not often the courts ask me to get involved with a case.”

Rooke shrugged. It was true – Celestia wrote the laws, but left their enforcement to the courts and guards. The noble-born captains and justices tended to enjoy their little empire, and tried not to get her involved. The request that she judge a case meant things had gotten complicated.

Still, Rooke was nothing if not prepared. She glanced to the side as they entered the castle’s legal wing, leaning close to say it softly. “Here’s the short version. Do you know Silk Pants?”

Now Celestia shrugged. She knew hundreds of names, but, “No.”

“He’s not a noble, but he’s richer than most of them,” Rooke continued. “He’s being charged with obstruction of justice and he’s counter-suing, accusing the guards of wrongdoing. It’s messy. It’s pretty clear both sides have been slinging bribes and threats back and forth, and the chief justice finally deferred it to you.”

“So this ‘Silk Pants’ is trying to buy his way out of trouble?” Celestia asked stiffly. If so, this would be a short trial.

Rooke tilted her head. “Well, yes. And a lot of captains and judges are on the other side, trying to buy him into it. See, he was arrested for helping a fugitive escape. But the fugitive wasn’t ‘wanted,’ per se. He was a Lunar, and you know how tricky that makes things.”

Before the doors of the great courtroom, they had to part ways. Rooke would take her own place in a box seat, while Celestia would ascend a few flights of stairs to enter her balcony. Above even the judge’s bench, she would hear the arguments, review the case, and decide how it would end. A bit of an ostentatious way to do things, but maybe that was for the best.

The guards at the stairwell saluted, both offering warm smiles as she greeted them by name. Celestia did not match their faces as she walked past, her own set in a thoughtful frown.

Lunars. Yes, that did make things “tricky.”

They’d be harmless, almost funny, if not for the consternation they caused. Ponies these days heard ‘Lunar’ and assumed the worst. Cultists in black robes, sacrificing virgins to Nightmare Moon.

The modern Lunar couldn’t be further from that image. Nightmare Moon’s religion, such as it was, was dead and gone. These ponies were intellectuals – students and professors who studied the Civil War and noted large gaps in the historical records. They thought it was evidence of conspiracy. Evidence that Celestia had somehow covered up the facts of the time.

They were wrong, and she knew better than anypony. Records were lost not because of some cover-up, but because of fire and war. But they were also harmless. They would have their little noontime protests before the castle, always departing in time for their afternoon classes.

Far more disturbing had been the tendency of others to make violence against them. The fact that they did so in Celestia’s name made it all the worse. She’d ordered the guards to keep the peace, but incidents kept happening.

She allowed herself one quiet sigh before stepping out onto her balcony, smiling gently. Ponies one and all rose from their seats and bowed. Some placed their hoof on their chest and drew a circle – a queer little gesture to indicate their devotion, with the “sun” placed over their heart. Celestia thought little of it.

She also thought little of the defendant, though in a very different way. The white unicorn was very fat, with sweaty, stringy blue hair and drooping moustache. Velvet pants wrapped around his back half, large enough that Celestia fancied she could use them as bed sheets. He wore a fancy blue coat above it, highlighted with a sun-shaped lapel pin.

When Celestia seated herself, so did the crowd. And they would all be seated a good while longer as she reviewed the transcript from earlier hearings. Almost a hundred sheets of paper were stacked at her podium, and she set to it as quick as she could. Another odd tradition – the notes could not leave the court before its conclusion, but she could hardly judge fairly without reviewing them first.

After the first hour of study – the ponies silent beneath her – Celestia mentally vowed that this was one tradition that would die soon. It worked well enough in earlier days, but the law had grown vastly more complicated since.

Things were much as Rooke had summarized. Silk Pants had shielded a Lunar from a mob, and she could hardly take umbrage with him over that. That he helped the Lunar escape guard ponies was another matter entirely.

By the end of the second hour, she was done reading. Celestia looked up, seeing the expectant gazes still upon her. Time to stop wasting their time.

“Are you a Lunar, Silk Pants?” Might as well get the obvious question out of the way first.

“No,” the wide unicorn answered. “Nor do I sympathize with them.”

Celestia gave him only her third-most disapproving glance. “Please explain, then, why you denied Canterlot guards their quarry.”

His head was up, looking back at her with defiant pride. She might need to upgrade to her second-most disapproving look.

“Because I thought it would place the young fool in deathly danger.”

“Do go on,” Celestia said drolly.

“Happily,” he sniffed, earning Celestia’s first-strongest glare. “The guards of my area were aiding the mob as they broke my windows and battered my door. With vandalism going on around them, they threatened me with arrest if I did not let these hooligans into my property. It was a lynch mob, my Princess, and I would have none of it. With rather strong evidence that I could not trust the Guard, I refused to surrender him. When the guards came the next day with spears and warrants, I stalled them so the lad could escape out the back window.”

Celestia eased back her glare, face growing inquisitive. “Why not surrender him then? If it was his safety from mob justice you were concerned for, you could hardly do better than the Guard offices.”

“The prisons?” Silk Pants noted, one eyebrow raised.

There were a few whispers in the crowd against his cheekiness, but Celestia had to hide a smile. It was good to be a little casual with her subjects, even here.

Still, her response was frosty. “The prisons, yes. Where he would be safe and cared for until he is duly tried before a judge.”

“Your Highness, a Lunar before a royal judge…” Silk Pants stoked his weak moustache a moment before finishing. “Well, I would not invest in his chances. Even cheaply.”

“Are you implying this court is corrupt?” Celestia asked, steel in her voice.

“This court? No. The limits of your wisdom – if they exist – have yet to be found.”

Celestia sighed, annoyed at the flattery, as he finished. “But your proxies, your justices? In this matter they are utterly corrupt.”

At that, a dozen ponies in guard outfits and justice robes rose and began shouting him down. Silk Pants shouted back readily, pounding a heavy hoof on his box’s rail. His defense lawyers joined him, as did a pegasus in the public seats.

The court guards did their job, and the angry parties remained separate. Still, it would take several minutes for the screaming match to die down.

Hopefully it would be time enough. Celestia made a discreet signal with her hoof, and Rooke’s sharp eyes caught it. The black unicorn excused herself, quietly left the room, and a minute later had come up the steps to Celestia’s balcony.

“Is it true?” Celestia asked tersely.

Rooke gave a little chuckle. “No. I think we found the limits of your wisdom when you sacrificed your queen to save a bishop last Saturday.”

“About how the courts handle Lunars, dear,” Celestia growled in a voice that, in no uncertain terms, indicated the time for jokes was over.

Taking the cue, her friend dropped the smile and leaned in. “It’s… yes, it’s probably true. If a known Lunar gets tried for anything from jaywalking to cloud poaching, they’re likely to be found guilty regardless of the evidence.”

“Do we not have oversight for the courts?” Celestia asked. “No, don’t tell me, because I know we do. I ordered it myself. It’s the Lunar Guard, and I am very curious why they haven’t done anything about it.”

“They seem to be turning a blind eye.” Rooke shrugged. “They don’t have much fellowship with the Lunars.”

“Aside from the name, you mean?” Celestia said acidly.

Sensing the mood sour even further, Rooke held out what she hoped was a placating hoof. “Princess, the Lunar Guard is very loyal to you. From day one, they learn about how you pardoned their grandsires when the rest of the country wanted them all dead. They see a bunch of smart-mouth students saying bad things about you, they don’t feel much sympathy.”

“Well, I’m glad they love me,” Celestia huffed. “Now if only they loved my laws as well.”

A thought crossed her mind, and she sent a pointed glance to her friend. “If you know all this, why haven’t you done anything? Or told me?”

“I’ve… been investigating.” Rooke’s reply was cautious. “I need more evidence before I can act.”

“I don’t,” Celestia said meaningfully, turning back to the crowd below. She stood patiently, gathering her thoughts, imperiously watching the argument.

Within a minute, ponies began to notice her and the silence began. Individuals fell quiet, then warned those around them to do the same. No pony wanted to be the one who made Princess Celestia wait.

When the last murmur died, Celestia resumed the court as if nothing happened. She leaned over the rail, fixing Silk Pants with a fresh, imperial glare.

“A further question, Silk Pants: Why?”

That seemed to take him off guard. His jowls wobbled as he chewed his tongue, eyes to the side. “‘Why?’”

“Why.” Celestia confirmed it with a nod. “According to the transcripts, you are very close to being ruined. Had you accepted the first court’s ruling, you would have been slapped on the hoof and sent on your way. Instead you fought it. You have spent massive sums of money, and gained a reputation as a sympathizer to the Lunars. Your business has suffered, and you have received many threats to your life. Why take it this far?”

“Because my grandsire fell in Dame Blueblood’s stand,” he rumbled proudly.

What does that have to do with anything? Before Celestia could voice her curiosity, Silk Pants went on with aplomb. “The Pants do not back down from a fight. I find the views of the Lunars reprehensible, but I will not allow one to be beaten or murdered while I might act to prevent it. As to the legal troubles, I again acted as my conscience bid me. My grandsire stood for your laws, and I proudly do so again. Your laws, wise and just, say that a pony may speak his mind freely. I will not meekly accept the ruling of petty, little judges who think they can declare otherwise.”

Celestia kept glaring, musing her next words. She… didn’t quite like that. He made it sound like it was about them being ‘her’ laws. It wasn’t. The laws weren’t made for her own sake, to be enforced because they were her will. They were supposed to be just. She earnestly hoped they were.

“And if my law did not protect this Lunar…?” she asked, an unspoken question in the air.

“My morals would still bid me defend him,” Silk Pants answered, a bit hesitantly. He couldn’t know if this answer was the right one. “I… this would have been murder, Your Highness. To allow it would have shamed my pants.”

The princess almost vanished from sight as she drew back a pace, away from the railing. She didn’t want ponies to see the smile that came to her.

Yes. That was right.

The laws aren’t for me. They’re for you all. Especially you, you glorious tub of goo.

Still, she had far more to do now than when she woke up this morning. Time to bring the session to a close.

Her voice was loud as she returned to the rail, speaking to the crowd. “Given all evidence seen in this and previous sessions, I am very comfortable in dropping the charges against Silk Pants.”

Murmuring began, but silenced as she continued. “I welcome infractions such as these, done to protect ponies from unjust action by those trusted with royal justice. Ponies do not exist to serve the law. The law exists to serve you all.”

The words sparked an immediate, frenzied applause from the public seats. The ponies there whistled and cheered, thrilled that such a statement had come from the highest authority.

This time, Celestia did let herself smile a little before them. She was doubtless setting herself up for many headaches down the road, but this was how it should be. Justice held higher than legality. Goodness held higher than obedience.

Hopefully, it would stick.

No, it would stick. By her own hoof if need be.

Beneath her, the professionals’ response was more muted. A few of the barristers were grumbling to each other with sour looks. Beside her, Celestia could see Rooke massaging her temples. Silk Pants was simply standing with what he fancied was great dignity, too proud to celebrate his victory.

Speaking of which… “However, Silk Pants, you shall be a guest of the castle until further notice.”

That didn’t get the attention of the happy crowds, but it certainly got his. “Royal agents will investigate the death threats you have received,” Celestia continued. “Once they are certain you are in no danger, you will be released.”

“But my business–” he began.

“Is not my concern,” Celestia cut him off, voice and face growing stern. “And it will not save you if a threat proves real. This is for your own good.”

Silk Pants looked sour, almost glaring back up at her. “I am not afraid.”

“And when you are released, you will have no cause to be.” Celestia’s words were prim. Before he could argue further, she announced the end. “We are done.”

That was that. The public crowd and defense lawyers were in good cheer as they exited, gossiping and sending warm looks to where she sat. Silk Pants slouched out with his guard escort, grumbling under his breath.

So were some of the justices and guard officers. Celestia smiled again, this time a very thin one. Let them grumble! Their word wasn’t law. Her’s was.

“Wow,” a pretty voice came from the side.

Next to her, Rooke was shaking her head, disbelieving smile on her face. She had such a nice smile…

When it was a happy smile, anyway. This one wasn’t. “Princess… what are you expecting now?  You just effectively said that all your laws are one big grey area.”

“Is that a bad thing? Ponies shouldn’t be afraid to act on their conscience.” Celestia grinned cheekily, still aglow with self-certainty. Yes, this was the most certain she’s felt about anything in a long time. 

Rooke was far less enthusiastic. “It was judges and guards ‘acting on their conscience’ that started this whole mess.”

“Then I will judge all the Lunar trials from here on,” Celestia shot back. “And the same for anypony else who needs me.”

“Hey, listen to yourself.” Rooke smiled weakly, hooves akimbo. “What, are you going to play judge for every pony with a sob story?”

“Is that so bad?” Celestia said, raising her nose. “Am I too great to be approached? Too high to bother with my own subjects? Should I not do everything I can to ensure fairness for all of them, one at a time if need be?”

Rooke pushed up her glasses, frowning to the side. “Princess, forgive me for saying so, but you already have a full-time job ruling the nation. You already run a Sun Court every Friday, and that fills up quickly as it is. Where are you going to find time to judge more cases?”

“We’ll extend the Sun Court through the evening hours,” Celestia replied deftly. “And carry it into Saturday if need be.”

Rooke bit a lip. “You have tea with the Caesars Friday evenings.”

Celestia’s sniffed. “I think the justice of my nation is more important than tea parties.”

“…And literally every government office is closed on Saturdays,” Rooke finished without a missed beat.

“Excellent. Then those too busy during the week can attend.” Celestia rebounded with a smile.

“And what about our chess matches?”

“Oh, Rooke.” Celestia gave a gentle laugh and settled a wing on her friend’s shoulder. “The Saturday Court will just be the overflow. Whatever didn’t get done the day before. There’ll be plenty of time for my favorite game, with my best friend.”

Puckishly, she nipped Rooke on the ear, to the same effect as always. The prime minister froze, blushed, and stammered, heading off further argument as Celestia strode away.









Celestia did make it to chess that Saturday, but it wasn’t the same.

“Princess?”

“Hm?”

Rooke glanced pensively between the board and Celestia. “You just moved your king into checkmate.”

“Oh.” Celestia looked down to the chessboard, then shrugged. “Oh well. No take-backs.”

A look to the clock confirmed Rooke’s suspicions – the game had taken all of fifteen minutes. Celestia’s mind was far and away in another place.

Rooke would bet her right hoof she knew where. “How’d the Sun Court go?”

The question was met with silence, which surprised her. The prime minister had rather guessed Celestia would be annoyed after a full day with the peasants. Her pronouncement meant that every Jill Pegasus and Joe Earth Pony would be crowding her court, bringing their little grievances in. That she was patient went without saying, but Rooke had figured a few days of dealing with the rabble would wear even Celestia down. 

Instead she looked… sad. Disappointed, even. Like a thing long-expected had been denied. Celestia’s large eyes had narrowed, and dimples creased as her face frowned.

The eyes closed the rest of the way, and the princess sighed. “Not good, Rooke.”

“Well, it was only once,” Rooke replied with cheer, a bit too much hope in her voice.

The quiet response killed her smile. “It won’t only be once.”

Celestia opened her eyes and looked at Rooke, mouth still turned in that thoughtful frown. The friendliness the two so readily shared was gone from those eyes, replaced with a vague, distant look.

“I should have done this years ago,” she said, bitterness entering her voice. “Enough with the silly, neatly-choreographed Sun Court, where I am flattered and pampered by my nobles. This was the real Equestria, Rooke. I talked to a Lunar who was beaten in prison. And not just the Lunars have trouble. Earth Pony farmers, saying pegasi guards steal the clouds if a ‘rain tax’ is not paid. Commoners being bullied out of officer academies, sometimes violently. And that was just what I heard today! Rooke, my ponies are being harmed by my own officials. It won’t go on. I won’t have these petty cliques ruin my nation.”

“Princess…” Rooke was fighting against a humored smile that threatened to breach her face. “Those are minor incidents! A little graft and hazing doesn’t ‘ruin your nation.’ These things happen.”

That was the wrong answer. Celestia’s distant look hardened to a glare in an instant, fixed directly on her chess partner. It wasn’t an angry glare – near as Rooke could tell, Celestia didn’t get angry. Instead this was an imperious, aloof sort of glare. The look she gave when, in her centuries-old wisdom, she found you sorely wanting.

It hurt, more than Rooke would care to admit. But she was right! Crime happened. It simply happened.

“Well it shouldn’t,” Celestia said, in a voice that made it clear she would damn well do something about it.

“A-alright.” Rooke nodded, mind racing. Damage control time, Rooke. “We’ll set up an oversight committee. An, ah, ‘ethics committee’ if you will. Something to reign in these… ‘inadequacies’ in the system.”

“No.”

Celestia would damn well do something, and she knew exactly what.

The princess went on, stern, half-talking to herself. “I already have oversight offices, and they’ve become part of the problem. This won’t be solved by grabbing a fresh batch of Canterlot bureaucrats and letting them lord over the others.”

“Just like with the Lunars.” Celestia was nodding to herself now, certain in her course. “All these crimes committed by my own officials, I’ll see to them myself.”

“Let me set up an investigative committee…” Rooke trailed off, embarrassed how pleading her voice was getting. This whole conversation was setting off warning bells in her mind. Not for her own sake, or even the country’s. But Celestia’s. They were friends, after all.

Celestia raised her nose, frown deepening at the suggestion. “I have committees aplenty, and they’ve failed to ensure justice. If I’m the only one who can judge these cases fairly, then I’m the only one who will judge them at all.”

She lowered her head, once more fixing Rooke with that imperious glare. “Unless, of course, you think abuses by my own guards to be too small a thing for my attention.”

Rooke knew better than to take the bait. Even though Celestia had never baited her before.

Things were changing, and Rooke didn’t like it. “But when would you even do this?” she asked. “Your days are hardly empty as it is.”

“My Sundays are free.”

“Your Sundays are not free!” Rooke squawked the words, then quickly controlled her tone. “That’s when you visit the library, or play cards with the maids. Or just fly around with nopony following you. Sundays are your ‘you’ days.”

She finished with terse worry in her voice. “Princess, this troubles me. Even you need to rest sometime.”

If Celestia noticed the emotion, she gave no sign, and continued primly. “And I will rest far better knowing I am doing right by my ponies.”

She finally saw the grimace on Rooke’s face, and misread it entirely. Celestia disfavored her with a wry smirk, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t worry. We’re still on for next Saturday, if that’s what your concern is.”









Celestia did come the next Saturday, which honestly surprised Rooke. The princess lost, falling for the same tricks as ever, but at least it was a better game than the last.

The week after, Rooke got a lovely, if brief note from her chess partner:



“R.–

The Court will be running late today, probably into the night. If half these allegations are true, Duke Heartstrings will NOT be a duke for long.

Please think of this as a good thing. Ponies are learning that I care more for them than I do traditions and titles.

We’re on for next Saturday, as always.

–C.”









“R.–

Sorry for sending this so late. Sun Court is swamped this week, and not all the cases are clear-cut.

If you like, I think Captain Shimmer plays chess. Maybe she’s around?

–C.”









Celestia didn’t even send a note the following week.

With a month now passed, Rooke was done waiting. She marched to the Legal Wing with resolution, fancying she would drag Celestia out if the princess wouldn’t come.

It wasn’t for her own sake – at least, that’s what Rooke told herself. She could always find more chess partners. Certainly more easily than Celestia could. 

But… she couldn’t find another Celestia. Friends were a lot harder to replace.

The Saturday Court – damn it all – was still in full swing. Crowds were spilling out the doorways, craning their necks to watch the proceedings. Some work ponies in overalls and farmers were in the mix, pressing shoulders with lawyers and students. Rooke held her breath as she walked past.

The guards to Celestia’s balcony had always let Rooke slip in and out at will, but today it took some convincing. They got nervous around crowds, particularly with so many ponies who had no business getting close to the princess.

Well, Rooke certainly had business with her. Personal business, but business still.

Celestia’s back was turned, her body grey in the balcony’s shadow. Even her hair seemed a bit duller than normal. It hung almost unmoving in the air, mute and obedient. She was motionless upon her chair, reading transcripts while the lawyers below debated.

Rooke tiptoed forward with a mischievous smile, wondering if she had actually caught the Celestia unawares.

The illusion ended with two quiet words, from a mouth invisible behind its mane. “Hello, Rooke.”

Made bold by her nervous humor, Rooke leaned in close and impishly whispered in a sing-song voice.

“Do you wanna play a chess game?”

“I’m busy,” Celestia said dully, distracted by her readings. “Ask Captain Shimmer.”

“I don’t want to play with Captain Shimmer, I want to play with you!” Rooke pouted, pursing her lips in an exaggerated duck-face. She tried to lean over in front of Celestia, but a white hoof came up and held her back.

The princess’ face was still hidden with her back turned, voice still uninterested. “I said I’m busy, Rooke. I want to play, too. But it’s not about what I want.”

“You’re Princess Celestia,” Rooke said, and winced. Her voice had a way of cracking when she got to wheedling. “Literally, your word is law. How is it not about what you want?”

Celestia pointed down with her hoof. Rooke leaned over the railing and almost scoffed. On the main podium stood a donkey of all things – brown, humble, and ugly.

“The Duke of Prance has decided he doesn’t want donkeys in his realm anymore,” Celestia said lifelessly, arresting Rooke’s humor. “They’re being chased out of homes and schools. Those who won’t go are imprisoned.”

Next to her, Rooke could only see the tip of the mouth past the multi-hued mane. Celestia’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, then she licked her lips. “Rooke, I… I don’t want to do everything myself. But if you mortals keep–”

She stopped, mouth opening in a sharp gasp as she caught herself. Rooke was startled too, looking back at her sovereign with disbelief.

Celestia didn’t use the word “mortals” like that. Like an insult.

But she did. She just did.

The mouth closed, pressed in a thin line. Finally, Celestia turned to look at her. The face wasn’t stern or commanding. It had no authority, no regal arrogance of an immortal queen.

It was just Celestia. Eyes dull and resigned, not even showing sadness. Faint lines were under them, and the lips beneath were set in the most neutral of expressions.

“Well,” she said, hesitantly, well aware of what she had said and how she said it. “The well-being of my subjects takes priority over chess games, Rooke. I hope you understand.”

Rooke couldn’t argue, of course. But that didn’t mean she had to stop trying. “Another time, then?”

“Certainly,” Celestia said with a vague, meaningless smile.

Rooke wanted to believe it, so she did. She bowed and departed, and Celestia’s head turned limply back to the debate below.









It was… weeks or months later that Rooke tried again. Without any proper weekend, Celestia lost track of time a lot more easily than before. Court work bled into the weekdays, weekday work carried to the weekends, and soon there was little difference between the two.

Even when the courts began to slow, there was always something to do. A reform long-needed, an investigation into corruption, or a change to make the law a little more just. Hundreds, even thousands of lives, changed by alabaster hooves that had not known a day’s rest in… weeks or months. She lost track.

And this, Celestia decided, felt right. There was always a pony who needed her. Always more work to be done to make her land a little fairer, a little kinder. 

The ponies served her. If she didn’t serve them back, how was she any different from Sombra? From Lu… Nightmare Moon?

Locked in such musings at her desk one day, Celestia didn’t notice Rooke until she began to sing. The unicorn was evidently in one of her flightier moods. She was standing in a silly biped fashion, waving her hooves to get Celestia’s attention. When that failed, she began belting the improvised ditty.

“Do you wanna play a chess game?
Come on let’s go and play…”

Celestia raised a hoof to her mouth, giving a polite almost-laugh. “You’ve made your point. But I’ll have to take a rain check. For this week, at least.”









“Do you wanna play a chess game?
Come on let’s go and play
I never see you anymore
Come out the door
It’s like you’ve gone away!”

A gruff, muffled voice followed the first through the closed door. “Ma’am, leave at once! The princess is in a meeting!”

One of the griffon dignitaries coughed, and Celestia grinned awkwardly. “Ahem. Ah, yes. Where were we?”









“Do you wanna play a chess game?
We could do checkers if you like
A vacation is now overdue
The work will wait for you
I think–”

“Rooke, I’m very busy right now,” Celestia cut in sharply. The quill in her magic grip never stopped scratching across its parchment.









“Do you wanna–”

Again, the interruption didn’t break the pace of Celestia’s quill. “Rooke, this was cute at first, but you’re making a fool of yourself. Is there no one else who wants to play with you?”

“Don’t you?” Rooke asked, that annoying crack in her voice coming through.

“Of course,” Celestia said without the slightest warmth. “But this isn’t about me.”

“Then who is it about?” Rooke didn’t snap the words, but she almost did.

A slight, hmph sounded from Celestia’s throat as she peered close at her parchment. “Right now, it’s about protecting settler ponies from speculators who know how to game the system.”

Rooke sighed. “Tia, I’m worried about you.”

The response sounded bored, and the quill never stopped moving. “I’m a princess in a castle, with all my wants and needs attended to. Your worry is appreciated, but misplaced. Now if there isn’t anything else…”

Rooke opened her mouth, and slowly closed it. With a half-hearted bow, she slunk to the doorway.

“Oh, Rooke?”

“Yes?” Rooke responded, not even hoping for much.

Scratch, scratch. The quill kept writing, even as Celestia gave her a single glance.

“Please do not call me ‘Tia.’”

Rooke bowed again, though it was more akin to a head sinking to the floor. “Of course, Princess. My apologies.”

Celestia just grunted an acknowledgement, attention back on her work.









Time passed.

And the times, now, were hard. Celestia had celebrated with the rest of the nation when Canterlot was finally completed. And she, along with her ponies, was blindsided by what came next. With no more great projects to support them, construction and quarry firms were going belly-up across the country. Thousands were out of work. The treasury was all but empty, the bit was losing value, and it seemed set to get worse before it got better.

But ponies were pulling together, helping each other through the tough times. Celestia would do the same. It mattered not that her castle was grand, and her belly full. Poor though they were, the ponies outside still held their loyalty to her. She would deserve that loyalty.

The ministers had formed a finance committee to deal with the crisis. In the space of weeks, Celestia had replaced it with her own labor. Too much was at stake to let the bureaucrats play their games. 

Desk high with papers, Celestia scratched frantically with quill and ink, trying to make the numbers fit. It was late, yet so much remained to do. A chance glance up and she noticed Rooke, standing before her in the candlelight.

No song and dance, now. Just Rooke, with a patient little smile on her face.

“Rooke,” Celestia shook her head. “It’s a bad time. I’m far too busy right now.”

Rooke’s smile grew pained, and she nodded. “I know. But please, this is important. I…”

She shook her head, laughed instead of cried, and went on. “I’m retiring. I came to say goodbye.”

That got Celestia’s notice. She looked up sharply, this time paying attention.

Rooke had gotten old. Not terribly old, but made so by sickness. She was still tall, but it was skin and bones, with mane hanging thin and limp down her neck. Lines ran across her cheeks, and her beautiful black coat now had a grey pallor to it.

Her wanly-smiling face was the worst of all. Rooke’s eyes were yellow and puffy, and her teeth stretched too far past their anemic gums. 

Celestia blinked, looking up with almost stupid incomprehension. It couldn’t have been that long. Could it?

“…Rooke?” She asked tenderly, emotion bubbling up in her voice. “I… why…?”

“‘Why now?’” Rooke’s quiet smile remained. “I meant to retire years ago, but with this economy there was always so much to do. There still is, I know, but I just can’t keep up anymore.”

She gave a breathless little laugh. “You set a hard pace to follow.”

“Then why did you follow me?!” Celestia all but shrieked. No, Rooke was her only friend! She couldn’t just–

“What can I say?” Rooke laughed. “You’re an inspiration. Now, I’m going to check into the hospital before it’s really too late. And… I guess I’m hoping you could visit me there? Just once or twice, before–”

Don’t finish that! “Of course, Rooke.” Celestia swept out of her chair and embraced the far-younger mare with her forehooves. She swallowed hard, fighting down her own tears.

It was Rooke who broke the contact, sooner than her princess would have guessed. The old friend gave a shaky bow, and departed to the darkened halls without another word.













A few of the older guards spoke of Celestia like a friend. They claimed she knew their names, blessed their children, and cheered their sports in earlier days.

Stern Glare was a young guard, and couldn’t say the truth of it. Claiming friendship with Celestia seemed like an idle boast, from old throats born well after the last war. She was always polite, and he was more than willing to believe her good intentions. But befriending no-name guards like himself? He’d been here three years, and had never seen anything of the sort.

Truth be told, that suited him just fine. Stern Glare didn’t like talking in the first place, much less to the pony in charge of everything. He would speak with Celestia maybe a dozen times during his career. Each was nothing more than a polite exchange between princess and guard.

Except for one.

Nopony would ever know. He didn’t gossip, not even in his later years. About that time he came to her at her desk, message in mind and lump in throat.

Celestia always kept her office open, sparing messengers awkward knocks at the door. Stern had peered inside, and at first glance all was normal. Her long neck was hunched over her gilded desk, as she was wont to when concentrating.

He coughed politely, and her head shot up. He saw the difference, then – the first time he ever saw her composure frayed, and it would be the last. Celestia’s face was caught in a grimace, and her eyes were loaded with tears that hadn’t quite fallen. Her throat bobbed as they locked eyes.

Stern Glare immediately looked away, eyes turning down. There was a card on her desk, distinctive in that it was colored black with white lettering. It was an invitation to a funeral, for somepony named… it began with an “R.” Celestia’s hoof was on the card, obscuring the rest.

Tongue tied, Stern Glare shifted awkwardly at the doorway, wondering whether to leave at once.

Celestia solved the conundrum in less than a second. “Yes, my guard?”

He looked back to her. Celestia’s endless smile had replaced the grimace, and the eyes were blinked clear. Had he not seen her a second ago, everything would have seemed normal.

“The Donkey Patriarch is here,” Stern managed, uncertainty still quivering his voice. He rambled on, unsure when to stop. “Er, nothing too important. That is, today’s the tenth anniversary of the Equality Decree, and he came here with a gift to thank you. I think it’s a big deal for them. The donkeys, I mean. Not important. Well, important to him, but I can ask him to wait if you like.”

“Not at all,” Celestia said, so calmly it felt surreal in light of what he just saw. “Please bring him to my throne room. I’ll be there shortly.”

He bowed quickly and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Stern resumed his stance at once, nervous at the attention.

Celestia paused a moment before continuing, eyes on the little black paper in front of her. She bit her lip and glanced up to him, though quickly lowered her gaze again. “May I ask you a question?”

What could he say, but “Of course, Princess.”

“Have you been to a funeral before?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” Stern Glare felt his tension ease, just a little bit. Sad news aside, it was good to be reminded Celestia wasn’t made of plaster.

Again, she paused a moment before speaking. “Are they done for the sake of the living, or the dead?”

It was good that her gaze was still down, else she’d have seen Stern’s wince. Philosophy? Have pity, Princess, I’m just a guard!

Prudence bid him give a canned ‘I don’t know, Your Highness.’ But he asked a question instead, made a bit bold by Celestia’s uncertainty. No mortal quite knew the depth of her knowledge, and he wondered as much as any of them…

“Is there a life after death, Your Highness?”

The age-old question. Some ponies believed the wicked dead went to Tartarus, alongside the monsters of old, while the good went to some paradise. The question surely burned in every breast, and Stern couldn’t quite suppress a thrill of excitement at perhaps learning from Celestia.

He would be disappointed, but not greatly surprised. The princess looked at him and smiled, just a little bit. “I’m certain I don’t know.”

It had been worth a try, and allowed Stern to answer with conviction. “Then it is my humble opinion that funerals are for the living. They are a chance to mourn openly, for friends and family to find closure. Was…”

He gestured awkwardly with a hoof. “Was that pony close to you?”

Another measured hesitation as Celestia’s gaze drifted back to the letter.

“No,” she said softly, eyes dry. “She was, some years ago. But I hadn’t seen her in a long time.”

Stern nodded, taking the initiative in the conversation. “If it pleases you, My Princess, allow me to see the date and I will ensure a chariot is ready for you then.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said, giving him another quiet smile. “But that won’t be necessary.”

“You’re right, of course. Funerals are for the living.” She swallowed and slowly, almost tenderly, swept the invitation from her desk. The black paper fluttered and wagged in the air, slowing its descent to the waste basket.

She gave a sigh, short and sharp. “And the living, I think, need my attention more than the dead.”

Stern lingered, mouth working without noise. That… wasn’t quite what he meant. Did she misunderstand? Maybe he should–

Celestia’s eyes flitted back to him, however briefly. “Please thank the Patriarch for his patience. Bring him to the throne room.”

It was an unspoken dismissal. His guard training snapped to the fore, and he bowed. “At once, Your Highness.”

Only when he was out of sight did he hesitate, wondering. Maybe he should have encouraged her, or asked about the pony named “R.” But the thoughts didn’t slow him as he walked down the hallway, nor could anypony see them through his guardpony’s glare.

When he next spoke to Celestia, years later, all felt right with her. The same occurred when they spoke the next time, and the doubts faded from Stern Glare’s mind. Looking back, he even chided himself for worrying so.

After all, she seemed to get on well enough.
> Chapter 4: Plaster Saint
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t bury anything:
Men or nations
Old memories
Old vibrations
The pain doesn’t stop
Just because the killing’s ceased.”

-Lyrics from Homeland, by John Hiatt





A long time ago, Celestia read that every pony dreamed of Tartarus at least once in their lives. She couldn’t say whether this was true, but she did dream of it herself one night.

Her vision was a classic one. She stood on an obsidian plateau, overlooking a wasteland of capering demons, flaming rivers, and cages filled with the damned. Screams and the cracks of whips could be heard, but only distantly so. This plateau was high above all that, and was the last hope of those who came. For here the great demon judge held his court, deciding who truly deserved the torment that waited below.

The judge was huge. Even in her observer’s booth some distance away, Celestia had to look up to see his face. He was bipedal, with an engulfing black cloak that left only his face and hands visible. Both were blue-furred, and a heavy black hammer was clutched in his left claw. Two curling white horns came from his forehead, and white whiskers formed a small beard on his chin.

Paradoxically, though lesser imps jeered around him, the judge’s face was devoid of joy. If he took any pleasure in his condemnations, he gave no sign.

Caught by the judge’s massive form, it was only slowly that Celestia noticed the defendant before him. It was a unicorn – middle-aged and strong, though withered from ill-treatment. Black, shoulder-length hair hung in a mess behind him. His coloration was grey, his eyes red, and his demeanor one of stern defiance.

Celestia leaned forward, eyes widening.

Sombra. It was Sombra. Not the monster she and Luna killed in the far North, but the old Sombra. Sombra with the cynical wit and rare smile. Sombra who never seemed to get nervous, but who scratched at his nose when he was. Just like now.

Sombra who she loved. And maybe, he had loved her back.

“King Sombra,” the judge boomed lowly, scattering Celestia’s thoughts. The voice itself had power, a constant reminder that it held the keys of damnation.

“Do you have any final words, before your Judgment?”

“Yes,” the dead king said, fully possessing his careful wit of old. “You have presented my sins, but you have also presented the sins of another. The atrocities committed in my last years were done in my name, yet not done by me. I was possessed by dark magic and not in control of my actions.”

“Noted,” the great fiend rumbled, giving no sign of agreement or dissent. “Are you prepared for Judgment?”

Sombra squared his shoulders, standing as regally as he could. He nodded.

Celestia held her breath. The judge raised his black gavel, intoning lowly:



“I condemn thee,
Sinner,
To the Flames Unending.”



The gavel came down, hitting its block with a thum every bit as loud and final as the judge’s words.

Celestia watched, dumbstruck. Sombra’s head tilted downwards, a sigh escaping his body.

Then the head came up again, higher than ever – regal, arrogant, defiant to the end. 

“So this is Justice,” he sneered. And he spat at the imps as they threw chains around him.

Sombra sat down, spitefully forcing them to drag his weight. As they neared the lip of the plateau, he stood and turned, briefly resisting the pull of the chains.

It was impossible to tell the distance, but his eyes met with Celestia’s. No words, nor any real sign of recognition. He just shrugged, giving a sardonic smile. The action unbalanced him against the chains, and he was swiftly yanked out of sight.









Celestia gasped and awoke. It was 4:28 in the morning. Coincidentally, two minutes before her alarm would ring.

Reaching over a shaking hoof, she clicked off the device. She was sweating, trembling, and panting with a parched throat.

It took a conscious effort, but Celestia closed her mouth. She worked up a little saliva and swallowed, easing the prickly thirst.

She scrunched her eyes closed, trying to force her hammering heart back to its normal rhythm. The maids had standing orders to wake her at 5 o’clock if she wasn’t roused. She had to be in control by then. The Princess of Equestria did not get shaken by bad dreams, and that’s all this was.

A bad dream. Nothing more.

She shakily sat up, magically seizing the water glass on her nightstand. Several sips, and she felt better. 

Just a dream.

It was a guilty thought, but in a way the dream was comforting. It was good to think that the old Sombra was innocent. She had never learned the truth: if he willfully betrayed her, or was manipulated by a darker power.

“Heh. Just like Luna.” Celestia smiled weakly and took another sip. “I seem to have that effect on ponies.”

She shrugged, blinking the bleariness from her eyes. 4:34. The dream’s shock was fading, and it was time to get up. Celestia hoisted herself from the bed and stretched. Her wings were sore this morning – small wonder, as it had been months since she’d flown.

The balcony lay outside, tantalizingly visible through a glass door. She smiled at it, but shook her head. First, a few hours of work. Then to the Dawn Tower to raise the sun. Then… well, whatever came next. She could always fly another day.









Tuteur was a guard – very white, very blonde, and as his co-workers would note, “very Prench.” A unicorn fond of reminding others that Prance was the greatest province in Equestria. For its culture, its chivalrous traditions, and certainly for its homogenous population of unicorns. If they didn’t like hearing it, that was too bad.

The attitude left him with few friends, so his assignment with O’Whammy was accepted with more cheer than he’d ever admit. The big, chatty girl with the Baltimare accent had a bit of arrogance herself: For her rough-and-tumble city, and the strength of earth ponies. Their initial rivalry had turned to a querulous friendship. 

And like many friendships, the relationship was marked by copious amounts of gossip.

“What did you call it? A… ‘Prime Minister?’” Tuteur sniffed, glancing aside as they patrolled the halls. “You’re making that up.”

O’Whammy huffed, stomping one of her wide, yellow hooves to the ground. “It’s true! Canterlot use’ta have this job where an elected noble did lot’sa smart-pony jobs. Helped run the country, an’ deal with foreigners an’ stuff.”

Tuteur’s face remained doubtful. “Ridiculous. Princess Celestia does all that. Why pay somepony to do the same?”

“I Dunno,” O’Whammy shrugged. “It’s the Sun’s Truth, though. Maybe the Princess use’ta be a lot busier, so she needed somepony ta help out. T’ain’t like she–”

The pair rounded a corner quickly, eliciting a gasp from a pony coming in the opposite direction. Tall, clumsy O’Whammy almost skidded on the carpet, narrowly evading a collision with the white alicorn before them.

Princess Celestia. And they were very much within her personal space.

The guards wasted no time, backing off and bowing low with apologies bubbling from their lips.

“Just an accident, dear guards.” Celestia gave them a distracted smile and moved on quickly, not even acknowledging their pleas. “Think nothing of it.”

They kept their heads low, not even peeking upwards until certain she had moved on. Finally they did look, and, seeing no princess, shakily rose to their hooves.

“Well,” Tuteur managed, accepting a balancing hoof from his friend. “That scared a year out of me, I think.”

“A year outta you?!” O’Whammy looked to where Celestia had receded, fear in her eyes. “I almost crashed right in’ta her! If I did, it woulda been ‘bam!’ Right ta the moon with me.”

Tuteur blinked, smiling weakly at her. “Right to the what? Now you’re really making things up.”

O’Whammy shook her head, utterly convinced. “No I’m not! Sergeant Stabs heard it from Stern Glare before the old man passed. That’s why we’ve been at peace for so long. The griffons an’ such know that if they make trouble with her, they get ta see what the Mare in the Moon looks like up close. Same goes fer any ponies that cross her line.”

“Stabs was a mad old coot,” Tuteur huffed. But he shivered, looking off. They did almost ram Princess Celestia. He doubted O’Whammy was right, but… he didn’t really know that she was wrong, either.

“Let’s just be more careful in the future,” he said.

“Should watch the gossip, too.” O’Whammy nodded in assent. “She probably don’t cotton to guards flapping their gums about her. Who knows what she might take offense at, or when she’s listening?”









Celestia, in fact, was listening – standing just around the corner, arrested by vague uncertainty over how she treated them. She had been a little brusque, but she was in a hurry, and told them not to mind. Wasn’t that enough?

Apparently not. She frowned pensively, biting her hoof and glaring at the crème-colored wall. Do they really think I send ponies to the moon?

…Do they think that’s where Luna is?

That, at least, was a nicer thought. Maybe the Elements just imprisoned Luna, keeping her safe until the time was right. Like that “thousand year” prophecy from Nostradamare. Celestia put little stock in such ramblings, but maybe it was better to believe the old prophet’s words than that Luna was… gone…

Her frown deepened. I didn’t have a choice.

I think.

She sighed and shook her head, forcing her mind back to the now. She really should talk with those guards. Let them know she wasn’t much for over-the-top punishments. 

Another time, though. There was time later. Now, there was a stranger in the throne room who shouldn’t be kept waiting.









The stranger, as it happened, may have been happier to avoid an audience. It was a griffon noble, but a mere courier. He had planned to simply make his delivery and leave, unaware that Celestia handled all foreign visitors personally.

He acted well, bowing with grace and greeting her in perfect Equish. He had come merely in his role as messenger, to present a package for Princess Celestia. That her precious time had been taken to greet him was clearly a mistake, and he apologized for it. Several times.

The acting was good, but there were tells. The feathers along his neck and shoulders were rising with his fear. His voice stuttered, imperceptibly at first. But as Celestia made friendly talk with him, he began stumbling over words. The stutters made him even more self-conscious, which worsened them until he could barely produce a sentence. Celestia tried to gently coax him out of it, but every word she uttered only seemed to push the poor griffon further over the edge.

“Good sir,” she finally asked, an edge of pleading in her voice. “What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

The courier’s beak caught on his tongue as he stuttered, eliciting a squawk. “M-m-m-me! Leave! P-p-plth-please!”

She nodded and gestured to the entrance, anxious for the unlucky griffon’s well-being. He bowed gratefully and retreated, beak clamped shut and face red.

Celestia leaned back into her throne, eyes skyward.

He was just embarrassed by his stutter, the poor boy. That’s all. He had no reason to be scared of me personally.

Right?

She sighed, and shook her head. The awkward encounter had left her with his delivery, resting where he had stood. One of the guards moved to pick it up, but her magic beat him there. A yellow aura encased the gift, and she brought it closer for inspection.

Inside the bulky, humble satchel was a box, and the box was certainly the more valuable. It was round and flat, the likes of which might come from a hat store.

Celestia turned it around with her magic, deciding that it would have to be one opulent hat store for a box like this. Gold – real gold – was stylized into it, creating vistas of mountains and clouds. A purple silk ribbon bound the lid to the base, with a sealed letter slid beneath its bow.

For all her growing social naiveté, Celestia retained a total knowledge of the noble houses. Pulling out the envelope, she recognized the seal immediately: a feather-and-shield insignia of the Greyfeather griffon clan. They tended to be short and open-minded, so much so that several had wooed and married ponies.

The last thought made her smile, and brought a little heat to her cheeks. A Greyfeather noble had clearly spent good coin on this gift, and must have done so for a reason. If this was an aspiring suitor… well, Celestia was no blushing filly. But her last lover was Sombra, centuries ago. It had been too long. 

Her smile grew as she admired the gold designs, letting her mind drift into fantasy.

A young, daredevil griffon, scoffing at those who said Celestia was out of his league. Rather than old, the grey feathers of his namesake just made him look dignified. He acted dignified, too… until the time was right. Then the prank would spring, or he’d steal a kiss. She never quite knew how serious he was, and she loved it. Even unto old age, he was a bolt of joyful uncertainty in her all-too predictable life. And when he finally passed, he would remain in her memories. A beautiful reminder that there was more to life than governance and paperwork…

Her smile turned wry. Of course it wouldn’t be so perfect. He wouldn’t be a fairy tale prince, just as she was doubtless less interesting than he may believe. He might be ugly, temperamental, or worst of all, subservient.

For the first time in many years, Celestia gave a girlish giggle as she broke the letter’s seal. Let him be ugly! Let him be foolish! All ponies had flaws, and she would love him all the more for them.

She opened the letter, eyes scanning the spidery claw-writing within. Her anticipating smile… slowly fell.



“To the Illustrious Princess Celestia,
Monarch of all Equestria,
Liberator of the North,
Hammer of Discord,
Bringer of Day,
With whose Hoof the Oppressed are Raised, 
The Needy are Fed, 
And the Welfare of all Generations Secured:


I, Hetman Julius Greyfeather, your humble servant, deliver to you my respectful greetings and admiration. I say to you that your new welfare law is an inspiration to all griffons who look kindly upon their neighbors. And yet, it marks only the latest in the list of great deeds you have done.

Unfortunately, it has reached my attention that some griffons do not share this sentiment. I am told that in many common pubs and noble courts (not MY court, I assure you) you are the subject of jest and ridicule for your so-called “soft” rule.

Thus, I have considered you may have heard – or will soon hear – of their disrespect. Allow my letter to stay your wrath against my small-minded kin, and serve as symbol of the affection we griffons feel for you. Please know that such spiteful maligning of your character is unlawful in my holdings, and I shall encourage my peers to follow suit.

Sadly, the words of mortals are cheap, and a being such as yourself must doubtless endure idle flattery. My gift is given freely, to lend conviction to my words. May you look on it and think of us griffons kindly, and ignore the antics of my wayward kin.


Yours, Body and Soul,

Hetman Julius Greyfeather”



Celestia blinked. She reread the letter slowly, chewing on her tongue.

It was an expression of devotion, certainly, but hardly an amorous one. She frowned, letting the fantasies vanish from her mind.

This Greyfeather had so many things wrong! “Wrath?” She couldn’t care less what the griffons said of her, so long as things remained peaceful. She certainly didn’t want their talk to be unlawful. After so many headaches making sure her own ponies could speak without fear, would she have to start all over with the griffons?

No.

She closed her eyes, drawing back from the thought. Celestia resolved long ago to not coerce other nations, whatever the intention. Terrible things lay down that road. The griffons would have to figure this out themselves, for better or worse.

Celestia opened her eyes, and the still-wrapped gift remained before her. She was more than half-tempted to let it be… but no, that would be rude. She would at least have to look, in case the Hetman inquired about it later.

A gentle tug of magic, and the ribbon came off. Celestia lifted up the lid and saw the interior to be packed with feathers. She cocked her head, unsure for a moment before recalling the griffons used them to pad fragile goods.

Celestia replaced the lid and set the box aside. No point making a mess in the throne room. She turned to the minister by her throne – a weathered old matriarch she never caught the name of.

“The education committee is next, correct? Please send them in.”

“As you wish, Princess,” the mare replied dutifully, and moved to comply.









That evening, alone in her room, Celestia returned her attention to the box. Whatever it contained, she resolved to write to the Hetman and make clear her thoughts of his oppression. That was the only word she had for it – a lord telling his people what they could and could not say.

She meant to do it today, but there had been too much to do. Wrapping things up with the sea ponies went faster than expected, but that just meant an hour was spared to review cases for the weekend courts. Perhaps she’d write him tomorrow, instead.

At any rate, the box. Celestia pulled off the lid once more and began gently removing feathers, placing each clump into her waste basket. Soon, the topmost part became visible: a rod of some sort, protruding up at an angle. When enough was uncovered she simply picked up the object and lifted it from the remaining feathers.

It was a foot-tall statue, not including the raised spear. It took Celestia a bare glance too decide she liked it even less than the letter.

The statue was plaster, with abundant gold inlays providing details and highlights. Celestia looked upon a miniature version of herself, made with nigh-perfect craftsmanship. She was rearing back with wings spread, and gold halo surrounding her mane. The “rod” was a golden spear worked cunningly into the statue, guided by its right hoof downwards.

At the base of the statue, the spear was plunging into her defeated foe: a bleeding, snarling Nightmare Moon.

Celestia’s curious frown turned to a glower. Hetman Greyfeather obviously didn’t know about Luna, but to say this was in “poor taste” would be a tremendous understatement.

“Damn, Tia!” Something laughed.

She startled at the familiar voice. Eyes wide, Celestia snapped her head up. In the dresser mirror she saw herself, sitting on her bed with the statue between her hooves. 

She was alone… yet in the mirror, grinning, Nightmare Moon sat by her side.

“Do you think he knows we’re sisters?” Nightmare Moon laughed again. “I don’t think he knows. That’d just be rude.”

“What are you doing here?!” Celestia snapped. She glanced to her side – nothing, of course. She looked back to the mirror and… also nothing. Just her and her room, and nopony else.

Her eyes went back and forth a few times, blinking hard. She got up, strode to the vanity, and peered closer. 

Just a mirror, doing everything a mirror should do. No Nightmare Moon. No voice.

“I’m tired,” Celestia announced, more to give explanation than anything else. She shook her head, looked once more to be sure, and turned away. She placed the statue on one of her shelves, not even watching as she did so.

When she did look, she saw that it was set at an odd angle, half-turned towards the wall.

Celestia eyed it for a moment longer. She gave her hoof a few nibbles, taking in the details a second time.

Then, with her other hoof, she reached up and turned the statue, rotating it to completely face the wall.

Satisfied, Celestia gave a deft nod and climbed into bed.









When Celestia next dreamed of Tartarus, some years had passed. Maybe decades, maybe centuries.

It was funny: her daily schedule was planned to the minute, but she was having a harder and harder time keeping track of the years. They were much the same. A parade of faces, bringing papers to sign, laws to reform, and one crisis after another to manage. She had no idea how long it had been since she stood here, watching the great demon judge on his high plateau.

For a moment, it was a good dream. She came at the end of long-dead Silk Pants’ trial, and things went well. Ignoring the booing of lesser demons, the judge ruled the good he had done outweighed his greed and gluttony. The stallion vanished from sight, and the next defendant was called for.

Celestia gasped, almost shocked awake as she saw it. The blue alicorn was being made to walk forward, led from a chain around her neck.

Luna. Just like Sombra, it was Luna as she should be. With blue coat and kind eyes, now looking around as though lost.

Celestia tried to call out to her, but no sound came. She tried to leap from her booth, but some force held her in place.

Luna!

Luna!

LUNA!

She could only think it, and desperately reached out her hoof as Luna’s sins were tallied. The judge began reading the names of every pony that died in their short civil war…

No, you monster! Nightmare Moon! It was all Nightmare Moon, not Luna! Why do you keep listing things done by Nightmare Moon?

I’m as responsible as she is! Judge me! Look at me!

Finally, As Celestia stopped trying to speak and began to scream, her voice was heard. All that emerged was a mad, panicked neighing, like the prehistoric almost-ponies who once walked the land.

“Princess Luna,” the judge boomed, just as he did with Sombra. “Do you have any final words, before your Judgment?”

Luna’s mouth was gaping, and she gazed around her with wild eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t remember dying, and I don’t remember all these things you say I did. What’s going on? Where am I? Where’s Tia?”

Here! I’m here, Luna! But Celestia could only give her wordless neighs.

“Noted,” the judge said, ignoring their desperation. “Are you prepared for Judgment?”

“What?” Luna reared back, as far as her chain would allow. “No!”

It didn’t matter. The demon raised his black hammer high, intoning stoically.



“I condemn thee…”

No, no, no! Luna! Don’t do this to her!

“Sinner…”

Don’t  you dare. Don’t you dare!

“To the Flames Unending.”



The hammer came down. Celestia reared back and neighed shrilly, beyond all thought. The mad cries mingled with her sister’s screams as they dragged her to the Hellfire below.









A dream.

Just a dream.

Celestia lay shivering in bed, eyes wide, mouth chewing hard on her foreleg.

Her eyes darted to the clock. 4:52. The maids would come in eight minutes. She had until then to be in control.

But could she, this time? Her shivering only increased as she considered the dream.

Luna, I’m so sorry.

It wasn’t Luna. It was just a dream. Just a dream…

Celestia pulled her head back and eyed the leg, noting the tooth marks on it. That was a bad habit. A weakness. She needed to control it. But she couldn’t. She opened her mouth again…

A queer thought hit her mind, and she gave a grim laugh. At least it made her stop chewing. The shaking was slowing, too. She rolled hard onto her back and thrust the hoof upwards.

The new thought took root, and she smiled without humor. It wasn’t a pleasant notion, certainly, but it helped her reclaim control. She’d be ready when the maids came.

I’ve killed – murdered – thousands. More than Sombra, and certainly more than Luna. I betrayed Luna, condemning her to a fate I might never know.

She slowly settled the hoof down, still gazing upwards.

I’d best hope there’s no “final judgment.” It wouldn’t end any better for me.
> Chapter 5: A Dimming, Cooling Sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“One must pay dearly for immortality. One must die many times while one is still alive.”

–Friedrich Nietzsche, German Philosopher



It was discomfiting, feeling the time vanish with increasing speed. Celestia kept looking up from her work to see familiar faces aged or gone. All those lives, all those little moments with her ponies, were like a running stream. She held still, and they moved on. There wasn’t even time to meet them properly.

That was okay. Celestia lived in her own world of bureaucracy and law. It was her place. She was content in it. No lover since Sombra, no friend since Rooke, and it was harder and harder to care. Close bonds meant uncertainty in her ordered life. They would disrupt her rule, and that was a thing Equestria didn’t need.

No, better to watch the ponies from afar. Getting close… hurt.

It happened, now and then, and never the same way twice. Unwanted cares and doubts, always as a result of growing too close to a single one of them.

Today, it came during one of her visits to Canterlot Hospital. Such were usually choreographed affairs, with her meeting a hoof-full of patients chosen for their good attitude and connections.

The round of shallow well-wishing went as planned, but an unscheduled pair managed to slip past the guards. Two mud-brown unicorns. Common servants. The guards moved to pull them back, but a nod from Celestia overruled.

“Please, Princess, come see my daughter.” The wife’s voice was choked with emotion. Her homely mate rubbed her shoulder with a comforting hoof, his own face in silent tears.

“Her name’s Sunbeam – because she lit up our lives, Your Highness – and she doesn’t have long. The doctors say tomorrow, if even that.”

The poor mare swallowed hard, her voice breaking. “Please see her? She always looked up to you, and I want to give her this. Just for a few moments.”

Celestia had a full schedule. Her guard captain opened his mouth, beginning to tell them she was far too busy.

He got out half a sentence before seeing the deathly glare from his Princess. No. She was most assuredly not too busy for this. Leaving the mourning parents outside, Celestia entered the child’s room. 

She didn’t flinch at the sight, though most ponies would have. It was the blackblood disease: Incurable, awful. Thick black veins crisscrossed Sunbeam’s body, bulging above her creamy brown coat. They were clustered so densely across her face that the girl looked like a monster. Yet even so, traces of her mother’s lipstick remained on the cheeks and lips.

The thickening blood vessels had made her eyes protrude, and robbed them of sight. But somehow they still lit up when Celestia quietly said, “Hello.”

“Printheth Thelethia!” The child’s response was enthusiastic, though clumsy and lisping. Speech was hard on her swollen tongue, leaving Celestia to do the talking.

The princess opened her mouth for the usual bland encouragement, but nothing emerged. What should she say, with Death standing at the bedside? She knew, once. She embraced Star Swirl in the wizard’s last moments, and comforted Caesar at his deathbed. But somewhere along the way, Celestia forgot how.

Soldiering on, she half-mumbled trite words of encouragement. Things may get better. Don’t give up hope. Miracles happen.

They sounded so hollow, even in her own ears. Even to the filly. As Celestia stumbled from one line to the next, the child’s face fell. Brackish tears began running from the unseeing eyes.

Celestia caught herself, panic rising. She was here to give comfort! Not worsen the misery. But how?

She removed a hoofcup and began rubbing the filly’s shoulder, gently stroking the withered muscles. The silent tears went on as Celestia grasped for words.

Finally she found them: unscripted, uncertain, but all she could think to ask. “Are you scared?”

Sunbeam hiccupped and nodded.

“Please, please don’t be.” Celestia leaned in, gripping the child. “It’s…” 

Her voice was quiet, though shrill and cracked. Celestia breathed softly, feeling the tears well up within her. “It’ll be alright. It’s not scary, it won’t hurt. It’ll feel like you’re sleeping.”

“I don’t wanna thleep,” Sunbeam whimpered back. “I wanna play.”

Celestia bit her lip hard and looked away. She breathed in sobs, but kept them shallow, desperate to hide them. Her hoof continued gently rubbing the shoulder, giving no sign of the tremble striking the rest of her body. She pressed the other forehoof to her mouth, biting the chilly gold of her hoofcup. 

If only she stayed in this morning, she'd be safe behind her desk: writing letters, stamping bills, and blissfully unaware. But now she was trapped.

“Hush, now. Don’t cry.” Ignoring her own tears, keeping her voice as calm as she could, Celestia wiped the child’s eyes. “You’ll be asleep because you’ll be tired. Do you want to know what happens after you wake up?”

Sunbeam blinked her swollen eyes. Curiosity replaced sadness on her face, and she seemed to look to the princess to continue.

Celestia gave a soundless sigh, and did so. She spun a wonderful story of how Sunbeam would wake up in a place above the clouds. The illness would be left behind, and she could play with the other children to her heart’s content. She would meet her ancestors, and help take care of the pets that were there. There would be big, golden telescopes she could use to watch over her parents. And when the time came, she’d be able to welcome them to that great place, and they’d never be apart again.

The filly smiled as Celestia went on, telling of the great fun she would have when this last, hard part was done.

And Sunbeam kept smiling as she fell asleep, breathing softly through her blackened lips.

Celestia was smiling, too. A kindly smile she kept plastered on her face as she hugged with the parents and stepped past her wet-eyed captain.

The smile remained through the streets of Canterlot, where even now rumors of the event were spreading. Then the smile paraded for those at the palace, for every servant and duke.

A few short words cancelled her meetings that afternoon. A rare event, but nopony questioned her. She swept to her living space, though not so quickly that she couldn’t thank her guards for their work, or laugh at the latest Caesar’s joke.

Two flights of stairs to her room, as ever. The door opened without a sound and shut behind her, then locked for good measure.

She didn’t want to look. But slowly, purposefully, Celestia turned her head to the left.

The last pony she wanted to see right now. There in the mirror was this dreary white alicorn, with eyes aimed back and lips turned to a disappointed frown.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Celestia snarled. She turned her gaze away from the reflection and kicked off her hoof cups. “It’s not like I lied back there.”

No counter-argument came, but Celestia made it herself. “I mean… I don’t know, any more than any pony else. I don’t know it’s false, so it’s technically not a lie.”

This time, a deep, male voice answered. “‘Technically’ you made it all up.”

Celestia raised her head. Sombra stood next to her in the mirror, frowning. 

It gave her a start, but she rallied, ignoring the strangeness of his presence. “That doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Celestia shot back, turning her attention to wiggling out of her necklace.

Sombra gave a low grumble, as he always did when foul-tempered. “Oh, think about this for a second. Why did you even bother?”

“It made her happy,” she returned airily, glancing back. “Shouldn’t I care for my subjects?”

“You don’t care,” the old king parried, giving his mean, cynical smile. “You just salved your own conscience, that’s all. A few minutes with the little brat to feel like a ‘good princess.’”

All but her crown removed, Celestia turned her gaze to the discarded hoof cups on their rug. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” she sniffed. “Even back then, you were like this. You wondered what you could get out of your subjects, and not the other way around. It was always about you. You and your ego.”

She felt, rather than saw, Sombra’s smile grow. “Said the princess with the messianic statue of herself.”

That got to her. Celestia turned violently with a snap on her lips.

And all she saw in the mirror was her own snarl. Her face froze and she waited.

Nothing. Sombra was gone.

Celestia sat down, rubbing her hooves hard into her eyes. That was twice now that an old foe had appeared to her. These visions weren’t normal, of course, but what were they? She sensed no magic here. No illusions at work. But magi-science also declared there was no such thing as ghosts, so who knows? Maybe she had just dozed for a few minutes and dreamed it.

Or maybe… she was a little bit crazy. Celestia set her hooves down and sighed, looking everywhere but towards the mirror. 

Crazy. If that was the case, there was no helping it. What – the Great Princess Celestia, visit an alienist? That would be the end of the nation. Who would follow a self-admitted madmare?

Not a chance. If these sightings kept happening, she’d just have to ignore them.

Her horn glowed, and the tiara rose from Celestia’s head. She set it on the shelf, deciding that an early bedtime might be exactly what was needed.

The crown clinked against a foreign object. Celestia looked up, seeing it pressed against that old statue of her and Luna.

“Messianic,” Sombra called it. Celestia took the statue in her magic and brought it close, turning it to face her. No change since she set it up there all those years ago. Still a majestic, haloed Celestia, standing triumphant over Nightmare Moon.

Time was taking its toll on the finer points, but the workmanship remained brilliant. Griffons could make art with their claws more detailed than even the most masterful unicorns. It was more than just skill; something about holding the tools physically let them almost pour their soul into it. Especially with a piece like this. This plaster Celestia was far more perfect, far more powerful than she felt herself.

Celestia did not like the statue when she got it, and she did not like it now. The imaged mare was a stranger. A hero she couldn’t be, above a beast that shouldn’t be. Sombra was wrong when he implied she kept this out of ego. It was just politeness.

Her face snarked the tiniest grin. Whatever-his-name-was Greyfeather had to be long dead by now, so the time for politeness had passed.

She almost dropped the statue, there and then. But… it was very beautiful. A griffon artisan had spent months or even years working the plaster and gold. Senseless destruction was Discord’s way, not hers.

Still, it had to go. Her horn glowed, gripping the statue in its aura. Gently, careful not to damage it, she raised it up and deposited it slowly into her waste basket.

Celestia rolled her eyes, embarrassed at her own hypocrisy. The statue would be broken as the waste bag was collected and jostled, and it would be thrown out with the rest of the trash. Yet it wasn’t her who would break it, and that made it better. Out of sight, out of mind.









The next day, three things happened.

A letter came from Sunbeam’s parents, thanking the princess for giving their daughter a wonderful surprise. They said she talked excitedly about Celestia’s visit for hours, then passed peacefully that night.

Secondly, speaking from her throne, Princess Celestia announced the creation of a new royal office. It would be dedicated to supporting medical research, and naturally be headed by herself. Time for the duty would be made with a few changes to her schedule, including an end to her hospital visits.

Thirdly, as the evening’s shadows grew long, Celestia entered her room to find the statue back in place on her shelf.

It startled her, but she quickly sought and found a logical explanation. The afternoon cleaner noticed the statue in her waste basket and helpfully returned it to its place, presuming her morning counterpart put it there by accident. Their manager was deeply embarrassed by Celestia’s questions, and assured her twice the morning maid had been fired for the mistake.

“It’s a good thing Dusty looked before picking up the bag,” the manager said, wiping his sweaty brow and quailing in Celestia’s presence. “She showed the relic to me when she found it. Stars, that must be worth more than half the staff put together.”

“Probably,” Celestia said distractedly, half-lost in her own thoughts. “But hire her back.”

“But Princess!” he protested, which almost amused her. He was the first in a long time to question his liege. “I maintain the highest quality in the cleaning staff, and this–”

No words. Just a sidelong glance from Celestia, and his protest died. The pony bowed, promised to obey, and departed.

When he was gone, Celestia returned to her room and looked again at the statue. It was like it never moved. Somepony even turned it so it was facing away again, just like before. 

She looked hard at the damnable thing for a moment, pondering what to do. 

Then she shook her head, and began to prepare for bed. It hadn’t bothered her for years. The only reason she tried to throw it out now was because of Sombra. What kind of a reason was that? What happened yesterday was just a moment of spite. A moment of weakness. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
> Chapter 6: Old Vibrations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years since the completion of Canterlot. That meant around six hundred since she lost Luna.

Celestia would not have even noticed if not for the celebrations. All Equestria, and Canterlot especially, were going all-out for the Quincentennial Anniversary. The new capital had marked the birth of “modern” Equestria: a land of endless peace and prosperity, well-worthy of celebration. Parties, parades, and fireworks echoed across the nation as ponies threw themselves into the festivities.

Nopony seemed to care that Canterlot’s construction had heralded a decades-long depression. Now, with wealth more abundant than ever, noble patrons were looking to make their marks. High art was booming, and soon filled the city with new statues, paintings, and decorative windows.

Celestia commissioned nothing for herself, though gifts flowed in from every corner of Equestria. She held herself to receiving each one personally, grimly accepting that it would waste weeks of her precious time. But these gifts were so expensive, and so gratefully given, that she could not bring herself to delegate. She greeted each visitor personally, thanked them warmly for their present, and called in the next of the endless stream.

A few of the gifts stood out. The armor presented by the Duchess of Prance was heavily enchanted, enough to rival her strongest magic. Similar strength marked the bow from Manehatten’s lord, and the lance from Trottingham’s. 

Useless though the war-tools might be in the peaceful kingdom, she liked them far more than the gifted art. A thousand other guests would bring Celestia her own image in every medium imaginable: portraits, engravings, stained glass windows, and more. Her own little statue from the Greyfeather griffon was matched and outshone by hundreds of visages of Princess Celestia, each the very model of royal perfection.

The first few annoyed her, as the old statue did. But she grew used to them as more came.

All in all, she was satisfied. Much as the celebrations threw off her schedule, they were a good sign. A reminder that she had done well, that she had done right by her ponies. Even if their faces were swiftly forgotten, and their gifts not worth a second thought.

Except for one.

The latest of the Fleur family had gotten it in her head to make life-sized bronze statues of Equestria’s great statesmen. There was a Star Swirl, of course, and a Silk Pants done in honor of his knighthood.

The third one–

Rooke.

The sight of it jolted Celestia from her serene boredom. It was Rooke, and a near-perfect image at that. No glasses, but the bronze was darkened to represent her black coat. She was standing erect with her head turned left, smiling coyly to an unknown distance. 

The artist had returned everything Rooke had in life. From her slim legs to her unusual height, it was if the mare had been frozen in her youth. 

Celestia paced around the statue, twitching her wings, wearing a wistful smile as the memories came flooding back. Rooke was a good one. A bit arrogant, a bit silly, but a true friend all the same.

Her last friend. Five hundred years.

I won’t deny it, Celestia thought, reaching her hoof out to touch the bronze shoulder. Most days I don’t even realize it, but I’ve been lonely.

It’s good to see you again.

Celestia couldn’t recall what came after. She would have no memory of the next face in line, or the gift it brought. Her thoughts kept shifting to the two Rookes: the dead one and the bronze one. In mind’s eye, she saw Rooke as the sick old mare again. The friend she left behind.

But here stood a younger Rooke. The cheerful girl, who would blush and stammer when Celestia nipped her ear.

The day passed in an instant. Celestia blinked, and she was alone with her gifts. A pile of gilded junk, a horde of porcelain-perfect Celestias… and Rooke.

The princess stepped down from her throne, gaze fixed on the bronze mare. Her parched mouth bit down on its tongue. Her breath moved in a tremble.

She had a chance. To make her peace. To say what wasn’t said.

Discretion came first. Celestia lifted all three of the bronze statues with her magic and left the throne room. She cheerfully waved back servants who swooped in to help, declaring that she liked these so much she’d put them in her living space.

“I’m allowed to do a little decorating myself,” she giggled, drawing obedient laughs from the staff.

Two flights of stairs to her quarters. Though frugal by the standards of royalty, Celestia did maintain a few rooms for her own comfort. There was a parlor and a private office, and both received a statue in an unused corner. They hardly fit the motif, but she could throw them out later. Glancing over her shoulder, Celestia gave a grin and slipped into her room with the bronze Rooke.

It felt… she didn’t know how she felt. A little guilty, but also thrilled. It was exciting in a fun kind of way, knowing that any pony who saw would think her crazy.

The door closed and locked securely behind her. Celestia set Rooke down in the middle of her room and wasted no time wrapping the statue in a full, two-hooved hug.

“Oh, Rooke!” There was sadness in her voice, but also joy at their reunion. “What was I thinking, letting you go? We could’ve had something!”

They could have. Celestia was attracted to Rooke, she knew Rooke felt the same, and the rest could have played itself out. Instead...

Instead I said, “Later.” And then she was gone.

The thought hurt, but only briefly. Celestia rubbed her neck against Rooke’s, giving a laugh. “Well, ‘Better late than never.’ I think it was Pants who said that, when he was late to his own knighting.”

She turned away, walking towards her vanity. “Sorry, just give me a minute. I’ve been working all day.”

Celestia came to the mirror and eyed herself. She looked alright, but the full day at court had taken its toll. Her horn glowed, opening a few of the drawers and removing their contents.

First, the eyeliner: enough to be tasteful, but not too much. Then a little blush on her pale cheeks, and a little darkener to the eyelashes. A tiny brush to groom her ears just right, a little spray of perfume, and–

“Stop. What are you doing?”

Even the aberrant thought did nothing but draw out a wry smile. Celestia glanced behind her in the mirror, noting Rooke was looking back.

“You know how foals go through this stage where they become obsessed with growing up?” Celestia asked. “I was the same, and I tried to drag Luna with me. She went along with some parts, but her dolls were beyond compromise.”

She grinned as the happy memory crystalized in her mind. “Luna scrunched up her face and shouted, ‘You’re never too old to play with dolls!’”

Lipstick. It took her a moment to choose. There were reds and golds, but she settled on a vibrant blue normally reserved for the Sapphire Ball. Celestia set on a few more layers than strictly necessary, making it nice and thick on her lips.

Preening done, she leaned in to eye the handiwork. Her face wasn’t perfect, no matter what the statues claimed. There were care lines crossing her cheeks, and faint circles under the eyes. But the makeup hid it well, and Rooke wouldn’t care anyway.

Celestia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She opened them slowly, turning with a flourish. “How do I look?”

Rooke beamed back and answered. “Beautiful, but that’s not a change or anything.”

“Flatterer,” Celestia teased. She slowly walked forward, swaying her rump with each step. “But come on, be more specific. We never got this far.”

“You know, it’s a little weird.” Rooke chuckled, reaching a hoof to push up her glasses. “I always liked your neck. And I’m not a neck kind of girl, I just always liked how you held it.”

“My neck?”

“Well it’s not your chess skills.” Rooke laughed again, this time with a nervous tone. Her eyes moved to Celestia’s swaying flank, then back to her face, then back again. “This, uh, is a little fast, Princess. Don’t you–”

Celestia shushed her, placing a hoof over her smooth, black muzzle. The princess smiled impishly, seeing Rooke’s eyes cross to watch it.

“We’re in private, Rooke. Just call me ‘Tia.’”

Rooke closed her eyes and kissed the hoof. Celestia grinned and pulled it away slowly, leaving a thin trail of saliva behind.

She stepped in close, pressing her body against Rooke’s. The smile fell and she embraced her friend warmly. They stood there a moment, swaying gently as they pressed together. Two close friends who could have been so much more.

“How did I miss this, Rooke?” Celestia asked, pulling back to meet her old friend’s eyes. “How did I never even try? I could have been happy. I could have been so happy.”

“You can be happy now,” Rooke said, smiling kindly. And their lips met.

Celestia shivered at the contact, closing her eyes, lost in the moment. She didn’t even breathe for a few seconds. She hugged Rooke as tightly as she could, feeling their hearts hammering right next to each other. Her tongue pressed hard against Rooke’s lips, trying to work their way between the unyielding bronze.

Bronze.

Breathing in huffs, Celestia opened her eyes. No Rooke. Just a bronze statue, with blue lipstick smeared on its face.

Wordlessly, she scrunched her eyes back closed. Rooke was there. She was telling Tia how much she loved her.

Celestia kissed again, hard, tears falling from her closed eyes. Rooke was kissing back, reaching a sly hoof to caress her side…

Breath heaving in and out of her, Celestia began rubbing herself against Rooke. It started rhythmically, almost mechanically, but soon grew hard and fast. Her lungs burned as she kissed frantically, unwilling to pull away for a breath.

She had to, after several seconds. Celestia pulled her head back and gasped lungfuls of air, using them to rub ever harder against Rooke. She was standing on two hooves now, all but draped over the statue as the rubbing turned to thrusting.

“Stop.”

Celestia’s own, dreary voice sounded in her mind. “Just stop. Look at yourself.”

“What!?” Celestia gasped shrilly. She pressed her neck to the bronze face, desperately hoping to feel a kiss. 

Nothing. Nothing! Her heart rate began to slow, her thrusting growing distracted. “Nopony’s being hurt by this!” she snarled, glaring wildly around. “Am I not allowed to be happy? For five minutes!?”

She looked to Rooke for support, but Rooke wasn’t there. It was just a statue, now wearing her sweat and spit.

“Finish up,” Celestia whispered harshly. She closed her eyes, trying to will the illusion back to the fore. Rooke was smiling, saying she loved her, nibbling her ear…

Yet the voice spoke again, and the spell was broken. “Stop.” 

Heart hammering, Celestia threw herself from the statue. She staggered a few steps and collapsed into bed, knees buckling beneath her.

A few hard breaths, then softer ones. Minutes passed, and her adrenaline began to dim, the lust slowly clearing from her mind. She could think again, coming out of the haze that gripped her since she saw Rooke’s image.

“Just a dream,” she whispered. 

Yes, just a dream. At least, the romance was. Rooke was her last friend and nothing more. They were never in love. Celestia had certainly never fantasized about her until now.

“Why this, then?” Celestia’s dry mouth asked. “Why now?”

There was no answer. Maybe it had just been so long that she couldn’t help herself.

“Stop that,” she growled. There was no such thing as “couldn’t help it.” That was an excuse. There was always a choice. 

This was nothing more than a passing fantasy she gave in to. A weakness. 

She raised her head, glaring back to the statue. A reminder of guilt and a target of lust. A weakness either way. It couldn’t stay. 

Celestia’s horn glowed. Bronze was a simple metal to work, and she had long ago learned the mystic keys to affect it. Not just to change, but to unmake as well.

She didn’t want to. She wanted to disappear in the fantasy, weakness be damned.

But she couldn’t. Celestia sighed, and finished the spell.

With the metaphorical key turned, the statue became so much nothing. It was like a shaped cloud, slowly dissolving as the air claimed it. Rooke’s narrow face twisted and blurred. It faded to translucency, growing thinner and thinner until the last speck vanished from sight.

As it faded, Celestia could see the mirror behind. And the second face in it, even older than Rooke’s.

This time, Celestia did not know the name. But she remembered the face: careworn and slim, with a green crystal mane and coat. It was the slave from that last battle against Sombra’s army. When Celestia had slain thousands.

Including this poor woman. At least she looked as she did before the heat claimed her. The mare was whole and intact, gazing back with concern on her face.

There was a brief silence as they locked eyes, broken as the slave spoke. “Will you be okay?”

The words were soft and gentle, like a worried mother. Celestia gave the best smile she could, though it was trembling and weak. “Yes. Thank you.”

The mare smiled in response, but her sad eyes told she wasn’t fooled at all.

“I’ll be fine!” Celestia blurted. It was absurd, she knew, but she had to give comfort. “I’ll be fine. I just… I just…” 

The words deserted her. Her tongue waggled without purpose. Her thoughts raced, too quickly to grasp.

It was too much. Celestia threw herself prone on the bed, plugging her ears with her hooves and scrunching her eyes closed. She curled up, humming randomly and rocking herself until sleep finally came.









She could feel the rocking even in her dreams. Celestia mumbled and giggled, neighed and cried, until every last conscious thought had deserted her. She had finally snapped. She didn’t care anymore.

And why should she? In her dream, Celestia was dead.

It was her turn, now, to stand before the great Judge of Tartarus.

She tapped her hoof as he began the trial, loud enough to draw a baleful gaze from the demon. Celestia just stuck out her tongue and continued. What was he going to do? Kill her?

Celestia was impatient. Why bother with the ceremony? She knew she was damned. The judge raised a scroll listing those she murdered, and it was twice as thick as Sombra’s and Luna’s put together.

The list wasn’t in chronological order. At the top, in his deep, slow voice, the judge boomed, “Luna.”

That stopped Celestia for a moment.

Then, her impatient hoof tapping resumed. If anything, faster and louder than ever.

Luna. She’s here somewhere. Scared and alone. In pain.

Because of me. Because I killed her.

I’m sorry, Luna. I’m coming for you. Maybe you’ll forgive me and maybe you won’t, but that won’t change anything. I’m coming, and I’ll stay with you forever.

The judge went on as slowly as ever, intoning her sins from one scroll after the next. An eternity passed, and finally, finally, there came the words she was waiting for. 

“Princess Celestia. Do you have any final words, before your Judgment?”

She grinned cheekily and shook her head. Finally.

“Noted,” the judge said, as he always did. “Are you prepared for Judgment?”

This was it.

Scary, yes. Scary enough that her good humor deserted her. Celestia swallowed and nodded, eyes following the gavel as it slowly rose.



“I condemn thee…”

I’m coming Luna. And I swear, I’ll never leave you again.

“Sinner…”

“To Life Unending.”



The gavel came down, loud and final. Celestia sighed and smiled, nodding her head. It was over. Finally it was–

“What!?” she squawked, snapping her head back up.

Silence fell across the court. Even the gibbering, laughing imps stared curiously at her. The judge blinked slowly, tilting his head with the barest evidence of uncertainty. Celestia glared back, teeth grit, hooves trembling with anger.

“Is this some joke?” Celestia growled. “‘Life unending?’ What kind of a punishment is that?”

It seemed strange that the judge wasn’t angry at her defiance. He did not rise to argument, but settled back upon his bench, folding his claws into their voluminous black sleeves. He looked back neutrally, impassively, while Celestia stamped and snorted as if ready to charge.

The judge regarded her for a moment longer before closing his eyes. “I can do nothing else.”

She could scarcely believe her ears. Celestia tried to scream at him again, but all that came out was a hoarse, “What?”

“Princess Celestia,” the judge said, opening his eyes and gazing back. “You’ve slain tens of thousands, more than any monster who ever walked the land. You’ve betrayed your sister, your companion of centuries and closer love than any kinslayer I have ever seen.”

“You are a fiend beyond my power to judge. I have no fire hot enough for your murders. I have no whip sharp enough for your treachery. I have no judgment for your crimes, and so cannot judge you.”

He stretched forward his great claw, fingers out to the world beyond. “Therefore: depart, and never return.”









Just a dream.

But Celestia was not shaken like she was after the other nightmares. She just lay in bed, gazing up at the darkened ceiling.

It was silly to put any stock in these dreams. She knew she shouldn’t believe them.

Yet she did. She couldn’t help it. And that’s why she wasn’t shaking, or crying, or any of those other things she did when she was weak. The dream was awful. But it gave her answers, and there was a kind of peace in that.

Luna was gone forever. Celestia would never get her chance to apologize. They would never be able to fight, play, or any of those other thousand things they once shared.

Celestia, meanwhile, was here forever. She served her ponies, and would do so for another five hundred, thousand, ten thousand years. She would never die, never join Luna, so when would it end? Maybe never.

She smiled, very softly. Was it really so bad, staying behind? She would oversee endless generations of ponies, ensuring they know only peace, fellowship and hope.

Hope.

Celestia gave a quiet sigh, and closed her eyes. Every lover, every friend, they were all just dusty memories. As was Luna.

Hope was something she didn’t have. And… she didn’t need it. Nothing would change. That was alright.

She opened her eyes, and they drifted to the shelf above her head. Hidden from view, somewhere up there was Greyfeather’s old statue. It was almost funny – no, it was funny – how much she used to hate it. Now, though, it felt different. Like the last piece of a puzzle that finally clicked together.

Celestia was not the mare in the statue. That mare was wise and powerful. She was perfect. Nothing more than a plaster statue, but perfect all the same.

It was how so many ponies saw her. So many ponies thought Celestia and that mare were one and the same. She could see it, in all the portraits and windows they made of her.

They were wrong. Celestia was not perfect. She was not that mare, and she would never be that mare.

But she could try. For their sake.

It’s not about me. It’s about them. Star Swirl’s words. As true now as they ever were.

Her eyes drifted to the timepiece. 5 o’clock. The servants were probably on their way, preparing to rouse her.

The gentle smile returned, and Celestia rose from her bed.









“During my life I have seen, known, and lost too much to be the prey of vain dread. As for the hope of immortality, I am as weary of that as I am of gods and kings.”

-Mika Waltari, Finnish author
> Interlude: Numb the Wound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end.”

-H.P. Lovecraft, American author









How easily those next centuries passed!

Celestia once feared how time was moving so quickly. But that seemed silly now. Why be afraid? Death itself had rejected her. And with nopony to call friend, why fear its coming for others?

The decades and centuries blurred together. They were all the same. There were always old ponies, young ponies, and ponies in between. Why get to know them? Why get attached? She didn’t need more Rookes and Lunas. She had her duty. She had her work.

And it was going so well! No more fits of depression and sadness. No more unwanted lusts or cares. No more weeping for strangers’ deaths. There was just her work. Impersonal bureaucracy and impersonal ministers. It was clean, stable and calm. 

It was… nice. Nice and easy. A numb passing of time.

Perfection was impossible, of course. Endless reforms and minor disasters were handled, ever from behind her desk. And now there were always the aches: little pains in her wings and head that never quite went away.

There were troublesome ponies, too, who made things less perfect. They would make unwanted visits, or send cards and notes in efforts to grow close to her.

After trial and error, Celestia had found the easiest way to deal with them. She would accept their overtures, politely calling them “friend” or “student.” Odd tasks would be assigned to let them fancy themselves useful. It made them happy, and got them out of her mane. 

They died soon enough, solving the problem.

Sometimes Sombra would come and mock Celestia’s dispassion, and Rooke spoke well of a student now and then. But their opinions mattered little. Whatever Celestia’s private visitors were – ghosts, visions, or mad delusions – even they seemed to be fading. Sombra, Nightmare Moon, the old slave, Rooke… she was seeing them less and less.

She liked to think it was because everything was finally in order. The world made sense: Equestria was her duty, forever and ever. She was getting better at ignoring the distractions, and that included the ghosts.

Or maybe it was the simple crawl of years that was causing her spectral visitors to fade. Memories dulling, then vanishing into the hourglass. Her ponies had forgotten all about Luna, so why shouldn’t Celestia? It would make things even easier. No past to haunt her, no guilt to distract.

Yet even with those memories still within her, it was so easy now. Alone. Always alone, and that was right. No petty, selfish issues to hamper her. No–

Celestia blinked, flinching as green fire suddenly danced above her parlor desk. She reached a hoof to shield the papers, but the flame was gone as quickly as it came. A scroll fell from where it emerged, landing on the cluttered desk.

Tilting her head, Celestia took the scroll with her magic and turned it, eyeing the sender’s mark. A pink and white star, which meant…

Her lips creased into a soft smile. It was Twilight Sparkle, a name she actually remembered. One of Celestia’s so-called “students,” enrolled at the university. An intelligent young mare with a bright future. Next year she might be a researcher, or even a royal agent.

Still, she was nopony important, and Celestia had so much to do before the holiday tomorrow. There wasn’t time to humor the filly by playing pen-pal.

Celestia set the scroll aside, but picked it up again almost immediately. There was no good reason not to look. If it was nothing important, she could fire off whatever trite response was expected and be done with it.

Briskly, mind still on the paperwork before her, Celestia unwrapped the scroll.
> Interlude: Rude Awakenings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“My Dearest Teacher, 

My continuing studies of pony magic have led me to discover that we are on the brink of disaster! For you see, the mythical Mare in the Moon is in fact Nightmare Moon, and she's about to return to Equestria and bring with her eternal night! Something must be done to make sure this terrible prophecy does not come true. I await your quick response. 

Your faithful student, 

Twilight Sparkle.”



Her magic winked out. Celestia caught the parchment with shaking hooves as it fell.

“Luna.” The name came out in a dry whisper as Celestia read the letter again. She only got halfway down before the trembling grew too strong to make out the words.

The Nostradamare prophecy. The thousandth year… 

Tears blurred her vision, and the shaking grew worse. The scroll dropped to the floor, unnoticed. Celestia could feel her heart galloping, almost outpaced by her panicked breaths. 

She tried to control it, but the attack went on. Celestia’s face and hooves went numb. Black spots dotted her vision, and her head began to sway.

Gossiping voices sounded through the door, snapping her mind back in order. A few servants, coming to clean the parlor at the same time as ever.

She couldn’t be seen like this! Panicked into action, Celestia snatched the scroll and dove for her bedroom. Undignified, she scampered through the door and slammed it closed.

The scare was like a douse of cold water on her nerves: unpleasant, but steadying. She was still breathing hard and shaking, clutching the paper to her chest. But the anxiety was fading. She could think about this logically.

And as soon as she did, Celestia laughed.

She could see herself in the mirror, and it looked disgusting. A wild, ear-to-ear grin beneath the shrunken pupils and wide eyes. But she couldn’t help it. It was that funny!

“Ah, Twilight!” Celestia kept laughing. It was tiring after so long without, and it hurt her mouth and sides. But she laughed all the same, letting the fear flow out with each shrill push of air.

“Twilight, Twilight,” she shook her head, still grinning after the laughter was gone. “You brilliant, silly girl. Luna’s dead. She’s not coming back.”

Still, the young mare surprised her. Most ponies were lost in their preparations for the Summer Sun festival, yet Twilight was as sharp and industrious as ever.

Though maybe this is just an excuse to write me, Celestia mused, her grin turning to a wry smirk. The girl’s clingy. I think I’m her only friend.

A one-way friendship, endured for the young mare's sake. But perhaps a solution was at hoof. Celestia took up her own quill and ink, giggling a little as she penned the response.



“My dearest, most faithful student, Twilight, 

You know that I value your diligence and that I trust you completely. But you simply must stop reading those dusty old books! 

My dear Twilight, there is more to a young pony's life than studying. I'm sending you to supervise the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration in this year's location: Ponyville. And I have an even more essential task for you to complete: make some friends!

Your faithful teacher,

Princess Celestia”



Celestia sent off the message with her magic, still smiling blissfully. It was funny. So funny that she wasn’t even annoyed at the interruption.

But Celestia’s humor died in an instant as the scroll vanished. Behind it, in the mirror, Luna stood next to her.

Well, it was “Nightmare Moon” instead of Luna, but the distinction felt like a tired excuse. Whoever she was, the black mare was smirking knowingly.

“Somepony’s in deniiiiiiiial,” she sang in a teasing voice.

Celestia glanced to the side. Nightmare Moon was sitting on the bed, sticking her tongue out. Her grin widened as Celestia’s eyes narrowed.

But Celestia – “Princess Celestia,” the mare she tried to be – did not get angry. She swallowed the rage, and it went down easily. No shouting, no outburst came forth. She just eyed her dead sister as she would any other annoyance. 

Still, a quiver marked Celestia’s response. “A thousand years,” she said, glaring imperiously. “Since we parted ways. One thousand years.”

The voice grew low, growling. “And still you haunt me. You all do, but not forever.”

She drew her head in close, standing eye-to-eye with the still-smirking Luna. “One day, I’ll finally forget you. You’ll be gone, and I’ll remain.”

With an arrogant sniff, Celestia raised her nose and strode quickly from the room. She passed through without even a nod to the cleaners, not daring to look back.

> Chapter 7: Sister-Mine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few minutes turned, and life wasn’t so easy anymore.



“It’s time to put our differences behind us, Luna. Will you accept my friendship?”



Life had become strange, full of doubt and uncertainty.



“I'm so sorry! I missed you so much, big sister!”

“I’ve missed you, too.”



It was what she was supposed to say. What “Princess Celestia” would say.

She wasn’t even afraid, the way she was when she saw the impossible rainbow in the night sky. When she recognized the magic of Harmony, and knew Twilight Sparkle had been right after all.

Celestia had winged over with all speed, mind reeling. Maybe Luna was gone again, and all would be as it should be. Maybe she was Nightmare Moon, and a new battle would come.

Her ill-used wings were pained by the short flight, and that endless, dull headache had grown worse. Celestia had felt so frail. She wondered if she could even defeat Nightmare Moon if it came to a fight.

Instead, something else happened. She arrived to find Luna, stumbling to the old castle’s floor. Not Nightmare Moon, but Luna. Curled up, dazed and crying, with every bit of the old horror cleaved from her soul.

Celestia’s eyes turned to the side as they hugged, mouth grimacing from its gentle smile.

One thousand years since they parted. Years Celestia spent moving on, piecing together her lonely, perfect life. Everything had finally been in order. Everything finally made sense.

And here was Luna. Haunting her once more, shattering her long-built normalcy. Unasked for. Unwanted.

But she couldn’t say that. “Princess Celestia” would not say that, no matter how much it grated to see the world spiral back out of control.

She smiled, serene and mature as Ponyville celebrated around them. She kindly gave Twilight leave to remain with her new friends, and watched Luna play with the foals.

The white lips fell to a gentle, more genuine smile. This… this would be alright.

Celestia nodded, the last vestige of her old fears falling away. The world had changed, yes, but she could work around it. Luna was a problem that could be solved. She needed companionship – ponies to keep her entertained, to make her feel loved. These could be assigned from the castle staff, at least until she made her own friends. She would be happy, and Celestia could move on.

The smile faded. Something about these thoughts felt… “wrong,” though Celestia couldn’t say why. 

After a second’s thought, she shook her head. They were not wrong. It was all for Luna’s sake, after all. Celestia cared for her.

Do I?

She mused the thought another moment, and came to a pleasing answer. I want Luna to be happy. If that isn’t “caring,” then what is?

Luna kept sending her glances. They were nervous little looks that quickly shot away, like a guilty child’s. She knew there were words yet unspoken between them, and they would be difficult words.

Celestia smiled warmly back, drawing a weak grin from her sister. Don’t worry, Luna. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.

I’ll take care of everything.









As the sky became red, Luna forgot her fear. She turned to the west, taking in the wonder of the setting sun.

She loved the dusk – better than the day, better even than her own night. It was when the sky ceased to be predictable. Not boring, uniform blue or black, but a riot of reds that changed from minute to minute, growing all the more vivid as they disappeared. There would be other dusks, but each was different. Each was beautiful.

Her face lit with joy as the orange rays danced above her head. Luna had missed this. Her time on the moon had passed without notice, but she missed this all the same.

It was encouraging. The thousand years had doubtless left little untouched, both of Equestria and the world beyond. Yet the dusk remained, smiling down like it had waited for her. Assuring Luna that though much had changed, some things had not.

A gold-shod hoof settled gently on her shoulder. Luna looked up, and smiled as bravely as she could.

Her sister had not been unchanged. Tia was older, and walked more slowly than she used to. She had been withdrawn throughout the party, but… well, she had to be as scared as Luna was. The coming talk would not be pleasant for either of them.

We’ll get through it. Together.

Luna approached the chariot with a spring in her step, heart lightened by the vivid sunset. She waved happily as Twilight said goodbye, calling out a cheerful promise to visit.

She was still scared, it was true. Of what Celestia would say when they were finally in private. But she did not think Tia would punish her, or yell at her, or any of those other things she could rightfully do. The older sister was calm, her smile serene and kind as the chariot rose to the sky. 

It really seemed like Tia forgave her. Like a big sister should.

The smile on Luna’s face grew brighter. Big sister. That was another thing she really, truly missed.

Her fear slowly returned as they came to Canterlot, landing in a discreet courtyard. With long shadows all around them, Celestia wordlessly led her through the twisting, darkened hallways of the castle at nightfall. 

Luna wanted to stop and look. This was her first time here, and the new castle seemed so large compared to the old one. There were signs pointing to justice halls and libraries, and places with names she didn’t recognize. But Tia kept silently striding forwards, and Luna uttered not a peep as she scrambled to keep up.

By the time they came to Celestia’s parlor, Luna’s hooves were trembling. She was scared again.

At least the room was well lit, and had a homey air to it. A grandfather clock sat atop the ink-stained carpet, offering a rhythmic tone to combat the silence. The parlor had a few sofas, though was dominated by a massive, gilded desk, upon which sat reams of paper in several wicker trays. It all looked worn and used – a far more comforting sight than the pristine halls.

Celestia sighed lowly, as if steeling herself, and gestured to a couch. “Let’s sit down.”

Luna obligingly hopped on. Celestia settled herself gently on the opposite side, and the two began to speak.

It was awkward, and did not grow easier. Celestia started at the most coldly logical place: she asked about Nightmare Moon, and where the line between it and Luna laid.

The questions hurt. Luna fought down tears as they came, though she knew her sister was right to ask. Celestia had lived a thousand years without answers, and had a right to be suspicious. Luna could feel her sister gazing intently at her, probing for any signs of a lie.

She need not have. Luna’s eyes were firmly on the floor as she answered, yet the words rang true.

And the truth was, she could remember it all. There were years of building jealousy. A silent, seething anger, growing until every gift and praise sent to Celestia seemed a bitter insult to herself. First it was a guilty rage, of “not being good enough.” Then it was directed to the ponies. She would rant and grumble in private, decrying the ungrateful louts for their ignorance of all she did for them. And the anger kept growing, eventually turning itself to Tia for eclipsing her so. 

At the peak of her adolescent spite, Luna invited dark magic to merge with her own. The deed was almost innocent, with no plan for conquest, murder, or anything so wicked. She just wanted to be the “big sister,” and shove Tia down a peg.

Luna’s face was stone as she spoke, but regret filled her every word. She owned Nightmare Moon. She was Nightmare Moon. The dark magic twisted her feelings, locking her in an endless rage. The rebellion, the hangings in Baltimare, the attack on the castle… to her maddened perception, all those were righteous vengeance against the older sister. 

Her better nature tried to fight it. But the anger fed itself, growing stronger and stronger until all else fell but a burning, bitter hatred for Celestia. It filled Luna’s world, dictating the course of her every action. It was why she demanded ponies worship her like a god – to show she had grown more “beloved” than her sister. When Tia challenged her in the palace, the hate bid her break the neck and leave, giving her a chance to recover so more pain could be dealt. No room  was left for thoughts of consequence, or even victory. The hate became an end itself, whipping Luna into its mad frenzy.

“You said it was dark magic?” Celestia mused neutrally, still wary. “But I used my aura to dispel any enchantments that might’ve been on you.”

“No, no,” Luna shook her head, biting hard on her lip. “It started that way. But the magic just lent me emotion. Like how when you’re angry at a pony, hitting them feels like justice. When you calm down you feel bad about it, but I could never calm down. When the dark magic fell away, I remained Nightmare Moon. Because it felt so great to cut loose, so great to be righteously angry, that…”

Luna choked on a sob, and brought a hoof to her mouth. She didn’t want to go on. She wanted to curl up and give in to the tears fighting to emerge. 

But she had to say it. For Tia’s sake, she had to finish. Tia, sitting right next to her, watching stoically.

Hug me, Tia! I need you!

But the white alicorn remained still, and the space between them went unfilled. Luna’s last words came out in a babble as she raced her tears. “Tia, I wanted it! I chose to stay Nightmare Moon. It felt so good. I wanted to hurt you, and I’m so sorry! I hurt so many ponies, I hurt you, I, I…”

“Tia!” She propelled herself into Celestia’s chest. Luna wrapped her sister in a hug, bawling like a newborn. She moaned shrilly with the tears, pressing her eyes to the long white neck.

Celestia tensed at the sudden contact. Slowly, the older sister brought her forelegs around and returned the hug. Her grip was limp, like she was just setting her hooves behind Luna’s back. But Luna didn’t care. She loved it.

“It’s alright, Luna,” Celestia offered calmly. “It’s alright.”









Celestia squinted, trying to think of what else to say. “I forgive you,” was safe, but what was there to forgive? The events were scant hours past in Luna’s perception, but for Celestia, it had been a thousand years. If she ever resented Nightmare Moon, time had dulled the feeling to nothingness.

Except the Nightmare Moon who stalked her through the mirror. She hated that one with passion, but it did not count.

There was a second safe response, one that rolled more easily off her tongue. “I’m sorry, too.” Belatedly, Celestia remembered she used to nuzzle Luna at times like these. She did so, and Luna returned it.

“I played a role in this,” Celestia went on. “I should have been a better sister. I should have stopped that all from ever happening.”

A bitter twist came to her face, unseen by Luna. I should have stopped it. The mare I should be would have stopped it.

“But things will be different,” Celestia went on, gripping her sister just a bit tighter. “I promise you, Luna. Things will be better. I’ll make sure of it.”

Luna beamed, drinking in the words. Celestia held her a little longer, smiling softly as Luna snuggled closer.

Celestia finally looked to the clock and frowned. “Hm. Midnight already.”

She gently pushed Luna away, but paused to rub a hoof under the blue chin. “Welcome home, my dear sister.”

The response was enthusiastic, and wet with joyful tears. “I love you, Tia!” Luna went for another hug, but Celestia was already standing from the couch. The sun princess walked to her desk and began pushing aside cluttered papers in a brief search.

“Now where did I put that bell?” She lifted one of the trays, giving Luna a distracted smile. “I’ll summon the night servants. They’ll set you up in our finest guest room, at least until more proper quarters can be arranged.”

“But…” 

It was all Luna got out before descending into meek silence. Her head and ears drooped low, and her eyes looked away.

The tone caught Celestia’s attention, and she turned back. “Yes?”

“I was…” Luna trailed off again. She looked up at Celestia with timid eyes, finally rallying her courage. “I mean, c-can I spend the night with you?”

Celestia sighed. A gentle smile quickly formed on her face, and she nodded. “Of course. Just like old times.”

Like the sunrise, Luna’s grin rose. She giggled happily, pressing her body to Celestia’s as they walked to the bedroom. She jumped onto the bed with childish cheer, twisting into the covers as Tia removed her regalia.

Celestia climbed under the sheets, glancing away as Luna snuggled up to her.

In that glance, she saw Sombra sitting on her chair.

“What a touching reunion,” he said, voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. “Come on, ‘Tia.’ We both know what you really think.”

Celestia tensed and rubbed Luna’s ears, hiding the conversation. “Go away,” she hissed softly. “You only come when I’m alone!”

“Come? Go?” In the mirror, Nightmare Moon stepped into view with that mocking smile on her face. “We’re always here, sis.”

No more words, but Celestia’s lips curled from her teeth in a brief snarl. She rolled purposefully away from them, bringing her well into Luna’s side of the bed.

Unaware of the visitors, all Luna noticed was Tia curling up closer. She didn’t mind at all.
> Chapter 8: Perfect Strangers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.”

-Abraham Lincoln, US President (Attributed)









For the first time in a thousand years, Luna awoke. She was in a warm, soft bed, covered by velvet sheets. They smelled like Tia.

She grinned. It was going to be a good day.

The future was daunting, certainly. Luna had ten centuries of catching up to do. 

But Tia would help her through it. Tia forgave her. Tia loved her, and that made all this so much less scary. Luna opened her eyes with a tiny giggle, wondering if her sister still drooled in her sleep.

Nopony was there. Luna’s smile fell a little, though came up again as she saw the dawn's rays dance through the window. Tia must have roused a few minutes ago. 

A glance to the clock showed that it was seven in the morning. An early time to raise the sun, but after a second's thought Luna recalled it was summer. Long days to help the crops grow.

She had hoped to wake up with Tia, but her good cheer endured the disappointment. Luna literally rolled out of bed, laughing as she tumbled to the floor. She righted herself with a few quick flaps of the wings, bringing her aloft. Hovering easily, basking in the growing light, she took her first good look around.

Celestia’s bedroom was much like her parlor – well-used and imperfect, a stark contrast to the gilded palace around them. The carpeting was worn to the point of being threadbare, its original purple faded to a dull brown. 

Feeling inquisitive, Luna flapped to one side of the room and began browsing. Tia had gotten a new vanity during the thousand years, and a bit of snooping revealed that this one was a deal more barren. No love letters or perfumes crowded its table. Just an ear-brush and comb, where Tia once owned ten of each.

“Well, she grew up.” Luna shrugged, landing and taking her attention elsewhere. The smaller vanity gave room to a bookshelf, drawing another giggle from her. Neither sister had been avid readers, save for their little romance novels.

The books here, though, made her gag. “Modern Finance.” “Principles of Judicial Law.” “Debates on Magical vs. Mechanical Research.” “Equestrian Zoning Law, Volume XI.”

A few others looked less dull, and these Luna noted with closer interest. History books. They might be a good place to begin catching up with the times. 

Her gaze passed slowly over each one, even the titles hinting at how the world had changed. “Abolition in the Griffon Kingdom.” “On the De-Gentrification of the Royal Guard.” “Phoenix: The Rebuilding of Baltimare.”

That last one made her stop.

To Luna, it was yesterday.



Baltimare. The city fell easily, its defenders bowing to Nightmare Moon without the slightest guess that this was a coup. But when the ponies saw the truth, they rioted. They didn’t care how many Lunar Guards were there. Shop owners and students barricaded the streets, holding those barricades with thrown rocks and stolen muskets.

So Nightmare Moon punished them. And every streetlight held a body by the time she was done.



Luna punched the book, jerking her gaze away.

“That was me.”

She breathed in and out sharply, willing herself to look back at it. “But… Tia forgave me.”

Slowly, Luna reached her hoof and touched the book again. She stroked it softly, almost as an apology.

“I didn’t deserve it, but she forgave me anyway.” Luna smiled a little, feeling her hope rise up over the guilt. “But I will deserve it. Nothing but good from here on out, Luna. Nothing but good. You owe it to her, to all of them.”

Luna moved on, and the next thing of interest brightened her smile. The sun was glowing through a glass door, with a small balcony beyond. It looked nice – not ostentatious, just a little platform of smooth, white stone with a beautiful view. Perfect for getting some wing exercise, or just dozing in the sun.

Her hoof moved up to push the door open, but it held fast. Luna peered closely at the latch, guessing there was a little lock in place.

There was, but it was rusted shut. Luna tried to wiggle it open to no avail.

“Hm.” She frowned thoughtfully, and moved on. There was the bed, of course. Nothing special about it, with sheets so fresh they must have been changed daily.

And there was a small shelf next to the bed. Curious, Luna walked over for a closer look. It held a mechanical clock with a bell attached, probably built to ring at an appointed time. There was a wooden pony’s head, carrying the huge, silly crown Celestia wore for special events. And a small statue…

“Facing backwards?” Curious, Luna raised it in her magic. It was white stone and gold leaf, though neither had aged well. The statue was old, and time had worn out many of the finer details.

But it was unmistakably Celestia. A glorious visage of her, plunging a spear into Nightmare Moon.

Luna glowered, but the anger in her died quickly. Tasteless as it was, she could hardly fault the ponies for celebrating her fall. She could hardly fault Tia, either.

But Tia didn’t seem like the “celebration” type anymore. And the statue was turned away, so obviously she didn’t think much of it. It was just a nick-knack with no better place to go. Or a reminder. Tia said she was responsible for what happened, so maybe she kept it out of guilt.

Either way, Luna’s mood was muted as she left the bedroom. Celestia’s parlor was unchanged from yesterday, though now it held a maid busily dusting the clock.

Engrossed in her work, the mare didn’t look up until Luna tapped her shoulder. “Um… excuse me?”

“Hrmph?” The tan earth pony turned, and spat out her duster. She coughed once, then grinned welcomingly. “Hello, dear. Do you need something?”

Luna gave a timid smile in return, well aware of her childish appearance. “Yes. Um, do you know where Tia is?”

The maid cocked her head, face quizzical. “Who's Tia?”

They looked at each other blankly for a moment before Luna realized the problem. “Oh! I mean Princess Celestia.”

“Ah!” The maid’s warm smile returned. “Let me see… with maybe ten minutes since dawn, she’s probably back in her office. She doesn’t usually hit the courts or throne until the afternoon, though that can change sometimes.”

Luna pouted, kicking the rug. “Aw, rats.”

She gave an embarrassed smile at the maid’s confusion. “I wanted to wake up together, and it looks like I just missed her.”

The maid breathed a quick chuckle. “No worries there. She was up at four.”

Luna blinked. “She raises the sun at four?”

“No, dear.” The maid scratched her ear, transferring some of the dust to it. “She likes to get up early, get some work done before the day really starts. All my life I’ve dusted that alarm clock of hers, and I don't think she's ever even used it.”

She looked at her hoof, grinned, and patted Luna’s shoulder, mischievously brushing dust onto her. “She had me tuck you back in, you little cutie. Once I’m done here, I’ll be getting your own room set up.”

“Great,” Luna sighed, looking away.

Oblivious to Luna’s sinking mood, the maid nodded. “It’ll be right next to Cadence’s – you’ll love her, I promise. She was even younger than you when she got her wings. I mean… horn? I think she was a pegasus before she changed.”

“Another alicorn?” Luna asked, her attention seized. Three of us? But only two are born at a time, and that’s only every…

…Thousand years. She grinned wryly, marveling at how easy it was to forget. I wonder if the fourth one has changed yet.

“Yep!” The maid nodded cheerfully. “‘Princess Cadence,’ the princess of love. What are you going to be the princess of?”

Luna blinked, unused to not being recognized. Yet another reminder of the missing years. She sighed, lowering her head. “The night. Um…”

She looked back up, trying to match the maid’s smile. “I’m sorry. But can you please tell me where Tia’s office is?”









Walking down the hallways felt good. The castle was far cheerier in the daytime, with ponies of all kinds chattering amidst the portraits and pillars. They looked on curiously as Luna walked past, and guards saluted stiffly at her gaze.

She felt her shyness fade, at least a little bit. The attention made her feel like a princess again.

A good princess. That's what I'll be.

Celestia’s office was far grander than her parlor. The carpet was thick and desk gem-studded, but the room around was empty. It felt a bit too large, and the mahogany walls made it seem dark and mysterious. There were two windows, but the shades were drawn on both. The room’s lone occupant sat hunched over the desk, her white body making the rest seem all the darker by comparison.

Tia looked up from her writing and smiled as Luna entered the lamplight. She stepped around the desk and the two interlocked their necks.

“Hello, Luna.” Celestia pulled away, turning to sit back down. “What do you think of Canterlot Castle?”

“It’s great!” Luna hopped on her tip-hooves, brimming with excitement. “It’s so much bigger than our old palace.”

“Hm, yes.” Celestia’s eyes went to the side. “Well, Equestria got bigger.”

She gave a soft laugh. “And much more complicated. We needed a proper capital, but it would seem like favoritism if I just chose some duke’s city. So I built my own, right in the middle of Equestria. A symbol of unity.”

Luna eyed the small mountain of papers on the desk, smirking. “Looks like a symbol of bureaucracy.”

Celestia laughed again, in the exact same tone. “As I said, things are more complicated. It takes work.”

“Understood.” Luna puffed out her chest and saluted. “I know I need to catch up with the times. But I’ll do it as fast as I can, and start helping you.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Celestia smiled down at her.

She said something else, but… something about that smile stuck in Luna’s mind. Maybe not the smile, but the eyes above it.

They were a little scary. She hadn't noticed earlier, but Tia’s eyes had grown deep and dark over the thousand years. Between those and her white face, it almost looked like a skull.

“I’m sorry?” Luna sidled up alongside the desk, shaking her head, trying to un-see the skull. “I’m sorry, I missed that last part.”

With half an ear, Luna listened as Tia talked about taking things slowly. But Luna’s eyes slipped down to the desk, her attention drifting to the silver-inked letter on top.



“Hail, Noble Princess Celestia,
Ever May You Rule,

We, the undersigned nobles of the Griffon Kingdom, do UTTERLY REJECT our so-called King Golden Claw’s claim to the Griffon Throne. He is a usurper, a murderer, whose ascension came though deeds most foul.

His reign has not been vindicated by action. In one scant year, our economy has plummeted to desperation. Hearing of the plight of our poor, your noble ponies have gathered much-needed food to send to our villages. This great and humbling kindness has been rebuffed by our so-called king. He eats well, so he cares not.

This is merely the latest offense given by our unworthy monarchs. Our sentiment has been building for years, and now we are certain enough to act.

Therefore, we undersigned do BESEECH you to annex our realms from the moribund Griffon Kingdom. We will immediately pledge our loyalty to both you and Equestria, and commit our soldiers to securing this against–”



Celestia noticed. She frowned, placing a fresh form on the letter before Luna could read further.

Luna glanced away, silently dropping the issue. She’s just dealing with a tricky problem. And I can’t help, the way I am now.

“Sister,” Tia said softly, an unspoken apology in her voice. She leaned over and nuzzled Luna. “Take some time to yourself. You have a lot to deal with, and I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

Luna hated breaking the contact. But she did, shaking her head. “I’m ready to return to my duties. Wherever you think I should.”

Tia was already glancing at the next paper. “Alright.”

Still with that off-putting smile beneath those dark eyes, Celestia gestured outwards. “Go find Dust Bunny up on the eighth floor. She’ll be getting your room ready by now, and you’ll have to pick out your furniture.”

Luna nodded, but loitered. She turned in place a few times before standing again by the desk.

Tia’s quill was back at work, her attention downwards. If she noticed Luna was still there, she gave no sign.

“Um…” Luna hesitated, drawing a brisk glance from her sister.

With nothing else for it, Luna blurted out the rest. “My room. Can you come decorate it with me?”

A flash of annoyance marred Celestia’s face, but it vanished in an instant. “No. Sorry, but I have a lot to do.” 

Silently, Luna sighed through her nose. She nodded, and turned to leave.

On her way out the door, she cast a final glance backwards. Tia’s eyes were already back to her desk, quill scratching at the paper.









Luna kept her ear to the ground. When things seemed to cool off with the griffons, she returned to Celestia.

Tia was cradling her jaw, nursing a headache as Luna entered the office. There was a new set of papers on the desk, and a unicorn officer holding a few more. But Tia’s dull smile and dark eyes remained the same.

“Tia, Cadence tells me there’s a jousting tournament in Prance this Sunday. Want to go together?”

“I’m sorry, that’s when I hold the Sun Court. But here – this is Shining Armor, captain of the palace guard. Shining, you’ll escort her, won’t you?”









“Tia, look! My mane’s getting starry again.”

“That’s nice, Luna.”

“And I’m as tall as I used to be, and I think my wings are stronger than ever. Hey, it’s a nice evening. Want to go for a fly, just the two of us?”

“Maybe later.”









The thousand years had brought change. Changes everywhere Luna looked, but none so hard to grasp as her sister's.

Celestia’s changes seemed good on the outside. She was so responsible now, and so smart about money and politics.

The ponies all spoke glowingly of her. How she quashed corruption without a blink, but was always tender with the needy and ill. How any pony could stand before her in the Sun Court and make his voice heard.

Still, the changes did not sit easily with Luna.

It kept her awake some nights, thinking of days now past. The old Celestia had been so fast to laugh, so eager for any chance to pawn off her paperwork. She worked hard, played hard, and napped on her throne whenever she pleased. She could have a sharp tongue, and sometimes would storm off in a huff. But her conscience would always bid her return, lip quivering, with apologies and offers to make amends.

These were the good times, of course. The happier memories. But they were as much a part of their past as the bad ones.

“Come on, Luna!” A cheerful filly named Celestia called out in her memory’s ear. “Let’s go flying!”

Luna beamed at the filly's grin – not measured and polite, but wide and gap-toothed.

Those good times had been so much fun.

Tia was no fun anymore. And the more Luna thought about it, the more she knew it was her own fault. Betraying Celestia, letting her own petty ego come between them… Celestia blamed herself, but it was not Celestia who embraced dark magic out of envy and spite. 

It was Luna. And this is what happened.

Yet each time Luna began to sink into those guilty thoughts, she yanked herself back upwards. Yes, she hurt ponies. Yes, she hurt Celestia. 

And she would damn well make it up to them. 

She would make it up to the ponies by being a good princess. And she would make it up to Tia by being a good sister.









“Oh, Tia? The Shetland Tenors are in Canterlot, and they’ll perform through the weekend. I was–”

“That’s lovely, Luna. I believe Fancy Pants is a big fan; I’ll ask him to go with you. He’s a fine stallion, I’m sure you’ll like him.”









“Tia, Cadence and I are going to a hoofball game. Here, we have an extra ticket for the seat right next to us.”

“Thank you, Luna.”

“You’ll come?”

“If I’m not too busy. Now please excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.









“Hi, Cadence. And wow, Luna, you look excited. You like hoofball that much?”

“Shining Armor!?”

“I know! I never score seats this good. You’ll never guess who gave me the ticket.”

“I… think I can, actually.”









Time passed, and the sisters saw less of each other. Luna would no longer rush to Tia’s office each morning, and limited her invitations to one or two a week.

She hadn’t given up. She was playing a longer game.

Like it or not, they were all but strangers. They had to start again, and Luna was determined to see it through. Slowly, without forcing things.

In the meantime, there was plenty else to fill her days. Luna found fine tutors for history and politics. She read voraciously, paying particular attention to Celestia’s rule.

With a sharp mind and observer’s standpoint, it didn’t take long for Luna to notice the trends. The power of the nobility had eroded, and whole sections of the old government were gone forever. Hoof-picked agents filled some of the void, but more was carried by Celestia’s own labor. Finance, military, research… so many agencies now stood directly in their sovereign’s shadow.

She doesn’t trust anyone else. Luna smiled grimly at the thought. Another piece of the puzzle, fit snugly into place.

It’s because of me.

The smile fell, and she moved on.

More mundane things had changed, too. Tia had enshrined rights and freedoms into Equestrian law, writing it in such a way that even she could not legally renounce it.

That was… “odd,” Luna decided, but not in a bad way. Equestrians always had rights, but the justification had been, “Because the alicorns say so.” Consciously or not, Tia had set herself to fail if she ever became a tyrant.

Luna smiled at the thought, and this time it held. Those actions felt good. Subtle steps taken to stop some “Nightmare Sun” from rising.

It warmed her, thinking that at least a little good had come from her fall.









Other things, Luna couldn’t just read about. These were the tricky ones. 

“Cadence, you kissed Shining Armor! You are no longer chaste! Quick, summon him back. We must wed you immediately!”

And the embarrassing ones. 

“I don’t understand, Cadence. How do the ponies get inside the television?”

And the ones that were just awkward for everypony involved. 

“Cadence!” Luna said loudly, as befitted a princess in public. “How does that young colt have two fathers? Are they sorcerers?”

But she was learning. No mistake was repeated. No lesson was forgotten. She’d be Tia’s equal again.

They could be sisters again.









“Hey, Tia. I’ve decided to visit Ponyville for my first Nightmare Night. Would you like to come with me?”

“I’m busy, Luna.”









With that damnable office deserted one evening, Luna headed for Celestia’s living space with opera tickets held in her magic.

Try, try, and try again. Some days Celestia was indifferent to her efforts, some days she was annoyed. Never had she seemed interested in getting out of the castle, or even just spending time together.

Luna rapped on the parlor door. No answer. She let herself in.

No question, no debate, Luna would keep it up until she got through. Until Celestia smiled and laughed again. Not that horrible, serene, fake smile she smeared on her face all day. Not that polite, manufactured little laugh. But a real smile. A real laugh.

Nothing in the parlor, but light came from under the bedroom door. Luna strode up to it, already raising her hoof to knock.

She paused as she drew close. Voices. 

Tia was talking to somepony, and she sounded upset. Luna’s curiosity and guilt warred briefly before the former won out. Softly, Luna tip-hooved the rest of the distance and leaned her ear to the door.

“Rooke, don’t you get it?” It was Tia, though so different a Tia that it gave Luna pause. This voice was cracking, like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I want to be alone. Please?”

Then… no response. There was a pause, and Luna heard hooves slam on something wooden.

Tia’s voice rang out again, this time shrill and angry. “You stay out of this! You are done. Luna’s back, so why are you still here? You can't still be here!”

Another brief silence. Luna bit her lip as the talk grew even more distraught. “Shut up. Just shut up. Why are you here? What do you want?”

Luna swallowed, trying to find her own voice, and Celestia screamed. “Well I don’t want you here! Shut up! Shut up!” 

Inside the room, glass shattered. “Tia!” Luna shouted. All stealth gone, she shoved open the door and ran inside.

Celestia faced the vanity, her back to Luna. She was perfectly still, silently standing amidst a flurry of broken glass. A hoof-sized object had smashed her mirror, seeding the carpet with shards.

The sisters’ eyes met in the glass, its cracks dividing their reflection a hundred times.

“Tia,” Luna said again, outstretching a hoof.

Celestia turned, slow and dignified. There wasn’t a hint of a tear on her face, nor tremble of rage in the limbs. Even her hair maintained its slow, steady waving.

It was Tia, as she always was these days. With those dark eyes and empty smile.

“Do you need something, Luna?” Celestia asked, the picture of serenity.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this.” Luna stomped her hoof, glaring back with challenge in her eyes. She let many things slide over the months, but not this. This was bad.

Celestia blinked and tilted her head, not seeming to understand. With a frustrated growl, Luna pointed to the broken mirror.

“Oh!” Celestia said, and gave the same laugh she gave for everything. “Not much of a mirror, is it? The maid must have broken it when she cleaned this morning.”

“The…” Luna blinked, shook her head, and blinked again. “The maid?”

“Yes, but don’t be hard on her. Dust Bunny is usually very–”

“Tia!”

The sharp retort cut off Celestia’s excuse. Luna strode forward, putting herself nose-to-nose with her sister. “I was right outside. That was you!”

Celestia turned her head away, returning to the look of confusion. The dark eyes shot everywhere but to Luna, almost seeming to panic under the inquiry.

Suddenly they stopped, and Celestia laughed again. “I sneezed. Maybe that’s what you heard.”

“Tia, I’m not falling for it.”

“‘Falling for it?’” Celestia gave a third, horrible laugh. “That’s what happened. I don’t see what’s wrong.”

Luna’s voice grew pleading, her aggression on the wane. “Come on, I know you’re lying. Tell me the truth. Please? I’m worried about you.”

That smile again. That damned smile. “That’s funny. I’ve actually been worried about you.”

The absurdity caught Luna’s response in her throat, and Celestia went on. “A thousand years is so much time. Have you been making friends? Have ponies been treating you well?”

“No, no, no!” Luna shook her head hard, pointing a hoof. “This isn’t about me, this is about you!”

Celestia responded with barely a thought. “Don’t worry about me. Really, I’m just tired and–”

Luna didn’t scream, but it came close. “I am not letting this go!”

Annoyance flashed in Celestia’s eyes. But still she smiled.

“Luna. Dear.” Her words grew harder. “I’m tired. Will you please go away?”

Luna breathed in sharply, a retort rising in her throat.

And she let it go, sighing instead of speaking. The battle was lost. 

Luna nodded curtly and stalked from the room. Resisting the urge to slam it, she closed the door gently behind her as she passed to the hallway.

Her face was a stony mask as she walked. Only when she reached her own room did she let it fall, giving a short, wordless shout of anger.

The shout ended, but the anger remained. Luna’s gaze caught the mirror, and her face twisted from frustration to rage. She stormed towards it, seeing only the murderous little brat who ruined her sister’s life. Luna raised her hoof, winding up for a right hook…

And she took a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, she let the hoof fall back to the ground.

No. It was not that girl in the mirror. Nor was it Nightmare Moon. It was Luna, the good princess. The good… sister…

She couldn’t hold her own gaze. Luna looked down, away from the mirror as tears gathered in her eyes.

“Sister.”

Maybe Luna had lost more than a thousand years. Maybe she lost a sister, too. The gulf between them was so wide now, maybe too wide to ever bridge. So many months of Celestia refusing to look twice at her… and even in that moment of weakness, Tia just shoved her away.

Celestia didn’t have a sister. She didn’t want a sister.

Luna ground her hoof into the carpet, letting her thoughts flow. Who am I to do this? I crash back into her life and expect things to go back to normal. I betray her, twist her neck right off, leave her alone for so long… and now I have the nerve to call her my sister.

Tia’s gone. We’re done. She doesn’t want me.

She sighed, hanging her head.

Then she jerked it back upwards, gasp on her lips.

“She doesn’t want me.” Luna wiped her tears and looked back to the reflection. Her eyes were puffy, yet flamed with purpose. “But she needs me.”

“She needs me.” Luna said it again, just to be sure. Tia was in trouble. Breaking a mirror, talking to visions… something was wrong with her. Something was broken, and Tia was feeling it.

But what can I do? Luna frowned, pondering. Celestia denied everything, even when faced with obvious evidence. A fireside chat would doubtless yield nothing, even if Luna could convince her to have one. Nor could anypony else help. Celestia would smile, tell them all was right, and they would believe her.

It had to be Luna, and Celestia wouldn’t talk to her. Which left…

Dreams.

Luna bit her lip. It was the one thing she promised never to do. She could enter any other pony’s dreams, but Tia’s were off limits. Dreams were a window to the soul, and she would never spy on her sister like that. She promised.

A hoof tapped as Luna thought.

It would be worse than reading her diary. She’d never forgive me if she found out. Especially now, with how secretive she is.

But she needs me. She really, truly needs help, and I’m the only pony who can. 

Her mouth grimaced. Tia was so serious when she made me swear to keep out of her dreams. We even made up this weird, rhyming promise to show how unbreakable it was. How did it go? “La, la, la… Never peek and never tell, if you lie you go to hell.” Something like that?

“If you lie you go to hell.” 

Luna’s grimace turned to a challenging smile. “Well, Tia. You’re worth it.”

> Chapter 9: Machina Ex Deus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And there, we were all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again…”

-Lyrics from American Pie, by Don McLean









Luna did not hesitate. That very night, she sent her sleep-mind to where Celestia laid and came to the dreams within.

As always, it felt like she was among the clouds. Weightless, shifting puffs of unfinished thought floated around her, uncaring of the intrusion. Inspired by the fears and loves of their host, they would sometimes twist themselves into dreams.

Celestia’s clouds were no different. Luna saw a black-robed demon appear in one, but all it did was scowl at her before dissolving into the formless sky.

There were few such clouds, which meant Celestia didn’t dream often. The air was still and stale, which meant…

Luna wasn’t sure what that meant. When ponies’ souls were in turmoil, it reflected in their dreams as violent winds and dark skies. She was less certain of what this arid stillness implied.

A puzzle, but one that would wait. Luna wasn’t here for the passing clouds.

Invisible to her, even now, laid the ground below. There rested the mother of those clouds. That thing locked away tight, by Celestia and all who ever lived. Rarely noticed, never fully realized, but there all the same.

“Cor Cordis,” they called it in the old tongue. The Heart of the Heart.

The soul.

Though her mission weighed upon her, Luna smiled as she flew towards it. “The soul.” How many debates and books had tried to plumb its mysteries? Perhaps it was a hard thing for ponies to grasp, but understanding came easily for one who had seen it. 

“The Heart of the Heart.” Who a pony really is, beneath all the masks.

Luna had seen the thing many times, and always it came as a plain and simple pony. An old mare with a beautiful lover’s heart. A child who stood as a haggard soldier, his soul worn by conflict.  And a content bursar, fat and cheerful on the inside – lazily clinging to routine, but pleased with his lot.

She even delved to Cadence’s soul once, with permission. A mischievous little filly at heart, determined to play as much as she could before adulthood claimed her.

Now, Celestia. Luna swallowed nervously as her downwards flight began to slow. A white light was growing beneath her. She would pass through it like a cloudbank, come to the ground…

…And meet her sister, face to face. Beneath the fake laughs and passive smiles.

Whatever she found, Luna swore she would embrace it. No matter how sickly or sullen, angry or even evil that Celestia was at heart, Luna would love it all. Maybe then they could be sisters again.

The light grew bright enough to blind her. She stretched her wings and slowed to a glide, coming to rest on the hard ground beneath. 

Luna blinked a few times, and squinted hard. The light was gone, but the sky and floor were so painfully white that they all but blinded her.

She rubbed a hoof in her eyes, then slowly opened them. The light-spots were clearing. She looked up.









She awoke – sweating, paralyzed, eyes shot wide. A tenor scream was in the air, and it was hers.

Lying on her back, mouth wide in its cry, Luna only stopped as she gagged on her saliva. Gasping and sputtering, she rolled over and hacked wetly into her pillow.

A few good coughs, and she pressed her face into the bed. Blue eyes peered wildly outwards, their mind knowing nothing but mad terror.

Moments passed. Her whisper broke the now-silent room. “What?”

Luna rallied her thoughts, sifting through the jumbled memories. Celestia’s dreams. The light, then the ground.

She remembered blinking hard against the harsh whiteness around her. Squinting, she had taken a single, light-addled look at the soul…

“And here I am.”

She couldn’t remember. Try as she might, Luna had no idea what she saw. It was…

It was terrible, whatever it was. Come on, Luna, think!

Still nothing. Luna rolled onto her back and sighed, allowing a frightened shiver to run down her spine. But her jaw was set, and no more screams came forth.  She knew what she would do.

She’d return. For Tia.









Luna cautiously approached her sister that morning, but nothing came of it. Celestia did not mention the intrusion, either unknowing or uncaring. Given her secretiveness, Luna guessed the former.

As ever, their chat was brief and impersonal. Celestia told Luna to play with her friends, smiled blandly, and went on her way.

The day passed at a snail’s pace. Luna flew and jogged to clear her mind, and could scarcely eat at the mealtimes. She nervously paced her room as the afternoon faded, only to race out for more exercise to speed the time.

Finally, finally, Celestia retired for the night. Luna didn’t waste an instant in charging to her own room. She carelessly shrugged out of her regalia and leapt to the bed, already beginning the spell that would let her sleep-mind wander.

A wry smile struck her face. It was strange indeed to be plunging back in after the disaster last night. But at this point, nothing was worse than the anticipation.

She hoped.









Once more, into Celestia’s dreams. Through the sky and towards the light. Luna steeled herself as she went through, coming again to the white landscape below. She landed, braced herself, and opened her eyes.

She saw it. The “what” that had sent her fleeing in blind, animal madness. Few sights could truly horrify the night princess, but she knew that thing – that thing that might be Celestia – would haunt her own nightmares forever.

It was terrible and piteous in equal, massive measures. The sky, the ground… they weren’t white, they were part of this thing that was white. Decayed plaster had replaced it all, pocked with clicking gears and whistling vents. A thousand quills on metal arms worked along its exterior, laying writing to a thousand scrolls. 

A monster. A grinding, rusting, clockwork monster. Above her, behind her, before her… it was terrifying for its alien hugeness. 

And even that was nothing compared to the head.

The being formed a mountain before Luna, and that’s where the head was. It was of normal size for Celestia, jutting out from the plaster at a right angle. It twisted and turned like a snake, allowing it to look any which way. But the neck was plaster, so whenever it bent, pieces cracked and broke off.

The head was plaster, too. A perfect image of Celestia’s smiling face. 

Except for the eyes. Luna shuddered, remembering. Those were what maddened her the last time. There was blackness where Celestia’s eyes should be. Not a hole in the plaster, or black paint or anything else. Just two orbs of nothing above that eternal, hollow smile.

The voice was exactly Celestia’s, though its mouth remained still. “Do you need something, Luna?”

Luna shook her head wildly, teeth grit. No. No! This is all wrong! There should be a pony here. Not this.

Not this! Please not this!

Tia!

“Sister!” Luna cried, fighting down her panic. “Come out of that! You are not a machine, you’re alive!”

The Celestia-thing’s smile remained unchanged. Its plaster head nodded, causing flakes to crumble from the neck. “I know I am, dear sister. But how are you? Are you adjusting well? Are you making friends?”

A rusted claw – cold and lifeless – reached out of the machine and tussled her mane. Luna recoiled at the contact, shaking violently away. “Tia, come out this instant! You are not a machine! You are…”

Luna gasped, sobbing out the last word. “Not.”

The machine’s voice cooed, like a concealed chuckle. “That’s nice of you to be worried about me. But I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”

“This isn’t about me,” Luna snapped. “It’s about you!”

“It’s not about me,” The voice responded. Always calm, always kindly. “It’s never about me.”

Luna stomped a hoof into the plaster floor, voice shattering as she spoke. “Tia! This! Is! About! You! Now stop avoiding it!”

“You seem upset.” It said the obvious, reaching the claw up to stroke her cheek. “Is any pony being mean to you? Are you lonely? I know Cadence lives far away now, but you said you liked Twilight Sparkle. Do you miss her? You can visit Ponyville again if you...”

Luna didn’t hear the rest. She just fell to her knees and cried, thoughts hammering through her head.

Tia… what happened?

What did I do to you!?

She threw her head back and neighed mournfully, ignoring the warm whispers of the machine voice, and the loving touch of its lifeless claw. 









Luna departed in tears. She flew up through the clouds, ignoring the half-formed dreams around her.

In her sorrow, she didn’t see that one particular dream ignored her in turn.

Had she been thinking clearly, Luna might have noticed that something was amiss. But maybe not – even for a dream, the thing was tiny. All that yet existed was a drowsy, idle awareness that it was waking up. 

Its bleary senses gradually sharpened, taking note of the dreams around it.

Ponies.

The first conscious feeling was of pleasant surprise. Ponies were a new thing for it, and that was good. Something interesting. Something fun. 

It smiled, a small one at first. Then the smile grew, and the other mouths joined in.
> Chapter 10: Midnight Rising
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now we shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.”

-H.P Lovecraft, American Author









Foolish though it might be, Luna kept trying. She stole into Celestia’s dreams three more times, and always the machine was there. And always, she made no headway. It would reflect her questions with maternal grace, trying to bring the conversation around to others. Sometimes Luna, sometimes Twilight, sometimes all of Equestria.

And it would always assure her that Celestia was fine, even as it decayed. The head’s plaster horn fell off on Luna's third visit, and one gear after another rusted to stillness. One pen would cease its scratching, one steam vent would go silent, yet a thousand more toiled onwards. Endlessly working, endlessly crumbling, endlessly telling her not to worry. The plaster face would smile, and the nothing-eyes would wake Luna from her own nightmares.

Some days, she would avoid Celestia. It was hard to look at her now, knowing that thing laid just beneath the skin. Even awake, Luna couldn’t help but see it. In the white face, the practiced smile. The dark eyes…

Tia looked so hollow, now. A thin sack of bones, beneath a limp neck and sallow eyes. She smiled and laughed, but these things had no feeling. Perhaps they were not even an act, but a machined creation. A lifeless, engineered response without the even the creativity of a lie.

The questions burned within Luna. What was beneath that smile? What was inside that sad, grinding monster with the black eyes?

Maybe nothing. Maybe that’s all Celestia was, anymore. A machine. A machine smile and machine heart, deflecting all care because there was nothing of her left to care for.

Luna began getting out of Canterlot as often as she could. To visit the new Princess Twilight in Ponyville, or Cadence in her empire.

Whenever Celestia came up in conversation, the two young alicorns got stars in their eyes. They gushed at how smart and kind she was, and Luna did not correct them. What could she say? That the mare who ruled alone for a thousand years was… was what? Luna didn’t even know. 

Maybe there was no deeper answer. Maybe the machine was all that remained. If that was the case…









Then somewhere along the way, I really did lose my sister. 

Luna took her tea alone one evening, staring into the cup. She doesn’t need me anymore. She doesn’t love me.

It made sense. That monster within was so sincere, so insistent, how could it not be Celestia? It was her Cor Cordis.

And me? Luna wondered, frowning. I’m the intruder, invading her dreams for no reason but to meddle. Trying to fix her when she isn’t broken. She’s fine. She’s been fine for a thousand years, and she’s fine now.

She threw her head to the side, snarling in frustration. “But what if I’m wrong? What if she’s – I don’t know – tired? Pained? Losing her mind? What’s ‘you,’ Tia? Is that thing really ‘you?’”

“Heh.” Luna gave a short, bitter laugh. “I wonder if she asked the same question about Nightmare Moon.”

The smile faded, but so did the frustration. Remembering her own corruption… well, that hashed it. A reminder of how much she owed her sister.

She’d keep trying. Luna would keep talking to Celestia, both asleep and awake. No matter how annoyed her sister got, or how many times the machine turned her questions around. She’d keep right on shoving her snout into Tia’s business, unasked for and unwanted. 

Like a good sister should. And though Celestia might not be Luna’s sister, Luna was most assuredly hers.









Conviction aside, Luna needed a break. The chilling encounters and following nightmares had left her exhausted. She needed sleep – not dream-walking, but real sleep.

So she slept. She slept the next night too, and the rest for a week. It took only a few nights for the shock to dim, and the nightmares of black eyes to fade. Luna was nothing if not a lucid dreamer, and soon saw the bad dreams for what they were: a hurtful memory, and nothing more.

She had been looking forward to nights of blissful unconsciousness. Nights of allowing even her sleep-mind to rest, leaving her refreshed each morning for the days ahead.



“Slap.” 



Instead, she awoke one night with a startled gasp.

The sound was all she could remember, nonsensical as it was. “Slap.” Not like a hoof on a cheek, but a quiet whiplash. A random, gentle noise, without any vision or feeling attached to it.

Whatever the source, it was gone. Luna frowned, annoyed, and rolled over. It couldn’t have been a dream. She always could tell when her own dream-clouds formed. 

It must have been real, then. Maybe a night guard was flicking his tail against something. 

“No discipline,” Luna grumbled, letting the drowsiness reclaim her.









“Slap. Slap.” 

The next night saw her startle once more. Again, the soft slap and the frightened, instinctive gasp into wakefulness. 

Still no source. No reason to be afraid.

When it happened the third night, Luna irately cursed the night guards and vowed to sleep somewhere else for a change. She had been meaning to go to Ponyville again.

She left that day, and the visit proved enjoyable. The librarian-turned-princess Twilight was as friendly as ever, and embarrassed as ever about her humble guest room. Its bed was built for unicorns, leaving small room for Luna's wings. 

As ever, Luna did not mind. She wouldn’t want to sleep in it every night, but there was something cozy about the small bed and plaid blanket. Canterlot was her home, but Twilight’s library felt “homey” in a way the gilded palace could never match.









“Slap.” 

Noise. Gasp. Awake.

Nothing.

This time, Luna wasn’t annoyed. She was curious. Not an idle curiosity either, but a guarded, wary one. A curiosity that bid her to stretch her magical senses forth, searching in vain for spellcraft or an intruder.

A few minutes brought out every detection spell Luna knew, and still nothing. The night was still, the air was silent, and all seemed right with the world.

Luna’s face turned to a worried frown, her mind unconvinced. The same little noise, night after night. It felt too strange to be a coincidence.

Perhaps she was startling at shadows. The… feeling? Dream? Sound? Whatever it was, it seemed to only come once a night. Luna snuggled back into the homely blankets, feeling herself grow drowsy once more. 

Sleep, however, eluded her. Luna stared out the window as the night passed, mane twitching to the beat of her pondering thoughts.









The following night, back in Canterlot, Luna kept her sleep-mind awake. She floated among her own clouds – pawing at them, sniffing, searching for the source of that noise.

After the first fruitless minutes, she blushed at the silliness of it all. The Great Night Princess, paranoid of her own dreams! What foalishness.

Yet Luna was the night princess. She did not dream without knowing it. Not of slapping, not of anything.

The dream-clouds had no answers. Celestia half-formed in one, staring out mournfully with empty eyes. Luna winced, but she beat her wings once and dispersed the image. I haven’t forgotten, Tia. I just need to take care of this.

No invader, no noise. There wasn’t even a coherent dream tonight. Luna kept winging around the intangible space, searching for something that might not exist. Some sign, some source of that–

“Slap.” 

Luna’s ears flew up, and her mouth rose to a triumphant grin. There was something making that noise in here. It wasn’t just her nerves, and it wasn’t a sound from the waking world. After days of confusion, that little certainty was a victory. With fast pumps of her wings, she shot off in the direction it came from.

Silence, then a single “Slap.”  It… might have been to her right? Luna turned and flew on.

Nothing. Just dream-clouds.

“Slap,”  to her left. She turned, and “Slap,”  above her head.

Luna slowed, letting herself float without effort. She gazed around, wondering if there were many intruders… but no, that was foalish. How could she be surrounded when there was nothing else here?

“Slap,” to her left again, but Luna didn’t chase it. She turned in a tight circle, glaring, mentally demanding the non-existent invader come forth.

A growl rumbled from her throat, the noise growing to a frustrated shout. Stonewalled. This was her realm, it was even in her mind! She knew everything there was to know about the dream-sky, so why did this elude her? How did this elude her?

The slap came again as she yelled, unimpeded by the noise. Still as crisp and soft as ever.

Lune blinked in surprise, Her rage ending abruptly. The slap should have been lost in her shouting. 

Seizing the clue, Luna plugged her hooves into her ears. She waited, waited, and–

“Slap.” The noise was clear, not softened in the least by her covered ears. 

This time, she didn’t smile at the revelation. It was just another question answered with a question. 

This slapping wasn’t mere sound. It was a feeling, one that affected the reality of her dreams. Somehow meaningful, somehow important, but she couldn’t fathom why.

The night passed without further incident, and Luna felt her spirits rise. This strange noise, this anomaly… it was troubling, yes, but she would be lying to claim that she wasn't excited. It was a new mystery, far from Celestia’s well-ordered court.

Luna smiled into wakefulness, letting her mind slip into fantasy. Perhaps this would lead to some great trouble that only she could solve. She would do it with style, right in front of Tia. It would remind the older sister that Luna wasn’t some stranger, but a beloved sister, and an equal to her might. They would start splitting the work again, leaving plenty of time for outings and sleepovers, parties and pillow fights…

“Pillow fights?” Luna laughed, rising from the bed. “That’s a bit too much to hope for. Maybe we can just sit and read together when this is all done.”

“But where to start? ” Luna’s smile fell as she rose from the bed, her mind already turning with theories. None of them made sense. For all her knowledge of the dream world, she had no idea what was happening in there.

“Maybe I need an amateur’s opinion,” she mused, stepping into her hoof cups. “An outsider might notice something I can’t.”

Tia’s name entered her mind, and was discarded just as quickly. Twilight’s took only a moment longer – the young princess was an analyst by nature, who solved problems with logical deduction. She would flounder with these vague notions and feelings.

“Cadence.” Luna said the name as she exited, drawing a glance from a passing courtier. It had been a while since she’d seen her modern-day mentor. The pink princess lived in the Crystal Empire now, but distance meant little to one who could walk through dreams.









Her timing was bad. Luna caught Cadence in the middle of a nightmare.

Being a pony who trod dreams as easily as sidewalks, Luna had a different perspective on nightmares than most. As scary as they could be, they were harmless images cast by the sleeping mind. No more real than the horror movie she once watched with Cadence and Shining Armor.

Luna smiled, stepping through the ethereal smoke that rose as she entered. “Horror movie.” The analogy fit well.

It was a guilty pleasure, but she got no shortage of amusement from monster-variety nightmares. Especially her own. And if the Sombralite cultist slashed her up at the end of a tense chase, that just made it a good, edge-of-your-seat dream. The next morning she would laugh about it, wondering what ever made her fear him so.

Nightmares were important as well as fun, so she rarely interfered. They often were just the mind’s way of releasing stress. If this proved a truly terrible dream, Cadence would simply awaken, feel relief at its end, and appreciate her life all the more. It would cause no harm, and perhaps bring a little good.

Luna looked around, noticing that this was one of those “wake you up sweating” kind of nightmares. Cadence wasn’t even visible, though surely she saw the awful destruction around them. It was an alien city, with straight metal towers that clawed the sky. Yet the towers were ruined, and the city laid as a wasteland of steel and stone. 

Unpleasant sights, but the truly fearful things were above and below those towers. Above, it seemed at first to be merely a strange night sky, its color weaved randomly between purple and black. Stranger still, the stars clustered normally in some places, yet were entirely gone from others.

Only with the second look did Luna see the correlation. Where the sky was its normal purple, the stars were there. Where it was black, they were gone. And the blackness was moving. It wasn’t the sky, but the black tendrils of some massive thing that stood in the way. Looming above the city, waving to the will of some hateful brain. They branched out from a towering figure, too far away to make out details.

Luna swallowed hard. She knew that later she would think about what a thrilling, excellent nightmare this was. Now, she shrunk back and hoped the thing’s gaze was elsewhere.

However massive they were, those tendrils were merely part of the scenery. The action, the attention, was on the creatures below. They were feral, growling things that stood on two or four gangly limbs. They had grey, hairless skin and hooked noses, and wore rags in the place of clothes. 

Some of the rags had once been fine silks. Others, resplendent uniforms. But they were rags still, and no distinction was drawn between their wearers.

Only one seemed different. An upright elder with a wrinkled grey face, trying to teach their history to the snarling pack. He said they were great once. It was they who built those skyscrapers. 

But then it came to them. The Cruel Dark. The Laughing Apocalypse. Casting their great civilization to ruin. Heedless of every weapon, scornful of every champion.

He showed a tattered flag in his claws, the fabric still bright with reds and blues. It was surely a great symbol, surely had once been defended with honor and pride.

“We must remember,” the elder said. “That we may retain who we once were, and rebuild when the beast is gone.”

The mob heard nothing. With animal grunts and snorts, they charged him. They tore into the elder’s flesh and crammed those clawfuls into their mouths. They brawled over the meat, clubbing each other with rocks, pistols, and strange weapons surely not built for clubbing. 

It was gruesome, but merely a movie. Luna glanced around, idly impressed that Cadence hadn’t been shocked awake. The girl was made of sterner stuff than she guessed.

In the course of that glance, a new figure caught her eye. So absurd and out of place that Luna laughed out loud. It was a bipedal being in a dapper white coat and hat, sitting at an unblemished desk perched not three paces to her right. Playing solitaire of all things with its white-gloved hands, hat low on its face.

“Ah, the randomness of dreams.” Luna smiled, unable to resist sidling up to the player. “Where’s the pink elephant?”

The dream-thing ignored her, studiously examining the cards. It could place a black seven on two different spaces, and the choice would make or break the game.

Luna shrugged, her amusement fading. She’d seen stranger. Grinning goofily, she gave it a polite nod before stepping past. The nightmare was holding Cadence’s attention, and Luna felt it would be rude to interrupt. She’d try again tomorrow.

Step by step, until Luna felt the dream fade behind her. A glance back showed the degenerates were already lost to sight, and the card player had made its decision. With a quick movement, it flipped the black seven onto its new spot with a “Slap.” 

Luna turned in an instant, her good humor replaced by adrenaline. The not-dream was still there, obliviously playing its game.

“Slap.”

Luna bolted towards it, but the world vanished. Cadence had awoken, doubtless horrified.

Yet not half as horrified as Luna. She floated in the middle space a moment, mind racing with useless theories as a chill worry gripped her heart. No extra thought was spared for Cadence. She would be fine, and Shining Armor would probably love the free cuddle.

“Shining Armor… hm.” Luna frowned, thinking. What if…

No, it was silly to think Shining Armor might have the same dream, or that the player might be there. That’s not how dreams worked.

She dove into his mind all the same, knowing she had moments before Cadence woke him. It was worth a look. Anything for answers.



They were lizard-like creatures, though they had pony minds of reason and kindness. Those minds knew only despair as they fired massive cannons, aimed at a foe Luna could not see in the blackness. 

No, it was the blackness. Some fled, others just sat down and cried as the black tendrils fell upon them. Their cannons were a mile tall, yet stood as mere toys before the monster. It knocked them aside with lazy swings, pressing on to the city behind.



Then it was gone. Cadence had yanked Shining Armor from his sleep, probably to his relief.

No relief for Luna. Just more questions, and a rising fear. The card player hadn’t shown in this one, but it was far too similar for her to rest easy.

It could still be a coincidence. Hoping to catch her lucid, Luna leaped to Twilight Sparkle’s dreams. Maybe the young princess would have some insight that–



Feathered aliens bowed before the advancing tendrils, shivering and weeping. They praised it, slaughtered their newborn for it, and slew those who refused. All in the hope of mercy.

Their prayers were but terrified begging, unheeded as the massive coils fell upon them. They turned and murdered each other, fixated on the notion that enough blood would appease it…



Luna reeled outwards, struck by the mindlessness of it all. She fell into the library’s other resident – the young Spike, curled up in his basket.



Different, yet it was the same in so many ways. A white-suited president who launched continent-shattering missiles, provoking his foes to respond in kind. He laughed as the world exploded around him, and his shadow danced and grew…



Luna charged, certain beyond thought that he was the solitaire player. But his form simply broke apart as she connected. This one was just a dream-cloud.

She leapt to another dream, fear driving her faster. She wasn’t seeking answers anymore. Luna just wanted to find a good dream, or even an empty one. Anything to show that this wasn’t so bad. Just a string of coincidences. 

Rarity’s house was nearby. What nightmares could possibly haunt the innocent dressmaker?



“You’re sure this will work?” A man in a sharp grey uniform glared at the white-suited stranger. But behind that glare laid enough greed to douse his suspicion. 

“Of course,” said the stranger, and they dropped his gurgling black gas into the enemy cities. The world was conquered, yet the gas settled into the sky. Time passed, and the man in grey ripped his gilded collar, gasping and gagging as the last good air was eaten away.



Drunkenly, Luna shot upwards and let herself be drawn into the dream of that cheerful prankster, Rainbow Dash. Maybe there would be nothing. Maybe–



They had no hair, but were beautiful all the same. Lithe and fair, gathered around a tree so huge that Canterlot Mountain could be held within. Their cities were among its branches – bright, beautiful, glittering. 

The tree was on fire. Claws had emerged from the great black form, tearing into the cities. The beast was wrapped around the tree, slowly pulling it to the ground while its mouths ate at the wood. The fair people had turned their swords on each other – not out of fear, but mercy. The tree was their everything. Better to die without seeing it fall.



“Where is he?” Luna growled, shooting back downwards into… Pinkie Pie? “Oh no, not her…”



At least this one was quiet. Beings of gears and rusted iron stood atop a snowy mountain that had once been their castle. They carried stone spears and searched for oil, but their hunt was at its end. They had finally rusted in place, doomed to silently watch the thing that blocked out the sky…



There was certainty in Luna’s heart, and that certainty had eaten the fear. This thing – whatever it was, wherever it was – was an enemy. 

If it was coming, it would meet its end. Her adrenaline rose as she dove into Applejack’s dream, seeking some greater sign of the fiend.



The biped alien had a torn trench coat, and his arm was bleeding. But he held a revolving pistol stoically towards the thing in white, a hero’s heart beating hard in his chest. 

“Why?” he asked. “Why us? Do you hate us?” The fiend shook its head, and the hero’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Is this just some sick game to you?” 

It smiled. Their shadows touched, the gun fired, and the dream ended.



Luna shook her head, finally discarding the foolish dream-jumping. If the thing itself was only in one dream at a time, she could spend all night searching without success.

“Tia,” she breathed, and sped her consciousness towards Canterlot. Tia definitely needed to know about this.

She came to her own dreams, already inured to the worst. Another world of ash and ruin. Another people lost to madness and despair. 

The details hardly mattered. Luna ran straight through the panicking crowds and falling towers, ignoring them for the dream-clouds they were. She drew in a deep breath, about to rouse her body from its slumber.

But then she heard it. The quiet, innocent, “Slap.”

There were too many clouds around her. Too many fleeing, screaming forms of strangers she could never save. No sign of the culprit.

Luna gave a challenging, snarling grin. If it was taunting her, it made a mistake. She had the power here.

Her horn glowed a starry black, and Luna slammed a hoof into the illusory concrete. The land erupted around her like dust in a shock wave. The mobs and buildings, and the tendrils that lay over them, all were blasted to nothingness. Her wave stretched and expanded, overrunning the doomed world. The countless dream-clouds were gone, and she was left in an empty sky.

Luna had never done that before, not even to end those dreams she cut short. It would be months before she could dream again.

But it was worth it. Every mote of a dream was gone from this place, and yet she was not alone.

It – whatever it was – was here. A patch of wood flooring held its seat and desk, floating some miles away.

The distance mattered nothing to Luna. She channeled raw, violent magic into her horn and shot it outwards. The beam’s center was a starry blue, with white lightning crackling around it. A hasty blow, but entirely worthwhile if she could catch it off-guard.

“It’s never that easy,” Luna grumbled, aware of its futility as the shot passed right through. She felt no resistance. No physical hit, no magical shield or counter-blow.

A pensive frown marked her face. Even if the thing was insubstantial, she should have felt something. Some brief connection with whatever magic or un-magic it possessed. Instead, it was as though the thing wasn’t even there.

It didn’t so much as acknowledge the blow. It just kept its attention on the desk, where presumably the cards were still laid out.

Luna watched, braced to dodge at an instant’s notice. She crouched as its hand rose, but it was just holding a card. It slapped back to the table, echoing the familiar sound across the empty space.

A long minute passed, silent save for the gentle turning of cards. Luna glared at the thing, mentally daring it to accept her challenge. Part of her hoped that it would – a literal age had passed since she’d fought in this realm, and some feral side of her relished the chance to do so again.

That warrior-voice bid her strike once more, but Luna resisted. There was no reason to think a second blow would be less futile than the first.

And… Luna was curious. As horrible as those nightmares were, this card-player had shown no aggression. She didn’t sense any wickedness in it, though it eluded all senses but sight and sound. Like it was a character in a movie, existing nowhere but on its screen.

Slowly, still wary, Luna flew closer. If it was harmless, fine. If it wasn’t, she would need to learn everything she could.

A little closer, and then a little more. She’d only glanced at it in Cadence’s dream, recalling little but the suit and hat. Looking far more closely now, Luna saw that its form was queerly tall, and even its shoes and buttons were white. Its gloved hands had two more joints than a monkey’s or dragon’s, stretching its fingers to be nearly as long as its head. The desk and floor were plain – so plain that they seemed a mere drawing, with uniform brown where even the shadows should fall.

It looked at her.

Luna gave a start, half-dodging the attack that never came. No strike, no verbal challenge. Just a look.

But Luna couldn’t say what it used to see her. The face was black as a funeral shroud, and shiny as though wet. It was featureless – no eyes, no chin or nose. There wasn’t even a mark where these things should be.

She swallowed hard, noting that it was not quite faceless. It tilted its head, changing the light's reflection off its rubbery skin. The motion highlighted two narrow dimples around the absent mouth.

They and the jaw moved appropriately as it spoke, like it was a creature wearing a mask. “Hello.” 

The voice was cheerily spoken, as if to a well-loved friend. Luna’s, in turn, was guarded as she crossed the last few steps between them. She held herself well, determined to show her own strength. “Stranger, I am Princess Luna. Guardian of the dreams you have intruded upon. What are you called?”

It tilted its head again, seeming to consider before giving its response. “‘Absalom’ will do. It is what I was calledSCREAMED by the last world.”

Luna stepped back, guard raised as new voices spoke. When Absalom’s friendly words reached “called,” a shrill, bird-like screech offered, “Screamed,” seeming to come from its head as well. And a third voice emerged after them, giving itself in an urgent whisper.

Absalom moved, but it was only to flip the next set of three cards from the deck.

The voices were startling, but Luna’s visage remained stern and imperial. “Absalom. Why are you moving through my ponies’ dreams?”

The top card was a red jack. No fit, so it flipped the next three. “Moving? I’m not moving.”

Luna opened her mouth to counter the claim, but Absalom’s next, casual words got out first. “Look up.”

Wary, Luna gave it a gauging look before obliging. She meant to just take a quick glance, but the sight arrested her. 

Rather than more of the empty dream-sky, it was as though she was gazing into space. So much distance stretched out before her vision, going on and on and on, all in perfect clarity. Yet it wasn’t the empty space that greeted her, but whole worlds. Cities and tendrils, and breaking continents…

And in each one, a pony. Sometimes in the midst of the chaos, sometimes watching from above. Luna saw the bird aliens from Twilight’s dream, and realized the truth of it. “You’re in all of the dreams. At once.”

“This is a fixed point, right here,” Absalom said in its smooth, genteel voice. “I’m not in ‘a’ dream, I’m in ‘dream.’ Don’t ask me how, I know I don’t care. I just know that peoples’TOYS’ dreams always get like this tonight.”

Ignored the bird-voice’s scream, Luna asked the obvious question. “What happens tonight?”

Another set of three were drawn, and still no matches for any of the face-up cards. Absalom seemed to twitch in annoyance, more focused on the losing game than the talk. “I finish my trip. I arrive.”

“On this world?” Luna asked sharply.

“On this reality,” Absalom distractedly corrected her, flipping another set. “Or whatever. Dimension? Plane? Those words aren’t exactly right, but they’re as close as your tongue can get. Think of it like a plant, if you will. The dreams are the topsoil. The last layer before I sprout.”

Luna grimaced. What little doubt she had of this thing’s danger was gone. Here was a tremendous threat, and it wouldn’t be contained easily.

Still, she resisted waking up. This Absalom was talkative, and he might not be so conversant when he emerged. Maybe he would let slide a clue, or some hint of a weakness.

“Are those your memories?” she asked. “Those dreams. Did you destroy those worlds?”

“Yes to both,” he grumbled, flipping another three cards to no benefit.

“Why?”

The voice grew droll. “Why do you think?”

Luna blinked, wrong-hoofed by the question. Absalom gave her another eyeless glance and went on. “Are you expecting a beast, mindlessly eating the universe? Or perhaps some age-old planHA, slowly being brought to fruition?”

Lune shrugged, goading it forward.

“It is nothing so interesting.” Absalom readily went on. Though her outside remained impassive, Luna’s heart gave a predatory grin. Ramble away, fiend. I’ll use it all against you.

But the good feeling died with his next words. “I like doing it,” he said casually, as if comparing tea flavors. “It’s fun. Like a game.”

“Game!?” Luna asked, too shocked to say anything else. All that... all that death and destruction… 

Her mind reeled, and she looked up again. How many worlds were there? A thousand? All gone, for the sake of petty amusement? It wouldn’t change anything if Absalom had a greater scheme, or an evil cause it was fighting for. But at least it would be sane. 

This wasn’t sane. This thing was mad. Its madness was obvious even now, with its attention so casually returned to the cards. Those too-long fingers were steepled in their white gloves, once more perched over the draw topped with the red jack.

“A game,” the thing confirmed. “Skill, luck, and strategy. One side wins, the other does not.” 

Absalom’s hand swiped over the stack, plucking a red three from beneath the jack and setting it under a four. 

“You cheated.”

“Hm?” Absalom looked at her again, blank face somehow feigning innocence.

Luna smiled fiercely at it – at this thing she would kill right now, if only she could. 

“You’re only allowed to play the top card. You definitely cheated.”

Absalom looked down at the table, seeming to eye where she called him out on. A long second passed, and its dimples pulled upwards. Such a pony-like expression on that blank face, and Luna knew exactly what it meant.

It was smiling.

“I like to play,” Absalom said, this time sounding as much like the bird as the gentleman. “But I don’t lose.”

“You will,” Luna snarled, still grinning violently. She slammed a hoof down on its desk, her nose scant inches from the faceless face.

“You will lose,” she said again. And she believed it, for she had no choice. “We’ll strike you down. We’ll save ourselves, and all who you would have slain after us.”

Absalom gave no immediate reaction. It settled back in its chair, leaning away from Luna. Slender fingers reached into its jacket and pulled out a silver pocket watch. 

With a click, the face opened. The monster seemed to glance at the time, and smiled again. “By all means. Show me your righteousness, your unconquerable conviction. You’ll soon find that it’s no substitute for power.”

Luna gave a snort, her savage grin not faltering in the slightest. “You’ve never met my kind before. For ponies, conviction is power.”

Absalom’s smile widened. Luna swore there was a hairline tear forming between the dimples, but she only saw it for an instant. 

Then the watch snapped closed. The dreams ended at once as Luna and the rest of Equestria tumbled into wakefulness.
> Chapter 11: The Hollow Messiah
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.”

-From Nyarlathotep, by H.P. Lovecraft









Twilight Sparkle awoke, and the first thing she did was sigh in relief. She had a stuffy headache and cramped wings, but these wakeful feelings were welcome. Anything to get away from the nightmare.

She shivered, remembering. The strange bird-like things, worshiping the very monster that destroyed them. So bizarre and horrific that even its memory sent chills down her spine.

“Just a nightmare,” Twilight mumbled, and she rolled out of bed. She wobbled as her hooves hit the ground, feeling the headache grow worse. It was like somepony filled her skull so full of water that the pressure clamped down on her brain. She groaned feebly, pawing at popped ears and willing the sensation to go away.

It didn’t. Growling with bleary frustration, Twilight cradled her forehead as she stepped down the stairs. Coffee. Coffee would help.

She rubbed the ears again, trying to work the “pop” out of them. No such luck. The pressure was so thick she could hear it as a dull, endless buzzing of insects. Thrumming incessantly into her aching sinuses, evilly extending the night’s misery into morning.

Another groan rolled from her mouth as a few sharp noises broke the monotone buzz. Then a few more, faster than the first .

Twilight blinked and woke up a little more, recognizing the sound. Somepony was knocking. Twilight passed a hoof through her bedhead mane, not doubting for a second her looks matched her mood.

The toothbrush and comb were back upstairs, and she had no intention of making the journey. Whoever it was would have to deal with an unkempt princess.

She got halfway to the entrance before another sound assaulted her aching ears. A loud crash as her door flew open, startling the last cobwebs from Twilight’s brain.

On the other side were Rainbow Dash’s upturned hind legs, fresh from bucking the door off its hinges. A dozen expressions of annoyance and indignation rose to Twilight’s throat, her tongue readying itself for a lashing.

She held it, though. This was strange.

Something was wrong.

“Twilight!” Rainbow’s hidden face shrieked the words. The pegasus’ wings flapped wildly, turning her body as she shot through the doorway. The reason for her odd mode of entry was made apparent – Rainbow’s forehooves were plugging her ears, and as she turned in the air Twilight saw the panicked look on her face.

“Make it stop!” Rainbow mewled, looking to the princess with dinner-plate eyes.

“What? What!?” Twilight's own fear rose at her friend’s distress. “Rainbow, make what stop? The buzzing?”

Twilight half-laughed as she said it. How could another pony hear her headache? The dull, aching thrum had so oppressed her brain that she was saying the dumbest–

Rainbow nodded. “And its voice.”

“Huh?” Twilight cocked her head. It was just a headache, it wasn’t–

She heard it. Rather, she felt it. The smooth, cultured voice spoke, turning the monotone throb into hammer blows on her brain. Twilight cried out in surprise as the first syllables emerged from the dull buzz.



“Reasons. You’ll search for them, in the coming days.”



The words slithered into her mind, clearer than anything. Clearer than the buzzing, than the panicked shouts and groans trickling in from the street.



“Some reasons of ‘how’ or ‘what’ may cross your minds. Yet above all, you’ll wonder at the reason ‘why.’” 



Even at this early moment, tiny relief was had. The pressure seemed to leak from Twilight's brain, easing the throbbing headache. But the voice grew louder, ever more distinct from the thrumming behind it.



“‘Why us?’ ‘Why me?’ ‘We don’t deserve this.’”



Now followed a strange rumbling as two other sounds rose within her mind. One seemed like a bird giving a dry, rattling laugh. It drowned out its neighbor – an urgent whisper, speaking a warning that could not be heard.

“Rainbow!” Twilight shook her friend with a hoof. “Rainbow!”

Rainbow had been looking fearfully upwards, and now turned back to Twilight. The panic was still in her eyes, but at least she held it inside.

“I need you to focus,” Twilight continued in the best friendly-yet-commanding voice she could muster. “Get the girls over here. I’ll start a teleportation circle, and it should be ready by the time you all show.”

“Where to?”

“Where do you think?” Twilight shouted, her voice cracking as she pushed Rainbow to the door. “Canterlot!”









“The ‘why’ of the matter is all very simple. But you won’t find it in the little science and prayer books you’ve used for all your ‘whys’ before now.”



“Chatty bastard, isn’t he?” Shining Armor said it breathlessly, with a weak, nervous laugh. He was scared, and the joke did nothing to hide it.

“Language, dear.” Cadence chided, using the words to hide a whimper. She was much the same. Their smiles exchanged little comfort.

Comfort or no, there was trust between them. When Shining’s magic grew too nervous to strap his armor, Cadence leaned in and helped. And then he returned the favor, closing the buckles on his wife’s crystalline plates.



“This isn’t fate, punishment, or anything silly like that. You are simply my playthings, and that is the only reason you and everything you know will die.”



The pair moved strangely as the bleak morning went on. Both Shining and Cadence were so scared they could hardly do a thing for themselves. Yet when either one noticed the other fumbling, they took over and performed the task with certainty. They were tied by love, amplified by Cadence’s magic a thousand-fold. They could feel each other’s emotions, sometimes even their thoughts.

The link made it twice as hard for them, burdening each with their own and their lover’s fear. But rising up all the fiercer against it was their devotion to each other. The certainty that everything was going to be okay, because they would be protected. Shining Armor would protect Cadence, and Cadence would protect Shining Armor.

“If Aunt Celestia even needs us,” Cadence chuckled, bringing a fresh warmth of assurance to both of them. “But we should hurry, just in case. Good thing I had them put a seat belt on the armor.”









“It amuses me. Watching you twist. Watching you scream. Watching the reasons you will invent for yourselves.”



Luna’s armor stood in a glass case in her room. Glittering silver and blue, enchanted a dozen times over.

She gave it a short glance before turning away. A young mare’s toy. Luna had been in enough battles to value her own skills over the armor’s cumbersome strength.

Even her regalia was ignored as she strode from the room. The crown and necklace, left behind. She never thought to have them rune-scribed for battle, and now it was too late.



“It isn’t fair. But life isn’t fair, now is it?”



“Like a psychopath child,” Luna grumbled as she strode down the hallway. She grinned fiercely at the guards she saw, and they took heart and smiled back.

Her long legs trembled – out of nervousness, yes, but also excitement. There would be risk today. There’d come danger and violence, and if they failed it might be the end of everything. 

But there was opportunity as well. In the two years since Luna returned, she had never been so useful, never so much a princess as she would be today. This was something Celestia couldn’t sideline her from. They would work together, defeat this evil, and Celestia would see. Luna was her equal. Her sister.

It was a guilty fantasy, to be imagining the benefits of this crisis. Luna recognized that, and accepted it. Nopony’s perfect.



“For I am the Black Comet. I am the Thousand and the Zero.” 









“I am the Eater of Days, The Laughing End, and a thousand other names, screamed to me by those who came before you.”



Celestia was still in bed. The last to rise, but among the first to realize not all was right in the world. She knew her dreams, and saw the nightmare was not her own. 

She knew her pains, too. They were old friends after so many years, those aches in the wings and head. This pain was alien, this headache from an outside force. From the very second she roused, Celestia knew today would bring hardship.

But she lay for long moments as the pressure lessened and the voice spoke. Her mind ignored the words, instead broiling in near-panic beneath the tranquil face.

First Luna. Now this. Why did the world keep changing? 

What was she doing wrong?



“Now come the bad times. The hunger times, the dark times. The grief times, the mad times, the brother-against-brother times.”



Celestia shivered, letting the tremor run through her body. Whatever this thing was, it would be strong. Perhaps stronger than she. It sounded so amused, so wickedly sure of itself.

A sigh escaped her, and she pressed her nose to the mattress. Celestia felt… thin. She felt tired and feeble, and wondered if she could match such a fiend. Maybe she couldn’t.

No! Don’t think that!

Her body convulsed with sudden energy as an opposing thought struck her. Celestia tore her head up and looked left, to the shelf above her bed.

There sat Greyfeather’s old statue. The great, wise and good Princess Celestia, standing glorious and triumphant. The unconquered, undefeatable sun. Perfect, shining and golden.

“I am her,” Celestia said lowly, and she almost believed it.

She said it again, “I am her,” and believed it enough to look away. She stood from the bed and quickly got dressed. Like Luna she shunned the heavy armor, though took a moment to don her regalia.

Rooke was there – Rooke was dead of course, but Celestia didn’t care. The ghost said nothing, silently clasping the necklace beneath her old friend’s mane.

A greater surprise came when Celestia turned to the mirror. She brought a hoof up to straighten her tiara, but her reflection made no move to follow. Celestia blinked and frowned, while the mare in the mirror smiled back sadly. 

The other princess raised a hoof and gave a single, subdued wave. Celestia half-raised her own before realizing the idiocy of it. “What’s this?” she asked, more to herself than the mirror.

“This…” The image looked down, swallowed hard, and looked back up. A familiar, practiced smile was on its face. “I think this is goodbye. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.”

Celestia jerked her head away, unwilling to respond. Unwilling to wonder at this new ghost, or the words it spoke.

Just another vision. Ignore it, ignore it…

Mentally chanting her denial, Celestia stalked from the room. Her mouth dry, her eyes like pinpricks, she strode quickly through the door and shut it behind her.

The mare’s words lingered in her mind, and Celestia shoved them away. They were wrong, she knew, for she was Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden. A new foe had arrived only to be vanquished, to learn too late the folly of threatening her routine.

No, that was wrong. Celestia hesitated before she left the parlor, trying to remember the reason. Why…?

The ponies. Of course, it’s about them. I just forgot for a moment.

She spread her wings, and even that caused the disused muscles to cramp. Celestia thought little of it, well-knowing the battle ahead would bring far greater wounds.

Maybe too many for her to survive. Maybe the reflection was right.

“So be it,” Celestia growled, bitter and tired of her doubts. They were useless. She would give battle, and what would come, would come.

She entered the throne room and put on her gentle smile for those around. Luna was there without ornament, tapping her hoof and talking lowly with the Crystal royals. Shining Armor and Cadence wore matching suits of blue armor, standing joined at the flank as they nodded to Luna’s words.

Twilight and her friends were present as well, standing halfway down the audience chamber. They laughed together at some joke told between them, though the laughter was sputtered and nervous.

All fell silent as Celestia strode in. The Elements ran forward and bowed, as did Shining and Cadence. Luna grinned at her sister, far too cheerful for the task at hoof. 

She smiles because she knows I’ll protect her. Celestia nodded at the thought. She gave an appropriate little chuckle, hoping to ease their nerves. “Alright, everypony. I don’t suppose any of you have information for me?”

Luna opened her mouth, but one of Twilight’s friends was faster. The cyan pegasus flew up and posed heroically, laughing with ease. In the presence of friends and leaders, her old bravado had returned.

“Took a quick flyby,” she blurted over Luna. The princess sighed, but said nothing as the pegasus went on. “I saw what it looked like in my dream. We’re looking for something big, black, and ugly, and there’s no sign of it around Canterlot.”

“Thank you… Miss.” Celestia said it coolly, neither remembering nor caring for the mare’s name. “But I’ll also thank you not to interrupt my sister.”

The pegasus squawked and backpedaled, apologizing as Celestia sent Luna a smile. 

Luna returned the gesture halfheartedly, annoyance creeping in around its edges. “It’s fine,” she grumbled. “If she offends, I can speak for myself.”

Celestia nodded. “At any rate, Luna, you were saying?”

“Everypony’s dream was different,” Luna said, wincing as she recalled the nightmares. “The beast can take different forms: some huge and destructive, others coy and cunning.”

“So it’s only sometimes big and obvious.” Shining Armor put a hoof on his chin, his captain’s mind coming to the fore. “Well it just announced its presence, so I don’t think it’s going for subtlety. Princess Luna, do we know what its weakness might be? Or maybe its origin?”

“No and no,” Luna sighed. “Many dreams showed its victims giving resistance, but nothing they did seemed to matter. Nor do I know its source. It came from some reality far removed from our own, but that doesn’t tell us a weakness.”

“Do you know what it wants?” Celestia ventured.

Luna gave a humorless smirk and nodded, her voice laden with contempt. “You heard the thing speak. As dire as it all was to hear, the monster was teasing us. Calling us ‘playthings.’ It’s like an evil child, torturing insects for no reason but twisted amusement.”

“A child,” Twilight mused, frowning at the conclusion. “And we’re the insects.”

“No we are not.”

Celestia’s voice. They looked to her, knowing the next part would be encouragement. Mere words. Yet they waited anxiously for those words, knowing they came from Princess Celestia. She smiled distantly at their attention, seeing the cyan pegasus come to earth, and even the noisy pink one hold her breath. Cadence, too – she and Celestia were equals now, but that didn’t extend beyond the title.

They looked at her, and they saw Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden. She wouldn’t fail.

“It is a child,” Celestia announced, reproving her student’s doubt. “And I am an adult.”

Twilight’s orange friend cracked one hoof into the other, smiling angrily. “Ah reckon that makes us’ns the mean-ass babysitters.”

Celestia laughed measuredly at the joke, drawing a loaded glance from Luna. But the others were pleased. Shining and Cadence glanced to each other and smiled, quietly sharing their reassurance at the good humor. The orange one grinned and slapped hooves with Twilight, all six friends chattering at once.

The rainbow-haired pegasus was the first to break the levity, taking back to the air with agitated beats of her wings. “So we’re gonna kick its butt, I get that. But how do we find it?”


“Easily.”


The voice was neither loud nor angry, yet they flinched at its word. Though smooth and civil as ever, though devoid of its bird-laughs and buzzing throb, it was no less fearsome. Like the sound itself held a taste of the thing’s evil.

The ponies turned to the entrance and saw it, both less and more frightening than their visions. Here was no great mass of tendrils. Nor could it be a smooth deceiver, for they knew its danger. Here was merely the queer card player, with its dapper white clothes and black faceless head. It held a white cane, tapping the floor in slow beat with its steps.

They could feel it as well as see it. Like some sixth sense was screaming a warning, setting their primal fears on edge. Teeth bit lips and hooves pawed the ground as each pony fought down an instinctive panic. 

It was more than fear of the battle to come, far more than the nightmares or the sight of the thing. Something very real scratched at their courage, and that thing was Evil. The purest, blackest evil, utter anathema to all they lived for. They felt its agelessness, its timelessness so great as to make even Celestia seem a newborn.

The words it spoke earlier echoed through their minds. Reason? There was none. How small they were, before the yawning infinity that was Evil! All their works and loves, glories and Harmony, all these things were a pinprick before the roiling blackness. The ponies’ two thousand years of history would be obliterated without a backwards glance, and everything they built and knew would be lost forever.

Such was the horrid screaming of their instincts as the thing drew closer with each tap of the cane. Their hearts raced and hooves shook as the panic rose to a fever pitch. The urge to flee became almost unbearable. To flee and leave the others to die, forsaking love and friendship for the useless, short-lived inventions they were.


“Click.”


A new sound came, interrupting the cane’s rhythmic stride. Celestia had taken a step down from her throne, setting a gold-shod hoof to the tiled floor. Then another step. And more, carrying her to stand before the others. Even Luna couldn’t bring herself to follow, shaken by the fearful whirlwind thrust upon her.

It did not show on Celestia’s face, but she felt it as sharply as any of them. The horrific certainty emanating from the beast was compounding with her bedroom fears – of not being up to the task, of being too worn and weak to meet the threat. That her perfection was an illusion, that “Princess Celestia” was nothing more than the short-lived words of a moribund race.

Yet the fear gripped her more weakly than the others. If the frightful instinct was a whirlwind, her mind was a gnarled oak: thick and unbending, even as it faced the apocalypse.

The world may end. That was true, but there were so many truths in her joyless reign that this one could not even excite her. She would manage it as well as she could, just like the countless others. Pay debts quickly. Judge with a mind towards harmony above legalese. Laugh at ponies’ jokes so they feel happy.

They would battle, her and the fiend. She would either win, or she would not. Only one would become truth, and Celestia feared nothing for the outcome. 

She smiled thinly upon realizing this, wondering if she finally found her elusive perfection. To be so detached from it all… isn’t that the way the statue was? A plaster ideal, rather than a mare of lusts and fears? 

Maybe this was a great day. Maybe she was finally perfect, just as she always should have been.

“What do we call you?” she asked the creature, both impatient to fight and reluctant to begin. It was electric, this feeling of ascendancy, and she savored it. Yes, Celestia was becoming perfect. She was leaving her childish, stupid feelings behind. 

She almost laughed at her victory. This thing was terror incarnate, yet she was not afraid! What else was possibly there to fear? She had conquered it! She had conquered Sombra and Nightmare Moon, Rooke and her own damn reflection. None of them could possibly unnerve her again, not after she faced such a beast without flinching!

It stopped walking, turning its eyeless sight to her.

“I don’t have a ‘what.’” It chuckled in a pony’s voice. “‘Absalom’ is what the last ones called me. I like it, for the word means nothing else. But you may call me as you will.”

“Very well.” Celestia closed her eyes and nodded in brief acknowledgement. This was it. What would come, would come.

Her eyes opened, and even those behind her saw the shock brightness emerge. “I’ll call you, ‘Dust.’”

Whiteness and heat surrounded her, and Celestia struck. Blazing magic lanced from her horn, hitting the fiend in its head. The white derby turned to ash and it staggered backwards.

The light faded and Absalom stood, its fine suit in tatters. Its head tilted unnaturally to the right, and a hole appeared where its eyes should be. Like tearing rubber, the opening ripped smoothly from one end of the face to the other.

Celestia thought it was injured until she saw the teeth. The tear twisted upwards in a wide smile that stretched the width of the head, showing rows of jagged fangs. Another mouth formed at its chin, and more opened across the body, ripping the suit as easily as the skin.

Celestia made to fire again, but her younger sister moved first. Anxious both to prove herself and smite the foe, Luna’s attack forsook precision for power. Like a curving blade, her blue, star-flecked magic swept upwards before slamming down into the creature. 

Absalom disappeared in the wave. Its arm ripped off and flew to the side, still clutching the white cane. When the attack ended, nothing else of the gangly form could be seen.

Of the ten ponies – four alicorns, a lover, and five very close friends – not one of them were so foolish as to think the fight over. The instinctive dread still gripped their hearts. And on the blasted tiles, Absalom’s shadow remained. Its long fingers reached up to where the hat still rested in blackened image.

It tipped the hat and grinned, white teeth shimmering from the shadow. The whole form then grew like spreading ink, widening and deepening and losing all consistency. There was no more hat, cane or fingers. Just a white-fanged mouth among the blackness. Then a dozen mouths, then a hundred.

Like a horrid geyser, it erupted. Floor tiles, then the ceiling exploded as a slimy, ropey black tendril sprouted in the blink of an eye. It soared up through the palace roof, a thousand mouths unleashing a cawing laughter as they writhed to the clouds.

Below, there was panic. Thousands of ponies, already shaken by nightmares and voices, looked up to see the evil thing rise from Canterlot Castle. They stared in horror, wondering if the palace's demise heralded their own.

Such thoughts were beyond the ten ponies. Indeed, two of them would fast contribute to the destruction. Shining and Cadence were the first to react, touching their horns in instinctive unity. Cadence’s love poured into Shining’s magic, and in an instant a pink shield interposed itself below the falling rubble. It expanded in the second instant, blowing over the neighboring walls and ceilings. Shining knew they would need room to maneuver, and their shared power made it so.

With two sweeps of their wings, Celestia and Luna took to the air. Twilight braced on the ground with her friends, her magic clicking the Elements of Harmony to their necks. The six took their traditional formation – a half-circle behind Twilight – and smiled with shared confidence. Already, faint threads of many colors were winding between them as the Elements began their magic.

The formation scattered as Absalom’s first claws emerged. One on each side of the tendril, raking bony fingers to the ground they were standing on. Celestia’s throne disintegrated as tree-sized claws slashed in vain at their retreating prey.

The second hand came down over the two earth ponies, but the Crystal royals were ready. A pink bubble of energy interposed itself, drawing a grunt of exertion from the pair as they deflected the blow. The shield dented and cracked, but held firm.

Absalom’s hand closed around the bubble, puncturing inwards with its five black claws. But the would-be victims had already scampered out of the way. Shining and Cadence let the shield crumble and threw their efforts at the other claw, slashing for Luna.

For a second, it looked like they might be too late. But they weren’t – the claw impaled their shield instead of the princess, and Luna used the moment to brace herself. At her shouted command, they dismissed the barrier and she struck back with all her might. A chaotic mesh of black energy and blue lightning shot from her horn, striking the massive hand on the palm. It reeled back, smoking.

The night princess leaned back and flapped her wings, letting them open the distance between her and the monster. It was still growing – taller and taller still, carrying the two claws up with it until they reached above the castle. They were the arms of the beast, she realized, as they reared back to strike again.

Luna chanced a glance upwards. Celestia was an orange glow above her, dodging and dueling with the tip of the tendril. She was trying to stab her horn to it and deal a decisive blow, with no magic lost from the distance. The tendril slapped back and forth to ward her away, and so the two maneuvered.

“Just shoot it, Tia!” Luna shouted the words, but she doubted they were heard. A plan was in her mind for the alicorns to attack relentlessly, overwhelming the creature and counting on their innate regeneration to see them through. But they needed to coordinate, and–

The swinging claws drew her attention, interrupting the thought. The first was a very near miss – the fingers and arm seemed to stretch with the blow, turning her comfortable dodge into a desperate lunge for safety.

She barely even saw the next swipe, as it missed by full meters. Celestia had tackled her from above, shoving them both below the swing.

“Tia!” Luna half-screamed in frustration. She had planned to block and counter, then lunge for the center mass.

Instead, Tia was being herself. “Tia, don’t baby me!”

Violence ended the conversation. Absalom’s tendril came down in a swinging arc, forcing them to dive further to avoid it. It swung again, driving them lower still and annihilating the North Tower in the back-swing.

Now on level with the ruined ceiling, the pair was blinded by a sudden contrail of every color. Twilight’s friends had rallied, and unleashed the Elements of Harmony.

Perhaps they had traded encouraging words beforehand, about love conquering all and such. But the outcome was bleak. Ponies blinked away the spots in their eyes to see Absalom still there, not even discomfited by the strike. It was instead the six young mares who were staggered, some of them falling down in their daze.

Twilight’s eyes were still huge and dark, as if some part of Harmony’s magic remained inside. She stared upwards at the towering monster, mouth working dumbly.

“That’s it,” the young princess squeaked, trembling in fresh horror. “Luna, Discord… they had some good in them. Some Harmony that the Elements could use. But this thing doesn’t. It doesn’t. It… it just laughed at us.”

“Focus, Twilight!” Luna roared, willing her voice to echo with regal strength. Twilight startled and blinked, snapping out of her shock.

Rainbow shook her head wildly, keeping her eyes on the monster. “But we’re useless without–”

The lovers’ shield appeared above them, blocking a fresh slam of the tendril. Only Cadence had seen it coming. But Shining felt the danger through her, and the pair acted.

“No you’re not,” Cadence said with the stern tenderness of a mother. “Channel the Harmony through Twilight. Let it feel your hope, your feelings for each other. Let it give you strength, rather than be shot off as a weapon.”

“And Twiley’s an alicorn,” Shining added in his forthright manner. “She might not have as much experience, but she’s got to be as powerful as any of them.”

His logic was fallible, but Cadence ran with it. She brushed her nose against Twilight’s ear, giving her former charge a quick nuzzle. “Twilight, fight hard. All of you, keep faith in her. The Elements will do the rest.” 

The older alicorns landed as she spoke, and Luna nodded at the words. 

But Celestia’s eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t know that,” she said reprovingly. Celestia stood tall, with an imperial tint in her voice that brooked no dissent. Twilight’s friends even bowed by instinct, though were jolted upright as another claw slammed against the lovers’ shield.

Twilight gave a weak smile, encouraged by her mentor’s control. “What’s the plan, Princess?”

Celestia needed no second bidding. “Twilight, take your friends and fall back. Same to you two.” She nodded towards Shining Armor and Cadence. “Luna, cover them. I’ll handle this.”

The others’ nods caught halfway down as Luna interjected. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Celestia was as surprised as any of them at the words, and matched eyes with Luna. Her own was a familiar expression – veiled annoyance at the younger sister’s antics. Luna’s face was far more open with its frustration.

While Celestia hesitated, Luna pressed the issue. “We need to work together.”

“Do we?” Celestia asked icily, then winced. That sounded impatient. Not perfect.

“Yes!” Luna shouted, anger flaring. She hated this. They should be planning and launching their next move, not debating the fool point while the others looked on like frightened children.

No choice. “Tia, there’s no need for you to go alone.”

“I’ve always been alone,” Celestia shot back.

“No you haven’t.”

Celestia huffed through her nose, glancing away. They both knew Luna was right. The two had shared much in their youth. Good times, bad times, and a love that was no longer requited.

Luna was right. But those times had passed long ago. Celestia sniffed and arched her nose, ending the debate. “I’m trying to protect you all. Now follow my orders.”

“You don’t order me!” Luna stood her ground, despairing at the fresh rift between them.

“Then support me at long range, but stay safe.” Celestia’s words were acid, offering poor compromise as she returned to the sky. Luna’s wings flared, ready to follow after.

A glance to the side arrested her flight. The others were milling uselessly, exchanging confused and worried looks. Only Cadence still watched the battle, planning the placement of her next shield.

“I mean, she’s right.” Rainbow gave a depressed sigh. “Seriously, what was our Plan B? Think good thoughts and hope something happens?”

“It was the best I could think of.” Cadence turned her head to them, matching the sigh. “I thought the Elements might be able to strengthen you somehow. It’s dumb, I know. We’ve never seen them work that way.“

“No, no, the theory’s sound.” Twilight patted Cadence on the shoulder, then used the hoof to pull her further from the tendril’s base. “But come on, let’s get out of–”

A gagged cry came from above. Heads shot up and Cadence gasped, realizing her distraction had been costly. Celestia had dueled with her horn again, but found herself matched against both claws and the slapping tendril. Two were dodged, but a sharpened thumb had caught her on the knee.

A small object fell to the ground. A white foreleg, that shattered wetly as it met the gilded tiles.

Celestia followed a moment later, winging earthwards in desperate dodge. She crashed in a heap before her student, sending dust and crumpled plaster up around her.

Twilight gagged, bile rising to her throat at the awful sight. Celestia’s right front leg was now a cracked and jagged piece of bone, sticking out from its cushion of muscle and fat. Shredded pieces fell to the ground as she twitched, letting the blood squirt from her wound with each beat of the heart.

A pathetic mewl came from Twilight’s throat. She had seen Celestia defeated, but never like this. Her loving, kindly mentor, so… maimed. 

Twilight’s head swayed. Her vision blurred, and she welcomed the escape.

A stern voice cut through the horror, sounding only terse and annoyed. “I will be fine, Twilight. I am not so weak.”

Twilight blinked and looked again. Already, the bleeding had stopped. The jagged bone was now rounded, and perhaps an inch of the limb had grown back. With only a wince and a groan, Celestia rose to stand on her remaining legs.

Intellectually, Twilight knew she likely had the same power. But she beamed at her teacher, her faith restored. Princess Celestia had it under control, as always.

“Tia…” Luna said worriedly. She saw the worshiping look in Twilight’s eyes and hoped to death Celestia didn’t.

Celestia didn’t notice, and she didn’t hear. Her attention was on the foe. 

So massive. The tendril’s growing had slowed, but hadn’t stopped. Maybe it never would.

For one second, Celestia’s courage departed in a violent shudder. She wasn’t ageless, like this thing was. She was just old. Her wings cramped from exertion. The wound was grinding in its pain. Even her horn throbbed from the channeled power. Magic was a muscle, just like those wings, and she well-knew that hers was a withered remnant. Long years of peace had doused her fiery strength to a candle of its former glory.

Yet even that candle could burn the world.

The shudder ended. She was Princess Celestia again. Old, yes, but there was strength in that weathered age. Youthful adrenaline had been replaced by a proud willingness to suffer and strike. She ignored the pain. She would ignore all the pain to come.

Celestia caught the look Twilight was giving her, and nodded. Yes. I’ll protect you. 

I am Princess Celestia. And that still counts for something.

“All of you, retreat.” A distracted order, and she was aloft.

This time, Luna waited a fast second before speaking. Long enough for Celestia to pass out of earshot.

“Cadence, Shining. Cover Tia. I’m going to hit it low.”

Eight heads snapped towards her, and Shining offered a dull protest. “But she said–”

“Damn it, Prince,” Luna snarled, shaking her head wildly. They had no time for this. “You all can think for yourselves! She needs us, whether she admits it or not.”

“But the Elements–” Rainbow began.

“Make it work!” Luna’s frustrated roar marked her return to the air. No time. She’d just have to hope they followed her lead.









The sprouting had ended. Absalom’s legs rose from the ground – clawed and bent sharply like a grasshopper’s. It stood tall above the palace, silhouetted by the rising sun. Huge and horrible. A monster of darkest nightmares, a monster to end the world.

Before it, invisible within her white shield, Celestia flew.

She was tired. She was afraid. She was so afraid, and she hated it.

She clung hard to that hate, willing it upwards to mask her fear. She called it forth in searing orange lances at her foe. Scorching the hands that grasped for her, and the tendril-head that whipped.

Princess Celestia. Perfect, shining, golden. 

It was a lie. She was weak, and she was fearful. She was a madmare who talked with the dead. She would never be perfect, never be free of them. A thousand years from now, Sombra would still haunt her. With Rooke, Nightmare Moon, and all the rest waiting in the wings.

To an observer, to Twilight’s worshipful eyes, she was at the apex of her glory. Swift and agile, deftly avoiding every blow and returning with her own. She scorched and burned, blasting away chunks of the oily flesh with its laughing mouths. They giggled, they taunted, and the only response was her grim silence and fiery magic. It was evil, mighty, but she was Celestia!

…She was tired.

A massive hand struck her, but Celestia curled inwards, dexterously avoiding the seeking claws. Mouths within the palm opened themselves to bite, but in her curl Celestia had led with the sun-charged horn. She exploded out the other side of the hand, dealing Absalom its first telling wound of the battle. There was too little left of the palm to support its claws. The remaining flesh ripped apart and the digits tumbled, crashing to the city below. A million mouths screamed in unison as the creature jerked what was left of its hand backwards.

Its blood washed over Celestia, and for a second all thought was driven from her mind. It was black and oily, splattering across her flesh and drawing smoke where it touched. 

Her mouth shot open in a sudden gag, hatefully letting the black blood hit her tongue and lips. It burned. And it froze. And every other awful sensation she could imagine was set on fire. Sting, pierce, itch, ache, cramp, rend, stab, stab, stab all over. The fluid clung, seeping to her scalp and eyes, drooling to her privates and hooves. It even curled up into her wound, entering her blood through the still-open stump.

Her great will collapsed, and Celestia added her own to the screaming mouths. Stab, stab, stab all over…

“Tia!”

That voice. She was in so much pain that she couldn’t even see, yet she knew the voice.

“Luna, get back!” Celestia accelerated, winging away some of the blood. It helped. She hurt, but she could focus. She could push it to the back of her mind.

Go away! I can handle this.

She was too busy to say it. She dodged and sped still faster. Too late did her blurry vision warn her of the descending tendril.

It never connected.  A pink shield flared to life above her, blocking the strike.

Cadence, Shining, you too? Go away!

Don’t protect me. It cannot kill me.

I am Celestia.

Tears smoked from her eyes. She spun up and around the creature, sending another sun-bolt to the tip of its tendril.

You shouldn’t have to do this. It should be me.

A sharp cry sounded as the stump-claw battered Luna. Some of its blood spattered to the blue-feathered wings, sending her careening backwards in sudden agony.

I’m sorry. If I was perfect, you wouldn’t be in pain. But I’ll never be perfect. I’ll keep making idiot mistakes. I’ll keep having these idiot feelings.

I tried so hard to be perfect. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?

When Cadence blocked the whipping head a second time, it changed. Absalom’s one tendril split into a dozen with an awful tear. It seemed more self-mutilation than metamorphosis – bulbous flesh could be seen beneath, and its awful blood rained down on the ponies below. Cadence screamed in pain at the oily splash, and the dozen tendrils lunged for her.

Purple magic flared, and she vanished just before they connected.

Even you, Twilight?

No. Run, all of you. Else you’ll die.

Let me take this. All the pain. I can take it.

I am Celestia. I won’t die. Tartarus rejected me.

Forsaking all subtlety and maneuver, Celestia descended towards the creature’s center like a comet. The stump-hand slapped her away, and all she did was scorch its wrist.

One of the tendrils had enwrapped Luna, and was biting at her with a dozen mouths. But the night princess shook free, using the close-quarters to stab her horn and unleash a spell within its body. The tendril exploded, and Luna winged away.

Damn it Luna, you’ll die! You need to leave this to me. 

I’ll never die. The judge said it, I don’t get to die.

Celestia was tired. Every flap of the wings brought a fresh hell. She could feel the black oil climb through her blood from the open wound. It reached her heart, and set it afire. 

She didn’t scream. The ponies mustn’t hear her scream.

She ascended above the creature, preparing to strike as a meteor once more. It was all she could think to do. Attack with every ounce of strength, leaving nothing for maneuver or defense.

Sped by her magic, the white comet once more made its unsubtle assault. This time the creature was distracted, its claw scratching a purple shield that appeared before Cadence.

Celestia connected at the middle of Absalom’s height. Such was her force that a white shockwave shot out from the impact, knocking the airborne ponies backwards. The monster staggered, bending its massive frame to almost a right angle as it absorbed the blow. 

Rancid flesh and gibbering mouths exploded at her aura’s touch. Even its blood boiled to nothing before hitting Celestia, caught by the full force of her magic.

The creature was so tall, it was easy to forget it was thick as well. Celestia stabbed deep within it in her charge, using herself as a fiery lance. The daylight vanished behind her, and all she saw was the flame and the foe.

Even here, there were mouths. On every new patch of flesh that became exposed, they laughed and snapped at her.

No matter. She was too fast, and her aura too hot, for them to be a danger.

But she was slowing. The beast had mystic strength of its own, and the going grew harder and harder. The black blood was still burning within her chest. With every flinch, with every breathy gasp of pain, she could feel her aura lessen.

All the same, she had strength – great strength – as she came to Absalom’s heart.

There was no chamber for it. Another layer of fat and mouths burned away, and there laid the beating mound. The black vessels were as serpentine coils, twisting around each other and thrumming with a steady pace.

Celestia could only see a fragment of it, at the end of her scorched tunnel. But she knew what it was. And she knew that what came next would hurt, though the thought didn’t slow her. The battered, weakened remnant of her aura focused to the size of a needle and shot to the heart.

With the defense gone, more pain arrived. The blood dripped down onto her. The mouths puckered forth from their fleshy mounts, biting with rapier teeth into her wings and legs.

Her brilliant white spark struck the heart, and their magic touched. Celestia knew an instant of strange awareness, seeing Absalom stand before her as the tall biped once more.

There was no time for any exchange of ideas. No time for taunts or shouts of defiance. All that happened in that instant was another tearing of its rubbery face, creating a mouth that grinned.

The instant ended. A deep wound was blown in the heart, and its blood shot out like a fire hose. The awful tide engulfed Celestia, sending her careening back until she slammed into flesh.

The tunnel had closed behind her. Absalom’s body was already knitting back together. The rising pressure kept her pinned to the edge, helpless against the chewing mouths.

The pain stopped. Maybe the wicked blood had burned out her senses. It washed her lungs through the open mouth, and seeped in through the bites in her flesh. She could only distantly feel an ear rip off, and holes be chewed in her wings and belly.

Yet outweighing these dull sensations was the heartbeat. Not hers, but Absalom’s, echoing rhythmically through the submerged, sealed cavern.

She failed. It was a dazed and sleepy thought. Like she was dreaming it all.

The cavern abruptly contracted, forcing her body into motion. Dimly, Celestia wondered at it before realizing she was moving away from the heart. Absalom’s flesh was squeezing her out like a splinter.

I can’t defeat it.

Her thoughts were clear, but numb. She had no emotion to give them. They were just words. Just facts.

I’m going to die. Right now, I’m dying. Princess Celestia is about to die.

Strange, but she didn’t even feel her usual pains. No headache, no wing cramps. Even the evil blood no longer hurt her.

This is dying? It’s kind of–

She saw the blue sky. And then she saw the ruined castle, a mile below. 

With a wet squelch, the wound closed, shoving her out to the air.

Her limp body made no move to correct the fall. She faintly heard a voice scream, and another bark a command. Twilight’s yellow friend and her blue one flew beneath Celestia, each with hooves outstretched to catch her.

They didn’t know about Absalom’s blood. They touched her soaked body and recoiled, limbs blazing with the awful pain. Celesta fell past them, tumbling as she went.

She saw them give chase. Even knowing the blood’s pain, they dove for her.

They were good ponies. She gave them a placid smile.

Then they vanished. Celestia numbly felt the space shift beneath her, and realized she had been teleported. Twilight’s purple aura shimmered, easing Celestia the last few feet to the ground.

“Tia!” Luna’s voice came out like breaking glass. She landed next to Celestia, eyes wide and wet. Desperate grief was written on her face.

For me? 

No need, Luna. I feel good.

Celestia rose from the ground. Ponies gasped – not in relief, but horror. They saw what Celestia didn’t. The black blood that flooded her was sloughing off, and only more of it lay beneath. As if it had already melted everything inside. Her white coat was sliding down like a rotten rag, with only bone and black underneath.

Yet she rose, not even glancing to her vanishing flesh.

Tia turned a slow head to her sister. And she smiled – a simple smile, straight from the heart. 

A second passed and there was no smile. Just a leering skeleton, that stood for another instant before crumbling to the ground. The bones clacked wetly in the pooling black, followed by Celestia’s crown and necklace.

Twilight screamed. Her face contorted in wild grief, her faith crushed in its zenith. She tried to leap to Celestia’s bones, but Rainbow shouted a warning and Applejack held her back. The blood would burn her as surely as her mentor.

Luna only saw that in the corner of her eye. She didn’t see where Shining and Cadence went, and she didn’t care to look.

It was a strange fury that gripped her heart, that sent her to headlong charge against Absalom. Her mind turned to how much she had wanted this battle. Where she was supposed to impress Tia, and the two would be sisters again. Her rage was as much for herself as the fiend.

Tia… she was mad at Tia as well. Luna had tried so hard to make her smile, and this brought it out? Tia finally smiled for this?

Luna pitied her. And she hated her. Hated that Tia had felt like that. Hated that it might end today. That their parting was final, and all Luna’s hopes of reclaiming their old love were in vain.

“Come back, Tia.” Luna whispered the words. She tried to keep her anger hot, tried to channel it into her strike. But the blue lightning only scorched Absalom’s hide, and its many mouths grinned.









It was dark here. Wherever “here” was.

Celestia stood, though she didn’t remember getting up. Nor did she know what she was standing on, for there seemed nothing else here but her. Just darkness, without even a floor beneath.

She took a step forward. No ground, but at least she could walk. 

Her head lolled to one side as she took a second step. It felt heavy. Too heavy to keep upright.

Heavy… tired…

Sleep claimed her for an instant, and she jerked her head back up. Celestia was aware. She remembered, though the memories were confused and uncertain. They were fighting something large, her and Luna. And Twilight was there, as were her brother and Cadence. And Twilight’s friends.

Something large, something evil… a yawn interrupted her thoughts. Celestia couldn’t remember the details. Was it large like a tree, or a mountain? It was probably more the latter, since it took her leg with just one claw.

The thought made her glance down. All four hooves were there. For whatever it was worth, she was whole.

…No she wasn’t. She remembered the acidic blood. It devoured her until nothing remained.

Nothing but a skeleton. She was dead.

Princess Celestia had died.

She lifted her head, fighting the drowsy weight around her neck. She tried to growl in defiance, but it came out a bleary garble. It was all so muddled, but Celestia knew she had to go back. Because…

Because…

The dead princess shook her head. There were reasons. She knew there were reasons.

She scrunched her eyes closed, hissing through her teeth. Trying to remember. There was a flag, and a city on a mountain. They were hers, whatever they were called. Was that why? Did they call her back?

Celestia stumbled a third step, wobbling and groaning. No, neither of them beckoned her. The flag and the city… she remembered they hurt. The candle smoke stung her eyes as she toiled into the night. Sore eyes, and for some reason she remembered sore wings. And a sore back, from always sitting upright in the throne.

But there was more than the city, wasn’t there? Celestia breathed out through pursed lips, looking upwards as she wondered.

Faces. She could remember faces. Ponies.

Too many to count. Too many to care for. Old faces, young faces, and young-turned-old faces. 

There was a deep-blue mare. An alicorn, and she felt familiar. Luna. But it was a face and a name, with only the barest threads of memory connecting them. Celestia didn’t recall anything else. Maybe she wasn’t even right.

She shivered. It frightened her, all this forgetting. She knew she had to go back. But why?

Celestia blinked, a new thought emerging. Maybe there was no “why.”

Why? And why should I? To her befuddled mind, it was a valid question. It was nice here. The air was warm like a quilt blanket, soothing away her aches. She knew she’d forgotten so much already, but that felt good! Why remember? She could vaguely recall how bad it was. How sick and sore and tired she was.

Maybe she forgot the reason. Maybe there wasn’t one. Celestia didn’t care. As sleepy as she was, she felt so light. She felt relieved, and only grew more so as the memories faded. They were slipping away like water between her hooves, and she stopped trying to keep them in.

Twilight Sparkle? Red pony, blue pony, she didn’t know any more.

Luna? Was that a pony or a city?

Celestia?

She shoved the name away, even tried to convince herself that it was another. Of course she wasn’t Celestia. Celestia was perfect, immortal.

Celestia…

The word itself faded. She threw her head back and laughed. Three short “Ha’s,” with the last one trailing off. 

She grinned. She had won. She couldn’t remember what she won, but it made her happy.

After the laughs, she yawned and staggered a step backwards. She was sleepy. And why not sleep? If she was needed, if she had a reason to return, that was too bad. She was dead, and could do nothing more.

“You’re lying.” The voice whispered once in the dark, and Celestia didn’t recognize it as her own. She ignored it. She didn’t know what she was lying about, and in another moment she forgot it ever spoke.

Smiling, she curled her legs and settled herself. There was no floor, but a strange weightlessness let her lie down. The warm air embraced her, soothing out the last of the pains and thoughts.

Celestia chuckled once more, turned to her side, and faded to peaceful slumber.
> Chapter 12: Here I Stand
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Once more, I must ride with my knights.
To defend what was, and the dream of what might be.”

-King Arthur, in Excalibur









A glittering, beautiful city on a mountain. But the city was falling, its great towers shattering to ruin. Ponies across the land looked up and despaired, seeing its place taken by the whip-headed Doom. Those who saw it gibbered, fled and prayed. Some even rallied to fight back, but they mattered not. The chance for salvation had passed. The massive fiend raised one high, grasshopper-like leg and began striding down from the mountain to the defenseless world below.



Celestia – not that she remembered the name – barely opened her eyes. A grim dream, but it troubled her little. The city meant nothing. Maybe it did once, but not anymore.

She did not even know why the dream roused her, or how long she had been sleeping. It couldn’t have been long. If anything, she was even sleepier than before. Her cloudy, befuddled mind felt only annoyance at the interruption.

Seeing no reason to keep them open, Celestia closed her eyes. Within a second, she slept once more.









A desperate battle among a city’s gilded spires. Three alicorns flittered around the great fiend, pressing their exhausted magic against its ropey flesh. They were losing, and as they shared looks they could see it in each other’s eyes.

The purple one was the first to fall. One of the beast’s massive tendrils smashed her from the sky, leaving her with broken wings and ribs. She cried feebly on the ground, unthinking and unknowing as two friends stood above her. An orange earth pony and a yellow pegasus, without an ounce of magic between them. Nothing guarded the three but luck, and whatever Grace the world had left.

It had none. They flinched, but did not flee as the same tendril snapped towards them.



This time Celestia awoke with a gasp, bringing her long neck up to look around. A name was half-formed on her lips. Twi… Twi-something.

Immediately, her head drooped again. With the initial shock passed, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. 

But even with the lids shut and her head lolling, she wondered. She couldn’t remember. But at the same time, she could. It was like trying to dredge a childhood memory: so hard to recall, yet so certainly a part of her. She knew that she knew.

Celestia clenched her teeth, trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain. The names, the reasons… they were in there somewhere.

No good. She was too tired. When sleep came again to her mind, she let it in.









The blue princess was fighting. Fighting so very hard, with the speed of wings and strength of magic. Veering around the seeking black tendrils, lashing out with bolts of blue lighting.

A dozen tendrils chased her, and with angelic grace she evaded each one. Dodging and tumbling through the air, always just the barest step ahead of danger. She was sweating, panting, yet striking back with every chance.

She fought alone against the fiend, and its every act was bent on slaying her. She dodged a hundred blows, yet there was always another on the last one’s heels. Her starry magic scored deep wounds into the beast’s rubbery hide, but it gave no sign of discomfort. 

The mare’s tongue flapped from the side of her mouth. Her endurance was ending. She turned to disengage, and gasped; more tendrils had swung wide, blocking her retreat.  Blue wings frantically tried to carry her past, but she had grown too slow. One of the smaller tendrils caught her back hoof, and two more wrapped around her chest.

They squeezed. Bones broke. The mare cried out – a garbled, deathly scream cut short.



“Luna!” Celestia’s head rose once more. This time she held it upwards, gazing out as though she could still see the dream.

Luna. Sister. She remembered that much.

They need me. She needs me. The thoughts were nearly lost in her bleary mind. Celestia could not even say who “they” were. Only that she was needed.

They always needed her. The ponies. Yes, they were the “they.” She was important to them, and to Luna, too.

Celestia’s head tilted downwards. Her mouth hung open and her eyes blinked slowly. Sleepier than ever, she felt her consciousness begin to fade even with her head still upright.

Her mind began closing. Her head sank further, and her thoughts became scattered, wispy things.

But her forehoof moved. Leaden though it felt, it slowly righted itself on the ground.

She was needed. She couldn’t sleep, she was needed.

The leg stretched, and its neighbor followed suit. Like she was doing a slow push-up. She held up her head and breathed sharply, trying to rouse her addled mind. Instead, the warm air reminded her. How nice it was, just to lie down and sleep…

No, she had to go back. She was Celestia. She remembered now. The thoughts were drowsy and distant, but she remembered it all.

They need her. They need her now, before those dreams become truth. Her back legs pushed, raising her body to the air. She wobbled like an infant, and her neck swayed as she forced it aloft.

She shook her head, hard as she could. The sleepiness weighed upon her, but she was awake. She righted her stance and stood tall, Princess Celestia once more. 

Around her, the darkness seemed less absolute than before. Like it was painted black, rather than true nothingness.

Celestia’s mane flowed limply in a dozen strands. One drifted across her vision, and her eyes followed it. Rather than her normal colors, these strands held faded greens and pinks, almost lost to the greyness eating them. They hung lifelessly, each hair the thin, wiry mess of an old mare.

She gave a tiny, tired smile to the errant strand and brushed it from her face.

“Alright,” she said, keeping the smile raised. “It’s time to go back.”

The first step was hard. As she took it, a chill wind cut through the comforting warmth. A familiar ache gripped her wings, and she knew the rest would be no easier.

No help for it. Celestia took the second step. The air grew even colder, causing her to flinch back. Candle-smoke aches pressed in on her eyes, and a dull throb returned to the head. A shiver ran the breadth of her body, drawing a husky growl from her lips. 

Yet the ground under her hooves remained warm. Pleasantly so, and she knew that if she lay down it would cover her like a blanket again.

It wouldn’t be giving up. Just a short rest.

Just for a moment. 

A little nap.

No. A third step. Then a forth. Her head was arched high, as Celestia-like as she could be. Her pace became steady as she grew used to the cold. The little aches in her wings and head worsened, but they were merely the return of old friends. She would endure.

She must have said so aloud, for a question came out from the darkness. “But why?”

Sombra’s voice. Celestia wasn’t even surprised.

“Because they need me.” Her words were soft. Celestia stopped, but her body remained facing away. Only her head turned to him as he stepped forward, perfectly visible despite the surrounding gloom.

“So?” he grumbled. Sombra slapped his hoof upwards, just as he always did when irate.

“So I’m going back,” Celestia said. Her old, worn smile was back in its place. “I’m needed.”

Sombra’s hoof swept back and forth, his voice carrying a frustrated growl. “Is that all? Celestia, why? You were happy!”

Celestia sniffed. “I’ll be happy when I’ve defeated the–”

“Spare me!”

The frustration on Sombra’s face turned to rage in an instant. The outburst stopped her, and he pressed his opening. “You’re a ‘good princess,’ yes, I get it. You’ve worn it on your fetlock for ten hundred years.”

“Ten hundred years of peace,” Celestia parried, controlling her voice to its serene norm.

“And that was good!” Sombra’s voice changed. He was raising his hoof again, but a pleading tinge had entered his words. “Great, even! You’ve done a thing never done on this planet. Maybe not ever! That’s enough, that’s good enough. They’ll have to find their own way. You can’t protect them forever.”

…Not forever?

No. Of course I can.

Celestia sighed and looked away. She stepped past without a word, and he made no move to follow.

After a few more paces, she turned her head back. Sombra was still there, eyes downcast. His frown twitched and he kicked the ground, looking for all the world like a rejected suitor.

The thought brought an old question to her mind, and she smiled weakly. “Sombra?”

He looked up, his face returning to its old sternness. “Hm?”

Celestia swallowed and went on, her dark eyes never drifting from his. “I want to know. When you… when you changed. When you became that red-horned monster and did so many terrible things. I want to know if that was really you. If…”

She sniffed wetly, though her glassy eyes remained fixed. “If the Sombra I loved had really betrayed me. Or if he loved me still, until that monster devoured him.”

Sombra grimaced. He turned his head from her, raising his nose. “Why ask me? You don’t even know what I really am. At best, I’m a dead ghost. At worst, a delusion. Either way, my words can hardly be taken as fact.”

“All the same, I would hear you tell me.” Celestia said it softly, meekly, through a tiny smile.

Sombra was silent for a moment. He glanced to and from her before settling his gaze away. His mouth worked, and he stuttered a few times before getting it out. “I…”

A final pause, then he looked back to her. His eyes were glossy, his lips turned to a frown far softer than their norm.

“I tried to become an alicorn.” He muttered, mouth twisting up in a wry smile. “To be your equal. Using demon magic. It didn’t go as planned, obviously.”

His voice grew stronger as he continued, his eyes looking back with wet-eyed clarity. “But yes, I loved you. I loved you so much. When the dark thing ripped me from my body and cast me aside, I had seconds to live. I spent them thinking of our first dance.”

Celestia’s gaze finally broke. She swept her head away, flinging tears to the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well don’t pity me!” A sharp, uncharacteristic laugh belted from Sombra’s throat. He was smiling through his own tears, walking backwards away from her.

“You especially, don’t pity me,” he finished softly, disappearing into the dark. “I had what I longed for, and threw it away. We are the same.”

And then he was gone.









Celestia walked on. She wasn’t sleepy anymore, but a thousand little nits remained. Her wings ached. Her head hurt. Her back swayed like an old nag’s, pinching her spine whenever she tried to keep it straight.

But the pace sped. These were familiar pains, much as they weighed her down. Worse was the chill in her limbs. Worse than that was a growing weight in her head, seeming to pull it downwards. She was awake, but her limbs were so tired, and the ground warm on her hooves…

I could lie down. Just a short rest.

Celestia shook her head. No rest. She was needed. No matter what Sombra said. He talked of her being happy here. What nonsense! How could she be happy with Equestria under threat?

The space around her was grey now. Still, Celestia only saw the black figure as it drew close.

Nightmare Moon approached her head-on. It carried an indignant snarl on its lips, and shouted its challenge without ceremony. “Come on, Tia.” 

It walked the last few paces and reached a hoof out to her. Celestia flinched, but there was no violence in the touch. Just a push on the shoulder.

“Look at you.” It went on, sounding more like an angry sister than a monster. Its brow was upturned as if in worry, and that loud, regal voice was devoid of humor. “You look awful, you feel awful, and you’re jumping back into it. For what?”

“The ponies,” Celestia said, smiling as best as she could.

“Ah, yes,” Nightmare Moon growled, its tone turning bitter. “The precious little ponies who never did you any favors.”

“They need me,” Celestia replied. Still serene, still smiling.

Nightmare Moon gave a harsh laugh and spun away. “They’ll always need you. They’ll always need somepony to make the nasty problems go away so they can get on with their meaningless lives. You’ve been their sucker, don’t you see? It’s time to do something for yourself for once.”

Star Swirl’s old words sprang to mind, and Celestia spoke them out. “It’s not about me.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Nightmare Moon snapped, turning back. “Tia, it is about you, and you know why? Because you’ve already given them everything. You don’t owe them. If anything, they owe you! So stop it with the goody two-hooves routine and take a load off. It’s nice here.”

“It’s cold,” Celestia said.

“Not on the ground.” Nightmare Moon tapped a hoof and smiled. A kindly smile, hiding its fangs. “You know how it feels. Like the air around you is warm like a heated blanket, soothing your body and letting you drift off. No more nightmares this time. Just sleep. You want to forget me, remember?” It gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Well you can. Isn’t that great?”

Celestia started walking again, past the other mare. “Why do you all want me to stay?”

“Because it felt good,” Nightmare Moon called after her, a note of pleading entering its voice. “All that weight was finally off your shoulders. Would it really be so selfish of you to stay? To be without pain, without damned regrets, for the first time in forever?”

Celestia was nothing if not patient, but the words pricked her anger. She turned her head back, fixing the dark sister with a glare.

The burst of anger waned as the ghost met her eyes. Nightmare Moon gazed back glumly, like a discarded friend. 

Celestia grimaced, wishing this the old Nightmare instead. With its cruel taunts, at least she could bite back. But not with this one, this strange, earnest sibling.

“Sister, why do you want me to die?” Celestia asked, and she felt more assured for saying it out loud. As well-intentioned as these apparitions seemed, their roads led only one place. Her magic would slip with her memories, and all chance of coming back would be lost.

It would be death. She wouldn’t let this Nightmare trick her.

But why did it look so sad? 

Nightmare Moon smiled weakly, and gently shook its head. “Because we know you.”

Celestia’s face fell from its challenging gaze. She shirked from the illusory sister and turned away, breathing out shakily. The ghost was wrong. It was wrong about her, and yet she felt so haunted. The air's chill brushed her heart, sending a shiver through her body.

Hunched low against the cold, Celestia began staggering off. She walked maybe seven steps before Nightmare Moon’s voice came out again.

“I’m not your sister.”

Celestia paused, raising her head a fraction. But she did not look. 

Instead, she answered. “Yes you are. You never stopped being Luna.”

Silence tarried behind her. Celestia glanced back and saw Nightmare Moon still there, watching. With that sad, pitying smile on its face.

She couldn’t linger. Celestia turned away for the last time and resumed her trod, trying not to hear the words it called after her.

“You haven’t realized?” Nightmare Moon’s shout was echoed and quiet, as if heard from a great distance. “I’m not Luna, any more than he was Sombra.”









Celestia tried to focus. One step at a time. The encompassing grey was lightening even more, now like a foggy morning. She was almost there.

But thoughts of the conversation kept needling her mind. “Because we know you.” 

“I’m not Luna, he’s not Sombra.”

Then her words with the Sombra-ghost had been wasted. The answers she sought, the reconciliation she dreamed of, would never come to pass. Ten thousand years from now she’d sigh and wonder, just as she always had. Was Sombra the stern king, or the red-horned monster? Or both?

No answers. Never any answers.

“Not true,” she said with a shallow breath. Celestia was exhausted. Her pace had slowed to a plod. Her head hung low, nose brushing the warmth beneath her.

There were some answers out there. Luna had returned, and told her all about Nightmare Moon. That was something.

Luna. Her sister, whatever that word meant.

But then what was the mare she spoke to just now? What was the Nightmare Moon who taunted her for so many years?

Maybe these questions were good for her. Anything to distract from how tired she felt. Her wings dragged on the ethereal ground, and Celestia accepted the warmth as their tips sunk low. Her whole body was so cold, so pained.

On, on. One step, then another.

She stumbled. She fell, pitching forward in a heap.

The landing was soft. It didn’t hurt at all, and the warmth wrapped her again. Head to hoof, and in her mind as well.

It was nice. She was sleepy.

Celestia stood. The warmth vanished, and she walked on.

When she stumbled again, she fell to the left. This time she didn’t hit the ground. A pony was standing on that side, and helped catch her with their back. 

The black form remained still, with Celestia leaning against it for a moment. It was a unicorn, nearly as tall as the princess. A smooth, young hoof braced Celestia’s shoulder, helping her regain her balance.

Celestia looked, already knowing and dreading the sight. Rooke. Rooke the young mare, keeping her steadying hoof on the princess until she could stand again.

There was gentle worry on Rooke’s narrow mouth. Her grey eyes moved quickly, scanning Celestia’s face while the princess looked back.

The sight of her old friend nearly finished Celestia. She wanted – she needed – to collapse in Rooke’s hooves. To drop the shredded old mask and bawl like an infant. To let Rooke comfort her, wipe her tears, and gently, tenderly, lie down with her. Not even as a lover, but as the closest of friends. After so many ghosts, so many trials, Celestia’s heart was at its end.

But her will was not. Not yet. Celestia rallied her best smile and turned it to Rooke, warding the unspoken worry with confident assurance.

It wasn’t working. Celestia could see it with the deepening of Rooke’s frown, and the softening of her eyes. Maybe on a better day Celestia could have fooled her, but not here and now. She couldn’t muster the serene smile she carried for a thousand years, or even the softer, sadder one she kept for herself.

This smile was broken. A pained, ragged insult to its own face.

“Princess.” Rooke’s voice was quiet. The black hoof raised higher, brushing itself to Celestia’s cheek. “Lie down and rest. You deserve it.”

Different words than Nightmare Moon’s, but the same message. Celestia stepped back, slipping away from the touch. 

“And abandon my ponies,” she said, accusation thick in the words.

“You’ve given them too much already,” Rooke pressed. “A thousand years of peace and order, carried the whole way on your own back.”

Celestia huffed, turning her head to the side. “So? What good would it all be, if everything I’ve worked for dies? If–”

A wet sob barked from her throat, interrupting her. Celestia shook her head hard and finished. “If I don’t leave anything behind? I might as well not have bothered.”

Rooke’s answer was fast, like she had already pondered the same. “You were never going to leave anything behind. You would die with Equestria, and it would die with you.”

“Neither will die.” Celestia said it as a harsh whisper. “I’ll return. Make things right.”

“And what then!?” Rooke snapped – a careworn, frustrated shout. “Live forever, hunched over your desk? Smiling your stupid little smile for the rubes, then turning around to argue with the dead?”

Celestia shook her head, eyes away. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” Rooke insisted. “You hoped you were turning perfect, but you’re not. It’s not going to get better.”

“But it will get a great deal worse if I don’t return.”

“Not for you!” Rooke’s voice cracked with the words. “You can’t protect ponies from everything forever. There’s always going to be problems. So please: be selfish, just this once. I’ll…”

She sniffed loudly. The black unicorn smiled back to Celestia, trembling and red-eyed. “I’ll lie down with you. I know you’ll be scared for the ponies, so I’ll hold you tight until it all goes away.”

Silence fell. Celestia gazed for a moment, tempted and afraid. 

The embrace, the sleep. The gentle voice, shushing her as she drifted off. Wanted. Needed.

Celestia bowed. “Thank you, Rooke.”

She righted her head and turned away. Step by step, she walked into the clearing fog.

A moment passed, and Rooke called after her. “Good luck, Princess!”

Celestia stopped. “You ask me to stay, then wish me luck as I leave?” Her confusion added an edge of indignation to the words. “What are you all, anyway?”

Silence. She looked, wondering if Rooke had chosen not to answer or simply vanished.

Rooke wasn’t there, but another was. Ten paces behind her stood a slim, white mare named Celestia, smiling back with battered comfort.

Celestia startled. She blinked, and the image was gone.

She looked for another few seconds. Her mind wondered if she really saw it, and what it meant, but she got nowhere. She was tired, and there was no time to waste. Celestia turned her head forwards and continued to walk.

Then, pressed by some instinct, she began to run.









No single moment brought Celestia back to the waking world.  The soft, indistinct warmth beneath her hooves hardened slowly to marble tiles. Shapes became visible in the grey surroundings, clearer and more real with every blink.

Running the last distance chased away the chill, though her ill-used legs throbbed with exertion. She was no stronger than when she departed.

But Celestia kept running, letting her faded mane flail behind her. She didn’t even know what feeling sped her so. Not sisterly love, not tired duty.

She wondered, and had no answer. Yet still she ran, until the last grey wisp had vanished and she lived once more.









Celestia announced her return with an instant of destruction. She hurled an ancient lance, its rune-scribed shaft lost to the bright whiteness of her power.

Trottingham’s gift, from the Quincentennial. Five hundred years, and still it remained a lance fit for its owner. Potent and crackling, it struck from the ground, a bolt of lightning against the towering fiend that was Absalom.

Luna and the others were still there, fighting hard. Three alicorns and six brave friends, whose strength and courage had endured Celestia’s fall. They recoiled, blinded and buffeted as the sun-fueled lance exploded.

None of them saw it shatter. It was already too bright to behold in striking the creature, but as the ancient gift broke it unleashed a light to blind the world. Across Equestria, ponies covered their eyes against the moment that returned Celestia to the fray.

Absalom had no eyes, but a different pain was reserved for it. The shattering lance sent a thousand shards of metal into its brackish flesh, each impossibly sharp and hot as a star. They impaled and burned – cutting muscles, cooking blood, and silencing mouths. Such was their force that Absalom rocked back on its grasshopper legs and screamed with every mouth it had left.

Quiet as a statue, Celestia watched it stagger. A stone frown marked her face, standing amidst the ruined palace.

After a moment, a sigh escaped her. None of the shards had penetrated even halfway through the monster’s body. The fiend was wounded and nothing more. 

It would recover. Her greatest blow had been in vain. Again.

Celestia’s gaze stayed upon it, her visage grim. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see the ponies gather to her. They should have pressed the attack, but perhaps were dazed by her unexpected return. Or perhaps the answer was simpler – Luna landed unsteadily to the right, staggered and panting as she came to earth. Even with her eyes away, Celestia could smell the blood.

They were tired. Both from sorrow, and the sliding, failing battle.

Her gaze turned, and she looked to them. The mortals looked back with wide-eyed wonder, though they had their own wounds. The yellow pegasus walked with the earthbound races, her left wing mangled beyond reason. Flying masonry had struck the white unicorn hard, ripping her face and neck into grotesque parodies. She breathed softly through her mouth, one hoof clamped to a broken nose.

Pain marked their eyes, but it was nothing to the awe. They saw Celestia die… and here she was.

Twilight smiled warmly at her. Not that worshipful grin, but a smaller, contented one. She looked to her mentor expectantly, as did her brother and his wife.

Luna still panted for breath, her head lowered. She had carried the battle, shepherding and protecting the younger ponies. It took its toll in a dozen minor cuts and breaks across her body.

She raised her head after a moment and looked to Celestia. A small twist of the lips showed her relieved smile, though worry clouded it. They both knew this fight wasn’t over.

Seconds passed quietly between the ponies. Celestia knew she had to speak. She knew what she had to say, though she wondered if she could say it.

“I have returned,” she began. She said it loudly, strongly, her head raised. For the barest second, she was Princess Celestia. Save for Luna, the only Celestia they had ever known. Perfect. Invincible, even from death.

But she wasn’t that pony. Not anymore, if she ever was. Her head fell, the grayed mane collapsing to each side.

“And I…”

This was it. She peeked out from between her locks, eyes begging forgiveness for her failure, for what must be said. The others’ smiles were gone, their faces distraught at seeing her so.

Celestia’s head sunk lower still, turning her gaze to the ground.

“I cannot… do this alone.”

Silence fell again. Ponies shuffled and looked to each other for answers.

Except for Luna. After only a second’s pause, she limped forward. Celestia felt her sister’s neck descend over her own, felt her soft nose nuzzle the faded mane.

“You never had to.”

Celestia gulped hard, swallowing her emotion before it could erupt. Four words from Luna’s mouth, yet they held so much within them. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Understanding. Celestia felt like she would melt or burst, and she wasn’t sure which. She didn’t understand it at all, but she wanted Luna to stay.

Luna. Sister. 

Eyes widened as realization dawned. That word means this!

The ground shook beneath their hooves, and a crash sounded not far away. Absalom had regained its footing.

They were out of time. “We must act,” Celestia said with resignation, withdrawing from Luna’s nuzzle.

“Then we shall,” Luna answered. She smiled – not with great confidence, but with greater heart. “We’ll do this just like we did with Sombra.”

“What–”

Celestia caught her words as Luna turned to fly, but it was too late. Luna heard, they all heard, so there was nothing to do but finish.

She looked away. “What did we do with Sombra?” Celestia asked, flushing with the question. She forgot, and everypony saw it. Forgetful. Senile.

Tired. Hurting.

Rooke was right. It doesn’t get better.

The night princess paused and blinked, an instant of surprise on her face.

Of course she’s surprised. Celestia’s thoughts growled in her mind. A stupid, obvious question from a worn-out hag who should’ve just–

Luna’s words cut the thought short. “We have numbers. Whoever Absalom is attacking does nothing but defend. Everypony else throws everything into offense. The monster will eventually turn its attention to another, but then that pony will defend, and the former defender will strike.”

“It’s not Sombra,” Celestia warned, pushing her bitter musings away. “It can fight two as easily as one.”

“Heh,” Twilight smirked. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve got four.”

Cadence was less enthusiastic. She kicked at the ground, glancing back to Shining Armor. “Shiny and I do shields a lot better than anything. Maybe we just concentrate on protecting you all?”

“No,” Luna said. “Do what you can. Throw it all in. Twilight, Tia and I are strong enough to defend ourselves if we focus.”

“What about the rest?” Celestia asked, gesturing to the mortal ponies.

“I can protect mine.” Cadence wrapped a wing around Shining Armor, and the two shared a nuzzle. “I need him, anyway, to amplify my magic.”

“And I wouldn’t leave if you told me,” Shining added.

The orange earth pony nodded, stern grimace on her face. “We ain’t going nowhere, neither. We got Twi’s back.”

Even the wounded friends stood taller at her words. Thin rainbows wisped between their necklaces and Twilight, and the young princess seemed stronger for it. Her horn glowed, and the purple aura shimmered with many colors at its edge.

The Elements of Harmony. Always full of surprises.

Twilight smiled to Celestia. A student’s smile, proud beyond words at finding something her beloved teacher didn’t know.

Celestia smiled back, but it was dead inside. Defeat still loomed. They might all fall to the beautiful darkness, and what then? Celestia doubted she could drag herself back a second time, and the young alicorns were weak and uncertain. Luna might have the strength to return, but she could never overpower the creature alone. Failure here would be failure forever.

And if they won? A thousand, thousand more years of sore wings and candle-smoke eyes. 

Twilight didn’t see all that behind the smile. That was good, for there was no time for questions. 

The ground shook again as Absalom stepped forwards. Four alicorns spread their wings and rose, returning to the fray.









The ancient years made it fuzzy, but Luna’s words jogged Celestia’s memory of the battle with Sombra. The “shieldmare,” as they called the defender, had to paradoxically be aggressive to the point of folly. She needed to be in the enemy’s face, presenting too tempting and threatening a target to ignore. It took discipline and strength, two things Celestia held in abundance. 

She dropped like a meteor upon the monster, just as she did before. This time, though, she arrested her motion to dodge a blocking tendril. Absalom countered immediately, raking upwards with a claw and swinging more tendrils down from above. Celestia weaved around the obstacles, foregoing her attack in favor of evasion.

The other hand reached up, a bloody stump where its claws should be. A reminder of her earlier wounds against it, and Celestia’s heart soared at the sight. Bitterly strong though the fiend might be, its injuries didn’t vanish completely. Perhaps enough wounds, with enough strength…

She swerved around the hand, letting her mind narrow to violent instinct. She could strike the mangled claw as it passed by… but no, she had to focus. The shieldmare was not to attack, not even for obvious targets. Otherwise there would be no difference from earlier: four alicorns flying willy-nilly, striking and defending with no plan between them.

This would fare better. Already the other three had launched their first attacks: purple, blue, and pink beams, cutting along Absalom’s massive hide. No telling damage, at least not yet. But they would strike again, harder, with time to channel their strongest spells.

A good plan. 

Luna’s plan.

The thought broke Celestia’s concentration. She came up with this. If we win, it’ll be because of her.

Such a strange thought. Another pony, even her sister, being so important. Being the pony with the idea, the responsibility. Not Celestia, but Luna.

Celestia didn’t know what to think, but the next second a swooping tendril chased it from her mind. Then another, and a third sneaking up from beneath. Absalom was focused on her, lunging for the seemingly foolish mare who loitered within reach. A few errant tendrils slapped at the other alicorns, but they dodged away and were not pursued.

Now came the hard part of the shieldmare’s task: to stay within reach, yet to endure without flinching. If she drew back it would turn to the others, and that she would not allow. She had failed enough today.

This she could do. This she would do, no matter the cost.

Claws slashed and tendrils grasped. A dozen of them, twisting around each other to strike from every angle. Celestia dared not dodge outwards, so she instead went straight towards the beast. Then she veered out and back, then forwards again. Never straying out of reach, never with a second to spare.

The air around was choked with Absalom’s limbs, causing each dodge to carry her to a different danger. The tendrils grew so thickly around that she began kicking off one to avoid another, causing them to clap and tangle around her.

It was inevitable that some struck home. A claw stabbed her, piercing into her aura’s shield. Yet with no magic wasted on offense, Celestia’s guard proved up to the task. It weakened and cracked, but held firm. The claw’s force knocked her to the side instead of impaling her. 

She tumbled in the air. Before she could re-orient herself, a tendril connected from her right. Again, the shield took the worst of it. But Celestia groaned with pain, feeling ribs crack as she sailed outwards.

She flew back in, not even taking the time to right herself in the air. A claw greeted her, ready to slash again at the unbalanced princess.

But it flinched, and Celestia soared past. Looking down, she saw a massive wave of light blue, curved from its source at Cadence’s horn. It had cut into Absalom like a scimitar, causing black blood to drip down its length.

Mouths hissed, yet the claws snapped for Celestia once more. The pause gave her time to recover, and she dodged easily – an obnoxious white fly, buzzing in its face and refusing to die.

It hissed again as Luna struck. She fired with precision, aiming a flat line of magic to the wound opened by Cadence. By luck or design, Absalom shifted its legs and the beam hit several meters above the target. Yet the focused magic gouged its own hole, narrow and deep.

Where Cadence’s blow unleashed blood like a seeping waterfall, this one brought it like a geyser. A few drops flecked Luna’s wings, burning away feathers. She flinched, but circled around for another strike.

Great legs crushed the old Sun Court as Absalom staggered backwards, its claws splayed at its side. It seemed more surprised than injured – its wounds were small or shallow, and its danger not at all contained. The dozen tendrils at its head stood deadly as ever, but waved slowly above the body as it paused, ceding the initiative.

While Luna came out of her tumble, Celestia surged forwards. She saw Cadence beneath her, flying even faster to strike at the legs. The young princess was beating her wings hard, speeding the journey with her own and her lover’s soaring hopes. A dozen minor wounds against Absalom had not cheered their hearts like that single moment of pause. Within nine minds had been birthed a wild, hopeful belief that the fiend was hesitating. That perhaps a tiny seed of doubt had been planted in its unfathomable brain.

The resurgent hope did not take hold of Celestia. Adrenaline sped her wings, but no passion burned within them. The small part of her mind that drifted from the battle turned only to the warm darkness she had left behind. To the ghosts within, and the words they spoke.

She came again before Absalom, feeling a twinge of relief that she had no time to spare for those musings. The fiend had righted itself and lashed out, bringing her every thought back to the unfinished battle.

As she dodged, Celestia saw Twilight striking from above while Cadence went low. Twilight – the weakest princess, yet the strongest in many ways. Five ribbon-thin lines of magic strung loosely from her crown to the ground below them. Each was a single color, matching those of the other Elements of Harmony. Red, orange, purple, pink, and blue – five strings of magic, connecting the friends in ways nopony understood.

The gem in Twilight’s crown had become shock-white where the ribbons met. She didn’t so much fire the energy as she pitched it, letting small, pulsating white balls fling out from the crown at curving angles. Some even missed the gargantuan monster as Twilight wrestled with the strange magic, but those that struck exploded like bombs. The blows were not great ones, but they were strong enough to harm the flesh. And while the other alicorns needed to collect themselves for each attack, Twilight was hurling her wobbly magic with only seconds between shots. She dive-bombed Absalom, letting her will-fueled power strafe the nest of tendrils at its head.

Celestia dodged another distracted claw. She glanced up quickly and dove to the side, anticipating the tendrils to slap again from above.

None were seen. She looked frantically to the sides and ground, wondering if somehow they outmaneuvered her. Only when she looked up again did she see them, stretching skywards to where Twilight flew. The young mare arrested her dive, eyes wide as the tendrils spiraled towards her.

Celestia had lost the fiend’s attention. This kept with Luna’s plan, but its flaws became obvious with Twilight’s first panicked dodge. Crying out in fear, she tumbled around the first two blows with all the grace of a falling stone.

A clumsy flier. A poor shieldmare. Celestia winged upwards, determined to interpose herself. To hell with Luna’s plan, Twilight was doomed on her own.

It was too late. Twilight’s unskilled dodges were nothing to the mass of ropey limbs reaching up for her. Two were avoided. One caught the tip of her wing, causing her to spin out in the air. Four more closed in before Celestia crossed even half the distance.

Still unbalanced, still dizzy, Twilight never saw the first tendril strike. It curved around before closing, seeking to wrap the helpless princess around the chest. Then it would squeeze, and–

It stopped. Rubbery flesh bulged as something unyielding caught the tendril.

A thin, blue ribbon. A tiny thing, tracing back to the star on Twilight’s crown, then all the way down to a pink mare’s necklace. Four other lines of magic did their own part, grappling with four other tendrils. 

The young princess righted herself. Her eyes met Celestia’s, but only for an instant. Twilight’s face formed a half-smile, the mind within surprised and pleased with its new power. She hovered in the air, tauntingly flying down to let the claws reach for her. They lunged for the bait, and caught only her ribbons.

Cadence slashed and Luna fired again. Celestia blinked, and shook her head. She wanted to take Twilight’s place, but that would be the wrong move. It would trip them both up, and Absalom might realize she was just a distraction.

Twilight would endure. She had to.

The best way to take her place would be to punish the fiend for its drifting attention. Celestia drove forwards, focusing her magic into the horn. It glowed white-hot as she sailed close, drawing to Absalom’s bulk without slowing.

It was time to attack with abandon, without letting even common sense get in the way. Celestia’s horn plunged into the ropey flesh, so quickly that her head rammed it the instant before the spell fired.

The explosion of heat erupted within Absalom, hurling the stunned princess back by the force of her own spell. She let it carry her, knowing she raced the blood as it sped to the sky.

Stars danced in her vision, her thoughts shaken by the impact on her skull. But the damage was done, and the mouths screamed once more. A crater had formed on its massive bulk, and a second later a new blue sword from Cadence cut into it. Its wounds were closing, but not fast enough to keep pace with the assault.

This was working. These were the kind of blows that were needed – not dueling beams, but powerful, savage spells from horns that had time to channel them.

But to buy that time, much was demanded of the shieldmare. Twilight had lasted many precious seconds with her friends’ help, but inexperience was swiftly making her pay. She flinched at every close call, and staggered under hits that her alicorn body could endure easily. These kept her off balance, making each guard clumsier than the last.

Five defiant ribbons warded off five tendrils, but another finally connected from above with all its might. The air broke with the sound of a whiplash, and Twilight dropped.

Twenty stories she plummeted, crashing to a shattered hallway – broken, senseless, but alive. Her magic had taken the worst, both of the strike and the fall.

But her aura had fled with her consciousness, and the precious crown was knocked away. Absalom reared back the same tendril and lashed again, aiming squarely for the fallen princess. It leaned into the blow, mouths silent, moving with ruthless speed.

Luna was on the wrong side of the creature. Celestia, too far away. Cadence had just cut into a monstrous leg, and never even noticed until the blow swung.

Scant meters above Twilight, a pink shield appeared. Shining Armor stood by his sister, gambling all on the hasty guard.

A ward that once threw back an army of changelings was not enough to stop Absalom. The shield vanished under the impossible blow, arresting it only for the barest of seconds. His magic’s annihilation drove feedback into Shining’s horn, causing it to smoke and crack. His neck jerked, his eyes rolled back, and he fell alongside his sister.

Yet that bare second robbed the tendril of its momentum. It did not crush them, but only brushed the fallen forms as Absalom raised it for another swing.

Celestia and Luna both fired beams of magic, trading power for speed. But the thing would not be distracted; not now, with blood in the air, and doubt in its mind.

The tendril fell – a slimy, gibbering reaper’s scythe.

This time it was a pale blue magic that rose against. The new shield cracked as the tendril connected, glaring white at the impact. Cadence had taken Shining’s place, abandoning her attack to guard the unconscious siblings.

Another blow struck. More cracks formed in the shield. Cadence stood firm, horn aglow and face drenched with sweat.

She glared to the creature, the only counter she could muster. Another strike fell upon her, and then another. 

The broken-faced white unicorn ran to her side, channeling her own magic into the defense. It was feeble, untrained. Worthless, but there was nothing else for it. Five tendrils hammered the shield with the speed of darkness, rearing and striking with wild, frantic strength. 

Absalom knew – the alien mind knew the shield wouldn’t last long.

It was right. Cadence was half as strong without Shining Armor, and she could not dodge without forsaking the pair. She was no shieldmare here, but a breached, falling fortress.

Celestia flew upwards, away from them. Her mind flew faster, grasping for a plan.

The chance was slipping. The wounds the ponies scored meant nothing without a means to drive it home. With Cadence pinned, other tendrils were swinging for Celestia and Luna. The attacks were distracted, but distracting. Neither princess could strike their hardest while bobbing and weaving.

A minute, maybe two, and Cadence would fall. Crushed to paste along with Twilight, leaving the beast against half as many foes. It could easily fend off the two sisters as it healed. And then the only choice would be to die against it, or flee to witness the End.

In a minute, maybe two, it would be too late.

So Celestia acted now, in Absalom’s last moment of distraction. When she stopped her ascent, she was high above the vanishing hope beneath.

One strike. Like a falling star, straight to its black heart.

Just like the last time. She failed then, but perhaps Absalom was weakened.

Celestia turned in the air, pointing her horn downwards for the charge. Bright power surrounded her, and she struck.

Again, she pierced like a spear into the putrid flesh. Blood and brackish fat boiled to nothing as she passed from the sunlight, stabbing deeper and deeper.

Déjà vu gripped her, grim for the memory of failure. Just as the last time, she burned and rent layers of mouths and flesh. She felt her aura fade again, diminishing as the blow expended itself on the protective fat.

She heard the heart before she saw it. The echoed, dull beating, causing the tunnel to spasm as she drew near. Unlike last time, Celestia drew close enough to touch it. She laid eyes on the knotted black mass, and her mind flared with the thought that this would go differently. She would slay it. Her return was not in vain.

With her speed fading, Celestia did not so much stab the heart as she fell to it. Feeling her momentum falter, her aura dim, she reached out with her hoof and channeled into it every scrap of magic she could muster. 

She touched the throbbing coils, and unleashed the blow.

As before, pressing her magic to the heart brought a moment of strange awareness. Celestia blinked, and the monstrous body around her vanished into blackness. Her outstretched hoof touched not a massive heart, but the chest of the strange man that was Absalom.

The white suit was in tatters, the fine cane dropped to the ground. Absalom had braced its lanky legs against her blow, and its clothes exploded away where she touched. Black, rubbery skin roasted beneath her hoof, and a pained hiss came out where its mouth should be.

Celestia released the breath she was holding, letting the last of the white fire leak out from her.

Déjà vu. The greatest blow she could muster.

A soft, resigned frown came to her face as the hiss turned to a chuckle. She hurt the fiend. She hurt it badly. But it survived, and they both knew she would not get another chance.

Absalom’s hand rose, and settled itself atop the powerless hoof. Long fingers stroked her fetlock, holding within them the promise of a painful, rending death.

The fiend spoke, smooth and cultured as the darkness rippled behind it. “There’s this saying, on another world. I wonder if you have one like it? ‘A day late, and a dollar shor–’”

Blue power flared behind Absalom, and a sudden, squelching crunch of breaking ribs tore through the words. Luna appeared behind it, her own hoof punching forwards. This one crushed so far through the suited back that it met Celestia’s on the other side.

Absalom gave a stilted groan. Over its shoulder, the sisters’ eyes met with looks of shock. Too stunned to celebrate, their minds raced, piecing together the events.

They had reached the same conclusion: one chance, before Cadence fell. An all-out attack, plunging deep inside the thing. Celestia a hair faster, but neither noticing the other.

In its wounded state, Absalom barely endured the first attack. Its great, evil strength was at its limit, yet remained enough to stop Celestia’s final effort.

But for Luna’s, there was nothing left.

“You,” Celestia breathed, still amazed.

Luna shook her head. “Us.”

The darkness around them began to fade, dripping away as though dirt on a rainy window. They were inside the creature. In the cavity where its heart used to be, before Luna blasted it to nothingness.

The blood was gone. The mouths and flesh were drying, calcifying. Falling apart like a statue of ash, letting the sunlight begin to shine through.

The same fate was befalling Absalom’s avatar. As its suit and body crumbled, it gave a second, softer groan. 

To Celestia’s ears, it sounded... relieved. A gentle sigh. A release.

Grief leaped to her face, not unnoticed by Luna. Celestia’s mouth contorted as she watched the creature die.

To fade. To leave it all and rest.

You monsters. Why you? Why you and never–

Absalom worked its jaw, uttering its last words. “You know…”

Perhaps a final taunt, or words of confession. Celestia didn't care. 

“Stop,” she cut it off in a broken voice. “Just stop.”

“You’ve done enough.”









No sooner did the creature fall than cleanup began. Emergency crews scoured the shattered palace, and within hours they cheerfully reported that nopony died in the battle. Guards and staff had fled as the beast took form, though many were injured by flying debris. All told, the whole affair made for an easy story: a monster had attacked Equestia, and been defeated like all the others.

And so, as was the way of ponies, they partied. They started at midday, and showed no signs of slowing as the evening’s shadows grew long. Fireworks exploded above Canterlot, and in cities across Equestria. Households everywhere produced cake, wine, anything to share with their neighbors in spontaneous outpourings of relief and joy.

Twilight awoke in the hospital, as did her brother. They urged Cadence and the others to go out and enjoy the festivities, and naturally, the request was not even considered. The eight friends celebrated together, holding hooves and embracing around hospital beds.

Celestia did not join them, and she did not send word. Her “friendship” with Twilight was a distant one, and her absence was not missed.









Half the palace had been destroyed in the fighting, but Celestia’s quarters were among those spared. She sat on the edge of her bed, keeping her eyes to the floor. A hoof on each side balanced her upright as she hunched her neck over to stare.

She did not answer when a knock sounded at the door. Nor did she raise her head as it opened.

“May I come in?” Luna asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes.” A single word from Celestia’s mouth. The only proof she was listening, as she did not look up.

Luna sat down beside her. The velvet sheets creased beneath her tail, but evened before they reached Celestia. There was room for another pony to sit between them.

Tia needed space. Something had changed. Something was broken, or had always been broken and only now realized.

This, Luna guessed. Tia needed space, but the younger sister could still be there for her.

They perched – together, yet apart. The only sound came from the rhythmic ticking of the clock, and the muffled celebration from the streets below.

Minutes passed, one after the other. When an hour had gone by, Luna spoke again. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Celestia said. So Luna stayed, and two more hours passed in silence. 

Luna glanced to her sister now and then, never seeing a trace of movement. Just the dull, defeated stare to the ground.

The silence was maddening, but Luna carried it with patience. She wanted to embrace her sister. She wanted Celestia to tell her of the death and return, and everything else that happened over the thousand years.

Celestia would not, would never. Out of habit and pride, she hid her wounds from the world. 

But the wounds were bleeding now, and could be hidden no longer. Least of all from Luna.

It could not be rushed. Day turned to night, shifted through wordless magic they summoned without motion. The sounds of celebration went on, as did the clock’s steady tick.

“I…” Celestia began, but she carried it no further.

Another hour passed. Fireworks danced across the nighttime sky, adding their whistles and pops to the background noises.

In the light of those fireworks, the words were spoken. “I did not… want to come back.”

Luna looked to her sister. Celestia was not crying, not even now. But her head bowed in defeat, and her eyes were red and puffy as they stared to the floor.

There was nothing else to say. Luna slid closer, and wrapped her hooves around Celestia’s shoulders.

Celestia did not return the hug, and that was alright. They sat there, mute sisters, as the night passed around them.
> Chapter 13: Heal the Wound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me, and be my friend.”

-Albert Camus, French Author









Again, the sounds of celebration crept in from the balcony window. It had taken months, but the castle’s repairs were finally complete. Ponies needed no second bidding to launch into song and parade.

Celestia frowned at the mirror, running a comb through her vibrant mane. Its grey hue had departed, leaving her pinks and greens as bright as ever. The castle, the mane... everything was back to normal.

But it wasn’t. 

She sighed, closing her eyes. These few months had taken years. Every day had needled her to no end, pressing her once-endless patience to its limits. Irritation flared within her at every minister and courtier, her heart caring nothing for their petty concerns. The old aches loomed larger than ever in her mind, stretching the minutes of each painful meeting. 

Even the calm, impersonal paperwork brought none of the contentment that fueled her these many years. It became a chore; a dull, frustrating burden that plagued her through the days.

Celestia had changed. The reason was obvious, though she tried not to see it. She ignored it, she pressed it to the back of her mind. She drowned herself in the hateful work, determined to remain too busy to ponder the looming truth.

The labor got her through the days. But one night, not even a week after the battle, her thoughts carried her to the damning seed of the matter.

I hate this.

She did not – dared not – think too hard of it. She wondered if it was even true. After all, not long ago she drew great satisfaction from her work. It brought a sedate pleasure, cushioning its discomforts with the knowledge of what she meant to the ponies. Princess Celestia – great, golden, and endless.

Celestia shook her head, blinking her eyes back open.

“Endless.” That was the rub. She was Equestria’s endless, ageless warden, and it felt so unfair.

“Deal with it,” she growled to the mirror, trying to chase the thoughts away. This was a petty emotion. It would pass.

But perhaps not. The feelings had grown strong enough to bleed to the outside. Ministers cut their presentations short, sensing her foul mood. She even snapped at Prince Blueblood yesterday, breaking a centuries-long tradition of holding her temper.

“You don’t hold it with us,” Rooke noted, perched on the chair behind. The black mare toyed with Greyfeather’s old statue, brushing plaster crumbs to the carpet.

“You don’t count,” Celestia shot back.

Rooke gave a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, have fun at the party.”

Celestia grimaced at the reminder, closing the door as she left. 

The party. Less than an hour after she snapped at the young prince, Luna had approached her with the request.



“We’re having a little get-together tomorrow,” the younger sister said. “Just me, Twilight, and her friends. Please come.”

Surprising even herself, Celestia seized it as a chance to avoid the public celebrations. “Should I bring anything special?”

“No.” But Luna paused after the words, and shook her head. “Well, yes. The doors will be closed, and no one’s eyes will be on us. I want you to be yourself.”

The words caught Celestia’s attention, as did Luna’s gaze. “No fake smiles or laughs. No masks. Just be yourself.”



And now, Celestia stopped in the parlor, wrestling with the words. Just be yourself.

Just be Celestia.

She could hardly claim innocence of Luna’s implication. “Princess Celestia” was a tired old mask. A mare she could never be. If anything, she was falling further from it with each passing day.

Luna did not want Princess Celestia at the party. She wanted Tia, the mare beneath it all.

But who is that? Celestia had no idea. She paced within the cramped parlor, shaking her head, huffing at the puzzle. “Celestia. Not ‘Princess,’ just Celestia.”

“No such thing,” she blurted, growling. “A riddle without an answer.”

Celestia swung her head, glum logic overtaking the anger. “Not true. She’s… this, isn’t she?”

“No!” she snapped, jerking to pace in the other direction. “Not this madmare, this weakling! Not this, not…”

A lost argument, and she knew it. The tension left her in a harsh sigh, and the pacing stopped.

The next moment, she left the parlor. There was nothing else for it. At least, she could prove herself strong enough to keep her word. To shun the party now would be one more confession of weakness, and there had been too many already. 

Celestia had lost much. But she remained proud, and there was strength in that.









A little punch. A Germane pastry. Celestia took her snack to the corner and began to nibble.

The others were in two groups – Luna, Twilight, and the blue pegasus conversed by the dessert tray, while Twilight’s other friends chatted in the room’s center. Voices were soft, and what snatches Celestia heard were of harmless gossip. It was quiet enough that each bite of the crispy pastries was announced to the room.

The low volume was surprising, and Celestia found it suspicious. Twilight’s friends were not quiet ponies, least of all at a party. And they all kept stealing glances, their eyes darting to and away from Celestia.

Her own gaze fell to Luna, and it narrowed. 

What did you tell them? It was hard enough knowing Luna saw past the mask, that she knew or guessed much of the truth. If she told these strangers about the bedroom confession, or the broken mirror….

Enough of that. Celestia chided herself before the thoughts could grow bitter. Would you rather have the pink one screaming in your ear, or Twilight clinging to your flank? Besides, perhaps she told them nothing, and they just see you for what you really are.

She could only guess at the truth of the matter. Celestia had been wordless but for a brief greeting, her face set in a dull frown. It felt like cheating – Luna asked her to be herself, yet she stood mute and distant. The spirit of the request seemed to demand she step forth. To talk with the ponies and listen to them, so that the real Celestia might be shown.

But she did not want to. In fact, as Twilight’s group inched a step closer, Celestia slid further away.

I don’t want to talk. A short-lived smile came to her face. You asked for the real Tia, here she is.

“Nah.” A snap sounded next to her as Nightmare Moon appeared, biting into one of the pastries. It swallowed and grinned, nudging Celestia with an elbow. “Start screaming at me, that’ll show them.”

Celestia hissed as through struck and shied away. She knew she was vulnerable. This was hard enough without the ghosts, and if anypony noticed her talking to them…

“Not now,” Celestia closed her eyes and breathed sharply, panic rising. “Please?”

The other mare barked a laugh. Celestia winced, but of course none of the others heard.

“What?” the Nightmare sneered. “I’m just trying to keep you on the straight and narrow. You’re breaking the one rule, you know. Be yourself. Go be the madmare we all know you are!” 

She stepped in front of Celestia. The princess turned her gaze away, drawing another laugh. “Come on! Throw a punch at me. You know you want to. Pound Rooke into the carpet. Sombra too, if you’re feeling nostalgic. And if these peasants try to make something of it, who cares? They're mayflies. Short-lived little prissy, whiny ponies who’ll be gone soon enough anyway.”

“Stop that,” Celestia whispered, hiding it behind the shakily-held punch glass. She tried to give a regal sniff, but the air came back wetly. Unconsciously, her hoof rose to her mouth, and she began to nibble.

“Well excuse me, Miss ‘Real’ Celestia.” Nightmare Moon continued, leaning back into her vision. “Quit stalling, give them the real you! It won’t even come as shock, thanks to Luna. You know she told them everything.”

“I don’t know that,” Celestia countered, forcing her hoof down. She turned her head to fully face the wall, refusing to even look at the Nightmare. “And Luna can’t tell them everything. She doesn’t even know about you all.”

“But she knows the worst part.” Nightmare Moon appeared on the wall, matching eyes with Celestia. The white princess recoiled, grimacing as her nemesis went on.

“You know it, too. You missed your chance, and now you’re stuck.”

“Stop,” Celestia whispered again, breathless. She swallowed hard, clinging to what discipline remained. “Please stop.”

But Nightmare Moon only spoke faster, her voice twisting from mockery to bitterness. “What, you’ll admit it to Luna, but not yourself?”

One last defense. “You don’t speak for me,” Celestia said. And she was done. A sob had grown in her throat, too large to work any words around. Nightmare Moon would have her way.

The dark mare laughed again, harsh and angry. “Oh, don’t I? Come on, I’ve been right about everything. A thousand years from now I’ll still be right, because–”

“Excuse me?” 

A quiet voice broke through the words, unknowingly interrupting. Celestia blinked, startled, and Nightmare Moon vanished.

A turn of her head revealed the speaker – one of Twilight’s friends, the white unicorn. Smiling shyly. A beautiful mare, mangled by the battle. Magic had healed the worst of her injuries, though it left her face lopsided and gaunt. Her days of fashion-model prettiness were over.

Yet somehow, a chord was struck in the battered princess. It was the smile – so like and unlike her own. For one bare second, it took hold of her. Calm and gentle, serene as a cloudless night… and so real. Not practiced and manufactured, but the shy effort of an amateur. Of a pony not sure if this was proper, but certain that it was right.

Celestia stared dumbly at that smile, choking down the fresh tears it threatened to pull out of her. She was so close to breaking...

She rallied. The spell ended. Celestia put on her own smile, too late to matter. Tear-stains told what the lips would not.

“Yes?” she replied.

“May I hug you?”

The strange request gave Celestia pause, and the young mare softly clarified. “You seem to need one.”

Celestia flushed, shame flooding her thoughts. She must look pathetic, to evoke such pity from this broke-faced girl. 

The others… she saw their eyes turned away, but surely they knew. Her whispering, her weeping. They had to know the truth by now.

Old. Weak.

Madmare.

She shivered, lowering her head.

And warmth met her nose, scented of lilac perfume. The girl had taken silence as an assent, sliding her neck under Celestia’s. A pair of dainty white hooves rose and wrapped around her, sliding through the ethereal mane to clasp at her shoulders.

Celestia trembled in silence – a crumbling mountain, but a mountain still. She would not break down, no matter how much her heart screamed for it. Not here, in front of strange ponies. They saw her fail, they saw the mask of perfection slip… but they would not, must not, see her collapse.

She leaned inwards, pressing her nose to the purple mane. It was strange, being hugged like this. Not like Luna’s hug when she came back, full of enthusiasm and misplaced joy. This was a gentle, quiet thing. A gift.

They stood there for one moment, but not two. Only long enough for Celestia to calm her breathing, and rub the silent tears off on the perfumed mane.

When she raised her eyes, Celestia fixed them to the doorway. “Thank you,” she whispered, not moving her gaze. She broke the hug, lifting her head high so as to look completely past the young mare. She dared not take the chance that a twitch or blink might cause their eyes to meet.

On soft hooves, Celestia brushed past the pony and walked slowly to the door. She focused, trying to blot out the shapes moving on the edge of her vision.

Escape. It was an instinct, born of pride more than anything. The knowledge that she was close, so painfully close to falling apart in front of them.

That, she would not allow. Not while the barest ounce of willpower remained.

A gold-shod hoof pushed open the door. Celestia prayed for the others’ silence, for their eyes to avert. This was disgraceful. Un-Celestia. But there was no choice – if she stayed, she would become even more so. One sympathetic glance, one word of kindness, and she might give in. 

She knew they wouldn’t mind. They would accept her if she shared her pains with them: her exhaustion and bitterness, her shrinking endurance and looming ghosts. They would embrace her as she wept, and try to find ways to help her. They would tell her it was alright to cry, to open herself to them.

They would be wrong. It was not alright.

The silence held as she closed the door behind her. 

Passing to the halls brought a return to volume, though it was a thousand times easier. Ponies in fine clothes courted her attention or passed messages, flying to and from like bees around their hive. She smiled and conversed easily, feeling none of her new-found impatience. This was normal. Safe. No ponies trying to hug her, trying to draw out what lay within.

She was Princess Celestia, and they were her ponies. All was as it should be.

Early afternoon was the busiest time of the day. Celestia threw herself into the work, determined to press on into the evening. Luna would come the moment she retired, and that was a thing to be put off as long as possible.









Almost midnight. As late as Celestia dared labor, knowing her tasks tomorrow would demand at least a little sleep.

Luna was waiting when she came to the parlor. The night princess greeted her with a nod, accompanied by a reproving frown.

“I did what you asked,” Celestia blurted as their eyes met. Only afterwards did she remember to close the hallway door.

The blue-eyed glare softened as she continued, speaking the defense she’d been rehearsing all day. “You asked me to be myself. ‘Myself’ wanted to leave.”

“That’s not why I’m upset,” Luna said quickly, raising a hoof in peace. The aggressive frown was gone, replaced by a sympathetic one. “It’s because you hid from me afterwards.”

“I was working.”

“You know what I meant,” Luna parried, disarming the excuse.

“Fine.” Celestia said it with a sigh. She stepped over and opened the door to her bedroom, already shrugging out of her necklace. “I’m sorry for how I acted back there.”

Luna followed her in, walking quickly to keep sight of her sister’s face. “Don’t be.”

“I killed the mood, didn’t I?” Celestia gave a wan smile, ignoring the correction. “It’ll be different next time.”

“No!”

The sharp volume gave Celestia a start. She turned to Luna, and found the other mare had stepped in close.

There was fear in Luna’s eyes that Celestia did not understand. Luna gripped her with both forehooves, balancing on her rear legs. The younger sister leaned in, and with nowhere to go, Celestia had no choice but to meet her gaze.

Luna fell into silence after the outburst, leaving Celestia to respond. “Luna, nopony wanted to see that.”

“I did.” The moment of fear was past, and Luna returned to calm. She released the grip and let her hooves fall to the floor.

“You wanted to see me cry?” Celestia asked, more coldly than she intended.

“I wanted to see you.”

A meek, kindly grin came to Luna’s face. In the lamplight, Celestia could see dampness gathered in her eyes.

“My sister is gloomy.” A tiny laugh came out from Luna, holding more sadness than joy. “She’s shy, in her own way. She’s had a hard life, and that makes her want to push others away.”

“She has demons.”

Celestia looked away, letting Luna go on without interruption. “And she’s tired…”

Luna hesitated, then finished the thought in a strangled voice. “…Of everything.”

Celestia turned even further, unwilling to show the weakness coming to her face. Even now. Her eyes went to the balcony window, fixing themselves on the moon beyond.

Tired of everything.

“I did not want to come back.” Her words, right after the battle. Her beaten confession. They were true.

Still true.

“That,” Luna said, her head sinking. “Is my sister. And I love her.” 

For a time, nothing more was said. Celestia stared out the window, and Luna looked to the floor.

She knows. The thought hit Celestia, and she grimaced. Luna guesses or knows everything.

But is that bad? A swallow worked its way down her throat as the strange notion came. We used to share everything. Why did we stop?

The reason was obvious, but worn and rotten. Nightmare Moon. Yet this was Luna, and the difference between them was great. Luna, as tender with her as always. A loving, loyal sister. 

No, Nightmare Moon was a hollow excuse. So were the thousand years. Both things had yanked them apart, but no sooner did Luna return than she tried to be a sister again.

Celestia’s reflection looked back from the darkened window. A mirror-image of the real reason they lost each other.

Even now, the old feelings screamed at her – pride, instinct, and cold love for routine. Stale ideas that were so certain, so etched in stone that they still had power over her. Let no one close, and you won’t be hurt. Rule alone, and the ponies will be ruled well. 

The old truths. Reality had met and slain them.

“Alone” kept her safe. But alone, she would have fallen before Absalom, and the world would have ended in madness and sorrow.

Alone, her rule shook from within by the hoof of its own bitterness. Solitude was her enemy now. Her thoughts were too noisy. She had tried to go on alone, as before, and was faltering.

But the alternative…

A grim smile crept to Celestia’s face.

A paradox. An unwinnable paradox. Almost funny, in a way.

She hated being alone. More than that, she hated the company of others. Not the ministers and bureaucrats who buzzed around her all day, but Luna, Twilight, and the rest she left at the party.

They were the closest Celestia had to real friends. They saw the cracks in the mask, and accepted her all the same. She was safe with them. If she told her story, they would listen. If she cried, they would embrace her.

But she did not want to tell her story. She did not want to cry for their sympathy. Their kindness drew out the weakness in her, and it felt awful. Humiliating.

Perhaps it was pride, or a piece of the mask she refused to let go. Either way, it was true as the dawn. I do not want to “open up.” I do not want other ponies in my life.  

Celestia cannot live alone, and Celestia cannot live with others. An unwinnable paradox. Discord would be proud.

She spoke, breaking the silence. “I did not want to end up like this.” 

Her gaze fixed outside, Celestia went on quietly. “I feel like I’ve sold my whole life and have nothing to show. Like I should’ve gotten something by now.”

Selfish. Does it really boil down to this petty bitterness?

The thought deepened her frown. “I’ll push it down. I’ll be fine.”

She was done. There was nothing else to say. Silence came again, thick enough to keep them apart. Celestia eyed her darkened reflection, her thoughts whirling too quickly to grasp. The past. The future. The doomed paradox.

Hooves padded softly on the carpet as Luna stepped away. Out of the corner of an eye, Celestia saw her walk to the other side of the room. Luna stared at something for a moment, lost in her own musings.

A long enough time passed that Celestia forgot about her. Her eyes returned to the moon, and only swept back when Luna gave a pregnant cough.

Turning to her sister, Celestia saw that Luna had returned to her side. A book floated in her magic’s grip: a thick, brown-covered tome, uncreatively titled “Modern Finance.”

“I want to borrow this,” Luna said, with more gravity than the situation seemed to require.

Out of habit, Celestia’s face snapped into its gentle smile. “That’s a very dull choice.”

“I want to learn.” Luna’s voice was intense, promising an argument if one was offered. Her face matched, looking to her sister with grave certainty. “Money. Politics. Law. Not just the facts, but the function. How you make it all work.”

“That’s too much,” Celestia said.

Luna countered in an instant. “Not for me. I can take five, ten, or however many years to study.”

Celestia’s mouth opened, uttering its practiced little laugh. “Are you trying to take my job?”

“Yes.”

That killed the shallow humor. Her face dropped, growing quizzical as Luna went on. “Because…”

A raw glint of horror came to Celestia’s face, and Luna hesitated. The last old lie laid before them. The strongest. Maybe it was too soon. But here they stood, and there was nothing to do except press on. 



“You can’t keep this up forever.”



Truth. A truth they both knew, but Celestia had never dared acknowledge. It was unthinkable. Maddening. After all her labor, all her loss… an end? A defeated, bitter end?

At once, she began to tremble. Her legs, then her whole body shook in violent, wordless spasms. Her lips pulled back, contorting her face in a strangled grimace.

The shaking grew hard enough to chatter her teeth. Luna reached a hoof, worried, but Celestia stumbled away from it. She sat down hard on the floor, facing away.

As the convulsions went on, Luna again tried to touch her. Celestia saw the movement in the corner of her eye and jerked her head to look back. 

She hissed, hatred consuming every inch of her face. 

Luna recoiled. Celestia’s eyes softened immediately, her expression becoming pained and sorrowful.

“I know,” she whispered. She turned away, her trembling replaced with stillness.

“Tia. Let me hug you.”

“No.” Celestia shook her head. She twisted her neck to face Luna again, now smiling weakly. “Thank you. But I want to be alone.”

Luna paused a moment, uncertain. It felt wrong to leave her sister like this. But it felt wrong to dismiss her wishes, too.

A compromise struck her mind, and Luna nodded. “I will leave. But I will sleep in your parlor, and I will check up on you later.”

It was not a request, but a statement. The balance between them had changed. Luna retired to the parlor couch, leaving the door between them open. And she only left once Celestia had crawled into bed, and allowed Luna to tuck the sheets in over her wings.









It took a long time for Celestia to go to sleep. Two hours and fourteen minutes. Luna counted every second, her eyes fixed on the parlor clock.

When she heard soft snores coming from the other room, Luna shut her eyes tight and left her body. The in-between space was crossed in an instant, and she came to her sister’s dreams.

Luna tarried a moment when she reached the dream-sky, questioning herself. Was she needed here? Did she really have to break her old promise again?

Perhaps not. The elder’s mind was no longer a puzzle. Luna knew the truth of things, and now, so did Celestia. This felt like an intrusion, coming again to this private place after finally getting her sister to open up.

But Luna was here with purpose, and it nerved her as she approached the dream-ground. Things were not yet complete between them. Celestia had faced the truth, yes, but she faced it alone. That would not do.

The light grew strong beneath her. Luna braced herself, knowing the terrible machine rested below. Yet as the last few seconds passed, she wondered if it would really be the same. Tia had changed, and somehow Luna doubted the machine was unaffected.

She squinted as she came to the ground, again struck by the stark whiteness of the place.

When she opened her eyes, Luna saw that her guess had been right. The machine was dead.

The plaster was crushed, as though a thousand hammers had worked it over. Wires hung limply from the ceiling. Steam vents burbled instead of whistled, leaking water onto the twisted, motionless gears.

Before her, the plaster mountain was a smoking ruin. The Celestia-head was gone. Only its neck remained – a crushed white shell around rusted gears, immobile and silent.

Luna looked down, seeing fragments of the jaw and forehead. No sign remained of its strange black eyes.

She released a breath she did not know she was holding. That head, those eyes… gone. They were not Celestia, not the Cor Cordis. That was good, though it raised a new question.

Where is she?

As if by strange design, one of the holes in the mountain stood taller than Luna. Rather than spilling out gears and oil, this one formed a tunnel into the gloom.

An invitation, if an unspoken one. Luna stepped inwards, past the plaster shell. Sight escaped her in the surrounding darkness, but her hooves echoed loudly. The great mountain was hollow.

Three paces inside, she heard voices. Senseless murmurings at first, bouncing through the empty air. Many of them, talking over and around each other. Some guttural and loud, others high and feminine.

One voice somehow combined both, and it stopped Luna in her tracks. Its words were indistinct, echoed alongside the others. But she knew it well. She could never forget.

Nightmare Moon.

Luna broke into a gallop.

The volume grew deafening as she drew deeper inside. No voice was shouting, but many were speaking, and the echoes rebounded across every word. Luna called out for Celestia, but all that did was add to the cacophony.

Shapes came alive in the darkness, bringing Luna to forgo all discretion. Her horn blazed alight, casting the place in a pale glow.

A mob crowded in the room’s center, dozens strong. Familiar faces jostled with strangers, all facing inwards and talking at once. Star Swirl pressed against a black, bespectacled mare. A filly with swollen, brackish veins stood on Sombra’s back, and he leaned his head forward to talk past a grey-feathered griffon.

Celestia stood in the crowd, though a single glance showed that it was not the one Luna sought. It was a pony of chipped plaster, with a golden halo around her head. She added her own voice to the din, spewing dust onto a blue demon’s robes as her mouth broke itself apart in speaking.

There were other Lunas, too. A bitter-faced adolescent, a grim mare of the present, and–

Luna pounced on the last one. She gripped Nightmare Moon and threw her back from the crowd. The black mare yelped and made to rise, but Luna slammed a hoof down on her chest.

“Why are you here?” Luna snarled. Her hoof glowed with blue power, ready to kill.

Pinned, Nightmare Moon gazed back for a second as though startled. And then she smiled – a sad little thing that looked strange on her face.

“Because otherwise, she’d be alone.”

The gentleness only incensed Luna’s anger. She pressed the hoof down harder, leaning in close with a growl. “Lies. She has me.”

“Oh, really?” The dark mare laughed, harsh and bitter. “Little late for that, sis.”

“I’m here now,” Luna shot back. “And I’m not your ‘sis.’ You are not real.”

Nightmare Moon glared up fearlessly, her words an angry hiss. “We’re as real as you are.”

“No, you are not.”

The hoof glowed brightly as Luna ended the conversation. No pity, for there was nothing here to pity. She knew the nature of this mare from the moment they touched – a dream, and nothing more. Luna gave her magic purpose and the nightmare disintegrated in a puff of thought. 

Now standing in its place, Luna could see over the smaller ponies. There was Celestia, the real one – lying on her side atop a pedestal too narrow to hold her. White hooves and grey mane spilled off of it, slumping to the ground. Her head curled inwards to rest on the gilded platform, with the left foreleg hiding her face. The body convulsed in sobs, emitting wet gasps and hiccups from the broken princess.

Luna stopped, deaf to the noise.

Cor Cordis. Here it was.

Even at her worst, even as low as she fell, Celestia never wept so openly. She never so surrendered to the pain. She dodged, she grew defensive, she even cried just a little bit when nothing else would do.

But even then, her guard was up. Those few tears were leaks, swiftly plugged. Discipline and pride worked in tandem, carefully hiding the cracks as best as they could.

Here, though, there was no hiding. There was just Celestia and Luna.

And the noise. This close, Luna felt it physically as her awareness returned. A hundred voices, all towards her sister. Twisting around each other in jumbled sentences, yet now the words could be understood. 

Clarity brought no comfort. Luna paused a final moment, her eyes closed. She listened – that much, she could do. She would never fully understand what happened to her sister, but she could try. She listened hard, trying to find sense as the many words and voices flowed together in maddened song.

“It’s not about you It’s okay to love You killed your sister Duty Love I condemn thee sinner Did Sombra love me You tried to save them Things were fine until Luna came back You know Rooke loved you One chance and blew it Porcelain perfect I pity you Madmare I don’t want to die I hate ponies You can’t keep this up forever It’s not okay to love You have to be perfect Do you want to play a chess game Princess Celestia Rule forever You don’t get to die Useless peacock Don’t be selfish–”

Enough.

Luna knew they were just dreams. Memories and visions scrambled together within her sister’s tattered soul. They were not to blame, and she well-knew their destruction would be symbolic at best. There was no easy cure.

Even so, Luna’s eyes glowed white, and her voice cried, “Be gone!”

Merely a symbol. But let the symbol be made!

A wave of blue magic flared out from her horn. It passed through the crowd without resistance, bringing each one of them to nothingness. No screams, no blood, just a hundred ponies that were no longer there.

The abrupt silence seemed to echo of its own power, ringing in Luna’s ears. Her eyes refocused, blinked, and turned back to her sister.

Celestia’s head was raised now, turned to Luna in meek surprise. No longer sobbing, but making no effort to hide the tears upon her face. Her throat bobbed, perhaps in fear, and a movement beneath her drew both their eyes downwards.

Luna grimaced – she missed one. One of Celestia’s dangling legs rested on a green crystal pony. A weathered mare with a tattooed face, whispering soothingly as Celestia stroked her mane.

Blue magic glowed, then shot off as a beam. Crisply, efficiently, Luna dispatched the leftover.

Her attention downwards, she only saw the white hoof move. Celestia’s leg rose, braced against the platform, and pushed off.

Luna did not realize it until it was done – Celestia launched herself, pouncing upon the night princess. The two collapsed to the ground, and Luna cried out as a bruised pain shot up from her cheek.

Celestia punched her.

The shocked realization slowed Luna, and the older sister quickly wrestled her to the ground.

“What did you do to her!?” Celestia roared, voice shrill with anger.

“There is no ‘her!’” Luna shouted back, hoping to death her sister would see it. “There’s just you!”

Luna braced, steeling herself for a fight. What if Celestia denied it? 

“We’re as real as you are.” Nightmare Moon’s words. What if they rang true? What if that crystal mare was as real to Celestia as her own, flesh-and-blood sister? If Tia was so far gone that she couldn’t tell dream from truth, how could she possibly be helped?

For one, stark second, terror gripped Luna’s heart. A fear, a hatefully possible fear that it was all in vain. That Luna was a thousand years too late to save her sister.

The second passed. Tia’s face softened from its instinctive rage.

“I know,” she said quietly, for the second time tonight. She rolled out of the grapple, turning to lie on her side.

Luna brought herself upright, but did not stand. Legs curled on the ground, she looked to her sister.

Cor Cordis. A simple pony, just as it always was. Perhaps a little more worn and weathered than the real Celestia, but the only notable difference seemed the grey hair.

Luna watched the mare watch the wall. Even here, behind all the masks, Tia was silent. Distant.

Celestia sighed, dropping her head to the floor.

Tired. She was tired.

“Please,” Luna asked, croaking it around a sob. “Please let me hug you.”

Celestia raised her head only a few inches, her dark eyes meeting Luna’s. She licked her lips, glancing away.

Luna swallowed hard and tried again. “Tia… I want to help you so much. With some of it, I know how. Like the work. And being there for you. But will that cure you of all this? I don’t know. I don’t think so. This is you, now. And this...”

She gestured to herself. “Is me. I spent so much time wanting to pick up where we left off, but I think that was all wrong. Those days are gone. We can’t be children again.”

Luna shuddered, guilt gripping her. I’m here to give comfort! Not unburden my own problems.

But she went on, quietly reasoning with both herself and Celestia. “We’ve both been pretending. Me, that everything will go back to the way it was. And you, that you don’t need help. We need to stop. You need to stop, before you lose everything that’s left.”

Celestia gave a cold, hard laugh. “What is left?”

“You are.”

Luna’s eyes never left her sister. Tia fell silent, teeth biting hard on her lip. Her eyes returned to Luna’s, watching with tired attention.

“I know you don’t want help.” Luna smiled weakly with the words. “But you need it. So please. Please…”

She raised a hoof, her eyes tearing as Celestia flinched away.  “Let me be your sister. I can’t take away your demons. I can’t make you not sick of the world. But I can hug you, I can be here for you, so please let me. Let me prove that you’re not alone. And… and maybe then, the rest will fall in to place. Maybe then it will get better.”

Celestia gasped at the last words, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She scrunched them closed…

And nodded. Only once, but that was all it took. 

Two steps across the plaster floor brought Luna next to her sister. She sat down and wrapped her hooves around the long white neck. Slowly, she eased it upwards until the head rested on her shoulder.

The neck was so slim in her grasp. It spasmed as Tia sobbed, coughing and weeping into her sister’s mane.

“I’m sorry!” Celestia bawled, clutching Luna with all her might. “I tried so hard.”

“Shush, you.” Luna smiled through her own tears, stroking the faded mane. “It’ll be okay.”

“Will it!?” Tia gripped her sister even tighter. “Luna, I can’t share power. Not now, after so long. I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m–”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem.” Luna cut in, sternly and gently. “We’ll think about that tomorrow.”

Tia’s grip trembled. “Tomorrow… will I remember this tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Luna nodded, rubbing Tia’s back. “You might be angry at me for coming here, but that’s okay.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Celestia shuddered again. “Just… just stay.”

“Of course,” Luna said. She squeezed her sister more tightly, pressing herself into the tired old neck.

After a moment, her wings unfurled and joined the embrace. “We really screwed things up, didn't we? My poor, dear sister...”

Hours passed, and neither moved. Neither spoke, nor did they cry anymore. They just laid there until the dawn came, bringing a new day before them.
> Chapter 14: Finding Peace
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No matter how far you have gone along the wrong road… turn back.”

-Turkish Proverb









“Today’s the day.”

Celestia’s words were casual, belying the enormity behind them. They were in the parlor, her and Luna. Celestia at her desk, Luna sprawled on one of the sofas with a thick tome before her.

“Mhm,” Luna hummed, her eyes not leaving the pages. A half-eaten scone and cup of cold tea floated above her, held easily in the same blue magic that propped up the book.

A twinge of amusement worked its way into Celestia’s heart. Her mouth twitched as a piece of the scone fell to the floor and shattered, unnoticed by her sister. Luna lowered the treat to her mouth for another bite, never taking her gaze from the book. More crumbs flaked as she chewed, fully transforming Celestia’s twitch into a smile.

Something had clicked that night, now six weeks past. Not a large something, for the world went on as before. Luna studied, and Celestia labored. If anything, she had more work than ever as Luna’s tutoring was added to the pile.

Not a large something at all. Celestia remained distant and serious, for she was a distant and serious pony. One with a clinical mind, that had for centuries solved facts and problems with cool dispassion. With the denial stripped and the emotion digested, she could face this last problem the same way.

Her patience, even her ability to care for her work were fading. The ghosts haunted her more often than ever, sometimes for hours on end. 

She was losing. 

She could not, in fact, keep it up forever. Not even for much longer.

It still disturbed her. Less so in the daytime, when her busy mind could dismiss it as just one more unfortunate fact of life.

But at night, it oppressed her with its damning finality. She would lay awake for long hours, shrinking into the bed and staring up with widened eyes. Much as she despised her own duties, they were all she knew. Ten centuries of dull certainty were coming to a crashing end, and the future terrified her.

Even in her fear, though, her cool mind knew the truth. Her reign was ending, and the only question was how it would pass. Celestia was yet proud – as proud as she was distant, and this time it worked to her favor. It would not end with her falling to madness and dragging the country with her. It would not end with her growing bitterness driving her to tyranny, or to callously abandon her duty.

It would be a calm, smooth transition. Even her pride called for it, for if the end must come, she must leave something behind. All her pain, all her sacrifice would be worthless if Equestria fell, and that must not become so.

Still smiling faintly, Celestia lit her horn. Small wisps of gold magic brushed the crumbs from her sister’s chest.

Luna. The answer to the problem, but so much more than just that. There was something about her now, something that Celestia could not identify.

Really, it was less anything Luna did, and more how Celestia saw it. Like now – she could only grin at Luna’s messiness. Illogical, senseless, but there it was. Celestia’s heart cooed in her chest, adoring the sight of her sister in lazy study.

Sister.

Perhaps, her rational mind wondered, this is a sister’s love. Not emerging as a pained scream for aid, as it did before. But the gentle, tender joy that love could provide. To not just give strength in the bad times, but to share and nurture the good.

She did not say it. She did not claim to love Luna, for she had long forgotten what love even meant. Could this feeling and that word truly be the same?

Celestia doubted it. Honestly, she didn’t think herself capable of the thing anymore. She found Luna’s quirks to be endearing, but that meant nothing. And she let Luna move into her room, and sometimes they shared a bed – those meant nothing, too. Nor could much weight be put on their late-night talks, or the uncertain, awkward laughter the young sister’s jokes could draw out from her. Most of the jests she had heard before, but they sounded so fresh from Luna’s mouth…

Perhaps this was love, after all. Celestia’s smile grew wry as she reluctantly took her gaze back to the desk. A new problem with the Griffon Commonwealth. The paperwork never ended.

Except… it would. She still wasn’t used to that.

Her mind kept drifting from the labor, always coming back to the same question. Love? Luna loved her, certainly. Even past those moments of desperate embrace, Luna loved her still.

Luna, who alone heard her stories across the many sleepless nights. The murder of Sombra’s army. The stillborn romance with Rooke. The long years believing Luna to be dead, and the frantic denial when that proved false.

Some things, Celestia did not share. The place beyond death, and the ghosts who haunted her… these were hers alone. Luna did not press for them. She listened when Celestia spoke, and asked for no more.

If it was indeed love Celestia felt for her sister, that was the reason. The unconditional acceptance Luna gave. No discussion was forced, no power pried from her grasp. Luna was trying to help her, not “fix” her. Everything – the coming reforms, the confessions, the shared room – all of these had Celestia’s consent. 

Luna even asked permission to patrol her dreams, not that she needed it. An old trust had been reclaimed: Luna trusted her enough to ask, rather than simply act. And Celestia returned the trust, freely giving her permission.

The more Celestia thought about it, the more convinced she became. “I think I love you.”

She caught herself, not having intended to actually speak out the thought. She glanced back to Luna, but the night princess remained engrossed in her book.

A few minutes later, blue eyes turned to the grandfather clock. Luna coughed once, closing the tome. “Ten minutes. Are you ready?”

They both rose from their seats, Celestia giving a faint smile. “Yes. I believe this is necessary, and that makes it easier.”

“Good. I’ll be right there the whole time.” Side by side, they turned and made their way to the parlor door.

As Celestia raised her hoof to open it, she blinked and startled as a kiss brushed her cheek.

“I love you, too.”  Luna winked at her, and settled a wing across Celestia’s back as they strode to the hallway.









A long, dull day passed in the new audience hall. Celestia’s replacement throne was cushier than her last, but the difference only aggravated her nerves. The fresh, white walls stung her eyes as well, though she knew that was nit-picking. Unwanted reminders of her failures – both before Absalom, and in her long quest for perfection. That it had been a doomed quest from the start did not lessen the sting.

Celestia’s announcement came at the day’s end. With the scheduled business concluded, she held the nobles and ministers five more minutes for a royal proclamation. As was her norm, she announced it without pomp or ceremony.

A brisk two paragraphs of speech. The first one officially designated Luna as her co-ruler and equal.

The second announced Celestia’s intent to abdicate the throne, leaving Equestria in her sister’s hooves. It would be done at some point five to ten years from now, when Luna’s tutoring was complete.

There was nothing else. The announcement done, Celestia left for her parlor, ignoring the shocked gazes and stuttering mouths behind her.









Though naïve in many ways, Celestia remained a masterful politician. The seemingly hasty, flippant declaration had in fact been planned to a tee. Declaring her intent now, years in advance, let ponies get used to the idea. They would pay close attention to Luna, and try to feel out her politics. This, in turn, would acclimate Luna to the unglamorous side of things – dealing with the money-grubbers, lobbyists, and bleeding hearts. Determining which ones brought good ideas to the table, and which of those good ideas were worth acting on.

Announcing it at the end of the day also gave ponies time in a more immediate sense. They would retire for the evening and digest the news, rather than clutter the afternoon with questions and protests. In the calm confines of their homes, they would consider the years-long timeframe and stand, if not content, then at least accepting. There would be time for protest later, if the coming ruler gave them cause for doubt.

Luna met Celestia in the parlor. She smiled, a soft and questioning one. “Are you sure?”

It was perhaps the twelfth time Luna had asked, and the answer remained, “Yes.”

Luna nodded, nervous but determined. When they first discussed this, she wanted a return to the old way. Two sisters, ruling side by side.

She was surprised when Celestia balked at the idea. They spent a long night discussing it, the older sister listing reason after reason why it would fail. Equestria – and indeed, any functional, modern government – needed a single ruler. Pressing reforms to accommodate the sisters would break a system centuries in the making. And even afterwards, no good would be accomplished. If the future brought a fresh quarrel between Luna and Celestia… the ponies would follow Celestia. It would ultimately be the same rule, with the added taint of hypocrisy.

Luna had accepted the words, but Celestia wasn’t finished. There was a last reason, one that she only shared after all the excuses and rationales had been spoken. 

“I hate this.”









“Do you hate this, still?”

A year had passed since the announcement. Luna’s question broke the silence of their bedroom, dancing out across the moonlit space between the beds.

Celestia twisted in her sheets, glancing to the clock with a tired smile. Midnight. They’d lain motionless for hours, but Luna always seemed to sense when she couldn’t sleep. Hardly a surprise, given the night princess’ nature.

She paused a moment, tongue twisting on the words. Conversation still came hard for Celestia, but she did her best. At least, when Luna was involved.

“Are you scared to rule by yourself?”

“Answer my question first,” Luna said with the faintest laugh.

Celestia frowned, turning her eyes to the darkened ceiling. “I do.”

Luna said nothing. A moment passed, prompting Celestia to continue. “I’m sick of it. I hate this whole place, and every pony in it.”

She turned to look at Luna. “Does that mean I’m a bad pony?”

Luna gazed back, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “What do you think?”

Celestia groaned. “Don’t make me answer my own questions.”

Again, silence, and Celestia did it anyway. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m bad. I don’t wish them ill, I just want to leave it all behind.”

“Canterlot has many places where one might find solitude.” Luna’s response was casual, but Celestia sensed the bait within it. There was a question yet unanswered, of the fate of the older sister after her abdication. The past year had seen frequent, loaded comments out of Luna’s mouth, noting the benefits of staying close to home.

She would be disappointed. “I won’t stay in Canterlot, Luna.”

A sigh came from the other bed. “You have time to think about it.”

“I already have,” Celestia said, her voice firming. “I know it’s selfish, but I need this. I need to go.”

Luna opened her mouth, but Celestia interrupted. “Now hush. We’ve an early morning ahead of us.” She rolled pointedly to the wall, ignoring the worried, moonlit eyes still watching from the other bed.





 



“I can’t even begin to say how much I love being your student again!”

Twilight clopped her forehooves excitedly, beaming across the tea table. “I mean, I know Princess Luna kind of twisted your hoof to let me come. But I’m really grateful, and I hope you’ll host me tomorrow, too.”

“Of course.” Celestia’s voice was dull, her lips neutral as she sipped her tea. She did not dislike Twilight, but somehow the girl’s eccentricities remained less endearing than Luna’s.

At least Celestia restrained the fake, polite smile that tried to leap out. Old habits die hard, all the more because she still wore it on the throne. Luna had asked her to be more honest with Twilight, and Celestia did her best.

It was also Luna who brought Twilight to the classroom, though that she “twisted Celestia’s hoof” was patently untrue. Celestia didn’t approve of the young pony’s presence, but she had let the issue slide without debate.

To be honest… she didn’t care. The fact nestled sideways and uncomfortable in her mind, but it was true as the sun.

Nor was Twilight the only stranger being brought into the loop. Three years of lessons had given Luna confidence in laying her own plans. She envisioned a more plural government – the revival of old agencies and offices to assume powers now held by the crown. Luna had already conveyed some of her own lessons to ministers and agents in preparation for the change.



“Corruption,” Celestia had warned, disapproval thickening the words. “Bigotry. Greed. The ponies will disappoint you. Even when you find good ones, they’ll just die off in the end.”

Both socially awkward in their own way, the sisters could not help but be blunt with each other. Luna’s response had ended the talk. “That’s all true. Problems will arise from this.”

“But I can’t end up like you.”



“You know…” 

Twilight’s words – far more subdued – brought Celestia back to the present. She blinked, seeing her student look back with nervous eyes.

“I mean,” Twilight stuttered, glancing away. “I’ll stop coming, if you really want me to.”

“It’s no trouble.” The white princess sighed, blowing gently across her tea.

“But do you want me there?”

“I do not mind.” A stern edge entered Celestia’s words. “I hope we can leave it at that.”

Twilight sighed, sensing the unfriendliness in her one-time mentor’s voice. Celestia grimaced, but said nothing more. It was better this way. Or healthier, at least. Twilight may miss the old Celestia, but she now knew it for the ill-fitted costume it was. To put it back on now would only insult the young princess.

They were not friends, nor were they ever. At least Twilight accepted it. She picked up her own cup, a smile working its way across her lips. “Well… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Celestia smiled back, just a tiny bit.

“Luna says you’ll be leaving Canterlot,” Twilight continued. “If you don’t mind my asking, where–”

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Celestia said sharply. “I…”

She trailed off, eyes to the window. Only with Luna could she share her feelings easily, without pride and fear contesting her every word. No such bond existed with Twilight.

But she could try. After a moment, she managed to continue. “I’m a private pony. I don’t know how well I can explain. You, ah, you know I’m not leaving under the best of circumstances.”

Sombra’s voice cut in from behind her. “Oh, tell her. You’re leaving before they find out you’re shit-in-hooves crazy.”

Celestia didn’t dignify that with a response, instead keeping her attention on Twilight. “I don’t want Luna living in my shadow. Or you, for that matter. I think it’s best if I just... go away. Fly off into the sunset, and all that.”

Twilight – never one for romantic phrasings – only smiled weakly in return. “You’d be welcome to stay at my castle. I still have far more rooms than I have any use for.”

Her smile became stronger, more confident. “And I’d like us to be friends. If nothing else, I hope we can try when you come back.”

‘If’ I come back. But Celestia saw no reason to correct her out loud. Instead, she agreed to keep the offer in mind, and moved the conversation to their favorite teas.









One evening saw Celestia return to her parlor – not at a walk so much as a plod.

The days had been bad enough these last six years, marred with bitter frustration and crumbling loyalty to her own ponies. But today gifted her with a special hell, bringing a new ghost more aggravating than the rest of them combined.

A plaster Celestia, so thoroughly decayed that black mold clung to its every crease. And all day it followed her, watching. That was not strange itself, for Rooke and Sombra had done the same. But while they would listen to her petitioners and comment accordingly, this new thing was simply mad. It blew wetly across its tongue and lips, creating raspberry noises not one meter from her head. And it never stopped. From the moment she raised the sun to this very instant, both sound and silence fought in her ears with the disgusting, endless burble.

It wore her patience, but even more than that it frightened her. She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide and haunted as they once more beheld the vision: a madmare, fit for the asylum. A sign of things to come.

“What will not come,” she whispered fiercely, unwilling to accept that fate. Not while an ounce strength remained to her.

Two guards overheard the words. Celestia flushed, and hurried past their curious stares.

The parlor was a welcome sight. As was Luna, perched at the old desk. The younger sister rose, immediately discarding the papers for a warm embrace. She could always tell when Celestia’s days got the better of her.

This time, though, the sun princess was too tired to be comforted. “I’m ready,” she mumbled, slipping out of Luna’s hug. “I’m done. I’m ready to go.”

“Go where?” Luna asked softly.

“Away,” Celestia groaned, mind clouded with fatigue. “Goodbye.” She entered their bedroom and shut the door, ignoring Luna’s confused and worried gaze.

Silence fell. Celestia smiled, welcoming it. The plaster thing had left, and taken with it the ceaseless burbling.

Exhausted, she fell to the bed and was asleep within moments.









“Poor thing. She used to be so great, and now…”

“I know. But this is the best we can do for her.”

Her wings and legs curled inwards, bound by cloth straps on a white jacket. Celestia gazed at the padded walls and tried to speak, but leather belts held her jaw shut tight.

“Do you really need to keep her gagged?”

“Yes. She keeps biting her leg. One time she did it hard enough to get through the strap, but she didn’t even try to escape. Just kept chewing her fetlock raw.”

A dream. Celestia realized it within a moment, and she brought her futile motions to a halt. There was nothing to do but wait it out.

Just a nightmare. Like today’s ghost, an embodiment of her fears.

She cursed inwardly as the thought summoned her plaster shadow. The decayed thing appeared in her cell and immediately resumed the babbled chorus it had kept up all day. Celestia groaned and twisted her neck down, trying to press her ears to the padded floor.

Soft growls and snorts became audible, rising against the endless gibber. Celestia welcomed them – any break from the copy’s noise was lovely, even one that was equally mad.

Then she blinked and froze, realizing the animal grunts came from her own mouth. She stopped, but not before the ponies outside heard.

“Has she… said anything since she came? Anything sensible?”

“I’m sorry, Twilight. She hasn’t.”

In a spasm of panic, Celestia began fighting frantically against the straps. She was sane. She could talk, if only they released her mouth. Growling and snapping, she shook her head violently, trying to bite through the gag

A last voice sounded, far more real than the muffled dream. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Luna stepped into view, blue magic shining from her horn. In an instant, the mask and straightjacket vanished from Celestia’s body. 

The sun princess unfolded herself, rubbing a chin and smiling ruefully as the fear fell away. “And I’m sorry I acted the fool.”

“Think nothing of it,” Luna said, using a hoof to help her sister rise from the floor. “Dreams have their own logic. They can carry us away even when we see them for what they are. Even I’m not immune when my own nightmares catch me.”

She shrugged, frowning. “Again, I’m sorry I’m late. I did not expect you to go to bed immediately.”

“You don’t have to come every night,” Celestia offered. She smiled, but winced – the babbling statue remained, giving an unpleasant background to their words.

“Well…” Luna shrugged again. “I do. Sometimes twice, just to make sure. I am worried for you.”

She turned to the statue, frown deepening. “Do you really see this in your future?” Her horn lit, almost casually casting the hateful image into nothingness.

“No.” Celestia said it firmly, with such ready confidence that it took Luna by surprise. The night princess turned, her eyes probing Celestia’s face.

Luna broke the gaze, casting her own to the padded walls. “This is a strange dream, Tia. I visited a modern asylum, and it’s nothing like this. Even here in cluttered Canterlot, it was a place of open-air gardens and kind nurses. A place of healing, not containment.”

She turned back suddenly, fixing Celestia with a look the older sister could not help but avoid. “The Hairington Decree. Do you remember it?”

“Barely,” Celestia admitted.

Not enough for Luna. “I read about it. A few years after you started funding medicine, a pony named Doctor Hairington came with a proposal to heal the mentally ill, rather than lock them away. He wanted gardens, empathy, and a numerous and skilled staff. He was booed out of the Sun Court for the strangeness of his ideas, but you defended them. And now, centuries later, the flower has long bloomed. Even the most vulnerable of your subjects may live in your sun, and know tranquility and peace.”

Celestia smiled patiently. “I know this was just a nightmare. Why the history lesson?”

“Two reasons,” Luna offered, her glinting, determined eyes drawing in her sister’s gaze. “First: to remind you of the good you’ve done, and how that good carries on through the years. And how it will carry on. When you leave, you will not leave ‘defeated.’ You will not have ‘lost.’ Rather, you will step back as a jeweler steps back from a finished diamond. You will leave the throne of a beautiful nation, where crown, wealth, and industry exist to serve its people. You have done a great thing, and it will be on those behind you to keep it up.”

“You flatter me.” Celestia huffed, but could not resist a slight chuckle in her throat.

Luna shook her head. “Flattery speaks insincerely. I do not, though I do confess my hope that it shall make the second reason more palatable.”

She swallowed, and braced her hooves. Celestia tensed, sensing that the next words would be more difficult.

Luna spoke quickly, getting out as much as possible before the inevitable protest. “These asylums, they’re very nice, very roomy and private. The doctors have words now for everything that can be wrong with a pony’s brain. Depression, phobias, um, psychoses. They know how a lot of them work, and they have medicines and therapists and–”

“No,” Celestia cut in, her humor gone without a trace. “Out of the question.”

“We’ll have you wear a disguise, just like in the old days.” Luna’s voice strained as she rose to the wrathless fight. “Nopony will know.”

“I will know. As will you.” Celestia – proud Celestia – growled.

“Won’t you at least try it?”

“No! Damn no. We are done.”

“We are not!” Luna’s voice was angry, but fear marked her face. Celestia ignored both – she turned and strode through the padded wall, the dream’s hold lost on her.

“Why do you keep saying these things?” Luna asked hotly, following her to the cloudy space beyond. “Do you know what you sound like?”

Celestia picked up her pace, eyes narrowing. “Give me space, Luna. You’ve always given me space, so give it now!”

Luna went on, now shouting after her angry sister. “‘I didn’t want to come back.’ ‘I hate this.’ ‘I’m done.’ Do you know what that does to me? Well I’m done giving space. I have to know if you… if you plan on…”

She couldn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

It was a dark fantasy, one Celestia had fled to more than once. Nothing so undignified as a noose or blade. Just fly to a final sunset, upwards and upwards until I find the sun.

“If you really plan to…” Luna tried again. But Celestia’s temper was still heated. She would not be fixed like a broken toy, and she would not trade a gold cage for a padded one. She would not be ruled.

Celestia turned – not with a snarl, but hard, imperial anger. “And what if I do?”

The question all but slapped Luna across the mouth. She staggered, blinking quickly like a drunk in the sunlight.

As she rallied, the cruel question released a spark of anger on her face. Luna’s glare hardened, and she breathed in sharply.

The retort never came. Instead, Luna let the air out slowly, sighing into the ethereal clouds. She lowered her head and sighed again, readying herself with quiet steel.

She looked back up and smiled, very gently. “Then that would be okay.”

This time it was Celestia who rocked back on her hooves. All trace of anger deserted her face as she realized. Luna. Sister.

I hurt her. The one pony I care for on this whole damned world.

Luna continued – soft, but steady. “If you’re really that sick of it all. If you really feel like you’re done, and you’re too tired to even try. Then that’s okay.”

Her head sank once more. Her voice wavered, losing its strength. “I just… I want to keep you. I want you close. But more than that, I want you to be happy. So if that’s what you really want, I just want to tell you not to worry about me. Or Equestria. We’ll be fine. It’s alright, it’ll all be…”

She got no further. Alabaster hooves wrapped around her, pulling her crying face into a hug of almost violent strength.

“Luna, Luna!” Celestia called the words, screaming through her own tears. “Forget that. Cast it aside!”

She squeezed tighter, grasping for words. “No, I am not. I am…”

The words came raspy and uncertain, but they were all she had. She could only pray her clumsy skill could give her heart its voice. “I am not ready to die. I don’t want to. I can… I can love, Luna. Isn’t that strange? I didn’t think I could anymore, but here we are! I love you, I really think I do. I think… I think I might be figuring things out. And I want to keep figuring things out, because there’s so much more. The future is exciting, and that’s strange, too. I’m almost free, almost there, and it’s so close now. Imagine: Celestia, free! What a thought.”

She laughed – tearful, sad, and joyful. “I’m sorry I grew angry. I’m sorry I said cruel things and hurt you. But I can’t be caged. Not now, so close to my release. I don’t want to hide, and bluff, and talk about my problems with ponies who can’t hope to understand. I want to fly. I want to fly for a very long time, and I want to be alone. Time, Luna – I want time to figure out the rest. Maybe I won’t return, but I think I will. I want to.”

“Then take a year,” Luna said breathlessly, returning the hug with all its force. “Or take a thousand. And when you grow tired of flying, come home and rest your wings.”

They kissed – a chaste, sister’s kiss as they gripped each other. Luna was the first to break it, though she immediately leaned back in for a nuzzle. “Any time, Tia. I think I’m ready.”

“Soon, then.” Celestia stepped out of the embrace. “I think you’re ready, too. As ready as I can make you.”

Her eyes lit, and she gave a short, surprised laugh. “Spring begins in two weeks, I believe. That shall be the day.”

“A good omen,” Luna nodded in agreement, though a wistful smile marked her face. “I’d keep you forever if I could.”

Celestia shook her head, but a strange light remained in her eyes. “Perhaps one day, you shall.”









“Sister!” Luna groaned and laughed, seeing for the first time the disguise Celestia had chosen. “You look so old!”

Celestia shook her head at the comment, admiring her new form in the bedroom mirror. “Well, I feel old. It suits me better than some blushing schoolfilly. Besides, it’s not that old.”

“Mature,” would have perhaps been a more accurate word. It was a white, middle-aged unicorn who looked back at her from the oversized mirror. With deep-set eyes, and a few care lines crossing the cheeks. Her faded pink mane was tied in a short bun atop her head, raising her size to only an average height.

She was pretty, in a weathered sort of way. A mare past her time of foolish youth, trading a smooth face for the stern dignity that experience brings. “Dawn” was her name. Simple, but it came to Celestia the moment she beheld her. The name of a quiet, distant pony, content to introduce herself with a single word. A good fit for the mind that lay inside.

Honestly, Dawn might never leave the castle. Celestia would depart with all her glory – flying high, triumphant above her ponies one last time. Showing them that she left of her own will, confident in her successor.



“And where will you go?” Luna had asked.

“North,” Celestia replied, her lit eyes betraying the excitement behind them. “Past the Crystal Empire. Sombra once told me they had a legend of an ancient city within the frozen wastes. It supposedly rests at the top of the world, built by a race who came before ponies or griffons. I think it would be a fine task for keeping myself busy. Just me and the snow, and perhaps one day I’ll return with a fine story for you.”



That was appealing. A long, patient search, with nary a soul around. Celestia would sleep in the disguise, on the off-chance she was happened upon. But otherwise, there was no reason not to wander as the alicorn she always was.

A brush of feathers brought Celestia back to the present. Luna’s wing had settled over her, the now-larger sister looking down with a gentle smile.

“Forgive my lack of excitement,” Luna whispered, tightening her wing’s grip. “Part of me feels like I’m losing you again.”

“You speak as though you won’t be patrolling my dreams.” Celestia said it matter-of-factly, wearing a victorious smirk.

“I know you seek solitude,” Luna said solemnly. “If you do not want me, I will not come.”

Celestia rubbed her body to Luna’s legs, laughing with the memory of how often Twilight did that with her own. “I never said that, and I do not believe I shall.”

“Can I visit, too?” Luna asked. “Not just guard against nightmares, but really spend nights with you?”

“Of course.”

Luna nodded. “Once or twice a week. And if you need anything, you can feel free to ask.”

Celestia laughed again, tilting Dawn’s head to match eyes with her sister. “You too. I’ll come back if you need me.”

“Really?” Luna chuckled in turn. “You shouldn’t tempt me like that.”

Celestia stepped away, her magic raising a pair of saddlebags from the floor. “Still, the offer stands. I love you more than I hate Canterlot.”









The end came with little ceremony, but great fanfare. With the last toast completed, the last hoof clasped in friendship, Celestia rose to flight from the highest tower in the castle. Below her, the ponies called their goodbyes, hearts full of love and admiration. And if a few of those hearts had noticed her exhaustion, or heard her talk to an empty room, then they were all the more moved by the imperfect ruler who strove so long for all their sakes.

Luna saw her off from the tower, but did not follow. She had many tasks before her, including a half-grieved populace to address. Besides, there was little to gain by making their parting a pained, stretched-out thing.

It proved for the best, as departing alone spared Celestia a great deal of embarrassment. Her flaccid wings began to burn within moments of flight, and by noontime she was forced to land. She walked for a time as the unicorn Dawn, but soon found her legs possessed of similar endurance. A few more hours of travel were all it took to make her stop for a rest.

She settled herself in one of the forests that dotted Equestria, this one of great northern pines. Their fallen needles cushioned the ground, giving Celestia as soft a bed as she could hope for as her weary body sank downwards. The limbs burned and ached, yet she smiled, for the endless headache was gone. Better still, the old ghosts seemed to have remained in Canterlot, though perhaps it was too early to say.

An hour passed in chilly stillness. Then another, and two more. Very strange, it all felt. Silence, away from the bustle of the palace. Even the hours themselves were bizarre, for to lay this long without sleep or labor was a thing she hadn’t known for many years.

Her mind twitched, unused to the silence. She wondered if it would ever feel natural. That and a great deal of other things were pondered as her brain invented its own work for want of any other. The coming journey was planned according to the maps from her saddlebag, and then re-planned twice more. She even broke the silence with a soft laugh, wondering if she might go crazy from the idleness.

The laughter died. That “C” word ended her good humor in an instant. She thought of Luna’s asylums, and wondered if this was a mistake after all. One among many. So many mistakes and regrets that she couldn’t give them a number, though her twitching mind made a go of it. 

So many mistakes. All of them preventable, if only she could somehow go back in time. Warn the Celestia she used to be. But that was a bland and useless fantasy. Besides, perhaps the proud Celestia of years now past wouldn’t listen. Princess Celestia – Perfect, shining, golden…

The thought’s trail brought a new frown to her face. Not a sad one, but the intense look she got when a difficult or obnoxious labor would arise. A thing to be done because it had to be done, and there was no point in complaining.

Yes, there was one more thing to do. Celestia rose, took her natural form, and stretched her wings. They still hurt, but the pain was tolerable.

She lifted off, flying south – back to Canterlot.

More hours passed in the air, and the morning’s pains returned to her wings. It was night by the time she arrived, and that was good – Luna had enough on her plate without Celestia confusing everypony with a sudden return.

As stealthily as she could, Celestia landed on her balcony. The glass door opened without a sound – one of Luna’s first priorities upon moving in had been to restore its function. They had a few times gone flying together, though it never became a habit. Still, the door was open.

A light touch of magic lit the room’s lamps. Luna was absent despite the late hour, though Celestia thought little of it. It was inevitable that the new ruler’s first day would be a long one.

Truth be told, the arrangement was pleasing. Fresh contact would bring questions Celestia did not feel like answering, and their goodbyes had already been said. Privacy was welcome for the task at hoof.

Luna had not fully conquered the room, and she likely never would. Celestia’s side was untouched, and there her objective sat. With trembling magic, she reached out, grasped the thing, and brought it in close.

The old statue. Dusty, yes, decayed, yes, but a magnificent work all the same. Princess Celestia, with golden halo and conquering spear.

She began to breathe fast, holding the artifact in quaking hooves. The thrice-damned hunk of plaster and gold. It would have been gone years ago, but for the intervention of a sharp-eyed maid. 

Not this time. Standing as a biped, Celestia lifted it slowly, her eyes following as it rose over her head.

She paused. It was very beautiful. A priceless relic. The labor of years from a griffon artisan’s life.

Who was she to destroy it? To rob the world of beauty and art. She could have it auctioned, if nothing else, and give the money to a worthy cause. A far better deed than destructive spite.

With shaking hooves, she turned it, looking closely. The spear, plunging into Nightmare Moon. The angelic halo. The mare itself: Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden.

Her trembling grew still.

“Enough of you,” she said, surprised at how strong the words came. With a quick, confident motion, she raised the statue and pitched it to the ground. The ancient plaster all but disintegrated as it hit the floor, sending dust billowing upwards and the gold spear bouncing across the carpet.

There were no take-backs, no chance to change her mind. That was good. Celestia breathed in sharply, relief flooding her senses.

She looked down. The statue’s base had endured, as did Nightmare Moon’s body. But the monster’s head and wings were gone, and nothing remained of the imaged Celestia. It would do. 

Celestia nodded. She strode to the balcony, spread her wings, and resumed her flight northwards.
> Epilogue: A Life at Dawn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Life is better than death, I believe. If only because it is less boring, and has fresh peaches in it.”

-Alice Walker, American Author









Months later, Celestia was flying still. The top of the world. White clouds above her, white snow beneath.

The idleness, as it happened, did not drive her mad. After a few uncertain days, her mind seemed to realize that it was alright to slow down. It ceased its chatter, its endless thinking. She flew as though entranced, her brain asleep within the waking body. Some days, that was all she knew until sore wings called her down to rest.

They still hurt, those wings. But it was an easy pain, and in some ways, a comfortable one. The “burn” of honest exercise she had long forgotten. A far cry from the withered aches that tormented her for so many years. Her head felt good, her back and eyes… good. She felt good.

It was a calm and silent life she led now. She would fly above the endless snow, her mind in meditative stillness until events caused it to rouse. Little thought, even little feeling. Like the great snow birds who now and then trailed her, drawn to her heat. She lived, and nothing else. And she was content.

Despite her isolation, Celestia still took her unicorn form when she slept or rested. It was sentimental and silly: she was fond of “Dawn,” and empathized with her. A tired mare, with the first half of a hard life behind her. But she had not given up, for the future looked to be a brighter one. She just needed time to sort herself out.

In her lucid hours, Celestia idly planned her disguise’s backstory. The family received names. The cutie mark – a simple red sun – explained by her control over “heat” magic. Celestia even made mental notes of Dawn’s personality, though truthfully it copied her own. Dawn wasn’t a mask, she was… a tool? No, a vector. A means for Celestia to speak incognito with her ponies when she returns.

“When” she returns. Not “if.” She mentioned it to Luna one night without thinking, and the younger sister had cheerfully pointed out the change.

Celestia smiled into the cold sky, letting herself glide to the ground. A short rest, and then she’d be aloft again.

She had no idea when it happened – when that first word had been removed from, “Perhaps one day I will return.” Nor could she say what feeling had changed her mind. She did not miss Canterlot in the slightest. Not the scheming bureaucrats, not the endless burden of the crown. The thought of returning to that place brought her a chill unmatched by the snowy ground.

By contrast, she loved this simple, thoughtless life. Not once had she seen any sign of the lost city, but that story had never been more than an excuse. A goal to give her direction. She flew across the tundra in wide, easy patrols, reveling in the meditative stillness.

She could do it forever. Quiet, cold. So lovely.

Nothing here. No lost ruins. Just snow, sky, and the odd bird.

One such bird streaked above her, uncaring of Celestia’s presence. A large thing, as these arctic birds tended to be. This one had such a long, slender body that it looked almost serpentine, with purple tail feathers breaking the monotony of its white body. She’d seen its kind in a book once, though that was in Caesar’s day, and the name had long fled her memory.

Purple and white. Very pretty.

A smile, small and kind.

An injured face. Dainty white hooves. The smell of lilacs.

“May I hug you?”

Yes. Very pretty.

Celestia loved the silence, the thoughtlessness. But there was… a hunger within her. An itch only briefly scratched by Luna’s dreamtime visits. More than once she caught herself fantasizing about her return to Equestria. It would be calm and quiet, just the way she wanted. One day a shy, white unicorn named Dawn would come to a country town, emitting barely a ripple with her passage. She would make friends – perhaps with an exuberant blue pegasus, or a kindly dressmaker. Perhaps the town would have a princess willing teach her how to be a good friend to them. Perhaps she would come to trust them with her secret. Or perhaps they would figure it out themselves. Luna had at least one thing right – ponies were more clever than she had come to believe. Kinder, as well.

The wonderful stillness of the north, versus the nervous desire to return. Celestia laughed – it was a soft and uncertain thing, for she barely knew how. But it was a true laugh. So many options, possibilities! All of them wonderful, and laid out before her. She was free.

“No.”

Celestia’s breath caught, but only for a moment. Her lips fell to a soft, weathered smile.

Sombra’s voice, from behind her. She heard him step closer, but did not turn.

His voice was resigned, lacking triumph or mockery. “You can’t leave us behind so easily.”

Of course not. Celestia closed her eyes, sighing lowly. It was… a nice dream, that I could.

She looked back. Sombra’s expression was stern, and he reached a hoof to grip her shoulder.

Her smile vanished. Perhaps I’ll never leave them behind.

But… I can try.

In a sudden motion, her hoof snapped out and knocked Sombra’s away.

And perhaps one day, I will.

“Sombra,” she said, voice low and hard. “My dear Sombra. You used to be real. You are not anymore.”

She spread her wings, the wide pinions shaking loose tufts of snow. “Goodbye.”

A dozen hard beats launched her to the sky. She glanced downwards and saw the ghost still there, gazing up after her. 

Celestia turned her head away, and did not look again.

A weird half-dusk floated in the air around her. The sun and moon danced strangely this far north, rising and setting in bizarre positions. With no landmarks around her, and with the vanishing sun offering no assistance, direction became a random thing. 

She flew on, with no sense of where she was going. She might be winging northwards, where the fabled city may yet rest over the horizon. Or south, to Equestria – familiar and alien, fearful and exciting. Or east or west, to whatever lands they might hold.

No idea.

She would not have it any other way. Celestia did not laugh, but she smiled broadly as she winged through the perfect sky.