There's a bakery in Canterlot. It's exclusive, it's mysterious and it's got cakes to die for. In fact, nopony knows who runs this place, but by golly Celestia is going to find out!
There's a bakery in Canterlot. Benny Bakery. Nopony knows what a 'Benny' is, but they all agree that this place has some of the best delicacies Equestria has to offer. There's one thing though, it's really exclusive and the pony who runs it is a bit of a mystery. Wait, is it even a pony? Well, there's only one way to find out.
They say that the best cakes are made in Sugarcube corner, located in a not-so-sequestered portion of Equestria.
That is not entirely true.
The definition of a cake is loose in the Benny Bakery. All things of sugary goodness were available. Nopony knows what a ‘benny’ is, but ponies all agree that the delicacies that come from that restaurant could only be better if they were free. Perhaps fortunately, a pony would go broke before they could become the first case of cake overdosing. Regardless, though the pricing and membership would warrant the occasion a rarity, the Benny Bakery was highly regarded with an exclusiveness that would make even Blueblood jealous.
Not surprisingly, Princess Celestia happened to be one of these members. Though even she in her vast knowledge did not know why she was chosen. Nopony did. Membership was attained through some unknown criteria. One day, a bluejay had appeared on balcony, just as she was about to settle in for a nap. The bluejay chirped her awake and cheerfully passed over a card made from a strangely shiny but slightly flexible material. The card invited Celestia to ‘partake in some cake’ at Benny Bakery. When asked, Luna told her she’d gotten no such card, and to her surprise nopony else in the castle had either.
If the promise of a cake delicacy that could rival the greatest pleasures in the world was not enough, another curiosity persisted around the shop. There were rumours that the manager, the chef and the cleaner were all the same mysterious being. The counter was never occupied by a salespony and the owner seemed to trust the customer to honour their payments. A small box with a slot on the top was the sole feature in the cozy joint, apart from the numerous glass-panelled displays revealing delicacies to the perusing public. The only evidence that the shop was inhabited was the regular replacement of missing cakes on the gilded shelves.
It was almost as if the place had been built as a mystery to be solved.
Had they not been so adept at it, some of the ponies would have sworn that the store was magical in nature. Others had curiously conducted magical sweeps of the place, but to no avail. The shop was not magical, at least, not magic that they knew. Somehow the shop ‘knew’ if you were permitted entry. Carry your card and you were permitted entry, without the card, the doors would close faster than the Gates of Tartarus. Celestia had heard, in passing, that a pony had tried to get in on a borrowed pass. It worked once. Only once. From that day forth, the card never worked again.
Needless to say, the mare whom the card had belonged to was distraught. It had taken several therapy sessions to return her to society.
There was no other way to get a pass, other than to be given it. It could not be begged off, it could not be stolen, it was a card made for one pony and only a few, if any, were given out each year. Many ponies dreamed of the day a bluejay would alight on their windowsill.
So Celestia treasured her card and guarded it with almost religious fervour. Even Luna had not been privy to the card’s location and Celestia shared secrets none with her reunited sister. Well, except this one.
Come hail, storm or world-ending catastrophe of which Equestria was frequently visited, Celestia had noted that the store had persisted in opening to its exclusive members. It stood as the one constancy in the wild world, but cakes remained the spice of life in Celestia’s otherwise static schedules and meetings. Still, the shop had its allure and though Celestia was convinced that the shop housed no supernatural awe-inspiring being as some sort of cake-god... as had sprung up in certain cults. She believed that the entity inhabiting the store must be a force of good.
For what being would be so evil as to create such sweetness?
——————
“Celestia, sister, you promised!”
There were frowning pouts. Fortunately, Celestia was immune.
“Pleeeeeeeeease, sister?”
Then again, no armour was perfect against a pleading sibling.
“Oh alright,” Celestia grumbled, wearily rising from her warm and inviting bed sheets to join her excited sister prancing around the room. “You’re right, I promised.”
“Yes thou did!” Luna replied smugly. “Time for thee to fulfil thine promises.”
“Luna,” Celestia said. “You’re slipping.”
Luna hesitated, then flicked a tail in dismissal. “'Twas intentional,” she replied nonchalantly. “I have control over mine words.”
“‘My’,” Celestia murmured, almost to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Celestia peered at her sister with owlish eyes. “Now, I am yours for the night, or at least for a time.” She yawned. “Or until I collapse by your side.”
“'Twould not be the first time, dear sister,” Luna commented. Then she clapped her hooves together. “Time to show you what I have created.” Luna lead Celestia by the hoof as she practically leaped out of the castle room and yanked the befuddled princess to the balcony as she regarded the night sky.
Celestia smiled her usual smile, a tight lipped curl of the mouth that made her eyes sparkle, like she was sharing a secret. Luna grinned back, chattering about the celestial alignment and tapestry that adorned the sky.
“Over here is Polaris and this one is Nocturne,” she confided, pointing to spot in the sky. Celestia followed the hoof and her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tried to sort out the stars in the sky.
“Nocturne?” she queried, her eyes flickering left and right, trying to find the star her sister mentioned.
Luna bit her lip, her cheeks going a little rosy from embarrassment.
“After a thousand years, I found a star,” she said quietly.
Celestia though she must of been particularly tired because she couldn’t grasp the significance of the statement.
Luna frowned at her sister’s expression. Her piercing gaze wandered past Celestia’s own, focusing on events not within the present.
“We suppose that it would hath been difficult to remember, it has been longer for thee,” Luna mumbled. Her gaze snapped back. Suddenly she snorted. “It was a mere muse, nothing more.”
That sent a prick through her heart. Celestia frowned, trying to cast her mind back to times bygone. A hoof scuffed the floor as void more than memory filled her mind.
“I-I’m sorry, Luna, I can’t remember,” Celestia muttered quietly. She instinctively shied away, but Luna only looked downcast rather than angry.
“Never thee mind, sister,” she replied, gaze distant. “It was a star to accompany the other. A dimmer star, perhaps, but always present under the guiding star. Always there to help a weary traveller, should the great star be eclipsed. Nocturne, We called it, a star darker but no less strident than her counterpart.”
Celestia searched the sky below Polaris, finally spotting the dim, winking light of Nocturne. Even with her excellent vision, she had not been able to spot it, but Luna had. She doubted she could have found it, even with a telescope. Even now it flickered uncertainly, like a candle that could extinguish with a mere puff of wind.
Luna shook her head.
“But such things are behind us,” she declared with a savage shake of her head. “And naught more than a deep longing and more than a tinge of fear and regret. Such emotions do not suit those that are eternal.” Her gaze drifted up towards the sky. Celestia followed, hesitantly wrapping a wing around her sister. The only family she had in the world.
“Yes,” Celestia whispered. “I think I could handle the opposite. An eternity of joy and happiness suits us.”
—————
Celestia awoke with a start, wrapped in the warm sheets that adorned the bedding of the royal suite. She smiled, recalling the night. She was tired beyond belief, her joints ached and a headache throbbed, telling her in no uncertain terms what her body thought of the alicorn so sleep deprived. Though her ponies perhaps believed otherwise, she was as mortal as they and she suffered the same ailments that afflicted all those on the physical plane. Pain was as real to her as the sunlight blinding her through the windows.
Sunlight?
Sunlight!
Her hooves scrabbled at the bedding as Celestia struggled to reconcile the fact that sunlight had somehow spawned in the sky without a conscious effort on her part. The experience was so foreign that she had trouble even processing the information. For a moment, she almost sent the sun back down so she could raise it again. Then it occurred to the tired princess that somepony had taken care of it. Knowing the situation, it was probably her sister.
A sense of deep relief flooded her. Luna. Luna must have raised the sun. She yawned and glanced over to her desk. There were some reports to file, and documents to review before she would open court for the day. Trotting over and expecting to find the desk packed with scrolls and sheets of paper, Celestia reached the desk to find only a single sheet of parchment adorning her desk.
I will take your duties for a week, Twilight may take mine. You need some rest.
Regards,
Luna
Regards? Celestia shook her head and smiled to herself. Even in writing her sister tended to be so formal. She glanced guiltily at the doorway. Her sister could have troubles with the nobles… Would they try and take advantage of her sister’s ignorance? Celestia twitched when white feathers winged her vision. She glanced at her wings that had flared protectively. She bit her lip. Was she worrying too much? Her sister was a grown mare. She could handle herself. She took a step towards the double doors. She could duck in, just to check on her sister for a short while…
With a decisive nod, Celestia headed to the door, her horn lighting up as she prepared to telekinetically prise open the heavy wood. Instead of the smooth sensation of a completed spell, her horn winked out and Celestia felt a tiny sting flicker down her horn.
“Oww!” she muttered quietly. A rustle from her desk distracted her from trying again. Frowning, Celestia regarded the parchment on the desk responsible for the noise. Luna’s note folded itself up into a miniature figurine of Luna, complete with a flowing paper mane and a scowling expression only her sister could pull off.
“Sister, We– I am disappointed in thine– your lack of faith in me,” Paper-Luna pouted. Its hoof pointed at the balcony. “If you must leave, it had better be through those windows and out towards Canterlot. I do not want to see you for a week.”
“We’ll see about that,” Celestia muttered, her horn lighting as she prepared disable whatever spell Luna had put on the door. Another sting and watering eyes was all Celestia got for her troubles and she was doubly ashamed as Paper-Luna tittered and sucked her teeth in condemnation.
“Now, now, sister. This is what is best for the kingdom,” she proposed, her voice pitched low. “You are dead on your hooves and stressed out.” There was a slight pause and Paper-Luna settled into a serious expression. “Sister, I’m worried. You haven’t been sleeping well of late. Perhaps what you need is a change of scenery?”
“I’m fine!” Celestia snapped and her hoof flew to her mouth. Did she just yell at her sister? A paper figurine, but her sister’s avatar nevertheless. She glanced at the animated object, her facial muscles carefully arranged, but her eyes steeped with emotion.
Paper-Luna frowned, confirming her fears that the conversation was indeed linked to real-Luna.
Before Paper-Real-Luna… Luna could say anything, Celestia spoke in a soft tone.
“Actually, I think I may need a break.”
Luna smiled through the link. “Excellent! Thou shalt not regret it… I mean you will not regret it! Now be off! Come hither when your vacation time has expired. We have a kingdom to run!”
Perhaps fortunately for Luna, before Celestia could comment on her sister’s parting statements, the paper figure crumpled into a speck and flared with green actinic light, disintegrating in mere moments. With a sigh, Celestia resigned herself to taking a break.
A week out of the job. Could there be any worse circumstance?
She sighed. Probably not.
—————
Celestia found herself outside the mysterious cake store. She paced around the entrance for a good hour or so. Should she go in and indulge herself? There was nopony to see her do so. A furtive glance confirmed to her that some ponies already found it strange that the celestial ruler wasn’t in the castle, attending to Day Court.
Celestia’s face scrunched up as she weighed the possibilities. She could visit Twilight, she supposed, but almost immediately discounted the idea. Without giving that mare some time, she would panic beyond all means. She wondered if the Crystal Empire was a possible vacation location… but it was too cold and the food there was all crystal based, a little too exotic for her tastes. Thoughts of food had led her inevitably to the fine establishment of Benny Bakery.
A cake shop, relatively recent, but still possessing an air of mystique around it that was hard to dismiss.
A local challenge. To decipher the shop without getting caught. She fought the urge to grin inanely. When was the last time she had solved a mystery? It must have been centuries… When she was a filly? No, it couldn’t have been that long…
Her mind drifted back.
Star Swirl, she thought sadly. Such a long time.
Abruptly her ear flicked, her eyes snapping back to store. The door was framed by steel and was composed of thick glass. Celestia drew out her personal card from her jewelled peytral. Staring at the shiny card, she held it to the pulsing red light from the little black plating on the side of the door. With a cheerful jingle, the red light switched to green and the doors slid open, admitting the alicorn into the store.
The sweet scent of sugary sweetness assaulted Celestia as she took in the menagerie of cholesterol-inducing heart-attacks sitting in their scrumptious little plated spots on the neatly spiralling shelves. The store had a strange alloy of sensations. A hint of muted austerity mixed with light-hearted yellows and whites that made Celestia pause at the entrance. Little did she know, she was not the first nor the last pony to enter as she did. Standing there, appreciating the impressional delights, Celestia revelled in the artistic flair as much as she did of each of the intricately conceived delicacies the shop featured.
Of course she peeked at the wooden box in the centre of the store. It sat on its simple stand of wood, a tripod more suited as a coffee stand rather than a feature in the store. It was the only thematic-breaking factor in the otherwise perfect setup. Intrigued, Celestia approached the box. She had only visited this store once, in passing, before she had been dragged away to an appointment. She hadn’t the time to buy a cake, nor look at the shop in any detail, now that she had, she was glad. The setting had revealed more than her casual observation had in the previous visit.
She licked her lips. She hadn’t brought any bits with her. Her ears wilted. All her bits were back in the castle. She couldn’t get back. Not that she hadn’t tried, on a whimsy, of course. Surprisingly, she had been checked by two swift-winged pegasi, bearing her royal crest. They informed her—uncomfortably she might add—that Luna had impressed upon them that ‘Princess Celestia was not allowed back until she was well relaxed. Give it a week, maybe two’. She could have ordered them aside, of course, but that would have left the poor guards in an untenable position with Luna. Still, it was an inconvenience to head back to the castle and retrieve the bits. Besides, she was a grown mare with adept magic. She could take care of herself.
Her gaze drifted from the box to an eye-catching rainbow flash from the counter.
No, she thought. No, it can’t be possible.
Sitting, as pretty as you pleased, was a cake Celestia had thought extinct.
The Seven Chocolate Cake.
Indeed the Cake was fable, even among the highest culinary chefs in the world. Considered an artistic piece impossible to perfect, the cake was made from seven different types of chocolate, blended together as cake, layer, filling, cream and glaze, finished with a liquid centre and a wafer topping. It was a symphony of chocolaty decadence.
She considered herself, a nervous gaze raking over her own body. Still in good shape, right? True, she hadn’t been moving around these past few centuries, but it wasn’t all that hard to apply oneself. Her gaze was drawn magnetically to the legendary delicacy. Her eyes were like a fly in amber.
She bit her lip. Here was a once-in-an-alicorn-lifetime treat, right in front of her, and she couldn’t eat it!
“You can have it.”
Celestia almost let out an embarrassed nicker. She didn’t, because no royal pony did. And if you told a soul, she would hunt you down.
“You can have it,” the voice repeated and Celestia was finally able to focus on the source of the voice. Tearing her gaze away from the legendary cake was no mean feat.
When she finally registered who had spoken, she did a double take.
The creature looked utterly alien. A mane adorned its head and the face looked like that of a monkey, except smoother and more expressive. It… He seemed to have a small crease near his lips, like he was constantly amused. He cocked his head, regarding Celestia, possibly amused at her blatantly rude staring. With a snap of her jaw she closed her mouth and fought the urge not to examine the creature further.
“You can have it,” he prompted, for the third time. Celestia snapped herself out of the daze she’d sunk into.
“You– thank,” she stuttered. She blinked, the slow recognition of what she had spoken turning her cheeks crimson.
A melodious laughter filled the store. The creature, standing on its two legs like a Minotaur, bent down and carefully grasped the glass panelling. Sliding it aside he retrieved the Seven Chocolate Cake and placed it on the slotted wooden box.
“There aren’t any chairs in here to enjoy it,” the creature continued. “So you’ll have to come out back with me. At least there’s a table.”
The casual tone of conversation threw Celestia off as she struggled to come up with a response. Eventually failing to elicit one, her brain shut down and forced herself to follow the friendly stranger that composed the mystery of the Benny Bakery… and apparently knew how to make a legendary cake from three centuries ago.
This, a scrambled thought drifted in her mind, is going to be interesting.
Celestia was so distracted with how rapidly things had moved that she had barely the concentration to hold aloft the Seven Chocolate Cake in her telekinetic grip. The door in front of her was made of mirrored glass, much like the one in the front of the store. With a faint rumble it slid open by itself as they approached. Celestia could not detect a hint of magic behind the mechanism and it puzzled her at how the door could recognise them and open without some sort of prompt. There was more to this, she was sure of it. Her curiosity grew as they both crossed the threshold and she was thrust into a new world.
Literally.
Feeling a strange sensation like she had been making a particularly tight aerial manoeuvre, Celestia stumbled slightly, disoriented. She shook her head slightly to dislodge the buzzing sensation that persisted in her skull and peeked at her surroundings. It took her a while to get her eyes adjusted, but when they did she could not withhold a gasp.
Beyond the threshold was something that was most definitely not Equestria. For beyond the mirrored halves was a sight so fantastical that Celestia feared to blink, lest she woke from the delirious dreamscape she found herself in. Around her was the cacophony of growling carriages, an open grey-clouded sky and many, many of the similar looking creatures to the one that had lead her through the deceptively plain portal. That they stood upon two legs and had smooth faces was where the similarity ended. Their mane-styling varied in length and their clothing was radically different from one to the other. In fact, none of them walked around naked. They were all determined to be different. She gaped at the alien landscape. There was no way this wasn’t magic, but she hadn’t detected any. How was any of this possible?
All around her was a cacophony of colour, energy and packed hustle and bustle of what was evidently Manehatten-like city life. The only things that Celestia found similar to Equestria were the tall grey buildings and the strangely similar furnishings nearby.
Though sounds around her clamoured in her ears, the creature smiled and his calm voice seemed to pierce through the disharmonious kerfuffle.
“Come, there are seats for us,” he said and the creature gestured at a homely table that did not match the others. Instead of sleek stainless steel that this world was so fond of, the table was made from simple timber, with the woodgrain peeking through.
Celestia hesitated, glancing back the way she came. The mirrored door sat snugly within this world’s doorframe, the mirrored glass out of place against the wooden frame. As some of the strange creatures drifted past, she realised that from the vests they were wearing and the trays they were holding that they sat in a café. A café on an unfamiliar world. It was strange the way passing creatures ignored the alicorn. Was it common to find her here? Celestia searched among the crowd. Somepony must be curious, surely? A smaller one, a foal perhaps, seemed to smile at her and waved. Startled, Celestia hesitantly waved back, but the foal was urged along by her parent.
A sudden thought occurred to her. Had she unwittingly trotted straight into a trap? Was this the nefarious design of a malevolent entity, to trap her on a world unknown, left to fend for herself? Celestia’s gaze drifted back to the cake shop owner. The creature caught Celestia’s ranging look and trapped them in brown depths. She realised that his eyes were a deep hazelnut. Though small, they were full of warm life. There was something about them that was recognisable, yet she couldn’t put her hoof on it. It was in that moment she decided to trust this strange creature, like she trusted her ponies. She forced herself to relax.
“If you wish, you can go back,” he said. “I will understand.”
She blinked at him and flicked an ear. Go back?
“No,” she told him, feeling her lips trace a smile. “I think I will stay for a while.”
He bared his teeth… no, he grinned at her.
“Excellent,” he murmured and gestured to the table. “We’ll get some coffee, or some milk. They go well with this cake. Maybe a little casual conversation to pleasantly pass the time.”
Celestia twitched as she realised that she had been towing the cake along with her all this time. She meekly set it down on the table, remembering belatedly that the cake was a mysterious gift from a mysterious host. She thought she’d finally deciphered who the strange being of Benny Bakery was, but now it occurred to her that she’d barely scratched the surface. She couldn’t help but feel a little excited. She’d thought she knew all there was to know about her little corner of the world, but life had a habit of throwing strange surprises her way.
“So,” the creature continued, waving away a waiter, “you must have some questions for me.” He stared at her, waiting patiently.
Celestia started, but quickly composed herself and cleared her throat.
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
The creature gave her a lopsided smile.
“That,” he said, “is probably the hardest question, despite its simplicity.”
He stretched in his seat, flexing long gaunt arms and wiggling his little appendages at the ends of them. Celestia found them almost hypnotic to stare at, until the monkey-like creature caught her staring and she had to avert her gaze.
“I am what you could call ‘a human’. Simple as that. It is what I am and thus it is part of who I am. My name is also part of who I am. Some have called me ‘Benny’, so I am Benny as well. Finally, what I do is part of the ‘who’ and so calling me Chef is also true.”
The unexpected delivery of his response threw the alicorn off. It took a while to digest what he had told her. His words seemed to ring true, but it seemed a little too…
“Mundane? I suppose so,” the culinary artist leaned across the table. “But do titles make up who you are?” His expressive eyes told her that she’d been speaking her thoughts out loud. That didn’t happen… at least... not unless she was alone.
She drifted back to the question he had asked her. Titles? Celestia found she didn’t have an answer to that. Her life had been consumed by royal duties for as long as she remembered. If what she did was truly who she was, then what was she outside of what she did?
“I-I don’t know,” Celestia answered honestly. She glanced down at her hooves, her anticipation for the treat all but evaporated by the troubling thoughts.
“Perhaps that is why you don’t sleep well and that is why you are out here partaking in cake,” he commented. A clink on the table startled Celestia out of her thoughts. Sitting on the table was a small spoon and a mug of steaming hot chocolate. The rich aroma drifted across the space, tantalising her senses. She licked her lips instinctively.
“Questions for another day,” he finished and with a deft manipulation of his digits, he grasped the spoon and scooped a small portion of the cake. He placed it gently in her mouth, before Celestia could even react.
Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, Celestia’s eyes widened as her tastebuds exploded with the ambrosial addiction that annealed to her tongue. A moan escaped from her throat without volition and the princess could do little to stop the heat from rising to her cheeks as the creature chuckled in response.
“The Chef accepts your compliments. Feel better?”
Celestia resisted the urge to dive under the table. Her royal armour was all but shattered. Eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as she considered the impish eyes that sparkled with levity at her lack of composure.
“Consider such as payment for services rendered,” he said, gesturing to the cake. Seeing her hesitate he began to describe the layers. “Hazelnut cream… Dacquoise of almond interspersed with white chocolate shavings…”
Celestia glanced at the cake and fought the wicked impulse as long as she could. It was futile gesture and she couldn’t help but scoop another titbit and indulge in the seductive allure of the forbidden cake. As sweetness diffused through her mouth, the princess felt that somehow she had fallen into a profound debt without the means to pay.
And she didn’t mean the bits left back at the castle.
It occurred to Celestia, in between the little morsels of heaven, that she hadn’t properly introduced herself to Benny. ‘Benny’ was such a peculiar name. It didn’t sound Griffonian, nor Zebrican, it didn’t even sound Draconian. Of all the years that Celestia had been on Equestria, she hadn’t heard of such a curious name. Yet… it fit. It had suited the store as much as it suited the ‘human’ that sat opposite to the princess with that ever-present smile.
“I’m—”
“—Celestia,” he cut in. He chuckled at her frown. “Oh sorry, I couldn’t resist. You are on every poster and billboard in your country, it’s hard not to know who you are.” He waved a hand nonchalantly. “But I don’t want to know Princess Celestia, I just want to know Celestia.”
Certainly an enigma begging to be solved. He wanted to know Celestia, but she hardly knew anything of him. Though it seemed that his almost philosophical introduction was an appropriate stand-in. Celestia didn’t think Benny would give a more comprehensive answer than the one already given. She pondered her next question, her brow wrinkled thoughtfully as she had done so.
Around her the soundscape continued with unfamiliar sounds and her ears twitched, trying to track the movement of those carriages, or the chatter or humans beating the pavement with their muffled footing. She smiled, realising that around her was a greater puzzle and perhaps a more accessible topic than the current predicament of deciding if Benny had told her the whole truth about himself.
Celestia set her jaw. She would learn more about this strange world.
“I’m surprised there aren’t any more ‘humans’ stopping by. I would have thought one or two of them would be curious?” Celestia let the query hang in the air, an invitation of sorts.
Benny seemed distracted. Instead of paying attention, he had lain back in his seating, basking in the rays of sunlight that occasionally broke through the shade of the trees framing the paths. Mere moments before he had been engaging in animated conversation with the alicorn, but now he drifted off. Celestia would have been more affronted if the cake hadn’t been so delectable. She tapped the table with a polite hoof.
Benny flinched and met her eyes ruefully. “Hmm? Oh! Not to worry, they aren’t real.”
“Real?” Celestia inquired, curious.
“I mean, oops, we’re not real. Not to them.” He sat up in his chair and gave Celestia a somewhat embarrassed look. “I thought to mention it, but you were enraptured at the time… It’s not often I get visitors. None that would take it as well as you have. Biscuit?”
Celestia blinked. The sudden whiplash in the conversation topic left her confused. She was also unable to comprehend how his hands suddenly held a plate of—admittedly sumptuous looking—chocolate chip cookies. Where did they come from? From the smell of it, they were freshly baked… Chocolate and butter wafted in the air. Celestia resisted their influence.
“H-How?” she asked, struggling to change the topic. The cookies could wait. She wanted to know more.
“I guess you could call it a type of magic. It’s not really, but some of us used to call it so.” His gaze drifted slightly as if focusing on something far away, then snapped back. “Have some,” he offered. “They’re fresh.”
Celestia’s hoof gingerly plucked a cookie from the platter. She set it on the plate, deciding for now that her cravings could be indulged later. She could sense there was a hidden truth. No lies, but the truth can obfuscate as much as any good deception.
She decided to be more direct with her questions.
“Are you saying that these humans are illusions?”
Benny smiled, though the warmth somewhat faded from his eyes.
“No, not illusions.” He sighed. “They’ve… lost something…”
It obviously pained the human to speak of them. Celestia couldn’t understand his explanations, but prodding him to elaborate when he’d done nothing but shown her kindness was not in her character. She wasn’t the Princess right now, she was simply Celestia. And Celestia would do the right thing, if nothing else.
Benny quickly recovered. He twitched, a rueful grin sprouting from his lips. He offered a hand, like a noble asking a mare out to dance at the ball.
“I think it is time to leave,” he announced, rising from the table. Celestia placed her hoof in his open palm. Surprisingly, the appendage was soft, like padding in a cushion. It was an addictive feeling. She caught his look and flushed. She rose from her seating a little too quickly to maintain dignity and quickly withdrew her hoof.
“Thank you, Benny,” she mumbled and the human dipped his head in response.
With a beckoning gesture, he lead the way to the mirrored doors. Celestia followed behind him, weaving through the humans on the street.
“Come, come,” he urged with that amused smile of his. “A little further and then a decision.”
“A decision?” was all Celestia was able to say, before the doors slid open and they were thrust into a new world.
Except it was not a new world. As Celestia reoriented herself, her eyes fell upon the quiet bakery within Canterlot. She looked around, trying to find something different, but the palette seemed cheerfully familiar. Relaxing slightly, Celestia trotted to the centre of the room, where Benny was fiddling with the ornate wooden box.
A little snick and the box opened. Instead of bits, as she expected, small shards of light spilled out to coalesce in his hand. The human reached into his clothes and withdrew a small orb. It was a deep black, blacker than anything Celestia had ever laid eyes on. The orb seemed to suck the light out of the room. With a slight tug, like a magnet near filings, the shards of lights tinkled into orb, sounding for all the world like the faint whisperings of a garden chime.
“What was that?” she asked, coming forward. “What did you do with that box? Where are the bits?” She couldn’t help herself, a million more queries swirled around in her thoughts.
“A fascinating mystery, don’t you think?” he teased, a playful smile dancing upon his lips. He raised a finger, as a performer would on a stage. “But only answered if you can answer this question.”
Celestia hesitated, she had a feeling that this was some sort of trap, but she couldn’t see the shape or form of it. She shook her head. Years of diplomatic experience were the tips of her hooves. She needn’t worry.
“Name your question,” she spoke confidently.
Benny grinned at her, then gently placed the box back on the simple wooden table. He glided more than walked across the room and placed a hand on the mirrored door. The door they had just gone through.
“Stay,” he offered. Then he gestured to the other doors at the far end of the room, the doors that lead to the streets of Canterlot. “Or go?”
He seemed expectant, a smile frozen to his lips. His eyes no longer bore that confident warmth that she’d seen him with during their little conversation at the café. He seemed… hopeful?
Celestia bit her lip. A world of adventure beckoned to her. A week around Equestria seemed hardly glamorous in comparison. There was everything Celestia wanted. A little mystery, an adventure, something to escape the small tediums and predictability of castle life…
Then her thoughts drifted back to Luna, her sister, struggling with the kingdom. Princess Twilight steadily growing into her role and the many ponies that depended on her and looked up to her as a constant leader. An eternal symbol to her citizens, one that would never abandon her duties… As much as she yearned otherwise, she was their Princess. She knew she couldn’t go.
But she could see it in his eyes. A faint longing it seemed they both shared. His own imperturbability was thrown to the winds. As the silence wore on, his bearing seemed less than an offer, but more of a plead. Celestia knew it was inevitable. Already her head shook from side to side. His smile wobbled uncertainly, then collapsed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, breaking that heart-wrenching silence. “I-I have a responsibility to my ponies.”
Benny sagged briefly, but then straightened. His smile was back, though it was a shadow compared to what it was before.
“I understand,” he said, and the smile grew more genuine. “I shouldn’t have– Making you choose between the two was an impossible choice.” He waved at her. “I enjoyed our time together, Celestia.”
The Princess dipped her head formally.
“It was a very pleasant meal. Your baking is almost magical,” she replied. Celestia inclined her head, the familiar aura of command shrouding her shoulders. “Farewell, Benny.”
“One moment, Celestia.”
She turned back as the human ran a finger along the countertop and stopped abruptly at a particular dessert. With a series of quick gestures, the dessert was wrapped in a box and offered with outstretched fingers. Celestia took the package gently in her telekinetic grip and smiled at the kind chef.
“To remember me by,” he murmured, giving her a quick stroke down her mane. She was so surprised by the gesture that she forgot her parting words. The human had a sordid habit of breaking her composure. Certainly, this pony wouldn’t forget the capricious creature that inhabited the Benny Bakery.
With a smile, Celestia exited the store, with box in tow.
She glanced inside and was greeted by the faint aroma of coffee. A small portion of tiramisu sat in the centre of the box, enticing as ever. The princess realised that in the short span they had shared together, she really had enjoyed his company. She felt almost… normal. She studied the store guiltily, one last time.
Celestia followed along the winding roads leading to the gates of Canterlot. The distance wasn’t especially great and the terrain wasn’t particularly arduous. Yet... Celestia felt weary, as if something heavy had draped across her shoulders and conspired to weigh her down as she struggled to make her way to the castle. Celestia was not unfamiliar with the feeling, she had felt it the moment the crown had lain upon her head. It was still there, a metaphorical weight brought forth to be physical by her disturbed psyche.
A question danced in her thoughts.
Had she done the right thing?
Of course. There was no question in that.
Had she done what she wanted?
That, she was more unsure of. For as much as she dearly loved her ponies, there had been a slight sliver of opportunity to slip away from the heavy mantle of responsibility and join an unknown creature on a mystical adventure. Something that smacked of intrigue and mystery far deeper than she had merely scratched. Her feelings had always come second. Her duty was prime. Yet, the nagging feeling caused her to feel uneasy.
Did that make her a bad pony? To wish that she could cast away her office, but for a time?
She suspected that question would stay with her for a long time.
Her inner turmoil manifested into a cocoon of brooding as she pondered her predicament. So absorbed was Celestia in her roiling thoughts, that she failed to notice the sudden gasp and clatter of hooves. Or the gathering crowd that had swarmed around her. Or the fevered whispering and laser-like gazes from her fellow ponies.
In fact, she only became aware of all of these things when she arrived at the gates of Canterlot castle. Still lugging along the tiramisu in her golden aura, Celestia stopped at the gate and turned around to face numerous, wide and unblinking eyes.
A unicorn separated himself from the crowd, edging to the forefront and stepping hesitantly forward. It seemed he were to announce their intentions, and she sensed that the crowd waited with bated breath. The stallion never lost eye-contact with Celestia. Once having locked gazes with the Princess, he held it almost brutally while he approached, only briefly breaking it to give a deep bow. Belatedly, but hastily, the rest of the crowd followed suit.
He cleared his throat.
“Princess Celestia?” he said, though his tone indicated more of a query than a statement. It carried something… unrecognisable as an undercurrent.
“Yes?” Celestia replied bemusedly.
“We’re glad to have you back!” he exclaimed, while the crowd erupted in cheers.
Celestia could only gape. She was only gone a day and such a fuss had been made in her absence. She smiled.
“It’s alright, my little pony, I haven’t been gone long,” she said, with a demure smile. “I haven’t abandoned you.”
With no small measure of public theatrics, the stallion broke down crying, shedding tears of… relief? A couple of ponies sidled up apologetically, dragging the stallion away as Celestia struggled to cool the sympathetic flush of embarrassment from her cheeks.
To say that Celestia was confused would be an understatement.
A mare off to the side gave Celestia a pleading look. “Don’t mind him, Princess. It’s been a long year without you,” she said, as the stallion was dragged off. “We didn’t know if you would ever come back.”
It took Celestia about ten seconds for the statement to sink in.
“A year?!” she spluttered, only dimly aware of the clatter of a box carrying a tiramisu hitting the ground.
—————
When Twilight entered Canterlot, she did so with skittish anticipation. The very idea of the heavy weight of responsibility for raising the sun in Celestia’s absence tied knots in her abdomen that Twilight didn’t even know she had. The whole kingdom, nay, the world would rely on her to perform her duties to the fullest. As the thought sunk in, Twilight could feel the tendrils of panic grasp at the edges of her already fractured consciousness.
It was a good thing somepony interrupted her, or she may have engaged in some histrionics. Maybe hyperventilate, or let loose a very small, strangled scream.
“Princess Twilight?”
With a visible effort, Twilight smoothed her features and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Yes?” she replied. She had made an effort to exude a calm and unflustered voice, but it came out as more of a squeak.
The stallion blinked at her, before continuing. “Princess Luna requests your audience immediately.”
The circumstances have of course been carefully explained in mail. Word after scribed word, Twilight had practically committed the communicative missive to memory with how hard she scrutinised the letter. At first she thought it was wrong. Simply wrong. PrincessCelestia hadn’t taken a vacation for… for… forever! She was so constant that she was practically Equestria herself! Then simply, almost out of the blue, Celestia had taken a short vacation and Twilight was urgently summoned to take her place. A most curious set of circumstances, of which its inherent perplexity did nothing to allay her sudden fear of taking on such a heavy mantle.
Twilight had tried to console herself with the fact that Princess Luna would be there to assist her.
The alicorn realised that she had yet to give the poor messenger his reply.
“U-Uh—“ she began, but cut herself off. “I mean, yes. Please lead the way.”
The messenger dipped his head and gestured towards the road. Of course, Twilight could have teleported to the castle, but doing so was poor manners, and there had been… incidents when she had surprised a couple of guards making their rounds. Being bodily tackled by four guards was not an experience Twilight wanted to experience again anytime soon.
The walk proceeded in silence, but Twilight noticed that passing ponies and street vendors would smile and tilt their head in acknowledgement as she passed them by. With hesitant hooves, Twilight shyly waved back. They seemed to brighten at the gesture and inexplicably Twilight felt a soft warmth slowly envelop her chest.
Strange…
Other than a short run in with a foal that collided into her without looking, the journey was uneventful and Twilight soon found herself within the main halls leading up to the throne room after passing unchallenged through the castle gates. She supposed that she was a regular now more than ever, and it wouldn’t be likely she would ever be challenged within the limits of Canterlot. Her thoughts spiralled briefly to Canterlot as her home. It had been a long time since she had walked to Canterlot as if she lived here. It was a strange feeling, a sort of detached nostalgia making her a little melancholy at the thought that it was not her home. She wouldn’t likely step through Canterlot as her home now or ever again. Ponyville was her home now.
She took a deep breath, held it for a number of seconds, and steadily exhaled.
“Okay Twilight, you can do this,” she mumbled to herself. “Just act confident, it’s only raising the sun and the moon, nothing more, nothing less.”
With straightened back, flared legs and a confident pose, Twilight stalked through the door as she was announced in.
“Presenting, Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”
Twilight entered the throne room, taking in the familiar raised dais, but the not-so-familiar image of Luna sitting astride on it. Stopping the appropriate distance away from the throne, Twilight caught herself just before she executed a bow and instead inclined her head gracefully. Evidently from the slight smile that graced Luna’s lips, her error had not gone unnoticed.
“Princess Twilight,” Luna spoke with a warm tone. “Welcome back to Canterlot. I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip.”
Twilight grinned ruefully. Luna was just as perceptive as Celestia at times.
“No,” she replied honestly. “I was nervous all the way.”
The Lunar Diarch raised an eyebrow. “What, pray tell, is it that bothers thee?”
Twilight stayed silent for a few moments as she struggled to find the words to express her emotions. The idea tumbled around in her head, but was just out of reach, lurking in the corners of her mind.
“I feel…”
“Overwhelmed?”
“Uhm…” Twilight nodded her head slowly. “Yes.”
“It’s okay to feel overwhelmed sometimes. I believe my sister felt a little overwhelmed lately.”
“Really? What could overwhelm Princess Celestia? She could handle almost everything.”
Luna cocked her head and stabbed a hoof in Twilight’s direction to emphasise the point. “That’s exactly the cause of it!” she exclaimed. “Her subjects perceive her as some infallible, unimpeachable bastion of royal power. Rarely does she get the chance to express otherwise.” A sigh. “This is why I have asked for your help, Princess Twilight. I’ve never really been the best family to my sister and I fear that she has never had a true friend. I hope she finds one on her short recess from ruling.”
“B-But we’re friends with the Princess, aren’t we?” Twilight stammered.
Luna regarded Twilight with something unfathomable reflected in her eyes.
“You can’t be friends with somepony you put on pedestal,” she said quietly. “No matter how hard one tries….”
To begin the day with a crisis and to end it with a startling revelation was something Twilight thought she would be accustomed to. In her life she had seen prophesies, old and new enemies, lost empires, new species, and a healthy assortment of thrilling adventures, one after the other. She thought she could get used to it, but the Universe seemed intent on defying her modest expectations.
“Princess?”
Luna looked up from the assortment of scrolls and parchment that piled in around the alicorn like a mountain range. Twilight gingerly made her way through the maze of textual bureaucracy, threading this way and that to get to the co-ruler of Equestria.
“Hmm?” Luna levitated a parchment to eye-height, her pupils flicking left and right as she skimmed the contents intently.
“Princess, has there been word?”
Luna picked up a quill and signed the document with a flourish, then gently set aside the parchment. She glanced at the pile of scrolls and sighed despondently. Twilight knew the pile well, there was one of almost identical size in her own room. She registered the bags under the Lunar Princess’ eyes. She looked exhausted. Twilight felt a wry smile touch her lips. She was one to talk, she must look the same.
“No…” Luna began, getting to her hooves. She winced. Twilight heard several cracks and creaks and she wondered how long Luna had been reclining on the floor like that. It could have been hours. Luna gave a delicate yawn and shook herself.
“No,” she repeated more firmly, her eyes more alert. “There hath been little of note from our investigations into her whereabouts. ’Tis a pity, mine sister would have cleared all this paperwork by noon.”
When Twilight didn’t say anything, Luna’s smile wilted.
“Perhaps a measure of levity was misplaced.”
Twilight blinked. Oh.
“Sorry,” Twilight replied. “I’m just so tired and worried that I just didn’t register the uhm… jest.”
Luna flashed a brief smile, but sifted through the documents once more.
“Nevertheless, thou hast thy duties and I hast mine own.” She glared at a nervous stallion that had just entered. With shaking legs, he dumped the contents in a new stack at the edge of a growing behemoth of paper and parchment. He glanced back quickly, then turned tail abruptly, fleeing to the door, all the while fully aware of Luna’s burning gaze upon him. Twilight thought that if Luna concentrated any harder, she might accidentally cast a spell and set the poor stallion on fire. She decided to intervene before that could happen.
“Princess, if the workload is too much, maybe you can shift some to me,” Twilight offered.
Luna hesitated, then shook her head. “Never mind,” she growled. “This is a task I wilt face alone.” She groaned as the door opened again and yet another load of papers were dumped into the pile. “I have a new-found appreciation of my sister’s patience now.” She lifted another piece of parchment and scanned the contents. “Worry not for me, dear Twilight, I will manage.” Luna growled at the next messenger as he fled the room.
Shaking her head with a chuckle, Twilight left the room confident they could manage for a while. True, it was only the fifth day, there was no need to panic. The sun hadn’t risen since the first say, but they had taken care of it without too much difficulty. Still, there was something troubling her. A sensation that persisted though she thought it would be okay… with every step Twilight took, the matter weighed down more heavily on her shoulders, and she grew less confident that Celestia would even return.
It was absurd she knew, it was just a feeling.
But it wouldn’t go away.
————
Stepping forward, Celestia hastily dismissed herself from the crowd, gently prying open the normally open gates of Canterlot Castle. Though she had expected the crowd to follow, they all stood back, watching her as she unfastened the locks on the gate and stepped onto Royal grounds. Canterlot Castle was open to the public, so it was already unusual that the gates were closed. The hinges squealed and protested when she pried the barred gating open, though Celestia was sure they were regularly oiled.
Curious more than ever, Celestia crossed the threshold, looking back to see the crowd gathered apprehensively at the edges of the grounds. She beckoned with a hoof, but they went so far as to shake their heads and gestured for her to continue. Were they expecting something from her?
Inside, the garden looked well-maintained and the fountain set to the right of the path bubbled and babbled happily at her as she passed it by. The normally ever-present Royal Guards were nowhere to be found. In lieu of them was the drawbridge instead, but it was raised, barring entry.
Mixed thoughts swirled in her mind.
Why was this so different?
Where was she?
Why did that mare tell her it had been a year?
Why did they appear uneasy around Canterlot Castle?
Surely there was an explanation?
Celestia reluctantly clamped down on a vicious maelstrom of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She focused on putting one hoof in front of the other.
Walk forwards, she thought to herself. With your head held high, your posture rigid and regal.
She lowered the drawbridge herself, though she wryly reflected that she hadn’t done so for as long as she could remember. Like the gates, the drawbridge groaned and shrieked. Celestia thought the gate shouldn’t protest so much, but she had never heard from it before, so she forgave the ancient structure this time.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” she murmured to herself, crossing the bridge and watching the steady stream of water flow through the moat. A tiny flash from the water caught her eye and she paused, looking down into the makeshift moat of Canterlot Castle. Small fishes swam against the current, pecking at the gravel and pebbles on the moat’s bed. Celestia tore her gaze away. Immediately, she was faced with another issue.
Her eyebrows drawing together as she examined the portcullis. For the very first time since she had seen the construction of the castle, the metallic gating was now down. Grim brass and steel was tarnished with age, but nevertheless held strong against the weather and time… and a tentative knock with her fore hoof. Celestia regarded the portcullis with confusion crossed with consternation.
Things around her weren’t adding up.
Was she in a different time, or a different place?
For a moment, she was tempted to turn tail and head back to the Bakery, but she held firm. There was more to investigate here, and she would find out just what she had gotten herself into. The gate opened slowly, the creaks and groans of the structure seemingly too loud to Celestia’s increasingly jittery nerves. She glanced skywards and registered that the sun was moving on its own. It was disturbing, the sight of the sun moving on its own after raising and lowering it for so long felt disjointed, like she was seeing her hoof move on its own. She shivered at the implications. Was there something terribly wrong with Equestria? She shook her head doggedly. No, perhaps it was one of the other Princesses?
A tendril of magic spread forth to touch the blazing star.
With a surprised yelp, she stumbled back.
There was no connection! It was like falling flat on her face, after expecting there to be solid ground.
She tried again, teeth gritted.
Again, she couldn’t feel anything from the star. It sat there, inert against her will.
Celestia almost made the mistake of glaring into the sun. Though perhaps warranted in the situation, the folly of doing such a thing would earn her nothing but the painful recourse of one of the few things that could match her power. So Celestia avoided looking at the sun, and decided that, if need be, she would pry some answers out of the castle itself.
The castle within did not look overtly changed. Dust had gathered, but there was little amiss that Celestia could see. Perhaps the most glaring feature was the lack of ponies inhabiting the structure. The castle was a massive affair, requiring a mass of ponies equal to its size to run and maintain. Yet… the outside had appeared normal, better than ever, it seemed. In contrast, the inside smacked of disuse, though a small effort had gone into cleaning on occasion, so Celestia wouldn’t go so far as to call it neglect.
So many ideas flittered around, but Celestia couldn’t fathom an answer to increasingly peculiar set of circumstances.
Celestia listened to the echo of her hooves striking the cold stone floors. For a long time, she hadn’t considered the castle as so chill and uninviting. There was always the flow of ponies, the slight chatter of their conversations through the halls and the breath of life circulating through the ancient body of the castle as they went through the day to day running of the behemoth. It was a startling disconnection to the familiarity and that, more than anything set her teeth on edge.
Using the faint glow of her horn to light the way, she came upon the adjunct to the throne room, the doors slightly ajar, in contrast to the closed and locked doors of the other sections of the castle. Celestia pushed forward, her pace quickened by the hope that there was something that could tell her exactly what happened here.
She opened the door and stepped through.
Small sculptures lined the receiving room. Where the guards usually stood, were delicate crystal figures held in various poses. The light filtered in through the stain glass windows, casting the figures in rainbow-hued colours. The dappled figures seemed to shine with an inner light.
There were many figures. Unicorns with hooves in a ready stance, horn lifted gracefully high. Earth ponies standing proud hooves held out as if to strike. Pegasi with wings unfurled and a proud, determined glint in their eyes.
Despite herself, Celestia paused. She felt as if she had stepped into a museum, or perhaps an ancient burial site. Who would make all this? Why was it in her castle?
What. Had. Happened?
Gingerly, Celestia made her way around the figures, heading towards the familiar double doors leading to the throne room. With a muted glow around her horn, she pushed open the doors…
Only to find the doors stuck.
A dull thud reverberated around the small chamber.
Celestia frowned but decided the opening was wide enough to just let her through. Carefully aligning herself in the gap, she squeezed herself through. Wincing slightly as her limbs contorted to force herself through the gap.
Finally, with a soft grunt, Celestia was through and again she did a double take.
Again, were the crystal sculptures, though this time they were not in random poses as were the figures in the outside reception. The models were arranged in a formal court gathering, with the guards lined up along the carpet. Celestia spotted the various castle staff, all scattered around the chamber, as if the moment had been captured and replicated in crystal.
Glancing back, she realised that there were guards too, and the door had been blocked by the regular soldiers appointed to opening and closing the throne doors. The scheduler, the announcer, the recorder, the archivist, and even a messenger were all arranged around the throne, as if partway in action. The detail and the scale of complexity of the artwork confounded her.
Somepony had gone to a great effort to replicate the throne in crystal artwork.
Yet, all that were missing was the centrepiece. The one pony that sat on the throne and directed the actions of her court. The pony that was responsible for the governing, the welfare, the health, the happiness, the lives of their subjects.
The throne was missing its ruler.
Hesitantly, Celestia made her way forward, stepping close to the throne. Her hoof reached out to touch it…
“I’m telling you, they’re overreacting!”
“Nonsense, a whole crowd swearing by it? What would be their reason for lying?”
“There’s a sizeable reward for information as to her whereabouts, do you not think that would be enough to motivate a lie?”
“Well you might have a point, but…”
“Twilight, don’t you think that your hopes might be misplaced? I don’t want to see you crushed again when you find out this is not the case.”
“Don’t you care? This is your sister!”
There was a pause.
“I-I’m sorry, Luna, that just slipped out. I d-didn’t mean to…”
A sigh filtered through the doorway.
“I’m not giving up on my sister, Twilight, I’m simply asking you to be realistic. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. I just think… Hold on, was the door to the throne room always open?”
“No… You don’t think they’ve—“
A flash lit up the room. Celestia shied away, turning around from the sudden glare.
“THIEF! THIEF! GET THY FILTHY HOOVES OFF—“
“GET OUT OF HERE, YOU—“
Luna and Twilight stopped mid-way through their demands.
Celestia turned around slowly, eyeing each of them cautiously.
It was a while until anypony even moved. Celestia was afraid to move, simply due to the fact that Luna had a menacing glow around her horn. She recognised the spell, and preferred not to be ensnared by it. To the left of Luna, Twilight had eyes so wide, Celestia was afraid that they might just pop right out of their sockets. Still, she couldn’t imagine what was going through their minds, but she figured that with their expressions, they would be just as confused and shocked as she was.
Luna was the first to break the silence.
“Twilight?”
“Huh-bwah? What?”
“I wilt giveth thee the opportunity to kick me, just this once.” Luna looked really serious about it.
“I think I need that as much as you do, Princess, because I appear to be having a hallucination—” Twilight absently rubbed her eyes “—and it’s not going away.”
Luna shook her head. “Thee art right, the visions will not pass. They appear to be shared.”
Twilight sidled closer to Luna. “Then is it real?”
They lapsed into silence at that.
“Surely not,” Luna continued. “She just stands there.”
Celestia found her voice. “I’m waiting for you to cancel the spell, Luna,” she murmured cautiously.
The glow around Luna’s horn flickered and died out.
“She spoke!” Luna gasped.
“I know!” Twilight exclaimed.
“I am, as they may say, ‘freaking out’.”
“Uhhh…” Twilight looked liked she didn’t know how to respond to that. There was an audible swallow. “You’re not Princess Celestia by any chance, are you?”
Celestia frowned. “Yes,” she answered back. “Who else would I be?”
Twilight shared a look with Luna.
“She says it’s her!” Twilight whispered urgently.
“That is impossible!” Luna shot back.
“You just saw it!”
They both turned back and stared at Celestia. At this point, Celestia was more confused than perturbed. Their behaviour was completely out of character, and more than a little off-putting. Her hooves shifted uneasily.
Twilight glanced at her hooves and smiled reassuringly.
“Will you excuse us for a moment, Princess?” she said smoothly.
“Of course, Princess Twilight,” Celestia replied. Twilight slowly backed away, with Luna reluctantly following her. A few steps towards the door and Twilight froze. She cocked her head.
“Princess?” she asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.
It was then that Celestia noticed that Twilight did not have any wings.
—————
A gentle knock had to be repeated for the third time, before Twilight mustered the concentration to put together a coherent mumble. It was only a couple of days after Celestia had disappeared, but Twilight was already exhausted from the seemingly endless demands the position of royalty requested of her.
“C-Come in,” she slurred. She didn’t know if it would carry to the door, but she hoped it would. Twilight’s bleary eyes found their target as Luna entered her chamber. The room was a temporary assignment for the duration of the week, and though was grateful for the lush bedding, satiny sheeting and the fluffed pillows, Twilight couldn’t get comfortable.
“Princess Luna,” she greeted wearily. “I’m up, I’m up.” She glanced at the window, but blinked in confusion at the first rays of dawn filtering through. Though it was her duty to raise the sun, she had completely missed the time to raise the sun!
“I hath taken care of it, dear Twilight,” Luna said gently, drawing Twilight’s eyes away from the windows. Twilight sagged with relief at the news, but stiffened as Luna continued. “I have other matters to discuss with thee.”
Twilight shook her head of the fuzziness that was creeping back. “What is it, Princess? Is there anything I can help with?”
“It is about Celestia, there hath been troubling reports.”
Twilight was now wide awake.
“Is there news of her whereabouts?” Twilight asked.
“That is the thing,” Luna remarked. “We hath little in way of a clue other than a mysterious store named ‘Benny Bakery’.”
“What does the store have to do with the report?”
Luna withdrew a scroll and passed it to Twilight to read. She continued regardless.
“According to nearby witnesses, my sister had been sighted going in… but not coming out.”
Twilight scanned the page one more time to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
“Strange, do you think that the owner of the shop is to blame for her disappearance?”
Luna shook her head. “No, at least, there hath been little evidence so far to sayest so. What we hath uncovered is this: The shop doesn’t appear to be registered with Town Hall, but there doesn’t seem to be any conflict with the planning documents.”
“Are you saying there’s magic involved?”
“It is quite plausible, I’ve yet to accede to another explanation for it.”
“Hmm. Stranger and stranger. Well, how about we get into contact with the store owner?”
“The store no longer exists.”
Twilight gaped at Luna.
“What?! How is that possible?”
Luna curled her lip in distaste. “Precisely,” she intoned, her voice was scored with the sharp edges of frustration. “The shop simply ceases to exist. We have looked around, but there is nothing but the regular shops in the area.” Luna bit her lip. “I can’t help but feel we have failed her somehow.”
Twilight drew a wing around Luna. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, just loud enough to carry between them. “We’ll find the Princess. Even if it takes days.”
Luna nodded and straightened up.
“Yes, well, forgive my momentary weakness.” Her lip stiffened with resolve. “We’ll just have to trust my sister that she will return. She won’t fail us.” With that, Luna turned abruptly and headed for the door.
“Thank you, Twilight,” she called back. “I am sorry for disrupting your sleep.”
“No problem, Princess,” she said warmly in reply. She kept her façade all the way until Luna closed the door. Then a worried frown broke out across her features.
I hope it’ll be days. I don’t know if we could take it if it were years.
—————
Celestia had watched a confused Twilight leave, leaving Celestia alone with her thoughts. The whole situation was beyond bizarre. Twilight was a unicorn! But she had already ascended! What was happening here?!
Celestia’s eyes darted around the room, but all she could see were the empty expressions of the sculpted crystal ponies around her. As the silence dragged on, she felt a measure of disquiet as the crystal structures seemed to stare at her. She knew it was impossible, but when she moved her vision, she could almost swear they moved slightly with her. Celestia wasn’t a mare that spooked easily, but they certainly made her a little uneasy.
When Twilight and Luna returned, Celestia had had enough time to compose her expression. She kept her facial features strictly impartial, but admittedly was a little relieved not to be left alone among all the strange artefacts scattered in the throne room. Celestia looked up expectantly as Twilight spoke.
“Princess, would you mind coming a bit closer? There’s something you need to see.”
Celestia stepped forward, sensing a strained undercurrent to Twilight’s tone, but not knowing what to make of it. At first hesitant, she decided that she could trust Twilight, no matter what the circumstances were between them. Her sister looked on with apprehensive eyes.
Even when she says nothing, I can tell when she is lying, Celestia mused.
It still came as a surprise when Twilight and Luna charged their horns and suddenly launched a spell, hitting Celestia broadside.
“I’m sorry, Princess!”
A brilliant flash filled Celestia’s vision with pure, all-encompassing white.
One day, after a particularly stressful morning, Celestia came upon a strange-coloured rock. What intrigued her about this rock was the fact that the Canterlot Gardens were a very well-kept affair and the rock had been laid out on the path, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was seated on the main thoroughfare for ponies wandering the premises of the Gardens.
The rock was opaque and seemed to be made of common quartz and mica, with shades of malachite green veining its surface. Though Celestia wouldn’t usually pay attention to a mysterious rock in the Gardens, she was inexplicably compelled to pick it up and set it in her chambers. Celestia had never gotten around to throwing it out, and over the years, it lay dormant among the many esoteric items that lined her bedroom shelves.
When ponies commented on the rock, Celestia would smile and tell them it was just a rock.
For some reason, nopony believed her.
A great and powerful being as Celestia surely didn’t keep such trivialities among her collection of mysterious and powerful artefacts, they reasoned. Surely the rock had some strange power.
Celestia often let the subject drop after that; ponies seemed more adamant to their beliefs when she denied them. The more she tried to convince them it was a simple rock, the more her confidants would claim to be conversant in the ‘fact’ that it was anything but. Eventually, she told them it was a mysterious rock with unknown properties, and she was safeguarding it until such time she could find out its arcane properties.
From time to time, Celestia would would catch sight of the stone and smile.
Then again, perhaps the rock did have some strange power after all?
—————
When Celestia came to, she kept her eyes closed, listening to the hushed voices whispering urgently nearby.
“Well that settles it.” Celestia recognised it was Twilight’s voice. “It’s definitely her.”
“Hmm, I doth find it hard to argue against it.”
“It’s a little off, though. As if she’s…”
“What?”
“Different. Changed. It’s subtle, almost like a friend you haven’t seen in years and it takes you a moment to recognise their face.”
“I see what thou means.” A pause. “Mayhap it is your imagination? It hath been a long time.”
Celestia heard the shuffle of hooves on tiled floor as Twilight paced, as she wont to do when she was pondering a conundrum.
“Hmm, yes.” A frustrated groan. “Well I can’t think of a better explanation so it’s probably nothing. Do you think it might have something to do with… you know that?” Celestia froze, then remembered to keep breathing. “Not even a scrap of information and suddenly she’s here acting like nothing had happened?”
“Conceivably so,” Luna replied with a tired sigh. “But now we hath little opportunity to discuss it. Time to hasten back to the castle.” There was a dry chuckle. “Mayhap this castle will be reused once again after so long.” There was the shuffle of hooves and the sound of the door creaking open. “Fare thee well, Twilight, please keep vigil over mine sister.”
“I will, Princess,” Twilight replied.
After the door shut with a click, Celestia cautiously relaxed, listening to the regular sound of her breathing. After a pause, Twilight spoke in the silence.
“I know you’re awake, Princess.”
Celestia cracked open her eyes, then blinked a couple of times with a rueful grin. “I suppose I can’t fool everypony.” She felt a pique of curiosity. “How long, and how could you tell?”
Twilight smiled. “Only during the second half of the conversation. I noticed that your breathing had changed, and that you twitched slightly when we were talking.” Her smile withered away. “A year ago, I probably wouldn’t have noticed, but since then I’ve become a lot more observant.”
Celestia pulled the sheets around her and settled into a seated position. Twilight quickly offered a hoof, but Celestia shook her head gently with a smile.
“You sound surprised that I’m speaking to you,” Celestia commented. Twilight twitched, looking away with a blush.
“Yes, well, after a year, it’s so strange watching you sleep… Not that I do that! I mean I did, b-but that was medically related—”
Celestia held up a hoof, stemming Twilight’s words. Twilight’s propensity to adorably relay some of the most awkward dialogue in the known universe cheered her up to no end. “I know what you mean,” she whispered with a teasing smile. The smile faded away as Celestia considered the ali–unicorn. “There seems to be more than meets the eye here.”
Twilight ran a hoof along the bedding and sheets, her embarrassment fading away as she marshalled her thoughts. “Do you remember anything? Would you like to tell us anything? I-I mean it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it…” Twilight trailed off, her face a mask of concern and trepidation. “We just—” Twilight’s voice cracked with emotion.
Celestia gave Twilight a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, my dear student, everything will be alright.”
Twilight nodded, tears welling.
“Thank you,” she said with sincere feeling. “Thank you for coming back.”
Celestia hid her bewilderment behind a mask of benign warmth. A tentative hoof reached out and delicately ran down the length of Twilight's mane. As she felt the many variegated strands of Twilight’s mane, she could no longer dismiss the reality that Twilight was Twilight. That this unicorn was most definitely the pony she remembered.
“I won’t leave,” she murmured soothingly. “I am here, for now.”
Celestia continued to stroke Twilight’s mane until her sobs had abated. After a few minutes, Twilight wiped away her tears and settled down. The unicorn flushed red, mortified that she had broken down so completely in front of Celestia. For her part, Celestia could sympathise with Twilight. If Twilight had gone missing for so long she would have felt just as pained. It would have been agony not knowing whether she had lived or died.
As Twilight gathered herself, Celestia became acutely aware of something. From the looks of things, this was the infirmary of Canterlot Castle, but there was something off about it.
Then it suddenly came to her. Like the rest of the castle, it was eerily quiet. Even at the slowest of times, Canterlot Castle’s infirmary was occupied by one or two souls. A couple of patients, or at least one or two staff on roster that drifted around, checking the equipment, or filling out orders on clipboards. The silence was stifling.
She caught the sound of shifting and returned her gaze to Twilight. Her face was crinkled in that recognisable expression when she was debating something profound.
“Excuse me, Princess,” Twilight said, getting up in a sudden movement.
Twilight’s face was a mask of internal struggle. Celestia held back her questions. Twilight would decide if she would tell her something important. And she had decided that Twilight was Twilight, she could trust her student, no matter how different she seemed, physical form or not.
—————
Twilight wandered to the other side of the infirmary, looking out one of the windows on the opposite side of the room. The window overlooked the part of the city that housed the markets and the shops. No doubt at this hour, ponies were conducting their business and carrying on with their lives. They were probably gossiping about the return of the Princess, but Twilight was convinced that they needed more time before anything was made more public, or official.
She had to get the facts straight.
She didn’t need to look back to know that Celestia was still following her with those eyes. Those familiar, but different eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Twilight turned around and gave her former mentor a wide smile. The alicorn sat in her bed, wearing a mask of concern. Though she suspected that there was something different about Princess Celestia, the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she spoke… all of it was familiar to Twilight. The image of Celestia was firmly fixed in her head. This pony was undoubtedly the ruler she remembered. Her physical form… her mannerisms…. But her eyes! They reflected something more. Did it change her? Is she now not who she was?
Testing was in order.
Twilight stepped closer to the bed, moving in a way that seemed to alert Celestia to her intention. Not that Twilight had been particularly focused on hiding her objective, but she marvelled at how Celestia was able to simply recognise her intent simply by the way she moved. Only somepony with a depth of familiarity on par with her kin could recognise this.
Still, the conflict was there, it had to be resolved. She had to tell Celestia what happened and compare the contradictions.
“Princess?”
Celestia’s gaze snapped to Twilight’s.
“Yes?”
Twilight grew concerned. She bit her lip, studying Celestia in a way that felt equal parts analytical as compassionate. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help it. There was something bothering her about the Princess. Something nagging at her at the back of her mind.
“I’m worried about you,” she said. “You don’t seem… yourself.”
Decision crystallised in Twilight’s hardening eyes.
Twilight took another deep breath.
“Princess. We have to talk about the day you disappeared.”
Twilight paused.
“The day everything went wrong.”
—————
Celestia subconsciously tensed. This was something that Twilight and Luna had been keeping from her. What was the secret? Why had she disappeared? Where had Twilight’s wings gone? Answers would be had.
Twilight’s eyebrows knitted together. She pulled up a nearby stood and carefully sat down. Evidently, this would take some time. Nervously, the unicorn smoothed the bedsheets at the edge of Celestia’s mattress. Celestia didn’t rush her, though her curiosity intensified with every passing moment.
Twilight cleared her throat. “It started with a small perturbation we detected in the west.”
Twilight frowned, her voice falling flat as she recited facts and figures from her memory. With a prickling sensation, Celestia recognised the report-tone that Twilight had adopted. She thought she had dispelled that when Twilight headed off to Ponyville.
“It was soon after you vanquished Nightmare Moon for the second time.” At this Twilight paused, searching Celestia’s eyes. Celestia resisted the urge to break contact. She simply nodded. Was Twilight trying to gauge if she could remember this fantastical revelation? Vanquished Nightmare Moon for the second time? Impossible. It was Twilight and her friends that had done so with the Elements. If so, to what purpose? She had already told her of the circumstances relating to her arrival…
Twilight continued, rubbing the tip of her hoof idly against the side of her bed as she recounted the events.
“Ponies from Las Pegasus reported sightings of strange lights and an unidentifiable substance gathering along the coast.” Twilight swallowed. “We didn’t know what to make of it.”
“At first, Luna ordered the cleanup as you took care of a dragon that nestled nearby. I did some research, but it yielded nothing more than a location situated almost halfway across the world.”
Twilight sighed despondently. “I didn’t recognise any of the geography, but you seemed very intent. You declared that you would go investigate the disturbance on your own.”
Celestia frowned. That didn’t sound like something she would do. Going alone was foolhardy and risky in the extreme. She never left anywhere without a contingent of guards.
“Why alone?” Celestia queried. “Did I not take anypony?”
Twilight shook her head and shrugged helplessly. “Nopony knew what to say. You had that kind of effect on everypony. Your decisions were direct and brooked no argument. Of course, some protested, but you quickly convinced them it was the right thing to do. You were always one to take charge and face the danger.” Twilight smiled. “Though fierce as you were reported to be in combat, you always had that inner radiance. A Princess that was a proud protector of Equestria’s citizens.”
Fierce? Combat? The terms seemed so divorced from her regular temperament that Celestia had trouble reconciling the words in her mind. But wait, Twilight said she just up and left…
“I just left this—my kingdom… behind?”
Again Twilight shrugged. “You were always travelling. Sometimes you would leave for a couple of weeks to solve some problem, but eventually you be back.”
“What of the kingdom? Who governs while I’m away?”
Twilight blushed. “Well I would take care of the administration duties, like you trained me to. Luna would have the authority to enforce things.” Twilight made that self-deprecating shrug once more. “I’ve always considered it an honour that you would give me such a high responsibility. Some had told me it was irresponsible of you, but I know better, you trusted me to handle things in lieu of your absence.” Twilight’s cheeks flushed with pride. “I couldn’t ask for a more rewarding job.”
Celestia could no longer hide the shock. At first, she thought that the sequence of events she relayed had to be some sort of test, a diversion. As Twilight recounted the events, it became clear that Twilight was telling the truth… or that she truly believed what she was saying. If what she said was true, then this place was not just a different time, but a different world. And everything about this world was different. From her actions, to Twilight, to even world-changing events. This was like some alternate timeline.
A world in which I had disappeared and made different decisions.
“Princess?”
Celestia’s eyes widened. Benny had taken her through a portal that ended up in a different world. A different reality. Conceivably, he had left her here, against her wishes. Why though? It seemed completely out of character for Benny. One thing was for sure though, if she wanted to get back she’d have to find him. And she would also get some answers.
Celestia turned to Twilight. A Twilight from another world. Could she trust Twilight? She tried to rationalise the pros and cons of trusting Twilight, then she stopped herself and almost laughed. Trust wasn’t something reasoned, it was an impulsive feeling. Besides, she had made up her mind long ago, why did she hesitate now?
“Twilight, do you trust me?” Celestia asked.
Her answer was immediate.
“Of course, Princess.”
Celestia closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound and her muscles tensing. She took a deep breath, then consciously relaxed herself, opening her eyes again. Twilight saw the action, but before she could voice her concerns, Celestia continued.
“Listen to what I’m about to tell you. This will sound crazy at first, but you must believe me.”
—————
When Celestia finished, she looked up.
“Twilight, you are in danger of swallowing an overly-curious insect,” Celestia remarked humorously.
With a belated snap, Twilight shut her jaw.
“But, that doesn’t make sense.” Twilight got up. She shook her head. “It doesn’t add up.”
“What doesn’t add up?” Celestia asked gently.
“Just the mechanics of it. A creature called a ‘human’ somehow transported you to an alternate timeline? Twilight bit her lip. “I’m trying to believe you, but I can’t.” She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Princess.” Twilight cringed, as if she was expecting a sharp reprimand.
Celestia nodded, but heaved a sigh. She felt a small sting of disappointment, but that soon faded. She couldn’t expect Twilight to place that much faith in that explanation without some shred of evidence… but it would have been nice.
“Don’t be,” Celestia said. “We just have to find that shop and then I can prove it to you.”
Twilight looked skeptical, but she visibly repressed it, and finally nodded acquiescence.
“Okay, Princess, but might I suggest something?”
Celestia inclined her head.
Twilight gestured to the pillow. “Please get some rest. There’s much to do, but a night’s rest won’t hurt, right?”
Celestia nodded, seeing the logic in that statement.
“Okay, one night.”
—————
As Twilight exited the room, Celestia cast her mind back, trying to compare the differences between her universe’s Twilight and this one’s. She had trouble imagining Twilight without her wings. Celestia had found that she had inadvertently reverted to speaking to her as a mentor to her student, rather than as equals, from one princess to another. She guessed that the image of Twilight as a unicorn—and as her student—was too strong to disassociate.
Celestia sighed. Despite reasoning that the reality that she currently inhabited was definitely not her own, she still had doubts about motivations. What did Benny have to gain by placing her here? Why this universe?
“Psst.”
Celestia whipped her head around, trying to find the source of the noise.
“Psst.”
Celestia peered into the shadows, her eyes trying to resolve the indistinct shape sticking around a supporting column. She narrowed her eyes. The shape looked awfully familiar...
A shadow detached itself from the stonework.
“Hello again!”
It was Benny.
———————
With a rush, Celestia clambered out of her bed and scrambled towards the human.
“You!” she hissed. She quickly sifted through her mental library of spells, her horn glowing in sympathy. She tossed between Convoluted Vortex or Ravaging Inferno. Celestia glared at Benny, striding forward with purposeful steps. Depending on his answer, she decided, it could be both.
Benny seemed unfazed but her glowering demeanour. If anything, he seemed happier than ever.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Very nice.”
Celestia tensed as Benny drew out something from behind himself. Her horn glowed in ready warning. He carried a small package... and her jaw dropped.
“You forgot this,” Benny said, placing the box of tiramisu at her hooves. He rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Even though it was your choice, I feel like this is the best way to make an apology.”
“Apology?!” Celestia snapped at him. She took a deep breath and reined in her temper a little. It wouldn’t do for a Princess to lose her head. “Also my choice? I chose to stay with Equestria.”
Benny nodded. “That you did.” He mumbled something indistinguishable and flicked his hand in dismissal. With a sigh, he leaned against the pillar. “I’m sorry, I knew we shouldn’t have met so soon, but I was getting antsy with waiting.”
Celestia pursed her lips. Not only was Benny being confusing, he was clearly hiding something that he knew about this whole debacle. Never mind his attitude, she had to get back to her own universe.
“You have a lot of explaining to do!” she growled in a dangerously low voice. “I don’t know where I am, or how to get back. As far as I’m concerned, you were the one who left me here. Take me back to where I belong!”
Benny had that strange look again, the same sort of faraway gaze he held when they visited that strange café on a distant world. His eyes snapped back to hers.
“Who is to say that this isn’t the place you belong?” he finally answered.
Celestia gaped at the audacity of his reply. “I do!” she shot back. “A whole nation needs me! I have my duties.”
Again the human drifted off, and that action made Celestia more furious than if he was actively antagonising her. How could he be so callous? It was like talking to a whole different being. Nothing like the human she had met less than a day ago.
Benny finally seemed to notice her souring mood. He held up placating hands.
“I understand, Celestia, but—”
Celestia wouldn’t have any of it. “Understand? What do you know of duties? Of responsibility? How can you know what it’s like to have countless lives depend on you? I’ll make this clear. Take. Me. Back.”
Surprisingly, that seemed to hit a nerve. The human recoiled as if she had physically struck him. “Responsibility? Duty? Do you?” Benny snarled back. No longer was there a pleasant tone to his reply. It was as if he stripped back a cloak of polite respect, to reveal an uglier entity underneath. “Look around! Time has moved on without you! You’re an old relic! No one needs you now! An empty castle, a vacant throne, a paper princess!”
In the ensuing silence, Benny covered his mouth quickly, as if he could snatch back those words. He cringed, as if he regretted it. Whether it be the tone or the words, Celestia wasn’t sure… but they both cut her deeply.
For several long moments she glared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rail at him. She wanted to tell the foolish creature that he knew nothing. Nothing of her and her unfathomable existence. Instead, the princess stayed silent. First, she had to get ahold of her emotions.
It was Benny who broke the silence first. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That came out wrong.” Celestia glanced up as Benny wiped a hand across his face.
“I-I need to go,” he continued. “And I shouldn’t have come in the first place.” He turned around as if to leave.
Celestia stepped forward, wanting to check his retreat.
“Stop! I—” she commanded. He was not going to leave just like that.
But as he stepped behind the pillar, he disappeared, with only the shadow of the pillar behind to mock her.
Her eyes raked the room, as if doing so would suddenly reveal him. When there was neither hide nor hair of him that she could find, Celestia let out a very small, controlled, strangled, scream.
The furious alicorn searched a little longer, but it became evident that he was no longer there. Intuitively, she knew he was gone, but the action of searching for him was more to let off some steam, rather than a productive means to an end. Throughout the time she spent fruitlessly combing the room, aggrieved thoughts percolated within her mind.
That infuriating human had left me again!
And,
How dare he presume those things?!
Eventually, slowly, she slumped to the floor. Her thoughts felt sluggish, and her heart felt torn. Much as she wanted to deny his hurtful words, some held a sliver of truth. In this land, where even she had taken a more active role in its destiny, her little ponies had managed to move on without her governance. Was she an accessory? Was she just a convenience to the throne?
She shook her head in savage denial. No, she couldn’t be. Benny was trying to get into her head, trying to maliciously twist her thoughts.
The human had made his intentions clear. He was not her friend. He was not to be trusted. Somehow, she would have to find her own way back. She would have to use everything at her disposal. Her magic, this universe’s inhabitants and most importantly her mind.
But even as she formulated a plan to make use of the situation, she was troubled with the ease Benny had displayed in unsettling her. Though ultimately unsuccessful, Benny didn’t seem like he had intentionally done so…
Perhaps he had a reason?
No. Her own intentions had been clear from the start. She had explicitly told him that she was to return to Equestria. That she had her duties. He had no right to bring her here. What he did transgressed the bounds of their tentative friendship. He had a chance to explain himself, and instead he had attacked her, driving a rare shard of pain into what she thought was an iron heart.
Celestia picked herself up, eventually settling herself into the soft sheets of the infirmary’s bed. Though she wished mightily to act on her impulses. To go out and find Benny and possibly strangle the means to get back out of him, she knew that the time was better spent in tackling it in the day. This universe's Twilight and Luna might even help her, she was sure of it. Slowly, she closed her eyes, for once permitting herself a moment of weakness before she would harden her resolve. Fractured images of her beloved Canterlot flashed through her mind. But it was not the buildings or the landscape that she recalled. Images of dedicated staff, nostalgic memories of her friends… family. Ponies that relied on her, ponies that would miss her if she suddenly disappeared. Celestia could only remember a hooful of times that she had shed tears.
A moment of weakness, she told herself. One moment before I face the morning. Before I succumbed to sleep.
It was worth noting that there were not many that could disturb a mind such as hers. To do so they would require an experience of some equivalence to hers. That was impossible, though. Hers was a mind made unique.
A mind almost as ancient as the city she dreamt of.
It was a subconscious thing, to gauge the time and to know the moment when the sun would need to be lifted from its slumbering position over the horizon. In actuality, the sun’s journey was a constant motion that required only the faint boost of her magic. Most of the ‘effort’ of lifting the sun she showed during the Summer Sun Celebration was for tradition rather than execution.
Even the glow around her horn was exaggerated.
In her half-drowsy state, Celestia registered a faint resistance to her magical tug on the giant orb and she awoke with a start.
Panicking for a moment, she tugged at the sun harder until it suddenly let go. Surprised, she let the sun travel halfway across the sky before it was suddenly arrested by some unknown force and it sank below the horizon.
That day, Equestria’s sun dawned twice.
“Princess!”
There was a muffled sound behind the door to the infirmary, and the doors suddenly burst open, admitting a puffing Twilight.
Celestia stared at Twilight as she doubled over from the combined effort of letting her know in the span of a few seconds and also rushing all the way from the other side of the castle. The unicorn wasn’t the most fittest of ponies, but surely she would teleport most of the way?
“Teleport?! No, no, no! That spell is much too advanced for me!” Twilight exclaimed, eyes wide.
Celestia realised that she had been thinking out loud. She put aside the feeling of disconnect she felt whenever the facts didn’t align. Twilight took a couple of deep breaths, trying unsuccessfully to bring her excited state to something manageable.
“Princess, would you like some food?” Twilight asked, after composing herself.
Celestia realised that she was hungry, inadvertently her gaze shifted to the tiramisu that sat on the table. Twilight followed and started.
“Princess, where did that come from?”
Though Celestia would share anything with her former student, for some reason she hesitated. Telling Twilight about Benny’s visit would stress Twilight, and her own temper wasn’t exactly in check when she thought about the infuriating human.
Trapping her here without so much as an explanation!
He spoke as if, as if she weren’t Celestia at all, like she was…
This world’s Celestia.
“Princess? What’s wrong?”
Celestia made an effort to smooth her expression.
“Nothing,” she said a little more quickly than she liked. “Just a passing thought.”
Twilight studied Celestia in the ensuing silence.
“Princess, I’ve been thinking….” Twilight paused, her brow wrinkling with the difficulty of arranging her chaotic thoughts. “About what you said to me yesterday.”
Celestia took a deep breath and tilted her head humorously. “Where I’m from an alternate universe?”
Twilight nodded slowly. “I still don’t believe it,” she said with brusque bluntness. “I-I mean it’s not that I don’t believe you personally, I just think that there are more plausible explanations…”
Celestia shook her head. “Is it so hard to believe?”
Twilight shook her head. “It’s not expressively forbidden in the theory I’ve read. I just think… could somepony cast a spell on you? Maybe you remember something of before?”
“No,” Celestia replied. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything of that because I’m not the Celestia you know.”
Twilight nodded slowly. Then she perked up.
“Luna is expecting you!” she said suddenly. “I still haven’t told her about… what you’ve told me. I’m flattered that you could confide so much in me.”
Celestia nodded genially.
“Maybe, my sister will have a more open mind.”
—————
Luna spat her hay flakes all over the table.
“W-What?” she spluttered, trying hastily to wipe the mess on the table and her mouth.
Celestia tried to hold back a giggle, but failed to do so.
“A fantastical tale!” Luna continued, after dabbing away most of the milk.
Celestia ran a hoof along the table in the Recessive Room. The small room was named so due to its unassuming appearance and unobtrusive entrance. Celestia had always loved to eat in this part of the castle. The sounds of rushing messengers, murmuring bureaucrats, and prim nobles did not make it far to the centrally isolated chamber of the Recessive Room. Apparently, this universe’s Celestia also liked this room, because Luna had already taken a seat in the room and food had already been prepared.
The first thing that Luna did when Celestia came in was bow to her.
Surprised and taken aback, Celestia couldn’t help but sweep up her sister in a warm hug. Though she knew in her head that this Luna was not her Luna, her heart felt filled with warm ichor.
“Luna, I miss you already,” Celestia mumbled into her sister’s mane.
A speculative pause followed. “Sister, though I do enjoy such ministrations, it doth seem out of character,” Luna replied. “It is most unlike you to be so…”
Celestia eyed the pancakes on the table, the delicious scent of walnuts, hazel and cream with syrup wafting over. They knew her weakness, and she sat at the table, taking small, measured bites out of her food, though she had the urge to devour it all. Celestia hadn’t realised how hungry she was until she smelt the food. Truly, confectionaries were a terrifying thing.
In between bites, Celestia relayed to her sister the circumstances surrounding her unusual arrival. When she got to travelling between worlds, that was when Luna couldn’t keep the hay flakes in her mouth.
“B-But we hath not heard of such a thing! How would it be possible?”
Though Twilight didn’t say anything, or even move to indicate a partiality to the conversation, her eyes told the story of which side she believed in. It made Celestia feel a little alone, but she could not fault the closest ponies to her heart.
“Luna,” Celestia began uncertainly. “Do you believe me?”
Luna hesitated, but then shook her head. “I have faith in thee, sister. I just couldn’t conceive of its likelihood.”
Celestia nodded, disheartened by the fact that both were in opposition to her narrative, but strangely bolstered by her relief in imparting it.
“I am stuck here,” Celestia said, “but at least there are ponies I know and cake to partake.”
Luna considered the statement, her expression brightening as she considered the implications.
“So you’ll be staying?”
Celestia dipped her head in agreement. There wasn’t much choice to the decision, mind, but the action seemed to ring true to her heart. If she were to stay in this similar-but-different land, it would be best to play along. At least until she could find her own way back… or find Benny. With this world’s Celestia missing, she felt as if she should help, since they have been so kind to her. It was getting hard to differentiate between the two worlds. The differences were both subtle and blaring, and they constantly surprised her.
Maybe this world will have something more interesting than her own world by way of governance or royal duties?
“That’s wonderful, sister,” Luna continued. “Shall we hold Court? I think it best to ease you back into your duties.”
Celestia sighed.
Day Court, full of bickering nobles and taxation problems.
Then again, some things never changed.
————
Benny was furious.
Though the simple room was made of brick and mortar, the walls barely echoed his agitated steps, the sounds instead replying with muted intensity as he circled the room. His hands flexed as he paced, as if to take ahold of something and strangle it to death.
“I didn’t know this world’s Celestia would be so… prickly,” he said to himself. If the chamber showed surprise to hear its Master’s voice after so long, it gave no indication of such. If the chamber had a voice to speak, it would probably be some ineffectual sound of surprise.
“I don’t get it, she was so receptive before, and now… well this one’s one was always headstrong, nothing like….” He flicked a hand. “She made her choice, and her, her own. I was just visiting!”
The wall figuratively sighed. Usually, none would take notice, but Benny was keen to these sorts of things. He heard the personification of the wall reaching out and apologised to it with a wave of his hand.
“Sorry!” he said. “Mystifying, mysterious, mind-boggling!”
He sighed, flopping into an unassuming lounge in the corner. The lounge was something that would not look out of place in Rome. The lounge was housed among the bricks and mortar that covered one side of the room, a mismatched titanium door that was embedded in the other, and neighbouring a variety of strange paraphernalia that wouldn’t look out of place in antique shop mated with an electronics store. It looked no more out of place, than in.
Benny shifted his focus to a simple mirror that adorned the wall. It could be loosely described as Venetian in design. Though the mirror had gold paint applied liberally on the frame, the effect of its magnanimity was rather spoiled by the tacky depictions of fantastical creations that were fixed onto the edges. Benny made a helpless gesture at the mirror, but the mirror neither could respond, or chose not to.
With a more impertinent gesture, the mirror reluctantly shimmered and revealed was an image of a simple cake shop, situated in a familiar part of Canterlot.
“I guess I should see if she’s settled in.”
He headed to the door and reached out with a hand. The hand paused at the door.
Something had caught his eye.
Benny glanced down at a row of simple Nixie tubes that jutted from the dresser underneath the mirror. The lights glowed, shedding warm neon light from the flickering displays. On another occasion, Benny would admire the homely feel of those tubes, but at the moment, he was more preoccupied with what was displayed.
“Oh this is bad,” he mumbled to himself. “Really bad.”
There are many things Benny could be accused of, but subtlety was not one of those things.
—————
In all the years that Celestia had lived, nothing could prepare her for an assault of this magnitude.
“Princess! There are monsters lurking in the Everfree, I think some have migrated to White Tail Woods!”
“Princess! There’s an incursion of dragons on the Eastern border! They intend to make the same demands as before.”
“Princess! There’s been movement in the North, should we go investigate?”
“Princess! I have a problem with the division of boundaries between lands.”
Celestia opened her mouth and closed it again, did they expect her to do all at once?
Luckily, Luna was there to lend some assistance.
“I will deal with the fouling incursion, fret not. Monsters in the forests are of no accord. Send a party to the North.”
Celestia nodded, impressed that Luna had taken on so many duties. She flushed, thinking that Luna was so much more capable than she gave her credit for. A shard of guilt lodged itself in her heart. Perhaps it was because she never gave her own sister a chance? She stiffened. As soon as she got back, amendments were to be made.
Luna glanced up at Celestia.
“Would you like to rule on the last petition?”
Celestia nodded.
“Why don’t we talk and work it out?” she said gently, falling back into her role easily.
The two ponies, glanced at each other uneasily.
“Princess… we merely came so that you may grant us a request?”
Celestia was confused, but didn’t let it show.
“And that would be?”
The one on the left, who had been silent until now, coughed politely.
“The Arena, of course.”
The one on the right nodded easily. “Yes, the Arena.”
Celestia glanced at Luna who nodded in encouragement. Well, it seemed like the right move.
“Granted,” Celestia said slowly.
Both bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Princess,” they said in unison, then left.
As the doors closed, Celestia sat back.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” she said more to herself than Luna.
“I’m glad, sister, that thee hath decided to grant them the Arena,” Luna remarked.
Celestia straightened. “Yes, by the way, what is the Arena?”
“Surely thou knowest of the Arena, sister,” Luna said. “You hath seemed sure of yourself.”
Celestia shook her head mutely.
“What is the Arena?” she repeated.
Luna grinned. “I expect there shall be a fight.”
“W-What?” Celestia said. “L-Luna?”
Luna gave her sister a quizzical look.
“Surely you remember the purpose of the Arena? Thou hadst created it thyself.”
“Remind me,” Celestia said her voice faltering over the last word.
“Why the first to best thee in a fair fight will earn the right of a favour,” Luna explained with a proud grin. “Though none hath ever beaten thee in combat. I am sure you will prevail.”
Luna skipped forward, oblivious to the growing panic etched across her sister’s face.
“Oh this is bad,” Celestia muttered to herself. “Really bad.”
There was a rumble in the audience, a tense anticipation that filled the air with frightful expectations. Eyes in the stands were all trained on the lone figure standing at the centre of the stone-tile stage. Though she was dressed in fairly elaborate jewellery, her stance bespoke calm and regal grace. There was no doubt in anypony’s mind that the figure standing proudly was Princess Celestia, the ruler of Equestria, among many other titles.
Princess Celestia outwardly exuded poise and forbearance, but to those who could be standing three feet away, they would notice a slight tremor in her left fore hoof. It was a nervous tic that she never could quite master in combat situations. Some would say it would be a small matter, but it had Celestia’s full concentration.
Celestia was trying very hard not to let her mind dwell on the upcoming fight.
—————
“What are the rules?” Celestia asked, trying to get a hold on a situation that seemed to be spiralling out of her grasp.
Luna laughed. Her voice carrying a pleasant lilting tone that Celestia was finding hard to appreciate, given the asperity at her expense.
“Rules?” Luna snorted. “There are no rules, sister.”
“But what if somepony gets hurt?”
Luna blinked. “You worry too much. Nothing too serious happens. I’m of the opinion that the Arena is too light sometimes.”
—————
Celestia shook her head.
Concentrate, she told herself. She took measured breaths. Ever since Chrysalis had caught her off-guard Celestia had been dedicating some time in the night to have Luna teach her the ins and out of magical and physical combat. In terms of technique, Celestia was confident that she could best Luna in a magical tournament, but there were some things that Luna excelled at. Combat was definitely one of them.
When the bugling of the horns resounded across the field, Celestia glanced up at the prominent box that held only a few seats. She was glad to see Twilight and Luna there, but strangely, she couldn’t spot Prince Blueblood. She wondered where her recalcitrant nephew would be hiding.
The glint of burnished steel caught her eye. Now that she got a closer look at the two she realised that the way that they moved bespoke a deep bond between them. On her left, a white-coated filly took a position just at the 10 o’clock position. On the right, the grey-coated stallion grimly took his position at 2 o’clock. From the way they both faced her, it looked like they intended to work together to bring her down.
Celestia could feel her stomach tie itself into knots. She never liked fighting, and she knew that self-defence was necessary, but raising a hoof against her little ponies seemed like a contravention to the oath she swore when she took her throne. An oath to guide and protect her little ponies throughout the ages.
A court-appointed scribe made his way to the centre of the stage. He adjusted his glasses and made eye contact with each of the participants. The crowd, just moments before in a rabbling rumble, quieted down to barely a whisper. Celestia could almost feel the press of excitement and anticipation.
“Are you ready?” the scribe asked, scribbling something down on his ever-present notepad.
“Ready,” the stallion grated.
“Ready,” the filly called out.
Celestia took yet another deep breath to erase her pent-up nerves.
“Ready,” she responded in a clear voice.
The scribe nodded and stepped back to the edge of the platform. It was a raised court, a square with white lined edges. There were no rules, but participants were expected to keep within the court.
“When I give the signal, you may engage,” the scribe continued calmly.
Celestia refocused on the pair. She mentally selected her first move, visualising the series of requirements for casting. She flicked through her mental library of spells and selected one, calculating the finer details silently.
“Three,” the scribe called out.
Celestia watched the stallion tense. He was probably going for some sort of physical blow. She angled herself slightly to receive him. Hoof to hoof was quicker than casting.
“Two.”
The filly’s horn glowed an ominous blue. Celestia noted that it matched her streaked aquamarine mane. She looked like she was going to prepare an offensive spell. If that was the case she would have a little time to deal with her.
“One.”
By now, Celestia had her actions planned down to the sixth move.
“BEGIN!”
The stallion on the right was rooted on the spot, but the filly propelled herself, darting forward so quickly that Celestia almost failed to avoid the first thrust of her twisting buck.
Too late, Celestia realised she had been fooled. The stallion had cast an illusion spell to hide their true identities, swapping their identities of unicorn and earth pony. With a blinding flash, Celestia bought herself a few moments with a sorcerous rendition of a spotlight. Unprepared, the duo blinked and found that the court was empty.
Celestia hovered above them, her wings beating powerfully as she gained altitude. The stallion called out as he realised their error, but not before Celestia had shot off two powerful bolts of purely magical charge.
The filly dodged both shots and came up on the other side. Then she flew.
Surprised, Celestia sheared to the left as the filly rocketed towards her. She could see the determination rooted deep within her eyes. These weren’t the eyes of a pony that wanted to win a friendly sporting match. This was a filly that thirsted for a victory.
To win in battle.
A hoof darted towards her head, Celestia narrowly dodged it and countered the movement reflexively, pounding her opponent with two strikes at the weak spots Luna had pointed out. The middle of the chest and the lower abdomen. She watched as the filly’s eyes bulged out, her breath leaving in a wheeze.
That’s when Celestia made a mistake.
Seeing the obvious harm she was inflicting, Celestia hesitated for a brief moment.
The unicorn saw his chance, and loosed a powerful bolt. Celestia felt a searing pain in left wing. The beam sheared at the tips. Not enough to cause injury, but enough to stop her from flying. Celestia fell, feeling the sickening lurch as she fought against gravity in free fall. With a jerk, she corrected her tumble, wincing as feathers and her injured wing tried to catch air. She landed in a sprawl near the edge of the Arena.
Just in time she saw the pegasus dive down with hooves outstretched. With widening eyes, Celestia rolled to avoid the treacherous blow.
*CRACK*
Stone underneath the pegasus splintered and Celestia shielded her eyes. Something within her screamed that she had to move, move, move! Against the growing pain in her wing and the dazed shock from landing, Celestia scrabbled to the side just as another bolt from the unicorn came tearing by. Staggering, she glanced back, worried about the crowd’s safety.
For the first time, Celestia noticed that the first few rows were empty.
Now she knew why.
The bolt crashed into the empty seats, dissipating harmlessly into the stone. Anypony there would have been hurt by the blast.
Celestia eyed her opponents warily, studying them properly. The two worked well together. They never missed a beat in their carefully coordinated attack. With a grunt, Celestia realised that she had to dispel her reservations about fighting and start engaging these two seriously.
Seeing her falter on her hooves, the unicorn fired more bolts, and Celestia hastily threw up a shield to block them. Her defences were all but shredded by his powerful conjurations. Celestia had to admire the handle on power that the unicorn possessed. He could pose a great difficulty. Likewise, the pegasus had spiralled around and flittered just above the unicorn, ready the counter any surprise moves Celestia had.
She needed to think of something outside the box…
Wait.
There was something Twilight had told her…
Teleport?! No, no, no! That spell is much too advanced for me!
With a savage grin, Celestia blinked out of existence.
She reappeared next to the startled stallion. Quickly, before he could react, she touched horns with him, sending a spark down between them on contact.
Hearing a whistling sound, Celestia quickly leaped back just in time as the pegasus landed between them, wings flared protectively.
She had her eyes trained on Celestia, but she spoke, addressing her partner.
“You alright?!”
The stallion, a little dazed, shook his head.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think.”
The pegasus glanced back only briefly.
“Okay, you better hit the Princess with what you’ve got. She doesn’t seem to be as aggressive, but she’s still a mean fighter.”
His horn glowed once more. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “This’ll be a kicker.”
Celestia almost didn’t hear the exchange. Her teeth had gritted together, while she concentrated on her spell. Around herself she erected a powerful shield. The spell for the shield was called the Welcome Ward. Named so because of its nature in incorporating the spellcaster’s energy and using it to strengthen itself. Usually, it wouldn’t be very effective unless you get a sample of your opponent’s magical resonance, but Celestia had taken a generous sample. It shimmered, just seeable in the visible spectrum.
The pegasus darted forward, explosively leaping forward. Celestia recognised the distraction, sidestepping neatly to avoid her attack and twisting away from the magical bolt.
But instead of crashing into the stands behind her, the bolt curved around and followed her. Celestia’s surprise at the unexpected maneuver prompted a triumphant grin from the unicorn.
It was soon wiped away, however, when the bolt was merely absorbed into the spell matrix. Seeing the bolt fail, the pegasus tried a last-ditch manoeuvre to catch her out, but Celestia closed her eyes, bringing them both together with a complex binding spell. Her horn flared with the intricate conjuration of Sunrise. The spell was an original one created by the diarch herself, incorporating the power of the sun into its very essence. Above, an almost Daedalian circle inscribed itself in the atmosphere, layer upon layer stacking on top of each other. Each circle glimmered with power, focusing the intensity of the sun’s rays into a single point on Celestia.
Her horn was white hot with the violence of what seemed like the star itself ignited in the air around them. Flames burned at the edges, sweeping forth in the geometric circle prescribed by the spell. The crowd, only moments before ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ at each blow, had fallen silent.
The pair couldn’t bear to look at her, so bright was her casting.
They shivered, acknowledging her absolute power.
It was an irrefutable fact.
It was like seeing the sun, feeling its heat, and knowing its power.
“Yield!” they both cried in the silence. “Yield!”
Celestia sighed in relief, extinguishing the spell. Though the light of the full noon was upon them, the sudden cessation of illuminance from her brilliant horn made the day feel like night. Celestia undid her binding spells, slowly setting down the two ponies and stepping away from them as they collected themselves wearily.
Around her was the shocked stillness of an awed assembly that saw what they truly had not expected to see.
It started with a stomp, then a mild clatter, and then grew as the crowd’s cheering roar was added into the applause. The scribe, who had been struck speechless by the magnitude of what he had just witnessed, forgot to signal the bugler to herald the end of the match. He hurriedly waved as Celestia looked around her in surprise.
“Princess Celestia is once again victorious!” the scribe announced.
At the sound of the bugle the cheering died down as they listened to the traditional ending to the match.
The stallion and the filly brought themselves to a bow in front of her.
As one they spoke.
“We retract our challenge, Princess.”
The pair turned tail and began to exit the platform, drooping with thinly-concealed disappointment as they did so. Celestia called out to them before they could leave.
“Wait!” she cried. They paused, turning around curiously.
“What was your request?” Celestia stated.
The stallion gave her a humourless smile. “As it has been on the last three occasions when we have clashed.” He seemed to lose heart, and fell glumly silent.
“We wanted to become your personal guard,” the filly finished for him.
“I don’t have one?” Celestia blurted in surprise. At least on her world she had quite an extensive retinue of personal guards.
The filly looked confused. “You told us you never needed one. You told us that the first ponies that could beat you in a fight, no matter the number, could be your personal guard.”
“Of course, nopony was able to beat you, Princess,” the stallion said. He didn’t sound sarcastic, just defeated. “This was the first time you’ve used magic so extensively in combat. You’ve always excelled in hoof to hoof, but this time you used purely magic.” He shook his head in wonder. “Nopony would even come close to your abilities.”
Celestia straightened at that. Powerful though she may be, she was still mortal to damage. The dull throb of her wing seemed to attest to that.
“Be that as it may, I will be in need of a personal guard. You have shown exceptional teamwork and courage,” she announced, surprising them. “I recognise your mettle. State your names, my little ponies.”
The filly stepped forward. “Flitter, Princess!”
The stallion stepped forward. “Shade, Princess.”
“Flitter and Shade, you are now the first Captain of the Celestial Guard.” She wondered if Shining Armor would mind. She shook her head. Time for that later.
Flitter and Shade glanced at each other.
“We’re both the Captain?” they asked, then blushed at their synchrony.
Celestia couldn’t help but give a light chuckle. “Yes, you’ve both shown that you can work exceptionally well together. I expect great things from you two. Report to the Castle tomorrow.”
Flitter and Shade bowed low once more.
“Thank you, my Princess!” they exclaimed. Picking up on the announcement, the crowd took it as a signal to begin anew, the Arena filled with the crying support of the local populace. Luna glided down from the box, greeting her sister with a wide grin.
“Well done,” she cried. “Such unorthodox methods, but certainly effective! You hath demonstrated a great capacity for clemency that was almost unheard of. I suspected that they would hath suffered your ire after injuring your wing, but they’ve barely escaped without a scratch.” Luna shook her head. “And that spell! It was as if you were the sun itself! What hath you been up to, sister? Such advanced workings beyond anything I’ve seen!”
“Ah, you mean Sunrise?” Celestia answered through a tired smile. “I’m glad I didn’t have to use it.”
Luna cocked her head.
“Why ever not?” she queried, her curiosity piqued.
Some locations in the multiverse are very accommodating. Some are famously treacherous. Some are little known havens for the relaxing traveller. In one recess of the twists and turns of time and space, a small island houses a curious being. The island was somewhat of a misnomer, the floating piece of rock neither surrounded by water nor even air. Yet, on this frigid little rock, is life. Life being a loose definition in this paradoxical reality.
Discord sat on his chair carved from the rock candy of Mente Mentos, which he found oddly comforting to his back that ached of late. You see, he had found that a twinge would develop when something was off about a certain reality he was fond of. Absently, he shifted on his luxurious trappings, trying to squash the persistent pricking pain with cotton candy ear muffs wedged in his floppy ears. For a moment, it seemed to be successful. He settled in again, a pleasant smile returning to his features…
“Ow!”
The draconequus bolted upright, his face a picture of bloody retribution.
“What the—”
Discord frowned, his eyes searching the air in front of him as if the mysterious assailant would reveal itself. Of course that would be impossible, the pain being metaphysical and all.
A sudden thought struck him.
“Somepony messed up,” he growled. His claw clicked impatiently on his seating. He considered ignoring the warning and going back to sleep, but a niggling thought at the back of his mind prompted him of a particular kind pegasus inhabiting his favourite dimension.
“Oh blast it,” he mumbled. “This friendship thing is a pain in my backside.”
With an irritated snap, Discord exited his pocket dimension, a peaceful isle in the rift for which only draconequuses could enter and exit.
Barring mail, of course.
——————
Luna was beside herself with excitement, Celestia noted.
“Sister, that was wonderful!” she exclaimed, practically dancing around the hallway. “That hoofwork! Those spells! A wonderful match!”
Celestia blushed. “Oh, I don’t believe it was that great. Very flashy, but nothing you couldn’t do.”
Luna blinked at that.
“I do that? Certainly not!” The she laughed. “Perhaps the flying and the dodging, but that spell. I thought I was a better mage than you are, but evidently you have been studying in your absence.”
Celestia opened her mouth, but shut it slowly. If she brought up the point that she had learned all her spells in her own universe, Luna would probably just deny it. Her sister was stubborn like that. Wait, no, this Luna, not her sister... Probably.
Twilight eventually caught up, while Celestia was politely checked out by medical personnel. Celestia waited patiently for her former—current student to make her way through the crowds and down the Arena steps. The alicorn was suddenly struck by the convenience she had relied on for those around her to utilise wings or magic or get around faster. Perhaps they were modern conveniences in her own world? She snorted, alicorn conveniences, certainly.
Luna greeted Twilight as she made her way to the pair. Celestia had previously convinced her sister to move off the platform. The attention she had garnered from the crowd made her feel a little too naked as centre of the proverbial and literal stage. It was a novel feeling, but one she thought she would feel more comfortable with the longer she was exposed to it. Vaguely, intuition told her that it was not a good thing.
It was already an addictive feeling.
“Princess!” Twilight called out when she was within earshot.
If Luna’s enthusiasm was a candle, Twilight’s was the sun.
“Princess that was absolutely amazing! I can’t believe you were able to pull so much off. At first, I admit, I was a little worried, but then your mastery of spells! You always held a little back, but this time, wow! It definitely shows—oh my am I babbling? Sorry Princess, I can’t stop gushing. You’re just—you!”
Though she had heard those words many times from Twilight as a foal, the praise still felt as genuine as it did back then. The similarities were striking. No matter how much she knew that this Twilight was not her Twilight, the little tics, the intense personality, the things that made Twilight, Twilight, and Luna, Luna still made her double take. She wondered if there were defining differences. She wondered that if there were, if that would make a difference to how she would treat them. She wondered if that should matter at all.
Celestia smiled at Twilight. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she replied. “I don’t enjoy fighting, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few tricks in my saddlebag.”
“Tricks indeed! You mentioned Sunrise, but I’ve never seen the like of it!” Luna exclaimed. “You must teach me it!”
Celestia shivered imperceptibly. With a force of will, she clamped down on the dark thoughts that rose from the recesses of her memories like shadowy spectres from the grave. This world’s Luna definitely did not know the reason why such a spell was created in the first place.
“Perhaps another time,” Celestia replied. “It is quite a complex spell.”
Twilight glanced between them, suddenly unsure of where she should place her hoof already midway on its path to the ground. The mood had suddenly swung from happy to glum in a hooful of seconds.
“Princess,” she said quickly. “That teleportation spell, how did you have such control over it? Nopony has ever been able to master it beyond…” She coughed. “Dematerialising.”
Celestia blinked. “Well, it’s one of Star Swirl’s first spells. Surely you know.”
Twilight frowned. “I’m not too familiar with that name. Who is Star Swirl?”
Twilight not knowing Star Swirl? Not for the first time since stepping into this world, Celestia found herself at a loss for words. Star Swirl’s works were one of the first things she had introduced to Twilight. That mare glued herself to the pre-classical unicorn. No doubt Star Swirl had as much bearing on her identity as her mother.
“Star Swirl,” Celestia said slowly. “Father of the Amniomorphic spell, unicorn with a fashion sense that could knock a bird off her perch?” Specifically, Philomena.
Twilight and Luna both shook their heads.
“You haven’t happen to have found a small labyrinth in the catacombs beneath the castle, have you?”
“There’s a catacomb beneath the castle?!” Twilight spluttered.
“There’s a labyrinth beneath the castle?!” Luna added.
Celestia bit her lip. “Well yes, there should be.” She left out that there was one back in her world, but if they haven’t heard of Star Swirl yet, then it could be possible that the unicorn would have never existed. Even Luna didn’t know, and she knew the unicorn almost as long as she had.
Twilight whipped around. “Hey, Princess! Where are you going?!”
Luna grinned. “Why to investigate the mysterious catacombs beneath Canterlot! There may be adventure, nay, treasure to be found!”
Celestia trailed along, a bemused smile infusing her lips.
“I may have to come along,” she remarked. Then in a low voice so that only Twilight could hear. “There could be traps, but don’t worry, stay close to me.”
Twilight looked confused, but nodded anyway.
——————
The tapping sound was getting to Luna.
“Twilight.”
The tapping sound continued. It seems like the unicorn didn’t hear her.
“Twilight!”
The tapping stopped. Twilight looked up from the taxation reports. “Hmm?”
“Your hoof is tapping again.”
Twilight glanced down at her hoof blankly before the words sunk in.
“Oh sorry!” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t help it, it’s a nervous habit, especially when I’m worried about somepony.”
Luna’s irate frown melted away, she replaced it with a concerned look.
“Twilight, perhaps you hath been working too hard. Mayhap you require a break?”
“No!” she yelled.
Luna stared at Twilight as grew mortified at her outburst.
“No,” she repeated softly, tears welling up. “I-I need to work. It takes my mind off things…”
“It’s only been a month, she’s been away for longer trysts,” Luna reminded her.
Twilight bit her lip and looked away. It didn’t take a mind reader to know what she was thinking.
“Despite what you think, there could be any number of reasons that she hasn’t sent us mail,” Luna continued softly. “However…”
Twilight found that she had read the same line for the fifth time. It wasn’t sinking in.
“Princess Luna—” she stopped herself.
Luna grimly noted that Twilight hadn’t yet called her simply Princess. She supposed her sister was the only one that had ever gotten ponies to address her as simply ‘the Princess’ or ‘Princess’.
When she was around, she was always the Princess.
Luna pushed the ugly thought aside. It occurred to her that she was probably just bitter that her sister hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, and now she could be—
She shook her head. No, it had only been a month. Besides, grieving could come later. She glanced at the mountain of paperwork that her sister routinely foisted upon her. Now they and royal duties were part of her schedule. How had Twilight managed to keep up with all of this a few years ago?
“Twilight, have a little faith. One way or another, Celestia will find her way back to us.”
Twilight swallowed audibly, but nodded. “I hope so, Princess.”
Luna glanced up at Twilight in surprise, but the unicorn was already looking at another form.
—————
“Princesses!”
Twilight almost reared up in surprise. The guard had burst in when she had paused for a break. She had wandered over the window and now froze guiltily with the window half-open. Luna fared better, merely glancing up from her scrolls.
“Yes?” Luna asked calmly.
“We’ve found a lead,” he said after a slight hesitation.
Luna immediately dropped her scrolls and Twilight snapped her head around.
“Well, why didn’t you say so, come on, out with it!” Luna demanded.
The guard shifted on his hooves uneasily. “We’ve found a Celestia.”
“You mean you’ve found Celestia,” Twilight corrected.
The guard met Twilight’s confused look with guileless eyes.
“No, I meant, we’ve found a Celestia.”
“What, you mean there’s more than one?” Twilight said.
“How many Celestias have you found?” Luna remarked in exasperation.
The stallion quickly shook his head. “No, no, we’ve found one Celestia.”
“Then what—” Twilight began.
“We’ve found Princess Celestia, but she’s claiming she’s not Celestia from this world.”
“How do you know?” Luna pressed.
“Well Discord seems to be there with her, and he’s vouching for her claim.”
“Discord! I should have known!” Twilight muttered.
The guard interjected quickly. “Much as I’m not a fan of his work, Discord assured me that he’s got nothing to do with this. He said, and I quote, ‘I swear on my little friendship that I have nothing to do with this’.”
Twilight glanced at Luna.
“Either way,” Luna said. “We have to investigate this.”
“Another Celestia?” Twilight snorted. “As if that would be possible.”
The room was silent, save for the gentle ticking of the antique clock positioned above the door. Twilight found herself glancing at the clock nervously every now and then, wondering what it would be like to meet a Celestia… that was not Celestia.
Nearby, Luna sat regally, her back straight and her posture stiff. It seemed like she was trying to make a good impression, but Twilight couldn’t tell. Luna’s expression could have been made of stone. She caught herself wistfully admiring the way the Luna held herself. Though she had been less than graceful around her subjects the last time she had visited Ponyville, Twilight had to remind herself that Luna was an experienced leader.
Luna was a princess that had strength and character to hold her own without so much as a twitch. She was firm and measured when need be, but she also sincerely desired the goodwill of her subjects, even to the point of ridicule. Change was hard, but Luna had this inner strength to her approach. She was tortured, brooding and misunderstood, and still she weathered it all. That was the part that Twilight couldn’t help but envy. She wondered if she could ever match that kind of composure, ever be able to handle that inevitable responsibility that weighed the soul and mind. In that way, Luna was similar to her sister, it seemed like nothing truly fazed her.
“Twilight?”
Twilight flinched.
“Y-Yes?” she replied, her own cheeks reddening. She must have looked strange, staring at the princess.
“Calm thyself, ’Tis only a meeting between princesses. You have been prepared for such diplomatic occasions before, have you not?”
Twilight nodded, but her eyes told a different story. “I-I understand.”
Luna slowly let go of her guarded countenance, smiling ruefully at Twilight. “You know,” she said softly. “I’m a little jealous of you.”
Twilight mouth fell open, she was so shocked she couldn’t even formulate a fitting reply.
“W-What?” she spluttered, then internally scolded herself.
Nice one, Twilight.
“I mean, what could you be jealous of?” Twilight continued quickly. “I’m so nervous that this seat’s the only thing that’s propping me up.”
Luna chuckled. “That’s it,” she emphasised the statement with a gentle tap of her hoof on the table. “It’s that openness with your feelings that make you so approachable, Twilight.” Luna vented a soft sigh, and her gaze grew wistful with an inner longing that Twilight found painful to even look at. Instead she concentrated on counting the woodgrains embedded in the table.
“You’re loved by almost everypony you meet, and you are well on your way to becoming a popular ruler. Even after, shall we say, ‘Twilight fever’ had ebbed, you are still adored in so many ways that I nor my sister could hope to attain.” Twilight heard the tea being lifted, then set back down.
Twilight flushed. “I-I wasn’t always like that,” she mumbled into her mane.
Luna nodded. “That’s partly why I’m envious. You make it look so easy, how ponies can change. My sister has vividly recounted how you’ve grown up, and I’ve seen it with mine own eyes.” Luna fiddled her hooves, then sighed. “I wish change would come so easily.”
Twilight bit her lip. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her.
“Luna I—”
A knock on the door interrupted her.
“Yes?” Luna called out, giving Twilight an apologetic glance.
The muffled voice of the guard filtered through.
“Discord requests to join the meeting, Princess.”
Luna shared a look with Twilight.
“Why not?” Twilight sighed. “At least he might explain himself.”
“Or infuriate us further,” Luna added wryly. Then she raised her voice. “Send him in!”
With a flash, Discord appeared in the centre of the table, arms outstretched as a magician would performing to an enraptured audience. Although his audience at the moment wasn’t particularly enraptured, nor so accommodating.
“So what’s your part in all of this?” Twilight demanded, deciding on impulse that the best defence would be to attack.
Discord looked affronted. “I balk at the insinuating undertone,” he replied with a pained claw to his feathered chest. “This was simply not my fault.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “It bears all the markings of your foul work,” she ground out, “ do you not enjoy the Chaos?”
Discord waggled his clawed appendage to and fro, causing Luna’s eyes to go temporarily cross-eyed. Her disapproval upgraded to a menacing glare.
“I don’t deal with such things anymore,” he said dismissively. “I’m rather a fan of the artistry this other one has pulled off.”
“Other one?” queried Twilight sharply. “What other one? Another draconequus?!”
“Oh please, I’m unique, you can’t get more than one of me!” Discord examined his paw nonchalantly. “I simply deduced that if it wasn’t me, it must be something else.”
“How would you know that?” Twilight pressed.
Discord threw up his arms in frustration. “Why all the suspicion?! It’s not as if I’ve done anything for the last few months.”
Twilight’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Apart from the rainbow sheep.”
Discord chuckled, but raised a hoof. “Well now, that was—”
“Let us not forget to incident with the Canterlot fountains!” Luna interjected harshly. “Thou knowest the hardship we’ve had with the noble-folk!”
Discord flicked a claw. “Well you must admit they did deserve—”
“You gave life to my books and told them to go free!” Twilight snapped.
Discord guffawed. “Alright, you got me on that one, but it was a harmless prank between friends. I may be capricious, but I’m no longer malicious!”
Twilight sat back down in her seat and glared at the draconequus. “So what?” she said. “It’s something different?”
Discord cleared his throat and patted his brow with a freshly summoned handkerchief. “Yes, well, it’s definitely something powerful enough to traverse worlds.”
“Worlds?” Twilight spluttered. “You mean—”
“Honestly, Twilight, it is like you’ve never been to a different world before.” Discord tutted, patting Twilight on her head and mussing up her mane. Twilight wiggled out of his grasp and slapped away his paw, gripping her mane protectively as the draconequus continued. “But you don’t have to believe me, the opportunity has come to give you a taste of, shall we say, an alternative perspective?” He snapped his claws, disappearing in the momentarily blinding light.
Luna shook her head. “That draconequus always gets under my coat,” she muttered bitterly. “I cannot see the good my sister sees in him.”
Twilight sighed. “Most of us can’t, but Fluttershy does.” Twilight rubbed a weary hoof over her face. “And as much as I hate to admit it, he does come in handy every now and then.” She forced herself to slowly unwind. “Fluttershy trusts him, and I trust Fluttershy. Which means I trust Discord—” Twilight hesitated then placed her head in her hooves “—dear Celestia, I never thought I would ever say that.”
If Luna was at unease with Twilight’s choice of words she didn’t show it. “Perhaps Discord has been lying, or creating a false illusion to stir up some trouble?” Luna proffered. “I would think that would be much like the Discord we know.”
Twilight looked away. “Ahem, yes, the possibility has occurred to me. If that’s the case then… who is the pony standing over there?”
Even Luna couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. “Sister?!”
Princess Celestia of Equestria stared down her sister coldly. “You,” she spoke in stentorian tones, “are not my sister.”
Luna balked. “But—”
“My word,” Celestia interrupted. “Do not get fresh with me, Princess Luna. I know you may think I am your sister, but I am not this world’s Celestia.” She rolled her eyes. “When I came to this world there were all these friendly subjects, acting all familiar with me.” She snorted. “Unacceptable, is this a kingdom I have created even as an alternate version of myself? I would have expected better.”
Twilight and Luna glanced at each other. They were both taken aback by the sheer aggression this alicorn showed. Galvanising herself into action, Twilight got out of her seat and gave Celestia a small bow. “Of course, Princess,” she said smoothly. Time to put those diplomatic skills the Princess had been teaching her to use. She indicated to a vacant seat on the opposite side of the table. “If you would like to take a seat?” Twilight offered.
Celestia accepted the invitation stiffly. “Ah I see Twilight, that even in this universe you are dependable as ever.” She sat down in what could only be described as gracefully, but her posture was ramrod stiff with her eyes locked at a fixed height. “Now,” Celestia said. “We may begin.”
“Sister—”
“Do not presume that I will tolerate that slip one more time!” Celestia yelled. She slammed a hoof into the table. “I am not your Celestia. I want to return to my world, and you shall help me in doing so.”
Luna sat back down, her eyes downcast. Twilight sank into her seat, the glare from Celestia’s visage too familiar and too severe to reconcile. She instinctively shrunk, trying to make herself as small as possible, as if she was trying to disappear into her seat.
Celestia didn’t say anything for a moment or two, Twilight couldn’t see it, but she assumed she was trying to get a grip on her rage.
“As you know,” Celestia continued with some difficulty. “I do not have a firmest grip on temper. I must apologise for my lack of propriety. I rarely have much tolerance for easily rectifiable mistakes. I am aware of such hypocrisy when dealing with such familiar faces, so I slip into a familiar routine. Changelings, you realise, it is a conditioned response, and I’m afraid an association has been made in my mind.” Twilight glanced up to meet Celestia’s… for lack of a better word molten gaze.
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Similar in look, but different in bearing and attitude.”
Celestia took a moment to sip at the cold tea. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact, the tea settled down with suddenly billowing steam. Twilight’s eyes widened as she realised that Celestia had passively cast a heating spell without the added protection of a transitive framework. That was beyond reckless!
A flash appeared in the centre of the room.
Celestia swept her gaze to sudden appearance of Discord. “Ah, Discord, I was wondering where you went.” She glanced back at the two ponies on the other side of the table. “It seems you found no need to return him to stone… for the third time.”
Discord waddled over to Luna, putting Luna squarely between himself and Celestia.
“You know, when I first found her, I thought, ‘Wouldn’t this be fun?’,” he muttered.
“What changed your mind?” Luna whispered back.
“Stop whispering and attend me,” Celestia commanded, her hoof struck the table with enough force to send a crack in the middle of the table. Luna leaped back from the sudden act of violence, her chair skittering back and narrowly missing Discord who managed to sidestep the chair equally narrowly. Twilight glanced between them wide-eyed.
“That’s what,” Discord replied wryly. “This Celestia’s a loose cannon, and this is coming from me, the Lord of Chaos!”
Celestia didn’t seem impressed. She glared at each of them in turn, then cleared her throat, bringing her voice down from a bellow to a soft, but unmistakably hostile, tone. “Well I suppose I am honour-bound to wish you no ill will,” Celestia directed that statement at Discord. She turned back and addressed Luna and Twilight, taking a deep breath. “I apologise for the damage to your furnishings. Everything back home had been fortified, so I am simply unused to flimsy nature of your fittings.” She paused slightly. “Forgive me.” Though each apology was well-meant, they did sound like they were dragged bodily out of her mouth every time. With a start, Twilight realised that Celestia was unused to explaining herself, or apologising, and that she was certainly making an effort to do both.
“That’s okay,” Twilight replied with a somewhat forced smile. “No harm done, we just want our Celestia back, so it’s in our best interests to take you back.” She cleared her throat. “Without a preliminary analysis I can’t tell you much, but I’d like to participate in some tests with Berchruder matrices to determine if we can pinpoint…” Twilight trailed off as Celestia eyed her critically. Her searching gaze reminded her of the School’s examination board. Especially of Mistress Pierce, with the way they penetrated right to her soul. Despite that, a slight smile played upon her lips, as if she were amused.
“Hmm, competent, knowledgeable and from the looks of things—” Celestia took in her wings “—powerful.” Celestia grinned at the alicorn in a way a cat might to a rat. “Perhaps you would like to be under my employ instead of the other Celestia? You show much promise.”
Twilight didn’t know what to say. “W-What?” she squeaked.
Celestia got up from her seat and eyed Twilight more closely. “What I’m saying,” Celestia whispered conspiratorially. “Is that there are many, many, benefits as one of my retainers.”
Twilight rapidly reddened as Celestia barked a laugh. “Ah, but perhaps not so much if you are easily teased as my own. Though what you have proposed makes sense. Very well, I will submit to your tests. Though much as I’d like to satisfy some of my curiosity, my subjects must be worried during my extended absence. I must return to secure Equestrian borders.” She turned back and addressed them all. “We shall meet again early in the morning to tackle the problem. Though I may not look it, I’m also at the end of my proverbial rope, and I will appreciate some rest.”
Twilight rose, but Celestia stared her down again. “Do not worry, I will find my own way to a guest suite. I bid you all a good day.”
With that Celestia left the room, with its occupants feeling as if a storm had just thundered past.
“See?” Discord muttered. “That mare scares me, and there’s not much that scares me at all.”
Luna bit her lip and nodded. “Twilight?” she queried, noticing that Twilight was still staring at the door. “Poor mare she must be—”
“Amazing!” Twilight exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. She caught the judgemental looks Discord and Luna sent her way and flushed slightly. “I-I mean look,” she said. “We get to see a side of Celestia we’ve never seen before!”
Luna frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Twilight faltered at Luna’s look, but continued hastily. “What I’m saying is that this is an unprecedented opportunity to see what life would be like if we were a little different.” She turned to Luna. “Haven’t you ever wished things were a little different?” She turned to Discord. “What the world would be like if Celestia had a altered personality?”
Luna conceded the point with a nod. “Let us not get too ahead of ourselves, Princess Twilight. Our number one priority is to retrieve my real sister.” Luna mumbled something that Twilight couldn’t catch, but didn’t have a chance to ask when Luna continued. “We must restore them both to their rightful places.”
Twilight sank back, mollified by Luna’s reasoning.
“Okay,” she said. Then a thought occurred to her. “I wonder what dinner would be like?”
Discord shuddered. He raised a claw in farewell. “One meeting was enough for me,” he muttered, and snapped away in a flash.
It was only moments after leading ahead that Luna finally swung around and admitted her mistake.
“I…” she trailed off, cheeks flaming.
“Don’t know where you’re going?” Celestia finished for her. She knew Luna had the habit of dashing off faster than her common sense could keep up.
Luna hesitated, then nodded abashedly. The corridor was filled with Celestia’s lilting laughter.
Twilight, who had been trailing behind, blinked in confusion, looking back and forth between the princesses. “What? What? What did I miss?”
Luna continued to stare at Celestia, with a disturbed expression. “My sister here, doth take great amusement in my navigational error.”
Celestia expected Twilight to laugh with her, but instead the unicorn regarded her as if she were the daft one. Her laughter died out as she regarded the two.
“What is it?” she asked, turning serious. “Was it something I said?”
Luna flushed, she looked more uneasy than comforted by her easy laugh. “Sister, are you alright? Ever since you’ve been back you’ve been acting out of sorts…”
Celestia tried again. “Luna, are you worried for my health?” she asked with an impish grin. “Perhaps you think me ill?”
Luna’s eyes widened considerably and she took a step back, cringing. “O-Of course not, Princess.”
Celestia sighed. What was it about this world’s Celestia that put her sister and her student off? She knew she was a somewhat aggressive character, but to put fear into the hearts of her sister and her student? That was wrong. A frustrated ruffle of her feathers brought Celestia back to the task at hoof. “Alright,” she said reluctantly, addressing Luna. She decided to shelve the issue until they had visited the mysterious caverns below the castle. “Perhaps we should talk about it as we head to the catacombs?”
Luna eyed Celestia with a hooded gaze. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was still ill-at-ease. “Of course, sister.”
There was that hesitation again. Celestia drew a deep breath and braced herself, glancing back at an apprehensive Twilight. No, her sister deserved the truth, no matter how crazy it would sound to her. All she needed to do what convince her of it. Which was the hardest part.
“What has Twilight told you about where I come from?”
“Come from?” Luna queried, eyes searching. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not the Celestia you knew from before,” Celestia explained reluctantly. “I’m from another world.”
Luna smiled as if she weren’t sure whether Celestia was being serious. When Celestia didn’t smile back, Luna’s expression became clouded with worry.
“Surely you are not serious…?” She glanced past her to Twilight. “Are you well, sister?”
Celestia clamped down on her rising frustration. She knew this wouldn’t be easy. She sighed. Why did she think otherwise?
“Luna, I know this is difficult to swallow, but I’m telling you the truth.”
Luna didn’t look so sure. “The truth as you see it, sister. Mayhap you believe a fanciful notion conjured in your absence?” She paused, then added quietly, “Though I admit, I do like this new temperament of yours.”
Celestia shook her head. “Things just don’t add up that way. My memories are crystal-clear and I even know how I got here. Why would I make up all that?”
“I am unsure.” Luna caught her expression. “N-Nay! I don’t mean that you would do such a thing intentionally!” She sighed. “It’s that alien you were talking about, what was its name? B-Bonny?”
“Benny.” Celestia sighed. “Though his reasons for leaving me here are entirely a frustrating mystery.”
“Princess?” Twilight finally spoke up, interrupting the exchange.
“Yes, Twilight?”
“Are we here?”
Celestia stopped, realising they had come up against a wall. “What’s this?”
Twilight looked at the wall, then back at Celestia. “It’s the eastern wall to the adjunct of the Royal Chambers, Princess.”
Celestia trotted a couple of steps forward and touched the wall with her hoof. “There should be a passageway leading down to the catacombs.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “So you say, sister.”
They probably thought she was losing her mind… well more than they thought of already.
“I don’t…” she trailed off, trying to reconcile the information that had presented itself in front of her with her memories. If this universe was different concerning her temperament, then it certainly wouldn’t hold any reservations about physical locations. Celestia laid her head on the stone, feeling the heat of her forehead warm underneath. The stone was icy cold, but it felt good. She felt as brittle as ice, and afraid she would shatter with a mere touch.
Neither Twilight nor Luna said anything, they simply watched a sister, a mentor, a ruler, look heartbreakingly forlorn in a wilderness made of the familiar. Celestia felt two hooves, one on each shoulder, laid gingerly in comfort. Eyes widening and fearing to test her breath, Celestia turned around. She saw the sympathetic expressions etched deep in their features. If the Celestia of this world cared for her subjects at all, then these two would not share such a tender look.
Deep down, Celestia knew that they thought she was this universe’s Celestia, so, in a way, their care simply stemmed from the love they felt for that version of her, not for herself now. Though she thought the realisation would make her feel more disconnected, it somehow brought her closer. It seemed they both worried for her, even if they went about it differently. Even as, quite frankly, Celestia found her counterpart’s suggested personality and choices distasteful.
The feeling was surreal, like she had been touched through the stalwart walls of reality to experience something old, yet new. It was a shivering sensation conveyed by a dream constructed of her sordid ‘what ifs’ pieced together from the back of her waking mind into a startling new cognisance. A new awareness that swept her off her hooves in startling comprehension.
They were the same. Different, but the same.
“Sister?”
Celestia shook herself out of her momentary fugue. She blinked at Luna, seeing for once, a sister, not a stranger.
“Ahem, well, yes. There wasn’t a wall here before.”
Twilight’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise didn’t comment on her strange choice of words.
Celestia gave them a warm smile. “Well Twilight, Luna, I think there is work to be done, don’t you agree.”
The mood lightened from cautious confusion to prudent optimism.
“That sounds like the sister we know,” Luna replied slowly. “Have you come to your senses?” She shot a hoof to her mouth. “If you don’t mind me saying so, sister.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “I haven’t lost anything,” she muttered, then continued in a louder voice, “but if I know anything about myself it’s that my duty to Equestria comes first.” Twilight and Luna were now both smiling, nodding along.
“It is great to see that you are truly yourself, sister,” Luna commented.
Twilight nodded with a grin.
“First, I need a report,” Celestia commanded.
Twilight and Luna jolted forwards, then froze, turning back.
“A report?” Twilight asked.
Celestia could help but smile at Twilight’s confused tone. “Yes, Twilight, a report. I need documentation of everything in my absence.”
“N-No need for that, Princess,” Twilight said quickly. “I’ve dealt with all the work required.”
“Now, now, Twilight, what kind of ruler would I be if I weren’t appraised of civil affairs?”
When Twilight could only work her jaw open and closed, Luna jumped in.
“It is simply… unusual for you to take an interest in such things,” Luna stressed meaningfully.
The hint of confused exasperation was not lost on Celestia. “Hmm? A ruler rules, do they not?”
“Y-Yes,” Twilight stammered, “but—”
“And a government governs, do they not?”
“Yes, but—”
A playful grin lit up Celestia’s features. “The first step to managing a nation is to look at the paperwork.”
“But you hate paperwork!”
Celestia merely smiled in reply.
Luna turned to Twilight, her expression grave. “Twilight, this must be serious, sister does not do paperwork.”
“That’s insulting,” Celestia interjected wryly. “I’m rather good at it.”
“’Tis not the matter of proficiency that we are concerned about, sister,” Luna remarked gravely. Luna looked like she was on the verge of panic. “Sister, you do not do paperwork.”
Twilight found it hard to meet her gaze. “Princess, it’s best if you left it to me.”
Celestia snorted. “Luna, are you denying me my request?”
Luna looked taken aback. “W-Well no, sister, mayhap you could consider—”
“Then let me do some paperwork,” Celestia interrupted, ire underscoring her statement.
Neither Luna nor Twilight looked liked they were inclined to agree with her. They looked like a kettle near boiling, filled to the brim with a thousand arguments. Luna looked especially flustered, but she sullenly held her tongue.
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know about paperwork?”
Twilight shifted, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but under her stern gaze. “You… don’t remember?”
Celestia sighed impatiently. “Remember what?”
Luna and Twilight shared a glance.
“Remember what?” she repeated.
“Uh…” Luna trailed off. “You know…”
Luna and Twilight shared another look.
“What?” Celestia pressed, her patience hanging by a thread.
Luna bit her lip. “She doesn’t know. It would be a good idea to perhaps…”
Twilight shrank under Celestia’s intense gaze. “You set the table on fire!”
Celestia could feel her mouth falling open like a trapdoor. “What?”
“You crushed the desk!” Twilight squeaked. The unicorn flushed an interesting shade of red, looking like she’d slathered herself with honey and plopped herself in front of a bugbear.
“The drapes,” Luna added wryly. “Then the chandelier. Several ponies left the throne room without their hair.”
“Once the secretary retired, I took his place,” Twilight explained, shrugging self-consciously. “You appointed me with managing all the documents.”
Celestia eyes flickered between them. Even though the other Celestia sounded like she was a mare of action, she couldn’t be that incompetent.
“I’m quite good at paperwork—” Celestia began, but Luna headed her off.
“Yes, yes, sister, you are quite skilled.” Luna took a deep breath, seem to come to a decision and then ploughed on. “Paperwork tends to attract your ire.” Luna gave her a weak smile. “Let us handle it, please?”
Celestia set her jaw, giving Luna a look of grim determination. “No, I have a duty to look over the affairs of my subjects, whether they be in pony or in writing.”
“Yes, but—”
Celestia raised a hoof. “I insist.”
Luna fell silent. “As you wish,” she finally sighed. She turned to Twilight and leaned in. “Make sure you get the fire extinguisher.”
The words were spoken low in a whisper, but Celestia pretended not to hear.
————————
Celestia’s hoof crashed through the desk, breaking the seventh one that day.
“Apologies,” she said automatically, then went back to reviewing another scroll.
Twilight sighed shifting her wings in discomfort, but didn’t comment on the desk. She thought about getting a metal desk, but the other Celestia seemed to find tougher materials a challenge rather than a countermeasure. Twilight wryly considered that getting a better desk would only end up with an escalation of force.
“Princess…”
“Yes?” Celestia snapped impatiently. She took a deep breath at Twilight’s look, then spoke in a softer tone. “Yes, what is it?”
Twilight cleared her throat. “I’ve finished with the preparations.”
Celestia straightened, putting aside the scrolls and trotting over to the centre of the inscribed lines, symbols and patterns laboriously drawn on the floor. Her gaze swept critically over them, her expression neutral. Unexpectedly, it broke into a pleased smile.
“Are you sure you would not like to come back with me? This is all impressive work. There could be some potential for you to join the ranks of the Equestrian Empire.”
“Empire?” Twilight blurted out.
Celestia seemed lost in her thoughts, and didn’t seem to hear Twilight’s question. “Hmm, I see the supporting structure links to this, quite innovative…” She glanced up at Twilight looking more like she was eyeing a meal rather than a pony. “Yes, perhaps I should bring you back with me.”
Twilight chuckled, but stopped halfway when Celestia didn’t join her. She realised it wasn’t a joke. She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry, Princess, I’ll have to decline.”
Celestia lifted an eyebrow. “You would deny me? Me of all ponies?”
Twilight bit her lip but restrained herself from taking a step back. “With all due respect,” she replied steadily. “Even if I devised a way to follow you, I wouldn’t abandon my friends, my family, my responsibilities here.”
Twilight cringed, expecting a scathing response, but when she received none, she carefully cracked open an eye to find the other Celestia smiling. It wasn’t a kind, inclusive smile like she knew from their own Celestia. Prideful arrogance shone through instead, but somehow it had this underlying warmth that felt familiar.
“Hmm… I approve. Even though it became more unlikely, your loyalty is a quality that makes you more attractive.” Celestia licked her lips and watched Twilight squirm for a few moments more before she flicked a hoof in dismissal. She returned her attention to the pattern on the ground, scanning the structure.
“Never mind,” Celestia murmured. “I always get what I desire.” She fixed Twilight with an uncomfortable stare. “And what I desire are the most powerful ponies around me.”
Desperate to change the subject, Twilight nodded to the pile of discarded desks in the corner of the room. “In any case, you seemed frustrated by the paperwork—” she caught Celestia’s suddenly smouldering look “—if you don’t mind me saying so, Princess.”
Celestia glanced back at the desks with a ferocious scowl. “Ah,” she growled ominously. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I despise paperwork.”
Twilight took in the shattered remains of the poor writing desks and pursed her lips.
It goes a little beyond that, she thought wryly, but didn’t say it out loud.
————————
“This is horrible!”
Twilight and Luna were in the corner of the room, looking like they wanted to bolt straight out of the room, though Celestia suspected for vastly different reasons.
“Which pony instigated this?!” Celestia demanded, smacking the parchment on her desk.
Twilight sought Luna’s help with wide eyes. Luna shook her head frantically and shrunk back further into the corner.
“I told you,” Luna mumbled more to herself than to anypony else, “we are in dire straits indeed.”
Twilight glared at Luna. “This was your idea as much as mine!”
Celestia eyed them both. “Oh come now, I’m not that angry.”
“She hasn’t destroyed the desk yet,” Twilight admitted.
“But she does look aggravated,” Luna pointed out. “It may pay to be cautious.”
Twilight conceded the point with a careful nod. They both stayed where they were.
“You’re overreacting. I’m telling you, I’m not the Celestia you know.” She huffed. “I can get frustrated with paperwork.”
“The desk is still intact,” Twilight repeated cautiously, eyeing her mentor through her periphery.
Celestia frowned at Twilight’s statement. Though the content of their speech might be amusing to an outside context, their serious demeanour during the exchange put a damper on her tolerance. She shot a look at Luna, but her sister seemed to find the corner wall the most interesting part of the room.
According to Twilight, before they had entered, the room had been prepared specifically for the purpose of Celestia’s paperwork. Celestia suspected that the vast spacing of the room was to accommodate her counterpart’s flair for the dramatic. In the centre of the hall was a singular desk standing alone with paper and parchment stacked neatly on the surface.
“What’s this about desks?” Celestia gave Twilight a look that told her she would broker no evasive answers.
Twilight hesitated, then started to raise her hoof.
Quickly, Luna grabbed it, stopping it midway. “What are you doing?” She hissed in a voice that was obviously meant for Twilight alone.
Celestia rolled her eyes, her sister had never been great at controlling her volume.
Twilight glanced back at Celestia and mumbled something back to Luna.
“Do you think that could trigger an episode?” Luna shot back.
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Episode?” she spoke in a clear voice.
Twilight and Luna flinched and turned back to Celestia looking like a pair of foals caught with their hooves in the cookie jar. Unable to maintain her frustrated ire, Celestia simply pursed her lips instead of betraying her amusement at their foalish expressions.
As Celestia had expected, Twilight snapped under the pressure of her stoic scrutiny first. With a bitten lip and mournful expression, Twilight pointed past the alicorn. Luna sighed as Celestia looked back behind her and realised that there was a side door recessed into the wall on the other end of the room.
Celestia raised an eyebrow in askance, but when she received no further explanation, she got up from the desk and made her way across the room. Apart from a large set of double doors at one end, there was a side door recessed into the wall that Celestia only noticed when Twilight had belatedly indicated its existence.
As a private aside, Celestia did feel like their double-standard for familiarity and caution was a little wearing. In the space of a few moments, Luna and Twilight had whiplashed between critical and assertive to doubtful and submissive. She supposed that the pair was unsure how to feel themselves. They probably viewed her as still ‘ill’ with her apparently sudden change of habits and seemingly convoluted story.
It wasn’t that convoluted, she thought bitterly, stranger things have happened in Equestria.
Celestia could feel her lip pull down in a disapproving slash downwards. She reined it in slightly, if only to stop herself from slipping into bad habits. It wouldn’t do to come back to her own version of Equestria with this Celestia’s foul personality. Shaking her head free of dark ruminations, the alicorn stood before the door and wondered what was on the other side. Weapons of war? Hideous secrets that couldn’t be shown publicly lest the populace lose trust in the Princesses? Celestia chuckled to herself, flinging the door open.
Shocked silence continued for three full breaths.
“That’s… quite impressive,” Celestia finally managed to get out. “In a strange sort of way.”
Luna cleared her throat. “Do you understand our… reticence, dear sister?”
Celestia could only shake her head. It was mostly in confusion, though there was a touch of anger.
“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Twilight assured Celestia, edging her way closer as a pony would to a bear on fire. Twilight looked like she was trying to calm her down, but it wasn’t working, this was beyond a travesty.
Celestia pointed to the wreckage beyond the door. “There has got to be thirty or forty desks in there!”
Twilight shrugged self-consciously. “Actually, Princess, it’s more like over a hundred.” She shrunk back as Celestia’s eyes went from dim embers to vivid bonfires.
“What in Equestria? How can one pony produce so much destruction?! Unthinkable!”
Luna blinked. “Sister?”
“A single desk like that is worth hundreds of bits!” Celestia trotted forward and picked up a chunk of wood. “That’s oak! The finish is made by master craftspony! Look at this lining.” She gestured with the piece of wood to the rest of the desks. “These are high quality desks, what would possess a pony to do this to a poor desk?!”
Twilight looked like she had a hard time deciding how to react to the turn of events.
“Princess?”
Celestia was peering intensely at the scrap of wood, turning it this way and that with her magic. Unbeknownst to Twilight, Celestia was trying to find a way to magically reassemble the poor remnants of a writing desk. “Hmm…?”
Twilight leaned forward slightly. “...Is that all?”
Celestia looked up from the debris and tossed it back onto the pile with a sigh. “I know, it’s a tragedy, but I wouldn’t be able to restore any of these.”
Twilight shared a look with Luna, who had somehow made it across the room and was hiding behind the desk. She gingerly stepped away from it and gave her sister a sheepish glance.
“What’s going on?” Celestia asked impatiently, feeling like this time would not be the last time she would be asking this question.
“Well, you have to understand…” Twilight trailed off as Luna shook her head frantically.
“Luna?” Celestia’s voice carried a edge to it, and Luna flinched as if she was cut.
“Sister…” Luna began reluctantly, then hurried on when Celestia’s gaze darkened. “We were worried that you would… Mayhap some circumstance around which that being influenced by such triggers…”
Celestia turned her attention to Twilight.
“We thought you might tear up the place when you saw the shattered desks. You didn’t like it when you were reminded of paperwork, so you had even the desks cleared from the room.” Twilight smiled weakly. “After a while all the debris had to be cleared anyway, because it was getting hard to make our way to the centre.”
“This is madness,” Celestia whispered. “Who ordered this.”
Twilight didn’t say anything.
“You were going to say I did, weren’t you?” Celestia stated more than asked.
Twilight flushed and looked away, unable to meet Celestia’s gaze.
Celestia sighed. “Would you remind me why I hate paperwork so much?”
Twilight blinked at her. “You always thought it pointless. You once told me that actions accomplish more than words ever could. Words belong in the annals of history, not in the action of the present.”
Celestia took in Twilight’s words, mulling the statement over in her head.
Twilight continued, taking the silence as permission to continue. “If you don’t mind me saying so, but although I do handle most of the paperwork, I do find some of them tedious when something has to be done.”
Celestia nodded slowly. “I see what you mean, Twilight, but I don’t believe that should be taken to such extremes. Paperwork is necessary and written accountability is essential for the Courts.”
Twilight looked like she wanted to agree but said nothing.
Luna trotted over, joining them. “That would not be what you would have conveyed to us a decade in passing, sister.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’m from a different universe!”
Luna’s wary skepticism flooded her features. “So you say, sister. You may not be in the right mind to accept reality as it is.”
Celestia took a calming breath. “Luna, I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I think your desire to reunite with your family is overwhelming your ability to listen to what I’m saying.” She stopped when she saw Luna look away.
“That’s not true,” Luna muttered. “I truly believe that you’re not yourself.”
“For good reason,” Celestia replied firmly. “There should be a way to tell. A way to prove it.”
“What way?” Twilight asked, speaking up in the uncomfortable silence that followed. She flushed as both alicorns looked at her. “I-I mean surely even if you say you are different, there’s no way to tell physically if you are different.” Twilight shrugged. “It’s only logical to assume that a simpler mechanism can explain your personality change. It could be psychological trauma, amnesia, an enlightenment on your journey…”
Twilight shook her head sadly. “If there’s no testable hypothesis, then the conjecture is merely that.”
Celestia found herself both proud and annoyed at her former student. Though she had to remind herself that in this universe, this Twilight was her current student, so she supposed she should be even more proud. Maybe. Still, it was frustrating to know the truth, but be unable to convince what should be her closest confidants.
“There must be a way,” Celestia muttered to herself. Then a switch clicked in her mind. When in doubt, research it out.
“Follow me,” Celestia announced with a smile.
Luna sported a frown. “Where are we going?”
Celestia grinned. “To the library, of course.”
Twilight perked up, but Celestia could see her visibly push down on her enthusiasm. “But Princess, what about… the uhm… paperwork?”
Celestia glanced back, having forgotten they were even there. She flicked her tail dismissively. “Oh that? I finished that some time ago, I just liked to re-read some of the reports and vent a little.”
Twilight stopped dead in her tracks as her jaw flopped open.
“W-What?!” she squeaked. “Over seven hundred reports in half an hour?”
Celestia tapped her horn. “Multi-focus. It allows you to read several reports at the same time. You also learn to filter the important information quickly from experience.” Celestia let out an annoyed titter. “Though I also rewrote a few tax reforms, what a mess! Who was responsible for that?”
Luna cleared her throat. “That would be you, sister.”
Even though she knew it was her alternative-self’s fault, she felt a prick of guilt as if it were her failing.
Seeing the library had Celestia gaping in surprise.
“Is this all?”
Around her, where she expected the shelves to be laden with untold volumes of all different scripts, origins and form, were empty shelves and few books. A young mare with a tousled mane wearing glasses and a beanie scampered from her post at a forlorn desk and skittered to a stop before them.
“Princess!” she greeted with a low bow.
Celestia was almost beyond hearing her, she couldn’t stop staring. “Where… are all the books?”
The mare peeked up from her bow and stared at the Princess in confusion. “The books, Your Highness?”
Celestia gestured around them. “The books, you know, paper bound between covers for reading? They’re often found in libraries.”
“They’re all here.”
Luna stepped forward. “Sister, do you not recall that you had most of the books donated away to the public libraries?”
“What?!”
Twilight nodded. “All the books apart from the restricted ones were given to public facilities.”
“Who would—” right, it was her “—I guess most of what I would need would be in the restricted sections of the library, but what about the ponies in my School?”
“School?” Luna asked.
Celestia frowned. “Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?”
“Since when did such a conception come to pass?” Luna shot Twilight a glance as if she could resolve the dilemma. Luna glanced back at Celestia, saw her look, and immediately added, “I-I mean we have not heard such a thing, sister.”
Celestia made an effort to smooth her features, given how touchy they were with the other Celestia’s reactions, she could afford to be a little more patient. But how would she research a way to get back, or even prove that she was in an alternate reality?
Twilight didn’t seem to notice the exchange and was smiling somewhat dreamily. “Sounds like a school I would apply for.” Then she snapped out of it as she realised Celestia was staring at her. Shaking her head, Twilight added quickly, “But of course I wouldn’t give up the opportunity to assist you as I have now!”
Twilight always seemed eager to prove her loyalty. She wondered if that was her quirk being brought up differently, or if the other Celestia had fostered that feature. Her gut-feeling told her that the other Celestia would, but she would reserve judgement until she found out the truth. Every second that passed, she was beginning the like the other alicorn less and less.
“Never mind, I think I will explore the library at a later date.” She remembered the mare still lying prone on the floor, and suppressed a little flare of guilt for leaving her there. “What is your name, dear?”
The mare quivered as she straightened from her bow. “Pounce Pot, Princess.”
“Thank you, Pounce Pot. I would like you to gather some references for me.”
“Yes, Princess, anything!”
Slightly taken aback by the heart-gripping enthusiasm of the librarian, Celestia hesitated briefly before responding. “In that case… could you please fetch me Raugher’s Renditions, Starswirl’s Spellighraphys, Mellow’s Matrices and Helical Hyperdimensions, to start off with. Actually, on second thought, have them sent to my room, I will review them later.”
“As you wish, Your Royal Highness.” Nodding and bowing several times, Pounce scurried away to do her bidding, looking uncharacteristically overjoyed to be given something to do. Celestia watched with some bemusement as she disappeared around a corner.
“Excitable librarian isn’t she?”
“Was that entirely necessary?” Luna commented wryly.
Celestia blinked at Luna’s tone. “What was?”
“Assigning her a task,” Luna replied with a tone that indicated she thought it was obvious, “Twilight can adequately handle any matter you give her, you trust her so.”
Twilight nodded avidly. “You can trust me to get it done, Princess. There’s no need to order somepony like that to do it.”
“Like that?” Celestia repeated, dumbfounded.
Luna shook her head and glanced meaningfully in the direction Pounce had disappeared to. “Ponies like that are often relegated to tasks like these because they haven’t done so well in Central recruitment.”
Celestia blinked again, feeling like a broken record. “Central recruitment?”
Luna eyed her for a long moment, as if she was unsure if the inquiry was a test or a genuine question. “Central recruitment was something you’ve instated, sister. All ponies receive a centralised education system that ranks all participants based on a variety of aptitudes. Especially favoured are those that can be assigned to Military Academy, where those are hoof-picked to be a part of the guard and get a chance to earn glory in defending our Empire.” Luna cocked her head as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “Though some can directly challenge in Court, as before.”
“That sounds horrible,” Celestia spluttered, her face a mask of disgust. “How can anypony justify something like that?” Their silence being the only response, Celestia resolved to keep such thoughts to herself from now on. They obviously thought it was her doing, though they were not at fault for doing so. She was about to turn to another subject, but then it hit her. “Wait, Empire?”
Luna nodded warily, watching her sister more like a mouse does a cat, rather than one sibling does to another. Celestia made the effort to smooth her expression. Even though she had impressed upon them that she had come from a different Equestria, Luna seemed to firmly believe otherwise. She had to gently guide her back, but now was not the time.
“The Empire, sister,” Luna continued with something between a falsely jovial and a meekly cajoling tone. “You know, the Empire you helped build that encompasses most of the land?”
Celestia tried to grapple with the idea. “I didn’t have to… fight anypony to make it happen, did I?”
Luna laughed. “Goodness, no.”
Celestia heaved an inward sigh of relief.
“Not any pony,” she continued with a chuckle, “and it wasn’t much of a fight! But I believe you have fought griffons, dragons, minotaurs…”
As Celestia listened to the litany of creatures the other Celestia had fought to maintain ‘the Empire’, she was acutely aware of that fact that she should be surprised, but could not work up the feelings to be so.
To think, she thought darkly, this started off as a vacation.
—————————
It had been strangely gratifying to see Luna and Twilight sit there with their mouth agape, though only between the rushing to and fro of their quest to lessen the administrative load of their suddenly engaged Princess. After being disappointed with the library, Celestia decided that she would catch up on a few week’s worth of paperwork, so she attacked it with a newfound alacrity. She thought the action surprised them, what with her being so suddenly capable. Well, capable without resorting to the destruction of nearby furnishings and pony hair, as she heard told. Twilight had been ablaze with her ardent interest in what Celestia was doing, often stopping to ask her questions and marvelling at her apparent restraint in dealing with some of the more testing of bureaucratic forms.
“What about this, Princess?” Twilight held out a scroll and beamed.
“Hmm, a strange way of dealing with the problem, but the budget is balanced and sound—no wait, perhaps it would be better to move the assets here, and shift the load of work to this district.”
Twilight glanced at the calculation and nodded. “Thank you, Princess.”
Luna crept over and checked the figures. “As competent as ever, sister.” She seemed uneasy, despite the fact that nothing had gone wrong throughout the last half of the day.
“I don’t mean to sound like a broken record,” Celestia told her sister impatiently, “but I am different from the Celestia you knew.”
“That we are beginning to see,” Luna admitted, with a gaze sweeping across the discarded parchment and administrative refuse. “I cannot fathom why.”
“It’s simple—”
“—in a way does not concern interdimensional travel,” Luna added.
“Technically it’s not—” Twilight choked off her explanation and shrunk under a quelling look from Luna. “Never mind.”
“Sister, you have faith in yourself, but I am not so strong. I would like it if you would see the doctor.”
Celestia placed the scroll back down with the others as the trio were stifled by an ominous silence.
“A doctor?” Celestia posed mildly.
Luna nodded, her stance firming. “It is quite obvious something has happened in your absence. We have performed a medical investigation, but it was far from thorough.”
Celestia sighed. “You won’t find anything.”
Luna raised an eyebrow and strode forward so that she was less than a foot from the other side of the desk. She leaned forward slightly, her expression imploring. “Perhaps, sister, but what have you got to lose?”
Celestia considered it. It wouldn’t hurt to have a medical examination. She smiled. “If it will set you at ease, Luna.”
Luna looked both happy and disturbed that she would acquiesce so easily. In fact, her willingness to set her at ease seemed to only further her clear conviction that something was wrong. Luna, hesitated for a few seconds more, then came to grips with the internal conflict reflected in her eyes and tilted her head.
“I will arrange for the doctor,” she said, before turning around and leaving.
“Wait,” Celestia called out. “I have a question.”
Luna froze, then turned around. “Yes?”
“You’ve lost your ancient Equestrian dialect, why is that?”
Her sister looked uncomfortable being the one under scrutiny.
“Luna?” Celestia pressed.
Luna heaved a sigh, and answered reluctantly. “A courtier once made a jest at my expense. He is of no consequence, but I will give no other opportunities to those who seek them.”
“Ah, I see, I was just wondering.”
Luna tilted her head as if considering something, then added, “Also, I would like to blend in with my subjects. In your… extended absence I’ve had to make changes. The… physicians advised me that reminding you of old speech might trigger some memories. I have abandoned the effort, and speaking in a more modern tone is more befitting for a ruler closer to her subjects. We are for want of a more united Empire, after all.”
At the mention of the Empire, Celestia inwardly winced, but gave an approving nod. The physicians? She didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that Luna was lying to her, she had chosen to do so for another reason, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason. Seeing Luna staring apprehensively at her, Celestia decided to let it go.
“Thank you, Luna.” She watched as her sister returned the nod and shut the door behind her. Celestia turned to Twilight, raising an eyebrow. “She still doesn’t believe me.”
Twilight looked torn. “I know she doesn’t, and honestly, I still have my doubts. Not a day ago, I probably would have agreed with Princess Luna, but now… I’m not so sure.”
Celestia blinked in surprise. “What changed your mind?”
“You, Princess,” she admitted, levitating a scroll. “You might have been competent in paperwork, but there’s no way you could be this intimately knowledgeable about some of things you’ve done unless you’ve been living and breathing this work like I have. Also, the way you’ve handled the policy just seems so…”
“Not myself?”
Twilight could only nod.
Celestia smiled. “So you believe me?”
“No,” Twilight said finally, looking pained just saying it. “I guess, I don’t want to admit it.”
“Why?”
Twilight bit her lip and looked away. “Because if it’s true that you’re from another Universe and you have to head back, there’s no guarantee that we’d get our Celestia in that bargain.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you again. The first time was painful enough.”
Celestia felt that there was something more that Twilight wanted to say, but she was holding back. Seeing the unicorn gaze at the ground for a while, Celestia decided she needed a little prompting.
“That’s not the only reason, is it?”
Twilight glanced up and made eye-contact, shivering as she did so. She looked so much like a frail quail chick that had fallen from her nest. Without a word, Celestia swept from her desk and wrapped herself around her vulnerable student.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I like the way you are right now. You are kind, patient and gentle, but also somehow strong despite all that. I almost want you to stay as you are, and I’m thinking…”
Celestia waited in silence as Twilight collected herself.
“I’m thinking that Luna might feel the same way too.” Twilight stared at the floor intently, as if she were trying to bore through it with just her mind. “I would have never said that before.”
She couldn’t think of a suitable response to that. Even considering that they were different, that they weren’t the same ponies she knew, it was getting increasingly difficult to distinguish them both. The same faces, the same expressions, the same emotions. Celestia couldn’t help but feel a measure of pain for their untenable plight. They so desperately wanted their sister, their mentor, their leader back, and now that they’ve gotten a better trade-in, they wanted to keep it. If it weren’t so tragic, she might have laughed, instead she stifled a pang of loneliness.
“Okay,” she spoke softly in soothing comfort. “I will stay for a while. In any case, I will need to be around to research a way to get back. In the meantime, I will try and find out where your Celestia has gotten to and I will make every effort to bring her back. Does that sound agreeable?”
Twilight looked back at Celestia with wide eyes. “You won’t leave?”
Celestia shook her head. “Well, not for now.”
Twilight sagged with relief. “Thank you, Princess.”
——————
It was late when Celestia finally finished up the last of the paperwork. Though she normally thought the work was onerous on any given week on her world, here it felt like the only bastion of normalcy in this twisted version of Equestria. With a sigh, she placed down the quill and neatly arranged the paperwork she had completed in one pile. Then she arranged it in a couple of ways, alphabetically, chronologically, then alphabetically and then by chronology. Realising she was delaying, Celestia reluctantly left her desk and exited the room.
Earlier, she had dismissed a reluctant Twilight, who looked ready to work until she dropped. With a smile, she realised that this would probably be a common trait between the two Twilights of the different worlds. Some things never changed.
Winding her way through the corridors, the layout being intimate, though the furnishings unfamiliar, Celestia pleasantly greeted the two guards standing outside the antechamber of her personal room. They didn’t move a muscle, but their eyes spoke for them, widening in predictable response to a princess that she guessed didn’t usually exchange such pleasantries. Closing the door to her antechamber, she stripped off her regalia and set them gently on the small table in the room, though keeping her crown. More often than not, she wore it to sleep, sometimes forgetting she had it on. Right now, it was one of the only things left from her world.
Celestia opened ‘her’ bedroom door, registered the insides, then slowly closed it.
“I must be seeing things,” she mumbled.
The doors swung open again.
Inside, the décor was outlandish, to say the least. One of the walls was covered in artefacts of various descriptions that looked like they had been stolen from ancient temples or lost cities. Various weapons adorned the surface of the other wall, ranging from the ceremonial, to the impractical, to the deadly proficient. Some of the weapons turned her stomach just looking at them. The walls were painted red, orange and yellow, with black as a background, with swirling designs that looked more like she had stepped inside a volcano, rather than a room.
“What is this, Sombra’s basement?” Celestia muttered to herself, staggering out of the room into the antechamber. She drew herself up short when she realised there was another pony there with her.
“Twilight?”
Twilight was standing outside the door, wide-eyes and all.
“Settling in?” Twilight asked in what Celestia supposed was a helpful tone.
“I-It’s…” Celestia straightened. “Don’t you have a home to get to? I thought I dismissed you hours ago.”
Twilight blinked. “I live in the castle, Princess. You have me on-hoof in case you need me as your attendant.”
“A-Attendant?” she spluttered.
The unicorn nodded emphatically, giving her a wobbly grin that looked more like a grimace. “Yes, when other duties have been taken care of. It’s usually the paperwork, but, well, you finished it all.” She cringed as if expected a rebuke. Finding none, Twilight opened an eye, but found Celestia just standing there befuddled.
Celestia smiled weakly. “There’s no need to accompany me for now, I just need to find… alternative accomodations.”
Twilight glanced around her to take a peek into the room.
“Is something wrong? Oh no, was there something missing, something that needed dusting or pressed? I tried to get everything together the best I could!”
Celestia quickly waved her hooves in an effort to calm Twilight down. “It’s not that, it’s very clean as far as I could tell… it’s the decor.”
“Oh no, I forgot to hang up one of your trophies, didn’t I? You had a different one every night, but I couldn’t decide which one—” She choked off the last part of her sentence when Celestia laid a gentle hoof on her shoulder.
“It’s fine, Twilight,” Celestia reassured, deciding that it was best, at least for the moment, to bear with the ridiculous colour scheme. Besides, what kind of a colour scheme was black and red? She glanced at herself. It wasn’t as if she were black and red. Even Chrysalis was black and green and Nightmare Moon had been black and blue. Black and red? She might as well declare herself Queen of Tartarus.
“Princess?” Twilight was staring at her with apprehensive eyes.
Celestia snapped back into focus. “Oh, sorry Twilight, what were you saying?”
“I was, uhm, asking if you would like to put your hoof down.”
Celestia’s eyes twitched. Her hoof was still on Twilight’s shoulder. Belatedly, she took it off.
“Ah, sorry.”
“No need to apologise, Princess,” Twilight said with a blush. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’m just not used to that room, maybe I’ll go for a short walk around the Gardens? Late evening tea sounds nice.”
Twilight perked up. “I can help with that, Princess!”
Before she could dash off, Celestia called back the excited unicorn. “There’s really no need for you to help me with that.” Celestia trotted forward with a smile. “Somepony else can handle it. I’m sure you’d like to head back to your home and spend the night with your parents.”
Twilight’s smile wobbled a bit. “M-My parents?”
“Yes,” Celestia replied, “is something wrong?”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Nothing could be wrong. Nothing wrong could be now. Now there is nothing wrong!” Twilight shut her mouth as she realised she was babbling. Celestia stared at her as she added, somewhat lamely, “Princess.”
“Is there something wrong?” Celestia asked.
Twilight winced. “They’re with the Resistance.”
Celestia blinked.
The what-now?
—————————
“And the lands around here are at peace?”
“Yes.” Twilight glanced at the table, wondering if the alicorn would send yet another table to the graveyard. Off to the side lay a pile of broken furnishings. Celestia would destroy a few of them, then resurrect a couple just to destroy them once again. Twilight didn’t say anything, but she couldn’t help but wince with every splintering crack as hoof met wood.
Celestia said nothing, but her countenance darkened like the ominous looming head of a savage thunderstorm.
“Perhaps it’s best if I handled it,” Twilight mumbled, gently easing the documents on the table away from the alicorn. The forms moved a few inches, then met resistive force as Celestia gave her a look and shook them free of her telekinetic grip.
“Despite my temper, I am considerably competent with paperwork, Twilight.” Celestia wrestled the papers back and read them in stoic silence.
In the quiet that followed, something occurred to Twilight, and she cleared her throat. When no response was forthcoming, Twilight tapped her hoof on the desk, trying to get the other alicorn’s attention. “Princess, I was hoping you’d answer one of my questions.”
Celestia glanced up from the documents, then slowly put them aside.
“Speak.”
Twilight bobbed her head slightly, hoping Celestia wouldn’t be prone to breaking another desk. “Why are you doing the paperwork?”
Celestia cocked her head. “Yes, I suppose you would find it strange that I would interpose myself in another world’s work, would it not?”
Twilight merely nodded.
Celestia cleared her throat, looking for once a little unsure of herself. “I suppose you are owed an explanation, this is your kingdom after all.” Celestia ran a hoof along the desk as she rose from it, coming around the table to confront Twilight.
“Do you ever feel fear, Twilight?”
Twilight frowned, not knowing where the conversation was going.
“…of course, Princess.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Not many in my kingdom would dare express that sentiment. To show fear is to show weakness, and there are none in my presence that are weak.”
Twilight shifted her hooves uneasily.
Celestia’s mouth twitched. “You have an objection to this?”
“Fear doesn’t always make you weak.” Twilight levelled a look. “Sometimes it makes you stronger.”
Celestia cocked her head. “Perhaps… but fear is what drives most of us.”
“That can’t be right.”
“No?” Celestia pointed to herself. “Do you feel fear that Celestia will disappear and that I will be the only alternative left?”
“W-What?” Twilight struggled with the question, feeling that the answer was loaded either way.
Celestia stalked towards Twilight, all the time holding her gaze. “Are you afraid of me, Twilight?”
The air crackled with tension as Celestia bore down the weight of a thousand years of ruling, channeling all the severity, the intimidating critical stare that Twilight had only seen once in her life… and it was never directed at her. Gritting her teeth, Twilight held her ground, staring Celestia back despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.
“No,” she said finally.
“No?” Celestia smiled wickedly. The foreign expression on such a familiar face was so disconcerting, Twilight was unable to find the words to reply for a few strangled moments.
“No,” she replied more steadily after gathering her reserves. “You want to get back. You need me.”
Reaching out, Celestia ran a hoof down Twilight’s neck, whispering into her ear, “Well in that case…”
Twilight swallowed thickly, wondering if she had made a mistake.
“You have me.”
Blinking rapidly as Celestia parted from her, Twilight let a cathartic shudder course through her frame. What was that all about?
“You have no need to fear my displeasure as long as you are competent, Twilight.” Celestia snorted. “I have made that clear several times in the past—” Celestia blinked and fell silent.
Twilight realised that this was the first time this Celestia had slipped. So far, in her mind, she had always imagined that this Celestia had firmly partitioned the two worlds, confidently keeping them both separate. Now it seemed that she was making an effort to do so.
“You asked me why I would do paperwork, despite, as I guess you would think, that it is not my duty here to do so?”
Twilight nodded, feeling like this was the pivotal point of the whole exchange.
“A Princess doesn’t show she is afraid, or her subjects will become afraid. A Princess feels no fear, is not afraid of anything, has no outward emotion but calm acceptance or, as circumstances dictate, bitter defiance. A Princess must be the bastion of strength her ponies would look up to when all has failed.” Celestia eyed Twilight from the side. “And what of a Princess without her subjects? What becomes of her reason to project strength, to project character, to be stalwart in the face of uncertainty, fear or danger?”
Celestia grew pensive. “A Princess is nothing without her subjects.”
Twilight stared at Celestia as she slowly sunk back down into the chair and stared at the documents. The fire, so boldly blazing moments before, was flickering in the dark uncertainty of her precious perception of reality. She didn’t belong here, and she knew it.
“How do you know a pony if you’ve never met them?” Celestia suddenly asked her.
Disoriented with the whiplash in the conversation’s subject, Twilight said the first thing that popped into her mind. “I-I suppose you’d ask other ponies that know them?”
“And suppose they would lie to you to protect that pony’s character?”
“I-I don’t think they would.”
“Oh? And ponies here never embellish the truth? Perhaps a friend or family member adding fanciful extras to a tale, to make it worth telling?”
Twilight shrugged, thinking of Rainbow Dash. “Not maliciously, though.”
“I would wager to say that ponies hide less in their writing than their speech.”
Twilight sighed. “Why are you telling me all this?”
Celestia smiled, but ignored her question. “Do you know, Twilight, that I despise paperwork?”
Twilight bit back the sarcastic remark that seemed to spring to her lips instantly.
“No, Princess,” she replied instead.
“Paperwork makes the greatest rulers a prisoner of their own ponies. I would never wrap myself in this sordid cocoon of bureaucracy, save that it is the mark of governance, of prosperity, and the secret lies in the parchment cogs of the contemptuous Courts. I may hate paperwork, but paperwork is something I’m proficient at, because it is necessary and my ponies would suffer should I neglect it entirely.”
Celestia rolled up a parchment and placed it on the desk. With lightning speed, her hoof came crashing down, severing the parchment in two and continuing past it to cleave the table in two. Twilight took a couple of surprised steps back, staring at the alicorn warily.
“Paperwork,” Celestia remarked mildly as she magically welded the pieces back together, “also keeps me angry enough to forget that every moment here I’m neglecting my duty over there.”
“The Resistance?” The tone was gentle, and her smile encouraging, but somehow it didn’t look like they were alleviating Twilight’s distress.
“Yes, they’re part of a radical faction that supports the Republic.” Twilight winced. “Not that I agree with that statement.”
“They see no need for alicorn leadership?”
“On the contrary, Princess, alicorns have always been a great symbol of unity and prosperity… but they do want to see less of them in governance.”
“I see.” Celestia thought about the implications and smiled. Maybe the stifling control of the other Celestia had bred desire for independence? She had, on multiple occasions, tried to dissolve the monarchy, then the diarchy of Equestria, but her ponies had vehemently opposed the idea. Who would have thought that being an autocratic ruler with a penchant for overbearing control would have solved that problem? The thought pleased her for a moment, before she guiltily suppressed it. It wasn’t a laughing matter now that she was the centre of it all.
“And are you alright?” Celestia intended the statement to show concern, but realised it could be equally insensitive.
Twilight looked indifferent, but Celestia sensed that she feigned a sense of painfully fraudulent casualness that was as transparent as pure ice… and was just as cold.
“Twilight,” Celestia whispered gently, “you can talk to me.”
Twilight’s expression flickered between pain and relief, betraying her inner struggle.
“I…”
“There’s no rush,” Celestia added. “Whenever you’re ready, you can confide in me.”
Twilight took a deep breath, her body settling into a decisive stance.
“I haven’t seen them for a while,” she admitted. “They’re mostly underground now. Although from time to time, when we track down some coded messages, I’m reminded that they live. That they live fighting you, and in extension, me.” She sighed. “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t want to support a lawful Equestria. We’re so much better off under your guidance, Princess. They can’t see that. It hurts that they don’t understand.”
Celestia didn’t know what to say. If she were honest with herself, she liked the idea of a Republic of Equestria. A republic would be where she could simply provide counsel and attend a few ceremonies whilst Equestria basically ran itself. The idea held merit. And the paperwork! She grinned. Much as she was proficient at it, it couldn’t hurt to dismiss them forever. She could be rid of everything. Instinctively, she wanted to make a change, but still… what could she say? Evidently, Twilight believed in this Equestria that the other Celestia built, and she doubted she had the right to pursue it. This was a conundrum that had no easy answer.
She shook her head. Technically, it wasn’t her problem. It was one thing to complete some of the technical paperwork of her other self’s universe in her absence, but another to delve straight into the politics and change them within. It was probably wise to leave as much as she could as is.
“Twilight—” she began.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
Celestia stopped short, seeing two familiar faces. Well, just before they bowed. It was hard to spot faces when they were mostly pointed to the ground.
“Flitter, Shade, what a pleasant surprise.” Celestia mentally rebuked herself. She probably shouldn’t have made two ponies in charge of the Celestial Guard, if she wanted to maintain things ‘as is’. She only did so when she was caught off-guard, vulnerable after her disorientating arrival. She heaved a mental sigh. What was done was done; the other Celestia could probably resolve the issue in due course.
But what might she change if she was in my universe? Celestia pondered the thought, then dismissed it. She didn’t have any evidence the other Celestia was on her world, though the idea was equal parts disturbing and entertaining. The other Celestia would certainly whip up a storm, but Celestia had faith in Twilight and Luna. They could handle the other Celestia. She hoped.
“How have you two been doing?” Celestia enquired. She knew she was dodging the issue of Twilight, but she didn’t know if she even had the answer.
“Excellent, Princess! Thank you for asking!” They both bowed deeply again. From the way they punctuated every statement with an upwards exclamation, Celestia surmised that it was a sort of military thing. Perhaps to show order and loyalty.
“There’s no need—” Celestia stopped halfway to delivering her suggestion to drop the half-shouting, when the two cringed, looking panicked that she would disapprove of anything they had done. Celestia waved a tired hoof. “Never mind, continue.”
Flitter came forward, markedly less confident than just moments ago, but still projecting a sense of bravado in the face of an imagined adversity. “We were on our way to organising your personal guard and training the new recruits.”
Celestia blinked in surprise. She assumed they were simply headed to bed, or were on patrol. “This late? When are you to sleep?”
Shade cocked his head. “Four hours are sufficient, in addition to the naps between shifts.”
Celestia frowned. “I don’t want guards exhausting themselves at my expense.”
“Of course not, Princess. We’ll be at peak performance, no matter when you need us.”
Celestia froze mid-nod, a sudden thought occurring to her. “I haven’t given you any duties, have I?”
Shade cleared his throat. “We haven’t been given explicit orders, no.”
Celestia cocked her head. “So what have you been doing all this time?”
Flitter grinned proudly. “Practising and training our guards in new skills. We want to be ready for anything, especially as part of your new, elite guard.” She suddenly looked apprehensive, as if the idea for her approval hadn’t crossed her mind. “W-We hope you don’t mind, Princess.”
Celestia smiled, hoping it would reassure them. “Not at all, I appreciate your initiative.” She wondered what they were up to. “I would like… an update of your progress when you’re done.”
“Thank you, Princess.” Again, they both bowed, looking both relieved and disturbed at her warm demeanour. It seemed to have the opposite effect, if anything they appeared more stressed by the minute. Celestia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, how could she convince these two that she would not snap at them? They probably expected her to grill them harder than the Badlands in high summer.
“No need for that,” Celestia added quickly, then clarified when they showed confusion. “Bowing takes your eyes off your surroundings, there’s no need to do it so often.” She cleared her throat, hoping the invented excuse was plausible enough.
Flitter shared a look with Shade as Celestia broke out in cold sweat.
She relaxed slightly as they nodded slowly, then vigorously. “Your advice is most wise, Princess. We will not make the same mistake twice.”
“Well, I wish you the best in your endeavours.”
“Thank you, Princess.” With a deferential bob of their heads, the dismissed pair trotted off at a brisk pace.
“You are very at home here, Princess,” Twilight remarked, after they had left.
She felt there was something more that Twilight wasn’t saying, but she could see nothing in Twilight’s guileless eyes.
“I have been leading for the better part of most of my life,” she replied lightly, continuing down the hallway. “It’s second-nature to me.” She even came close to fooling herself.
————————
After the table had been reassembled, and the paperwork resorted, Celestia shifted the topic.
“I would like to see the Courts.”
“No need to trouble yourself,” Twilight said hastily. Her wings flared for a split second, betraying her rising alarm. After witnessing the display of temper, on top of her other impulsive behaviours, Twilight wanted Celestia as far away from the Courts and the nobles as she could make her. “We’ll manage the Courts just fine.”
Celestia smiled in amusement, but failed to take the hint.
“I only wish to observe, I will not take control of the proceedings.”
Twilight quickly weighed the odds of persuading the belligerent alicorn to stay in one place, and failed to come up with a positive result. She tried, anyway.
“I think it might be best if you stay here.” She could feel her ears flattening against her skull. “It’s somewhat delicate if your policies don’t… match with ours.”
Celestia sighed, then raised an eyebrow. “I will not interfere, merely observe.” Her brow wrinkled slightly. “Though my behaviour so far may not have convinced you otherwise.” Celestia rubbed a hoof along her jaw, deep in thought. “Perhaps an oath, then?”
Twilight knew the word, but the context… “An oath?”
“Yes,” Celestia replied with an annoyed snort. “An oath, a spell-binding promise, would that set your mind at ease?”
“You mean to say that you would bind yourself to a magic promise just for this?” Twilight stared at the alicorn as if her coat was on fire. When Celestia merely met her gaze with placid decisiveness, suspicion in her heart crystallised into reluctant certainty. “Are you insane?!” She clamped a hoof over her mouth. “Sorry, Princess, I didn’t mean—”
Instead of being angry, Celestia looked impressed. “So you do know what a spell-binding oath is.”
Twilight’s reply was irate as it was terse. “I know every spell in the Axial’s Amniomorphic Anthology, but that doesn’t mean I’m crazy enough to use them.” Twilight sighed. “There’s no need to bind yourself with the spell, Princess. If you would like to come, you can come. Just promise me you won’t disrupt the Court.”
Twilight was expecting her to acquiesce immediately, but for some reason, Celestia hesitated. “You would prefer my word over a spell?”
Twilight tilted her head. The question was absurd. “Of course I would. What other pony would insist on the latter?”
Celestia didn’t reply to that, instead clearing her throat. “Well then, Princess Twilight Sparkle, you have my word.”
Twilight nodded and smiled at the monarch, surprisingly receiving a small smile in reply. As she opened the doors to step out, she realised that this was probably the first time that Celestia had referred to her as a princess, and the first time she had smiled genuinely, and she wondered what it meant.
—————————
The night air was brisk, and burned as she drew it into her lungs. Despite the sharp pain on inhaling, Celestia found the act brought a sense of clarity, as if the warmth of the castle had been stifling instead of welcoming.
Trailing behind Celestia, Twilight stood at attention, mute, but looking contented just to be near her.
“Twilight.” Celestia glanced at the eagerly waiting gaze of her formercurrent… her friend. “You don’t have to stand behind me.”
Celestia could see Twilight’s gaze twitch to some invisible pony-shaped space next to her.
“It’s free, you know.”
Twilight looked tempted, but finally shook her head. “Thank you, Princess,” she replied in a broken voice. “It means a lot for you to say that… but only a pony of your equal can stand there.”
Celestia felt a stabbing ache of loneliness, but stifled it under a tolerant smile. She wondered if the other Celestia felt that too. No, from what she heard, she wouldn’t think that self-obsessed mare would care for any but herself. Who would the other Celestia consider to be her equal anyway? She might not be here to answer that question herself, but there was somepony who could.
“Who would you say, Twilight?” Celestia tried to keep her voice steady. “Would be my equal?”
Twilight’s response was immediate.
“None.”
Celestia let out a pained sigh. Of course it was.
“Princess, is something wrong?” Twilight wrung her hooves, looking distraught. “Did I say something wrong?”
Celestia mustered up her composure, suppressing the impulse to lash out at those that deserved it the least.
“No, of course not, Twilight. Would you give me a few moments alone?”
Twilight hesitated, looking as if she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. She bowed deeply, then left her alone in the courtyard.
The sky was painted with hundreds of brilliant points of light. There were a scant few clouds, but it was mostly clear with the moon shining brightly overhead. She always found it painful to look at the moon, it always reminded her of her worst mistake. Here though, the moon wasn’t hers or even Luna’s, it belonged to a mysterious land that was similar, but different. She knew it rationally, she knew it logically, but the moon still evoked a deep poignant feeling of sadness that had barely faded with time.
—————————
After leaving the Princess, Twilight roamed the hallways, feeling lost among corridors and passages she’d known almost all her life. At this time, Twilight would normally be checking figures, cross-referencing sources and preparing for the next day. But the Princess had already done so, with astounding speed and accuracy. The next week—never mind the next day—had been filed, sorted, ordered, assessed and ruled. Twilight found it both impressive and flabbergasting.
The one thing she had prided herself on, her administrative mind, had been crushed thoroughly by the Princess. For a moment she missed—
No! She liked the new Princess. She was kind, strong and thoughtful. She was considerate, understanding and compassionate. She was…
Not real.
The treacherous thought had implanted itself in the back of her mind, worming its way to the fore insidiously. Frantically, she smothered it, as one would a spark before it triggered an uncontrollable inferno. The unicorn had difficulty processing her thoughts, they seemed to scatter as soon as she tried to marshall them.
“Twilight, a pleasant surprise.” Receiving reservation instead of response, Luna peered more closely at her. “Something is consuming your thoughts, is it not?”
“Luna, do you like the Princess as she is now?”
At the blunt question, Luna was taken aback. “I-I suppose so.” She glanced around. “B-But of course I would prefer my sister as she was before. Proud, strong and unyielding!”
Though Luna had declared the last sentence emphatically, she had an undertone of meek hesitancy that was at odds with her ardent proclamation.
Twilight bit her lip. “R-Right, of course.”
Within each other, they sensed a turbulent internal struggle, coming to grips with a sister, a leader, a mentor that had changed so drastically. Twilight paused for a few moments, waiting to see if Luna would add anything. The silence stretched on for so long that it was beginning to become painful.
“Well, I have the hallways to patrol…”
“And I should see to next… month’s work.”
As they parted, Twilight couldn’t help but feel she should have said more.
—————————
Twilight held Court in a business-like fashion.
“Next is the minor dispute over the licensing rights to…”
A snore filled the chambers.
“The licensing rights to—” Twilight coughed quietly. Celestia continued to snore.
Twilight cleared her throat impatiently, nudging the alicorn gently once more.
“Princess Celestia…”
The embarrassing snorts and lolling tongue did not really do much for her image.
“Princess!” Twilight whacked the sleeping princess on the horn.
“Wh-What?! To battle!” Celestia sat bolt upright, her horn flaring in preparation to cast a spell to level a castle.
Twilight recognised the distinctive glow and felt her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Instinctively, she cast a spell that would interrupt Celestia’s before it had a chance to go off.
Fortunately it worked. Unfortunately it worked.
The whining spell’s gathered energy dissipated itself in the air around Celestia, resulting in a minor explosion.
Boom.
“Unff—Have at thee, rascal! I shall tear you apart with—” Celestia blinked at her audience of shocked nobles, officials and various Court staff and servants. She straightened slightly, clearing her throat in the awkward silence that followed.
“Yes, well, do continue,” she said as if nothing had happened.
Twilight was beyond furious, her expression looking more at home on a teacher than a student, as Celestia was used to. “Princess, with all due respect, please leave.”
Celestia made to argue, but seeing the seething glare on Twilight, Celestia could only nod in dim shock. Eyeing the Court staff and nobles, and looking for once a little shame-faced, she left the room. As she plodded along towards the door, she tried her best to rein in her anger, though it was more at herself than anypony else. How unlike her to disgrace herself like this. She was mortified beyond belief. That said, she couldn’t help but admire the authority with which Twilight had delivered her order. Perhaps if she had cultivated such an attribute in her own…
In the adjunct room, Luna grinned at Discord while he threw up his claw and paw, with a disgusted look.
“What is going on here?” Celestia demanded. She glared at each of them in turn, making sure that she was brook no levity in their response.
“Sis—Princess Celestia, we hath—had been discussing what the… results of your presence during Court.” Despite it being well past her supposed time for retirement, Luna looked energised. She gave her a radiant smile. “We had a small wager.”
Celestia gritted her teeth. “On what, if I may ask?”
Ignoring her rising ire, Discord continued for Luna. “On when you’d call it quits.” When she merely stared at him, Discord rolled his eyes and added, “On how soon you’d leave the Courts.”
Luna grinned at the draconequus, raising an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, was your wager?”
“That she would not last five minutes,” Discord mumbled, looking increasingly maddened.
Luna laughed, looking at Celestia proudly. “And th—you had lasted much longer than that!”
“She was sleeping!”
“Sleeping counts, thou—you should have been more careful before placing the wager.”
Discord shook his head. “Alright, alright, have it. Take your earnings.” He snapped his claw, summoning a strangely glowing sapphire gem. Luna took the gem and tucked it away, grinning at Discord.
“You were having levity at my expense?” Rather than angry, Celestia was intrigued, the notion that these two would dare risk antagonising her was an idea that warranted consideration.
Luna shrugged. “It was a bit of harmless fun.”
“Did you not contemplate the fact that I may take offence to that?”
“’Tis only a jest, Princess Celestia. No harm is meant by it.”
Discord stretched languidly and yawned. “Even the other Celestia could take a couple of jokes.”
“Jokes? I do not understand the concept of somepony enjoying the experience of being made the expense of.”
Discord mumbled something, but evidently decided it would be too much of a pain to explain, and disappeared in a flash.
“That is an annoying habit,” Celestia remarked. “He simply comes and goes as he wills?”
“Yes, sis—Princess Celestia, our Discord may lack manners, but he is reformed, he wouldn’t intentionally try and cause harm…” Luna frowned. “At least I don’t think so…”
“Then perhaps you should allow me to return him to stone, I’m sure—”
“No, no, no,” Luna said quickly. “That’s quite alright, Princess. No need for that. How about you retire for the night? I will keep guard in your dreams.”
“That is your duty here?” Celestia looked surprised.
“My duty?”
Celestia shrugged. “To keep guard over dreams. I thought I was the only one who did that.”
“Sis—Princess Celestia, you may not have recalled, but I have had that duty before…”
“Before what?”
Luna swallowed. “Nightmare Moon.”
“Oh,” Princess Celestia shook her head. “Then perhaps it is yet another difference between the two worlds.”
Luna cocked her head at Princess Celestia. “If I may ask a question…?”
“You may.”
“Why is it that you seem more subdued today?”
Celestia didn’t answer immediately, her eyes wandering the walls before she returned Luna’s look. “It is complicated, Luna. This land… it seems so peaceful, so less rigid than my world. My responsibilities are minimal. I feel… at ease here.” A momentary flash of anger surfaced. “I feel weak!”
“Not at all,” Luna whispered. “I feel as if you’ve traded your physical strength for something more.”
“Falsehoods! You are saying I am diminished in strength?” Celestia rounded on the alicorn, forcing her to step back. “And what does that mean?!”
Luna, this time, did not back down. “It means what it means, Princess. I merely speak the truth. Will you not be charitable and learn from your temporary stay here?”
Celestia searched Luna’s counterpart for deception, but could not find a shred of artifice in those clear, blue eyes. Troubled, Celestia turned away, wondering how mere copies of her world could find such strength in such weak convictions.
“I see.”
But she didn’t.
————————
Celestia was aware of another presence in the gardens.
“Come out, no need to hide yourself. I know you are there, watching.”
A familiar, yet repulsive shape loomed out of the darkness.
“It’s me, Benny.”
Celestia stared at the human. He looked apprehensive, as if he expected a scolding the likes of which he feared to imagine. Or so she thought, he could simply be masquerading the emotions, to lull her into a false sense of security. She felt as if this human was a cauldron of treachery, why else would he do all that he did?
“No answer, huh? I guess I deserve that.” He paused as if expecting a reply, but when she denied him a response, he moved on, as if speed could fill in the painful chasm between them. “It’s come to my attention that I’ve made a grave mistake.”
Celestia continued to stare at him, letting her impassive expression do all the talking.
He swallowed audibly before continuing. “I know I’ve said some things I’ve deeply regretted, but I’m happy to tell you that I’m working on a solution. You just have to give me a week.” He flinched, raiding his hands. When she did nothing, he lowered his arms.
“What? Say something. Please.”
Celestia tilted her head slightly, her look of indifference shifting to that of a disappointed frown.
“Look, I’ll get you back, I promise. Just trust me, please.”
Celestia continued to stare at him. He threw up his hands.
“Talk to me! Say you understand! Say that you hate me! Say that you want it all to be over! Say that you forgive me or condemn me! What do you want from me?!”
The courtyard rang with his words, fading into the bitter silence of the night. Celestia sighed, shaking her head.
“All I want is an apology from you, but you failed to even give that.”
“What?”
Celestia glanced upwards to the sky. “You’re so desperate for a reaction from me, what does that tell you?”
“That I care?”
Celestia pinned him to the spot with a glare so intense he almost forgot to breathe. A hand moved to his chest. “It means you don’t even consider me as something worth apologising to. I’m a toy, a pet, something to poke around and play with.” Her eyes welled with disgusted pity. “You must be so broken.”
Silence reigned between them.
Then her eyes hardened, stabbing straight through the thin veneer of his casual demeanour, and piercing through to his heart. “But do not expect forgiveness like it can bought and sold with mere words. You just want to assuage your own guilt by banishing my part in it. I will not be a crutch for your self-esteem. If you truly want to make amends you would have approached me when you had a solution, not promises.”
Celestia straightened, with great authority, she glared down at the pitiful human. A creature she had once been taken in, had once admired his mystique, was corrupted to the core.
“I would very much like to go back to my own world. Until you can make it happen, do not see me again.”
The sentence had a frightening finality to it. Benny could not help but acknowledge that the decree Celestia had made was not an order, but a judgement. He would not escape unscathed if he played with her life so casually again. Reluctantly she could see, he nodded, but a disturbing smile graced his lips. He disappeared, fading away into the night. Though she had made her position clear, she had no doubt she would see that human again.
Amongst the various inscriptions, diagrams, geometric shapes and calculations etched into the floor, was Twilight Sparkle, Bearer of the Element of Magic. Right now, she didn’t feel like she represented magic at all.
“Why isn’t it working?!” She grabbed a book, ready to hurl it at the wall for the sweet, sweet, cathartic release. But those who knew Twilight knew she would never damage a book simply to relieve some stress.
Twilight glanced down at the covers of the book, wondering if there was any merit in trying to read even more about the seminal text on Transfigurational Susceptance as a Function of Thaumokinetic Sublimation within the Spatial Context Volume III. No, she didn’t feel like reading any more. She really wanted to throw the book at the wall, though. She sighed. She wouldn’t do it.
“No matter how much I feel like it.”
“Feel like what?”
Twilight glanced up, spotting Luna by the door.
“Ah, nothing, Princess. Just talking to myself.”
Luna frowned at the intricate formulas and equations describing, it seemed, space and time itself. Looking at the vast complexity of the work undertaken, she found herself lost, even as she herself was no novice in magic.
“Twilight… how long have you been working on this?”
Twilight shook her head and yawned, a few mane strands floating down to cover her eye. She blew them out of the way with a frustrated huff.
“A few years,” she finally answered reluctantly.
“A few years?!”
Twilight nodded. “Well actually, a little before that. It was a passion of mine to kind of create something similar to the ground-breaking teleportation spell.” Her eyes lit up with sudden passion. “Think about it, what if we could visit other worlds? Parallel worlds? Alternate dimensions? Realities different from our own? What would it be like?”
“We—I-I mean I’ve never thought about it,” Luna stammered back. “But ’tis a splendid concept.”
Twilight nodded emphatically. “Barring the fact that the other Celestia basically forced me to pursue this, I’m having fun. I almost abandoned this line of research as impossible!” Twilight chewed her lip in consternation. “Though… it certainly still seems like it now.”
Music filtered in through the window, startling Twilight from her calculative reverie.
“W-What? What’s that sound?”
Luna sighed, a hoof dragging across her face.
“That would be my dear alternate-sister deciding to throw a parade in her own honour.”
“What?!”
“Yes, she decided, mostly by herself I might add, that there should be some sort of celebration to welcome her, since she was the equivalent of a diplomatic guest here.”
Twilight gaped at the other alicorn.
“Yes, that was my expression too, when I first heard about it.”
“Aren’t you going to stop her?”
“It was much more preferable than her suggestions in Court.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“She challenged a petitioner to a duel, then set the floor on fire. I don’t know how she set stone on fire, but I wouldn’t want to try.”
“She set— She challenged—”
Luna shrugged. “’Twas not such a pain. I took merriment in watching some of the Court nobles do a spit-take with some of her comments. We’ve—I mean I have taken a liking to how blunt she was to some of them. Of course I’ve had to swear some to secrecy, but the fire—” Luna giggled softly “—is mostly contained.” Luna sniffed. “Do you smell that?”
Twilight glanced out the window in consternation.
“Are those fireworks, or just plain fires?”
——————
By the time dawn had arrived, Celestia had found herself in the city. After her encounter with Benny she was left bitter and angry at her own inability to overcome the situation. Though she had a good grasp of magic and its intricacies, approaching a problem of the magnitude of traversing universes was all but impossible. Perhaps there was a solution to the problem, but Celestia didn’t know where to start. The library wasn’t there, Twilight seemed to know more about running a kingdom than herself, and her sister… wasn’t her sister. In fact, none of these ponies were ponies she knew. It would take a kind of extreme arrogance to assume that these ponies would help her, just because she bore resemblance to somepony they knew.
But what choice did she have?
To clear her head, she had taken to wandering around the castle grounds. When that was exhausted, she gradually ranged further and further away, until she eventually reached the gate. The guards bowed respectfully as she passed, not saluting like the ones at home. Taking confident steps, she strode out into the city, acknowledging the guards with a tilt of her head. Noting their startled demeanour, it seemed the guards weren’t used to the Princess recognising their effort. It was yet another thorn that prickled Celestia as she paced along. The other Celestia, how could she be so different?
On the surface, much looked the same.
The city was clean and tidy, still exuding the austerity and bustling magnificence that surrounded the castle on the side of the mountain. It was picturesque, something you’d expect of a city founded more than a thousand years ago. The new and the old combined together in a dazzling diorama of decadence that boldly showcased the ancient seat of Equestrian power.
It was beautiful and familiar.
However, it was different.
Even in the wee hours of the morning, she expected early-risers to pop their curious heads about, yawning and greeting the new day with bright eyes and sweet smiles. It was sparse in a way that was disturbing. Like finding oneself in a clinical anteroom rather than a homely cottage porch. Around her, she saw various small flags of colour, deep red and blacks that she had spotted from inside the castle.
The streets were deathly quiet. Several times as she had strolled down the path, patrolling guards in armour that looked more grim than the usual fare of her world’s own stopped as they spotted her in the distance and immediately rushed over. Seeing her, though, and recognising her, they immediately pulled up, bowing to her before immediately returning to their route.
She hadn’t the chance to ask them what they were patrolling for, but instinctively, she thought she might not like the answer. Still, the question tugged at her, and as the third patrol to spot her almost turned to leave, she stopped them with a cough.
“Princess?” They both bowed deeply once again. How she was growing tired of that.
“Are you part of the royal guard?”
“Guard?” They stared at the floor resolutely with their heads bowed, but the confusion was evident in their tone no matter how they tried to conceal it. “No, Princess.” From the quiver in their voice, they sounded as if they were trotting amongst shards of glass.
“You need not keep bowing to me,” she said gently. “You’re not in trouble.”
She saw the flitter of uncertainty in their eyes and Celestia sighed inwardly. She was growing rapidly tired with their reaction to the other Celestia, but she was not angry at them, but rather insulted at the very idea of a ruler inspiring such fear in their subjects. It irked her to the core.
“How may we assist you, Princess?”
Celestia decided to get straight to the point. “Why are you patrolling?”
Again there was the shared look, but this time more on edge.
“Is this a test, Princess?”
Celestia shook her head. “No, no,” she assured them both quickly. “No test.”
The guard on the left, looking less greener than the other, decided to answer her charge.
“The curfew you instated, Princess.” A bead of sweat visibly trickled down his forehead. “As one of the measures against the Resistance.”
Celestia straightened. “Between you and me, soldier, who is part of the Resistance?”
Again there was that slight pause. Celestia smiled serenely, trying to put them at ease. Nothing she could do or say, though, could banish their anxiety. They probably thought she was interrogating them under suspicion of treason. With a start, Celestia realised her thinking had gradually grown accustomed to the other Celestia’s persona. The thought was roughly pushed aside as the guard tried answering her charge.
“W-Well,” the right one started, but was cut off by the left soldier, who rattled off a report in a businesslike manner.
“Publicly, we know of several citizens of Equestria that have joined with the Resistance. Recently, a rise in prominence has been attributed to the seditious pretenders who claim to be the Elements of Harmony. Several times they have tried to gain access to the castle, to try and get in contact with the Royal Attendant.”
“Attendant?”
“The Royal Attendant Twilight Sparkle, Princess.”
Celestia’s expression cleared as she nodded. So that was Twilight’s formal title. It seemed to match her actions so far. She clicked her tongue as a thought occurred to her.
“Twilight? Why?”
The guard shrugged. “They claim that Twilight Sparkle is the last ‘Element bearer’ they require to complete a powerful spell. So far we have diligently protected the castle and Attendant Twilight from various incursions.”
Celestia tilted her head. “Incursions?”
The guard straightened and clarified. “Snatch and grab ordeals, but she is safe as your faithful Attendant, Princess.”
The Elements of Harmony? Twilight? Of course… but how would they know? Twilight hasn’t been to the academy, hasn’t initiated the cascade of events that led to the unity of her friends. How did the Resistance know? And weren’t the Elements in my possession? They were locked in a vault until I moved them to the Castle of the Two Sisters…
“The Resistance seems to believe in a ‘divine destiny’, or so I’ve heard, Princess. Apparently a prophecy predicts the, erm… downfall of your rule instigated by none other than Twilight Sparkle.” The guard shifted on his hooves. “Though such hearsay is blasphemy. The only true lasting harmony is by alicorn rule. There is only one way.”
The guards seemed to be drummed in with the ideal to follow blindly the other Celestia under the pretence of harmony.
Seeing her pause in reply, the other guard quickly added, “And Twilight Sparkle would never betray you!”
No doubt the legend of the Elements were enough to bolster confidence in the Resistance into stealing them. Or perhaps the other Celestia never paid heed nor used them. How did she trap Discord, then? Was Harmony really achieved here?
The right guard glanced at the castle sighing. “However, as always, it seemed the Resistance was playing their dirty tactics against the honourable Empire again. After you had… left, Ms. Sparkle’s parents were tricked into thinking that the Resistance had merit.”
“Not that there was any basis for that, Princess!” The left guard exclaimed, as he caught her expression. The right guard saw her mistake and quickly rectified herself for good measure.
“Absolutely delusional!” she stammered.
Celestia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m not angry at you two.” She was more annoyed by the fact that the two mistook her for the other Celestia. But she couldn’t explain herself to them, they likely wouldn’t understand, besides, the information she got from them seemed to be more than either Twilight or Luna would be happy to give. She felt the two, though her closest confidants, were holding back some key information. This was a way to get it.
“Hmm, I wonder if you could ask you about…” She trailed off as a third guard rounded the corner.
“Private Silver, Private Mettle! Where have you two been, you were due to check in—“ The rest of the words died out as the severe-looking officer stopped in her tracks.
“Celes—Princess!” She straightened, half saluted, stopped midway in the execution and bowed instead. “Princess Celestia, Sergeant Dash reporting for duty, ma’am. I mean Princess.”
Celestia tilted her head. “Rainbow Dash? What are you doing at Canterlot? Didn’t you live at Ponyville?”
Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened in a manner that looked as if she were on the verge of unbridled panic.
“How did you know my na—I mean, yes, Princess!”
Celestia silently berated herself. Of course Rainbow Dash wouldn’t know her in this world. She shouldn’t make that assumption. The poor pegasus was flustered to the point that she was stumbling on words and etiquette. Under her curious gaze, she quailed slightly.
“H-How can I be of assistance, P-Princess?” Rainbow asked tentatively.
Watching her carefully to see if she would bolt, Celestia pondered whether she should attempt to calm the pegasus down, or simply carry on. In the end, curiosity got the better of her and she decided to dig a little deeper. What did Rainbow know about the state of affairs in the kingdom?
“You are, of course, aware of my… condition?”
Rainbow appeared confused. “Condition… Princess?”
It seemed like Rainbow was unaware that Celestia was not the Celestia they knew. That did make sense with the way Twilight and Luna were treating the situation as a secret. Possibly a State secret. Rainbow, though, was waiting for an answer and Celestia decided to keep things as they were, as there was no need to let it be known.
Celestia shook her head. “Never mind.” The rest of the city bore exploration, there would be time yet to uncover the mysteries of this land. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you in your duties, I simply had something on my mind.”
Rainbow’s shoulders, tight as they were, suddenly sagged with relief. Once again, the tense bearing and wariness of these ponies grated at her very fibre. Sure, she wouldn’t expect love and adoration of her subjects, and these were not her ponies in multiple senses, but it somehow felt unfair that they would be directed at her. It was like being blamed for a crime she had never committed.
“Thank you, Princess.” They didn’t move from the spot. For a while, Celestia, Rainbow and the two other guards, Silver and Mettle, stood there looking at each other.
Rainbow cleared her throat apologetically. “May we be dismissed, Princess?”
Celestia almost let loose a self-reproaching laugh. “Of course, you are free to return to your business.”
Sharing a glance with each other, Rainbow and the other guards bowed deeply and trotted away. The carefully measured timing of their precise march couldn’t conceal the palatable relief in their stride.
As the trio retreated, Celestia thought about returning to the castle. Although it was early morning, the rest of the castle would soon be awake, and she hadn’t a wink of sleep. A sudden feeling of exhaustion crept up her legs, threatening to overcome her, but she suppressed the feeling with a yawn and by stamping her hooves smartly on the cobblestone road below.
Around her, the city was still quiet. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Feeling a slight sense of foreboding, Celestia headed down the road that lead towards the station, hoping to find out more. It was not long before she passed a ubiquitous alleyway, and with a double-take she realised it was the same passage that lead towards Benny Bakery.
Biting her lip, she strode forward, noting that the shop wasn’t there. Instead a small cottage-like house squatted in the same position. Though the premise looked nothing like a store, a small sign hung over the frame, proudly proclaiming the residence as ‘Agatha’s Antiques.’ The unusual name held the same charm that Benny’s Bakery had exuded and Celestia was drawn into the shop, her legs feeling like they moved on their own, rather than by her own volition.
Instinctively, her hoof rose to the door, knocking on the wood.
“Hello?” she called out. “Anypony home?”
A crashing sound that sounded like a stack of pots and pans had fallen oven resounded from the inside. Muffled cursing and the sound of clanging metal echoed out into the street.
“Be there in a jiffy!” an elderly voice cracked with age replied. Some more crashing could be heard before the door swung open and a wrinkled face leered out at her, confirming Celestia’s suspicions. It was another human.
“By the aether, it’s you!” she cried out, stumbling back. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Celestia blinked at her. “For what reason? Who are you?”
Hearing the curtness of her reply, the human shrunk back. “Sorry, sorry, where are my manners? My name is Agatha. I run this humble little store. Though it may not seem much to you, it’s actually a link between—”
“Different universes? Realities?” Celestia cut in.
Agatha stood back, holding an aged hand to her chest. “By golly, you got that right, dear one. Quite so. How did you know?”
The way the old lady was addressing her, reminded Celestia of the seniors she’d met from time to time. Though Celestia didn’t look terribly young, she didn’t look old, either. If one were to place her age as a pony, she’d still look under thirty. The tendency for other ponies to call her ‘dear’ or ‘miss’ still occurred once in a while, although her age was several hundred times their best guess.
As for the question… well… now was the time to obtain some answers.
“There’s another human here, Benny. He trapped me here.”
“Benny…?” Agatha tapped a wizened finger to her chin as she frowned in thought. “Ah yes, the troublemaker.”
“Troublemaker?”
“Yes…” Agatha seemed to remember herself. She patted down a dress embroidered with mystical symbols and faded silver hems, as she gestured towards the inside of her shop. “Do come in, do come in.”
Hesitating for a moment, Celestia decided she had nothing to lose and stepped inside. The interior was nothing like she anticipated. Instead of pots and pans, or even antiques, the inside was a glossy white, with glass tables, stainless steel chairs and various mirrors hanging on the walls. The clash of expectations left Celestia agape at the sheer difference.
“I’m glad you like, my dear.” Agatha cackled at her expression.
Annoyed, Celestia managed a rueful pout. “My dear? I’m at least a couple thousand years old, you know?”
“Pah! And I’m several hundred times that, dear.” Agatha bustled over to a shelf that seemed to draw itself out of the wall. Reaching into it, her arm disappeared into the recess that seemed too shallow to allow that kind of exploratory retrieval. Again, this mysterious human seemed to be able to harness magic at will. It boggled the mind.
“First time seeing a compressed drawer, then?” Agatha pulled out a plate of what appeared to be cookies and set it on the glass bench beside it. “Ah, where’d I put the steamer? Dinky little thing has a mind of its own, let me tell you. After I gave it intelligence, it was always ornery…”
Celestia prompted the conversation, wanting to get back on track. “About the human, Benny.” She couldn’t keep the venom out of her reply.
Agatha straightened at the tone. “Dear me, the boy has really Murphied it up right now. What’s he done, though?” Taking the plate of cookies and a kettle that couldn’t seem to keep its lid on, Agatha headed over to the two stainless steel chairs that Celestia could see her face in and sat down. She indicated the free seat, which Celestia reluctantly took.
Taking a deep breath, Celestia spelled out the circumstances from her meeting with Benny, all the way to realising she was in a different world, then her two separate clashes with Benny coming back.
Listening to it all without a comment, Agatha only interrupted when she realised there were no cups to pour the tea into. At the end, she only sighed.
“I’m sorry, Celestia, that must have been quite an ordeal.”
“You’re one of them, right? A human too? Can’t you send me back to where I belong?”
Celestia instantly recognised the look of painful sympathy etched into Agatha’s countenance. Her hopes turned to bitter ashes that coated her tongue and made it hard to swallow.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I do not have the power to do that. This is something only you can decide.”
“Me?” Celestia shot to her hooves. “What do you mean me?! It was you humans that did this to me in the first place!” Celestia took a calming breath, forcefully clamping down on her rising ire. “I am asking you to please help me get to where I belong. Don’t you think if I could do that by myself, I would have tried?”
Agatha ran her fingers through her hair, the fingers going through the white mass as she licked her lips. “Celestia, what you must understand is that what we are prevents me from interfering. Benny made a mistake, yes, but according to our laws he has a right to make amends on his own.”
“Disregarding the fact that he sacrificed a ruler of a country to do so?!”
The old lady gestured firmly to the seat again.
“Sit. I know you are angry, but please listen to what I have to say.”
No less reluctantly than the first time, Celestia once again took her seat.
“Now, I think it would be best to start from the beginning.” Agatha took a deep breath, then fixed Celestia with strident eyes.
“There once was a race of beings called humans. They started on a hellish rock devoid of life and slowly grew from our roots after enduring many trials. It was a race that proved superior through intelligence, focus and determination to outlast every other creation in a bid to survive. They did it to conquer the natural environment and then later to conquer each other.”
Here Agatha paused as Celestia stared at her, dumbfounded. It wasn’t a foreign concept, competition. But the way Agatha had talked about it, seemed so clinical. Like it was inevitable that there would be fighting, like there was no end in sight. Celestia was enough of a realist to know that the world wasn’t ideal, but she still liked to believe that everypony, no, any creature with a reasoning mind had the ability to cooperate. To know that harmony was better than chaos.
But she knew the world had its quirks, and her along with it. It wouldn’t do to be shocked, but more disappointed by what could have been. A wry smile graced her lips. If one spent too long ruminating of the past, it would be trapped there while the present whisked by.
Agatha, took a sip of tea that appeared in her cup. The fragrance of an unknown flower, or perhaps herb, wafted in the air around them.
“Ahh… so where were we? Ah yes. Somehow, through a combination of luck, or perhaps dogged defiance against the moulding hand of Nature, humanity saw fit to improve beyond their means and reach out towards the heavens themselves.”
Agatha put her hands together, meshing her fingers together with an intense look.
“Humanity succeeded. They were able to go and reach out further and faster, in an ever expanding circle of influence that encompassed their known universe. But do you know what they found?” Agatha sniffed, flicking a hand. “Nothing. The universe they inhabited was empty. It was a lonely experience. Once again, the gilded hand of Nature stayed their voracious appetite. Tired, frustrated, and not knowing what else to do, they sought to break out of the mould once again by exploring a new place. They found none but what they themselves were to create.”
Agatha waggled a mocking finger. “Tick tock, the steady march of time was slowly exhausting their resources. Bit by bit, the humans realised that what they took for granted was becoming ever more scarce. Tick tock, the end was coming for a species who thought themselves so advanced.” The old woman tapped a finger on the desk. “With nothing but years to look forward to, why wouldn’t you seek something else to occupy your time? Is not the tedium of life so wearying? Tick tock.”
Celestia knew the feeling. In the dark, between the hours, she was ashamed to admit that there had been a longing… an inconceivable feeling of wanting something more. Though Celestia maintained her silence, Agatha smiled as if she knew exactly what Celestia had thought.
“Exactly. And so humanity solved its problems quite ingeniously. It was decided that a rebirth was at hand. Where each would inhabit the mortal world once again, but in a different form. To have the infinite kaleidoscope of experience, but the reassurance that their undying self existed in that higher plane. Preserved, somewhat, from the slow march of time.” Agatha pointed above and laughed when Celestia glanced upwards instinctively. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“So you’re saying that…”
“Goodness, me, no. Not all of you. Not even some of you. One is given to one. One world for each. Or more if they can afford it. But here is where it gets complicated. Ethics, you know, was such a hard concept to grasp for a human. I believe every life form struggles with this intangible framework. Humans apparently more so than others.” She sighed. “So the trouble comes to Benny and his strange, strange sense of life. He has, as you have correctly surmised, been playing with your world. Unfortunately, according to our laws, he has the right to do as he pleases, as long as he abides by the letter of the law. We aren’t perfect, but perhaps that is something you would not like to hear, given the circumstances, no?”
Celestia frowned at Agatha, trying to judge whether she was telling the truth, or spinning another elaborate lie like Benny had. If Agatha was telling the truth, it was even more horrifying than she even imagined. Whole worlds simply the plaything of a facetious human? Her existence merely to satisfy the wanton abandonment of a higher power? Celestia gritted her teeth. It almost felt as if their struggles had all been worthless. At the very least, they could just leave them alone!
“So why aren’t you like him? In fact, why are you in this world? I thought you had a ‘one to one’ policy.”
Agatha laughed. “This is my world, what are you saying? Although I have none of Benny’s wild fantasies of glitz and glamour that he has. I have a strict non-interference policy. I can’t break that, no, no, no.” With an airy wave of her hand, she dismissed the subject. “Benny made a mistake. A visit is a visit, no more, no less, and what he can do, he will. He will try to make amends, that he will do.”
Celestia couldn’t place her faith in that assumption. Benny wasn’t to be trusted. Celestia got the feeling that, unlike Agatha, Benny revelled in the ‘mistake’ he had made. His apologetic stance was merely superficial. Pursing her lips, Celestia tried to make her case without putting the human off. After all, Agatha seemed to believe that Benny had made a mistake, and though her actions seemed contrived, Celestia recognised the faint aura of cautious observation that lay underneath all that.
“So, you won’t help us, then?”
“That, I won’t do.”
“But there is something I can do?”
Agatha smiled. “Oh yes, there is something you can do.”
Getting up in a smooth movement that belied her age, Agatha headed towards the back of the room.
“Wait there,” she called back. “I won’t be long.”
Celestia stayed in her seat, lost, in many more ways more than one. A sense of impotence overcame her. She felt as if she were in a courtroom, awaiting the slow fall of a gavel. Was there nothing she could do to resolve this herself?
Agatha returned before Celestia could go any further with her thoughts.
“Here.” She passed over a familiar black box that seemed to warp the very essence of light around itself, drawing it into its fathomless depths.
“This…”
“It’s how we live,” Agatha explained, in answer to the question floating on the tip of her tongue. “Well, partly anyway. As the inexorable waltz of time moves us closer to demise, fewer and fewer of us are able to be supported. This—” she tapped the box “—is what determines whether one should continue or not.” Agatha chuckled. “Active involvement is required. Tend the garden you’re given. Like a game, hmm? The more you play, the longer it continues, the longer you survive. Our instinct is very strong with regards to that.”
Agatha pulled back the box.
“There is a way to end it prematurely, though. One human cannot touch this… box without breaching our laws, but creatures of our garden can. After all, the thrill of death is one form of entertainment, no? Though ethics dictate one human shall not touch another, these… creations bear no impact whatsoever.”
Celestia was right all along. These humans had never intended to help at all. They viewed her and her subjects as mere pawns in their games.
“Though I can make you aware of this object’s existence. I can’t compel you to do anything to it. You must find a way to… cause a disturbance.” Agatha smiled a grin so feral, Celestia inadvertently shifted back in her seat. “Well, now, that concludes the time allotted. Unfortunately, you may not see me for a while yet, don’t bother trying to contact me.”
Agatha stood up from her seat, shuffling to her door. She gestured out.
“Of course,” she said in parting, as Celestia passed the human, “you may choose your own path. That in itself, is also part of the game.” She chuckled. “But I think you will try. What care you for Benny the human?”
With that, the door swung closed with an ominous thump that echoed deep in her chest. Celestia stumbled away a couple of steps and glanced back.
The store was gone.
Haunted by the conflicting thoughts, she dimly noted that the sky had turned a bluish-grey.
“W-What?” Where had the time gone?
“P-Princess!” It was Twilight Sparkle. She noted, with equal parts relief and disappointment, that she hadn’t any wings. “You’ve been gone for almost a day, I’ve been so worried!”
Celestia looked around, confused at how the unicorn had managed to find her without prior knowledge of her destination. After all, Canterlot was a big city.
“How did you find me?” Celestia asked in bewilderment.
Twilight shirked at the question. “U-Uhh, I was close by, Princess! Yep. That’s, uhm—” Twilight flinched at the stern look Celestia gave her. “N-Nothing! It’s nothing!”
Celestia sighed. “You’re tracking me somehow?”
Twilight cringed at the accusation, but made no attempt to deny it. “Well… it was for your own safety, Princess! When you disappeared off the face of Equestria, we sent out search parties and… and…” Tears welled up in Twilight’s eyes. “We were so afraid that you had disappeared again!”
Celestia, though a little irked that she was tracked, softened when she saw how distraught the unicorn was. No doubt it had been beyond stressful to suddenly disappear again. Not when she’d ‘come back’ after so long.
“It’s alright, Twilight.” Celestia sighed. “I won’t be leaving for a while.”
“Really, Princess?” Twilight perked up. “N-Next time w-would you tell us when you’re leaving?”
Celestia blinked at the unicorn. “Of course,” she said easily. “I don’t have many places to go, for now.”
Twilight sagged in relief.
Celestia tilted her head in mild curiosity. “Were you expecting me to say otherwise?”
Twilight hesitated, then decided to plunge forward. “W-Well in the past you never let anypony know when you were going or when you’d be back.” Twilight attempted to smile, but it wobbled and died away. “It never happened before, so I’m glad you’re letting us know now.” Twilight shifted her hooves. “I-If it’s alright with you, Princess, would you mind telling me where you’ve been?”
Celestia weighed the odds of Twilight believing that she’d met two humans in the course of nearly twenty-four hours.
“Sorry, Twilight, it’s a little complicated. I will tell you later.”
Celestia felt a stab in her heart at the wounded expression of Twilight’s disappointment. She shook her head, seemingly to dismiss the thought.
Twilight cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re feeling more like yourself.”
Ouch.
“You’re just in time to oversee some of the preparations.”
“Preparations?”
Twilight nodded, breaking into a proud grin. “Yes, for the war.”
Celestia nodded, trotting a few steps forward before the nonchalant words of Twilight sunk in.
“I think the crowd has been largely pacified,” Luna reported, her wings fluttering automatically to cool off from all the rapid flying she employed. Twilight could see the heat radiating off the wings in a mesmerising mirage that almost distracted the alicorn from the catastrophe before her.
Almost.
“And I think most of the fires were localised to patches of grass, though I’ll contact the Canterlot mayor and inform her of the damages,” Twilight muttered in a weary voice. She couldn’t even work up a wry tone to convey the irony of the Princess of the Sun bringing darkness due to the pall of smoke from a messy bonfire in the centre of the town. It was only just clearing up.
“You two worry about such trifling nonsense,” Celestia called out from the top of the float. It had decorations of the sun and such. “I recall no injuries—“
“Yet,” muttered Twilight. “There are still fires.”
“—And no property damages—“
“Apart from the grass and a small bush. Oh and let’s not forget a fountain. How did you set fire to a fountain?” Twilight’s retort fell on deaf ears.
“—And we all had a merry time.”
“Except every pony there!” Twilight snapped. She stormed to the Princess and locked eyes with her.
“While you are here,” Twilight began her tirade through gritted teeth, “you are to act as any guest would, with respect and dignity! I would expect no less from another ruler!” She punctuated the last statement with a stomp in the ground so violent it caused cracks in the cobblestone. The realisation that the action had added to the litany of damages only further served to make her more agitated.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Well, I must admit that there were certain liberties taken, but this was surely my right—“
“No it was not,” Twilight cut in, pressing her lips so tight she thought blood would never flow back there again. She took a forcibly calming breath, counted to ten, and then tried again.
“While we do not like to fight or bicker or yell like you supposedly do, don’t mistake that for weakness.” Twilight glared at the alternate Celestia that, for once, looked moderately worried at the turn of events. “If anypony, and I mean anypony, got so much as a scratch from your antics, then I would not hesitate for a second to remand you in custody.” Twilight paused for a second to make sure the point had sunk in. “Forcibly, if required. Am I understood?”
Celestia’s mouth groped for the words. After a moment of collecting herself, a little of her defiance inched back into her eyes. “I will not—“
“That is it! I’ve taken all I can take with you!” Twilight picked up the alicorn bodily with her magic as Celestia flailed in the air like a tortoise on its back.
“Unhand me! Guards! Guards! Put me down you purple-speckled prat! I will rain terror the likes you’ve never imagined on thou lame-brained confounded excuse for a sovereign pillock—!”
Luna trotted up alongside Twilight as Celestia yelled archaic-style threats and slurs in their direction much to the surprise of the wide-eyed soldiers and staff that ringed the courtyard. Several ponies cleaning up the remains of the wild ‘celebration’ were treated to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness the Princess of the Sun being roughly towed along by the Princess of Friendship. Judging by the periodically annoyed shaking and excited yelling, it also seemed Celestia was being generously provided with an extra serving of friendship.
One stallion thought, What good friends they were.
Another, Why didn’t I stay in the Griffon Kingdom?
Yet another, Is that a spot fire near my house?
All valid viewpoints of a tumultuous series of events.
In a low voice, Luna addressed the pretty freakin’ livid Princess of Friendship.
“Set her down,” she said gently, “it is not her that is bothering you so much.”
Twilight continued a few paces more, each step successively less filled with anger, and then eventually stopped. “She’s gone, Princess.”
Luna nuzzled the top of Twilight’s head. “Not for long, dear one.”
“I’m trying everything I can think of, but it’s not enou—“
“Of course it is, you are trying harder than anypony I know alive.”
“What if—“
“No, there are no ‘what ifs’,” Luna shot back sternly. “The path ahead is made more arduous by the forks you make in it yourself.” A ghost of a smile graced her lips. “My sister would often tell me that.”
Twilight cut the magic off, taking a small amount of guilty pleasure in hearing the other Celestia hit the pavement below face-first.
“She would tell me that too.” Twilight heaved a hapless sighed, trying to put away the nagging doubts about her inadequacies. Those feelings wouldn’t help save their Celestia. And taking it out on this Celestia was merely thinking of the problem, rather than the solution. No matter how good it felt.
Twilight gave Luna a self-mocking smile. “You’re right. Let’s… deal with this Celestia.”
The other Celestia was just getting to her hooves as Twilight and Luna turned towards her. Twilight, feeling a measure of guilt, stepped forward, but was stopped as Celestia raised a hoof in reply.
“I realise that you may want to apologise, but I will not let you,” Celestia said through clenched teeth.
Twilight furrowed her eyebrows, but otherwise did not say anything, sensing that the alicorn wanted to add something further.
“I may have… overstepped my bounds here.” Each word was toned as if she was engaged in a mortal struggle to force them out. She proceeded onwards, trying, with difficulty, to frame the next words by the way she frowned and stamped at the ground in agitation. “Please forgive my… reckless behaviour. It was certainly… unbecoming of a Princess.”
“Do you have anything to say in your defence?” Luna said calmly.
“None,” Celestia sighed, “save that I was overcome with the compulsion to act out of character. I would never indulge in such wanton abandonment of protocol.”
Twilight cocked her head, considering what Celestia said. “So you do not throw these sort of festivities in your country?”
Celestia straightened, her bearing proud and stalwart, every bit the same as the Celestia that had greeted them first time they had met. “No, never, with the exception of dignitaries that made requirements of us. That was a rare enough occasion as it was, I wasn’t much for diplomacy.”
“That’s obvious,” Twilight muttered, but below her hearing. Louder, she said, “So why did you do what you did?”
Celestia’s frown deepened, if that were possible, and Twilight noted that her posture shifted from deferent, bordering on meek, to guarded and suspicious. “Some fanciful notion overtook me. I simply felt the need to do it. Although such a thing would normally never manifest itself as a desire.” She stamped a hoof. “Such indulgences wouldn’t befit my station.”
“Well, I can see that from her… colourful personality.” Twilight glanced at Luna. “That sounds like a spell.”
“A spell?!” Celestia rounded on Twilight, her eyes filling with dangerous determination. “I will cleanse the fool that dares try such a paltry assault on my personage!”
Twilight held up a hoof in an effort to calm her down. “That hasn’t been established… yet. If you would permit me, I would like to cast a detective spell.”
Celestia smirked at Twilight. “Ah, but it seems like you didn’t require my permission before lifting me bodily in the air.” She grinned at the reddening visage of Twilight’s growing mortification that she had used her power as a result of losing her temper. “Though I will not say that was such an unwarranted course of action in the circumstances.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight got out. “Now I will cast—”
Celestia shook her head slightly, interrupting Twilight’s spell casting. “What manner is this detective spell?”
Twilight blinked at Celestia, dumbfounded that such a basic spell was unknown to the princess. Luna spoke before Twilight could gather her wits. “It is a simple spell, sis—Celestia, that identifies the spell cast on any entity. If there is enough of a ‘residue’ that is the leftover energy from a compulsive spell that we intend to uncover, then we may be able to track it back to its origin.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “In essence, you might be able to find the culprit with this convenient spell?”
Twilight shook her head. “If they are still in the area, maybe, although it is unlikely. The spell only reveals the location of where it is cast. Very useful if the time between casting and the effect being noticed is very short, not so effective when it has—”
“—Been applied for the duration of the time I was under this influence, I see.”
Twilight nodded stiffly.
“I gather from your expression that you may not believe my tale of compulsion?” Celestia smiled. “Don’t look so surprised; it is written more plainly than an instructional tome of magic. Cast the spell on me.”
Twilight complied, firing up the required spell and quickly casting it on the alicorn. In moments, she gasped. “What is this?”
Celestia cocked her head. “What is it?”
Twilight shook her head. “No source.”
Luna sighed. “So perhaps you were the one deceptive then—”
“No, no,” Twilight cut in, “there is definitely a spell around Celestia, but it isn’t a compulsion spell and there is… no source.”
“That can’t be right,” Luna said, “every magical construct has a source.”
Twilight stared at Celestia. “It’s telling me there’s no source. It just… exists.”
Luna leaned in closer, her horn glowing. “May I?”
Celestia, looking intrigued more than anything, tilted her head. “You may.”
“Strange,” Luna murmured under her breath, but just loud enough for Twilight to catch, “the composition of the spell is entirely foreign. Nay, it is more accurate to say that it is not a spell but rather some form of energy constructed around your body.”
Celestia glanced at her body. “Disturbing.” Her mouth twisted in either confusion or disgust, Twilight couldn’t tell. “Can you discern its purpose?”
Twilight tapped a hoof on her chin, then circled around Celestia her horn glowing almost rhythmically as multiple spells were cast. Her scholarly curiosity had taken over and she barely registered the alicorn speaking. “It seems like the spell, no, the construction is tied specifically to—oh!”
Luna reared back slightly and blinked. “Twilight, did you feel that?”
“The energy,” Twilight muttered, “it’s no longer there.”
Celestia tossed her head, her mane dancing around the movement. “That’s impossible.”
“Actually—” Twilight got no further.
“What is that?” Luna cried out.
“That is exactly what I wish to know,” Celestia replied with a grim look.
Standing at the doorway to the meeting hall was a creature unlike any they had ever seen.
“Hello,” it said.
———————
“The war,” Twilight said brightly. She looked back when Celestia failed to come up with an answer. “Oh, Princess, uhm, the war is just short for war games. It is simply a competition that you had established a while back to assess the talent and outstanding individuals within the Empire.”
Celestia sagged in relief.
Seeing the movement, Twilight frowned briefly, then her expression cleared as she let out a nervous titter. “Oh, s-sorry, Princess! I didn’t take into account your… condition. You might have thought it was a real…” Twilight trailed off, cheeks ablaze with her perceived error. “There’s no war! I promise!”
“Well, I’m certainly relieved that there isn’t a war,” Celestia replied gratefully, licking her lips. A thought occurred to her. “There hasn’t been a war recently, has there?”
“Absolutely not, no!” Twilight said quickly. “Not since you have pacified the surrounding nations. They no longer cause any trouble, under your benevolent guidance.” Twilight stopped briefly, opened her mouth as if to say something, then shook her head. “No, not yet,” she mumbled more to herself. Louder she said, “So, it’s not a problem!”
“Hmm.” Celestia didn’t like the sound of it, but chose not to pursue the topic. It would probably only cause her to become ever more frustrated with how the other Celestia operated. “So what do these… war games achieve?”
“Similar to the right for combat during a Court petition, the war—I mean—war games allow competitors to easily prove their ability for various roles in both Civil and Military service. Central Recruitment deals with normal advancement, but this is a special occasion that doesn’t require an actual war to prove one’s worth.” Twilight smiled at her in adoring way that was at odds with the foreboding topic she had been explaining. “As expected of the Princess, it is a good solution.”
“I’m… glad.” She wasn’t, but it wouldn’t do to be upset with Twilight over this, it wasn’t her fault a maniac was on the throne. “They will be expecting to see me there, won’t they?”
Twilight pursed her lips. “It would be unorthodox if you were not.”
Celestia considered whether or not it would be okay to simply abandon the duty imposed on her and whether it would be worth pursuing the topic of the humans once again. Of course, Twilight and Luna did not believe they exist, at least, they did not believe her at the moment.
Celestia certainly didn’t trust Agatha. Whilst seemingly kind and courteous on the surface, Agatha had the presence of a viper waiting patiently to strike. Her offer to help was a thinly-veiled attempt to use her as a pawn for her scheme.
But without the intervention of Agatha, Celestia didn’t know the first thing to do in order to summon that capricious creature, Benny.
Celestia had the feeling that if she tried to show Twilight or Luna proof of their existence, the humans would simply find a way to scurry beyond her machinations to entrap them. Despite first appearances, the humans seemed to be powerful entities. Celestia had seen them casually teleporting with no evidence of a spell, being able to bend space at will, and apart from the obvious signs of ageing (which seemed more cosmetic than physical) had been around longer than Celestia herself had.
So Celestia, regretfully, decided to keep quiet about the topic of humans. If she were to find a way out of this mess, it would require her own doing.
Twilight led her down the path towards the castle. Thinking back, Celestia asked Twilight a question that had been weighing on her mind.
“Twilight, do you know what the Elements of Harmony are?”
Twilight blinked at the querying look sent her way. Her blank look revealed almost as much as the following statement.
“Uhh, no… I don’t believe I have.” She dismissed the subject with a flick of her hoof.
Celestia immediately knew that Twilight was lying. If she were telling the truth, an element of curiosity would have been left over after earnestly searching her memory. That would have been Twilight’s normal response. However, the unicorn answered immediately and without reservations with a detachment that was unnatural.
Celestia waited a few more moments to see if Twilight would add anything else, but the pony merely continued on the path in silence.
“Okay then,” Celestia mumbled. Yet another mystery in this world of mysteries. It seemed like the Elements of Harmony was known by Twilight, but she was keeping a secret. That was unlike her.
She decided to press the matter instead of letting it drop. It was a habit, she realised, to just let things go. Now was probably a good a time as any to press for answers. After all, the walk to the castle was fairly long, and Twilight seemed to forget the convenience of teleportation that she could impart for them all.
“Twilight,” Celestia began in a low voice so that the surrounding contingent of guards wouldn’t hear, “there’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there?”
Twilight didn’t look like she wanted to answer, but a steady application of encouraging staring was wearing her down. The most effective motivator, Celestia reflected, was a spectrum of emotions, although unfortunately, disapproval seemed to be Twilight’s weak spot. In both worlds.
The unicorn took a big breath. “Okay, Princess, I do actually know of the Elements of Harmony, but it was purely historical in perspective!”
Celestia kept silent, letting the sharp quiet wedge its way towards the truth in its own effective way.
“Okay, and I might have heard them from the incident reports as well…” Twilight turned away guiltily. “Every time one of the Resistance shows up, they try to convince me that I have some kind of destiny. Something that links up a group of ponies that ‘bear the Elements of Harmony’.”
Twilight let loose a dry chuckle. “Of course that’s just a seductive lie, right Princess?”
Celestia tilted her head. “I don’t know about this world, but in my world, you were a prominent student with a destiny that would change the very nature of Equestria. You were a force of good, defending from threats within and without and ensuring the peace and safety of the citizens in your domain.”
Twilight blushed, looking more tomato than pony for a brief moment in time. “I-I— you flatter me, P-Princess, but you don’t have to make me feel better—wait, did you say my domain?!”
She looked curious, despite herself, Celestia mused.
“You were—are—a Princess there.”
“No way—!” Twilight squeaked. She let loose a surprised laugh. “I-I’m a p-princess?! That’s impossible.”
Celestia smiled. “With all you’ve learned and experienced, you were able to bring forth a new type of magic and become a princess.”
Twilight looked nervously excited. “W-What sort of magic?” She licked her lips in anticipation. “Was it an advancement in transport, or weather-working or defence or logistics—”
Celestia laughed. “You were the Princess of Friendship.”
Twilight’s expression froze, then it sagged. “O-Of course.” She chuckled half-heartedly. “T-That was a good one, Princess.”
Celestia glanced back at Twilight, horrified to see a disheartened expression pulling down her cheeks.
“Twilight, I’m being serious. That is what you were.”
Celestia caught her mistake a little late. Are! Are! That was what you are. I meant! Not for the first time, she wondered if being here so long was starting to erode her mind. Knowing the instigator, it might be entirely possible, and the thought wasn’t appealing in the slightest.
Twilight smiled faintly. “I’m glad you included me in your wonderful fantasy. Perhaps I would be a princess in a faraway world…”
Celestia reaffirmed her own faith with a simple statement.
“Don’t worry, if we ever get the opportunity, you won’t just know, you’ll see it.”
————————
The strange being walked forward with stiff movements that betrayed old age. It walked with a gait that was weary, but filled with purpose. When questioned about its strange form, the creature mysteriously replied that it was ‘currently a human’. When they asked where they were going, the creature only said ‘not far’. Eventually, the creature led them to the Canterlot gardens.
“Why are we here?” Celestia demanded.
The being frowned looking at Celestia. “You’re not supposed to be so aggressive.” It peered at Celestia for a few moments. “Ah yes, yet another example of their meddling…” It shrugged and continued on. “Insufficient information.”
Twilight’s eyebrows creased with the effort of trying to discern whether the human’s voice could be categorised as male or female. Its form and movement were… shapeless. Bland, one would even describe it. Twilight was nagged by an intense curiosity.
“Would you mind explaining to us what you mean by that?”
The ‘human’ sighed. “Even if I tell you that it would be difficult to comprehend, you are unlikely to accept it, right? I’m not even supposed to tell you. Yet another obstinate parameter. Acceptable. I have some time to explain it to you to foster cooperation. Listen, please.”
Confused, Twilight and Luna nodded slowly, while Celestia just frowned at the human. She held her tongue, though.
Surrounded by hedges, the human peered around as if there was a danger of somepony listening in. Confirming something to itself, it nodded, then it drew out what could only be described as an incredible box. It was made of the blackest material Twilight had ever seen. Sitting there, it seemed to suck the light out of the room, with the darkness and shadows accentuated by its very presence.
Shaking her head, Twilight posed the question that was on the tip of everypony’s tongue.
“What is that?” Twilight breathed.
“Something you must obtain for me,” the human said with a cough. Its gaunt cheeks and a sallow pallor gave it a sickly feel. “I am the Administrator. An autonomous entity designed to overlook the simulation project which you are currently a part of.”
“Simulation?!” Twilight exclaimed. “You mean—”
“No,” it interrupted with an impatient gesture. “And yes. You are all real, there is no question about that, but the original intent was to replicate multiple worlds in microcosms.” It made a sphere-like gesture with its fingers. “Each world was designed to house the same initial conditions. The aim was to definitively provide the answer to one of the most ancient questions there was.”
Luna clicked her tongue. “Which was? The meaning of life?”
It chuckled in response. “No, no, nothing so grandiose. Simply whether there was such a thing as ‘free will’. Oh and also another objective, but you are not authorised to know.”
It bent down, suffering from an acute coughing fit. Twilight rushed forward, but her hooves were gently warded off. “Sorry, sorry, I am fine. What ails me is simply a sympathetic construct that was originally designed to prevent me from interfering.” The human straightened stiffly. “This world, among others, is what we have deemed a ‘garden world’. It was meant to be under protection from external influence.”
“So the mysterious shop and this ‘Benny’…”
“Deviants,” it hissed. “They are polluting the original design. They must be dealt with.”
The black box was held out, but nopony was inclined to touch it. “This thing helps these interlopers to travel from world to world.” The ‘human’ cocked its head. “Although you all seem to natively possess the same means as well. It is serendipitous that we have met. A mutual beneficial agreement may be made. Query: Will you help?”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “You can help us travel across worlds?”
The Administrator laughed drily. “No, this is the extent I can interfere. Also, they are aware of my presence. Also I am limited in my functionality. Also I am only able to exist here for this short period of time before correction measures are executed. You must find a way to separate them from their control modules—” it hefted the box “—and stop their unauthorised modifications.”
“What does this have to do with my displacement and the other Celestia’s?”
The Administrator glared at Celestia. “Very little. At least in their minds. Or so I have concluded after extensive calculations. They are only looking for a way to have fun. As long as they possess these control modules, they cannot be ejected! Frustrating. Such is privilege! Blame the creators.”
“I’m finding this hard to follow,” Luna muttered.
“Of course, garden world natives. Hard to understand abstraction. Understood.” The Administrator took a deep breath. “Your two worlds have been infiltrated by external entities. They look like me. They are human. These external entities have been interfering with garden world project with only one goal in mind: to have fun.”
“Well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Luna commented dubiously.
“Perhaps you can sympathise when I tell you of the type of boredom that arises from several thousands of years of isolation. Humans do not cope well. You creatures, less so. Imagine what you might be willing to do if forbearance is strained to the limit? Hmm? Perhaps do things you’ve never tried before? Perhaps play a prank? Perhaps be a little mean? Perhaps… commit a taboo?” It clicked its tongue. “Bugged. Defective. Source code violation.”
Twilight shuddered. “Why would anypony do that?”
The Administrator smiled thinly. “Why indeed? But such an answer is not within my knowledge base. It is up to you organics to find the answer.” It shrugged. “My job is to maintain order.”
“But, but to play with lives so casually—”
The Administrator nodded at Twilight. “That is why you must stop them. They are a cancerous growth. With time, more will come. You must prevent them from entering into your worlds.” It tapped the box. “Find this. Bring it here.” It pointed to a patch of grass growing alone in the corner. “This is a designated point for me to access. If you leave the box here, I can dispose of it. Deletion. Acceptable parameter.”
Twilight nodded. “But how will we get our Celestia back?”
“Perhaps in a few hundred years you can develop your own technology substantially to do it yourself. Of course, you are forbidden from moving between worlds. The stranded entities must perform it themselves. Unauthorised access denied. Elevated permissions required.”
“Why?!” Twilight shot back hotly.
“You are agitated? I speak logically. Application rules state that external influences are not allowed. Will you allow the same sort of travesty these meddling humans have cause on your world to repeat? Strange. Illogical. Typical organic view.” The Administrator shrugged. “If you try, I will be forced to stop you. Or maybe not, the parameters of my order may change with the evolution of your species.”
Celestia held out a hoof to stop Twilight from retorting. “If we concede this, will you tell us of a means to recover the box?”
The Administrator shook its head. “Sorry. Out of parameters. I can only advise that it will not be so guarded if you pretend to play along.” It frowned. “Although that in itself is a risk. Or so I calculated. Inference incomplete.”
Finally, it glanced at the sky. “I am unable to continue further. I wish you luck, goodbye. Connection terminated.”
“Wait—“ Twilight began, but when she blinked, it was gone. One moment it was there, the next, it was gone. Twilight wondered if the humans had such a frustrating trick. She hoped not. “Great, now what do we do?”
Celestia smiled at Twilight. “Isn’t it obvious? We obtain a black box. What was it called? A control module.”
“So you wish to help the Administrator?” Luna queried.
Celestia smiled again, but Twilight noted how devoid of warmth it was. “Oh, I didn’t say that.”
The mood was like the moment before a lightning strike. With bated breath, the collective mass gathered as an audience, quickly filling up the stands. The Arena was the staging grounds for the first event, but it was a rather minor one. The new Captain of the Guard had taken the initiative by gathering the best and brightest from the Empire’s towns.
Even amongst the ponies there were griffons and dragons and other creatures. It seemed the Empire had territory outside of what Celestia had previously considered Equestrian borders. In a hastily-described series of explanations from Twilight, it seemed the map of the world where Equestria resided had been redrawn with expanded territory covering most of the Northern reaches, including Yakyakistan and the Crystal Empire, to the Eastern lands across the sea incorporating an annexed Griffonstone and the Southern deserts and tribes.
It was then that Celestia found out the reason Equestria had not been in war for so long.
The Badlands, previously a former battleground during Celestia’s reign, had been scorched clean by what could only be described as a rolling tide of malevolent magic. Celestia was sickened to hear how the weather had been manipulated to bring scorching sun or chilling snow in an attempt to drive dragons and griffons from forming a beachhead. Magic had been used to make the land barren, so logistics and supply would be a nightmare to behold. Even roughest and toughest of creatures, dragons, finally surrendered, when Celestia had personally pacified the Dragon Lair.
It had been a bloody and unforgiving thousand years. It was no wonder the Celestia of this world was both revered and feared.The whole affair made Celestia nauseous. Many times, Celestia had almost given into the temptation of ignorance. She almost told Twilight to stop, so that she wouldn’t hear of it. But turning a blind eye to the past was what robbed a pony of their future, so Celestia listened to the sordid doings of her alternative past.
If this Celestia was capable of all this, would she herself—essentially the same in all but action and personality—be too?
The thought was not so much as confronting as downright terrifying.
“Sister?”
The calm voice of Luna broke through the maelstrom of her thoughts.
With a disgusted grunt, Celestia broke away from the anticipatory atmosphere suffusing the Arena. “I’m not sure I would like to do this.”
Luna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “The ponies expect it, sister. This is not an affair you would normally miss.”
Celestia felt like her soul was leaving her body with the wistful sigh exuding from her lips. “Luna, I’m not the Celestia you know. It’s difficult to imagine, but I do not enjoy violence. In fact, I abhor it.”
Luna looked at her as if she told her the sun moved on its own. “Impossible, sister. You live for war.”
Though she had deep wells of patience, Celestia was reaching the end of her rope. A very frayed rope at that.
“Luna, how could I convince you otherwise? I am telling you the truth, and even I am getting tired of explaining it again and again.”
Luna played with her hooves. “As you say, sister. And I would like to believe it, but I cannot. The explanation is too fanciful… and the only other is…” Luna swallowed and studied the Arena with great interest.
“Is that I’m crazy?” Celestia stated more than asked. She raised an eyebrow. “But I’m rational, reasonable and in full charge of my faculties. If I have a delusion it is very specific and its not like it’s impeding my everyday activities.”
“One would argue,” Luna retorted meekly, but with flared nostrils, “that avoiding such events would be an impediment to everyday activities.”
Celestia blinked at Luna, then rolled her eyes. “Equestria, as I have found, generally governs itself while I’m away. Both you and Twilight handle most, if any, issues that find their way into policies, procedures, petitions, politics, and any other p-flavoured monstrosities the Court comprises of!”
Luna cringed at the outburst of emotions as Celestia tried her best to take a deep breath and calm down.
“I apologise, sister, for agitating you so.”
Celestia wondered if her temper was increasing. Was it the effect of this world? Was the environment somehow influencing the way she thought and acted? She decided, for the sake of her sanity, to blame the outburst on stress.
“Sorry, Luna, it was my fault.”
Luna straightened slightly, accepting the apology somewhat reluctantly. “Sister, I’m worried about you. Your former self would never apologise. She always stated that actions reveal one’s true self and that apologising was like dismissing the significance of your choice to act.” Luna eyes raked the stands, in search for something that wasn’t physical. Celestia suspected that the difficulty came from reconciling her former perception of her sister to the replacement she had now.
Except, Celestia had to remind herself, that she wasn’t a replacement.
Twilight entered the cordoned area, nodding to the guard stationed there. It comprised of the new Captains of the Guard, Flitter and Shade. They stood at the ready, with relief units flanking them. It appeared that they were taking the job quite seriously.
“Princess, I’m pleased to report that everything is in order.”
“Good,” Celestia replied half-heartedly.
Twilight paused at the less-than-enthusiastic reply and glanced uncertainly at Luna.
Luna coughed. “What my sister means is excellent work, Twilight.”
Twilight smiled and bowed slightly. “All in the name of the Princess.”
Luna coughed lightly once again. “And the Empire.”
“And the Empire,” Twilight hastily added.
Celestia took no notice of the interaction, her mind running through the list of spells she held in her internal compendium. It was a comprehensive codex of sorts, with each spell relating to use case and theory, instinctively summoned more than consciously recalled. She struggled to remember the theories on interdimensional time ellipses and space warping and the such. The fundamentals of teleportation, as it were.
Twilight tore her eyes away from Celestia and trotted to the front. Celestia continued to all but ignore the unicorn as she summoned a megaphone. Twilight made some announcements and commenced the war games, but Celestia was less than interested in that. Instead, she summoned a book, and began reading. The more she engaged with the world, the more she would be drawn into its intrigue. She wanted to avoid that.
Even though she was absorbed in the depth of the academics of dimensional theory, a few snippets of the conversation between Twilight and Luna still made their way through her studious concentration.
“The Princess is reading during the war games; that’s never happened before.”
“But look, the entrants are also equally disturbed, but it looks like some of them are taking it upon themselves as a challenge to attract the Princess’ attention. Perhaps it is all within my sister’s plan?” Luna’s reply carried a hint of uncertainty.
“Oh? Is that dragon going to use fire?”
The Arena lit up a brilliant yellow for a split second.
“Indeed, Twilight, that was unexpected. Oh look, that pony was hit by the blast. Ah, foolish, to protect a downed ally. Do they not know that will end in tragedy?”
Loud clashes, screeches and grunts could be heard.
“Princess, I think they are forming temporary alliances!”
“Oh, I have not seen such a twist of parlance since the beginning!”
“Her friend’s been separated, looks like they’re going to deal the finishing blow!”
Celestia’s eyebrow twitched.
“Is that pegasus serious? She’s diving down at phenomenal speeds!”
“It would seem so—oh!”
This time, the explosion was deafening and Celestia had to put down her book. She made it just in time to cop a face full of rainbow.
“That’s…” Twilight was at a loss for words.
“What was that?” Luna muttered.
“A Sonic Rainboom!” Celestia shouted springing up from her seat. Without thinking she leapt to over the railings, wings spreading.
“Princess!” Flitter and Shade both called out after her as Celestia landed on the platform. They, and the retinue of guards, flung themselves out after her.
“Princess!” Twilight called out. She hesitated, her hoof inching over, but Luna held her back.
“Are you sure, sister?” Luna shouted towards her.
“Sure about what?” Celestia frowned. “I’m just here to talk to—”
A hoof swung in her direction. It was barely blocked by a guard with a resounding clang!
Luna’s voice carried over the shocked silence.
“Sister, if you enter the Arena, you are part of the participants!”
Celestia froze in shock.
The crowd went ballistic.
“N-Never before had the Princess taken part in the games,” Twilight reluctantly called out in the megaphone. “What will happen now?”
“What are the rules?” Celestia yelled desperately.
“As usual,” Twilight hesitantly announced in an ill-disguised reply, “there are no rules.”
Celestia narrowed her eyes. She figured that would be the case.
The guards were loyal to her, it seemed. The other participants had gathered into a loose mob. While they were fighting in a sort of free-for-all, they now were united in a front against the newcomer, who happened to be Celestia and her retinue of guards.
“Stop fighting,” Celestia declared, “I will not fight senselessly.”
The participants hesitated.
“Neat trick,” a husky voice called out, “but we won’t fall for it, Princess.”
It was Rainbow Dash.
“Why did you use a Sonic Rainboom?” Celestia asked her.
Rainbow looked surprised. “Is that what it’s called?”
“Yes,” Celestia said impatiently, watching the other contestants edging their way to encompass her and her guards. “Now why did you use it?”
Rainbow glanced at an injured participant, a frail-looking pony, she hardened her expression before replying somewhat nonchalantly. “No reason.”
Celestia already suspected why, but kept silent. Like Celestia, Rainbow was eyeing the rest of the contestants whilst protectively guarding the pony on the ground.
“Last chance,” she called out to the rest of the participants, “let me leave in peace and you will too. I simply wanted to ask a question.” Unexpectedly, there was no response from the assorted mob.
Rainbow frowned at Celestia. “No pony is allowed to leave the Arena once the war begins.” Her stance stiffened. “You either win, or…”
Celestia dodged the incoming magical blast of energy that was partially deflected by her guard.
“Or you die trying,” Rainbow finished grimly.
“Forgive my failing, Princess!” A guard spluttered.
“You are a disgrace! You let a measly—” Shade growled. Before he could get any further, Celestia cut in.
“Enough,” Celestia said, “there’s no time for that. The others aren’t giving up. We need a plan.”
“I suggest we systematically eliminate the contestants,” Flitter answered immediately.
Celestia tightened her lips. “Rejected.”
The gathered guards almost turned their heads in surprise.
“May I ask why, Princess?” Shade asked, just loud enough for the guards to hear.
“These creatures are my subjects. No harm shall befall them because of me. Especially because of my misdoing.”
Shade was silent for a few moments. “Then… what are we to do, Princess?”
“We end this in a different way.”
———————
“Do nothing.” It was a simple command, but the guards around her did not look too pleased.
“Princess, we cannot leave you unprotected,” Shade put in, his voice taking a tone of pleading.
Celestia dismissed his concerns with a flick of her hoof. “I will settle this myself. I am hardly a stranger to combat.”
The words rang true, even if the perception was distorted. Shade and Flitter were forced to accede to her wishes by virtue of her counterpart’s violent legacy.
“As you wish, Princess.”
Despite it being necessary, Celestia didn’t like the fact that she relied on any aspect of her alter ego’s persona. It felt morally ambiguous. This whole thing felt morally ambiguous.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Celestia said in response to a twitching movement from her periphery. The figure started in surprise as Celestia swept around her with an iron gaze.
Celestia eyed her opponents carefully. They were studying her just as closely. To the left were a minotaur, a griffon, two unicorns and a pegasus. To the right was a teenage dragon and three armoured earth ponies. Contrary to the rather decorative armour from her own world, the armour here was serious. The surface dully reflected burnished steel and brass. Each step forward brought the sound of clanking metal on metal. Celestia tried to ignore the ominous sound provoking mixed feelings about the situation she was in.
Instinctively she knew, if she tried to retreat, they would attack. For now, they were locked in a stalemate.
“While we are standing here,” she called out to the mob, “let’s have a chat.”
She hoped it wouldn’t be seen through as a thinly-veiled attempt to stall for time. She kept her tone casual and her posture as relaxed as she could, though the shivering of her left fore hoof threatened to undo her careful arrangement.
“We know the conditions of entry, Princess. It is all or nothing.” It was the dragon that replied, his eyes fixed with steely determination to win.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Celestia shot back. “You have a chance to walk out of this unharmed. I will even consider this competition moot. I simply wanted to talk to one of the competitors.” Even as she said the words, she knew it was a mistake by the way the atmosphere grew in tension.
“Everything relies on this moment.” The griffon that spoke tightened her claws as she flared her wings. “If I don’t win, there’s nothing left for me.”
Taking advantage of the distraction provided by the griffon, the dragon made the first move. In an explosive movement, the dragon dove towards her. Reacting instinctively, Celestia summoned a powerful shield that deflected the outstretched claw. Without missing a beat at the rebound, the dragon breathed fire, flaming directly at the breach. Celestia could tell the flames weren’t going to reach her, but she knew there must be something more to it.
Seeing the ploy for what it was, Celestia shot two bolts into flames, gratified to hear the sound of the two ponies charging through the flames sigh and sink to the ground.
The dragon grimly acknowledged his downed comrades, dragging them back hastily to a safe distance. Celestia didn’t pursue. She glanced to the side, but the other contestants were content with simply observing the first exchange of blows. It was a smart move, considering.
The dragon patted the two ponies, but they would not wake.
“What did you do to them?” he demanded more than asked.
Celestia met his fiery scowl with a placid look.
“Sleep spell,” Celestia replied, shooting a warning shot at the encroaching griffon. The griffon paused, and took a step back. She glanced at her companions and wisely stayed put.
“I can use more powerful spells, you know,” Celestia said mildly.
The dragon barked a harsh laugh. “Only the first round and we face the Princess? What kind of joke is this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you it was a genuine accident?”
The dragon shook his head. “The Princess of the Empire wouldn’t make mistakes like this.”
Celestia simply sighed. “If that is what you want to think.” With a flash, she disappeared. The audience, even though some had seen this trick before, still gasped as Celestia appeared at the other end of the Arena, in an area devoid of participants.
“Say I didn’t make a mistake. What is the reason I would choose to come down here and participate?”
Silence greeted her as the disordered contested reoriented themselves quickly to face her.
“I don’t know!” the griffon shouted. “All I know is that I have to win, even if I have to fight Princess Celestia herself! Last one standing. That’s the rule from the beginning.” The griffon pointed to the words written along the sides of the arena. It was written in the Ancient Equestrian Script, one of the first languages developed for common usage among the three tribes when they united. It was in the form of a simple stanza ringing the arena. The translation was thus:
All those who enter in combat,
The one who stands above all,
Shall confer the right of ascension.
Although it had lost the flavour of rhyme and cadence, the script still vaguely confer its original intent. But the wording itself was ambiguous, so it seemed that the participants were interpreting it to their convenience. Ancient Equestrian Script words had different meanings in different contexts with even the order of the words mattering. One could surmise that the script was saying the last one standing, but really, the one who stands above all, could easily be translated to, the supreme conqueror. A title rather than a condition.
Was it really last one standing, or was the script something to mock the participants with?
Celestia glanced back at the guards who collectively looked tense, though not from being attacked. They seemed to be worried for her safety. If she were to win as the last one standing, wouldn’t it mean she would have to face her guards?
Drawing a little close to Flitter, she leaned in.
“If I were to do defeat the remaining contestants, what would the guard do?”
“Yield, of course. We could not lay a hoof on her Highness’ personage. We will submit.” Flitter glared at the guards around them. “I will make sure of it.”
The mob of contestants had also withdrawn to the other side of the stadium. They seemed to come together in agreement. Most likely they realised that the biggest threat was Celestia and that beating her collectively would give them a greater opportunity. If they decided to fight amongst themselves, they would suffer a defeat as Celestia picked them off one by one.
From their constant vigilance, they were probably both surprised and grateful that Celestia hadn’t made a move as of yet.
But Celestia was thinking of a different thing.
“Hail,” she called out. It was an archaic way of parlay. She wondered briefly if this still applied.
The participants stiffened and turned around warily, seeing if anypony dared make the first move.
“Hail,” the griffon called out in reply. It seemed the griffon was put in charge of being the leader, as the dragon was tending to the other two ponies. Throughout this whole exchange, a light murmuring had been flittering through the crowd, but the noise cut out as the mood turned anticipatory.
“I am proposing a suggestion.”
“Another?” The griffon raised an eyebrow and sat on her haunches, throwing a claw out. “What is it this time?”
“I’ve scanned the writing on the walls and there is another way other than last one standing.”
“Oh?” This pique her interest.
Celestia pointed at the writing. “Though the second line suggests in a way that it is the last one standing, it doesn’t specify how.”
The griffon creased her brow. “Well the accepted way is through combat, isn’t it?”
Here Celestia smiled. “Twilight,” she called out, “what was the original intention of the war games?”
She heard fumbling of the megaphone before Twilight answered her in a surprised voice. “To demonstrate the talent and abilities without having to go to a real war.”
Celestia nodded as the crowd started buzzing in a fashion that reminded her of poking a bee hive. Certainly, she was doing that now.
“And is it specified anywhere that there was a specific method for doing so?”
Twilight’s reply was long in coming. “No, Princess.”
Celestia turned back the assorted participants. “So, there are many options to winning.”
The griffon tilted her head, but the dragon looked like he didn’t get it.
“So, what does that have to do with our situation? The only choice is to fight.”
Celestia shook her head. “Like a real war, there are several methods that don’t require battle. Don’t you know?”
The griffon nodded. “Subterfuge, magical attacks, information gathering…”
They still weren’t getting it.
Celestia leaned forward. “Diplomacy.”
Taken aback, the griffon, dragon, not to mention all the ponies in the crowd, were staring at her in flabbergasted amazement. Celestia assumed that the reaction was more because it was the last thing they thought Celestia would say rather than the fact that there was a bloodless way to win.
The dragon tapped his claw on the arena’s tile slab. “How is it possible to use diplomacy in a combat situation?”
Celestia laughed, the clear sound carrying across the Arena, stunning both participants, guards and audience alike. “We’re talking right now, aren’t we?” Her voice lowered, and her expression settled into a serous countenance. “Let’s review our options. We can fight and you may win or you may lose.”
The griffon and dragon said nothing, merely tightening their stances.
“Though I haven’t been in combat for a while, I’m fairly sure I can cause some participants to drop out.” Celestia lifted an eyebrow and waited calmly for a response.
“I don’t like that option,” the griffon finally said.
“The second option is to surrender. Give up like my guards did and offer your head to me.” Even putting on a brave front, the words were sickening for her to say. She managed to erase the disgust creeping over her face, though.
The griffon and the dragon shook their heads. Failure was not an option. In the silence, the other participants noted the breakdown of negotiations and readied their stances. Celestia waited a few seconds longer before proposing the final option.
“There is one last option. Let’s form an alliance.” Celestia grinned. “With no enemies to fight, there is no one to stand above one another. We are all elevated to the same position.”
The griffon raised an eyebrow. “The rules say that one stands above—”
“Ever heard of the concept of a Federation?” Celestia cut in. “Alliances bound together as many voices forming the one unified directive. We are one, but we are many. In some ways it is like a nation.”
The griffon and the dragon nodded their heads. Each tried to lock eyes with her, searching for guile within, but Celestia was not lying and her demeanour exuded the aura of openness and calm befitting of a ruler of Equestria. It was a stark contrast to the Celestia that domineered over her subjects, the one who led the Empire in the first place. Mistrust was slowly being replaced with hope…
“No!” A pony shouldered her way to the front. “Don’t listen to her!”
Celestia inwardly sighed. She was so close to convincing them.
“What is it now?”
The unicorn reddened as the gazes of all present were trained on her. Despite being uncomfortable being the centre of attention, the unicorn stiffened her lip and strode forward.
“We all have something to fight for. I know you need this, whether for fame, money, power, whatever was promised to you. She is tricking us into accepting defeat. After all, the prize is one request to highest ruler of the land—” she gestured to Celestia “—how can you divide this among the many gathered here?”
What? All at once, her plan crumbled. Frantically, she factored in the singular prize.
“I could grant you all a wish—” she began, but was interrupted.
“But what if we want different things? What if a wish conflicted with another? What will you do then?” The unicorn shook her head. “There is one wish that I have to grant, no matter what.” Her horn glowed menacingly. “I will win the right in the end.”
“I’m sure we could work out a compromise—”
Again, she was cut off. The unicorn glared with such menace that Celestia was taken aback.
“There is no compromise. I cannot lose here.” Her gaze swept around to the remainder of the participants. “You all have a reason to enter. There is no going back.”
All at once, the mood changed. What had been a vaguely conciliatory mood now blackened into a suspicious silence. Celestia tried to think of something, anything, to overcome this twist of fate. Around her, the gazes of the participants slowly lost their passive demeanour. Some turned hostile, some turned regretful, but all were once again showing the resolution to do the unthinkable.
Celestia strained her mind for an answer to this oncoming dilemma. Her mind was drawing a blank. Bitterly, she realised that she could only stall for a little more time. Again, she tried.
“Wait a moment.”
The unicorn twisted her lips, but was forcefully dragged back by a hulking minotaur that stood off to the side. Her reasonable attitude had bought her a little of their trust, but not much.
The griffon and the dragon nodded. “We can spare a minute.”
A minute. That seemed to be what she was worth. All her staying power, all her experience, all of her summed up to this moment. A minute. A minute wasn’t long, but a minute would give her time to think of something.
Diplomacy? Failed.
Magic? Inapplicable.
Time? Not enough.
How could she convince those gathered here that violence wasn’t the solution? They all wanted a wish badly enough to put their lives on the line.
Celestia could feel the seconds pressing down on her. There didn’t seem to be a time limit, but the crowd and the mob of participants were beginning to become restless. Celestia instinctively knew that it wouldn’t go well if she stalled too much. Around her, the crushing feeling of unbridled bloodlust permeated the air. Everypony was waiting for it. They wanted to see somepony hurt.
Celestia could rapidly feel the control around her fading. Her guards were tensing up, reacting to the perceptible increase in danger. The participants dropped into a readying stance. The first round of attacks had just been probing. They were now going to seriously try and hurt her. No matter the difference in the strength, if Celestia failed to meet the attack with the same resolution, she herself will be injured.
She had no choice, the Arena was a situation that bent belief of a peaceful resolution out of the way in favour of brutality. Celestia didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to hurt another being. Thus, she needed to put her thoughts into action and show them the way.
“Minute’s up, Princess. What have you decided?”
“If I can’t reason with you, I will seek to meet you on your own terms. If I cannot find another solution and the only way is to fight, then I will defend myself.” Celestia swept her flinty gaze amongst the steely participants. Sparks almost seemed to fly off each fighter in this roiling cauldron of oil.
Celestia’s horn lit up as a searingly bright circle of light sprung up around her guards and herself.
“Cross this point,” she declared in a clear, uncompromising voice, “and you will regret it!”
It could have been a hoof full of seconds. It could have been minutes. The tension stretched the time beyond recognition as everyone in the vicinity watched with bated breath. The thick taught mood was mixed with the muddy impressions of bloodlust and violence on the brink of sweet, suffocating release.
Contradictory emotions welled up within the alicorn as she stood tall, proud and confident. Inside, she was cose to panicking. Even though these were not technically her subjects, she could not pull her thoughts away and detach herself. These were not her enemies, these were living beings warped under the pressure of their savage world, they were reasoning beings that were almost convinced… but were not due to her own failure.
How is it that so often she would sail through the meaningless vagaries of everyday life and numbing governance and politics, but when it came to these explosive situations her actions merely resulted in life being torn to shreds? It was the same, Luna, the changeling invasion, Discord… everything was her fault. Everything had fallen because of her inability to discard her reservations and embrace the resolve to fight.
This time it would be different.
Anger coiled in her heart.
When the first reckless charge came in, Celestia was there to meet it.
The minotaur charged, nostrils flaring with the heat of the moment, eyes locked onto target with a vicious kick aimed straight to her face. Celestia dodged the attempted blow with a low duck and poised herself with a spell waiting in her wings.
Literally.
A localised gale popped into existence and with a powerful sweep, the minotaur was sent flying, crashing into a surprised earth pony trying to bring up the rear. Before Celestia could catch a breath of respite, the dragon breathed flames causing her to reflexively shield herself with a barrier, just in time to catch the hooves or a madly driven pegasus that had dove from above.
Gritting her teeth, Celestia pounded the ground, sending power into the ground and bringing forth a crackling shockwave of power that slammed into her opponent’s encirclement.
Dazed and confused the front-liners stumbled back as others advanced. With their teamwork, Celestia bitterly observed, the participants had achieved the unity required to suppress her. Of course, her guards stood by watching, but they saw no need to step in. In fact, the captains surmised that stepping in would hinder rather than help the alicorn, and though she knew this, Celestia felt a small pang of loneliness in facing her adversaries on her own.
Why couldn’t they just come to an agreement in the same way they marvellously performed in concerto?
While lost in her disappointed reverie, she almost didn’t react to the surprising appearance of a hoof diving towards her chest!
Instinctively, Celestia lashed out with her own hoof as she automatically countered the attack. Too late she realised it was the unicorn that had cast an illusion to sneak close to her. She hadn’t the time to think as her defence tore into his shocked features.
Her hoof met flesh. Her hoof met bone. Her hoof felt it break.
In that small moment of adrenaline and rage, horror washed through her as she pulled back. At her hooves was the twisted form of a pony that had been so eager to dive into battle. Looking around she saw the contestants staring at the body, frozen like her. It was the first time she had unleashed a lethal blow.
The unicorn, struggling to pull breath into his collapsed lungs, gazed in abject terror not of only Celestia but of the primal fear of encroaching death she represented as she approached.
That alone stopped her.
Celestia could only stand mute.
Various thoughts swirled in her confused mind, but one dominated above them all.
What have I done?
———————
Twilight had figured it out.
“I’ve got it!”
Luna and Celestia looked up, eyes reddened from exhaustion. In contrast to the liberated look plastered over Twilight’s features, the two sisters, in circumstance more than reality, took in their respective expression and stared somewhat dully at Twilight.
“What?” Luna managed to get out. There was no trace of her bearing as Princess, simply the words of a bone-weary regent that needed sleep.
Twilight frowned at the less-than-enthusiastic response. She looked out the window.
“What time is it?”
“It’s…” Celestia’s eyes widened. “Much too late for the sun to rise!” She flopped out of the bed covered in books and documents and dashed out of the door, the hinges almost popping out of their sockets as the door slammed with enough force to wake a slumbering dragon.
Luna and Twilight looked at each other for a full five seconds and snorted with laughter.
“To think, I began the day doubting what you would say, Twilight Sparkle!” Luna exclaimed between snorts. “Paperwork indeed has its merits!”
The doors opened again. “Twilight I forgot the legislation!” She took the papers from her hooves. “Thank you, my dear student!” Then she left.
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Methinks the poor mare is addled without sleep and misbegotten the fact of your wings.”
Twilight stuck her tongue out at Luna, for once, forgetting she was a Princess. She couldn’t help but smile anyway.
———————
The dream faded away as Celestia awoke, disappointed. It was indeed a dream. Twilight laughing with her? Her sister making merry with her so familiar? Such an event had never occurred and might never will. Underneath was the soft silk of a bed, overhead was a familiar canopy, but only in shape, the colour scheme was a horrendous black and red.
The sheets felt like an irrepressible weight. Without Twilight, she was sad to admit, she could not traverse back to her universe. The books she had requested decorated the table in opened form, resembling a field of flowers, but with literature and paper rather than petals and stems.
All night, for several nights, she had attended to the books, trying to discern a clue that would let her reach for her home dimension. But magic here seemed not to progress so far, and though she was an accomplished caster in her own right, the extent of her knowledge and vast skills were dulled by the ages through disuse. Her mind was filled with governance and politics rather than the academic pursuit of her youth and she envied Twilight’s memory. That enthusiastic mare could probably recite those texts back to her, in reverse.
Though she had no need to raise the sun, the instinct always came to her. She wondered how the sun moved in this crazy universe, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. There were other matters more important to consider. She needed a way to get back, but the books were leading her nowhere. The only thing she could think of was to somehow get in contact with a human… but they were not to be trusted.
A knock on the door heralded a familiar, yet foreign, face.
“Princess?”
When she got back, she would resolve to make Twilight call her by first name. How the title wore thin after so long. Especially in this alien world. She admitted she was a princess. She admitted that her duties would lead to a certain distance between her and her subjects. The title was a part of her and yet she yearned it would not be. She realised wearily that this world’s Twilight was waiting for her reply. She forced an antipathetic smile.
“Yes, Twilight, you don’t need to knock. There’s nothing I would be doing that I would consider important enough to warrant that.” The statement came out a little more snippy than she intended and immediately she curbed her unruly ire with mortified guilt. “Sorry, Twilight, I guess… I guess I haven’t been getting enough sleep.” That much was true. Even if she didn’t occupy her time with magic, the nightmares would come, robbing her of what little strength she had left.
Twilight glanced at the desk. She opened and shut her mouth, waging an internal debate that Princess Celestia recognised all too well.
Twilight worked up the courage to speak. “I’m worried for you, Princess.”
Celestia smiled at her—former student—attendant. “I’m fine, Twilight.”
Twilight’s face was etched with worry. “With respect, you are clearly not, Princess. I urge you to rest.”
Celestia had already made her way to the table. “I make the same offer as I did the last time, Twilight. You’re welcome anytime.”
Twilight eyed the chair in dismay. “I-I can’t, Princess. You know why.”
Celestia knew exactly why. For if Twilight sat down, then she was admitting to herself that she believed in Celestia’s story. Sitting down was betraying her own convictions and enabling Celestia’s delusions in her opinion. She could not stop her though, and they both knew Celestia, at her present state would not order her to help. Instead, this stalemate of sorts had arisen, something that Celestia loathed, but knew would happen.
Twilight would not sit in the chair until she was convinced of the truth, but Celestia had no evidence. The only recourse was a wearying battle of wills. Celestia, Twilight and Luna were all embroiled in it and her stamina was flagging, she knew. It was not physical, but mental, it was an isolation that was keenly felt by Celestia.
Celestia knew this isolation well, she had experienced it for well over a thousand years. What were a few days more?
But this was different. It was her family and friends that resisted. The ones closest to her. The one able to cut the deepest with the kindest intentions. It were they that were her opponents. This torture was in conflict with the keening desperation she had resolved in her heart to return to her world. If she gave up, she would be swallowed by this universe.
She could feel her sense of urgency weaken ever-so-slightly when she participated in stately affairs. So she ceased them. She could feel her resolve dissolve under the pressure of her dependent ponies, so she excluded them. She couldn’t fight her friends and family… so she wouldn’t permit them to pose their case.
Twilight was bound by unwavering loyalty to her princess. She was asked not to convince her. If Celestia was honest, she practically begged. Luna and Twilight were torn between her heartfelt request and their desire to save her from the precipice of her imagined madness.
Or was she actually mad?
With each passing day her doubts grew. No longer had she seen Benny or Agatha. It had been weeks. After the war games, Celestia had stopped governing. Simply stopped. She was done with this world. She was done with their barbaric practices. She would not fulfil duties that were against her moral convictions.
Or so that was her excuse.
She didn’t want to say to Twilight and Luna that she feared she would be taken, like during the war games, to hold that rush of power and say that she enjoyed it to some extent. That awful, despicable, feeling of arrogance, hatred and power that had once cost her a thousand years of her sister’s life.
Again, it had hurt a pony under her rule.
She was aware of the argument that her rational mind made to absolve her of guilt. It would be so simple to discard her perceived duties to the subjects of this world. After all, they were not really her subjects, but the subjects of her counterpart. It was a tempting resolution that would absolve her of responsibility… so her seductive processes led her to think.
But that was wrong. That was horrifically wrong. To discharge herself of responsibility to her citizens would not discharge herself of her actions. There was no doubt that she hurt a pony, one that she had resolved to talk out of violence. What hypocrisy, what hubris, what self-conceited vanity to even entertain the notion that she wasn’t accountable to morals in a different world.
She was always accountable to herself.
If not to remember the mare she was to be, but also to return as the mare she used to be. Celestia wanted to come back to Equestria, her Equestria, as herself, as she left it. She could only imagine what expressions her own world’s Twilight and Luna would make if she had changed, and all for the worse.
“I cannot let my heart waver.”
Twilight twitched from her vigil in the corner of the room. Though she made not a sound, her silent disapproval was steadily eroding the tired alicorn’s forbearance. It was this constant presence that took her every ounce of willpower to retain her composure. She could not be angry at Twilight. After all, she was doing this with misguided intentions, not malicious intent.
But the staring was getting on her nerves.
But she wouldn’t leave without being ordered to.
But she couldn’t order her to.
But she would eventually win if she didn’t.
Celestia wondered if Benny was watching, amused at the enduring strain he was weighing on her own psyche. She wondered if he was laughing.
“I will not let you win!”
Twilight flinched at the venom lacing her words.
“It’s not your fault,” Twilight whispered softly.
The events of the Arena came flooding back to her. She had the determination to stand there, without fighting. She told herself she would stand alone, only dodging or parrying. That was what was intended, but in a miscalculated move, she lashed with a counterattack that was meant to be a block. Hooves shaking, she brought them to her face, she could still feel that sickening crunch as the pony’s ribs gave way and he tumbled to the ground with a choked cry…
That immense shock when she had realised what she had done.
That crushing panic as she leapt to the pony’s aid.
The abject fear in his eyes as she reached out to him.
The filthy disgust at herself when she stopped for a moment because of that.
It had been a crushing defeat, the other side had yielded. She had won, and the taste of victory had turned ashen in her unworthy maw. She had stumbled away from their nauseating cheers and cries.
“Princess…”
Celestia twitched in surprise. It was getting to her. Everything was.
“Princess, you need a break.” Twilight gestured to the door. “Everypony is waiting.”
Celestia blinked. “Where is Luna?” She hadn’t seen—her sister—her co-governess for a while.
Twilight bit her lip, she was clearly reluctant to discuss the matter. Finally, she sighed. “Princess Luna is afraid. She fears she may say something wrong and cast you further into madness.”
Guilt twisted in her stomach. Guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt.
Celestia stared at the door. It was so tempting to step outside.
Just a little bit. What harm was there?
Twilight beamed, overjoyed. “Only for a while, Princess!”
Celestia blinked. She realised she had said the last statement out loud. She considered for a very brief, almost fleeting moment to resist, but the very thought was washed away from the warm look that Celestia was given from her kind attendant.
An interesting aspect of Twilight’s ascension was that magic, although something she originally studied and practised, became something more to her. Instead of ‘using’ magic, Twilight felt that magic had become more of an extension of her will. By this she felt that forays into magic would often turn up interesting insights. It had rules, of course, but nowadays those limitations seemed looser and looser with how adept she was with managing power and purpose. Once upon a time, she had once thought that it was an alicorn’s body that allowed her this relevating insight.
She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.
Though being an alicorn was certainly advantageous, being one didn’t necessarily augment magical ability. It gave rise to power, and made the application of difficult spells easier to handle, but it didn’t mean an unfamiliar spell would suddenly be achievable. It was like being able to pull a cart, but with no idea how to steer it. Magic was like that.
What Twilight realised was that magic was something that required practice, knowledge and skills and that time would be necessary to master all forms of magic. Though she could proudly say that her cutie mark destined her for magic, she could not help but feel inadequate as literally centuries of profound knowledge and distilled wisdom had accumulated into an encyclopaedia of spells for her mere convenience. An advantage afforded to her simply by the passage of time, but not by her achievement.
She might have felt a little better if she had contributed to the Art somehow, but the only magic she had been successful in creating was the Magic of Friendship, and even the Princess of that Magic was unable to explain what exactly it was and how to go about casting such a spell. It was more appropriate in the case of the Tree of Harmony to call it a force of nature. At times, seeing all the eager faces of her subjects wondering and sighing at her ‘achievements’ of which she ironically had the smallest knowledge about, Twilight thought that her position was somewhat ill-deserved.
So, Twilight, seeing herself as inadequate to the task, felt this insurmountable barrier between her and her teacher. The Princess of the Sun for which she revered as skilled, thoughtful, wise and a number of flattering adjectives that Twilight could and could not conceive in her limited mind.
To Twilight, Celestia was somepony that was able to raise the sun, a feat only capable with the strength of half a century of highly trained unicorns, and even then her mastery extended far beyond that. Not only that, but she dealt with the ferocious nobles that plagued her, endless paperwork and a country with a penchant for danger, all while smiling at a foal… whilst running their school. Celestia was as close to perfect as Twilight could ever imagine.
So that was why, in the loneliness of troubled nights, Twilight could sometimes be found brooding over her inadequacy to rise to the task. Her teacher often scolded her for her excessive modesty, for it bordered upon self-pity. Her achievements never matched the ponies around her, but at the same time, that became her drive.
What need had she for company and social settings, when there was so much to discover between the covers of a book? What more could be gleaned from the outside world, when there were worlds imaginary and real as far as one could reach on a shelf? And with her magic, she could reach far indeed.
Twilight’s friends had changed that.
Friendship had taught her the importance of others and how they would support her and she would support them. Strengths and weaknesses that were inherent in each ponies and that together they could cover each with their strengths to make up for their weaknesses. When she had realised this, she was already a Princess. When she thought for once to extend this to the Princess, it was only after she had gone.
What use was magic if there was nopony to benefit from it?
Twilight had snuck to the library in the dead of the night. Luna had expressly forbidden her from working too late, but Twilight was beset by wearying worry. Luna could see the toll it was having on her body and the exhaustion stemming from that was leading to mistakes. It did them no good if she couldn’t work efficiently. Twilight knew this. Twilight was certain ofthis. But when she closed her eyes, her body refused to sleep. She couldn’t help feeling that Celestia needed her more than ever.
So a ragged princess on the verge of collapse snuck off to the library. Guards had been posted to her door, but they couldn’t guard against a teleporting alicorn now could they?
She had snuck past them so easily and the library security was never any great shakes. She had learned from the last time she had snuck in. With a mirthless grimace, Twilight noted the importance of experience, no matter how cringeworthy the content.
She reached for a book and flipped it open.
In it was a note.
It said,
Twilight, I told you to go to sleep!
There was a crude drawing of a frowning Celestia. Twilight blinked back tears as she happened upon it. She recognised the note. Celestia had scattered them around the library in various books when a certain recalcitrant foal failed to heed the words of her teacher and snuck into the library to read. Celestia must have forgotten to take them out.
She had no words. Even if she did there would be no voice to give them power. Twilight was once again safe in the folds of her mentor’s wings. It was… it was…
————————
By the time Twilight had made her way back to her room, Luna was been just about to storm off to the library to tell her off. She spotted the alicorn trudging back and started forward with an angry expression, but coming closer, it morphed into potent concern.
In a quiet voice, Luna spoke in the encroaching silence.
“Twilight, what ails you?”
A broken smile greeted the princess and she held out the scribbled note. Luna immediately recognised the writing and held a hoof to her mouth. Conflicted emotions stormed within her milky eyes. Luna could only bite her lip as she herself felt suspended on a thread above a torturous abyss of raging emotions.
“Twilight,” she finally said, “if you would drown yourself in work, I will no longer stop you, but please…”
She did not make it any further. Twilight had already made up her mind.
“The note says to sleep, so I’ll sleep.” Twilight looked different. Refreshed almost, and charged with purpose. She smile self-mockingly. “I’m only one pony, after all.”
Luna bowed her head, hiding her face. Twilight didn’t know what expression she was making under the layers of her beautifully shaded cosmic mane, but she could guess that a complicated feeling of anguish and pride swirled underneath that canopy of star-studded hair strands.
“Twilight,” Luna whispered, “we must find our sister, but I do not want to lose you too.”
Twilight recognised the depth of her folly with sagging shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she replied sincerely. Then added with a sigh, “I just can’t sleep.”
Now it was Luna’s turn to give Twilight a wry smile. It was hard to tell under the dark coat of hers, but the bloodshot eyes were unmistakable.
“I cannot either, Twilight, but I must. For her and myself. Even if I have to force it to be so.”
Twilight realised a distinct spell wrapped around the Princess. It was a sleep spell. Twilight’s eyes widened at the implication. Luna was still standing under the influence of a sleep spell! The amount of mental fortitude it would have taken to resist the spell would have been enormous. It was so far out of the scope of her imagination that she could only stare at the princess in shock.
“P-Princess, you—”
Luna waved her concern away with an airy hoof. “My condition does not matter, we must attend to you. You are far worse off.”
Twilight could only nod dumbly at the force of Luna’s fervent consternation.
“I will sleep,” she told the princess. “I-I’ll try my best.”
Luna nodded wearily, then headed off. “Be well, Twilight. If not for yourself, than for the one you are saving.”
Twilight nodded once again, eyes downcast. She had made such a foal of herself. With a nod and passing apology to a pair of surprised guards, Twilight excused herself and entered her room. Books were scattered everywhere, but for once, Twilight paid them no heed. She headed to the small vanity mirror mounted on the wall above the desk and looked at the stranger that stared back.
It was a mare that looked tired beyond her years. Sagging bags under her listless eyes, dull, matted hair in her mane and her coat, a worn-down face that stared back with ferocious intensity enough to call mad more than driven. She had become somepony that had regressed into her bad habits so quickly. The visage that stared back was frightening.
With a thick swallow, Twilight tried to force down the feelings of shame as she clutched the note sent from her mentor ten years from the past. She cried for a long while and then exhausted herself into sleep. Celestia made good on her promise from a long time ago. No matter where she was, her mentor would always be there for her.
And for that, she wept all the harder.
——————
That was a week ago. For now, things were more positive. With renewed tenacity, Twilight reached out and gathered information at breakneck speed, asking for help and no longer isolating herself with the arduous endeavour. She met new ponies from the University of Canterlot and Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She conversed with them, made new friends, and gathered fresh perspectives that shed light on development for this ‘interversal’ travel. Her goal was much simpler this time. Instead of getting there herself with magic, she knew what she had to do.
“Princess Twilight, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Spectral Aster, the current Chancellor of the University of Canterlot.”
Twilight bobbed her head in greeting and smiled.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Chancellor, would you like some tea?”
The Chancellor shook his head. “Goodness me, no, no, no, I’m nervous as it is and tea in my shaking hooves would just make it spill all over the place!”
Twilight blushed profusely. “I’m not that great of a pony, Chancellor Aster.”
Spectral Aster widened his eyes as if he’d seen Luna do a cartwheel. “Ludicrous! You are the most academically-inclined mare at the bleeding edge of magic! New spells are being discovered by yourself almost monthly! A new field of magic was opened up by you, but more importantly was your scholarly dissertation covering all these topics, I’ve never seen a pony more suited to becoming an academic at our university. Would you not reconsider at least accepting our honorary award?”
Twilight grinned in genuine gratitude, but slowly shook her head. “Thank you, Chancellor, but I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly accept. Perhaps when I retire from my duties as Princess, I could consider formal study to attaining that accreditation, anything less would feel like cheating.”
Spectral Aster shook his head. “Ah, Princess, you’ve more than fulfilled the requirements for an academic body of work that proves your competence thrice over.” He smiled wryly. “But I’ll hold aside my enthusiasm to recruit you for now. How can I avail myself to you?”
Twilight appreciated the gallant Chancellor’s polite chatter, but grew serious as the matter was brought up.
“Currently, you are one of a few ponies that know of Princess Celestia’s… true circumstances.”
Spectral Aster bowed his head. “Yes, Princess, how unfortunate, know that we will commit our upmost to anything you so require, Princess Celestia has been nothing but kind and generous to our University, she is a mare that places great emphasis on education. Although it is a shame she is more politically-inclined than scholarly, she is however, a fountain of knowledge, nevertheless.”
Twilight found herself smiling in recollection of Celestia’s early impressions of her voracious appetite for knowledge. She found it heartwarming as Celestia never withdrew any information, no matter what she asked for, she was a true believer in that the pony decided whether knowledge was a blessing or a curse and that knowledge itself was blameless.
Well unless she counted the restricted section, but it was understandable why considering that there were spells that could literally turn a pony inside out…
“Princess Twilight?”
“Oh I’m sorry, Chancellor Aster, I lost myself in some recollections.” Twilight straightened her posture and firmly rebuked herself silently for being so rude. “What I’m planning is this.”
With a levitation spell ignited, a vibrant purple glow illuminated a scroll sitting on the desk behind her and carried itself aloft in the air for the few moments it took to deposit itself at the fore hooves of the Chancellor. The wizened stallion took the scroll carefully and with a searching look of confirmation, broke the royal seal on the scroll, unfurling it with his own magic and reading the contents.
At first his eyes showed only confusion, then as he read on the confusion spread from his eyes through the wrinkling surface of the crow’s feet around his widening vision to spread downwards, slackening his jaws and painting a shocked impression over the canvas of his awed features.
“This… is… are you sure, Princess?”
“Never more in my life.”
The Chancellor stiffened at her look and then sagged in his seat with a flustered expression that eventually moved into acceptance. “I guess as fantastical as this sounds, a princess wouldn’t lie about something so important, but it will be done.” He bowed deeply. “And the magic surrounding this is beyond my experience, it will take some time to gather enough to meet the stringent requirements.”
“Thank you,” Twilight replied sincerely. “I really do appreciate your help, Chancellor.”
“Call me Spectral or Speccy,” he answered with a laugh, “all my friends do.”
Twilight giggled, but she refrained from using his quirky nickname.
“Thank you, Spectral.”
“Ah, don’t make an old coot like me blush, Princess. Consider it already done. I wish you well on your side of the impossible task.”
With that, the door closed as Spectral Aster left the room, and Twilight, to their own devices. She was alone in the room, or so she thought.
“So, you have decided to trust me, then?”
Twilight turned to the corner of the room where the other Celestia had sequestered herself. Twilight hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the princess through the last couple of weeks.
“Where did you go?” she mumbled in disbelief. “I thought you were gone, but…”
The other Celestia tossed her head and snorted in displeasure. “But I wasn’t important enough in your mind to go looking for me?”
Twilight stayed silent, unwilling to give voice to the vicious thoughts that were residing within her.
The other Celestia smiled thinly. “Well, Twilight, I was actually wandering around Canterlot, visiting and seeing things from the commoner’s perspective. I must admit, it was more than I expected from a society hoofed over with a free rein. I was slightly disappointed that nopony cared about my disappearance, but I’m used to that now.” The alicorn shrugged. “Instead, I did things my own way and decided to leave you to your own devices before returning with a suitable plan. Looks like my decision was the correct one. You look like a different mare. I like the look of your eyes.”
Twilight stared at Celestia with wary-filled eyes.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking.” Twilight’s initial query ground itself into a statement as she stared with conviction at Celestia.
Celestia smirked in an infuriating way, like she knew that Twilight would fall into her hooves.
Just. Like. That.
It annoyed her to no end.
“Yes,” Celestia replied, “I will, as the stallion that exited before suggested, help you achieve this ‘impossible task’.”
Twilight laughed at the haughty princess. It wasn’t impossible and she would do it.
They were going to break the ground.
“Together?”
Celestia nodded firmly. “Together.”
They would trap a human.
——————
“Suppress them all!”
Shock had turned into rage. Blinding as the sun, it burned with a scorching inferno that swallowed all the participants in a conflagration that wouldn’t accept anything but meek compliance.
They didn’t dare move a muscle under the weight of her fiery gaze.
“There will be no victor here, only order!”
The words felt like they were dragged bodily out of her mouth. Her throat had tightened with the strain of holding back and not lashing out at these impetuous participants. How dare they stand up against her, how dare they mock—
Rainbow flashed in her vision.
No, this wasn’t her.
“Princess, what would you have me do?” Shade posed the question, loyalty unwavering.
Burn them.
“Let them go.” She turned around and left the Arena, not sparing another glance at the participants’ relieved gazes as they were liberated from their close contact with mortality.
“Merciful Princess Celestia,” Luna was quick to comment on, smugly.
Celestia could only stare at her sister. Mercy…? What is mercy granted in the danger they themselves she herself fostered? Was that truly mercy? No, that was tyranny. That was right wrong.
“What am I becoming?” Celestia whispered to herself.
“Powerful,” Twilight answered with a proud smile.
Disconsolate, Celestia could only blink at the rift closing between her own identity and the Other Celestia. How far apart were they now?
————————
Celestia allowed herself to be led by Twilight. The unicorn walked forward at a stately pace, looking like she was treading on eggshells rather than on tile. Every few moments she would cast a worried look back, as if afraid that she wouldn’t be there the next time she looked. The action reminded her so much of a dog that she couldn’t help but smile a little. Seeing her brightening mood, Twilight prompted herself to speak and she sent an endless chatter of conversation in a lightened tone.
She knew Twilight was just trying to cheer her up, so she felt bad not being able to meet her attendant’s expectations. She herself was drowning in a sea of her own doom and gloom.
“…And the lights in the room were very bright, we couldn’t see a thing! Then, we realised, the room was filled with crystals! Ceiling to the floor were crystals piled into a mountain! A tribute to your greatness, I’m sure—”
“Twilight, do you think it’s right to hurt somepony?”
Twilight stopped in her tracks and turned around.
“It depends,” she answered simply.
Celestia was shocked, she simply stood there unable to answer.
“What do you mean?” she asked with a hard tone.
Twilight, this time, didn’t back down. “If somepony is out there trying to hurt you, do you stay still and get hit? Sometimes it’s for the best to take action first to prevent greater harm from befalling either one.”
Celestia thought about that sentence and realised that she herself actually believed in it too. Was she so mired in the concept that this world was infecting her that she was no longer able to think of such a simple deduction?
“You’re right…”
“Well, Princess, it’s what you taught me before.”
Instinctively, she recoiled, but then, as she kept thinking about it, it dawned on her that she was being foolish. Just because she didn’t like the Other Celestia, didn’t mean everything she did or said was wrong.
“I was being just as intolerant as her,” she whispered.
“What?” Twilight tilted her head. “Did you say something, Princess?”
“Nothing,” Celestia said with a smile. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”
Twilight’s expression almost made her laugh. To her, she must look like she’d gone off the deep end.
“You’re just so wonderful, Twilight, in every world.”
“… Thank you, Princess.”
Celestia held her head high. Ignoring the world and returning to her own would be in breach of her own set of values.
The Other Celestia may not care for my subjects, but that does not mean I do not care for her’s! I am a better pony than that!
Twilight gestured to the grandiose set of door that led to the Throne Room, for now, considered to be her Throne Room. The unicorn was fidgeting by herself and her worry sent stabs of guilt into her already fragile heart.
I must do better.
“Twilight,” she replied wistfully, “I wish to step outside.”
Twilight opened her mouth instinctively to retort, but stopped herself and slowly retracted her jaw with a slight snap. She nodded instead, the movement growing firmer with her own convictions as she reached some kind of unknown conclusion about her.
“Yes, let’s go outside. I know a place that would make you happy.”
Twilight trotted forward, bolstered by her steps and she moved with a certainty and purpose that worried her tag-along alicorn.
“Twilight, what do you mean something that would make me happy?”
Twilight smiled at her. “Curious, now, Princess?”
Celestia nodded.
“Follow me and you’ll find out.”
Celestia followed Twilight obediently. They moved at a stately pace, but it was a pace that covered ground rather quickly compared to simply walking. Nostalgically, Celestia recalled the time when she had tutored her own student about the nature of a ruler’s pace.
Like a duck, she had once said, they swim on the surface looking serene and graceful, gliding along the surface without skipping a beat. Underneath, in the water, the furious paddling and constant strain are nowhere to be seen, but they are still there. Walk with purpose, Twilight, and you will find that the destination arrives no matter how resplendent your pacing is.
Twilight had once doubted her, but when Celestia trotted forward in that special manner, Twilight stumbled in surprise at the speed she had moved and the distance she had covered.
It’s all in the rhythm, she had told the awed fledgling princess then.
In the blink of an eye, they had arrived. Celestia hadn’t realised, but they were at a cold stone building situated not so far from the castle. Celestia didn’t recall such an impressive scale of architecture situated there… but this was a different world.
Equally resistive, Celestia finally stopped and turned back around. Every time she was exposed to something drastically different here, something went terribly, terribly wrong. Like the feel of those ribs breaking… the hoarse cry, the shock and her paralysis…
Celestia savagely shook her head. Twilight was giving her the look again. The only reason why Twilight wasn’t getting a doctor was because there wasn’t a condition for a mental disease here. You were crazy and that was it. It was insanity in so many ways!
I’m past that. All I can do now is everything I can. No more snap decisions. No more regretting the have-beens. It is time to move forward.
Inside there were grandiose statues and military figures posing in powerful stances, showing off their prowess in a menacing way that made even Celestia, who was no stranger to such displays, a little uneasy. To the front was a rather austere desk lined with gold, red and black.
“Twilight,” she began unsteadily, “why is so much of Canterlot coloured in red and black?”
Twilight looked liked she had something to comment about—unrelated to her question—but she held it in and answered the princess instead.
“They’re the royal colours,” she remarked as if one were to comment about the time. “You chose them yourself.
“Of course,” Celestia muttered with rolling eyes. “Of course I did.”
There was a prim-looking desk attendant that glanced up as Celestia approached. Her eyes, initially dulled with boredom, quickly rose through the temperature scales from cool to practically on fire. They bulged out of their sockets as the pony scrambled to present herself.
“Princess!” The pony burst out of the chair and gave her a rigid bow. As she came up, she saluted.
“Private Heartly, reporting for duty, ma’am!”
“Well Private Heartly… do I know you?”
The private blushed profusely, looking flustered by the direct question.
“Yes, Princess, you were there in the Arena.”
It suddenly came back to her. This was the downed pegasus that Rainbow had been trying to protect.
“Where is Rainbow, Private Heartly?”
Heartly glanced around. “Is she in trouble, ma’am?”
Twilight stepped forward. “How dare you! The Princess asked you a question—”
“Twilight!” Celestia rounded on her in shock. “Where did you learn to speak like that?”
Twilight hesitated, her cheeks suffused with prickling anxiety. “Princess…? I’m only—”
“Twilight, this pony is only concerned for her friend, isn’t that right, Private Heartly?”
Heartly’s eyes flickered between the two as she slowly formulated a reply. “Yes… Princess, please forgive my insolence. I was only worried about my friend.”
“The Empire is your friend,” Twilight announced coldly, “there’s no need mmph—!”
“What Twilight meant to say,” Celestia cut in, whilst wrapping a magical gag around Twilight’s mouth, “is that we would very much like to see Rainbow Dash.”
Heartly glanced at Twilight and then nodded in assent with a tangible hint of hesitation.
“Yes, Princess, I’ll show you to Sergeant Dash’s quarters. She’s on her way back from training and will be with you in the meantime.”
Nodding, Celestia allowed herself to be led to Sergeant Dash’s dormitory.
“If you would please wait inside, I will… fetch somepony with a higher rank and serve you tea.” Heartly mumbled more than spoke. “I will also try and find Sergeant Dash and ask her to come with all due haste!”
“That won’t be necessary, Private Heartly, thank you for your time.”
Twilight looked like she had much to say, but couldn’t say it through the gag. Seeing her pitiful look, Celestia undid her gag as Heartly exited the room.
“Princess! Why are you so interested in Sergeant Rainbow Dash? Also, why did you stop me from reprimanding Private Heartly? I know you’ve… that you’ve…” Twilight trailed off as she saw that she wasn’t really paying attention to her rant. Celestia was inspecting the room.
The room was rather unremarkable. There was a simple desk with one bed and a diary that was mostly blank except for a few passages. On one wall was a painting that was slightly askew. Frowning, Celestia instinctively reached out with her magic and fixed the frame.
They both froze as they heard a clicking sound.
“What’s this?” Celestia murmured. The frame wasn’t attached to the wall with a simple nail and hook. It swung out to the side instead. As the painting moved out of the way, a wall cavity revealed itself, showing stacks of documents, loose files and photos.
“What are these?!” Twilight exclaimed, trying to peer in. Her height didn’t quite allow that to work out, but Celestia took out the files and perused the title. They were in effect biographies, identities and communiques. The photos were locations around Central Recruitment and the Palace.
“This…” Twilight peered closer. “There’s no mistake, these are the plans of the Resistance!” She glanced up in sparkling admiration of her princess. “Princess, I had no idea you were investigating Sergeant Rainbow Dash!”
As if on cue, the door opened to reveal a weary pegasus who stumbled in, flanked by a rather serious-looking stallion decked out in armour and Private Heartly.
“So, Princess, you’ve found out.” Rainbow glared at them with furious intensity.
Celestia couldn’t really say out loud that she found it by accident.
“Yes, but—” She wanted to explain that she wasn’t part of the resistance, but the next thing she knew, spears were levelled at her.
“Well, Princess,” Rainbow commented mildly, not looking at all concerned. “It’s your unlucky day. The Resistance has finally executed their plans today and you’ve made your move too late!”
Confused, Celestia shared a look with Twilight.
“We’re in the middle of Central Recruitment,” Twilight said with an annoyed look. “Stop kicking up a fuss and give up. There’s no way you could escape here.”
“Oh?” Rainbow took a few steps forward. “Try yelling for help, see where that gets you.”
Not intimidated in the least, Twilight took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs.
“Guards! Guards! The Princess is under attack!”
Twilight grinned smugly at Rainbow, but the pegasus merely smiled at her in return. Seconds dragged on as Twilight stood there sweating.
“Any moment now…” Twilight’s smile died down a couple of notches.
Celestia turned to Rainbow. “So, what is your plan?”
Rainbow glanced at the Princess with her spear at the ready. “We’re going to kidnap you.”
Celestia glanced at Rainbow’s waist. A softly glowing ring was hooked onto her belt. “And you’re going to use an inhibitor to do that?”
Rainbow’s lips tightened. “You must have learned a lot in the year you were gone, Princess. I must admit, we wished you were gone longer. Since you know about the collar, you must know that any magic here is useless. We have twenty guards outside with me. You won’t be able to leave here without being seriously injured.”
“Well,” Celestia began in a playful tone, “that’s if I don’t use teleportation.”
Rainbow’s lips tightened. “We’ve seen you teleport, but we haven’t seen you teleport with anypony else. I can guarantee that we’ll be able to reach Twilight first, even if we cannot reach you.”
There were an equal number of steps between Twilight and herself. Twilight tried to edge closer to Celestia, but a spear rose threateningly to check her. Rainbow and Heartly looked committed to the fight and an itching hoof could be the trigger of a cascading waterfall of brutal events. Princess Celestia eyed each of them carefully and weighed her options.
“Hmm,” Celestia said, “those aren’t very appealing circumstances. Alright, how about this? I give up and you let Twilight go.”
“Princess!” Twilight quivered in her spot. “You cannot negotiate with these… these despicable barbarians!”
“Barbarians!” Rainbow shot back, face boiling with rage. “You’re the barbarians! Equestria used to be a nation united in harmony. Magic used to flow free and strong in this land! If it weren’t for your meddling, Equestria would be a better place!”
“Absolute rubbish!” Twilight growled. “Your vile propaganda has soiled my ears. The Empire has brought peace, prosperity, strength and unity. All things that you could possibly want! How dare you ungrateful sows point your weapons at our esteemed princess! The Empire will not stand—mmph!”
Rainbow and Heartly both shared a shocked look as Celestia once again gagged her assistant. Twilight’s eyes bulged for a moment, before Celestia made eye contact with her and slowly shook her head. When she was sure Twilight wouldn’t speak, she dispersed the spell on the poor mare and continued calmly.
“I do apologise about that. So, what of our deal?”
Rainbow glanced at Twilight. “Much as I hate to admit it, Twilight Sparkle, the number one assistant of Princess Celestia herself. The Royal Attendant. Also, according to the Shamare, a bearer of an Element of Harmony.”
“The Resistance believes in such ridiculous notions!” Twilight snapped. “Even if it was true that I was a bearer of the Element of Harmony, or whatever, how would you convince me to join you?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. If Fluttershy believes in it… then so do I, no matter how crazy it is—why are you smiling like that?”
“No reason,” Celestia remarked.
“Stop it, then, it’s creepy.”
“How dare you—mmph!”
Again, Twilight was wrapped in a silencing spell. Celestia apologised to her assistant in her heart… and out loud just to be sure. “Sorry, Twilight, although I appreciate you ‘defending’ my honour, it looks like the Resistance wants to take you away.”
“That’s right, Princess, I’m glad you can understand. Do what you do best and think of yourself.” Rainbow glared at Celestia, taunting her. “Or you could run away?”
Celestia sighed. “There’s no need to resort to petty tactics like that. I will go with you and Twilight will as well.”
Rainbow narrowed her eyes as she huffed. “How stupid do you think we are? You’re just going to escape the first chance you get!”
Wait, weren’t you trying to goad me into coming with you in the first place?
“Of course,” Celestia replied calmly, “but it’ll be hard to escape with those collars on, right?”
Rainbow’s eyebrows drew in closer.
“It’s a trap,” Heartly ground out, staring intently at the Princess with a laser-like scowl.
“I know,” Rainbow muttered, “but this is an ideal opportunity! We can achieve all our goals with this one move!”
Heartly bit her lip. “Okay, Rainbow, I trust you.”
Rainbow nodded and pulled out another collar from her saddlebag. She tossed them on the ground and stared at them. “Put these on, and don’t try anything.”
“Mmph!” Twilight immediately balked from the collars, eyeing the spears and desperately trying to maintain eye contact with her princess.
Celestia undid the spell and reached out for the collar. When Twilight tried to move forward, the spears came up, ready and willing to put her down if the need arised. The unicorn swept her eyes between Celestia and the spears, looking absolutely torn.
“Princess, you can’t be thinking of acceding to their demands, just let me go! You have… you have other ponies waiting for you, don’t you?!”
Despite this all going to plan, the heartfelt plea from Twilight was unexpectedly heartwarming. Celestia gave Twilight a kind smile. “Twilight, I must admit, you’re just as much of a friend here as you are over there. In fact… maybe a little more since we’ve been spending so much time together.” She reached out and snapped on the inhibiting collar, sinking down to her fetlocks with a groan as the magic left her system, swallowed by the mysterious artefact.
“Princess!” Twilight gritted her teeth and glared at Rainbow and Heartly with a pained expression. Rainbow seemed disturbed, whilst Heartly stared back, expressionless.
Twilight, never once taking her eyes off her captors, snapped the collar around her neck as well. Unlike Celestia, Twilight stood on her own, her legs shaking with the sheer willpower to stay standing.
“Mark my words,” Twilight said with a low voice, “you will regret this.”
Rainbow tightened her lips, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she simply motioned for both of them to walk out the door in front of them.
Celestia took the lead, with a disturbingly relaxed smile, whilst Twilight followed reluctantly behind.
“The Princess is acting strangely,” Heartly commented. “Is she for real?”
“She looks kinda…”
“No, I mean, is she actually ‘real’?”
Rainbow touched the collars at her saddlebags. “We’ll see when we give these collars to Rarity, but any illusions or false doubles or something should have been cancelled when she put on the collar.” Rainbow shrugged. “Twilight’s reaction seemed real enough.”
“Maybe Celestia has some sort of countermeasure?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her…” Rainbow kept glancing back at Twilight and Celestia.
“What?” Heartly glanced at her partner with concern etched into her expression.
“It’s just… never mind.”
“What is it?” she pressed.
Rainbow bit her lip. “Why does it feel like we’re the bad guys here?”
Heartly chuckled. “Oh Rainbow, you’re such a good pony. I don’t know why you even joined the Resistance if you couldn’t stomach doing something like this.”
Rainbow sighed. “I just want it to be over.”
“It will be,” Heartly replied with a malicious gleam in her eyes. “It will be soon.”
