When Princess Celestia had dreams that she could remember, it was a rare thing. For those dreams to be anything more than the dull bleeding of her day trickling back at her was rarer still. The rarest occasion of all was less likely than blue moons, for it was when her mind was presented with all the surreal trappings of prophecy. Foredreams were always cursed with such creativity, and there was nothing that managed to get on the nerves of Princess Celestia quite like puzzles and mystic matters. Dreams were best with all the coziness and familiarity of doldrums, where every bit of magic was drained from them.
There was nothing more satisfying than waking up in a place not sure, unlike the one she had left. When her dreams let her see long-dead friends and all the sights fitting for a mare who loathed stepping out of castle and crown as she did, there was no sense of home lost. Never would she have to think of all the evils in the world that her ponies wouldn’t ever know, all the evils that slept more deeply than she ever would. A folk saying among mortals was that sleep was death’s younger sister, but Princess Celestia could only do and know one of those things. The other would always be alien and unattainable.
No, if sleep were kin to anything it was innocence. To sleep was to be submerged in the fuzzy, delightful haze of ignorance. That was sleep’s gift to Princess Celestia.
Nopony worried in their sleep.
Until one night, Celestia did.
She had a dream cursed with vividness, with far too much feeling. She knew it could not be her own. If she had ever been able to dream lucidly, Princess Celestia would have roused herself right then and there. Nothing was worse than to be fed the cryptic stream of future-puzzles sealed up in foredreams. Princess Celestia was a good mare who believed that good things happened to those who did good in turn. And why did she believe that? To her, destiny was a real hard force, one that gripped life more than air or the mortal need for food. Destiny was good, always.
That so many of the foredreams held anything but good and kind things was a cause for alarm. She didn’t want this, these dreams that spelled out a world where uncertainty was just as likely as happiness. Where apathy could exist.
She never wanted this. Not since she last had to step into the ruins of the Everfree Forest’s castle to pull what could be salvaged from its dark, ruined womb. It was there that she had to face that she had banished her better half — and that the sister she hung in the sky would never come home, though there was no longer a castle to come home to.
Not until this dream on this particular night. It was not on an inherently peculiar date, exactly five hundred and eighty-eight years before Princess Celestia would ever meet the last Faithful Student she would ever need. In this dream, she saw the shop of a fortune-teller in Canterlot, one that was rendered with such anxiety-inducing lucidity that she knew the place was real.
Princess Celestia knew that she needed to go there too; the foredream told her so, and it did more clearly than most of her other dreams had.
Were she to go there, Princess Celestia would no longer have to live every day like she was a neutron star. And exactly two hundred and seventy-six years later, Princess Celestia would actually consider the words spoken within those walls.
Princess Celestia had received many unusual requests in her long life. The ponies of the Equestrian gentry were always where the most 'unusual' requests would originate from. No matter what, she could always count on there being one rather eccentric pony whose petitions could only be met with a polite smile, even kinder refusal, and the wave of her hoof so her meeting with the next petitioner could begin. She may give everypony her time, but she only ever had to listen. Sometimes, that was the most that ponies got, and they were too entranced by the sweetness and demurity she maintained in their conversations. With it, she could steer the most unpleasant of her subjects away with smiles on their faces, making them nigh-unaware of the pleasure they were taking in how she had refused them. Such was the blinding light of the sun goddess!
None of those mortals had ever broken her composure or caused her to stop in her tracks. The last rays of an Equestrian sunset were already bleeding from the walls and falling to shadows on the floor. This gave the whole gleaming hall of Canterlot Castle an air of mystery, of holding its breath, and a trance that she could not puzzle out.
Not a single Faithful Student had ever surprised her so. Every one of the little unicorns she had plucked from her school and stood in her shadow was a bundle of predictability. Never had one been able to so much as startle her—
At least not quite like this, she thought. Princess Celestia was glad that Twilight Sparkle could not see the momentary flicker of dismay across her face. That flicker was not for tiny Twilight Sparkle, and Princess Celestia did not wish to offend this latest little unicorn — her youngest-ever Faithful Student — and have to explain herself. She was only recalling the final deeds of the last unicorn to bear the title of Faithful Student and where her stubborn nature had led her, and how she had strayed from all the light that Princess Celestia had tried to offer her—
—for a mere reflection of a world.
The little filly that stood behind her, dramatically bathed in shadow cocked her head to the side. Twilight Sparkle blinked as the first swathes of moonlight began to overtake the many-windowed corridor. Outside, the night was just another dim shadow of what it could be. Such was every dusk that generations of Celestia's little ponies had known, her Faithful Students among them.
"Princess...?" Twilight Sparkle asked cautiously. Her voice lifts in a timid crack at the end as she stared at the ageless goddess that was her new teacher.
The light on the princess' horn died once the moon was visible in the sky, bringing forth only an imitation of what the night could be — the same kind that Princess Celestia had brought forth for over nine hundred years. She regained her composure immediately. After all, if this filly were to live in the castle Celestia would need to be able to speak to her gently as a teacher, even more gently than the image of a monarch she presented to her Equestrian subjects and their allies. She tried to think of the last time a student of hers had been so young and knew that Twilight Sparkle was still just shy of the usual age that unicorn foals were when they applied to her school.
Twilight's parents had certainly put high expectations on the withers of their previously-homeschooled daughter. Twilight Velvet and Nightlight had told their princess-goddess all about how much the timid, autistic filly had to be pushed to even attempt the School for Gifted Unicorn's exam at the age she did. Like many parents, they had even selected Twilight Sparkle's eventual degree on her guardian application to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns when Twilight would be of age to move into the postsecondary part of the campus.
(That degree was currently null since the little filly was a Faithful Student, wholly separate in schooling. But it had been a completely unsurprising choice — library science was perfect for Twilight Sparkle, and Princess Celestia was certainly going to keep Twilight's parent's choice in mind.)
Then, Princess Celestia dismissed the distraction and replaced her uncertain expression with a soft smile and turned to look down at Twilight Sparkle.
With her darker coat, she almost blended into the shadows — especially one as big as Celestia's own. The princess had to conjure a simple werelight of gold aura as kind as she appeared, all to help her little student see in the dark halls. The shadows retreated but continued to dance upon both of their faces as the bobbing werelight mixed with the last meager light of the evening.
In seconds, Princess Celestia's weak night reigned in full.
"Yes, Twilight?" Celestia asked softly.
"Did I ask too much, Y-Your H-Highness? I-I know it's only my second-night h-here. It's j-just that when I was trying to finish unpacking my books I found this—" Twilight interrupted herself by levitating a hefty novel in front of her face like a shield, "—and... I'm sorry, Princess. You probably have something better to do a-and—"
"May I see your book, Twilight Sparkle?" Celestia asked, taking it upon herself to interrupt when it became clear the filly was struggling to explain herself. For Celestia, that wasn't of much concern — she had autistic Faithful Students in the past.
Twilight nodded sheepishly and passed her book to the Princess, who eyed the cover coolly while Twilight anticipated her reply. The filly was clearly stunned at how forward she had been. It was obvious to the princess where her student's thoughts were straying: that everypony knows that nopony bothers the princess and here she had just requested that—
"A Crinkle in Time?" Celestia questioned, trying to see the faded gold-leaf letters in the dark.
"You almost had it," Twilight whispered happily. "This is my favorite book, and Shiny used to read it to me all the time!"
"And you would like me to read it to you?"
"Yes," she admitted. Twilight looked at the floor.
To Princess Celestia, it was quite plain that Twilight Sparkle had thought she sounded so silly when she had first asked. Poor Twilight likely felt even sillier now that the princess was holding her book.
Celestia flipped over the book, glancing at the illustrations on the back. Like the letters on the front, they were faded as well and the book's summary was unreadable in the dimly lit hallway.
"Well, Twilight, I must admit that there is a problem here. Do you know what it is?"
Twilight studied the carpet very carefully.
"Do you think I can read this in the dark?"
Twilight looked up quickly, violet eyes wide with surprise. "Really, Princess? This isn't a joke? You're... okay with reading to me."
Celestia offered her student a small smile and then nodded down the hall. "You are my student, Twilight Sparkle. Getting to know you is important to me."
Twilight looked as if she was about to protest or question something — and Celestia was thankful when she didn't.
...
Celestia closed the door behind her carefully. She waited with her lips pursued in a dark room until even the echo of her hoofsteps had all but left her mind. A single word was taking up the mental space where the dying melody had been.
Different.
It was a word that had caused so much strife for Celestia. They — her and another dear to her heart — had been different from the tribes, ponies, and all form of mortal creatures. For it, Celestia and her companion had suffered terribly, and their various abuses were even deemed acceptable. Her companion... Celestia would think of her differently as time wore on; the one who she called her companion was her kin, and what broke them in the north broke their bond too. However, it was only when they came south again to the lands of four seasons and plenty did the tears really begin to show — and Celestia had not helped then, but she would give anything to go back and do so forever and again. The many different thoughts and behaviors would lead her kin to be shunned by her own nation and—
Celestia swallowed and the quick recollection of a prophecy vanished, one that still only hung as probably-true in her heart. She might need them later. Though, part of her wished that she might not, for the sake of Twilight Sparkle and her novels of vegetable gardens and missing fathers. She did not wish to have Twilight Sparkle as the student she must eventually gamble, who must be the destined Spark cast from the fire that was her teacher and into—
And still, part of her wished that words once dismissed as prattle could be true. This was, of course, only for the sake of some greater balance and the things and ponies swept up in it: broken hearts and missing kin. Princess Celestia hoped that 'different' wouldn't be wrong this time, that the thorns of that word would not show. That Twilight Sparkle would not wind up in stone. With a shaky breath as her prayer, she wanted Twilight Sparkle to never know the vices of power that could steer her to hurt others so that only one like Celestia could ever stand in her way. She prayed that Twilight Sparkle would not be beyond control at any point in her life under Celestia's sun, not when a prophecy rested solely upon her mortal withers.
And with the knowledge of after all these years, there would be no more tears to choke back lest those words are honestly true. Princess Celestia wished that Twilight Sparkle would not be different enough to be impossibly far away from any who hold her dear and that they might never have to strike out her name until she barely clung to memory.
She did not want Twilight Sparkle to be that kind of legend, the kind that left those who survived her having to say she was a story.
Celestia did not want Twilight Sparkle to be different — full stop — even though she had to be.
After all was done, Celestia locked the door, sealing it with a tap of her horn. She watched as the ripple of gold extended from her horn before she moved on to lighting the room. In no mood to light any proper lamps or risk a true fire, she lit her horn and a group of werelights, each bobbing like a school of fish. All of them were pale gold, like weak miniature suns, and swam in the air.
Or a sky full of the frailest stars. Celestia tried not to close her eyes and remember the filly who would create dozens of eccentric and unusual uses for blue lights like arcane fireflies — each had been infused with a magic light of Otherness that Celestia could not replicate. She was glad she could not produce that same, haunting quality just as much as she missed it. Instead, Princess Celestia drew her focus in the direction of the wall-to-ceiling bookshelves. Each was neatly packed tomes that any polymath of magical fields and skill would likely sell their souls for. They were not hidden away and rotting in some derelict cellar — at least not anymore — but the public had no access to them, nor would they ever. Even Twilight Sparkle would never get the chance to breathe on them. These books weren't Celestia's, not really. She was only keeping the most... interesting selections from the library of her old home, and as a result, these books had become hers and hers alone.
The mare who had originally worked out so much of their contents would despise Celestia if she knew this. Let Luna hate her more. That was Celestia's usual answer for herself. If it was destined, so be it. Luna had reason to stoke her own wrath at her so-called 'art' being in the hooves of Celestia, who had never had the heart or mind to see it the same as Luna had.
Very little in the books could be described as inherently forbidden, just advanced. Even for the time they had been published at, these books were boasting knowledge that had been made illegal, for it was brimming with all the secrets of old-and-forgotten civilizations and older gods — Alicorn gods. This meant that the age of the text written in them was not what was advanced, not when most of it had been authored in the post-Discord days by Luna's own hoof. Ponies still lived in rain, ruin, and huts in those days.
Carefully, Celestia levitated a book from the place where it had gathered dust for so long and began to flip through a few pages. All she could do was murmur a few wishes for her mind to be at its clearest so that she might have insight into all the enigmas that Luna had been able to weave. She bit her lip as she looked at all the scribbles and margin notes. She glanced at crossed-out paragraphs replaced with scrawled codes, pictographs, and mirror writing that spelled out half-tested theories and notes of cautious speculation and estimates. The sheer state of the marginalia reeked of madness and was twisted in on itself with paranoid hornwriting.
She remembered the mare who wrote them — she was the one Celestia could never forget. While she hadn't been some great, socially-accepted archmage or any renowned scholar, Luna's notes were sure to have merit for what Celestia so desperately needed. After all, her sister had made many observations and magical experiments of her own, though they had lacked the formality and some of the adherence to the stricter rules of magical study that Celestia favored. Of course, they were so beyond any mortal magic that Celestia had ever seen, even in the present age, which was precisely what made these tomes all the more fearful.
But if she could decode some of the things that her lost Luna had written...
Celestia drew a sharp breath when her coat came in contact with one of the werelights, warming her white coat briefly. Unpleasantly, even.
She laid the book down on the nearby, forlorn table without a word. Then, Princess Celestia located a small wooden end table overshadowed by the many bookshelves that towered over it. From a small drawer, she withdrew a blank notebook, an inkwell, and quills. Each was caked with numerous layers of dust thick enough to eat if Celestia were to do such a dreadful thing.
Her habit of biting her lip a certain way had never vanished after all these years, only lessened. It meant that she was worried about somepony.
Somepony very special, who at long last might have a chance to come home if Princess Celestia made all the right moves. If the prophecy could really be true.
Quill scratches were the only sound in the small library, filled with an incomplete collection of private tomes that the sun princess struggled to decode even a few lines of. She stared at the holes that marked missing words in entire sentences. Closing her eyes, she thought of the young Twilight Sparkle asleep in her bed, a few chapters of her favorite novel no doubt infecting her dreams while a single word haunted the princess: different.
Twilight Sparkle was different — as much as Celestia loathed to admit it — she had as much potential as any other student of Celestia's, maybe even a bit more if her cutie mark was to be taken into consideration. None of Celestia's previous curriculum would suffice for this Faithful Student, not if the prophecy that would soar beyond potential and cutie marks. She'd need to incorporate something more effective than mere magic theory — an altered version of Luna's research would do nicely if she could make it compatible with her teaching methods and the intensity of the workload she had saddled her previous students with. Only now, there would be a sharpened goal. A destined purpose that made Celestia thirst for that completion more than any wicked journey.
This time, the title of Faithful Student would really mean something.
...
Celestia stood outside Twilight Sparkle's chamber. There was a hot mug of coffee adorned with a smiling sun grasped in her magic, along with a notebook of ideas for magic exercises and a textbook of standard magical theory, though unfortunately the latter would not prove to be as useful. It wasn't anything that could be found in a public academy — any pictures and a majority of other visuals had been reduced to make room for text meant for adult unicorns. It was the same theory she used on all Faithful Students, regardless of their age or ability, and now it would only be an instrument to standardize one-of-a-kind (courtesy of Luna's indirect ghost-writing) divine-authored education.
The princess had looked over the materials she had chosen late into the night, and it was not merely caffeine that buzzed with the songs of exhaustion she had to mask. In her head, she was not sure if any of these materials could suit a ten-year-old like Twilight. Not when most of her Faithful Students were thirteen at their lowest — nine-year-old Sunset Shimmer being the only exception. Twilight had taken the entrance exam in 992 of Celestia's Solar Millennium, but her tutelage had to be delayed even though she was the youngest ever unicorn to pass the entrance exam. She had so little separation from her family in her young life that it was too difficult not to see the same six-year-old that Princess Celestia had first met. Such was the wealth of innocence that Twilight Sparkle possessed, and why it made it so easy for Celestia to still proclaim that Twilight Sparkle was the youngest of them all.
She took a short sip of her coffee, wishing she had added a little more cream. Bitterness in any form was bothersome, and like her emotions, she always had to mask it thoroughly. The image of a sun on it only smiled up at her in response. She smiled absently at the extremely foalish drawing. It may have been cheesy, but she still liked it.
Celestia reached out a forehoof and knocked again. The door was flung open and the coat of magenta magic over it faded and dissolved, revealing a little filly hugging a doll with bright, spotted pants and a clock to her chest. It must have been one of the many surprises from home that Twilight had packed away, for Princess Celestia had not seen it before. None of her other Faithful Students had been young enough to still have brought toys with them — at least, it was usually what Celestia would expect to be a phase that didn't last. Sunset Shimmer had craved maturity most unnaturally, and Twilight Sparkle was just so babyish in comparison.
"Did I sleep in?" Twilight Sparkle blinked up at her princess with an unbrushed mane and large, damp eyes. There was a whisper of worry corked in her young voice.
"You only slept in ten minutes, Twi—"
"T-Ten minutes...?" Twilight's eyes flashed with slowly dawning horror, as raw as it could be at her age. "How much did I miss? Are there any quizzes that I need to catch up on?"
"Nothing, Twilight—"
"Will I have to do extra credit assignments to make up for this?"
"You didn't miss anything—"
"I haven't even started my lessons and I'm already failing!"
"You aren't failing anything, Twilight Sparkle."
The little filly loosened the choking grip she had on her doll. "I'm not?"
"That's right. I came up here to offer you a simple reminder that the lessons were starting today. I imagine you'd want breakfast as well, and I'm not one to withhold pancakes from a little filly. The castle kitchen always has them on the first days — you do want them to get to know what food you like, don't you? They'll be making all your meals from now on."
Normally, the Faithful Students of Princess Celestia always jumped at the chance to eat a rich breakfast prepared by the staff at the kitchen, but Twilight Sparkle wrinkled up her muzzle instead. Celestia did not think it was because she had any distaste for the renowned chefs who worshipfully used their talents catered to the tastes of the sun goddess. Twilight Sparkle's parents had mailed a whole home-stapled booklet — divided into volumes, no less — about all the behaviors of Twilight Sparkle. They had been their daughter's only carers in life and never had Celestia been faced with having a filly with quite the hunger for order, desire for adult dictation, and specific environmental needs that Twilight Sparkle would have. She already needed a duo of royal guards to calm her meltdown when there hadn't been enough sticky-tabs to help sort her junior encyclopedias and Daring Do based on a filly-crafted decimal system.
"I'm not failing anything?" Twilight echoed with such palpable nervousness already sending her young legs into trembles.
"That is correct," Celestia repeated, adjusting the position of the notebook from last night, lest it fall to the ground and the papers within scatter onto the floor.
"Princess, if I'm not failing... how come you didn't tell me?"
Princess Celestia smiled kindly and suggested that they go find Twilight something to eat, her right eye twitching once, and only faintly.
Twilight Sparkle was going to be very different alright.
Sunset Shimmer scowled and quelled the embers of aura forming on her horn. The sparks of fire as lively and vibrant as her coat vanished with a haze of cyan. Instead of a soft twinkling sound, there was an audible, temperamental pop to the magic. The thirteen-year-old filly took a deep breath, though it was one of disbelief rather than exhaustion. Then, she looked Princess Celestia directly in the eyes.
"What do you mean 'that's it'?"
Celestia brushed a few cinders off her withers and remained aloof. It was as though no gray speckles of debris had marred her coat in the first place, such was how immaculate her expression was. "Oh, my Faithful Student, I meant exactly what I said, Sunset. I don't need to see any more of your spell. You have failed this test, and I am sure you will do much better next time. Please review your instructions better for—"
Sunset blinked back ash-induced tears. Her muzzle was crinkled up and she tried to shoot the princess an icy gaze. "What's wrong with my spell?"
"I asked if you could hit all the targets on the tarp above us, and with no more than three bolts of fire maximum." Princess Celestia nodded up to the tarp hanging just above them, previously pulled too taut to sway. Except now, it was punctured perfectly in all but the last carefully painted target. Each hole was like a wound in some brightly colored silken flesh. The frayed edges bled ashes down on the goddess and unicorn below, the majority of the stuff settling on the head of the latter like a misshaped crown.
"I used one bolt of fire for all of them! Princess, I almost hit every single one! I was able to control the flame perfectly and—"
Princess Celestia cut her student off with a mere wave of her hoof. "You are too arrogant, my Faithful Student. I am afraid that pride fits nopony, and is what perches in the heads of so many and convinces them to shut their ears to the word of others. Do you want to be that kind of pony?"
Sunset pulled back from the princess' reach, her eyes narrowing with a verbal sting Princess Celestia couldn't recall giving. "Too arrogant? There was nothing in the rules you set down that I couldn't do this! I practiced that spell for weeks, just like you—"
"Are you suggesting that you looked to bend the rules of this assignment for your own pleasure? The rules exist for a reason, Sunset. Why do you continue to seek to disobey the rules I have made for your education? Why must you be so focused on pride?"
A small spark too light next to Sunset Shimmer, but she angrily stopped it out with a forehoof. "Of course there are rules! Magic can't exist without rules..." Sunset took a heaving breath fit for an unruly child, "...but the rules you've been teaching me by... they're beyond rigorous, Princess! They're... They feel wrong! You never give me anything to challenge myself! What can I possibly take pride in? I've been wasting so much of my potential... if I have any left. I wanted to challenge myself, since you won't."
"Sunset, you are not here—" Princess Celestia swept a wing to indicate Canterlot Castle behind them, "—for the purpose of being challenged. You are my Faithful Student because you have great power that you need to learn to keep in check. Most of all, you have proven that you have enormous potential which—"
Sunset Shimmer stamped her hoof with such blatant disobedience that Princess Celestia barely had time to control the flush of her face and bury it. "What's the point of me having the potential to do anything if I never put it to use?! I don't feel like a Faithful Student at all; I'm not learning anything other than rules! Your rules, that's all I've really been learning! My own cutie mark tells me I'm supposed to play with fire—it feels right! I could finally do something that feels right!"
"Sunset—"
"Am I just some sort of trophy to you, Princess? It doesn't feel like being a Faithful Student is meant to be anything at all. Come on, won't you please tell me? What's the point? You keep acting like it's gonna be me — or one of the previous ones — that is meant to be the best of the best. But in five years, it sure seems like all that being a Faithful Student entails is prestige and more library privileges. Oh, and I get to ogle at myself in the stupid castle pillars."
"Sunset Shimmer," Princess Celestia cautioned, her tone stern and almost cold. The spitfire of a filly ignored every hint of her mentor's warning.
"The last Faithful Student became a college professor. All she ever did was die old and... now she's just a portrait in the halls of the castle or a name to have on one of the campus buildings of your school. If we're so special then why did Gusty just... fade from everything?"
Princess Celestia cleared her throat with the utmost, highly frustrating degree of politeness. "Sunset, Gusty did not 'fade' and you shouldn't speak of what you don't understand— "
"I feel like I'm just supposed to be some kind of ornament instead of a real pony."
Celestia looked appalled. "You are a real pony, Sunset. Why would you believe that you weren't? Just what do you think other ponies would say if they heard you say something so negative? Why in the heavens' name would you ever say something so morbid and cynical?"
"I'm not treated like one, maybe? I don't want to be a good filly who stays at your side forever."
"Sunset, who is telling you these awful things?" Princess Celestia took a step toward her Faithful Student, and Sunset took one away from the sun goddess' advancing shadow. Instead of looking spurned, Princess Celestia's eyes flooded with just a trickle of worry clouded with a whole storm of confusion.
"Actions speak louder than words, Princess. You told me that. I wonder if it's really true. 'Cause you sure think that your shadow is big enough to live in based on what you show."
"Sunny— "
"Don't call me that anymore! You're not my grandmother!" Sunset shrieked. She turned away and began to storm back towards the castle. As she went away from the garden grounds, a stray wave of Sunset's magic rippled across her coat and down to her hooves. As she galloped faster and faster, the black jacket she always liked to wear flowing in the wind.
Princess Celestia looked around the hedge maze pavilion and sighed, brushing a few ashes on the ground with her wingtips, pushing them under a topiary wall until everything looked clean again. Another lesson went wrong, and all because of another one of Sunset Shimmer's tantrums. There was an awful routine to the filly's lashing out, and this was nowhere near the ugliest. Disobedience and moodiness were the hallmarks of adolescence, and there was little else that the princess could think of that would cause such issues — especially when they clearly lay within Sunset Shimmer's own heart. The princess had never had a pre-teen for a student before, since before Sunset the youngest pony who was fit for the picking of a Faithful Student's role was usually fourteen to start with.
At last, Princess Celestia tutted and then quietly began to clean everything up again. In ten minutes it looked as if nothing had happened and she began her flight back to the castle.
...
At dinner, they had their worst fight yet, and both of them trotted away thinking that they were right.
...
Dear Sunset,
I have allowed you your space tonight after your two outbursts. This amount is certainly unheard of from you, and I am going to need you to start doing better in the future. Even if this unstructured solitude is not an incentive that I would normally permit, I will allow it this once, provided you show signs that you have used it properly. My office will be open for you to slide any apology letters and lines under the door at least two hours later than usual, and if you wish to rehearse something tomorrow morning, I shall accept that too. We could even discuss making it worthy of bonus points for your manners class. I understand that you are frustrated with your studies and the speed of your progress. Acting out is no way to express this, nor is withdrawing from the open hooves of other ponies a proper way to cope. You are biting my hoof at this point, and should not be surprised when I find that unmannerly and unacceptable.
After tomorrow, I would like to see you start to open up and begin to focus less on yourself. Though I say this gently, I do not ask this. When it comes to your behavior, I am no longer asking for kindness. Never before have I met anypony who dared think that kindness was optional, and I see that in order for you to learn properly, adjustments will have to be made. One of those is quite obvious — you think that other ponies will listen to you without you learning to listen to them and respect your elders. When adults tell you to do things — whether that is me or the castle staff — you cannot be questioning them or speaking out. Shocking, bitter things spoil other ponies' days and have no place in your lessons or my castle. Your worry will fade as you communicate more openly, and I promise I will be more open to listening to your venting if you practice kindness and obedience more. Your pride will be able to transform into something healthier, and all your negativity will be cleared if you fling those worrying questions from your mind. I see how much they interrupt your learning.
I will not allow a Faithful Student to have behavior that is so destructive. You are in clear need of friends, and I don't want you to be crumpling this as soon as you read this line. I do not assign you too much work that you can't make friends, Sunset Helia Shimmer. I assign you the same workload that I would my other Faithful Students at your level, and my lessons are age-blind. My curriculum is well-appreciated by all who know of it, and in all the time I have maintained Faithful Students, there has never been any unicorn who couldn't learn from it. You should be no different. If this kind of antisocial behavior keeps up, I know that you know the conditions of your studies is not wholly unknown to you. If I find that for any reason you are an unsatisfactory pupil, your Faithful Studenthood contract may be discontinued at any time. This was discussed with your grandmother when she signed my papers regarding your transfer from my School of Gifted Unicorns to a Faithful Student.
I will spell things out for you here and now, as simply as they must be: you are going to begin to make friends. I am not going to discontinue your studies, but they will not resume until you have made at least one friend. If needed, I will work the same social program I use for my unicorns at my school on you — you will be assigned a group of three other unicorns as friends. While this works best with the traditional grade-level system, I'm afraid we would have to go down drastically in order to consider your age above your skills to encourage appropriate socialization. These friends will be as mandatory as your homework assignments, and I'll be hearing absolutely nothing about how much you dislike them. Ever since she has gotten here, I have received nothing but ill reports about how you have treated Princess Cadance. You will not bully these ponies, or I absolutely will terminate your Studenthood contract — any breach in what is an appropriate relationship count towards the discontinuation of your studies. Whether that relationship is with me — as we have unfortunately had to discuss in the past — or towards anypony else, like my staff or your peers.
(Yes, you do have peers. No matter how much you refuse to acknowledge them.)
If you cannot make friends appropriately, I will end my lenience with you. And I will be deeply sorry to see all your potential to leave with you. Let tomorrow bring an optimistic, kind, and generous Faithful Student to await my morning dictation. I highly suggest making amends with Princess Cadance when this project has become something you're more used to. Do you think I haven't seen you two talking at the past two Summer Celebrations? She is somepony who would have made a great friend if you were not so wicked towards her. She may be older than you, but she is gentle and good at telling jokes. You two would have a hard time not getting along if you had put more effort into not yelling about her having both a horn and wings or being so snide. All of those things are highly unbecoming of the young lady that you are.
By dawn, I do think you will reconsider the harsh words that you spoke to me. I may have forgiven you for them, but they were unnecessary, and I expect you to recognize this too. I know that you are a very smart young mare — but the extent of focus you've devoted to your studying is unnatural. There is more to life than the mastery of magical arts and the solitary state you've withdrawn to. Since you arrived from Tall Tale, I have seen the light inside you die down until I was faced with the embers you are today. That was very surprising for me to see since I can't understand where that light would have gone. I see that you enjoy your studies, but power is not something you should be seeking.
Your astronomy books no doubt put great focus on their illustrations of the sun — some for the sake of style, though more likely to flatter me — but somepony long ago once told me that all the stars were just suns far away. Ponies have managed to make telescopes that can see very far away, but none that have been able to tell if this is true. I am inclined to doubt this, since it feels quite ill of destiny. We would not be alone in this world if that were true, and I need you to understand that what I just showed you is healthy, realistic, normal skepticism. What you are is rude towards other ponies' kindness, which is not appreciated.
However, let us pretend for the sake of this letter that the stars-as-suns (my, how inappropriate it feels to make that plural) is true. I know you want to be the sun and light all that is around you. Nopony is the sun. Not even I am truly like that, and I cannot bring myself to think of myself so highly. You are not the sun, and contrary to how I may be styled neither am I. All of us are different ways to light the world, Sunnybun, and you are among my many perfect subjects — all of you are my little candles. I know that you'll learn this lesson too, and accept your destiny.
Your Teacher,
Princess Celestia
...
Princess Celestia stood outside the same room that a young Twilight Sparkle would eventually call her own. She was a couple of minutes early but wanted to see if Sunset would try to make an offer to reconcile before ushering her off to breakfast. Only then would she consider switching their conversations to social concerns instead of magical matters. It would be the perfect way to ease Sunset Shimmer into her new routine, one that would seek to change her from a hellion to a heavens-sent beacon of benevolence.
A moment passed and she still waited. Sunset was most likely applying the black cosmetics she liked to wear and would be out shortly. There were days when Sunset Shimmer hadn't worn her black-on-black ensembles at all. Those days were long-gone, each packed away into the memory of Princess Celestia, who could still recall Sunset as a fresh-faced nine-year-old. What on earth had happened to that filly? Where had her little candle, her tiniest ray of sunshine gone? Why had the Sunset Shimmer that Princess Celestia wanted slipped away from her life? The very Sunset Shimmer she would have been destined to need?
Celestia sighed and rubbed her eyes with a forehoof, taking another sip of coffee from her mug. The color was of some plain color between slate gray and purple that had reminded her of twilight skies.
Her gilded shoe knocked upon the door. Once. Twice.
When no reply was given she promptly pushed the door open with her hoof, and found it gave away easily.
The letter she slipped under Sunset's door last night was still there, but it was kicked aside slightly and torn open angrily. Had Sunset exited her room at some point in the night? Princess Celestia sure thought so; she had left the door to Sunset's room in the Faithful Student chambers unlocked. This was both to foster Sunset's openness to delivering her apology — which she had not done last night — and because Sunset Shimmer was of the age where the princess no longer worried about having to keep her door locked when she slept.
She looked in Sunset's bed, pulling away the covers like a young foal might rip off a bandage. The only color beneath the pale blue sheets was the soft gray of shadows from the bed's canopy. Each was cast in all shades upon a row of sloppily bunched up pillows.
"Twilight, no! The fate of Equestria depends on you being able to defeat—"
The words of Princess Cadance were cut short. It was just as a young Twilight reached out and grabbed the cardboard airship from the shaky grasp of Cadance's magic, yanking the passenger out of the cardboard container-turned-afternoon-art-project. The little filly collapsed onto the checkered picnic blanket, clutching her doll to her chest in a crushing hug.
"No, no, no!" she squeaked as much as her little lungs would allow. "Smarty's not evil! She has to be the hero! Cady, she needs to win! Please-please-please don't let me loose Miss Smarty Pants!"
Cadance blinked her lilac eyes. She was pondering what to do and tugging at her bright, girly blue bow. Cadance pulled it into place as if readjusting her mane could improve her creative thinking. "Twily, I thought you wanted to be the hero—"
"No, I'm not brave enough to face that," Twilight whispered. The little filly pulled Smarty Pants closer to her chest. In the next instant, she was waving a hoof in the direction of the lunchbox-sized construction that Cadance had placed her doll in. Twilight's tiny forehoof trembled with fear as her foalsitter's gaze followed the gesture to its source.
"What's wrong with the ship?" Cadance asked. "It looks just like the one you saw with Shiny and me yesterday."
"Nu-uh," Twilight pouted, "The one I saw with you and BBBFF. wasn't like that one... it's so scary!"
To remedy her confusion, Cadance withdrew the only cure-all she had from the picnic basket next to her — a large bag of sour keys. While she listened to Twilight Sparkle's woes, she began to nibble one of the candies in deepening thought.
She could handle Twilight Sparkle quite well, being the only filly she foal-sat — and thus her favorite. Sure, the little filly was gifted, but her social abilities were non-existent due to how sheltered the little one was. Twilight's parents hadn't been able to keep her in any grade above magic kindergarten, since she took to all the materials too quickly, but the actual social requirements and routines required to do well had let the little lavender filly to have one too many autistic burn-outs, panic attacks, and tantrums. There wasn't a single friend that Twilight Sparkle had made, and Twilight Velvet and Nightlight were right to pull their poor, frightened, unable-to-go-on daughter into homeschooling. Why, with all the inflexibility Twilight craved, she was practically made for such an upbringing.
Cadance was an excellent foalsitter when she was needed. Under her care and minimum tutelage, Twilight Sparkle had only been the cause of three out of the five arcane fires in the family's kitchen that occurred in the past year. Twilight's parents could rest easy knowing their daughter had something like a friend outside of the family.
She was the all-powerful sitter of foals, and of course, knew exactly what to do.
Cadance's life was together.
By the tenth sour key, she realized she had no idea what to do.
"Uh, Twilight?"
Twilight lowered Smarty Pants from her face when she realized Cadance wasn't going to be absorbing the sour keys at such an ungodly speed any longer.
"Yes, Cady?" The little filly gave her foal-sitter the most innocent of blinks.
"Just what is so horrific about the ship I made you?"
Twilight's somber gaze met Cadance's confused one. She leaned closer and whispered carefully, with all the seriousness and terror the precocious filly could muster: "It's not to scale."
Cadance blinked and eyed the bag of sour keys once more. Twilight gulped when she noticed this vaguely exasperated gesture.
"Yep," her foalsitter chirped, "Makes sense. Not to scale. Very scary stuff. Got it."
"We could always buy a model one from the fancy stores. Shiny had one, but it broke." Twilight looked shifty at the last statement but chose to continue when Cadance didn't react. "I've been saving up some bits for new books but..."
"But what?" Cadance asked excitedly.
"I have a birthday coming up," Twilight finished with an adorable grin. The warm May winds sweeping through the park and stirring her neat, dark bangs.
Cadance knew foals. She knew when they wanted something. And she would have bet a wing and a foreleg that if she caved into Twilight's expectant purple gaze that she would be taking the first step into turning this little tyke into a little tyrant.
She already had a birthday present picked out for Twilight Sparkle anyway...
"That's nice, Twily. I'll be sure to remember that, but right now I don't have the bits—"
"Shiny says you have an entire store of bits for emergencies." Twilight's smile widens into a bright little grin, and her eyes are as shiny as the gold coins she is so clearly envisioning. "Doesn't your super-rich auntie still let you have an allowance?"
"Yes," Cadance admitted, trying not to crumple her candy bag. "But it's for emergencies—"
"Shiny also says you consider owning under twenty-six pairs of leg warmers a crisis."
Cadance nodded vigorously, letting her pulled-up mane bob with the gesture. "Could you imagine the horror, Twily? A world without leg warmers is like a world without sunshine."
"...Everypony would die?" Twilight skeptically offered.
"Exactly!"
It was Twilight's turn to blink. Just as she was about to reply she heard two voices coming closer, her small ears pricked to find their source. Cadance too looked over to the two figures approaching them. When she caught sight of who they were, she smiled at Shining Armor and the princess. "Hi, Shiny! Hi Auntie!"
Princess Celestia nodded ever-so-slightly as she approached. Meanwhile, Shining Armor started chatting about something with Cadance, who rose from the blanket her and Twilight had been playing on after waving to the filly with the promise to come back soon. Twilight nodded very carefully and nervously tilted her head up to look at the goddess in front of her. Princess Celestia didn't notice the little filly at first, and her shadow swallowed Twilight Sparkle, Smarty Pants, and their picnic blanket.
"Good afternoon, Princess Celestia," Twilight offered, bobbing her head in a slight bow.
Little Twilight Sparkle had never been this close to a divine creature. If she didn't know better she'd say that the princess looked a bit sad... the kind of sadness somepony might have when they forgot their favorite toy at home, and would only get to see it when they returned. It was the kind that stayed bottled up in somepony's eyes while the rest of them stayed sunshine-bright. On Twilight Sparkle's first day (and attempt) at public academy magic kindergarten, there was a little filly who had those kinds of eyes, and all because she forgot her security blanket.
And then, Twilight saw the majestic princess nod, and return her smiling gesture. Twilight couldn't imagine a mare so beautiful and kind upset with anypony or anything good, so she gave the goddess the biggest grin she had.
"What is your name, little one?" The question was not as special as Twilight Sparkle may have wished. It was to be asked of any of Princess Celestia's subjects. Anypony at all could be a 'little one' in comparison to this swan of a mare who ruled over tadpoles.
"T-Twilight. Twilight Sparkle," was all she could stammer out.
The filly had no idea that it was common for Equestrian ponies to swallow their tongues and lose track of their words in front of this mare. But Twilight Sparkle had no idea, and instead tried to duck her head as humbly as possible. That way, she could hide her blush. She had meant to say that she was Twilight Sparkle of Canterlot, daughter of Twilight Velvet, and Nightlight — it was the proper way for anypony to introduce themselves.
The faintest, vaguest recognition was a-flicker in the rose eyes of the princess, which was a rare sight. "And you are Shining Armor's little sister?"
"Yep! He's really good at magic — have you seen his shield spells, Miss Your Princess-ness?"
Much to the filly's surprise, Princess Celestia laughed softly — so softly that the sound would have gone unnoticed if it weren't for the slight change in her features. However, Twilight Sparkle was too young and unaware to detect the hollow tones within. The very ones that hinted at unspoken grief held by the princess.
"Yes, I have seen your brother's shield spells. They are certainly something for his comrades to be proud of."
"Yes, of course! He works super hard on them, Your Most Royal Majesty!"
Princess Celestia nodded in response, keeping herself serene as ever in her half-attentive state. Her attention briefly wavering as she watched some of her subjects strolling in the distance, with Cadance, and Shining Armor among them. Her expression remained flawlessly calm despite her heavy heart, and she looked over at the young colt. If he weren't already a guard in training... would he have what it takes to be a Faithful Student?
No... he isn't bad, exactly. Shining Armor is humble, generous, and kind... but something's missing...
The princess held back a sigh that she wouldn't risk anypony hearing. Celestia turned back to devote her attention to the little blank-flanked filly who had been talking to her.
...Why is something always missing?
"What about you, Twilight Sparkle?" Celestia asked, centuries of experience as a ruler steering her thoughts in the direction of the idle chat. "Is there anything that you work hard at?"
...What is it about them that never makes them enough?
Twilight dragged her hoof through the grass. Then she lowered her eyes and remembered what her parents had told her about boasting and how unhappy it made them. Twilight certainly didn't want to make her parents unhappy and trying to lift their perfectly ordinary family above others in the community was a nasty thing to do — especially when talking to a divine princess.
"No, not really. It's not that I'm lazy or anything, Shiny just works so much harder in comparison! He's going to make a great guard in the future, Princess!"
"I'm sure he will," Celestia responded easily, a plain smile gracing her features.
She recalled her conversation with the easy-going, talkative youth. Her niece had been bringing up the brother in conversation much more, and the princess decided she had to meet this young cadet in a setting where she could get an idea of his character outside of his armor — to see the stallion he might become. A moment later, Cadance's voice called her away and she dipped her head in a brief good-bye nod to Twilight Sparkle, not knowing that they would meet again when the filly's name had all but faded from her mind — because until that moment, it would be some time before Princess Celestia would have a reason to remember Twilight Sparkle.
At dinner, they had their worst fight yet, and both of them trotted away thinking that they were right.
...
Sunset Shimmer was sitting alone when Princess Celestia found her, which was exactly as expected. The dining area where Sunset Shimmer took all her meals was not exclusive to the Faithful Student, but simply a tidy little area that was one of many. The decor of a long table and identical, refined chairs of the same colors decorating the castle were spread with a large tablecloth adorned with various sun sigils identical to Celestia’s cutie mark. It was an area where castle servants took their meals. Since Princess Celestia could never justify isolating her Faithful Students or spoiling them so thoroughly with their own dining room, she had taken to having them combine their routines with castle staff centuries ago, at least where it was possible.
When Sunset saw Princess Celestia approach, she tensed up oddly, her posture stiffening proudly in a sudden jolt. That single scrap of evident pride was enough to make Celestia want to sigh already. Why must this one prove to be a firecracker of all the worst kinds of temperament? And what was it that caused Sunset to behave so darn oddly?
At least the broccoli that Sunset Shimmer was stabbing so harshly with her fork would be relieved.
“Good evening, my Faithful Student,” Princess Celestia said kindly as she sat down across from the young unicorn.
The servant’s chair groaning under the immense weight of the princess filled the room where Sunset’s response should have.
Sunset’s fork skidded across her plate, and she glared down at the remainder of the steamed carrots and mashed potatoes left there. They both knew that for Princess Celestia to dine outside of her usual roulette of locations — the gardens, her own dining quarters, one of the castle’s balconies, the formal feasting hall, among others during a ballroom celebration — was unprecedented.
At least, it was only unprecedented when Sunset Shimmer was behaving. The princess was quite adamant that whenever her Faithful Student did something just a smidge less than stellar, it was a time for a one-on-one talk. To express displeasure towards Sunset’s actions in front of other ponies was… deeply inconsiderate. One-on-one conversations and taking time together in these situations were the perfect way for Sunset to display her full range of temper without upsetting the staff — or embarrassing Celestia.
She had already received enough complaints and worried whisperings from her employees regarding smashed trinkets hurled by a temperamental little unicorn or the violent displays of pyromancy she used to weld her doors shut. Having to explain to the housekeepers and repair-ponies that she was already on the eighth replacement door was more bearable than letting any of her other ponies know that their ever-sweet Princess Celestia could raise her voice.
“You didn’t bring anything to eat,” Sunset Shimmer said eventually, staring at the empty air where a plate would have been.
Princess Celestia responded by smiling down more brightly upon her pupil, and folding her forehooves ever more primly upon the table. “I wasn’t hungry, little one.”
“I’m thirteen, Your Highness. That’s not exactly little anymore,” came the resentful, half-mumbled reply.
“All my ponies are bit ‘little’ compared to me, don’t you think?” Princess Celestia said instead, leaning forward slightly. It was the best she could do to spin Sunset’s ever-unwanted attitude into something positive.
Huffing, Sunset faltered in aiming her telekinesis at one, especially small carrot slice. The following screech that the fork made against the plate made them both wince.
“What have I told you about table manners before?” Celestia tutted. “My goodness, are you abusing a salad fork for your dinner? Didn’t we talk about these things before, hm?”
Sunset’s fork fell from her magic and clattered onto her plate. “Stop it.”
Those two words coming out through clenched teeth barely resonated above the sound of the abuse of Celestia’s poor silverware, but the princess drew back. She blinked multiple times, obviously momentarily stunned before resting a hoof on her chest. That single gesture reset her composure in a nearly mechanical manner.
“Sunny, we need to talk, and we need to do it now. Especially if you think that you can talk to your teacher that way. Good heavens, all you’ve been doing is quarreling with me. How do you think other ponies would feel if they knew you treated me this way?”
“It’s not like I ever see anypony else,” Sunset pouted, ducking her eyes away from the princess. The black eyeshadow she wore over them made it seem like they were being swallowed by darkness — it was exactly the kind of cosmetic choice that made Celestia wonder why anypony would wish to look so grouchy and unfriendly.
“And with that negative attitude, do you ever think about why? If you focused more on completing your assignments as I gave them and treating everypony with the kindness they deserve—”
Sunset’s jaw clenched visibly. Loudly, even.
This time, Princess Celestia actually sighed. “Sunny, don’t grind your teeth, it’s bad—”
“Everything I do is bad, isn’t it?”
Tutting, Celestia shook her head. The gesture made her mane swirl and wave so that the bright, soft rainbow made Sunset Shimmer look that much more diminutive in Celestia’s wake. The chair groaned under her again.
“No, that has never been the case, my Faithful Student. You’ve done many very nice things.”
An odd, half-sniffling, half-moody sighing sound exited Sunset’s dramatically opened mouth. The gesture was painfully foalish to the princess. “Yeah? Like what, Your Highness?”
When Celestia saw that Sunset was moving her magic to pick up her fork again — likely to tap on her plate with unneeded impatience, as the little tween often did — the princess had to move quickly. She placed a hoof firmly on the fork, swiftly keeping Sunset from getting a grip on it before sliding it over to the side of the table she occupied.
“Well…” Princess Celestia began, folding her forehooves over the fork for good measure.
She kept her expression perfectly polite as Sunset bit back a scowl that was just so, so easily detected.
“See!” Sunset shrieked to nopony, an adolescent crack corrupting her outburst into something that sounded too pained to come from such a young filly. “I knew it! I knew it! I absolutely knew it! You always loved Cadance more—”
“Volume, Sunset Shimmer,” interrupted Princess Celestia with a chilly whisper.
Sunset Shimmer froze, eyes wide and fixed on her teacher’s unfaltering demure expression. She sank back into her chair with a slack thump that was far more befitting of a doll than a growing filly.
Her expression didn’t falter — making it the perfect chance to get a few words in.
“I’ve never wanted to fight with you. I can’t imagine a pony alive that does, my Faithful Student. But the reality is that you have an itty-bitty tendency to be impolite, unkind, and a very immodest streak. These are things that will pass with time, but I can’t foresee it happening until you have mastered a very important lesson.”
Why were Sunset’s withers shaking?
“Do you remember what the lesson is?”
There was that crooked, sloppy way Sunset tightened her jaw again. “N-no, ma’am.”
“I think it was one of the most important lessons I ever had for you. Do you remember when you were eleven, and you had, ah, a magical outburst for sending a Mother’s Day card to your grandmother? And we had to have a little talk about why you couldn’t give me those — about what I am bound by law to be to you and all my Faithful Students of the past? Why I was rightly confused when you gave me that card?"
Anger bled from Sunset’s face, twisting it into something vaguely forlorn. She lowered her ears and nibbled at her forehoof, unable to meet Celestia’s eyes. Her own cyan eyes seemed damp in the candlelight.
“Yes, Princess,” mumbled the little unicorn.
“Good,” Celestia continued with a gentle breath of relief. “Then you remember I had to tell you to swallow your heart, too. I think that’s a lesson that we’re going to need you to be revisiting more often. Taking out your angst over adolescence on me is not what I deserve, and I can see plainly that your emotions have started to lead you somewhere dark and lonely. Pride is a very dangerous thing, and I’ve never seen anything worse grip any creature’s heart. Please listen to me when I say that I don’t want it to grip yours too.”
Princess Celestia shot her student a measured, worried look, pleading for Sunset to look at her and see how worried her teacher was. She didn’t even bother to scold Sunset for biting at her forehoof, like she normally would.
With an uncharacteristic shyness, Sunset brushed a few locks of her mane away and raised her gaze. Her stare fell somewhere around Celestia’s neck.
Celestia’s thoughts were fretful — would Sunset see the light of benevolence that she was trying to shine for her? Would she hear even the most teenage, attitude-drenched half-apology she was owed?
“I wish you would let me feel loved,” Sunset said instead.
“I… I beg your pardon?” Celestia couldn’t will her mouth to close after the little gasp of those three words came out.
“Don’t look so surprised!” Sunset snapped, waving her forehooves in sudden, angry flaps. “Everypony else my age has friends and fun! All I have is you and you’re a freaking nag!”
Two, large white wings flared with a mix of shock and wound-tight anger on pure reflex. Three seconds ticked on by before Princess Celestia realized that they were her own. “Never in all my years d-did I think one of my own Faithful Students could d-dare say anything so hurtful…”
“YOU DON’T EVEN CRY WHEN I YELL AT YOU!” Sunset wailed, standing up and leaping away from her chair. Her jacket flared with the angry little jump. “NOPONY EVEN BELIEVES YOU CAN!”
“Monster!” Sunset screeched; her voice was hoarse with oncoming tears. “No matter all the things you say, even I can cry! You can’t even really yell at me! Why can’t you do it, huh?! Why can’t you just admit that you hate me? That you wanna see me gone?”
“Oh Sunset,” Celestia murmured, completely aghast in tone and expression, “why would you ever say such a thing? I would never wish harm to come to you or anypony that I care about.”
“You don’t care about me at all!” Sunset jumped up and let her forehooves fall upon Celestia’s prized marble floor with a hard stamp, causing the latter to flinch. “Ever since I was nine you’ve… you’ve made me feel like a gods-damned tissue!”
“Please,” Celestia pleaded, folding her wings neatly, taking care to reach no hoof outward. Sunset’s tantrums had resulted in more than just surges of emotions in the past — and Celestia had gotten more than just burns to her emotional state. “Please don’t do this to me again. What is it that you want from me? Surely there is something I could give you? Do you want more extra credit assignments — heavens know you love those. What about another arcade pass? More concert tickets? How about extra new clothes the next time the guards supervise one of your shopping trips? You can have any gift—”
“Just throw me away already!” screamed Sunset with all the rage her tiny body could muster. Hot, angry tears were spilling down her face at last and her makeup was falling with it, in villainous, smudged waterfalls of black that streaked down her face.
“I will do no such thing to anypony, most certainly not a filly under my care—”
“But you don’t care about me at all!” Sunset shrilled again, stomping one hoof as loud as she could. “You hate me and you said it yourself: I could graduate when I’m thirty and I don’t care about what your stupid Faithful Student contract with grandmother said! I won’t ever let you keep me that long! I don’t care if you’re a goddess, I hate you!”
Genuine pain wove through Celestia’s expression, and it took too much of her might to swallow it down, to shove her heart back down where it belonged. “I-I’ve never hated you, little one. That’s wrong—”
“OF COURSE!” came Sunset’s next ear-piercing shout, one that continued even after Celestia cast a noise-suppressing spell. “I’m still the one that’s always wrong! It’s never you! It should be you forever and ever! You make me feel like a crazy pony and one day I hope I never ever see you again!”
“Sunset, you don’t mean that—”
“YES I DO!”
Swallowing, Celestia’s next words came out soft and smooth compared to Sunset’s broken screams. “You can’t mean that—”
“I do, I do, I do!” wailed Sunset, a sob between each reiteration. At last, cyan light was starting to swirl messily upon her horn, whether the little filly realized it or not. “I wish that you were wrong like everypony else! I wish you weren’t mean and cold and perfect! You kn-kn-now what, Princess?”
“What?” Celestia whispered, fearful, and chilly. “What more hurtful things could you have to say to me?”
“When I first hugged y-you, I thought you were cold then t-too!” Sunset sniffled harshly, wiping at her messy muzzle with her sleeve. “And you didn’t even cry with me when we got the letter that grandmother had to move into an old pony home!”
“I gave you all the condolences I could—”
“PONIES GO TO DIE IN THOSE HOMES!” came Sunset’s wailing interruption, and Celestia’s posture stiffened when a plate hanging on the wall started to shake. All of Sunset’s stomping was bound to attract some attention sooner or later, even if nopony heard anything. This was still a general servant’s room. "You don't get to die, so you wouldn't know what it f-feels like!"
“Sunny, if you want to visit your grandmother again, we can have that arranged. Why don’t we go to another room?” Celestia kept her words phrased as a question, but Sunset Shimmer should know by now that there was no question, and certainly no option to refuse, those words.
“I wish grandmother was a goddess and you weren’t!” blurted Sunset furiously. "You should be a pony like the rest of us instead of an everlasting Alicorn! My grandmother shoulda been the born-special one 'cause she deserved it and you don't! See, how do you like being told that now? Huh? You don't like it when somepony tells you that you shouldn't deserve things! Why do you do it to me?"
“No,” Princess Celestia whispered forcefully, inhaling sharply, “you don’t mean that at all. Nopony would. Before you say anything else you regret, we need to go to another room. Now.”
“Nu-uh,” Sunset insisted stubbornly, bringing her forehooves down in another stomp. “I mean it; I mean it so much, Your Highness. I mean this more than lessons and birthdays and—”
“You don’t know the meaning of the manipulative heresy you wish upon me, not fully.”
“O-one day,” Sunset hissed, seething as her horn brightened with an uncontrolled bud of magic, “I hope you know what it feels like to lose somepony. To have somepony you love never ever be there again. ‘Cause I can look in your dumb blank eyes and see that you have no idea what I’m talking about! You know nothing about what I feel like, or what it’s like to lose others and feel alone or have everypony h-hate you so, s-so, so m-much like you make everypony hate me — BECAUSE YOU HAVE NEVER HAD TO LOSE ANYPONY BEFORE! I HOPE YOU LOSE EVERYPONY!”
“Oh heavens, no!” gasped Princess Celestia. “Stop it! Stop it at once, Sunset Helia Shimmer! You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about!”
“I HOPE EVERYPONY AND FRIEND YOU EVER HAD LEAVES YOU AND HATES YOU AND TELLS YOU THAT YOU’RE MEAN AND CRAZY TOO!”
“You want to see me yell?” Celestia said, voice stony and level. “Well, I’ll give you no such pleasure. But all you need to know is that after tonight, I don’t think you’re going to need a return ticket the next time you go on an airship ride to Tall Tale, and you certainly won’t be needing any of my guards to accompany you.”
Pausing, Sunset gave Celestia a look that was just so stuck between blank and absolutely incredulous. It was frozen in the way one would expect as if — heavens forbid and banish the thought — somepony had struck Sunset Shimmer of Tall Tale.
“Maybe if you’d ever lost somepony, you’d know how to love them!” was Sunset Shimmer’s last caterwaul before she scrubbed a foreleg at her tear-stained face again and ripped the door open with a burst of cyan sparks.
All that left was Princess Celestia to stand and smell the smokey residue of Sunset Shimmer’s magic, her barrel tight with heaving breaths she would show nopony and all the stories she would never tell.
...
Twilight Sparkle’s hoof rapping at Princess Celestia’s door grew louder. The sound was a splinter in her latest migraine as she tore her eyes from the cramped scroll she had to preside over. The inky lines blurred as she shifted focus, the dull ache before her horn replacing the concern of shipping treaties between Equestria and Colthuacan. She trotted to the door, twisting its sleek golden handle with a press of her forehoof. Standing in the doorway, small and scrappy in the dim colors was the quivering shape of Twilight Sparkle.
The filly was sniveling and shivering in the hallways, no doubt because it was long past sundown. Celestia was incredulous at the sight. Her maids had told her that the filly’s room had been checked and that she was in bed with the lights out hours ago. For Twilight Sparkle to be up past her bedtime was to break the routine she kept more religiously than Celestia’s thaumaturges aided in Summer Sun Celebrations across Equestria.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Celestia said, voice worried, “why aren’t you in bed?”
Ducking her eyes, Twilight held her head in the closest imitation of a solemn bow she could manage. She mumble-squeaked something in the stumbling tone expected of such a shy filly — one that the princess was struggling to learn to decipher. Her tail swished clumsily, covering her blessed cutie mark for a moment. That cutie mark was what Celestia needed to see every day, since it was the seal of perfection on a filly that was only otherwise remarkable in her capacity for her tabula rasa personality and devotion to all that a young mind would perceive as heroic.
“What was that, my Faithful Student?”
“Ican’tsleep!” Twilight stammered out, the words coming in a dutifully delivered, if jumbled burst.
Truly, that sense of duty was ever-remarkable; even Princess Celestia’s adult students of many decades took so much time to cultivate such pleasantly responsive temperaments.
“Why is that, Twilight? Did your night-light go out again?” Princess Celestia meant the question earnestly, but part of her knew that there was something amusing about the situation. If somepony had told her even three years ago that the next Faithful Student she picked would still need a night-light, she would have had quite the chortle.
“Y-yes,” Twilight said, shuddering so that her whole little body shook like she’d been left out in the cold. “It’s s-so scary, Princess!”
Celestia blinked. “I beg your pardon, Twilight. Is there something in your room?”
She almost wanted to ask if she should find some night shift member of the royal guard to go humor Twilight’s probably foalish worries. Not even three weeks into her time at the castle, and Twilight Sparkle had made color-coded crayon maps detailing the distant walk to Celestia’s many chambers throughout the day and sloppily scribbled faux biology papers on the things she felt lurked under her bed. The princess was already considering paying two particular guards extra for how much she’d sent them to accompany Twilight on such diversions.
It was truly so much more than Celestia was ever used to, not that she could say that. Managing such a young special needs filly and having to raise her famulus drake on the side until they could be trusted together had Celestia out of her depth. Usually, the few Faithful Students who had done the dragon egg entry test were pulled from her Gifted Unicorn school when they were not just of an age to have minimal supervision in famulus training, but had become used to it. Twilight Sparkle was no such case, and she still sucked on her forehoof according to the maid that was sent to rouse her for lessons each morning and help draw her baths.
“Kinda,” Twilight squeaked, doing a fidgety little tippy-hoof dance. “Please, Y-your Highness! You need to come quick!”
Princess Celestia nodded, keeping her expression unreadable. If Twilight Sparkle was this worried, it was likely more than her misplacing a quill or struggling to sort the subgenres of her textbooks by whatever the latest system was. Last time, it had been based on which ones had the most mentions of the Pre-Classical Era in their indexes. Princess Celestia had done her best to live the ‘fake it until you make it’ mantra while the filly had explained her struggles with the system.
“Come along, Twilight.” Princess Celestia lit her horn with a soft bud of gold and began the slow stroll down the hallway. “I’ll come with you, and we’ll find just what it is that scared you so.”
Perhaps a mouse had managed to get past the staff, or Philomena had played an unwelcome prank. She really had to sit that bird down and explain that she spent ‘too much’ time with Twilight not because she loved Twilight more, but because ‘Mena had to understand that Twilight was marked to be her Spark, her one and only shot. If Twilight Sparkle were not exactly as she was needed when the time came, the world would pay for… somepony’s mistakes. The jealousy of birds aside, one thing Philomena could understand was that Twilight Sparkle was a filly who needed her hoof held for more than just her age, and that she had so many of the signs that marked Celestia’s neurodivergent Faithful Students in the past, with a diagnosis to solidify things.
Eventually, Celestia tired of trying to coax poor, nervous Twilight back along the long path she came. Shadowy flights of stairs, wide empty corridors, and looming doorways had become immensely sinister to the little filly during the night. Without her purpose of seeking her goddess, it fell to the princess to will her Faithful Student along. With Twilight Sparkle placed high upon her back, she enveloped them both in the yellow glow of a teleportation spell.
…
The doors to Twilight Sparkle’s bedroom chamber had been left wide open. This, of course, could pose its own frustrations. Already, Princess Celestia felt the most distant echo of it creeping in the back of her thoughts. What if Twilight Sparkle had seen some pest, like a mouse or spider? Both of those things were best done away with, knowing what harm they could bring to helpless little fillies like Twilight.
Keeping her expression relaxed, Princess Celestia levitated Twilight down to the ground and placed her upon the floor delicately. “Now little one, why don’t you show me what has upset you so much, hm? When ponies tell you not to let the bedbugs bite, you know that this isn’t what they meant, right?”
“There are bedbugs?” Twilight yelped, jumping up so that her hooves touched the ground again in a fearful clatter. “Ohnonono, I didn’t know there were bed bugs t-too!”
Her student’s voice cracked so highly upon the last stammer that Princess Celestia was glad for Twilight’s social obliviousness.
Did her parents really never tell her that before? “Ah, it’s just a figure of speech, my Faithful Student.”
The filly’s frantic motions stopped immediately. She held in her breath, looking up at Celestia with puffed-up cheeks and wide, horribly confused eyes. “Figure of speech?”
“There are no bed bugs.”
“Then who is biting, Princess?” One purple ear twitched.
“Nothing and nopony will bite you, Twilight. I’m here to protect you, remember? Like your brother would.”
Twilight still stared up at Celestia blankly.
“It’s a joke, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said at last. In dealing with Twilight Sparkle, the phrase had become one of the more common ones in her arsenal.
“Ooooh?” Twilight cocked her head to the side. “Ha-hah?” she offered, unable to read her mentor’s face.
“Yes,” the princess said, “ha-hah. Bed bugs are funny. Perhaps tomorrow we can find a book on one if you do well in your lessons. Now, let’s go find what scared you so much. Do you think it’s still going to be in here?”
Celestia watched Twilight carefully. The filly was hanging on her every word more than usual, ears pricked forward and absorbed in the slightest movement of her teacher’s. Relief was starting to find its way into untying the knot that had been building up in Celestia’s chest.
Twilight’s stare was back to its usual shiny and button-blank watchfulness with so little fear left as she slipped into a passive listening state.
It was exactly what Celestia was wishing for, since if Twilight had started to insist that something was more of a ‘somepony’ then there would be much alarm to be raised. The castle had various areas that were sanctuaries protected with divine magic, most notably the rooms containing treasures, artifacts, and historical texts. The bedrooms of her and Twilight were the most warded rooms in the castle. Aside from them being impregnable, if an unwanted pony had managed to get in the castle, Celestia would do anything in her power to ensure they were eliminated. Her Faithful Students had not seen their lives threatened in centuries, and the princess was not about to see that record broken.
“Y-yes, of c-course! P-Please, come here, P-Princess Celestia!”
The princess allowed herself to passively heed the words of Twilight Sparkle, stepping into the bedroom after the filly. She flicked on the large overhead lamp, and heard the magic come to life before the room was bathed in the white glow of the glass-housed werelight. So little looked out of place. All the blankets were folded. Every scientific poster hung where it had to. Only one stray juice box stood out, for it hadn’t been thrown away. Otherwise, all Twilight’s textbooks were stacked and every bookshelf had its items replaced, save for the beginnings of a bookfort in one corner.
The room was oddly sterile for a filly in many ways, but that was what was to be expected of Twilight Sparkle. Everything about the minimal decorations that Twilight enjoyed was the exact opposite of when the room had belonged to Sunset Shimmer, who craved messy and unfortunate expressiveness. Thankfully, the arrival of such a sweet little child such as Twilight Sparkle had finally given the princess a reason to unlock the old tomb of a bedroom, gut it of any sign of the previous residency, order a remodel, and ensure a new resident was at home.
Giving one last sweep of her gaze around the room, Celestia at last found something out of order. Right next to Twilight’s wide toy chest — one of the few signs that she was a child — was the door to the small parlor and study room next door. That was ajar, when Princess Celestia knew that it was supposed to be closed each night, lest Twilight creep in and start flying through her bonus point assignments when she was meant to be sleeping.
From the doorway to that smaller area, Princess Celestia heard the cool sound of the night’s wind. She looked to Twilight, who was clutching the long leg of her princess and hiding from the sound.
“Did you leave the window open?”
Twilight nodded, whimpering.
Celestia tutted, absentmindedly patting the filly on the head. Of course, leaving the window open in the one room that had it would frighten her. The night was filled with all kinds of scary sounds, and being so high off the ground would mean Twilight was subjected to all kinds of horrid high-speed winds. She probably heard a strong gust of wind that woke her up.
“Come now, let’s go close it together. I could use your magic to help me.”
She really didn’t, not when Twilight Sparkle’s magic was a bonfire compared to the crumb of other unicorns her age — because that bonfire was not something that could rival the galaxy of power Celestia had. She just didn’t want Twilight to feel excluded.
“O-okay, t-thank you, Princess Celestia.”
With that said, Princess Celestia let the little filly scuttle after her, and they entered the parlor together. Twilight Sparkle’s desk area had indeed been disturbed somewhat — a mug of quills had their contents knocked over by the wind. Two long silk curtains trimmed with golden lace designs fluttered in the chilly wind that was pouring in, dancing an eerie, ghostly duet.
Had Celestia’s long, rear legs been her neck, then Twilight Sparkle would have been strangling her. Such was the might she was using to squeeze at her teacher’s form. Turning around, Celestia stared at the little purple filly so determined to remain and cower in her shadow.
“Now that we’re here, I would like you to show me what it is that had you running to my office at such an intolerable hour. It’s almost nine-thirty, you know. That means little fillies like you should be in bed.
A faint sniffling sound reached Princess Celestia’s ears. Then, she felt it — a faint, sudden noise so high in pitch followed by a damp sensation in her tail. Cold needles of dread prickled down her pack — poor Twilight Sparkle had sneezed fearfully right into her tail.
Too many lifetimes of politicians made it so that Celestia could know all the exact moments to swallow her heart. This was one of them, and she managed to force the feeling of frustrated horror down her throat all too gracefully for her own good. Let snot drip down her tail, when all this was said and done, she would bleach her coat whiter than it already was. If that was what it would take to get it clean again, that is exactly what she would do.
Heavens above, thank goodness she had never had any foals.
Only a second later, and Twilight was trotting right over to the window. It clearly wasn’t because she was no longer afraid — one could clearly observe a tremble in her gait — but for some other reason.
Celestia had to blink before she realized that Twilight had heeded her teacher’s words automatically not because of bravery, but because Celestia hadn’t asked.
“There!” squeaked the little filly. She pointed one stubby foreleg outside, where dark clouds were curling around the shadows of neighboring spires. “Look out there, Princess!”
And once the princess had trotted close enough to the window, she did. She stuck her head right out the window so that most of her mane spilled out with her. The hardwood of Twilight Sparkle’s desk pressed into her skin, ending right below her knees.
“My goodness, little one. Just what is it that I’m supposed to be looking for? Can you really not sleep because of some clouds? You went in here just to gawk at the clouds… because your night-light wasn’t working?”
“Nonono, Your Highness! You hafta look up!”
“Twilight, we’ll go back into your bedroom and fix your night-light right away. That I can do. But you really mustn’t overreact so much when the only thing out here is the moon—”
“Y-yes!” Twilight yelped. “The moon! The moon!”
Pulling her head back inside, Princess Celestia trained her gaze blankly upon her pupil. “Twilight Sparkle, it is normal for the moon to be that close. You’re up in these towers with me now. It’s going to look closer, I’ve raised it enough to know where to put it. Fillies your age are normally afraid of how close it looks…”
Twilight made a small, shameful nicker, kicking her hooves at the floor sullenly. She rubbed at her snotty muzzle with one of her forehooves.
“...and most fillies your age are afraid of the dark too.”
“The night is just so scary,” Twilight whispered, “and that s-shape it has is just s-so m-mean and ugly.”
“I know it is, Twilight. But there’s no getting rid of it.” Celestia sighed. “It’s been there forever, even when I was much younger.”
“Really?” Twilight asked, awestruck, moving toward her mentor again.
The princess nodded, letting Twilight wrap her unfortunately grubby forehooves around one of her rear legs again.
“Yes,” Celestia lied. “There is no use fussing about craters in the moon.”
Twilight blinked reverently up at Celestia, her eyes brimming with more adoration than Celestia had seen from a foal in a long, long time. “I heard one of the maid’s daughters say there is a big, mean nightmare that lives in the moon, and those ugly beasts like that are why we celebrate Nightmare Night.”
It had been far too many years for Celestia to feel hatred toward that wicked slur. She smiled more brightly and widely down upon Twilight Sparkle instead.
“Oh, my dear little Twilight Sparkle. The next time you hear something that silly, you may tell that filly she is full of pish-posh. There is not a single soul that lives in the moon, and anything you hear is simply made-up tall tales to keep fillies like you in bed at night. Do you really think it would be logical for there to be any magical beasties there? Where no little critters can breathe?”
Twilight pressed her cheek into Celestia’s leg, consider this. “Nu-uh! Nothing can teleport that far! There’s no science to it! No spell can do anything to the moon…” She tilted up to look at Celestia again, “...nothing except the gods,” Twilight finished breathlessly.
“Exactly!” The princess affirmed, braying a giddy laugh afterward. “And I assure you, Twilight Sparkle, that I have never lost anything upon the moon. Now, with that hogwash all done with, why don’t we get you cleaned up and back in bed. I think that somepony had a night-light that needed fixing, and that somepony was you!”
She risked patting the filly on the head one more time. Twilight was in dire need of a washcloth, and often got overstimulated if booped at the wrong time.
’Sensory issues’ her parents had explained.
“Twilight, do you know what a telescope is?”
“Nu-uh,” Twilight said, shaking her head so that her bangs whipped with the gesture, “are they pretty?”
“Well, they’re something sort of like a firefly lantern. My little ponies use them to fight the darkness. Lots of scientists use them. I think that you would make quite the little astronomer if you could get over that fear.”
“Wow, Princess! That sounds amazing!”
“Yes, I’m sure we could get an astronomy tutor to help set one up. I’m afraid I only could teach you the basics. Somepony else will have to help you pick one out. I’m rather surprised that none of your books don’t have any in them.”
“Oh no, I guess I wasn’t paying attention!” squeaked Twilight fretfully, hopping towards the door.
“There’s no need to fret, little one. You won’t have any tests on the stars.”
“Aww,” Twilight pouted, giving one last exaggerated hop out of the studying parlor. It was exactly in tune with the sound of Celestia slamming the windows tightly shut once more.
They left that room without a care, and Celestia didn’t think to look back when she closed the door behind her. In that time, Princess Celestia had learned a valuable lesson of her own: no matter the situation, regardless of the stakes, and no matter her own feelings… Twilight Sparkle did exactly as she was told.
Perhaps there was nothing that would ensure her future more than that — the obedience necessary for faithfulness.
In your time as my Faithful Student, you have accomplished many things that have made me so very happy for you. I will even indulge in vice and say that I am so, so proud of you. That is not a word I dare use often, and in your time under my tutelage, you certainly have come to know why, and just what I think of pride. Your skill in magic is one that has so much potential just like the others did
I know that you will continue to study magical practice and theory. Your grades shall certainly continue to rise, and I see in my mind's eye that you are heading toward a brilliant future — one where I wish to see you continue to excel and never stop learning about the things that matter. If When you come back from Ponyville, we will have the biggest celebration in Canterlot. It will be bigger and better than your sixteenth birthday bash, and when all is done I will have a proper pop quiz, just for you. Oh, Twilight Sparkle, don't think that for a moment I know that you (and Spike) would adore a pop quiz once all this Summer Sun Celebration madness is over and the prophecy has been fulfilled you may return to your studies here in Canterlot.
Do you not think I have seen what you have become? You've grown into a lovely young mare under my tutelage and I know that
Please don't fail me in Ponyville and heed my advice to
After all that you have done so far, I'm sure you'll succeed at whatever you see in your mind that must be followed. I picked a scholar because no uneducated pony could do what I need to be done have assigned for you on this most special occasion. Even if that task is making friends in Ponyville, I need you to see that you will never grow so much that I will shun you from your place under my wing, and Canterlot is always the home you will need. My Faithful Student, you need to hear that you can always come home again I need you to have no chance to fail because if you can't come home
Of all your amazing, most special traits, I can see plainly that it is your humility and doggedness that will aid you in this quest of great good — the greatest good, as I am sure you will come to realize. Did you think that your knack for the organization has no translation in this most splendid and harmonious hegemony I rule? All that you have become will ensure that you and Spike find yourselves in good company, and do take care to ensure that he gets to bed on time. Friends aren't as out of reach as you think, and they will help guide you on the journey that I have taken care to put you on.
If you aren't the one meant to wield
There is no doubt in my mind that you — but not you alone — will be able to accomplish more than you have given yourself credit for on this mission of the utmost importance little errand in Ponyville! The history books that you love to read may soon have their pages marked by a very familiar face — one surrounded by her brand-new friends and smiling widely. When that time comes, be sure to give your widest smile, my Faithful Student. It will make up for the art of the perfect wave I have not taught you yet.
Ever since you were a little filly, I had begun preparing you for this task, for I had no choice in the path I knew you were to be set on. I knew that there were some things I could not teach you as I could teach you other, more academic subjects. There was no map that would lead you to friendship, though your character is the finest clay that could be molded until it was perfect to pop into the kiln of camaraderie I knew that you would have to step into one day. Such is fate, my most precious of Students.
That — friendship — was what I wanted you to have the most otherwise the other five would not work
You see, this oddity was what would determine whether or not you passed a test that has been in the making for one thousand years. While you have grown out of the stage where you spoke to none but Smarty Pants, your brother, and Cadance, I have been able to see your shortcomings. These are the ones rooted in a fundamental awkwardness that I know still exists within you, though it goes beyond you being differently-abled. I certainly noticed when you failed to pick up on any cues that marked the point where your brother and my niece — perhaps even your future sister — began the next stages of their lives, where little fillies could not always be tagging along. You have never seen the way Raven looks at me, and I must confess oh, how I loathe that word that as a mare who has never favored mares, I have missed her glances too. Oh, my little Twilight, you can only see the good in the world and I am drawn to your moth-like ability to only see the light of the world and in myself. Optimism exceeds honesty, and of that trait, you are ripe, pure, and ready.
Though it was years ago, I do know that you hardly enjoyed any of my prompts for you to be enrolled in a few classes at my School for Gifted Unicorns. For that awkwardness, I must apologize, but if you knew what I knew would be coming if you were to look closer at the sky it was necessary to get you to begin to learn how to talk to ponies your age. Spike and I were not proper companions for a growing filly. I'm very aware that you did not like being assigned Moondancer, Lyra, Minuette, and Lemon Hearts of your assigned friend group. But when all of this is said and done, and you have returned to Canterlot, I do think that you'll be able to understand what I have done and why...
Twilight Sparkle, I am a very guilty mare because I could not care for somepony who needed my help the most and they suffered because of my actions. This was somepony I should have always been there for, and I have never stopped missing them in their absence, though you have no inkling of who this may be — and for good reason; this is my greatest burden and thus my highest of secrets. You have been spared of hearing some of the countless and secretive speculations of where I am from and if I am the sun itself, even if these whispers primarily lurk outside of Equestria's borders and in the thaumaturgy departments of foreign universities. I will always be glad that I have closed your ears to the hushed whispers of why I have only the sun upon my flank if I manage—
Have you ever thought of what it would be like to be separated from Shining Armor? Truly separated, unable to help or—
Time is like a knife, Twilight Sparkle, even if you hold it at a distance it will eventually cut you when you aren't careful...
I miss her terribly and I may have numbed myself to some of this feeling — and the initial impact of her loss may be gone...
Sometimes I cannot tell if the fire of regret or the numbness of what my grief has become is worse.
There was never meant to be one Alicorn goddess ruling Equestria, and I have aimed to use everything in my power to change that and to make this land one that truly represents order and harmony. You and all my other little ponies know the weight of importance I place upon good intentions and bending the world into a kind one. If you ever come to know the other gods even a fraction, as well as you have come to know me, I'm afraid you'll see that they insist on many different ways of the world. What they call realism is pish-posh, and they are far too immersed in all mystic manners I am shocked the thaumaturges and sorcerers call them miracles and see their texts as more worthy than mine. Ah, Twilight, it is a sad day when our most benevolent destiny is forsaken for a twisted idea of harmony, but I am rambling now. You will not need to know the other gods until you are at your grave decades from now, thank Harmony.
What you are about to right is rooted in a wrong I had done, and all because of something ugly I had once been... and the ways in which I did things that only hurt the bond between myself and this other. I sawed it to pieces instead of severing it with a more merciful single strike. It was I who refused us the sole fight to cleave our kinship in two... and I twisted the knife of time into the one I should have cherished most. I hurt a mare who couldn't bear to be a single star — that is if we are to draw any reference to the suns-as-stars theory. She was different like you and couldn't be what was expected of her I'm ashamed to say that even I wanted this once and pretend to be a star — as some distant sun — when she was meant to have her own sky... and because of everything that happened she tried to go through me to get it. That last line is all the bedtime remembers of the mare that history obliterated.
I hurt the only family I have, and she bit back with as much fury as she had and it got her—
It took her absence to make me realize that I loved my family. Worse than that, it took what was tantamount to her suicide until the fortune teller's words too many centuries too late for me to know that I should have always kept it that way when my own actions helped tear us apart. The only force that can save her is one that I no longer believe in after what they did to her can no longer control, and it is only through your actions that order and peace could really return to Equestria, and harmony shall be able to heal my heavy heart at last. I changed so much for her, you must realize that! Ponies thought differently than — and not the more acceptable kind of different that you are and she was, but an ugly and cruel different. No matter what, different is always slightly dangerous but
Equestria was not a place that would be recognizable to you, even your history books — all history texts — are but a pale imitation of past horrors. There is a good reason that Nightmare Moon is in no legitimate history book, and you have read the story of a nation whose only hardship was fleeing frozen winter-lands. History tells of an instantaneous racial harmony between my little ponies for a reason. Discord is recounted as a tame, half-myth that I defeated alone, and without any kin or a preceding war in all that you grew up with for equally necessary reasons; the aftermath of his anarchy shall not be spoken of as anything but quick-healing miracles because that is what history must believe. The land is truly filled with life, precisely because it is permitted no unkindness.
I changed, and I did so over and over again. I will always change.
I waited because—
You, Twilight Sparkle, are the only Faithful Student who showed any true potential as the key I would one day need. Your magic surge and tell-tale mark were all I needed, and all I hadn't seen in so long... oh, how your purple stars, that single image of the Spark has haunted me.
But the other Students? They are the ponies who only get portraits and prestige upon graduation, as I am sure some would so cruelly put it if we are to delve into inaccurate simplicity. They were scholars, each one was well-trained, the cream of the crop... but I never established the Faithful Students to be anything more than distractions until...
Oh, only my little ponies would believe me when I tell you I don't know how to say this. My dear little subjects and Faithful Students, you all understand me so well.
They were not heroes, Twilight, and that was what I needed — what destiny required. None of them would ever be able to succeed, to learn the true secrets of magic...
I needed a hero-to-be in the form of somepony like you, but not for my sake...
For Luna's sake.
She is the reason that I told you to have fun on your trip instead of good-bye. My kin is the ghost I can no longer see because she was not the first or the last. All she was was the greatest reminder in the line of Discord, Sunset Shimmer, and others that all those who I dare tell that I love them will leave me.
So I tell no one, not even you, that I love you ever so much, Twilight Sparkle. I love you because of how much I need you and because I cannot know how to feel any other way about you, for you are my proudest achievement.
Your Mentor,
Princess Celestia
...
The moon scarred with the image of an all-but-forgotten goddess loomed over the city of Canterlot and the last traces of a cool summer night's breeze swirled past the spires of Canterlot castle. Even though the moon was high in the sky, Princess Celestia shook in cold that wasn't there as she sat on her tower's balcony. A thin line of enchanted sunfire was dancing on the golden rail and casting dramatic shadows on her face. She sat not because she was tired, but because her legs wouldn't stop shaking each time she tried to stand. They shook like the uncertainty she put into every uncharacteristically clumsy word. So Princess Celestia sat and added the last few lines on her letter to Twilight Sparkle, who was now likely to be asleep in Ponyville's Golden Oak Library where she had arranged for her Faithful Student and her little brother to stay.
Even for Princess Celestia, it was difficult to resist the urge to look up at the sky where four of the odd stars had already begun drawing themselves to Luna, bit by bit, in order to finish the spell. Celestia bit her lip — stopping only when she tasted blood. By then, it had become harder to breathe the more she tried to hold all second thoughts at bay. Part of her was still screaming with some kind of fragile, mad excitement at the prospect of seeing Luna — or whatever might be left of her — that caused something vital-feeling inside of her to threaten to burst. She held back as much emotion as possible, but twin streams of tears still managed to squeeze their way out of her eyes, and however much it hurt, Princess Celestia tried to swallow the few hiccup-like sobs that had threatened to escape her until they only escaped her in dry, pained coughs.
She would see her sister again. Celestia would beg if she had to — if that's what would keep Luna from hurting anypony and buy Twilight Sparkle some more time.
Once the last flourishes of her signature were added, Princess Celestia rolled up the scroll and sealed it. She then placed it off to her side, gold aura flickering nervously and threatening to die and drop her letter. Somehow, she managed to set it down carefully, as if she were afraid the paper would make a noise that would startle somepony who wasn't there. Though it was part-confession (oh, that vile term) and part-letter, it was sloppier than anything Princess Celestia would ever really write. She had always put perfection first in dictating and composing her letters to Twilight Sparkle and all of her Faithful Students before her. Next to the princess was another sheet of parchment, the inkwell she had been using, and the only unbroken quills she had left. The rest lie around her, broken and snapped when she had applied too much pressure in her hurried writing.
It was all because of how her magic was fluctuating, of course, nothing more.
She didn't want it to be anything more.
There were still two letters she would need to write tonight. It was only when Princess Celestia managed to draw a single breath, one so shallow and hoarse, did she look up at the sky and the paths of the stars, now in motion more than ever...
She had so little time left to write now.
Celestia took one more breath. It was deeper, but sputtering, almost as if it were her last. For an undying being the concept of the last breath... it was absurd to think that she would have one. Yet, right now Celestia was very, very afraid that it would be her last breath... at least for a long time.
Princess Celestia's jaw clenched and unclenched. It was all nerves. She felt lightheaded. The summer air was freezing and the start of a sudden cold sweat had appeared on her forehead in this ungodly, unnatural chill. She felt as if she had been plunged into ice water!
Making as much use of whatever time she had left, Princess Celestia moved to her second, blank piece of paper—
— and then she stopped to eye the confession she had written to her Faithful Student. A heartbeat passed and she lifted the letter, dreading each second of silence she held onto it. Then, with a single motion, she cast it into the flames created by her light and watched it burn until she could see the ashes fall.
