Twilight Sparkle is the princess of Equestria. The paper crowd cheers for her. There is a glint inside a Place in the mountains to the north. All is well.
Six hundred years passed since Twilight Sparkle, princess of Equestria, rose to the throne. She is dutiful. She is wise. She is watchful. She is miserable. The land bears the fruits of her tireless reign. The people are happy and flock to her court to pay their respects to their leader.
In the north, the Crystal Empire lay forgotten by Her Majesty Twilight Sparkle. Beyond that, a mountain range lay ignored by most, its secrets whispered by some. Twilight Sparkle knows there is a Question hidden inside that must be asked, but she is no foolish pony, and her duty is to her people, to Equestria. She does not step into the mountains. She does not follow the gnawing at the back of her mind to investigate their secrets. She does not venture through wind-blasted canyons and frigid reaches to try and glimpse a truth that escapes her.
All hail Twilight Sparkle! All hail the Princess of Equestria!
Sirius courted Sagittarius that night. The stars around Twilight blazed with passion, and stellar flares washed over her, sending twinkles of energy coursing through her veins. She revelled in their glorious light, the gaseous glow that alighted the bleakness of space with pinpricks of gold. She danced amongst them like a comet bathed in their warmth.
Ponies thought space was cold, but it was warm to her. So much energy, so much vitality blossomed in nebulae, hidden from sight by the interstellar clouds that collected the very essence of the cosmos in order to give birth to stars of such brilliance, of such magnitude, that a common mind would not be able to accept them as real.
This was her life in the stars. Her soul bathed in cosmic rays, taking in the majesty of the universe, the serenity of empty space. She glided on currents left by the wake of asteroids, letting the shining arms of the cosmos cradle her like a mother embracing her child. All was peaceful. All was well.
It is five o'clock.
She was nothing and everything. She was awake yet asleep. She inhabited the liminal space between the grounded self and the utter obliteration of the psyche, her mind teetering on the edge of being fully dissolved in the peace of the Great Beyond. All was peaceful. All was well.
It is five o'clock.
Chains of iron wrapped around her body, ripping her from the quiet of space.
“Princess Twilight, it is five o'clock.”
The voice of Noble Duty was like a needle wrapped in cotton in Twilight's ear, a soft, honeyed hush that nonetheless made her feel like she was being brutally stabbed through the ears. The mare stood by her side, her words mere whispers, yet after the silence of her nightly voyage, they felt as if she was shouting at the top of her voice.
“Princess Twilight,” she repeated, not raising her voice. “It is five o'clock.”
Twilight Sparkle's eyes opened to her room. A great window opened before her, and the land of Equestria spread under a black sky. Pinpricks of lights flickering in windows and streets reflected the starry canopy above. Ponies were waking up, the land stirring to life as it eagerly awaited light to bloom over the mountains. She could have sworn there was something in those mountains for a second. A strange glint that caught her eye, but vanished before she could really notice . She squinted, but saw nothing.
It was five o'clock. Time to raise the sun.
She turned, her body like a old, rusty machine in need of oil. Her room would have been large. A bed took up most of the remaining space, though months worth of books and scrolls piled up on the sheets. A desk pushed against the wall. Wardrobes and cabinets and dressers. Furniture eating away the space in the room, scrolls and books spilling over them and covering more space. It was her room. The scrolls and books parted before her as she stepped to the door. Noble Duty did not follow. She hardly ever left Twilight's room. She couldn't blame her.
There was a fly in the corridor. The buzzing annoyed her.
Pancakes had been laid out on the kitchen table. The smell brought water to her mouth. She wasn't hungry. And it wasn't really a kitchen table, since this was the royal dining room. But she'd always eaten in the kitchen, so it was the kitchen table. It made sense to her. Ponies thought she was strange. At least she thought they did, though they would never admit to it. At the end of the room, a gilded door led to the throne room.
She stared at it. It didn't stare back. Of course it didn't. It was a door. Strange thoughts this morning. Being abruptly pulled away from her cosmic rest often did that to her. She pulled her gaze away, to the balcony stretching over the royal gardens like the prow of a ship over the waves. A carpet rolled over the smooth stone to a dais flanked with a twin sculpture of the sun and the moon. She could still see someone spreading her wings as she basked in the warmth of the sun rising over the horizon every morning. Who? Her memories were fuzzy. Perhaps herself. It was her duty to raise the sun every morning after all.
Twilight stepped up the dais. Her horn glimmered as magic coalesced into it and reached through space to gently pull at the sun. Light spread over the horizon as the glorious sun rose over the hills, and she squinted as the blaze hurt her eyes. Before long, it slowed to a stop at a proper place for the hour of the morning. It was five o'clock. Time for the sun to rise. And the sun had risen. All was well.
The kitchen smelled of breakfast. A drizzle of syrup over golden-brown pancakes. Coffee. She drank her entire cup in one go. More coffee. She nibbled at her pancakes. The coffee felt warm in her stomach, and the pancakes felt heavy. The royal physician had scolded her when she'd found out just how little she usually ate, so she forced herself to swallow her breakfast and clean her plate. Noble Duty would be happy to see she was taking care of herself. Trying to take care of herself.
“The orders for the day, Princess?” Noble Duty stood at her side. Twilight hadn't sent for her. Not that she needed to. Noble Duty always knew how to find her, which was strange since she couldn't see, as she'd become blind in a foalhood accident. Pale eyes stared straight ahead, yet Twilight felt the piercing gaze of her assistant on herself. But when she looked up at her, the eyes stared at the wall, unseeing as ever.
“Yes.”
Noble Duty bowed and took her leave with a tight scroll stuffed in her saddlebag. Twilight didn't remember giving it to her. But ink stained her hoof, and a quill was out. Routine. After centuries, she already knew what orders to give for a day without even needing to think about it, her brain barely even needing to stay active longer than it took to scribble the words on the page. Was it muscle memory, or did she simply think too fast to realize it? She wiped her hoof on the white-and-gold tablecloth and drank more coffee.
Empty. The last drops of the coffee pots had already vanished inside her. She felt slightly nauseous. Caffeine hit her brain, but instead of making her alert and energetic, she only felt sick.
It was five o'clock and a half. Time for her to drag herself to the bathroom and calm her nerves. She stared at the mirror. Someone had brought it down and replaced it with a metal plate. She could vaguely see a lavender-coloured blur inside it. She cocked her head. The blur imitated her. Not a very useful mirror then, if you couldn't see yourself in it. But it would do. She didn't have time to contemplate herself in it anyway, court would start very soon, and she needed to be there.
She brushed her teeth.
She drank water. Too much to drink. She held her hoof to her mouth for a moment while a wave of nausea washed over her. She really needed to stop drinking so much coffee. The thought brought her cravings for coffee to the surface once again, and that only made her feel that much sicker. The room swam. She shook her head and splashed her face with water.
“It is soon time, Princess Twilight.” Noble Duty stood next to her, like a mother coaxing her children to do their chores.
It was six o'clock. It was time to hold court. The gilded door to the throne room stood before her. She blinked and cracked her neck. Muscles too tense for too long because of stress. Possible muscular and skeletal damage. Her body would repair it like it repaired every wound quickly, but she'd rather not have to deal with the stiffness. She cracked her neck again. She felt that one, like a drop of heat spreading through her neck. She didn't like it. It made her feel like she was hemorrhaging from the inside.
It was six o'clock. It was time for the show to start. She opened the door and stepped out of her quarters and out of her skin. Twilight Sparkle was dead. Long live Princess Twilight.
Princess Twilight stepped into the throne room to thundering applause of paper hooves. Eyes glittering with respect, greed, need, the fragile pony-shaped constructs were everywhere, like the audience of a particularly popular play. A long line of them stretched all the way to the foot of the dais on which the Equestrian throne stood, a pillar of marble inlaid with gold and cushioned with the finest silk that could be bought. Twilight stood in front of the throne and raised a hoof, silencing the paper masses before her.
They looked at her expectantly. Her right eye twitched. Too much caffeine. The floor looked mighty comfortable to lay down on at the moment. But she had to do this, like she did every day for the last hundreds of years. Equestria was hers to watch over. She owed a sacred duty to lead her people, and she would lead them and guide them and dance for them until she could dance no more.
The creaking of spotlights swivelling. The excited murmur of the crowd rustling against each other. The curtains parting. All was in place.
She put her hoof down, and the show started.
Princess Twilight walked between anthills towering over the surrounding landscape. Who had let them get this large? She considered them, considered the palace towering even over them. She guessed she did. She lightly touched one, and the columns and ants on it shifted, directed by her hoof.
She went past them. The mountains beckoned. They loomed in the distance, grey peaks in the north.
Noble Duty stayed by her side as she walked through the high grass. Well, relatively high. The grass barely reached her knees. She could still remember it reaching above her when she had been only a filly. How time flew. The grass rippled in the breeze. Today was a good day.
“My liege?” Noble Duty asked below her.
“Six hundred millions four hundred thirty nine thousands three hundreds and sixty four blades of grass,” Princess Twilight answered. Noble Duty nodded and scribbled something in her notebook. That the mare even had a notebook surprised her. How did she even write in it?
The gardens of Canterlot were another story entirely. Fussy plants, difficult flowers that needed careful tending. She did her rounds, the gardeners swarming around her to await instructions. Dance, step lightly around the flowers. They were so, so fragile. Princess Twilight took great care not to step on any of them. This one would bloom in a week, this one in two. Winter was quickly approaching. So much effort, so much waste tending to those flowers, when they would go back to sleep so soon. She'd always admired them as a filly but now…
The sky darkened briefly. She blinked. Fluffy white clouds hung overhead. Today was a good day. Grey mountains in the distance. Stone. Unmoving.
Stone. Statues had multiplied recently. She didn't know why, but she liked them. Elegant curves flowed down the carved representations of whatever was being represented, eyes following down uncertain waves and mathematical patterns going up and down and up and down again. Sometimes, one seemed to move, almost seeming alive, but it invariably was nothing but a trick of the light. Like the past, stone didn't move. Stone didn't change. Stone simply was, and remained, unbothered by seasons passing or weather changing. It was good. Looking out at the statues, she always knew what to expect. Flowers were fickle, unsure, unpredictable. Flowers could die at any time. Stone… stone simply was. With a minimum of tending, the carved stones of Equestria's past would shine like stars in the sky.
The paper crowd cheered and applauded her deft moves around the flowers, and the flowers bowed in reverence. The garden sequence was over. The mountains beckoned.
Princess Twilight stood in a clearing in the fields. The tall grass seemed to wave at her all around. It was only in that small clearing that she felt like a filly again, with the grass covering the horizon, not letting her see anywhere past the little circle in which she rested briefly. Even then, her crown poked above the grass and caught the sun, glimmering, blinding her. She squinted. She wasn't wearing her crown. What had blinded her then? She couldn't quite tell. She could only see past the grass, the snow-topped peaks ahead. North. So far. So close. The mountains beckoned.
“And three more, and two less.” Noble Duty scribbled. “And four more, and five less. And seven more, and zero less. And eight more, and six less. And two more, and…”
Her words phased out of Princess Twilight's attention. The crowd held its breath.
The show continued.
Something glimmered in the mountains to the north. Twilight lazily looked at the glint against the stone.
The show continued.
She rose from the grass, cracked her neck.
Somepony spoke. Somepony shouted. Some laughed. Some cried. The paper ponies fluttered in a whirlwind, each trying to catch her attention, each needing to be nudged and directed back to their proper place, back to their spot. Such silly things those paper ponies. Tea was served, and luncheon with gilded pages was had. Princess Twilight nodded at an advisor. She approved a minister's plan. The kingdom moved and lurched with only her signature on paper. Such a strange thing paper was. So fragile, yet bearing the power to move the heart and fate of so many.
That wasn't enough for her. Why? Why? Paper crackled and tore under her hooves. She was alone, piles of documents lining up before her. They were like mountains, overwhelming, crushing. She bore that weight, and the kingdom went well. Her life was simple. Deal with the paper, and the people were happy. Dance for them, guide them, and they lived good lives. Equestria was in a golden age, the people prospered.
That wasn't enough. She only had to sit in her throne and all was well. But that wasn't enough. Why?
Twilight looked out the window. Stone peaks to the north. Mountains beckoned. The curtain dropped, and all she saw was a Place inside the mountains bearing her name.
Twilight Sparkle looked up. She'd imagined it would look majestic somehow, that it would be a solemn moment, but the air was frigid, the wind unnaturally still, and she was thirsty. Her right eye twitched anxiously.
Grey, bare stone. That was all those mountains were. Grass poked out of the desolate ground here and there, and she could make out the shape of pines on their flanks, but looking at them, she could only feel as if she was staring at a blank wall. A blank wall with a gaping, darkened opening where the mountain seemed to split at the base. The halfheartedly-built fence serving as a makeshift threshold looked more lively than them. There was a pony huddled in blankets a few feet away from the threshold, trying to shield himself from a nonexistent wind by curling up behind a large boulder. His hair was gone in places, his coat patchy. Ribs pressed against his skin. He blinked and looked up at her, passing a dry tongue over dry lips.
"I couldn't do it... I couldn't..." Shaky hooves, begging, grasping at air. "Please... water..."
She left the pony with a full waterskin and marched onward, past the threshold, looking defiantly up at the mountains. Then, a few steps later, she stopped and turned. She had dried rations, and he had looked famished, she probably could—
There was no one.
She looked back to the mountains and passed a dry tongue on her lips. She took a swig out of her waterskin, and stepped into the darkness of the stone.
She held a small brass clock between her hooves. She'd gotten it a long time ago, a present from when she'd graduated from school. She must have knocked it off the shelf one time too many, and it had been stuck on four o'clock ever since.
She tested the hands. They sprung back to four o'clock. She put the clock back down. It sat tucked in a bookshelves, behind historical treaties and geopolitical dissections of different parts of Equestria. She always checked on it when she entered her personal library. Maybe it would start working on its own some day.
A scroll had been unfurled on her desk, weighed down by paperweights to keep it from rolling itself back. Stones. From the north. It must have been an important and urgent document, judging from the official seals stamped on it. She glanced at it, scribbled something on some lines, rolled it tightly.
She cocked her head. Where had her paperweights gone? She could have sworn— She shook her head. What did it matter anyway? She had better things to do.
Gallop Hoofworth's treatise on the sociopolitical symbolism of the Rose Lily sat untouched at the corner of her desk. She'd been waiting all week for the release of that book, and now she finally had some time to unwind and take a look inside its pages. Despite being an obscure author studying even more obscure subjects, she seemed determined to make every book she wrote a masterpiece from the very cover itself. Last time, her essays on the importance of the tectonic activity caused by the Dragonlands on tradeable resources had inspired her to request every copy to be inlaid with slivers of gemstones mined from the Dragonlands. This time, gold leaf traced the outlines of a veritable forest of rose lilies, and the title of the book, "Of Lilies And Wars", was cleverly made by using silver for the letters instead of gold, and letting the curves of the lilies suggest the letters. She sighed and a faint smile touched her lips. It was rare to see an author put so much devotion into making sure their work was a delight to the eyes from moment zero. She reverently lifted the cover, the unmistakable smell of a new book fresh off the prints filling her mind with memories of her foalhood, that particular scent invariably announcing the start of a delectable, memorable adventure.
"I heard your meeting with Bramble Saddleton went well, Princess Twilight."
Twilight closed her eyes and slowly closed the cover of "Of Lilies And Wars". The fragments of pleasant memories tore themselves from her mind. They had become increasingly shapeless, like a drawing retraced too many times. It seemed every time she settled on a fairly clear memory, one that made her heart a little bit lighter, Noble Duty arrived to take her out of the moment. "It did. Thank you, Noble Duty."
"I have arranged for another meeting three days hence. I trust this is acceptable?"
Like a bad migraine, Twilight's internal calendar came to her mind. After so many years of keeping tight schedules, she could visualize a full list of appointments carefully dated and annotated by that part of her brain that never seemed to sleep. "I have a slot of an hour between my appointment with the Minister of Agriculture to discuss the locust infestation in the south, and my appointment to inaugurate Madame Ribbon's new dance school."
"An hour might not be enough." Noble Duty shook her head. "By the way I read the transcript, it seems the issues with his family's mines will take longer than an hour."
"Cancel the dance school's appointment."
"You will be missed."
Madame Ribbon had been instrumental in her effort to encourage the youth's creativity and expected her to return the favour by appearing at the opening of her schools. Twilight frowned and tapped impatiently on her desk. "Split the meeting with the Minister in two. Forty-five minutes should be enough to brief me on the locust problem. Combine him with my meeting with the Buffalo Chief the day after, it must touch his lands too and they can work together on a solution."
"Duly noted." Noble Duty bowed and left.
Twilight Sparkle reclined in her chair. It creaked under her. Her head hurt.
The clock opened easily in her hooves. She'd opened and closed it so many times she could do it with her eyes closed now. In no way was she a master clockmaker, however. Despite her countless attempts at repairing her little brass clock, it still refused to work. She'd refused to have it seen by a specialist, instead opting to look into books for a way to repair it properly. No luck. For all she knew, she'd messed with the insides so much it was broken beyond all hope. But she always hoped that by prodding and testing, she'd end up finding a way to have it working again.
Wasn't it strange how easily a clock could stop working? At first, she'd taken it apart carefully, looking over every piece to see if one had broken, or had been bumped out of place. But every single one of them had looked like new, like the clock should have been working perfectly. But one of them must have been broken. One of them must have been misplaced. Why else would a perfectly good clock just stop working? Someone had once told her some clock were just made like that, and that their true purpose transcended that of a clock. Sometimes, a clock was meant to be a paperweight in the end.
She'd always refused to use that clock as a paperweight. She simply pushed and nudged the cogs and gears and springs, hoping one day she'd happen on what had caused it to stop. Six hundred years and counting. Maybe more. She barely had to pay any attention to it. Her focus was already taken by "Of Lilies And Wars". She didn't even notice when she put the brass casing back around the insides of the clock and laid it back on her desk. She didn't even need a clock anyway. She had something even better—and more pestering—to remind her of her appointments.
"It is eight o'clock, Princess Twilight."
She didn't know if she wanted her clock to start working again. In a life busy with appointments and clearly scheduled events, having that little defective clock waiting for her at her desk was oddly comforting. No matter what the day or night had in store for her, she could always count on that clock to dutifully point to four o'clock when she looked at it. She closed the book and rose from her chair. She poked the clock. It was four o'clock. She smiled. "Thank you, Noble Duty."
“The treaties I left on your desk?”
“Taken care of.”
“The ones I left after I came?”
Twilight glanced at her desk. A few scrolls sat stamped and sealed. She hadn't even noticed them, and hadn't even noticed herself filling them. It wouldn't be the first time, though every time she unconsciously did her job, it turned out just fine in the end. It always made her nervous. Not because she feared she did her job wrong, but because she never felt like she actually did anything.
Who was Princess Twilight, the lauded ruler who had brought the realms to a golden age and was admired even in distant lands? Twilight Sparkle always caught herself being more interested in obscure historical treaties than in politics, even as she shaped a bright destiny for her people.
Did she even care, or was it a side hobby for her, that she preferred to ignore and forget about when it was done? Only the sun and the moon could shake her into considering her position as princess of Equestria, but not because she knew the world itself hung on whether or not she could coax the celestial bodies to rise, but because…
Because…
A tall figure, backlit by the raising sun. The pinions of her wings spread outward as she greeted her charge with majesty and pride despite going through the motions hundreds of thousands of times. Something glimmered. Gold on her head. The mountains bathed in gold as the sun rose. Gold. White.
Twilight blinked and yawned. Banish the image. Bury it. “Yes, took care of them. Eight o'clock now.” Noble Duty bowed lightly to her. Eight o'clock. Time to raise the moon. Twilight stepped outside to the balcony and raised the moon. It shone in the night sky. She always stared at it, for some reason. Not that it wasn't beautiful in its own right. She simply felt as if it deserved to be admired for the beauty it brought to the world. Its light spread over the lands like a silvery veil, and glimmered somewhere in the mountains to the north. She blinked, remembering something, but it was gone before she could fully recall it.
The night was beautiful. She had always found the night beautiful. Stargazing had been one of her favourite hobbies ever since she was a filly. But for some reason, every time she looked up at the night sky, she felt some ponies didn't appreciate it enough.
Twilight still remembered the trips she took with her family to the Equestrian countryside. Quaint dirt roads snaking through lush fields and pastures, forests of a deep green filled with the chatter of wildlife in the trees, ponds and lakes glimmering in the sunlight. So many beautiful sights, though the one that had always moved her the most had always been the sight of uncountable stars glittering against the dark of the sky up above. She'd spent hours tracing constellations with her hoof, enchanted by the twinkling lights she could feel in her very soul.
She wriggled a bit in the cool grass to find a comfortable position. The hill upon which she'd settled offered her a perfect view of the sky without any tree to block the sight of the stars above. A pleasant breeze blew about her, making the hot summer evening much more bearable. This was good. Birds and bugs sang the song of the night around her, a sweet melody that meant she was all alone with her thoughts. She fidgeted with her brass clock, but as she couldn't see much, ended up stuffing it back into her bag. She would try fixing it again tomorrow.
There was a fire somewhere. It crackled and warmed her, and cast a faint light from somewhere near. The stars and the moon, so round and beautiful, looking down from above, were the only other sources of light. Why was there a campfire nearby anyway? When she was alone, she always enjoyed the darkness of night. She didn't want to look around and see where it came from. For once in her life, she just accepted things as they were and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment. Had she ever been this relaxed before? The stars rippled and wavered in the black waters of the lake, and the sand of the beach shimmered in the moonlight like silver dust collecting around the lake. Were those whispers she was hearing? Soft voices calling her name? She took a deep breath and ignored them. They nagged at her.
Water lapped against the lakeside beach. The lake below her rippled in the breeze, and pinpricks of light danced with the waves. If it had stood still and calm like a mirror, she could have made herself believe that the stars reflecting against its surface were merely a continuation of the cosmic majesty shining above her. She could imagine herself floating in space, free, without a need to care for anything but the heat of the stars around her. No one but her.
She smiled at the moon, and the moon smiled back. Her confident in dark times. How many prayers had Twilight offered to her silent guardian? How many wishes had she whispered in the night? She'd lost count. The moon had always been a reminder that the light of the sun was never far, even at night, that the ears of were never truly out of reach, that she could always ask for guidance under her breath, and that the moon would whisper back to her, encourage her and guide her.
A flight of books under the moon. She closed her eyes and smiled. This was good.
Water lapped against the lakeside beach. A constant sound in the back of her mind. Water stirring against the rocks. The birds and the bugs had ceased their chant. All was silent. There were whispers. All was silent.
Water lapped against the lakeside beach. The fire crackled no more. Twilight stared at the lake, at the black waters stretching infinitely around her. Somepony stood on the lake, coming closer. She was cold. The moon shone above, like a silver sun rising over the mountains to the north. She smiled and waved and
Twilight glided on placid winds.
Equestria was a blur below her, a painting with running colours. The mountains beckoned.
Her sight was fixed on the snow-topped peaks on the horizon. Towering over Equestria, the northern mountains of the Crystal Empire stood like a bulwark against the frost of the arctic lands beyond. They glimmered in her eyes. The green of fields and forests below seemed to feed into them, desperately trying to claw their way to them but unable to cross the rocky terrain that split the land from its northern realm.
She caught an updraft and soared higher. The moon shone over the clouds.
Paper under her hoof. A lazy signature. She tapped her pen, poked her clock. It was four o'clock. She turned away from her desk and stared toward the north. Rocky spires rose over the land. It was five o'clock. Mountains to the north. It was eight o'clock. Mountains to the north. It was zero o'clock.
The mountains beckoned.
She shook water off her mane as she passed through a cloud and teased the canopy of a lush forest with her hooves as she passed overhead. The leaves tickled. She spun and added speed to her wingflaps. The air was getting colder. Denser. Soon, she could see her breath in the air. It blew either side of her face like she was a locomotive pumping out steam. But she wasn't a machine. She was an alicorn, a living being bringing her body heat into a land of cold.
The crowd applauded her performance. She curtsied as the curtains fell. There were two familiar ponies in the crowd. And they were gone. In their place was a grinning window. Snow-topped peaks against a grey sky. The mountains beckoned.
Hoarfrost made the northern lands look like they were encased in crystal. Maybe that had been why the Crystal Empire had been named that way, or maybe it was because the inhabitants were themselves made of crystal. She never understood how they even lived, breathed, ate, or reproduced, and she had never attempted to understand why. One of the rare times she didn't care about not knowing. She never really went to the Crystal Empire anyway. Not anymore.
She changed her course slightly. Going straight would have her go over the sole city present in these lands. She never went to the Crystal Empire. She wasn't about to change that just now. The wind carried her in a wide berth around a wall that seemed made of pure ice, taller than most trees in the land. There were glimmering ponies on top of it. She didn't look at them. Her gaze was locked to the north and its dizzying peaks. The mountains beckoned.
Something splashed in water. Somepony cried out and fell. The tiles were cold. The air was stale. She looked up and saw nothing. She curled up and cried, holding her tail. She stood tall and saluted her legions. She turned her gaze northward, looking down from the constellations. There was nothing but rocks, and grey titans looming on the horizon. She closed her eyes and saw the call clearly, that obsessive whisper dragging her to the farthest reaches of Equestria in search of a Question.
Twilight Sparkle stood alone in the throne room of Canterlot Castle.
It was a strange place that seemed to morph and shift depending on the time of day. During the day, when the court was open to the public, sycophants, courtesans, nobles, and the common pony alike crowded the space so much that the throne room felt as small as a broom closet, constrictive and stuffy, and the throne towered over them as regally as any monarch. During the night, after the servants ushered out the last stragglers and cleaned the floor, the throne stood alone in the middle of a sea of darkness, cowering in a space too big for it.
She often took some time to stand in the throne room after dark and think. Think about what, she didn't quite know. She always had this feeling, like there was something she needed to give a good, long reflection about just on the edge of her thoughts, but it was inevitably swept away by other, more pressing matters. Appointments, legislations, public appearances, all things she needed to keep as a priority in order to be a good princess. Work tirelessly, make your people happy. That was her duty. She sighed. Gallop Hoofworth's book still sat unread in her office. By the time she'd manage to read it, the author would probably have already released a new book. Or died. Either was possible.
She walked along the stained glass windows lining the western side of the room. They depicted important moments of Equestria's history and had been placed there to remind ponies to always be watchful and remember the troubles that had fallen upon them and which they'd had to overcome, and as celebrations for important triumphs for ponykind. However, Twilight couldn't quite recall what they depicted. A long time ago, a fault in the glass had manifested, and the windows became vague shadows when light hit them, obscuring the scenes they depicted. It hadn't seemed to bother the court or the servants, or anypony for that matter. So Twilight hadn't bothered fixing them.
You should sleep.
Her eyelids were heavy as she dragged herself through the room. She was sleepy, but sleep would not find her. This was one of the frequent nights where she needed to move after spending close to an hour tossing and turning in bed. She'd stayed up late to study up on locust invasions in preparation for her upcoming meeting with the Minister of Agriculture and the Buffalo Chief, and during that entire time, she'd wanted nothing more than get to bed and sleep. And still, when she'd finally pulled herself out of her books and got in bed, she had gotten the sudden urge to study up more on those problems just to be sure she was ready. And when she'd picked up her books again, a nauseating wave of fatigue had washed over her. And so she had gone back to bed.
Rinse and repeat for the next hour or so.
Her steps brought her back to her throne and she let herself fall on her haunches on the cushioned seat. Her entire body felt like it was made of lead. Twilight was tired. Tired and exhausted. Twilight Sparkle couldn't handle all of this, all of those disputes and the complaints and the politicking and the handling of fussy and spiteful nobles and politicians who seemed intent on seeing her kingdom fall. Twilight Sparkle couldn't handle this, but Princess Twilight… that was the whole purpose of Princess Twilight's life. That was her drive, her reason for living. The throne felt unfamiliar under her. Now, she couldn't recognize it, but tomorrow… tomorrow Princess Twilight would wake up to a new day, and would handle all of this. All Twilight Sparkle needed was to take a backseat and take her hooves off the wheel.
The snow crinkled underhoof. Twilight's mane billowed in the wind. The air of the north had a crispness and freshness that was so unlike the air of Canterlot it felt as if she'd stepped onto a whole other planet. She vaguely wished for a scarf, but her thoughts didn't linger long on that, as they were quick to turn to her surroundings.
She was on a rocky outcropping overlooking a plunging valley carpeted in freshly-fallen snow glimmering silver in the moonlight. A forest as dark as tar surrounded the shimmering trail, and here and there, the eyes of its inhabitants shone like mirrors in the darkness. The snow softened her hoofbeats so that they made only the faintest muffled sound as she trod upon the immaculate ground beneath. Ponies were rare here, and the animals curious.
Nopony went into the mountains if they didn't feel their call, not even the most daring of pegasi. Theirs was a sacred slumber, revered and feared alike, and to break their solitude was to attract a gaze as ancient as the mountains themselves. She could feel it on her right then and there, a subtle weight that silently judged her. Ponies nowadays seldom knew where their fear of the mountains came from. That fear was simply as natural as the fear of a newborn foal before a wolf, a fear told through stories and legends by parents to their children, and their children after that, and their children after that, until all was left was the distilled essence of uneasiness that shrouded those mountains.
There was a gate delimiting the threshold to the mountains, whipped to unnatural smoothness by the wind and ice that existed in permanence in these lands. A tattered blanket poked from underneath a large boulder a short distance away from the threshold. She tugged at it, and it unfurled. Her waterskin was inside, traces of ice clinging to its lip. Useless now. She left it behind and crossed the threshold.
A long, silent walk followed. An odd sense of familiarity clung to her as she pushed into the mountains and started on a wide trail shielded from the wind by the mountain flank. Here and there, colourful scarves poked out of snowbanks. The path wound about, curving so much at certain points that she swore it was going back and over the entrance point, but despite trying to make out her position, she couldn't see behind the stone flanking either side of the trail. Had somepony carved that path? It was much too smooth, much too cohesive to have been formed naturally. Yet despite this, it also felt as if there was no way somepony had designed it. It wound around itself strangely, became unnecessarily wide at certain places only to then tighten in such a way that she could barely squeeze her way through. Had it been carved by the whims of the strange winds surrounding this place? Was it something more? Hours passed, and dusk started to fall, yet Twilight still walked. She started seeing stone circles and remnants of fires long-gone from ponies that had had to stop for the day and replenish their energy. Supernatural stamina kept her going, gritting her teeth.
Eventually, the trail widened into a large forested valley. The smooth stone of the mountains sloped away from her until they were only peaks far above her. How odd it was to go from a bare, snowy mountain trail, to a thick coniferous forest. There were no animals there, only silent trees and that ominous wind that whistled somewhere close by. She had to climb over fallen trees, go around thickets so dense she couldn't see through them. The air smelled different here. It almost smelled of home, of rich earthy scents and good wood, only much, much colder. She filled up her waterskin at a running stream, ate some of the rations she'd packed for the road. Even that brief stop sickened her. The pull inside her was too strong, too demanding. She needed to get moving, to find her Question. She left a half-eaten biscuit behind in her haste. The walk was… good. Surprisingly good. The forest here truly was beautiful, with pine needles dusted with snow making her surroundings look like it was out of some fine landscape painting, and the sounds of a river coursing through the mountain forest soothing her. How had this place become cursed, shunned by everypony?
Eventually, she stepped into a large clearing within the valley, and she understood. She understood the legends and myths, the fairytales and fears surrounding the frozen north. She understood the fears of ponykind, the monsters they made up in the night. She smiled, and wiped cold sweat from her brow.
In the clearing there was an altar. A small stone pillar bared by the elements and polished clean by the winds, with barely a trace of the fine engravings that once covered its surface. And atop the altar lay an old tattered journal eaten away by time, wet with snow and seeming about to fall apart at any moment. Despite the state of disrepair it was in, Twilight could still see the horseshoe printed on its front page, the six gems finely inlaid to mark its importance to her.
She could still see the very first page in her mind.
Dear Diary,
This is the first official entry of the Journal of Friendship being entered by Twilight Sparkle.
She could still feel the smile on her face when she had written that first entry. She could still feel the weight in her saddlebag as she had carried it everywhere she'd gone. She could still feel the heat of the fire as she'd thrown it into the ever-burning hearth at the centre of Canterlot Castle. Chill filled her to the core, a chill not from the frigid mountain air.
“You're still watching me, aren't you?”
The journal felt as fragile as it looked between her hooves, and the corners cracks and fell. She cradled it like a mother would her foal, and undid the clasp of her saddlebag, slid it inside.
She looked up. Snow-topped peaks loomed overhead. Inside them, there was a Place, and she had to reach it. The mountains beckoned.
Whoever had designed Canterlot Castle had been clinically insane. At least that was what Twilight told herself at least once a month when she happened to find yet another oddity that made her question the sanity of the original architects. There was no shortage of hidden passages ending in dead-ends, of hallways that looped upon themselves as if they had been meant to lead to several different rooms along the wall, yet only held a single door to a random broom closet, nor of random assortments of hidden levers and switches that would make some part of the wall pivot upon itself to give some poor maid a good scare as she was cleaning the armoury only to see herself whisked into the dining hall. Of course, most of those she could chalk up to rooms being added or removed, of the castle's general layout shifting over the millennia it had been inhabited.
What she couldn't excuse was the decision to put a sundial in the basement.
She had checked. It had been underground since the day the castle had been built. In fact, it had allegedly been one of the first pieces of the castle to have been set. What was even stranger was that the room in which it stood seemed to have been built for the express purpose of holding it, and the sundial was far too large to fit through the only door leading out of the room. It was about two ponylengths in diameter, and polished to an almost mirror sheen. It didn't take her more than a few seconds with a ball of light inside that room to note how odd its slick finish was as well. Who would make a sundial that would blind you if you tried to look at it during the day? Perhaps that had been why it had been put underground, so nopony had the misfortune of burning off their retinas by glancing at it at noon where the sun would turn it into a ball of radiant pain. But then why bother putting it underground? If the intent had been to get rid of it, why not throw it in the river just next to Canterlot? Or rough up the surface with sandpaper? Or not make a reflective sundial in the first place?
It was an odd, useless thing, in a small, useless room away from all the hustle and bustle of the castle. Which was why it was one of Twilight's favourite rooms. She had made herself a nice bed of cushions and sometimes sneaked away from her quarters to read in there, and the servants knew better than to disturb her when the door to the room was closed. It was only her, the silence, the smell of history past, and a good book.
Sometimes she could manage to relax for a few minutes. Now she'd managed to sneak out Gallop Hoofworth's "Of Lilies And Wars" and perhaps she would finally manage to read a little bit of it. She caressed the rich cover lovingly, such a masterpiece, inlaid in gold and silver and—
She blinked.
Six gemstones dulled by time.
A faded horseshoe pattern.
The smell of smoke hung in the air.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT—
Somepony knocked at the door and Twilight started with a yelp of surprise. She shot a look to the book she'd brought. “Of Lilies And Wars”. Inlaid gold and silver. She blinked. What had that been all about? Was she so tired she was starting to hallucinate? She shook herself out of her stunned state as best she could and spoke up. “What is it?”
“Princess Twilight, it is getting late.”
Noble Duty. Of course. It was always her who disturbed her when she tried to rest. She had spent the entire week dealing with minor nobles and their squabblings over even more minor plots of land. Her limbs were still heavy with the sleep debt she'd incurred from all her nights hunched over legal documents and land titles trying to decide in whose favour to rule. And it had been such a brilliant idea at first, to reinstate the noble houses, decentralize the power from Canterlot so the land could rule itself better.
How could she have been so stupid? Now she had to not only assuage the worries of the populace, but also deal with little ponies who thought themselves more important than they were.
“It's not late,” she shot back to Noble Duty. “I brought my clock with me to make sure I don't spend too much time here. It's four o'clock, go away.”
“Princess Twilight, that clock is broken.”
She'd seen right through her lies. Thinking quickly, she rolled to her hooves and positioned her ball of light over the sundial. A little to the left… She squinted as the mirrorlike surface tried blinding her. “I also have a sundial as a backup, and it also tells me that it's four o'clock. Go away.”
“Princess Twilight, that sundial is in a stone room underground. I highly doubt the sun reaches it.”
Twilight looked at her book again and shivered. Well that had killed the mood even before her assistant had come to bother her so…
Noble duty stood still behind the door. She didn't even so much as twitch when Twilight opened the door and stepped out of her quiet room, and glared down at her with all the ire a sleep-deprived alicorn princess could muster. Not that the display would serve much of a purpose to intimidate the blind mare. Not that Twilight would actually do such a thing in the first place. The thought briefly touched Twilight's mind: Noble Duty, walking away from her, frightened by the responsibility of keeping her princess on track. The castle's basement suddenly felt much gloomier and she was glad Noble Duty couldn't see the many irate glares she so often levelled at her. “What time is it?”
“It is almost eight o'clock, Princess Twilight.” Noble Duty lightly bowed her head. “I wanted to ensure you didn't lapse in your duties.”
Princess Twilight closed her eyes and sighed quietly. She hadn't realized it had been so late when she'd sneaked away to her quiet place. Perhaps she did need a new clock. The moon needed to be raised every evening just as the sun needed to be raised every morning. “Thank you, I don't know what I'd do without you. I… might have let myself go today.”
“I am here to serve.”
She left the book behind.
After the pleasant darkness of the basement, the evening sun felt as if it was stabbing Princess Twilight's eyes in retaliation for having been neglected and left to stand too high for too long. She hastened to her platform, almost bumping into some of her attendants who hurried out of her way as she passed them while mumbling apologies. She was out of breath by the time she reached the balcony and paused to catch her breath. The stylized statues of the sun and moon seemed to glare at her as she approached. She centred herself and stepped onto the dais. It was time to raise the moon.
She lifted her head and closed her eyes. The sun slid down behind the horizon. The moon went up.
“What good am I as a princess if I need to be constantly pushed to do my duties?” She whispered under her breath. The moon was round and brilliant tonight. She felt like a dull pebble in comparison. “My ministers do all the important work, the one that helps everypony. I just look pretty in court and deal with problem I created myself because of bad decisions. I'm useless.”
“If I may, Princess Twilight.”
Princess Twilight nearly stumbled off the dais in surprise. Somehow, Noble Duty had managed to sneak up behind her. The mare's eyes were lifted to the moon.
“Surely you must not be useless. Everything has a purpose, everything is meaningful. If you were truly without purpose, you wouldn't be here. Perhaps you need to be reminded to do your duties, but who doesn't?”
Twilight looked at her hooves and nodded solemnly. “I'll think about it. Thank you, Noble Duty.”
She stayed on the dais for a while. The cool night air felt good in her mane, blowing snow about her in small whirlwinds. Her legs felt heavy. So heavy. Perhaps she could just lie down on the ground for a while, just a little while… She shook her head. Bed. She needed her bed.
The walk to her chambers had her feel like somepony had poured molasses inside her limbs. She waved distractedly to the servants, nodded to her ministers as they hurried to her to whisper some about some last-minute changes or news they'd received. Always something more. Always something to do. She should be working, she should be helping, she should be—
She blinked. The ministers were walking away, nodding to each other in satisfaction. Oh, so that was done now. What time was it? She looked at the moon by sheer force of habit and rubbed her forehead. Of course the moon was up, she'd just raised it.
Stars she was tired. She wished Noble Duty let her relax a little sometimes, then maybe she wouldn't have constant lapses in attention and maybe she wouldn't feel so damn tired all the time.
She pulled the covers tightly over herself. Things had been so much easier before, hadn't they? Was she just getting old or… no that couldn't be it. She was as youthful as ever, of course. It seemed that with the blessing of youth and immortality had come a curse. Long ago, long, long ago, she had only been a simple unicorn, hadn't she? She could still vaguely remember long evenings spent reading, researching for knowledge's sake, and time spent with
Tired… So tired… It was so much worse lately…
Her curtains were see-through, and she let the moonlight lull her to sleep.
The wind blew ice-cold around Twilight. She thought that as she pressed further into the mountains, the stone would shield her from the fury of the elements, but all the treacherous cliffs of Featherless Canyon did was funnel the wind and turn it into an angry, howling gale intent on flaying Twilight to the bone.
She was starting to understand why nopony ever went into the mountains. Fortunately, magic was the panacea for most ailments, and conjured energies around her shielded her from nature's fury in the form of a bubble that cast an eerie purple glow on the bare rock around her. Unfortunately, being surrounded in a bubble didn't make her aerodynamic, and it was with a crawling pace that Twilight pushed into Featherless Canyon. Few places in the mountains of the North had a name, but this one managed to become infamous enough to earn one, after the story of a pegasus losing all her feathers after foolishly attempting to enter it. With the strength of the winds pushing against her, Twilight was inclined to consider that story more fact than fiction. Sheer stone cliffs rose either side of her, split by an uneven path that wound and snaked about the mountain's core. She didn't know what had happened to that particular peak to have been split in two, nor did she care about knowing. All she cared about at this particular moment was to keep her balance and not get swept away by the gale winds rushing around her, and reach the Place.
The mountains of the North were old. They were there when ponykind crossed from the Old World into Equestria. They were there before the first pony had even breathed its first breath. They would be there long after the last pony would breath its last. Their precipitous majesty had claimed the life of many, and as much as they were a bulwark against the ambiguously disquieting dangers lurking in the Greater North beyond their threshold, they were also the tomb of many a pony who perished looking for the Place. And thus the legacy of the mountains endured since the birth of that mad adventurous impulse that occasionally seized a young pony in the prime of their life and ran them aground in the frozen wastes, a legacy of jealous protectiveness and harsh judgement in exchange for a question.
In the North there were the mountains. In the mountains there was a Place. In that Place there was a Question. Nopony knew the Question, but everypony knew the Answer. Everypony held their Answer. The madness that had pushed the ponies whose frozen corpses were now littered about the mountains was invariably born from that Answer which everypony was bound to. Most received their Answer with open hooves and tucked it in a quiet part of their mind, where it melded with the rest of their lives, and was eventually as disturbing to them as their own tail or their own hooves. But for some, the Answer was a searing light in their brain, a vexing enigma that ate its way to the forefront of their mind and drove them to seek the Question hidden in the North.
Twilight grinned. She wasn't like them. She had never been like them. For most, the Answer was stamped right on their flank: the primordial purpose imbued into an individual by whatever force was driving the universe, in the form of a Cutie Mark. Some were clear. Some were nebulous. Some drove their wearers to near insanity as they desperately tried to figure out what they meant. No Cutie Mark bothered explaining why their bearer had been directed toward a certain path. Twilight was a master of magic, a spark in the life of others, a beacon guiding an entire realm, driving the flow of nations under her rule. Her Answer was power, unity, guidance. She had yearned for it all her life, been molded for it all her foalhood by
But that wasn't why she was here. As she shielded herself from the wind in a depression in one of the stone cliffs, she couldn't help but note the irony that the sole pony to ever reach the Place would be one who didn't seek the Question that so many others before her wanted asked. No, her Answer wasn't a typical one, and for most who came into the mountains looking for the metaphysical reason for their destiny, would sound very foolish indeed.
She waited a while for the wind to die down. There were lulls between gusts, moments when the wind abated enough to start crossing the canyon again without risking being blown away. While she waited, she could only think, and ball herself up against the wall to try and preserve whatever body heat she had left to sustain her. Every time she did, she shivered. There were so many bodies huddled against the walls, balled up in a desperate attempt to survive, only to succumb to the cold. But she wasn't like them. She wouldn't die. She wouldn't die. Not yet.
She shook her head as dark thoughts spiralled in her mind, and undid the clasp of her saddlebag. Heat rose in her cheeks as she held the dilapidated-yet-somehow-unburnt diary in front of her. The six gemstones inserted inside the cover had long become dull, but she could still picture their colours as vividly as the day she held it for the first time. She could still see the worn and dull cover before she had thrown it into cleansing flames. First had been portraits of some ponies she had known. Souvenirs and mementos. The flames had cleansed her mind of the pain, allowed her to put the past behind. Now this one had come back to haunt her. Centuries after she'd watched fire dance over that book, fully consuming it, it was back to haunt her.
That diary contained her Answer. And her Answer was: “Because I hate them.”
The wind blew ice-cold. So cold. She couldn't afford to drift to sleep. Couldn't afford to let the cold take her. She held on to that flame, that smoke-filled, warm memory where she had rid herself of the pain of betrayal and abandon, and let the wind abate. When she pressed on deeper into the canyon, she felt warm.
Chapter the light: the light chapter ten the light it's pretty
Warmth. Warmth to protect herself. Warmth to pass through the cruel winds. Twilight walked on cold stone, warmed from within. The mountains shied before her, their cold a distant thing before the warmth animating her limbs. It was fire. It was the heart of Canterlot she'd seen so long ago.
Canterlot has a heart she saw it when she'd been young following distant hoofsteps so distant in her mind so far so vague so persistent.
Step by step. Closer. Yet closer. Something was coming to her but she didn't know why and didn't know where it would lead her. Her guide spoke something of importance. It made her head ache.
A blinding light behind a door hidden from sight hidden from the mind hidden from everypony except her and the regal majesty of Canterlot burnt from days and nights and reigns and falls. Hidden from her except now. Not now anymore. She remembered the light peeking under the door. She remembered the light peeking through the cracks in the walls. Why were there cracks what was going on she asked her guide but she shook her head and laughed and kept moving and Twilight could not stop her despite her pleading to listen. But she couldn't stop. She was sad. She looked at her and smiled. This is my duty she said. This is my burden she said. Come I will show you she said.
She pushed the door and Twilight saw and didn't understand. Behind the door there was infinity and vistas without walls and without borders stretching beyond sight and beyond mind and in the centre of it all light permeating everything.
SEARING.
She stared and didn't understand. Her guide gently pushed her forward so she could understand. She stepped under the light. Equestria stretched under her in rolling hills and mountains and plains and cities and ponies going about their days and Twilight watched and took it all in. They were so small. Their lives was a delicate machinery. She just wanted to reach and touch and gently direct the flow of life just to see how it would go.
BURNING.
Here was something that didn't fit her mood and so she changed it. Here was something she wanted different and so she changed it. Her hooves shuffled people and places and entire seas around and her heart beat like a steam engine overflowing with heat. So much to do. So much to change. So much to do so much to change so much to do so much to change so much to do so much to do so much to do so much to do
SCORCHING.
Her back felt hot. Hotter than hot. A flame had been taken to her coat. Lava had been injected into her veins. She watched and reached for the little lives below her and felt her body melt and burst aflame like kindling and consume her mind and soul and heart and her voice was cinders and her screams were blazing coals and the peaceful world below burst into flames and a million tiny screams pierced her ears and
Comforting.
Her guide pulled her away and showed her. She gently righted the wrongs and guided the lost and forgotten and soothed the hearts of those who needed help.
Gentle.
She offered assistance. Guidance. Force was seldom used, and only lightly.
Calming.
Equestria drifted to peaceful sleep once again. The guide smiled. This was how it was done. Twilight would understand some day. Surely she would.
But she wouldn't. Twilight knew she wouldn't. The light was too strong too hot too much for her. The light consumed her as readily as a starving dragon would a little pony. She was small so small so insignificant so very very small and afraid. She turned to the guide.
The guide was gone. There was nothing but Equestria. And the light. And the warmth.
SEARING.
She couldn't tame the light and she couldn't use the light like she did and couldn't help ponies like she did but the light and the warmth brought her comfort and peace when she needed it and cleansed and purged and purified with fire and flames so warm so beautiful and pages disappeared and portraits disappeared and memories disappeared into the light and fed it and molded it and she was the light's tool now. The light knew what it needed to do to shine over Equestria. The light knew how to bring her peace. All was good. All was as it should be. Her guide would have been disappointed in her, that she never figured out how to gently direct the light, and how she had needed to give herself over to it, but she had others to help her now. All would be good.
She couldn't remember what her guide had looked like. She didn't want to remember. She had disappointed her, and so her guide had left. Twilight had been alone ever since. Lost. Only the light brought clarity to the world. Only the light warmed her, kept her going. When the light dimmed, she felt empty. She could only feed the light and keep it going, a blazing bonfire eating problems and issues and pain and bad things. It was good. She could give herself to it and it was good.
She crawled on stones she climbed up the mountain and looked at the horizon. The light was just behind and above and below and bathed her soul and heart in gold. Gold. Gold. Gold. Gold. Gold and white. Gold and white. Don't think don't think don't think don't think don't think. Gold and white and don't think.
The light collapsed under its own weight and rebuilt itself anew over and over it passed and came and ebbed and flowed and ponies died and ponies lived and ponies lived under the light the gold and white light of gold and white and gold and white and don't think don't think don't think don't think.
The mountain was cold under her hooves and on her flesh. Biting wind. Biting snow. Biting cold. So cold. The light was tenuous here. She saw it behind the mountains. Above the mountains. Hidden in the mountains. Gold and white light. Don't think.
Part of the mountainside had broken off, and inside was gold and silver
She'd spotted the anomaly as she was halfway through the canyon with the howling winds. As she tucked herself into a crack in the wall to weather the gale, her gaze had drifted to a broken peak she could make out over the walls of the canyon. Part of it was broken, like some giant had hit it with a hammer and collapsed part of the mountain, revealing two massive veins and gold and silver.
They were like nothing Twilight had ever seen before. They twisted and wrapped around each other in peculiar ways that made her head feel fuzzy, and if she blurred her vision, the patterns melded together in something that looked far too much like a mouth open in a wordless scream. She tried not looking at it, but as the sun started to drift to the west, it hit the veins directly, making them glimmer and shine in mesmerizing ways. There was a strange relief to that exposed gold and silver, and even to that whole part of the mountain, and Twilight could swear she saw in the light of the evening the clearly defined planes of a head, twisted about the mountain in such a way that it would be unrecognizable from anywhere other than her hiding spot. It stayed with her until she'd come out of the canyon, shifting and dancing before her eyes like the stone was a living thing, watching her go curiously. Or maybe pleading to her. Her skin crawled every time she looked at it and she wished she'd just curl up and close her eyes until the feeling passed, but she forced herself to keep going. Her supplies were dwindling. Already she was running low on water, she couldn't afford to stop. But even if she drank what remained of her water, her throat still felt dry whenever her eyes would wander over that screaming face.
Even after the sun had passed, and the mountain was plunged in the shade of the late afternoon, Twilight could still see that strange, silent scream behind her closed eyes. She could hear it inside herself, pulsing inside her soul. She knew that scream. Inside her were veins of silver and gold screaming in sorrow and loss and fear. A silent scream of gold and silver. Gold and white gleaming in the sunlight. Gold and white and disappointment and sadness and betrayal and don't think don't think don't think SEARING don't think don't think don't think don't think BURNING don't think don't think don't think don't think don't think
Princess Twilight woke up with a smile. She could do this. Something shimmered at the edge of her sight. The light. It was pretty.
She glanced at her little brass clock. It was twelve o'clock. Time to wake up. Time to rule.
Noble Duty lightly nodded to her as she trotted out of her chambers. She understood. There was a strange resignation to her posture. She understood how it must be, but she didn't like it. Princess Twilight nodded to her assistants, her servants, her ministers. They blinked at her, almost in surprise. Why? Princess Twilight had everything under control, as always. Today was simply another day of her glorious reign.
It was five o'clock. She stepped up the dais reverently. Deep breaths. Power, just out of reach. Radiant beauty, there, right there. She pulled on it, raised it. The sun went up, bathing Equestria in light. Glorious light. Her smile widened. Golden light. Beautiful light. Pretty light. She yearned to be able to touch it like it touched her. She giggled. Not now. Not now. The light caressed her cheeks like it congratulated her on a job well done. She almost purred. Power. Majesty. It was hers to use. It was hers to move. How had she not seen it before? How had she been able to ignore it, to delude herself into not using her full potential?
Pancakes. Coffee. Delicious. The cook shrunk before her lavish praise of his work. Embarrassed? She couldn't miss the note of incomprehension in his face. Why? Princess Twilight was delighted by his work. He should smile! She grinned at him and he weakly returned a smile before bowing and excusing himself. Silly pony. Maybe it was the light. The pretty light. It was strong today. The sun. So beautiful. The sun. Radiant. She took a deep breath and could almost smell the sun in the air. The sun. The sun. So bright. Pretty light.
It was five o'clock and a half, time to freshen herself up and let her attendants work their magic on her mane. They too were taken aback as she chatted with them. Usually, they would talk into the silence and Twilight would only give vague replies and the occasional nod and chuckle, but she was on fire today, and got one of them to tell her about her daughter's excellent work in school and the new mane products they'd receive from Manehattan. When she left the dressing room all prim and proper, she'd already forgotten all the details. She couldn't care about a single pony, she had a kingdom to run! Maybe she could skip court today, go straight to her ministers and arrange things from there, tell them how the country should be run, order some new laws to be drafted. The noble houses were causing a bit of a stir, maybe it was time to remind them why they pledged fealty to her. She cracked her neck. She was so tense lately, she needed something to take the stress out. She'd have to see if the Royal Guard had a battalion or two to spare and they could walk on some houses and—
She shook her head and blinked at nothing. It was still morning, and she'd wandered into a corridor open to the east. Lazy sunlight poured over her from between the pillars supporting the ceiling. The light of the sun washed over her, warm and pressing. So many problems, so many malcontents. Why couldn't she just sweep them away and focus on the ponies who would stay in line and let her do her job? Why couldn't she just do her job? She squirmed. The sunlight was hot, and she hurried toward the throne room. She'd start by sending letters. Strongly worded letters. Warmth turned into cold guilt inside her as she crossed into the hall leading to the throne room. Had she really just been considering walking the army on the problematic nobles? She shook her head. She was just tired. Just tired. She couldn't be tired anymore. She needed… she needed to be glorious. Radiant. Like the sun. She needed to be bold. Decisive. The sun.
She looked out into the distance. The sun rose over the mountains, bathing the world in its beauty, in the radiant light of the dawn. She could do it. She was the sun. She was the sun. A shiver ran through her, chasing away her tiredness, her frustration. She smiled. She grinned. The sun bathed her. The sun bathed the world. She pressed onward through the wind, the mountainside fully exposed to the elements making for a poor spot to slow down. Snow crinkled underhoof with every step, and more than once, she thought a wild gust would catapult her out of the exposed trail and into the fog below. She gritted her teeth and pushed on. She smiled. She grinned. Her teeth hurt. She pushed against white. White marble. White snow. White. The light reflected off that white, made her eyes water. It stung, but it felt so good. So good! It blazed inside her, around her, pushing her forward.
Too long she’d felt stuck between two worlds. Too long she’d felt like she had been eclipsed by her task, by her duty. No more! She climbed up, up, rose over the mountains, her hooves devouring mile after mile of rocky terrain. She was a force unleashed upon the world. She was a radiant power, an unstoppable light consuming pain and misery.
The sun! The sun!
It blinded her. It scorched her. It melted her insides. It vapourized her mind. She could not find it in herself to care. She embraced the pyre of her self. Today, she was done being constrained by the laws of mortals. She had rejected her past, her friends, her family. Fed them to the fire. What was her self if not the next logical step?
White and gold and beauty and grace and THE SUN! and power in rule and love and THE SUN! and white and gold and this is how one rules and this is how THE SUN! and this is how life is and this is how THE SUN! THE SUN! THE SUN! THE SUN! THE SUN! THE SUN!
She opened her eyes.
Snow fell. Cold. Melting before her.
Stone. Stone. Around her. Below her. The mountain.
A door. Metal. Gilded. Carved into the mountainside. She stared at it as her heart beat a frantic cadence. Sunlight pounded against the metal, blazing red and yellow and white against the ancient door.
She pushed open the door and opened the throne room.
“Announcing the princess of Equestria, her majesty Twi—“
The crier’s words died in her mouth. Good. She did not need introductions. She stepped into the throne room, filling it with her radiance, with the majesty of her own self, unbound by fears and anxieties.
THE SUN! THE SUN!
She waved to the paper court and they wavered, cowered before her. Their sides were already starting to singe. They couldn’t stand her. They couldn’t withstand her majesty. She’d always known it. Let the common pony rule themselves and they would bend before the first storm coming their way, burn before the first true ruler showing them how things must be done.
THE SUN! THE SUN!
Princess Twilight raised a hoof, and the rustling of the paper court simmered down to silence.
She closed her eyes. Silence was good. Silence was the whisper of the placid forest in the evening. Silence was the gentle lapping of waves against some distant shore. Silence was the wind whistling in the grass. Silence wasn't silence. Silence was better than silence. The ponies saw silence not as a complete absence of sound, but as a dampening of the buzz of civilization to a more primal, natural sound. A thousand breaths rolling in the air like a collective murmur, the shuffling of hooves as restless bodies struggled to still themselves. Silence. She breathed out, lending her own sound to the silence. Heartbeat. The slow pulse of blood in her veins beating gently against her temples harmonized with the drone of the electrical currents running through her brain, the screaming of the light against her mind.
She'd heard true silence. The silence nopony save those who couldn't hear ever witnessed. Against the darkness of her closed eyelids, the stars glimmered as brightly as ever, and space stood still and frozen in its deathly, aeons-long silence. Did they know? Did they know how lucky they were, to burn bright like a flame, to run wild through the world like a noisy herd of dream-driven foals? Did they know that out there, out of their reach, the world lay almost completely still?
They didn't. And it was her duty in a way, to ensure they never quite knew. It was her burden to bear. Her duty. Her light would blind them, protect them.
The wind blew her mane into her face. She shivered, and the paper court took on hushed tones as they put hooves to the curtain strings, fiddled anxiously with their instruments. Princess Twilight breathed in. Breathed out. Poise. Control.
THE SUN! THE SUN!
The show started with a bowing overture as it always did, almost an apology from the silly old princess for not having been there to entertain them sooner. Drums beat against her head, trumpets rose in a crescendo to announce the first act.
It never came. The music stood alone in the air, strangled in its own momentum.
Princess Twilight opened her eyes.
Every head was turned toward the gilded double doors from which stretched a seemingly endless line of ponies come to petition their princess, and from which a lithe and tall figure emerged without waiting for her turn to cross the threshold. She strode into the throne room with steps as delicate as snowflakes yet decisive as an avalanche. Her very presence seemed to bring the chill of winter with her, freezing the air as well as the courtesans, who now stood mesmerized by the ethereal guest who had graced the Canterlot Court with her presence. The guards watched her and her entourage pass without raising a hoof. They didn't have any reason to do so, of course, but Princess Twilight would have loved nothing more for them to turn the visitor away and back to whence she had come, even though a warm smile touched her lips as the distance between the two of them lessened to almost nothing. A cold wind washed over her. The light retreated, afraid, screaming at her to send the intruder away. But she was frozen still. The sun’s heat wavered before the cold.
She knelt before Princess Twilight. Pale wings fluttered on her back. The light caught on a horn seemingly sculpted from the purest crystal and cast a crown of shimmering radiance about her head. She smiled, and glaciers could have melted just as bonfires could have frozen before that smile.
“A good day to you, my aunt.” The crystalline voice of Flurry Heart brought a thunderous applause from the paper crowd.
Had she dozed off? An accursedly frigid wind was blowing over her, and frost was already covering her limbs.
She closed her eyes.
No she hadn’t dozed off. She couldn’t. This was… something else.
She opened her eyes. It was day. Yes, perhaps… perhaps…
She closed her eyes. It was night.
The mountain loomed over the lands of Equestria. She could see them clearly, vast green pastures and endless plains, a landscape of rolling hills dotted with brightly illuminated towns and dirt roads crisscrossing like the paths of so many ants around carrion. Thanks to the technomagical advancements of the last centuries, zeppelins had proliferated, and she could see them lazily going about like gigantic flying whales. Would they see her if she waved to them? She thought not. On this mountain, eclipsed by stone and the ever-present frost of the North, she was as insignificant as a fly on a particularly dull-coloured wall.
The road was long. The snow melted under her hooves. Higher. She must reach the top. That was all she knew. That was all she could think of. Reach the top. Reach the Place. Find the Question. Escape the pain. The sun blazed over the mountain, burning her eyes, making her coat feel like it was on fire. Higher. Higher. There was a snowstorm coming, blowing from the North. It would be upon her. It couldn’t. But it would. It hated her. Faster. Higher. Already the wind carried the cruel laughter of snow on its wings, already she felt her limbs numb. How could a snowstorm hate? How could a snowstorm hate her? Why did a snowstorm hate her?
She hates me. She hates me and has come to take everything from me. The end has come.
Stone scraped underhoof as she struggled to her limbs. Why? Why had it gone down that road? She just wanted to be alone. She just wanted to be alone. Stone scraped. Her hooves slipped on the ice. She couldn’t get up. Snow loomed overhead.
Mist wreathed the mountain and she batted it away with a spell. So many ponies claimed to get lost in mists. Foolishness. A little magic, and nothing as insignificant as water vapour could stand in the way. Perhaps that was a good representation of how useless and meaningless they all were, to be stopped by a patch of mist. Least she could do for them is light their path, make sure they don’t get lost. Lost in the snowstorm. Faster. Higher.
What if I am lost myself? Shall I be a blind guiding light?
Night. Why was the night so long? The moon seemed to judge her silently, a pale reflection of the sun. A reminder. She hated the moon. She loved the moon. So calm, quiet, distant, yet always there. She hated it. She loved it. Relaxing nights, reading books. Crushing despair. The night fell on Equestria. Good night, I failed you yet another day. It is time to hide. Fireflies surrounding her, a loving brother pointing them out to her — no no no no forget it forget it no hide it hide it not realnotrealnotrealnotreal
The peak? A memory faded. Pain faded.
Mist surrounded her. She couldn’t see. She closed her eyes.
She opened her eyes.
The mountain loomed over the lands of Equestria. She could see them clearly, vast green pastures and endless plains, a landscape of rolling hills dotted with brightly illuminated towns and dirt roads crisscrossing like the paths of so many ants around carrion. Thanks to the technomagical advancements of the last centuries, zeppelins had proliferated, and she could see them lazily going about like gigantic flying whales. Would they see her if she waved to them? She thought not. On this mountain, eclipsed by stone and the ever-present frost of the North, she was as insignificant as a fly on a particularly dull-coloured wall.
She stood on a ledge on the side of the mountain, blessedly protected from the worst of the winds. The land — her land — was beauty surrounded by dullness. Badlands, dragonlands, the grey of the fog-shrouded sea, the mountains surrounding everything, and in the middle, Equestria, a splatter of colour, a dash of life amidst the ruins of the world. For millennia, elements had scoured the surrounding lands with heat or frost. Only Equestria had escaped and remained to this day the jewel of the world. She looked upon it, a pleasant warmth blossoming inside her chest. They had taken such good care of their land, her little ponies. She could be proud of them. If they could keep a land saturated in magic free of problems, and as lush and fertile as it was, did they even need her to lead them?
Remember the sun, a voice in her head seemed to be whispering to her. But night had fallen. The sun was gone. Good night, Equestria. Standing on that mountain, with the land spreading below her, it seemed as if the sun had long been nothing more than a lie she’d told herself. But she knew what she had seen. She could still picture it in her mind’s eye. The sun, ruling over Equestria. The sun, blazing freely across the land. The sun, guiding, protecting.
No, not the sun. Something else. White and gold. Wings and soft feathers and white and gold. Blazing heat. Disappointment. White and gold and the sun always together. White and gold and the sun blazing and scorching.
A frost wind blew. The images disappeared. Snow fell around her, twinkling in the moonlight, like little crystal chips floating down from the heavens. They blazed with deathly cold whenever they touched her. She tried pushing through the storm, tried ascending toward the top, but her limbs started burning, the snow sapping her strength and replacing the warmth that had propelled her earlier by a bitter emptiness that made her want to curl up on the side of the road, like so many other frozen bodies. But something in her refused to cave in. For long minutes she pressed on, one hoof at a time, as the snow fell and covered more and more of the ground. It reached her ankles, her knees, almost her withers. Her head. It pushed inside her soul, whispering at her as she screamed silently. Faster… Higher… The snow clawed at her with fingers of ice, cruelly scraping away at her soul. The sun screamed and died. The wind whipped her bones raw. Something seized her, cracked her body and left her to flop uselessly on the mountain. She wasn’t strong enough. The snow was so soft, so harmless, but every step took more energy, more strength that she could muster. She struggled in its powdery grasp.
She huddled inside a cave in the wall of the mountain. Snow fell outside, a shimmering curtain of frost and death just beyond reach. She’d been so close, so close. Why had that snowstorm suddenly arrived to ruin everything? She closed her eyes. Snowflakes twinkled in her mind as she fell asleep to the sound of the wind.
Tea and crumpets. This soon in the morning. She had barely raised the sun, barely taken the time to appreciate her work before being pulled into a nightmare with tea and crumpets. Flurry Heart silently sipped her tea in front of her, taking her time, like she was mocking her. Twilight was cold. Cold and empty, like the dead of space.
She sipped her tea. She’d rather have had coffee. Coffee made her feel good. Coffee took away that pounding headache she had every morning. Coffee allowed her not to think about things she did not want to think about.
“Auntie—“
Twilight must have glared at her, for Flurry stopped in her tracks, smiled wanly, and took a sip of tea before continuing. “—Princess Twilight, it’s good to finally be able to see you. It’s been what, almost five hundred years now since I’ve seen you last?”
“Why are you here?” Twilight stared at her tea, pointedly avoiding Flurry Heart’s gaze. There was a cold anger inside her, threatening to start boiling over at a moment’s notice.
She’d rather her aides did not have to witness that.
“I am here, as I said, on a diplomatic visit.” Flurry Heart sipped her tea. Somehow, she managed to make the small dainty sip sound like a ringing bell in Twilight’s ears. “I am also here to visit a family member that has, for all I can tell, decided to remove me entirely from her life.”
“When something causes a patient pain,” Twilight said, “the first step to recovery is to remove the object causing pain.”
Flurry didn’t show any sign of even having heard her, and sipped at her tea with infuriating grace. She bowed her head to the servant who refilled her cup, and her small silver spoon traced an elegant arc in the air before stirring the tea in such a way that it actually made the steam from the hot beverage take the form of a trail of small hearts fading into the air. The display brought some hushed whispers of amazement from the nearby servants. She had to stop herself from openly sneering. Simpletons, awed by the simplest display of royalty. She mostly stopped herself because the relations between Equestria and the Crystal Empire were tense lately, due in no small part to her continually ignoring the small city-state. She had enough decorum not to cause a diplomatic incident because of her displeasure. Besides, Noble Duty was watching from the corner, silently scribbling in her notepad and scratching her head with her pen. Twilight would get a talking to if she wasn’t on her best behaviour. She idly wondered how Noble Duty took notes despite her blindness, but she must have simply had so much practice it was as natural as breathing to her.
“I trust you’ve been doing well?” Flurry Heart wiped the little spoon on a napkin and set it back on her saucer, never breaking eye contact with Twilight. “Equestria’s golden age has been the talk of the world for some time. It’s good to see your health has improved. After the first fifty years of isolation, I thought you had contracted an incurable debilitating illness and that you would step down from the throne, but it seems my fears have been unfounded, and you are well on your way to become one of the most acclaimed monarchs of this land.”
Twilight felt herself redden. It was true, she had often lied and feigned illness to avoid visiting the Crystal Empire herself, and avoid meeting with its envoys. To see Flurry Heart call her out so callously on it though… then again, ironically, the brat had no heart. How could she simply go about like nothing ever happened while… Sparks ran over Twilight’s cup and the tea started bubbling dangerously inside. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath. In… Out… Calm down. Calm down. The bubbling receded. When she opened her eyes, Flurry Heart had an eyebrow raised at her. She took a sip of tea, gestured for a servant to refill her cup again. Twilight had barely touched hers. “You didn’t really believe that. We’re alicorns. We can hardly ever get sick except if we strain ourselves past our limits.”
“Indeed.” Flurry Heart let out a hearty laugh. “Hence why I thought you had contracted an incurable, debilitating illness.”
“I know my limits.”
“Clearly not.” Flurry Heart looked at her in disapproval. “I’ve heard of the things you do. Ponies here are… eager to talk about how worried they are for you.” She looked away, idly stirring her new cup of tea. “I was particularly surprised by the maids telling me they always take back your plates to the kitchen half-finished, except your morning pancakes. What happened to the Twilight who would take me to visit the local burger joints and empty their reserves because she was so hungry from all the work she was doing? From what I’ve heard, you’ve been pushing yourself even harder, and you eat just a fraction of what you used to eat. How can you do that? I know how much alicorns need to eat.”
“I’m simply not very hungry these days.”
“These last few hundred years?”
Twilight looked away. Her entire body ached. Stars, she needed to get away from here. What was she even doing entertaining Flurry Heart’s stupid fancies in the first place? “Maybe I’m trying to be careful about my weight,” she said with more bitterness than she intended. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. Not for somepony who clearly did not care about anything important herself. How the Crystal Empire had not yet fallen with an unfeeling brat at its head was a mystery to her. “Or maybe some alicorns don’t need to eat that much in order to function properly. Maybe I’m taking it easy, trying to see if the easy princess life is better than working hard. We both know I wouldn’t be the first one to test that theory.”
Flurry Heart stiffened. “You don’t mean that.”
“What if I do?” She tasted bile. “Did you know how hard I had to work to be taken seriously? I was a nobody, ponies didn’t even want to acknowledge me as their princess at first. I gained their trust and respect because I made them happy, because I took care of their problems. Because I cared. I wish I had been lucky enough to be the long lost daughter of some queen who everypony worshiped as soon as she stepped on the throne.” Her teacup cracked between her hooves. “And even then it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Even now it’s not enough. There’s always more to do, there’s always more to… Maybe I just decided to take a page out of her book and spend my days attending tea parties and looking pretty.” She hissed. “It worked for her, hadn’t it?”
Flurry Heart’s voice grew cold. “The Crystal Empire needed a figurehead more than it needed yet another functionary. Spearheading diplomatic relationships with other countries, drudging back a long-lost history and making its children fit with the modern era was more important than drafting a slightly different administrative document every day. You haven’t seen how much it weighed on her to be a strange pony from another time needing to guide traditionalist strangers into the modern age.”
“She was all but prophesied to lead the Crystal Ponies. They would have followed her off the ledge of a cliff if she’d told them it was what was good for them. All that work you talked about, that could have been accomplished by a pretty statue. While she was pretty sitting on her throne and batting her eyelashes, somepony else did all the work. Who spent his youth patrolling dangerous wilderness? Who came close to death time and time again keeping the borders safe? But no one remembers. No one cares about him. It was always about the precious little princess.”
“Are you still bitter about that?!” Flurry Heart slammed her hooves on the table, and every servant in the room hurried away from the two royals. Doors slammed as they deserted the area. Noble Duty kept watching, her quill scratching away. “He loved her! He chose her!”
“He did all the work!”
“Just because she wasn’t going around kicking monsters or working herself sick doesn’t mean you get to speak about her that way! What’s wrong with you?” Flurry Heart’s teacup had stopped steaming. Frostbite was making its way up her hooves and down on the table’s varnished wood.
“I’d rather work myself to death to serve my people than sit around looking pretty,” Twilight snapped. “What’s the point of immortality, of being an alicorn, of being a princess, if I don’t use it to help? Why should I sit on my flank like a lifeless doll, basking in the glory of the throne while others risk everything for my sake?” She closed her eyes. Gold and white. The entirety of Equestria resting on her shoulders. Strong like a monolithic fortress. Twilight herself wasn’t strong enough. How dared that prissy princess pretend like she had been handling nearly that same pressure?
Flurry Heart stayed silent for a long moment. “So, that’s how you saw her? That’s really how you saw her?” The look on her face was one of utter shock and confusion. “For almost a hundred years you two were so close. You were… you are family. The best family I’ve ever had. Or at least I thought…” She gritted her teeth. “Was that all an act? Did you really hate us like that?”
Hot tea was dripping on Twilight’s thighs. Her cup had long since shattered, a puddle of scalding liquid dripping off the table’s edge. “You were the best family I had… until you weren’t. And when push came to shove, she chose the easy way. She left me behind. That put things in perspective for me.” She looked away, through the window. The sun shone bright today. Its light was warm. Searing. “They all left me behind.”
Flurry Heart took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright then. I can see this is going nowhere for now.” She rose, and nodded to the servant picking up her cup. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You—“
“While I’m here,” Flurry Heart said, removing a scroll case from somewhere under her fine silken cloak, “I might as well pass some new agreements I drafted to your ministers. Hopefully this will smooth out the relation between our realms.”
“‘While I’m here’?” Twilight scowled at her. “This was never a diplomatic visit in the first place, was it?”
“I never pretended it was.” Flurry Heart looked at her flatly as she rose, and her horn shone briefly as her magic smoothed out her cloak. “I know you’re too smart to fool, auntie. This is me trying to help you. Despite everything, this is what I need to do. This is what I know I need to do, even if you— . I’m sorry you felt so insulted by somepony trying to help you that you felt you had to—“ She bit her lower lip and looked away. “I’ll be in my rooms. If you’ll excuse me, Princess.”
She tossed her mane and walked out, trailed by her attendants. Twilight wanted to scream at her to leave and never come back, but something held her back.
Her niece’s perfect composure at cracked if only briefly, and in that moment, Twilight had seen herself.
Snow fell outside. Inside the cave, it was bone-chillingly cold. It was as warm as the mountain could be. Snow blanketed the stone outside, an eye-searing white as peaceful as cotton.
Formless and mindless, tucked away and forgotten.
There was no joy, no courage, no desire. Only the snow. Twilight stirred in her cloak, trying to ignore the voices. Coffee. She needed coffee. So, so tired…
How has it come to this?
The light of day shone dully against the snow. Clouds covered the sky. Grey. Lifeless. The glorious sun was nowhere to be seen. The snow had chased it away, brought back the frost and the clawing ice that ate away at her mind. Her hooves trailed ditches in the snow behind her. The cold bit at her through her tattered cloak. Her mane hung heavy with ice. Snow. Snow. Snow. Nothing but snow. And the voices.
You keep us prisoner here, but we are not the ones who are imprisoned.
Darkness below her. The mountain cut abruptly into a sheer-faced cliff plunging far below the fog. She swayed on her hooves. Snowflakes fell gracefully down the abyss, carried on the wind.
Twilight.
The wind whispered around her. She took a step, and fell into the darkness.
We love you.
Twilight jerked upright and gasped. A cave. Cold. The snow outside. She held her head between her hooves and groaned. Had she dozed off? She remembered a cliff and… voices? Everything was blurry. She gathered her things and set her sights outside. The peak was barely visible through the fog. Just a little more and she would be there. Light was shining through. Day. She blinked, her limbs heavy with fatigue. Stars but she needed coffee. The fog came thickly about her, obscuring the way. She knew where she needed to go.
Her hooves trailed ditches in the snow behind her. Bodies made uneven piles against the walls of the mountain trail. Did she know them? She tried making the sun blaze harder, raising it higher so it could burn through the fog, but she wasn’t strong enough.
She never had been. And thus the fog remained.
The blaze that had burned inside her was long gone. In its place, she could only feel the cold presence of the diary inside her saddlebag, and the snow, everywhere around her, pressing against her. The warm hatred that had kept her moving had been replaced by an icy pit in her stomach, like the moment when you realize you broke a priceless vase, or a long-held trust. She had been able to make herself believe she had been going toward her goal with a self-righteous step, a knowledge that her anger had been justified.
Now, fear had strangled that self-righteousness. The snow had come to claim her, and she was walking towards her last blizzard.
“Noble Duty, I need you,” she whispered. “What do I do?”
Her plea went unanswered. She could only stare ahead. A forested path and a long staircase cut into the mountain and leading upward, and above, a large stone structure sitting on the very top of the mountain.
It was time to go.
She could only stare ahead. A forested path and a long staircase cut into the mountain and leading upward, and above, a large stone structure sitting on the very top of the mountain.
Darkness below her. A staircase and a forest. A path.
It was time to go.
She stepped forward. Snow crunched beneath her hooves. Trees around her. A forested path. Ahead, a long staircase cut into the mountain and leading upward, and above…
Above…
It was time to go.
Below her, darkness. Inky. Thick. Everywhere. It seeped through the stone. It dug through her skin. When she breathed, the air was thick with it.
It was time to go.
Faces in the murk. Smiling. Why did they look at her with smiles? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. They weren’t there. They couldn’t smile. They couldn’t smile but why were they looking at her smiling? Why?
The diary was ice against her heart. Why did they smile? How dared they? Why were they here? She had banished them, buried them, crushed their memory so she didn’t have to suffer. Why? Why?
Twilight, please don’t go.
It was time to go.
We love you.
Lies.
We love you.
LIES.
Twilight, we love you.
She wanted to hate them. Where was her hate? Why was she so cold?
Fog. The stairs. The darkness pressing in.
It was time to go.
A snowstorm and a path and forests and lakes and suns and moons. The sun rose, the moon rose, the world turned, and Equestria turned and everything was right.
A scared filly, crying and lost. Twilight took a deep breath and didn't look at her. A filly tall as a mountain. A filly strong as the stones. A filly brittle as clay. A filly weeping her loss, surrounded by swirling fog.
Above…
Above…
Twilight…
Blazing and searing and blazing and searing and blazing and searing and gold and white and gold and white and gold and white and gold andwhiteandgoldandwhiteandgoldanddontlookdontlookdontlook
I love you.
It was time to go.
Chapter 16 - Winter Frost Against A False Summer Sun
Princess Twilight Sparkle did not attend court that day. It was the very first time in six hundred years of reign that she had kept the doors to the throne room closed. The message needed to be clear. Princess Flurry Heart of the Crystal Empire was an intruder, and her presence upset the entirety of Equestria.
Moreover, she was just so, so tired.
Even as she ate the best pancakes of her best chef, she felt as if she didn't belong there. She felt the eyes of her staff, the hushed whispers and accusations. They knew. They knew. Flurry Heart unexpectedly showing up and disrupting court had shown them that… that… she didn't know what it had showed them exactly but it had showed them something. And she wasn't welcome here anymore. Flurry Heart was so much better. So much grace and poise and elegance, the princess of a kingdom that had returned from its apparent death and now blossomed. Who was Twilight Sparkle? The one who inherited the throne of a stable and prosperous country through the whims of—
Twilight blanked out, coffee cup hanging still against her lips. How had she ascended to the throne anyway? She'd always been there. Always guided her little ponies. She'd done so for six hundred years now. Her memory was a bit blurry, that was all. She shook her head. Why was she so stressed out anyway? This changed nothing. She would hear what that silly princess had to say and send her back, like she did many diplomats before.
But why did the idea of talking to her make her feel so cold?
“Is everything alright, Princess?” One of her servants asked in a hesitant voice. Twilight started. She'd had a piece of pancake hanging on a fork right next to her mouth for several minutes.
“Everything is fine. Thank you.” She ate the rest of the pancake and left the remaining one in the plate. She pushed it away. “I'm not hungry anymore, thank you.”
The servant gave her a strange look. Was that… pity? No she must have been imagining things. He collected her plate and walked back to the kitchen. She downed her third cup of coffee. Raising the sun always made her so tired. Guilt stabbed at her. Why couldn't she just be good at her job? Why couldn't she just raise the sun effortlessly like… like… like somepony who could raise the sun effortlessly? It was stupid. It was so stupid. She was raising the sun for pony sake! It was a monumental task that she alone could accomplish. That alone should have made her feel good about herself.
Yet… what if she lacked the strength someday? What if she tried pulling the sun up and it refused to answer? She often felt it try to slip away from the delicate magic she wove around it. If that happened… then everypony would know how useless she was. Twilight Sparkle, unable to accomplish the task every creature in the world depended on. Twilight Sparkle, failure of a princess.
There is a secret to it. There is a secret to the sun, to the meetings, to the documents. It lies in the white and gold hidden within the castle I know it I know it I know it.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle?”
Noble Duty laid a hoof on her shoulder. It was six o'clock. It was time to hold court.
There was a chill to the air of the court today. The paper crowd sat and traded hushed whispers, huddling together like hikers lost on a cold night trying to keep themselves warm. Petitions and requests were muted, uneasy. At the eye of the chill that bore down on the ponies of Canterlot, a conspicuous delegation made sure to make themselves seen. Princess Flurry Heart sat to the side, her crystal horn glistening in the light filtering through the blurred stained glass windows of the Canterlot court. Attendants surrounded her, a hoofful of crystal ponies, polished mineral coat standing out amongst the fur of the Equestrians. The attention of the court, which was usually solidly on Princess Twilight Sparkle, Benevolent Ruler Of Equestria, had been drawn to the representatives of the Crystal Empire as easily as a foal could be distracted by candy. It didn't matter what happened in front of the throne, the paper crowd was taken in by the unwanted visitors.
Twilight was restless on her throne. She knew what game Flurry Heart was playing. She was here to undermine her, to attack her by hurting her personally, and then showing her court that there was another, better princess that could lead them, one who wouldn't fail them like Princess Twilight Sparkle would. Somepony who could sit on the throne and look pretty like a perfect princess. Meanwhile, she could draft any trade agreement and treaties she wanted, syphoning Equestria's resources into her own little kingdom until the proud pony nation fell under its own weight. Even as she rose a hoof to silence the court, and the paper crowd settled quietly, their eyes on her, she knew. She knew that they were just waiting for their chance to pounce on her and rip her off the throne. They knew she didn't belong. She knew she didn't belong.
The throne is purple why is it purple there used to be an other throne and it was golden and beautiful and there she was the white and gold oh stars why am I here I don't belong here stopstopstopstop.
Jitters and cold sweats. Coffee, she needed coffee. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Breathed out. It helped a little bit. It helped out a lot, actually. Breathe in. Breathe out. She felt her heart settle down. Why had she never tried this? It was a good trick to stay calm. She opened her eyes, narrowing her gaze on the innocent-looking Crystal Princess. Had Flurry Heart inspired her to do this? Somehow?
What are you hiding?
She did belong on the throne. No you don't. She did belong on the throne. As long as her little ponies needed her. They needed her. She would be there for them. Stop lying to yourself you useless hypocrite. Her ponies needed her. Her ponies needed her.
Twilight needed to nip Flurry Heart's plan in the bud, before she succeeded in turning everypony against her. They were so frail and small and stupid. She needed to protect them.
She needed to catch Flurry Heart in her own trap. Yes, this was the way to go.
“Princess Flurry Heart,” Princess Twilight said with a fake smile, “how rude of me to ignore you when you gave us the honour of having you in our court.”
Whispers increased in volume around her. Princess Flurry Heart rose an eyebrow at her.
“As diplomatic envoy of the Crystal Empire, I'm sure you're burning with a desire to share those new, phenomenal treaties and agreements you spoke of yesterday.” Princess Twilight's smile widened as Flurry Heart frowned. “Why don't you share them to the court right now?”
Princess Flurry Heart looked uneasily around herself. That was it, as easy as pie. She hadn't truly come here to discuss politics and relations. And now she'd been caught in her own game. She'd have to expose the lies and backstabbing that were sure to be hidden within the agreements she'd proposed.
Yes, it was obvious. Twilight had expertly maneuvered Flurry Heart in a position she could not escape, how—
“With pleasure, Princess Twilight.” She bowed lightly and gestured to one of her attendants, who procured a rolled parchment. She undid it and cleared her throat as she walked in front of the throne, in the centre of the court. Twilight frowned. Where was the sweating, the nervous backpedaling? “Fillies and gentlecolts, what Princess Twilight says is true. We in the Crystal Empire have worried at the degrading relations between the Crystal Empire and Equestria, and thus, I have gathered the best minds in the Empire in order to try and make better arrangements for the both of our nations.”
What came next stunned Princess Twilight even more than she imagined it would. The Crystal Empire had discovered new magic-conducting minerals. They were willing to trade with Equestria at ridiculously generous rates. Researchers had dug up old territorial disputes between the nations. They were willing to fully return the lands and the mines that were in them. The Crystalians were ready to heavily finance and supplement the military forces patrolling the borders between Northern Equestria and the lands beyond. On and on the suggestions and deals poured forth from Princess Flurry Heart. She thought the Crystal Empire would have developed a solid hatred for Equestria with how she’d been neglecting them. But Flurry Heart spoke of how the Crystalians were scared of losing Equestria’s friendship, how they remembered how Twilight had liberated their city long, long ago. What Princess Twilight had expected had been completely reversed.
There were no cutthroat dealings in play. If anything, the Crystal Empire was willing to become even more subservient to Equestria.
“Our nations have always been strong allies, even historically, before our revival,” Flurry Heart said, turning to Twilight and genuflecting. “More than ever, however, we depend on Equestria for our wellbeing. The Crystal Empire is rich in minerals, and our ponyfolk is a fine one indeed, but without the food we trade in from Equestria, we would starve, and without her protection, we would be left at the mercies of the… forces harrying us.” She looked up at Twilight, eyes glistening. “And I hope this can bring us— our nations closer together.”
When Twilight left the court, the paper crowd was still cheering Flurry Heart on.
“Forgive me for asking, Princess, but what was that for?” Noble Duty stood to Twilight's side, unflinching.
“I thought I'd expose her for the liar she was. I thought she would… she would…” It was all so clear in Twilight's head, how Flurry Heart was going to manipulate them all into causing troubles and blaming Twilight for them, and eventually cast Equestria down in flames. But she couldn't express it. She just… she just knew. Or did she? Now, it seemed like a fleeting fantasy and she could barely remember why she'd thought so in the first place.
“Well they love her even more than before.” Noble Duty sighed. “Princess Twilight, I know things have been hard but… I think she genuinely came here to try and build up the ties between our nations. Cooperate with her.”
It was with confusion and uncertainty that Twilight rose the moon.
Twilight Sparkle raised the moon, and, instead of going to her chambers, like she had done every night for six hundred years, headed to the western wing of the castle. Her hoofsteps rang in the hollow halls. There were no servants. Perhaps they had sensed the storm approaching, and had decided to get out of the way.
A wise decision.
A tempest swirled inside her. Flurry Heart hadn’t lied. Flurry Heart hadn’t looked like she had been lying. Everything in her rebelled at the idea. The mere thought that all along, she had been wrong to ignore her as she did, that all along, her niece had truly wanted the best, the mere idea buffeted her mind, leaving her raw and pained.
She will not have this. I will not have this. This is not happening. I know something is wrong something is always wrong she wants me gone she wants me gone she wants me gone.
Her head throbbed with a deep aching as the thoughts fought inside her like electrical interference trying to fry her synapses. She squeezed her eyes shut and trudged ahead, wanting all this to be over before she was hit with a migraine.
Twilight forced herself to stop in front of the large guest room where somepony had ostensibly hung a pastel drawing of a winged heart. Now, the proper way to enter would be to politely knock on the door and announce herself. The improper way would have been to bang on the door and yell at Flurry Heart to come out at once.
So Twilight forced the door open with a slam of her magic and barged inside Flurry Heart's room. The sole occupant barely held back a yelp as Twilight slammed the door behind herself, but Flurry Heart skillfully regained her poise and nonchalantly flipped her hairbrush out of her mane, making her tiara spin back into place around her horn at the same time. Did she have to do everything with such an infuriating amount of poise and grace?
“Twilight, it's… good to see you.” She coughed. “I'm not used to Canterlot customs, but in the Crystal Empire, walking uninvited in somepony's room like this is… rude.”
“And barging into my castle without a proper invitation is not rude?” Twilight scowled, heat rising from her chest already. Just seeing that picture-perfect princess trying to tell her what to do… “I'm here to demand explanations!”
“First of all, Twilight—”
“Princess Twilight.” Twilight said icily.
“—Princess Twilight,” Flurry Heart corrected herself, “I do have an invitation.”
Twilight laughed mirthlessly. “You do, do you? Lies! I require every formal invitation to foreign diplomats to be signed by my hoof, and I know for certain that I have never, and will never sign an invitation to anyone from the Crystal Empire.”
Flurry Heart looked away, and Twilight's cruel laughter died down in her throat. The look of hurt in Flurry Heart's eyes was like seeing the last day of summer vanish and give way to a cold and lonely winter. Flurry turned her back on her and walked to a large chest that had been pushed to the base of the plump bed that occupied most of the room. Out came robes, scrolls, cases, and finally, a small wooden box delicately engraved with her name and runes. She opened it, revealing a short feather, a few small teeth, some foalish drawings, and at the very bottom, a faded envelope. “This is my memento box,” she explained calmly, as if she didn't have an irate princess in front of her. “I keep all my most precious memories here. This is my first feather I lost. Those are my baby teeth. This here is a drawing from my very first friend, Sapphire Polish. And this…” She lifted off the envelope and opened it, and in a voice as soft as a breeze, started to read.
“Dear Flurry Heart,
When I learnt you were going to come into our lives, I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I was going to be an aunt. An aunt! I couldn't stop thinking about all the presents I'd spoil you with, all the trips we'd take together, all the adventures we could live as I showed you Equestria. Spike (you're probably going to be calling him Uncle Spike) finally managed to calm me down, but I still need to write you this letter.
You are going to be part of our family and that is something very special. You aren't even born yet but I already love you so much. I hope you won't find your aunt to be a boring old bookworm although I do strongly recommend you to be well-read as knowledge is the most wonderful thing one can possess!
Nevertheless, I know things will be hard for you, as you will be the daughter of royalty, and I know how busy Cadence and Shining Armour can be. And life in general is something that you might need someone, or lots of someones rather, to help you get through the rough patches and see the good things around you. It's not much, but I want you to know that my door will always be open to you, and you will always be welcomed with open hooves.
With love,
Your auntie Twilight.”
Flurry Heart turned the letter over to Twilight. The paper was dry and cracked, patched everywhere with tape to hold it together. Flurry Heart sniffled and quickly wiped tears away from her eyes. “I have read this letter more times than any other letter or book I own. At first because… because well, you were the best aunt a filly could ask for. All you promised me you gave me. Remember that time you showed me the Badlands and a dragon almost ate me alive? I couldn't stop talking about how amazing you were when you fought it off at school, I even caught one of my classmates trying to sneak into the train with me when I visited you the next month. And then… And then I read it even more when Dad died. And when Mom died. And I was alone. All I had left was you but… you were so, so sad and so hurt… you wanted to be left alone. And I left you alone. Because I loved you. Because I still love you. For centuries I haven't been brave enough to come see you, and when I heard what you had become I… I still don't know how to approach you.”
Twilight’s mouth opened and closed mechanically as her brain tried forcing words out of her. But nothing came. What was there to say? At that moment the world seemed a smudge on the back of her mind. Flurry Heart, the ice-cold queen of the Crystal Empire, was but a shadow. In front of her was a smiling filly, prancing about with her stuffed toys. Watching her was a familiar lavender alicorn. Who was she? She was smiling. She was happy. She promised Flurry Heart to always be there for her.
Who was she?
“Twi— Princess Twilight, are you alright?”
She was not alright. There was a light, a searingSEARING burningBURNING pain like molten goldandwhitedon’tforgetthewhitethegoldiswhiteshealwayswasohstarswhereissheIneedyouIneedyouIneedyou trying to claw its way out of her chest. Her vision blurred.
“I can’t… I’m not…” She stumbled backwards, through the door. “I’m…”
Sorry?
Something was wrong, something was very, very, very wrong.
Flurry Heart’s cries became distant in her ears as she fled. No, she didn’t flee. Something drew her. A distant memory sunk into her mind.
The stained glass windows of the throne room had manifested a fault so many years ago, Twilight had forgotten how they looked like. But it was normal, and nopony had said anything about it, and so they remained darkened from within, covered in a web of darkness.
Now, one of them glimmered with the moonlight, brilliant and vibrantly coloured, like it had never suffered any damage. A pastel-pink mare, standing proud under a crystal heart, her soft and gentle smile so, so familiar.
Cadence. Shining Armour.
The names exploded in Twilight’s mind, bringing her down to her knees with a scream.
Cadence. Shining Armour.
Memories forced themselves into her mind. Days of sunshine and rainbows, foalhoods spent with the two best ponies she’d known, full of love, joy, care. The brief warmth the memories brought her vanished under the sheer cold of realisation.
She didn’t have a brother. It wasn’t allowed. She was and had always been Princess of Equestria, and she had no brother. She had no friends. She had no one. The paper ponies lived and died in a breath’s length. She couldn’t have anyone.
She could barely handle Flurry Heart. She needed to keep her niece at hoof’s length, not get close to her. Just in case. She couldn’t have anyone. It was too painful. And so it couldn’t be.
She knew she hated the old princess of the Crystal Empire. She knew she had loved the old prince of the Crystal Empire. But could it be?
Had they been family?
Of course they were family Flurry Heart is your niece your niece by the stars Twilight wake up nononono bury it BURY IT!
“Twilight!” Hoofsteps on the carpet. Crystal tiara catching the light. “Twilight, I heard you scream. Are you—” Flurry Heart’s gaze went to her mother’s window. “Twilight, I’m so sorry.”
“What have you done to me?”
“Done?”
“I remember things that don’t exist.” She had to force her voice out, a hoarse whisper that sapped all her remaining strength. The window shone bright like a bonfire threatening to consume her. “Who is Sh-Sh-Shining Armour? Why do I know him? What have you done? Answer me!”
Flurry Heart’s face fell, and the terror Twilight saw on it told her she wasn’t getting anything out of Flurry Heart. Not tonight. She stepped towards her niece. My niece, what does that mean? Why is she my niece? She is just another princess, I do not know her.
Yes you do.
No I don’t. Bile rose inside her. She didn’t know what she wanted from her, but she wanted something. Answers, questions, anything.
Flurry Heart stepped back. “Twilight, please, I think something is very wrong with you.”
“There was nothing wrong with me,” she whispered. “Not until you came here.”
Heat boiled up inside her. Hurt, frustration, confusion. There was just too much to deal with. Why couldn’t things just be simple? Why couldn’t pain just leave her alone? What was she doing wrong? She was the most powerful pony in Equestria, and she still couldn’t stop hurting. What was missing? What was missing?
Something needs to be done.
Flurry Heart’s face was suddenly bathed in a livid purple light. Flurry Heart didn’t move. She stared at Princess Twilight’s horn in disbelief. “This isn’t real.” Her voice shook. “This is a nightmare, isn’t it? You can’t be… I’m dreaming.”
“It is a nightmare.” Princess Twilight’s horn flared with light and pain. “I just want it to go away.”
“TWILIGHT SPARKLE!”
Twilight froze. Her ears rang. The throne room went dark. Hoofsteps. Then, Noble Duty’s hoof, gentle on her shoulder. “Princess. Please. I looked away for just a second and you were gone. Let’s get you to bed.”
Twilight let out a shaky breath. Her legs quivered. “Noble Duty? I need to…”
There was something I needed to do. Something to leave this nightmare. What was it?
There was somepony else here. The princess of the Crystal Empire. Annoying little twit. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost. There was a blinding light behind her, coming from one of the stained glass window, but Twilight couldn’t make it out. Flurry Heart cast too long a shadow.
Twilight shook her head, regretting it immediately, as lances of pain stabbed her brain. Tired. So tired. So she turned and walked out of the throne room, the weight of the years crashing down on her. So, so tired. Maybe the kitchen would have some coffee left. She couldn’t afford to be weak. She needed coffee, and sleep. Twilight Sparkle was done for tonight. Princess Twilight would rise with the sun come morning, and everything would be alright. Like it always was.
The door closed behind her. On her desk was a broken brass clock. She glanced at it, and went to bed.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Twilight froze. The brass clock pointed to 17. When had it started working again?
