Jovia

Princess Celestia, Acting Ruler of Avalock, sat down in her private chamber, summoned a parchment to her bedside table, and concentrated. The quill rose under the golden glow of her horn and began writing.

Dearest Mother,

It has been a strange week for me. Luna has taken your departure extremely hard. I have tried to comfort her as best I can by reminding her that you always return after a few centuries. She merely says that you always say that, and that last time you took an entire millennium. I hope you come back soon. It breaks my heart to see Luna so upset like this, and she really needs something to keep her mind off things, especially since she will soon be fully mature.

Young Celestia paused, stared out of the window – a stained glass masterpiece that loomed over the four poster – and concentrated even harder. On her command, the moon descended below the horizon outside.

Now she had to wait. She looked back at the paper again, chewing her lip.

I wish for your advice on how to talk to her.

She frowned, and hastily crossed out the line she'd just written. It wasn't that bad, now, was it? She'd figure something out. She continued writing.

I am not sure I have enough experience to bear the burden of royalty so soon, though I cannot deny I am enjoying the dinners with Princess Platinum. She has certainly mellowed since the incident with the windigos. Her associate, Clover the Clever, will in turn make a fine heir to Star Swirl’s estate, and she has made for me a most wonderful collar. It is made of the finest unicorn gold and contains the Sapphire of Grace. Until now, I had only assumed it was an ancient unicorn legend, but then legends do have a peculiar habit of being almost always true…

The fog obscured the rest of the plains, so everypony around focused on the black coffin descending into the grave. A cloaked figure, burlap hood drawn up to obscure her face, stared as the last thump signalled the end of the descent.

Clover did not cry. There were some bonds too deep for crying to be enough, and her master had disapproved of showy emotions. He had been getting on for a bit, too. He himself used to make jokes about his arthritic pastern joints.

“I’ve already got one hoof in the grave," he used to say; "wouldn’t do to trip when I put the other hoof in, would it, eh?”

Around her, several leading figures paid their respects. There was Chancellor Puddinghead, leader of the earth ponies. She looked strangely subdued, despite the dark chocolate doughnut looped around her foreleg and the black forest gateau sitting on her head. Beside her, Smart Cookie removed her own - more sensible - hat and pressed it close to her heart.

On the podium overlooking them all, Princess Platinum declared her rage. Her anger at the turns of fate, and at the sorry end for a magician so unparalleled in the annals of history. Her outrage at the weather, at this common cemetery, at the way the field creatures of the open meadows did not fall into silence at the loss of their greatest defender. Her fury at the blasts of winter, for the chill they had brought to his heart for too many years. It should never have come to this. The speech began to dwindle, and spluttering replaced the flaming words until outrage lost its power, shrieks were accompanied by tears, and Princess Platinum collapsed under a flood of sobs.

On Clover’s other side, Private Pansy was squeaking. Clover saw, with a rush of fellow-feeling, the pony’s lips trembling with the effort of holding it in. Commander Hurricane, without looking away from the service at all, embraced the private with one foreleg. Facing the grave, the Commander's remaining limbs snapped to attention and she saluted. Behind her, the entire pegasus army did likewise.

She’s right, thought Clover, as the earth ponies carried their black balloons to the queue and, one by one, threw dark confetti over the grave. It should never have been like this.

Her view of the falling confetti blurred as her mind travelled back to the mountains and to the palace. Her thoughts filled up with the book's pages, and the words, and the hidden excitement she had felt reading them for the first time.

Had she been an earth pony, she would have searched the land far and wide, like her master had done at the beginning of his quest for wisdom. Had she been a pegasus, she would have flown around the world and back. Everything worth seeing in the mundane world, she would have seen. However, she was a unicorn. A unicorn with a skill for magic. Moreover, she was now a unicorn with a secret, which had once been shared between two.

When the last of the confetti had fallen and the black balloons had, as one, been released, Chancellor Puddinghead blew the official noisemaker and the earth ponies turned back for home. Commander Hurricane shouted an order and row after row of warriors took off in formation, back to their cloud city for the feast and for their traditional funeral bonfire.

Princess Platinum regained enough composure to get back up. She waved a hoof over her crown and signalled for the unicorn aristocracy to depart. Behind Clover, many of them began conversing, some – to her astonishment – on matters of fashion and taste not even related to Star Swirl. The Princess herself retired to her carriage, which the armoured unicorn troop began pulling.

As they ran parallel to the grave, they stopped next to Clover and the Princess’s horn glowed, lowering the window.

“I know you are upset, my dear Clover,” she proclaimed, “but you must let his secret go. This is not your fault. It was nopony’s fault.”

Clover did not look up for several moments. When she did, her mouth was open for the reply.

“No, Clover,” said the Princess, cutting her off. “Think rationally about it, like you always used to tell me to do. How can you possibly blame yourself? You weren’t even there.”

For the first time, the eyes of Clover the Clever began to glisten. “That’s precisely why.”

“Clover, I will have no more of this self-pity. I command you to return to Canterlot with me at once!”

“No, Your Majesty. I’ll walk back when I’m done.”

“How dare y–” The words were blocked by sealed lips, but not without effort. “Fine! But as Princess, I shall expect you to be present for the first meeting of the Equestrian government tomorrow morning.” She slammed the window shut and the carriage trundled on.

Clover watched them disappear into the fog. Out of the folds of her cloak, she produced a scrap of paper, torn and yellowing with age and as tough as papyrus. She flicked her eyes over the writing. Then she stared back at the grave, into which the earth was being shovelled by an old goat with a straw hat. Despite herself, she felt elated by his cheerful whistling.

Once he was done, he turned and trotted off for home. Minutes passed before Clover followed suit.

The Librarian of the recently completed Star Swirl University sat at her desk, idly leafing through a pamphlet for the latest Canterlot morality play. She’d heard two fellow unicorns chat enthusiastically about it behind the bookcases upstairs, but all the same she kept her copy below the desk while she read it.

Possibly because of this, she did not notice the hoof on the counter until someone hummed. She looked up and hastily dropped the pamphlet, pulling her chair forwards.

“Oh, er,” she said, smiling too broadly. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just checking the broadsheets, you know? Aheheh. Er, how may I help you, Miss Clover?”

“What was the last book Mr Star Swirl returned to you?” said Clover.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. How was the, uh, the funeral yesterday evening? Terrible, terrible, I know. He used to come in here all the time. Very punctual. Never missed a return date. Great pony, he was. Really great. Never really thought of him as the sort that could just… go, you know?” The Librarian prattled on nervously as she pulled out a drawer and pulled out length after length of long parchment. “Ah, here it is: Words and Wonders. Second edition. Very good condition. It’s still in, so, er, I presume you, er…”

“Yes, please,” said Clover. “I didn’t know you liked morality plays.”

“Curses,” muttered the Librarian under her breath. Aloud, she said: “Well, you know, these earth pony traditions. Quaint in their own way. Quite amusing. Right. It’s always worth being in the know and all, eh? Got to move with the times, as they say. Haven’t you?” She gave Clover a pleading look.

Behind Clover, a gathering of unicorn students at one of the reading tables snickered into their handkerchiefs.

“Of course,” Clover said, as loudly as she could get away with in the library. “I, for one, always like to learn about the fine traditions of our fellow ponies.”

“Why, exactly,” said the Librarian, wiping the relief off her forehead. The snickering stopped. A few of the better-groomed unicorns looked over their monocles and expensive high collars at her.

“And I would be very disappointed,” said Clover, deliberately not giving them a meaningful look, “at any pony who thought it was fashionable to ridicule anything to which the Princess chose to give her patronage.”

“Well, that too, that too,” said the Librarian. A few of the less unintelligent unicorns had remembered the master’s funeral, and had already worked through the mental arithmetic for Clover’s social status. It was a lot higher than theirs.

The Librarian passed a register over the desk, which Clover signed with the quill offered. Behind her, the group had adopted forced smiles and began chatting enthusiastically about the joys of the theatre and whatnot, and how lively the jolly old traditions of their earth pony neighbours were, what what?

“Well, thank you very much,” said Clover, passing the registration form back. The Librarian peered down at it.

“That’s odd. You’ve already filled in your leaving time.”

“I know,” said Clover, turning away.

“The closing time? But we’ve just opened!”

“I know. My master left some unfinished work. As his successor, I have to continue on his behalf.”

“I miss him, you know,” said the Librarian, wringing her pamphlet between her hooves. Clover paused halfway to the shelves. “I’m sorry he had to go.”

The former apprentice continued to stand in silence, and it was just as well that nopony could see her expression.

“I guess it’s just the way it has to be, eh?”

No, she thought, her mind throwing the word back at her ears like an echoing chamber, it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. I can prove it doesn’t.

Aloud, she said, “I know.” Then she walked on and was lost to the depths of the aisles.

It took Clover nine hours before she found the page she was looking for. It should have been easy. With the torn page lying next to her, she only had to locate the page with a chunk ripped out of it. But when her friend had said that the book was in good condition, she must have been speaking relatively.

Nine hours of slicing through page after page of doorstopper had been nothing to her master, so she resolved that it would be nothing to her too. He’d been a great believer in being systematic, and nopony who thought differently ever studied under him.

Though she refused to stop, much of the book tempted her. There were sections on dangerous blue flowers with punny names, on advanced multi-pony transportation spells and summoning spells, and on the twenty-five excellent enchantments for master casters. There were even sections on dangerous charms that could manipulate desires and transform living creatures, though these were immediately followed by instructions on how to perform the appropriate failsafe spells when they went awry. Not if, she noticed. When.

Clover spent a lot of time reading and rereading each sentence. Occasionally, a unicorn passed behind her, though when they noticed the sheer aura of concentration between her eyes and the page, many hurried on as if not keen to be around when the laser shifted direction.

Frustratingly, the actual page itself meant nothing to her. There were reams and reams of scribbles in the margins, though, and she tried her luck there. Some of them were references to other books.

Mountains of books began piling themselves up on top of the polished oak table. Galleries of portraits posed for long-dead painters, and watched with hauteur as volume after volume drifted down the corridors towards the one point. References and cross-references were checked, notes taken down, books sent back and new ones summoned in their place. She didn’t eat. She didn’t drink. It was the same pattern, day after day, until none of the days had an individuality to speak of, and the regular library visitors began to switch their favourite tables for ones further away from her.

One evening, the Librarian came down from her desk to talk to her.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Clover,” she said, “but we only have three minutes left. At this pace, you’ll soon be staying in after closing time, too. Why don’t you give yourself a break for a few hours?”

“No! I’m on a winding road up the mountains, here.” Clover’s hair was dishevelled and both eyes were shrinking like drying leaves. She hadn’t even looked up. “If I stray from the path for even a second–”

“Master Star Swirl would’ve had a break.”

The air turned dangerously thick. Clover rose from the chair. Her hood covered her disgrace of a mane. She ambled past the Librarian, hoof beats like the thuds of closing coffins.

She stepped out, blinking in the unfamiliar moonlight, and on the marble steps overlooking an empty campus green, she saw the face of a past life strolling by.

Clover didn’t think about it at all. Her surprise went straight to her mouth and fired the words out: “S-Star Secret?”

The face vanished, to be replaced by the grey mug of an elderly jade. “Can I help you, deary?”

Clover shook herself – the work must be getting to her at last – and looked again, bringing her mind away from days of preoccupations to focus on this new insight. The grey jade waited patiently, wrapped in a wizened shawl. Something had clicked into place.

“No. N-Nothing. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, ma’am.”

The jade nodded, and walked past her for the library. For a brief moment, Clover fancied she saw a sapphire around her chest, but it vanished like a ghost. Clover's old life came back to meet her. Old ways of thinking began to reform themselves. Before they had done so to any degree of coherence, Clover failed to call her back, and when she turned around she found that the old jade was gone.

Having waited long enough, Celestia raised the sun and returned to her letter.

Mother, it is time I spoke frankly. I do not approve of this unnecessary secrecy, and I certainly do not approve of the way you choose to keep the three races separate. You know I have always felt like this, having explained my position enough times to you. However, considering recent events, I feel now that the time has come for a more open age of ponydom. Thousands of fascinating lives have passed, never knowing the truth about their world. It pains me to think that any pony should live among such riches as these and never once set their eyes upon even a thousandth of them. Our secretive ways have cost us so much.

The quill stopped again. Letters like these were difficult to perfect, and Celestia preferred speaking with ponies face-to-face. She had thought that becoming the acting authority would allow her to escape the tunnels of palace society, but the new faces she had met were almost identical to the old ones in appearance, and were exactly as tiresome in their manner.

Celestia’s thoughts were poised over the manuscript. From the other side of the chamber door, she heard hoofsteps pass by on the landing.

To Princess Platinum’s surprise, Clover requested a private meeting with the respective leaders of the earth ponies and the pegasi. After much questioning, the Princess relented, if only to keep her quiet. It was even more surprising when the other leaders accepted.

Chancellor Puddinghead had gone into the Canterlot palace antechamber first, where Clover sat with quill poised and tongue ready to fire. It was a curious interview, not least of all because the Chancellor had insisted on eating the notes afterwards. After Clover had filled out the second set, Commander Hurricane was called in. Her explanations for each answer were accompanied by some rigorous gesticulations, and once Clover had repaired the furniture, the Commander was thanked and Clover saluted in what she hoped was an appropriately military way. The Commander corrected the salute before leaving.

Strange, thought Clover as she compared the notes. Very, very strange.

Later, she took a coach out of town for the mountains, and set off over the frozen river in the gorge. Nopony saw her again for nine days. Many feared the worst and some actually began preparations for a second funeral.

“Hasn’t she sent a note at all?” Smart Cookie asked the Princess in her own bedchamber. “Ah can’t stand it no longer.”

“I’m sure the apprentice of one of the greatest magic-wielders in unicorn history is perfectly fine by herself,” said the Princess, placing her levitated eyelashes onto her lids. “And must you stand so close to me? I can see cake mixture all over your hat.”

“It’s like all that business in the cave never happened, isn’t it?” Cookie said.

The Princess sighed. “I am sorry, my dear friend. I had no intention of offending. But would you mind, all the same? This faux ermine cape came fresh from the artificers this morning.”

Smart Cookie complied, making no issue about it. The Princess was as flighty as an éclair, but not a particularly bad leader (unlike some ponies Smart Cookie could think of). At least the Princess wasn’t using her head as a portable cake larder.

Private Pansy walked through the portal (it was never a door – Princess Platinum wouldn’t use such a common word as ‘door’) and into the chamber to join them. “Did she say when she’ll be back, sir?” she said.

“Pansy, I am not a ‘sir’, I’m a ‘madam’ or ‘ma’am’, pronounced like ‘ham’, not like ‘harm’. Or Your Majesty. I prefer Your Majesty. Your Majesty has that certain je ne sais quoi about it, no?”

“Sorry. I mean, did she say when she’ll be back, Your Majesty?”

“No. Now stop worrying and have some faith in my associate. She won’t be long.”

In fact, it was another nine days before Clover was sighted, utterly fatigued and close to collapsing in the open grass fields near the foot of the mountain. The farmers who found her there gave her water and fruit, and sent news to the Princess in Canterlot.

She came herself, drawn by her royal guard in her carriage, and speaking very little to Smart Cookie and Private Pansy (who had both insisted on coming). When they arrived, the first thing the Princess did – in spite of all decorum – was break out into wails of grief, rush out of the carriage to Clover’s bedside, and seize her in a fierce embrace. Everypony else left them alone for a while.

The convoy stayed for the rest of the afternoon. When the sun began to descend into a spectrum of colours, all the Canterlot visitors took to the carriage and began the journey back home.

“You alright, Clover?” said Smart Cookie, after they had passed the fields.

Clover nodded. Despite being wrapped from head to hoof in layer after layer of shawls, she was wide-eyed and shivering. The other three exchanged nervous looks.

“You look absolutely terrified, my dear. Did you find what you were looking for?” said the Princess, taking off her own cape. “Here, take this. It’s an old one. It was going out of fashion, anyway.”

Clover shook her head. “I found… something.”

“Are you going to tell us?” said Private Pansy. “It’s not… sc-scary, is it?”

Even the ponies pulling the carriage became quieter, as if treading more lightly on the dirt track and cocking their ears towards the carriage. Clover took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” she said. “What’s your definition of scary?”

The three races have now reconciled their differences. There is still much to do, but for once harmony has come to our world. I am convinced that other legends must be true. The Elements of Harmony must exist, and if they wield the power they are said to wield, then even alicorn magic will not defeat it. And with the ponies in their new land, founded under peace and harmony at last, it is only a matter of time before our charade is discovered. I must say, mother, I welcome the prospect.

Celestia took several deep breaths and wiped her brow with the back of her hoof. Should she say it, or should she not? It was dangerously close to treason, and - Princess or not - Celestia refused to put herself above the law. She sensed the fates of millions of lives resting on her decision, surrounding her and stretching out into the years ahead. She looked out upon the dawn.

She lowered the quill, hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued writing.

I am going to seek out the Elements of Harmony. And then I am going to confront all three leaders at once and tell them what their ancestors should have heard at the beginning of our history together. I am deeply sorry it has come to this, mother. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Now she was not turning back. Yet, because even the defining moments of history allow for some choice, she added:

Rest assured that I will not involve Luna in any of this. She will be perfectly safe.

Signed,

Your most loving daughter,

Princess Celestia

A rolling of the parchment, a flash of magic, and her chance to revoke her decision was gone in a puff of golden smoke.  Celestia summoned her shawl, wrapped it around herself, and overflowed with light. Before the flash vanished, the afterimage of an old jade briefly hung in the air. The new life began.

The bed chamber was empty, except for a slight disturbance. There was something in the corner covered by a cloth. It squawked like the dying breath of a diseased parrot. Then silence ruled.

A while later, someone knocked on the door.

“Dear sister. We wish to speak with you. We wish to have the pleasure of your company downstairs for the traditional Avalock breakfast together. We hope you are not busy? Celestia? Dear sister? Are you in there?”