Voices in the Void

It was an ugly place, the old monastery. It jutted from the side of an ancient crag in the Unicorn Mountain Range, and in its silhouette, the arrangement of its square, stone towers made it seem like some haggard parody of Canterlot. Indeed, in many ways, it was.

For it had been in Canterlot that Twilight Sparkle had spent the bulk of her youth, isolated and buried, by her own choice, in her mind. Such was the case here, also, but those years in Canterlot had been years of hope and aspiration. Her confinement here, also of her own design, was chosen out of despair and regret.

There had been a place and time between that era of her life and this one where Twilight Sparkle had been truly happy, even in spite of peril and tribulation. She had not been alone, then. She had been in the company of those who had known her best, who had understood her strengths, and who had been able to cover over her weaknesses.

Those days were long gone.

It was these things that Princess Mi Amore Cadenza reflected upon as she descended slowly from a sky as gray as the monastery beneath her outstretched wings. She wondered briefly where she would set down her hooves, but her eyes quickly found a balcony that extended outward from the tallest central tower of the time-worn edifice.

Most likely how Twi gets in and out, herself, she thought, if she ever comes out.

She sighed amidst her slow, downward glide, and finally brought herself to lite on the balcony.

There was not so much as a single piece of furniture there – not a deck chair or even a table with a potted plant. It was barren and empty. There was, however, a door to the tower's interior.

With no better plan of action offering itself, she simply knocked on the old, oaken door.

No answer came, and after the full duration of a minute had passed, she knocked again, more loudly.

“If she won't answer,” said the alicorn, speaking aloud to herself, “then I'll just have to let myself in.”

Her horn glimmered for a moment, and to her surprise, the door opened easily. It had not even been locked. She heard a dull clamor from just inside, and hoped that she hadn't accidentally damaged something. It would have been a bad way to begin a visit so long in coming.

“Not even locked?” she mumbled. “I would have thought Twi would be better than this at the whole hermit... thing.”

She stepped inside, and was not the least surprised at what she found: books. It was difficult to discern much about the room itself, for on every table and shelf, on the floor, and of course on all of the many bookshelves, they were stacked, seemingly dozens deep, in some places. There was a bed in which they made it impossible to sleep, a desk upon which they made it impossible to write, and at the opposite end of the room, a door which they made it impossible to close. Indeed, a cursory examination revealed that the sound she had heard upon opening the balcony door had been a large stack of books toppling at its touch.

“Twilight!” she shouted. “Where could she be?”

She wove her way forward through the piles and stacks of ancient volumes, and finally reached the other door. In the hallway, there were still a few more stacks of books near the open door, but otherwise, it was clear.

It was also bleak. There were no paintings on the walls, and no ornamentation of any kind. Everything was cold, angular, and gray. The monastery was exactly as it had been hundreds of years ago, when ponies had come here seeking solitude of heart and mind. It was only appropriate that Twilight would leave it this way.

“Twilight Sparkle!” she shouted, louder than before. “I'm coming to find you!”

“Gods,” she almost laughed. “How many years since I've said those words in that tone of voice?”

Her alicorn blood, thin though it was, had kept her from changing too drastically with the passing of those years, but she still felt the weight of their distance as she reflected on them.

“Well,” she said, “Hide and Seek: Grown-Up Edition.”

She grinned for a moment.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

Several minutes later, after having searched many halls and several floors, she began to worry that Twilight may not live here, anymore.

“It would explain the unlocked door, and...”

It was then that she noticed a light from an open door at the end of the hall. It was faint, but still apparent in the dim corridor. She approached it quietly, her heart filled with fear and hope.

How often in her life had those two emotions been so deeply intertwined?

As she came to the door, she peeked in. Predictably, it appeared to be a library, and stunningly, the enormous number of books in the bedroom upstairs was only a tiny fraction of the number which it must have contained. It was not nearly so large as the Canterlot Archives, but still immense enough that even the lifespan of a lesser alicorn like Twilight or herself would never permit the reading of them all.

It was exactly why Twilight had chosen this place.

The light that had drawn her attention came from a large fireplace. Like the rest of the building, it was plain, gray stone, with an oaken mantle, devoid of all adornment, save for a clock, which in some cruel jeer of chance had been designed with a motif of the sun and moon. The flame within the hearth below burned only weakly, but it was bright enough to reveal the backside of a sofa which had been placed in front of it. A wing the color of clouds at sunset draped over its back, and here, at last, Cadance was certain she had found her quarry.

She walked in quietly, unsure of how to make Twilight aware of her presence.

I shouldn't sneak up on her, she thought. If she doesn't know it's me, she might freak out. She gave it another moment's thought. And if she freaks out, she might blast me to hell; gods know she's got the firepower.

“Twilight?” she said, only slightly louder than a whisper. “It's me, Cadance.”

There was no reply.

She stepped forward again, and spoke a little more loudly.

“Twi?”

Again, she moved forward, and this time, she spoke plainly.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

Now, the protective instinct she had always felt for her little sister woke up, and demanded action.

“Twi, are you okay?” She raised her pace to a nervous trot, and rounded the couch quickly.

She stopped, and sighed in relief.

Twilight Sparkle lay on her side, her head on a small pillow. There was a book lying face-down and open on the floor in front of her. Her only visible sign of life was the slow, regular breathing of a deep, deep sleep. What Cadance at first took to be a navy-colored blanket she quickly realized to be the mare's own mane and tail, grown long in the period of her isolation. The hot purple and pink stripe that shot through them naturally appeared dull and faded for their long lack of any sort of treatment to bring out their color. At the very least, her hair, too long or not, appeared clean and was not matted, which told Cadance that she was at least tending to her own basic hygiene. That was a relief, given that it probably meant she was still sound of mind despite her long isolation.

She was too thin. To have lived so long here, she must have found some way to grow food for herself, but she was no earth pony, and without their particular kind of magic, the ground gave up its bounty only sparingly. It hurt Cadance to see her so emaciated.

These were details, however. Mostly, it was the whole picture that struck her: Little Twilie had fallen asleep over an unfinished book, again. Once upon a time, she'd have carried her up to her room and put her to bed. As it was, however, it was enough to see that she was alive and more-or-less well.

After a few moments, she gathered the courage to reach forward and touch Twilight on the shoulder. The purple alicorn stirred, but did not awaken.

“Twilight,” she said, shaking her slightly.

Now, Twilight's eyes cracked open, and she gave a slight moan.

“Hi,” said Cadance, quietly. Her voice cracked at even that one syllable, and her eyes began to well.

Twilight lifted her head, and only the very faintest beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Sunshine, sunshine,” she said dourly, and she let her head drop back to the pillow. “Ladybugs can go to hell.”

Cadance dove onto Twilight like a fox onto a rabbit, wrapping her up tight in her forelegs.

“I found you!” She half sobbed, half-laughed. “I found my sister!”

“Go ahead and make a big deal out of it, then,” said Twilight, but she did not try to push Cadance off of herself.

After most of a minute, Cadance finally pulled away.

“Who sent you?” asked Twilight, sitting upright. “Princess Celestia?”

“Sort of,” said Cadance. “She asked me to come. She didn't know what you would do if she came, herself.”

“So, she found me, huh?”

“Tome found you. You left your library card at the front desk eight years ago, and he kept it as a memento. He ran across it in his desk last month, and he got curious about the last few books you'd checked out. When he went back and read them... Well, that's how we found out about this place.”

“Tome... That old codger's still alive?” asked Twilight.

“Of course,” said Cadance. “He finished writing that book he was working on. He refuses to die until you've read it.”

“He's got wings,” said Twilight. “Tell him to bring me a copy.”

“I'll do no such thing,” said Cadance. “I'm here to bring you home.”

“I'm not going back to Canterlot,” said Twilight. “And I'm certainly not going back to Ponyville.” She hung her head. “There are too many ponies in both those towns that I can't look in the eye, and a couple of horses, to boot. Too many memories.”

“Those ponies are your friends, and those memories are all good, even... No, especially the ones of Spike.”

“Not the last one,” said Twilight.

“Don't do that,” said Cadance.

Twilight's jaw clenched for a moment, then slowly relaxed.

“I fucked up, Cadance,” she said, and her words were crushingly bitter, though her voice did not crack in the least.

“So, what? Everypony fucks up. Please, just come home.”

“I fucked up everything for everypony, everywhere,” said Twilight, “and we don't even know how badly, yet, and when we do find out, it will be in the worst possible way. I let everypony down worse than anypony has ever let anypony else down before, or ever will, again."

She shook her head.

I can't go home,” she said, and she cleared her throat. "Ever."

“Then come to my home,” said Cadance. “Will you come live with me and Shining Armor? I'm not judging you, and neither will he – you know that. Nopony in the Crystal City knows you as anything except Princess...”

“Stop,” said Twilight, sharply.

“Except as Twilight Sparkle, then.” Cadance paused for a moment. “I'll forbid anypony to call you Pr... To call you that, if you'll just come home.”

“Oh, really?” asked Twilight, forcing as much sarcasm into her words she could. “You'd do that for me? An oppressive edict barring free speech just on my account? I'm honored.”

Cadance sighed. “Look, I know where you live. You will never be rid of me, now.”

“Damn it all to hell,” said Twilight, dropping back onto her pillow. “Fine.”

***

“We are coming,” said the voices in the void.

“Who are you?” asked the voice of a child.

“We are they whom you have wronged, and now, we shall repay,” they said again, seeming to reverberate from everywhere within the impenetrable blackness.

“But I haven't done anything to anypony!” came the pleading response.

“That you do not remember it is, in itself, another grievous offense.”

Shimmershine bolted upright in his bed. His heart was pounding. It did this every time he had one of these nightmares. It wasn't that it beat faster. If anything, it was slower, but it was also harder, somehow, as if it was trying to burst from his chest with every pulse.

His whole coat was soaked with cold sweat. He played with the idea of just trying to go back to sleep, but he knew it would be useless. The dreams he had been having for the past several weeks were like no others he could recall in his nine short years. There were no images; only feelings, and those feelings were all of darkness, emptiness, shame, and regret. Furthermore, they were enormous in their scope, well beyond anything he had ever felt in his entire life.

Only in the last week had the voices come.

Shimmershine rolled out of bed, and stumbled into the bedroom across the hall from his own. There, his mother lay asleep. He approached the bed, and shook her shoulder. She woke suddenly, obviously startled from a dream of her own. In a moment, she perceived the situation, and spoke.

“What is it, Shim?” asked Lyra Heartstrings. “Have another one of those dreams?”

“Uh-huh,” he replied.

“It's okay, big guy,” she mumbled, still laying on her side. “I've been having some bad ones, too.”

“I'm sorry,” said the colt.

“What for?” asked his mother, through a giggle.

“I dunno,” he said. “I kinda get this weird feeling like it's my fault, or something.”

“Shim, that's silly.”

“Guess so,” he said, trying his best to smile.

“You want me to come sing you a lullaby?” asked the unicorn.

“I'm too old for that,” he said, bashfully.

“Then how about I just play you something soft, until you get back to sleep?”

“Mmmkay,” he mumbled, and headed back towards his bedroom.

“Gonna ruin him, at this rate,” said Lyra, quietly. “My parents would have made me go back to bed by myself.” She shook her head, and sighed.

Well, your parents did a shitty job, anyway, she thought. You're a gay single mother, broke-as-hell professional musician obsessed with a fantasy world full of creatures that don't exist. Now, go put your son to bed.

Without a further thought, she took her lyre from its case beside her bed, and headed for her son's room.

***

It was the pain that woke her, each morning. Once upon a time, it had been the rooster's crow, but these days, it was always the pain. It was at its worst in her hips and shoulders, but every vertebra in her back seemed to ache, from time to time.

Today, it seemed her whole body was presenting a united front.

“Gonna be one-a them days.”

Applejack gritted her teeth, and rolled over. She lowered herself gently out of bed, and stretched out as best as she could, drawing air through her teeth in a series of short, harsh hisses. Her joints crackled and popped.

She stumbled into the hallway, and blundered down the stairs, her hooves landing heavily, and echoing loudly. She had no reason to be quiet. She had lived alone for most of a year, now.

“Glad harvest is finally over,” she said.

She stopped by a bottle of Old Grandad she had left sitting on the counter the night before. She looked at it, then rolled her eyes, and sighed.

“I know better than this,” she said, “but I'm-a doing it, anyway.” She unscrewed the cap, and pulled a glass from the cabinet above. She poured herself a little of the whiskey, and shot it.

“Whiskey before breakfast,” said Applejack. “Granny Smith woulda had my ass.”

She stepped to the refrigerator. Pulling open the door, she found it distressingly barren. A quick perusal of her pantry showed that she was, indeed, completely out of anything edible – even apples. She had not bothered to bring any in from the cellar, yesterday.

“Hell of a day to be me,” she grumbled. “Back before Applebloom took off, I'da never let this happen.”

She sighed. It was still strange for the old homestead to be so empty. Big Macintosh had his own family, and at Cheerilee's behest, had built a separate house elsewhere on the property. Granny Smith had passed away five years prior, a victim of old age, dementia, and finally a stroke. Those were matters over which she had no real control.

Applebloom, however, was largely Applejack's own fault. True, she hadn't meant to drive her sister away. At some point, though, honesty had crossed into bluntness, and from there, into criticism. From criticism, it had crossed into outright meanness.

It was a hazy memory. Too many of her memories of the last several years were hazy, run together in a flood of too much work and too much whiskey. She couldn't even recall the argument they'd had, what had caused it, or the details of the brawl they'd gotten into afterward, but Applejack remembered the last thing she had ever said to her sister.

“If you're such a hardass, grown mare that you can take a swing at your big sis, then I guess you'll do fine on your own. Get gone, and don't come back.”

Applebloom had done just that, and now, Applejack was alone.

More and more, it seemed to the Earth Mare that it might have been a good idea to have spent a little more time looking for someone with whom to spend her life. The ugly truth, however, was that she felt it was too late for that, now. She was set in her ways, and she was more mare than any stallion in Ponyville could handle. She was beginning to understand that this isolation had always been her destiny, an inevitability born of her very nature.

Her brother had turned out well enough, and Applebloom had shown more and more promise as time had gone on. It was only Applejack herself who had failed to adjust, somehow. She was a workaholic and an alcoholic, and hell-bent on proving her worth to an audience that wasn't even paying attention, anymore.

“What was it Twilight used to call it?” she asked herself, as she grabbed her hat from a peg on the wall. “Middle Child Syndrome.”

She stepped outside, turned, and pulled the door shut. She couldn't help noticing that it needed a new coat of paint. She huffed, and shook her head.

“Weird that I'd think of Twi, today,” she gave a harsh, single chuckle, tinged with bitter melancholy. “Gotta go get something to eat, or I won't get jack shit done the whole damn day.”

The orange pony bumbled into town just as the sun had fully cleared the horizon and the shops were beginning to open. She would have to visit the hardware store for paint and fresh brushes, but her first stop would be Sugar Cube Corner. She needed a cup of coffee and a bowl of Pinkie's Wake-Me-Up Oatmeal. Applejack wasn't completely sure what Pinkie put in the stuff, but it always seemed to clear her head on mornings like these.

She stepped through the door of the bakery, and reflexively dove behind a table, kicking it over to shield herself from a hail of rubber darts that flew from seemingly every nook and cranny.

“You miss every time, Pumpkin.” Applejack heard a tiny voice say. “You suck.”

“Uh-uh, you suck!” said another voice in reply.

“What the hell!?” came Pinkie's high-pitched voice from somewhere in the kitchen.

Applejack peaked over the edge of the table, and saw her attackers: Six foals of various ages. The two oldest were the Cake Twins, Pound and Pumpkin. Three of the other four were Pinkie's children, and between them, every race of pony was represented, owing to Pinkie Pie's three failed marriages. It was, in fact, her inability to maintain a steady marriage that accounted for the necessity of her bringing her foals to work with her on weekends. There was no father at home to watch them, and there had not been for most of their lives. Each of them had watched boyfriends and “new daddies” come and go to the point that they took little note of who their mother happened to be dating at the time.

The remaining foal, a colt, was Shimmershine Heartstrings, adoptive son of Lyra Heartstrings.

“Seriously!?” shouted Pinkie, storming into the lobby. “What is wrong with all of you? You're gonna scare away the customers!”

“But it's Miss Apple,” said Pumpkin Cake, a plastic dart gun levitating in the air beside her. “She's the only grown-up that's any good at this game. Anypony else woulda been dead meat, already.”

Out of nowhere, a rubber dart pegged the unicorn filly right beside her horn, and stuck there. Applejack turned her head to see Pinkie now wielding what appeared to be a rubber dart Gatling gun.

“Anypony else, huh?” said Pinkie, giving the foals a wicked grin. “Well, that's one of you down.”

They all dashed for the door, piling over one another, and squealing in cold fear of the inevitable storm of suction cup doom to come. It was all in vain. As they burst through the door, there – somehow – stood Pinkie Pie.

CHIGGACHIGGACHIGGACHIGGACHIGGACHIGGACHIGGA.

Pinkie returned inside, dropping her empty weapon and all six of its smoking, plastic barrels beside the door. Applejack caught a brief glimpse of the scene outside through the swinging door. The foals looked like a half dozen rubber-quilled porcupines, staring off into the distance in mild shock.

“I may be getting old and fat,” said Pinkie, “but I've still got it.”

“Pinkie,” said Applejack, “You're thirty-one, and I already told you the scale in your bathroom's stuck at seven hundred pounds from where Big Mac fell on it at the Hearth's Warming party. Hell, I'm only weighing in around five-fifty, and you ain't even as big as me.”

“Oh yeah,” said Pinkie, then she smiled. “In that case, I'm still lethal and sexy!”

“There we go,” said the orange earth pony. “Now get me some oatmeal, and see if you can snag a break.”

Since there were no other customers, Pinkie was able to comply with both of Applejack's requests.

“See you're staying busy,” said Applejack, as the pair sat at a table by a window, watching the scene outside.

The foals had pried the darts off their bodies, and were now having an argument over who should play Queen Chrysalis in some epic battle they were planning to orchestrate.

“I'm always busy,” said Pinkie Pie. “Lots to do around here, and then you should see my house. They keep it wrecked all the time,” she said, nodding towards the foals, who had by now decided, in accordance with some backwards logic, that since Queen Chrysalis was a changeling, they could all be her at the same time.

“Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure,” said Applejack.

“Nah,” sighed Pinkie Pie, “I guess not.” She shuddered, slightly.

“What was that about?” asked Applejack.

“Dunno,” said Pinkie. “Been getting this weird, shivery feeling all morning.”

“Gonna be a big day, I guess,” said Applejack.

“Maybe,” replied Pinkie. “So how's life on the farm?”

“Sucks,” said Applejack, cheerfully.

Pinkie gave a half-hearted giggle.

“Well, how are Big Mac and Cheerilee?” she asked. “I haven't seen him since he broke my scale, and my little hellspawn never tell me anything about Cheerilee that doesn't involve excuses for why they have detention.”

“They're fine,” said Applejack, morosely. “Happy, boring as hell, and totally fine.”

“Aren't we all?” said Pinkie Pie.

Applejack nodded towards the door. “Nope,” she said, quietly.

Pinkie turned to see what or whom Applejack had indicated. It was Fluttershy, and the sight made Pinkie sigh deeply.

Her mane was draped to cover the right side of her face, and she was wearing too much makeup and a pair of large, darkly-shaded sunglasses.

“Oh! Hello, girls.” she said, with as much volume as she ever used. She took off the glasses, and tucked them into her saddlebag, careful all the while to keep her head erect enough that her mane would not slip to the side and reveal what Applejack and Pinkie Pie already knew was there.

“Hi, Fluttershy!” said Pinkie cheerfully. “Can I get you something?”

“I'd just like a little coffee,” said the pegasus, "and some aspirin."

“Coming right up,” said Pinkie Pie. “You just take a seat right here.”

The yellow pony did as Pinkie told her, and took a seat across from Applejack, who sipped at her coffee without saying a word.

Fluttershy turned her head to the right, and pretended to look out the window. Applejack continued sipping at the steaming, black brew in her cup, but she could feel a boiling sensation growing in the pit of her stomach. Her jaw clenched tightly, and she felt her teeth beginning to grind. Soon, she became aware that Fluttershy had noticed, and tried to stop herself. It was no use.

“What brings you out this early?” Fluttershy asked, trying to break the tension.

“Outta food,” said Applejack, shortly. “Gotta eat to work.”

“Ah,” was all that Fluttershy said in response. The silence that descended between the two ponies was overbearing and oppressive. After a few seconds, Applejack could take it no more. Even as Pinkie Pie was returning to the table with Fluttershy's coffee, she spoke.

“Show me,” was all that she said.

Fluttershy winced, and shrank back.

“Ah, shit,” said Pinkie Pie.

Fluttershy sat back upright, and turned her head to face Applejack. She lifted a hoof, and swept aside her mane, though only slightly. She had done her best to hide it with her makeup, but despite her efforts, it was readily apparent that the draining fluid from a fresh black eye had begun to turn her entire cheek a sickly mixture of browns, greens, and purples.

Still, there was something that she wasn't letting the earth ponies see. They could tell it by her mere posture. Without asking permission, Applejack reached out and swept her mane fully aside. There was a gash running through her eyebrow. It had been stitched up.

“That's where his horseshoe caught you, ain't it?” She scowled. “What did you tell 'em at the hospital?”

“I told them I fell off a cloud while I was taking a nap,” she said, obviously ashamed.

“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie, “and they asked you all the questions, again, didn't they?”

“Of course they did,” whispered Fluttershy. Her eyes teared up, slightly.

“If you'd tell 'em the truth,” said Applejack, “You'd be rid of him.”

“I don't want to be rid of him,” said Fluttershy. “And besides, what if it didn't work out that way? What would he do then?”

“Wait,” said Pinkie Pie. “So you won't do anything about this because you're afraid? 'Cause I'll totally pull the party cannon on his ass, and it won't be loaded with confetti, either.”

“Not just that,” said Fluttershy. “I don't want him gone. I just... I don't know.”

“Fuck it,” said Applejack. “None of my goddamn business.” She sipped again at her coffee, then looked Fluttershy in the eyes. “Still disgusts me, though.”

“You mean, I disgust you?” asked the pegasus, turning her eyes towards the table.

The room fell silent, except the sound of the two ponies occasionally sipping at their coffee. Pinkie Pie returned to tidying up the lobby, and Applejack simply stared out the window, wondering how much longer she could put off going back home to put a fresh coat of paint on the barn.

That was why she saw it first: a chariot drawn by royal guards landed right outside, just beyond where the foals were still playing.

“Aw, goddammit,” she said.

The other two ponies looked at her, and seeing her nod towards the window, quickly ascertained the reason for her irritation: Princess Celestia had stepped off the chariot, and was walking directly toward Sugar Cube Corner.

“I wonder what the hell she wants,” said Pinkie Pie, curiously.

“I have no idea what the hell she even could want,” said Fluttershy, confused.

“I don't give a damn what the hell she wants,” said Applejack, seething.

At that moment, Princess Celestia stepped through the door, escorted by two guards.

Applejack turned to look at her, and scowled.

“What the hell do you want?”

One of the guards gave a low, growling whinny, and Celestia raised a hoof in front of his chest. He settled down, and she spoke.

“I came to give you some news that I felt you deserved to hear from me face-to-face.”

“Spit it out,” said Applejack, disinterestedly.

Celestia sighed.

“Not even going to pretend to care, I see?”

“It'd be dishonest,” said Applejack, giving her a grin that stopped well short of her eyes.

“AJ,” said Pinkie Pie, “just let her get on with it, would you?”

“Fine,” huffed Applejack, and silence fell on the room for a few seconds.

Finally, after gnawing at her lip for a moment, Celestia gave a slight shrug, and spoke.

“We found Twilight Sparkle,” was all that she said.

Pinkie Pie leapt the counter, and skidded to a halt in front of the Princess.

“Say that again.”

“We found her,” said Celestia. “She's in the Crystal Empire, with her brother and Cadance.” She paused for a moment. “I thought you should know.”

Applejack, who had been taken completely off guard by the news, said nothing. It was Fluttershy who asked the question that plagued the three ponies' minds.

“When can we see her?”

“I don't know,” said Celestia. “I am leaving that decision up to you. From what Cadance has told me in letters, I am fairly certain that she does not wish to see me. Given the circumstances of our parting, I am not surprised.”

“Well, you shouldn't be,” said Applejack, harshly, and she sipped at her coffee.

“Then how wonderful to know that all is right in the world,” said Celestia, coldly. “If even one of you has a chance to try and contact her, however, please do so. It may shock you to know this, but I do still care about the fate of Twilight Sparkle, and whatever her current condition, her best chance of ever becoming something that even approximates her former self lies with you.”

“Who's saying I still give a shit about her?” asked Applejack. “She's the one that up and hauled ass after we all tried to help her keep it together – which is more than you can say.”

“I was given no opportunity," said Celestia. "She never came to me for help."

“But you didn't have to say what you said,” came Fluttershy's small voice.

Celestia was so surprised to have been brought to task by, of all ponies, Fluttershy, that for a moment, she could not find the words to respond.

“No, I did not,” she said, finally, her voice sinking. “For a moment, I allowed myself to be... imperfect,” she said, and the way she pronounced that word “imperfect” had more rancor than the foulest curse. “That one moment turned out to be the most vital moment in the life of somepony I love. Congratulations to you all; you witnessed the greatest single shortcoming of my entire life. Years beyond counting, and failures too numerous to even permit recollection, but you were all there for the big one.”

None of them responded. They had no idea how.

“When you get a chance, go to her,” said Celestia. “Or don't. I will demand nothing of any of you. You have all done enough in the past.”

With that, she turned to leave. Before she could go, however, something caused her to turn around.

“That foal out there,” she said, “is that Shimmershine?”

“Yeah,” said Pinkie Pie. “That's him; the almighty Sun Eater, himself.”

“He seems... normal,” said Celestia, her voice peaceful, tinged even with a tiny bit of hope.

“Pretty much,” said Pinkie Pie. “He stays out of trouble, as long as he's not hanging around
my boys.”

“I see,” said Celestia. “So, maybe he did turn out to just be a happy, normal earth pony.”

“So far, so good,” said Pinkie Pie. “Lyra was in here a few days ago, though, and she mentioned that he's been having nightmares. Probably nothing. Lots of foals go through that phase.”

“Yes,” said Celestia. “Probably just a phase.”

She gave a slight nod. “Well, thank you all,” she said, and once more began to turn. Before she could even come fully about, however, she stopped, and looked intently at Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy,” she asked, “what happened to your face?”

The pegasus had not bothered to don her glasses or reposition her mane.

“I fell,” she mumbled, pushing her hair back over her eye and cheek.

“From where?” asked the Princess, “Cloudsdale?”

“Ha!” came a single, half-snorted laugh from Pinkie Pie.

“Just let it alone,” said Applejack. “That little pony's hopeless.”

“I see,” said Celestia. “We're all hopeless these days, aren't we?”

“I'm doing fine,” said Pinkie Pie. "Speak for yourself."

“Well,” said the Princess, “I'll be on my way.”

She turned, and this time, she really did leave.

The ponies took note of her stopping to speak to the foals. They all seemed stunned and even a little frightened, but in a few moments, she turned, and hopped into her chariot.

Then, she was gone.

“Well,” said Applejack, standing up, “Fluttershy, your boyfriend's a heartless dick. As for me, I have a barn to paint, and I coulda done it a lot more clear-headed if'n Twilight had fucking stayed dead."

She snorted sharply, and started for the door.

“See y'all later,” she said.

“Honesty,” said Fluttershy. “Yay.”

“She's just trying to help,” said Pinkie Pie, and then she smiled. "She's right about one thing, though -- Twilight's back from the dead."

Author's Note

Originally, Twilight was going to have a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that she had found somewhere in the Monastery after too much reading in its dim confines had begun to degrade her eyesight. It was meant to make her seem older, but I decided it gave off too much of a hipster vibe, and replaced them with the part about her being a little bit emaciated. It's not a pleasant image, but it's what she would probably look like, and it felt right.

I thought and thought about changing Shimmershine's name. First of all, there was that opening song from the Season Three finale. "Morning in Ponyville shimmers/shines," etc. Then, there was Sunset Shimmer. Finally, I just said "To hell with it." I gave him that name before either of those things happened -- Fluttershy gave him that name before either of those things. It's a hazard of writing in an ongoing universe.