The Sovereign Heart

The morning sun was warm as it played across her coat and slipped along the contours of her wings, but even the light paled in comparison to the glory of its caretaker who stood before her.

How strange then, Twilight Sparkle mused, that she had always failed to notice that that same warmth never quite reached the eyes of her prior mentor. Even now, there are lessons to be learned from you, Princess.

Celestia shifted uncomfortably, as if searching for her next words; a rarity, Twilight knew. “You must understand, Twilight,” she said, her pearlescent mane shifting in the sun. “You will not find answers hidden away among the pages of a book. There is no guide for grieving, no spell or scroll that I can give to you for study. There is only one true salve for loss.” She paused, and for a moment Celestia's gaze left Twilight to settle on one of the many etchings of stained glass that adorned the windows of the throne room—the face of the moon, with a darkness at its center. “Time.”

And how many eons did it take for you to go numb to that loss, Celestia? Odd, she thought, that a pony who need never fear the experience herself be able to comprehend what it meant to those left behind. But of course that wasn't true, Twilight reminded herself. One day. One day, when all of this is long gone. Even the sun must die, Princess.

“But perhaps I can help,” the alicorn continued. “Talk to me, Twilight. You know that I am always here for you.” She reached down and touched the younger pony gently. “What are you feeling?”

She might have laughed. What did she feel? Anger? Sadness? Confusion or pity or longing? Regret? Guilt? She could have said any of them. After all, what is one against all the others?

The word that passed her lips, she decided, was guilt enough.

***

The morning sun was warm, her amethyst coat drinking in the light and heat in adoration as the rays kissed it. Her ears twitched as a trio of mourning doves lilted a doleful refrain. A light breeze tickled her nose, and with it came the scents of spring: damp, musky earth after last night's rain; lavender, daisies and daffodils; dew upon the heather, and everything green and full of life coming back into the world.

The others stood close beside her as Twilight awaited her turn to speak. She had barely spoken to any of them since they had last been together on the morning before Hearth's Warming Eve, but whether out of courtesy or compassion this fact did not seem to be on anyone's mind but her own, and Twilight had to admit she was grateful for their presence.

Applejack and Fluttershy had said little, but their hugs were sympathetic and true and their faces kind and understanding; they had braided white trillium into their manes, garnished by irises.

Rarity looked as Rarity always did—stunning, beautiful, graceful. She rubbed her nose against Twilight's cheek as she cooed a steady stream of condolences. Twilight managed a half-smile and a nod for each, and gave Rarity an affectionate hug in return.

Pinkie had come next. The poor pink pony said not a word, but placed her front hooves about Twilight's neck and held her close. When they pulled apart Pinkie's eyes were wide and full of sorrow, and Twilight was reminded how unequivocally the earth pony could encompass the extremes of the emotional spectrum. Her mane was pressed straight, as it often was at times like these, and delicate, periwinkle ribbons stitched the length.

And then she turned, and there was Rainbow Dash. The pegasus smiled hesitantly, her blue coat gleaming like the sky above. Twilight's breath caught as she saw her friend's mane: normally garish and ungroomed, it cascaded down her neck and back, even and flowing, with the tips curled and tressed to perfection. Most magnificent of all, though, were the colors. Every hue ran and mingled, blending in the sun until Twilight could not tell where one ended and another began. It was beautiful, remarkable, and... so unlike the pony she knew. Twilight opened her mouth to ask how, why, but Rainbow Dash moved forward and embraced her, and the opportunity was lost. It seemed to Twilight that Rainbow held her for a long time, but if such were the case the others seemed not to notice and said nothing. Either way, by then it was time for the service to begin. As the pegasus released her and settled by her side, Twilight found to her shame that she could not bring herself to meet those magenta eyes.

Ponies mourned in seasons, and the attire that Rarity had prepared for them reflected such. The stark contrasts of black and white were normally reserved for winter, as were various shades of grey, ice blue, and the occasional deep, charcoal-red. But winter was passed, and even at a funeral, spring bespoke life.

Pastels were the norm—greens and pinks and yellows and blues—and the solemnity of their purpose was marked in form and design rather than pigment; light and elegant, yet simple and reserved. Twilight was certain they were marvelous—Rarity had made them, of course they were marvelous—but she paid the accoutrements little attention. She felt restless, and her mind was elsewhere.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and immediately wished she hadn't. Her own dress, which was the same fathomless blue of midnight as her mane and by far the most somber of the lot, was accompanied by a matching veil of lace that tapered just beneath her eyes. Rarity had insisted that she wear it, but it shrouded her sight and caught against her mane whenever she moved. It seemed, in a word, unnecessary.

Her gaze resolved upon the large silver brazier that stood like a beacon high above them on the dais. The assembly this morning was small, it being reserved for friends and family of the deceased, but the crowd before it would swell quickly over the course of the day as the undoubtedly hundreds of ponies who would wish to pay their respects passed by with a word, a prayer, a tear. Only as the evening drew to a close and Princess Luna raised the moon would the ashes be released, proffered to the wind and the night.

Twilight sighed and ruffled the feathers of her wings in constrained agitation. It had been nearly three years since she had been given the gift of flight, and it had taken her the better part of that time to truly become accustomed to even the slight additional weight the appendages conveyed, let alone to flying itself. Lately, though, she had felt overcome by sudden instinctual, almost primal desires to spread her wings and fly as high and as fast as she could. She had read about the wild, often wayward tendencies of pegasi of course, but she was uncertain what effect, if any, she would experience after she had received her wings—she was still first and foremost a unicorn, after all. After two years had passed without even the slightest urge to randomly take to the skies, she had concluded smugly that it had been nil. Being friends with Rainbow Dash for so long should have taught her better.

Rainbow.

Her mind wavered on the name. Her wings quivered and her whole body tensed, and she had to fight down the impulse that screamed at her to fly, to soar, to... get away. She felt a light brush of feathers at her side, and she turned to see Rainbow looking at her, a small smile on her face. Twilight bit her lip; she could feel herself turning red, the look in Dash's eyes was so knowing. Those wistful eyes were the only calm thing about the pegasus, but she thought that they could see right through her.

It never gets any easier, Twilight.

“Twilight?”

Fluttershy's quiet prodding broke her reverie. Startled, she looked about to see every pony staring at her. She smiled sheepishly, licked her dry lips, nodded. It was time.

She climbed the steps to the top of the dais, pausing to look at the ashen-faced stallion who stood beside the brazier. A cobalt mane spilled from beneath the open-faced helmet that covered his head, and sweat beaded on his brow and ran down into his eyes, sunken and sleepless. He would stand vigil until the night came, she knew. She went to him, and he embraced her.

“Thank you for being here, Twilight,” he said softly.

She kissed his cheek. She would never be as tall as he was, but it seemed as though she didn't have to reach as far as she remembered. “Of course, big brother.”

As she began her speech, she realized she was thankful for the veil in the end. At least this way they couldn't see that her eyes were dry.

***

“No, I can't. I shouldn't. It wouldn't be right.”

The evening sun was warm against her back, but it traced a hard line across her brother's features; being here had changed him, Twilight realized. There was a stiffness about him, a hardness in his eyes that seemed to mirror the edges of the crystals that were everywhere around them. Smooth was a term that didn't find much use in the Empire, she reflected. And there were times, when he would move or turn and the light hit him just so, that she could swear she saw a flash, a shimmer in his coat or mane. She wondered absently if living amongst the crystal ponies could turn one brittle and fragile as well.

Because it couldn't be the death of a loved one, could it?

For all that, though, for all that had happened, her brother's voice was still as kind as it ever had been. “Right?” he repeated, hooves spread confusedly. “Twilight, Cadence helmed this legislation herself. She was its biggest proponent, and even Celestia signed off on it. Giving back rule of the Empire to the crystal ponies, letting them decide their own fate for the first time in generations... surely, they deserve that after all they've been through?”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—” She faltered. What could she say? Tell him the real reason she feared staying here?

Shining Armor mistook the cause for her hesitation as grief, of course. “Look, I know it's... it's been difficult.” He put his hoof around her and rested his head against her own. She could practically feel his exhaustion, could smell the heat of his breath, and the rest of him—a curious combination of the smokey torridity of magic mixed with freshly fallen snow. “But it would only be for a few months, until they can get all of this sorted out. It's what she would have wanted, Twilight.”

Why? Why did they always say that? It's what she would have wanted. Twilight looked up at him, at the small smile spread so thin that it was close to breaking, at the cool blue eyes that were a thousand miles away. How he had found the strength to build this facade of acceptance, she could not say. But it would not last forever. And me, brother? If I were gone, would you know what I'd have wanted? She thought she knew the answer.

She swallowed. And nodded. And nuzzled her head against his chest. Her horn glowed faintly as it brushed along his coat.

“The crystal ponies need someone to look up to right now,” Shining Armor went on. “Just as a figurehead, a pony who can be there as they take that step. You've helped them once already, and I know it would put them at ease just having you here again.” He lowered his head slightly to look her in the eyes. “Will you? If not for me, then for them?”

I would do anything for you, brother. It's her that... that...

She was your friend.

“Yes,” Twilight said. “I'll stay.”

***

The mind could be a lonely place in one's dreams.

The night was soft and still. Through an open window drifted the sparse sounds and smells of a world at rest, waiting for the morning to come again. A warm wind brought the memory of rain, and somewhere far afield a whippoorwill trilled, hidden amongst the rushes.

Her room was flooded by the dour luminescence of the moon, a shining crest in the darkness. Twilight lay awake in bed, ill at ease beneath its incessant gleam. Below the covers, she wrestled with her weariness.

Her mane was damp from the exertion. She pawed the loose strands from her eyes, shifting them so that they fell just to the left of her horn. Gone were the bangs she had often worn as a young mare, replaced by a single dusky wave that descended between her shoulders; it looked lurid in the moonlight.

Her breath came in stops and starts, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the flush that began in her face and neck, creeping down to her belly and finally between her thighs, where a hoof still lingered in resignation. The pleasure had passed, fleeting as always, and in its wake had come the swell of sweet nothingness that she craved nearly as much. But even that had begun to fade, and still sleep eluded her, and the peaceful emptiness began to hollow and harden as it turned to isolation and seclusion. She could taste a bile of shame at the back of her throat, and she fought to choke it down. At one time her dreams had been repose enough, but no longer.

And the mind can be a lonely place in one's dreams.

“Shut up, Luna.” She glowered at the broken orb in the sky. It gazed back serenely, altogether disinterested.

Another sleepless night. Twilight lay back against her pillow, staring dejectedly at the dark canopy of cloth above her. Ever since she had decided to stay in the Crystal Empire, sleep seemed to shun her more often than not. Most nights were like this one, with the effort leaving her exhausted and empty. She often thought about that day, when she had left directly from Ponyville to answer the Princess' summons and attend the ceremony that Cadence and her brother had been planning. I didn't have to go. I could have found an excuse. I could have stayed in Ponyville and spent the holiday with my friends. Even after what she had told them, even through her stubborn pride and embarrassment, all they had wanted was to be there for her, to help her.

Even Rainbow Dash...

But she hadn't. Like the good student she was, like the good sister, the good friend, she had come to hear the news that Cadence and Shining Armor had wanted so dearly to tell her in person. She remembered their excitement vividly—the bated breath, the rapturous smiles beaming at her from ear to ear, the way they stood, pressed so close to one another. Even now, almost five months later, the memory of those smiles haunted her.

Because you left. You couldn't stand to see them so happy, so you ran away. You left without even saying goodbye.

Twilight ground her teeth as she tried to push the thoughts away. She shivered, wings stirring in her unquiet as she looked through the open window at the moon hanging lonely in the dark above. The pallid light dimmed briefly as a few scattered trails of cloud drifted past, borne on some invisible current of the evening.

“I had to go,” she said, gazing up at the silent moon. “I had duties; in Canterlot, in Ponyville. And I came back. I did, I...”

But you weren't here when it really mattered.

In the vexatious manner of pegasi to which she was becoming so accustomed, she knew what she was going to do the instant before it happened. With one fluid movement she slipped from the bed and glided to the window, her front hooves poised upon the ledge. She paused only a moment before leaping into the night.

She arced upward, toward the clouds in their heavens. The wind echoed in her ears as she ascended, the blood in the veins of her wings pounding and pulsing as their feathers drank greedily at the air. She felt a stillness steal over her as she flew, a calmness of both mind and body.

Higher, it told her.

Up here, it was unlikely that her solitude would be intruded upon: pegasi were something of an oddity in the Empire. True, some had relocated here for one reason or another, and through the generations there had been the occasional naturally-born crystal pegasi or unicorn, but the Crystal Empire always had been, and was likely to remain, comprised mainly of earth ponies. Many scholars held the belief that the crystal ponies and the place they called home were possessed of a strange symbiosis, and that both owed their existence in no small part to the esoteric inner-magics of the earth ponies. In another time, another Twilight would have loved nothing more than to spend endless nights delving into their history and secrets, pouring over every cracked, dusty binding she could get her hooves on. How long ago that seemed. Now, she knew only one calling.

Fly.

...and forget.

The world began to fall away. Spring had come late to the Empire, as it often did in the north, and she could see the remnants of winter clinging gravely to the surrounding landscape. Patches of snow and frost encircled immense columns of ice, towering upward as they defied the changing seasons to the last. Even at night they wept, slowly fading like poison being drawn from a wound. In the vast distance, the mountains of the Far North cut their jagged way across the horizon in ominous perpetuity.

Higher.

She touched the clouds, grey and guarded by the darkness. The droplets licked at her as she passed through them, and soon her coat and mane glistened and she was chilled to the bone. The cold only made her smile, and press on. Not for the first time, Twilight marveled that she could manipulate the vapor at a whim, and the particles would collapse or coalesce as they acquiesced to her thought and touch. She thrashed her laden wings, clearing the nebula as she plunged upward into the night.

Higher. Farther. Fly.

Her horn was coated with rime, and she could feel her feathers begin to freeze and stiffen as the frigid air threatened to consume her. Each breath was a struggle and burned with the cold, and her lungs ached in protest with every effort. There was nothing before her but the great black gulf of absolute night, the only things piercing the darkness the small, sequestered stars. And the moon, crescentic and looming, staidly reflecting its sad, stolen light. She was above the world, above the clouds, above the sky itself. All was silence and perfect stillness. And she could go no further.

The pony turned her back on the moon and the stars, closed her wings, and fell.

In a way, falling was even better than flying. There was no effort—only freedom, and a sense of helpless abandon as gravity took her in its grasp. It was so easy, too easy, but she didn't care. All she had to do was let go, and within seconds she could feel the wonderful recklessness of the fear and fervor that came with speed.  It was a speed, she found herself thinking, that only one pegasus could hope to match.

A laugh. “This? As fast as me?”

The voice came as no surprise, though Twilight knew to have heard it was an impossibility. But there she was beside her, the pegasus who was every part a storm: her mane was lightning, her wings thunder, her coat the rain that filled the sky. And her eyes, eyes that were the troubled peace that always came after. There was the ghost of a smile on her lips, and she glided nearer as she chided Twilight softly. “Only in your dreams.”

Only in your dreams. Ah, but of course. Twilight smiled inwardly, and without any fuss the cold disappeared and the wind was silenced, though still she fell. She looked below her and saw that the ground remained, distant but creeping ever closer. Dreams were such a strange thing—they were so real, until they weren’t. All it might take was an inkling, a quiet perception, and suddenly the real and the not-so-real became distinct, and though by then you knew the truth still you might find those in your dreams who could never be there otherwise. And seldom are they the ones we truly wish to see.

“But perhaps, just the ones we need to,” her phantom-friend whispered, or thought, or dreamed as well.

“If only I could be what you wanted me to be,” Twilight said. She sincerely hoped that whatever Rainbow Dash found in her dreams was kinder than her own. Do I fly beside you every night? Do you at least have that much? In the fickle, absurd logic that ruled this corner of the mind, one could find everything they ever wanted or everything they ever feared. All too often it seemed, those things became one and the same.

“And what do you want?”

The princess pondered as the two ponies fell through the sky. “I... I don't know. I want... I want everything to be the way it was. I want to be with my friends again, and forget everything that's happened. I want to go away from here. The Empire. I want to go…” The last word caught in her throat. Home. And where was that?

“I think you know,” Rainbow said quietly.

Yes, and that’s what I’m afraid of. “I should be with him right now, and instead I’m running away. Like last time. Like I always do.”

“What happened to Cadence wasn't your fault. You weren't there—”

“But I could have been! I should have been. He needed me then more than ever, and I wasn’t there.”

“But you could be there now.”

She could. Oh, how many times she had resolved to go to him, to reassure him that the world hadn’t fallen away in the night, and that though he had been robbed of so much there would always be a pony there for him. But every time she saw him she could not help but also see how much closer he was to breaking, and instead of feeling pity or sympathy or remorse on his behalf, the only thing she felt was want, want, want. And desire was a filthy substitute for compassion.

“Rainbow,” Twilight began, and there was a strange mix of languor and yearning in her voice, a fatigue of the soul that was so complete it could only be felt in a dream. “When you’re flying, and it’s time to land and you begin your descent, do you ever think about the fall? I mean, what comes after. What would happen at the end.” She smiled dryly. “Of course, you already know what would happen. You would never do it. But you can’t help but think about it, about what if, what if. What if you should fall?”

“Please,” Rainbow murmured. “Please, don’t say…”

“I think about it sometimes,” Twilight said, paying her no mind as she continued. “And I have these wings, and all I would have to do is open them, let the wind catch them, and everything would be fine. But I’m afraid, because what if I don’t? It would be so easy to just fly away, but somehow there’s always a chance… I might not. I might not.”

She looked at the mare beside her, and in those eyes she could see that her words had cut deep. Even in a dream, some things were so hard to say. “But what scares me most of all is the possibility that I simply don’t care. Not caring, knowing I don’t care—that would be the worst part, I think. The choices we make don’t mean much, not when all they are is a decision of whether to harm ourselves or another. Either way pain is caused, regardless of our intentions. Fly or fall, it doesn’t really matter in the end. We’re all headed to the same place, and we’ll all reach it eventually. It makes no difference how, or when, or why.”

The pegasus was shaking her head, disbelieving. Twilight thought for a moment that there might have been tears in her eyes, but no, that was silly. Dream or not, Rainbow Dash didn’t cry.

“I never wished for these wings. I wish they would have gone to someone more deserving, to a pony who had less than I did. What a difference that could have made in a life, had they not been wasted on me. My hooves belong on the ground, and my feelings belong to no one but myself. I don’t belong up here, any more than I belong with him.” She could see the ground clearly now, ascending quickly from the deep below. Soon the sun would rise over the land and the shadows would fade, making way for another day. The thought saddened her, and she did not know why.

“It matters,” Rainbow Dash replied. “Maybe not to you, but to the ones that love you. You matter—to your friends, to your brother. To me. We will not let you go.” The pegasus unfurled her long, slender wings, and they shone with the light of the stars. “Whether you choose to fly or not makes no difference to me,” her friend said as she reached out to embrace her. “I have wings enough for us both. And I will not let you fall.”

Yes, you will, Twilight thought. Because you’re just a dream. The pony that had been at her side was gone, and she was alone. And in our dreams, there’s only ever one way to wake up.

The ground spread wide and hard and cold as it reached up to meet her.

***

She startled into wakefulness, as if slipping from one nightmare to the next. Her hooves shook uncontrollably, though the room was only cool, and she hastened to cover herself with a tangled blanket as the loose memories of the dream and what she had done before trickled back to her. There was a light, warm pulse below her belly, echoed in her throat, and she held herself tight to ward off the shame and the chill. There she lay, shaking as the minutes dragged by.

But there was only so warm a pony could make themselves on their own. With one final lasting glance at the moon, Twilight climbed from beneath the canopy and left her bedroom behind.

The royal chambers were not far from her own, which perhaps was for the best, lest she lose her nerve. There were no guards at the entrance, Shining Armor having dismissed them from that duty once he remained as the sole occupant. The door was ajar, and Twilight hesitated only slightly before entering.

She stopped just beyond the threshold. Hanging above the bed was a large chandelier, crystalline and translucent as glass. Three small, candle-less flames burned steadily in their sconces. The blue fire cast an eerily profound light across the room, and Twilight lowered her gaze to the lone figure below, watching as the glow danced across his gleaming white coat. In the gloom, her brother looked as tenuous as a ghost.

Slowly, quietly, nervously, she took two tentative steps forward, and then another, and another, until she was sitting on the bed beside his sleeping form. His mane was matted with sweat, as was much of his coat. From time to time the long cords of muscle in his legs twitched just beneath the skin. She wrinkled her nose as the cloying scent of alcohol drifted up to her, and for a long time she did nothing but watch as his chest rose and fell. She wanted so much to touch him, to feel him, to touch her hoof to his and to lay her head against his chest. So much...

Brother. I can't do this. I don't know how.

Want would only hurt him in the end. “I'm sorry,” Twilight said. “But this is all I can give you.” She reached down and gingerly touched the tip of her horn to his. There was a dull spark, and with it went all the feelings, all of the memories, all of the good emotions she could conjure up for him. His eyes tightened in sleep, but otherwise he did not stir. She rose from his side and silently padded to the door.

“Please, don't go.”

Twilight turned around. Her brother's blue eyes were wide awake, burning with the reflection of the flames. They met her own with a quiet desperation.

“Please,” he repeated. “I don't want you to leave too. I lost her, I lost them both, and now I... I don't, I can't...” His mumbling turned slurred and broken, and soon his sight was smeared by the tears he couldn't hold back any longer. “I don't want to be alone.”

Cadence, forgive me. Twilight was beside him again in a heartbeat, holding him close. “No,” she soothed. “Shh, shh, Shine, it's okay, shh, don't worry. I'm here. I'm here.” She drew his head to her breast and ran a hoof through his mane as he shook and sobbed and pleaded. “You're not alone. You're not alone.”

They lay there as the moments stretched on, and eventually he strayed back into an uneasy sleep. Twilight disentangled herself from his embrace long enough to spread a sheet over them both. She folded her hooves beneath herself and curled around him so that his head rested against her side. Her own she lay next to his, brushing the wetness on his cheeks as she nestled as close as she could get. “Neither of us belong here,” she whispered. She laid a downy wing across him, so that it might protect him from whatever should come in the night. For you there's too much pain, and for me, well... I would only add to it.

His tears fell through the night as he slept and woke and slept again, and she gently kissed them away until the dawn.