Rise of the Phoenix Empress

Chapters

Accidents
Abiotrophy
Ascension

Accidents

I murdered Princess Celestia. I betrayed her and usurped her throne. Now, I rule over Equestria as her successor, beloved by all her former subjects. They do not know of my crimes.

I am the Phoenix Empress. Her Imperial Highness, Sunbeam of House Sparkle, first of my name. And this is my confession.

Celestia once told me that great things often come from humble beginnings. A mere glassblower’s daughter rises to become the most powerful mare in Equestria, casting down nobles, warlords, and even a goddess in the course of her journey. A single pebble tossed into a pond causes ripples that flow across the surface of an entire lake.

A snowball fight sets in motion the chain events that will lead the death of Celestia.

To be fair, this particular snowball fight was far more than an idle diversion; it was training for my daughter. Midnight’s natural talents lie in cryomancy, so a mock battle of snow and ice was a fine way to develop her skills. She learned the basics of offense and defense, and gained familiarity with her element of choice.

At the time, I was merely the Archmagus of Canterlot and Grand Vizier to Celestia. Those two ranks arguably made me the most powerful mortal pony in all Equestria in the aftermath of the Lunar Rebellion, and I was quite content with that position. If I were to offer any complaint on the matter, it would be that Shadow Kicker, Lady Protector of Equestria, often seemed more powerful in practice. Though her formal power was less defined than mine, she had Celestia’s ear. Thankfully, she almost never used her influence in ways that were counter to my own interests.

However, the Lady Protector had no place in my mind at that time, for Midnight fully occupied my attention. My daughter and I are a study in contrasts: my coat is a shade of blue so light it is often mistaken for pure white, where Midnight’s is—rather fittingly—a deep midnight blue. Her mane and tail called to mind the appearance of fresh ice, while my own red and gold locks had the semblance of an open flame. I was of a choleric temperament, while my daughter tended towards melancholic moods. Even our magical talents seemed in opposition to one another: my daughter’s skill in cryomancy compared to my own inclination towards pyromancy. The marks our talents e’en reflected that difference: an open flame, and a snowflake, though Midnight’s was only recently acquired.

However, surface appearances are often so simple as to be deceptive. Consider, for example, our talents in magic. Fire and ice are often declared to be in opposition to one another, but my own studies have shown that this is not so. Ultimately, fire and ice are both just a matter of manipulating heat: either concentrating a great deal of it, or simply moving it away. Regardless of the result, the methods used to achieve it are almost entirely the same.

Thus, our current exercise.

I conjured a projectile, and directed towards the scampering young filly who sought to evade my aim. Just as I’d set my aim and prepared to strike, Midnight dove behind a tree, effectively blocking my lines of attack. The Canterlot Royal gardens featured enough cover to make for a useful training area, and were conveniently located relative to the Archmagus’ tower.

‘Twas a minor annoyance—the objective of this exercise was to refine her magic, not enhance her mundane dodging skills. Still, agility exercises had their place too; a magus who utterly neglects their physical training is naught but a fool. Not all attacks can be magically deflected, and even when magical defenses will suffice, there will be times when one’s magic would be better served by directing it towards another purpose.

Thankfully, my daughter was not so physically adept that I could not simply predict her course and compensate for her movements. The projectile struck her upon the muzzle and promptly dissipated into a mess of powdery white snow that scattered all over her mane and face. Though Midnight had adequately protected herself against the cold, enough snow entered her nose that she had to sneeze several times to clear it. That did nothing to diminish the small but undeniably present smile ‘pon her face.

“Midnight,” I chided, “Thou didst not e’en attempt to defend thyself. Do recall that this is a training exercise, not a game.”

“Can it not be both?” My daughter inquired as she set about preparing her own counterstrike. “Learning and enjoyment are not mutually exclusive goals.”

“They are not, but one must be mindful of priorities in the matter.” Since we began this particular training regimen, I have often felt that my daughter enjoyed herself far too much in these games. Though an entertaining lesson can often settle in a student’s mind far more effectively than yet another unengaging lecture, one must take care that the entertainment does not o’ershadow the lesson. Though Midnight was far better-disciplined than most ponies her age, she remained a filly at heart and was thus easily distracted from her work when given a chance for idle play.

Midnight hurled her own projectile towards me, which I easily blocked by conjuring an ice barrier. When next I struck, she produced a half-formed barrier of snow that did not stop my snowball completely, but did succeed in deflecting its course enough that it failed to strike her. As she was not struck, I counted it as her victory. “Well done, Midnight. Now, canst thou penetrate my defense?”

My daughter frowned in thought, sitting upon the snow as she considered her options. Experience told her that a straightforward conventional attack was unlikely to succeed. I have gone into battle against cultists, warlocks, and the very avatar of Nightmare Moon herself; a mere snowball would never break my shields unless I allowed it. If I was to be beaten, it would take something on a grander scale.

Midnight had apparently reached the same conclusion, as she began her casting and I felt the snowbank shift beneath me. Soon a veritable wave of snow rose up from the ground gathering together and slowly moving forward to engulf me. A conventional shield might hold the mass of snow at bay, but it would also ensure that I would be buried to the tip of my horn. That was hardly an ideal solution. Thankfully, I had other means of countering the attack.

As the wave descended a curtain of flame met it, not merely melting it but converting the snow to steam, which I quickly directed upwards and away from the both of us. My daughter’s face slowly shifted from hopeful grin to annoyed pout as she realized her attack had been foiled. “But mother!” She protested, “You gave your word that you would not use pyromancy in these exercises!”

“I did not use pyromancy,” I countered. “I used cryomancy, but reversed the process.”

If I were to judge by the frown on her face, Midnight did not find my reasoning convincing. “But you always say cryomancy is naught but pyromancy inverted.” Her face contorted in thought as she considered the matter, no doubt attempting to construct some form of logical trap for me. “Is this your way of saying that you do not wish for me to use cryomancy?”

Rather than debate semantics, a topic which Midnight is at times aggravatingly well-versed in for a filly of her age, I opted to alter the discussion. “Mayhaps instead we should take as a warning that there will be times when thy opponents will use dishonest tactics.”

“But I know that already.” My daughter gave a discontented grumble and sat once more, clearly having lost interest in our training exercise after being unfairly cheated of her victory. Rather than set her mind to finding another way to overcome my defenses, she put her magic to work on gathering up a large mass of snow and forming it into a miniature likeness of Mount Avalon, then set to work putting Canterlot in place on the mountain’s side.

Despite Midnight’s obvious loss of interest, I was not prepared to let the matter drop yet. I caught her eyes and delivered a challenging smirk. “If thou didst know the danger of perfidy, then why didst thou fail to anticipate that I might use pyromancy?”

My daughter thought carefully on the matter as she completed her recreation of Canterlot. Once the city and royal palace were completed, she set to work recreating the Lunar siege camp that had surrounded the city a mere year ago. ‘Twould seem that memories of the war yet lingered in my daughter’s mind. Mayhaps her unusual choice in regard to her artistic endeavour had caught my attention, as I was quite unprepared for her response to my question. “Because thou art my mother, and I trust thy word.“

Trust. One of the rarest and most precious commodities in all the world, and yet given away all too readily by children. I did not know whether to be concerned by my daughter’s naivete in granting me her trust so easily, or honored that she felt me worthy of it. Regardless, the simple, matter-of-fact manner in which she delivered her statement, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, struck a chord with me. “Perhaps we have learned enough for the day.”

I settled into place next to my daughter, and after a moment’s consideration began adding further details to her creation. While my daughter is a skilled cryomancer, she does not yet have the delicate touch needed to manage a perfect recreation of Canterlot and its surrounding environs. Though I expected she would one day equal or perhaps e’en exceed my achievements, for the moment her raw potential was insufficient to match my far greater experience in the magical arts.

Midnight turned her mind fully to the task at hoof, seeming determined to match my contributions to her latest project. As she worked her magic, she slowly shifted her own position, until her back rested against my chest. As she settled into her new position, one of my forelegs moved of its own accord, gently wrapping itself over her chest in an embrace. The gesture brought a smile to Midnight’s face, and I decided to leave my limb in that position.

I confess, I had grown far fonder of Midnight than I ever would have expected when first she came into my life. Her arrival was most unexpected, and I was ill-prepared for the trials of raising a newborn foal, especially absent a second pony to share the burden. More than once, after having been woken in the wee hours of the morning by her cries, I had been tempted to be done with her. ‘Twas not uncommon for mares of my station to simply leave the raising of children entirely in the hooves of servants.

However, I had persisted in rearing her as best I could whilst attending my other duties as Archmagus and Grand Vizier. With any other ruler the task might have been impossible, but Celestia seemed quite willing to make allowances for Midnight’s rearing. Somehow, I had grown quite attached to the young filly o’er the years she had been in my care. Of all the titles I so eagerly sought and claimed, I had never thought I would place any value ‘pon one that most mares would come to possess: ‘Mother.’

I was rudely jarred from my thoughts as a snowball struck the back of my head. The triumphant grin adorning my daughter’s face made the cause plain enough. ‘Twould seem that my brief moment of sentimental distraction had left me vulnerable. That would not do.

With a single spell, a dozen fresh snowballs came into being, each targeted at a young filly who was beginning to grasp what a dangerous foe she’d roused. “Well played, my daughter. However, since thou art so eager to resume thy lessons let us begin by redressing the balance.”

Enjoyable as teaching my daughter was, my duties as Archmagus and Grand Vizier required my attention. As such, I attended to Queen Celestia at court.

Neigh, ‘twas Princess Celestia now. I still did not grasp the reasoning behind her choice of title. Unicornia had been a kingdom in its own right, yet when the unified Equestrian crown was established she took the title of princess—a demotion, on the scales of nobility. If anything, she should have styled herself as the Empress of Equestria. ‘Twas only proper, now that her royal authority extended over all three pony tribes. However, the Princess’ mind was set on the matter.

I have always possessed rather mixed feelings regarding my attendance at court. The opportunities for intrigue and advancement within Celestia’s palace were considerable, and I was indisputably a master at the games ponies played. However, since the Lunar Rebellion my taste for court intrigue had soured. I suspect it had less to do with any distaste for politics in general—rather, I had become a victim of my own success. All my enemies lay beaten and destroyed, and those few goals which I had not yet attained simply required time to bring to fruition. Shadow was the only mare who could challenge my standing in Celestia’s eyes, and she rarely cared to do so. On those occasions when our desires clashed, we had developed the rather distressing habit of meeting and amicably resolving them. Sensible and pragmatic, true, but some tiny part of me yet missed the battles we fought in earlier times.

My position simply provided few challenges, in this age. Implementing my grand plans did not provide the same joy that crafting them had produced. It was satisfying to see my will done, but much like the rebels I had so recently helped to destroy, I found that attending to the many small details of leadership was a wearisome task. I had given thought to attempting to seduce Celestia or Shadow, but they favored one another’s company over mine. I did not credit the rumors that they were engaged in some illicit liaison, though. Both thought themselves too noble for such a thing. Rather than pursue their clear mutual desires, they would let the barriers of rank and position stand betwixt them whilst they suffered nobly through the love they both desired, but had deluded themselves into thinking they could not have.

More fools, they.

If the noble pining of Princess and Protector was the greatest trial of court life, I might have been content to suffer through it. Sadly, there was another, far greater blight within the palace.

The nobility.

I’ve always found the entire concept of inherited aristocratic families lacking in any form of logic or reason. Certainly, some traits were inherited through bloodlines, but history has shown time and again that a pony is far more than the sum of their ancestors. Great statesmares give birth to fools and wastrels, while others such as I come from the humblest of origins, yet attain far greater heights than those of better breeding.

I had been sorely tempted to refuse when Celestia named me Countess of Shetland. In the end, I had accepted the title out of simple pragmatism; whatever my dislike of the institution as a whole, possession of a noble title was useful for my current purposes. It granted me a new measure of respect, ensured my lasting legacy, and lulled the nobles into a false sense of security regarding my intentions. Let them hold their delusions that a mere title would end my plans to destroy their power.

Sadly, the greatest moments of my master plan had already been implemented. Private armies and levies had been incorporated into the Princess’ Royal Guard as a temporary wartime emergency measure, which naturally became quite permanent after the war’s end. New taxes were levied, and traditional rights and privileges revoked under the same reasoning. Though the nobility still existed as a distinct political class, their capacity to threaten the crown’s authority was near to nonexistent. Most were now dependent on the crown for various offices and honors simply to provide for their livelihood.

Before I reached the age of retirement, I fully intended to reduce the nobles to fighting one another over who would provide a servant’s duties to Celestia herself. It seemed a fitting end to them, to linger on with empty titles as they schemed and plotted to determine which of them would have the honor of wiping Celestia’s arse.

To my current dismay, my plans simply required too much time to bring to fruition. The process was, barring a radical shift in Equestrian politics in the next few decades, as inevitable as the rising and setting of the sun, but it could not be done with excessive haste. Tighten the noose too swiftly, and one’s enemy might grasp that a hanging is imminent.

Thus, I would be forced to endure the prattling of fools who only held a position at court by virtue of their ancestry. At least there would be other magi there alongside the nobles. Sadly, politics being what they were, every other magus looked to me with hungry eyes, coveting the office of Archmagus. My every word and action would be weighed and measured, searching for a sign of a weakness to exploit, or barring that a sign of who I might favor as a successor. Little did they know that I fully intended to retain the title until my daughter had sufficient age and experience to inherit it.

The business of the royal court moved slowly, this day. The official matter before the Princess was a number of appointments to minor offices. I had already discussed the matter with her and Shadow both, and a list of candidates had been approved. What passed today was merely a formality, so long as no unexpected complications arose from the discussion. Thus far, none had.

So it was that I found myself in place at Celestia’s left hoof, listening to the slow drone of court procedure. The raised dais upon which the throne rested provided me with a fine view of the entire room, save for the angle blocked by decorative columns. Candidates were called forward. Credentials were discussed, decisions announced, and oaths sworn. It was a laborious but unfortunately necessary part of rulership. In earlier times I might have at least found some diversion in brief stolen conversations with Celestia, but now Shadow sat at her right hoof, quietly exchanging words with her. No doubt their conversation was punctuated with many lingering looks of forlorn longing and similar foolishness.

Though perhaps there was some silver lining to the matter, as their preoccupation with one another left me free to cast my eyes and ears about the court. Only a fool would think to discuss the Archmagus of Canterlot within her very presence, but one of the hidden virtues of the current system of inherited nobility is that it left court with an appreciable population of fools. Though the two stallions I took note of at least had sense enough to speak to one another in hushed whispers, they did not have sense enough to realize that a magus has means of overhearing such conversations.

“—gone soft,” the taller of the two stated.

“Surely not,” his companion answered. “For any other mare I might believe it, but Sunbeam the Foalslayer? Never.”

Ah. ‘Twould seem the shadow of that incident yet lingered over my reputation. In truth, the whole situation was much exaggerated. ‘Tis an unpleasant but inevitable truth that collateral damage occurs when powerful mages do battle with one another. I took no pleasure in the child’s death, nor my own role in causing it, but had I not sacrificed the young colt’s life in the course of stopping his mad warlock of a father, many more would have perished. Those who are quick to feel moral outrage at some of my more questionable acts always seem to forget that those actions, unpleasant as they might seem, were ultimately for the good of all Equestria.

However, now was not the time to linger on things long past and best forgotten. The fools continued their conversation. “I swear it. The mare who was once the terror of Trottingham is now naught but a doting mother! When didst thou last hear of her going forth to slay a warlock, or burning down a group of brigands? I cannot recall her taking the field since the war’s end. Neigh, instead she whiles away her days spoiling that strange daughter of hers. ‘Tis enough to make one wonder if her magical abilities have been damaged in some way...”

Ah. So that was the topic of their discussion. Ponies are endlessly confusing, at times. If I go out into the world, I am little better than the monsters I hunt. Now I spend my days governing and training my daughter in the ways of magic, and am naught but a tired old dotard. Aggravating.

Still, for all the foolishness of the conversation, their sentiments were of some small concern to me. In truth, I had been so occupied by my duties to the crown and Midnight’s instruction that I had not done a proper magus’ work for some time. ‘Twould not do to have my enemies think I had grown old, weak, and soft-hearted. I would need to find a way to demonstrate that I was still every bit the fearsome magus my reputation suggested, lest the appearance of weakness provoke my enemies.

Care would need to be taken with my chosen target, though. Midnight was displeased when I was absent for extended periods. So, something that would not require an overnight absence. Or I could make plans to face some threat minor enough that I could safely bring Midnight along, and make a learning experience of it. Perhaps I could even—

My line of thought came to an abrupt end as I grasped its current direction.

I would never have imagined it before, but was it possible that there might actually be some small measure of truth to their words? Why else would I concern myself so much with tending my daughter’s needs?

This would not do. I would need to put further thought into my relationship with Midnight, and what adjustments might be required.

I confess the matter lingered on my mind for the rest of the day, e’en as the business of court continued around me. I did not brood over it or allow it distract me from other matters, but whenever my mind sat idle for too long, the thought entered once more. Had I grown so comfortably at ease with my daughter that I had allowed her undue influence over my actions?

The matter preyed upon my mind so heavily that I was taken somewhat unawares when Celestia spoke to me. “How does thy daughter’s training proceed, Sunbeam?” Due to my state of distraction, Celestia was forced to repeat her question, and then lightly rest a hoof upon my shoulder to gain my attention before echoing herself once more.

“My apologies, Your Highness. I was lost in thought.” Not that her inquiry as to my daughter’s training did anything to draw my mind away from my current dilemma with young Midnight. “Midnight’s training proceeds quite well. I have been at work developing her skills in cryomancy and defensive magic. Her progress is satisfactory.” A confident smile slid onto my face with practiced ease despite my current concerns. “If she continues at her current pace, I have every confidence that she will match or exceed my record for the youngest pony to claim the title of Archmagus.”

Celestia gave a single satisfied nod, then had her attention claimed by one of the many noble parasites that populate Canterlot. However, it seemed that our brief exchange had drawn the attention of another. “Let us hope you are correct in that, Sunbeam.” The aged croak to his voice gave away the identity of the speaker e’en before I turned to face him. Tempus Fugit, Archmagus of the Southern March. A stallion who, between his advanced age and the fact that his talents lay in a questionable area of the magical arts, would normally never have become an Archmagus. However, the Lunar Rebellion had taken a heavy toll on our ranks. Of those magi who hailed from the Southern March, he had the best qualifications for the post of Archmagus. More importantly, his political views were in alignment with my own.

Tempus being the best choice reflected poorly on our available pool of candidates. He had been quite content as a researcher far away from the troubles of the world—no doubt he hoped that another candidate for the post would arise, allowing him to return to his laboratory in peace.

Tempus turned to me, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “More’s the pity that I don’t imagine you intend your daughter to become Archmagus of the Southern March. Well, unless you intend to give her another post before having her succeed you.”

“I have another candidate in mind for the Southern March,” I answered simply. “I pray it will be many years before he must take the post.” Daylight Shimmer was a skilled magus—not that I would have expected anything else considering his parentage—but he was some years away from being ready to succeed Tempus. Still, I had been Daylight’s patron from his earliest days amongst the magi; I had every confidence that he would prove a valuable asset.

“So,” Tempus inquired. “You are training your daughter in shields now? A fine thing, and I am glad to hear it proceeds well.” A troubled frown crossed his face. “An important thing for an apprentice to learn. Very important. One of the simplest things we expect our apprentices to manage, yet a single error could cost them their lives.” His ears went flat and tone turned mournful. “As happened to poor Second Chance.”

It took a moment to call to mind the mare he spoke of. An apprentice of his who had died during the war. I did not recall the details of how she had passed, but from Tempus’ reaction I presumed that her defensive spells had failed in some way. That, or she had fallen afoul of one of the mage hunters. Far too many of my magi met their end at the tips of cold iron lances; the magebane metal made a mockery of most standard protections. ‘Twas why I sought to instruct Midnight in using her cryomancy to construct physical barriers rather than rely on pure magic as a defense. Though the forces calling the ice into being might be magical, the ice itself was mundane in nature, and thus deflected cold iron weapons quite effectively.

Rather than allow him to linger in melancholy, I politely inquired after his new apprentice. ‘Twas not a matter of great concern to me, but given the discussion of Midnight, not asking after his own student might be seen as a slight. “How fares ... Vital Force, was it?”

The question had the desired effect of ending his poor mood, as his troubled frown shifted to a proud smile. ‘Tis no secret that most magi regard their apprentices’ accomplishments as a testament to their own skills. “He learns quickly. Quite quickly. His talents might lie in healing and restorative magics, but he still managed an acceptable shield with only a week’s effort. Quite impressive, especially since the spell is outside his natural talents.”

A week? Impossible. Inconceivable. I had spent two weeks at work with Midnight, and her efforts had only begun to bear fruit. I had met Vital Force in passing, and the colt had not struck me as a magical savant. In truth, I thought him rather undistinguished. Certainly lacking in the superlative qualities one would normally expect to find in an Archmagus’ personal student. At the time, I suspected that Tempus had chosen an apprentice of such middling ability so that he need not devote much attention to the young stallion’s education.

And yet, that colt of indifferent skill had mastered a talent in half the time it had taken my daughter. Neigh, Midnight had still not even mastered her defensive shields. I could scarcely believe it. Either I had grossly underestimated the colt, or...

I had allowed my fondness for Midnight to lessen the quality of her education. How much time in our lessons had been spent at idle play? Too much, if others were learning faster than her.

Measures would need to be taken. Extreme measures. Immediately.

We would begin my new lesson plan the next morning. As was often the case, I arose much earlier than my daughter. No doubt she had once more stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning, looking through one of her books. ‘Twas a common occurrence, and one I generally did little to discourage. If she was to one day take my place as Archmagus, she would need a firm grasp of magical theory. Once she had done enough field work to prove herself capable, I fully intended to have her do research work until she uncovered something suitably grand to seal her reputation.

Her late rising provided me with ample opportunity to finish my preparations. I did not expect to enjoy this new method as much as our previous one, and I certainly did not expect my daughter to, but such was the way of things. I did not teach her magic as a form of idle diversion, but to ensure that she would possess the skills needed to ensure her very survival. If given the freedom to chose their own path to knowledge, most children would be quite content to remain illiterate savages.

When my daughter finally joined me some hours after first light, she found a considerable breakfast awaiting her. She would need her strength for what was to come. She took her seat opposite me and attacked her meal with all the zeal one would expect from the young and growing. Thankfully, she at least did so with the etiquette one would expect from a child raised to survive in Canterlot’s Court. I confess, it had taken me some time to grasp all of the intricacies and I still found many of them needlessly complex and befuddling, but one does what one must to obtain and hold power. It matters little how foolish the game when the rewards for victory were so great.

Such considerations were why all those areas of the Archmagus’ tower in which I would ever entertain a guest were the very image of opulent luxury. Canterlot society places great deal of importance on displays of wealth and power, and thus I ensured that every visible surface in the tower had some preposterously expensive embellishment adorning it. However off-putting I found the display, appearances must be upheld. Thankfully, my daughter and I were currently in one of the few private areas of the tower, where I could safely do away with the gaudiness of high society and allow a more natural and comfortable level of luxury.

My daughter briefly paused in the course of consuming her meal, turning to me and speaking with her usual abrupt efficiency. “I have come to a decision, Mother. I would very much like to own a cat. Have I your permission to obtain one?”

“No,” I answered immediately. “Thou hast distractions enough from thy studies as it is. The feeding and care of an animal is an unneeded burden and a pointless waste of time that could be put to better uses.” Let us not even consider the possibility that she would be lax in attending its needs, and expect me to take up the burden.

“By your will, Mother.” Midnight returned to her meal, and there was no further discussion on the matter. Once my daughter completed her meal with her usual commendable efficiency, she remained seated, patiently waiting for me to instruct her as to our next activity. However, I noted a slight impatience to her demeanour, revealed by occasional fidgets and glances towards the door. Normally, such eagerness to resume her training would have been commendable, but now I wondered whether she truly considered our recent activities training at all.

“Midnight.” Speaking her name instantly drew her attention to me. “We will continue thy training in the defensive arts this day.” She left her chair and crossed half the distance to the doorway before I could utter the next sentence. “However, this lesson will not involve going outdoors.”

“Oh.” She paused, her ears slowly flattening as a very faint frown crossed her face. “Very well then, Mother. What are we to study?”

“As I said, we will endeavour to improve thy skills in defensive magics. If thou dost properly apply thyself to the task, I am certain thou shalt master the lesson ere the day is out.”

My daughter considered the matter briefly, then offered a single nod. “If that is your wish, Mother, then I shall see it done.”

“I have never doubted that.” The remark drew a small, uncertain smile to my daughter’s lips as we proceeded to the training area I had prepared. “Midnight, have I ever told of my own experience in learning defensive shields?”

My daughter pursed her lips in thought. “I cannot recall you ever speaking of it, Mother. ‘Tis possible that you have, and my memory is failing me in the matter. If that be the case, then I apologize.”

“Fear not, for ‘tis unlikely I would have spoken to thee on the matter.” My apprenticeship with Cast Iron had not been a pleasant experience, nor one I cared to discuss. Though his instruction had been highly effective, his methods were harsh. Cast Iron had once declared that every drop of blood shed in training prevented ten from falling in the field. If that were true, then ‘twas likely I owed him my life several times over.

Still, his methods proved effective, and there were far worse masters one could be apprenticed to. ‘Twas not unheard of for masters to freely make use of their apprentice’s flesh for pleasures once they came of an age where such things were not excessively distasteful—a practice I did not care for, and had gone to some effort to end. Thankfully, I had been spared such indignities. Cast Iron was not a kind teacher, but he was never cruel.

“I mastered my defensive magics after a mere two days of instruction,” I informed my daughter.

My daughter’s eyes grew wide with surprise and admiration. “Truly? How did you manage to attain such skill so quickly?” Her eagerness faded slightly, and a small hint of shame crept into her voice. “We have been at our lessons for two weeks, and I have not yet matched your accomplishments. I am sorry, Mother, and I will work harder.”

“The fault does not lie with thee, daughter,” I reassured her. “If a student fails to learn, one should first look to the instructor as the cause. Since our previous methods proved less effective than I would have hoped, we will alter them in order to speed thy learning.”

She turned to me, curiosity lighting her eyes. “How, then, did your own master teach you? He did not throw snowballs, I presume. After all, your talents do not lie in cryomancy, and ‘twas some time before you grasped how best to unlock that particular art. What method, then, did you use? What did he throw to test your shields?”

“Knives,” I answered simply.

“Kn-knives?” My daughter swallowed, and took a half-step away from me. “Th-that would allow little room for error.”

“Thus, the great speed with which I learned.” In fairness to my former instructor, Cast Iron, had aimed his throws very carefully. A mortal wound teaches nothing, and a grievous one would require long periods of recovery between lessons. Those times my defenses failed produced only a small amount of pain and blood, but ‘twas quite effective in motivating me to greater efforts.

My daughter’s eyes travelled up and down my body, as if seeking some hidden scars of my lesson. “Wert thou wounded during thine instruction?”

I chose not to comment on my daughter’s sudden lapse into more informal methods of speaking; there were more important at hoof. “I was not harmed in any lasting way.”

My daughter paused, directing a nervous glance towards me. “I must admit that I am uncertain whether my shields are advanced to a point where they could withstand a knife.”

“I do not think it wise to test the matter in such a way.” Cast Iron’s skills in ferromancy allowed him to manipulate his knives with far more precision than I could hope to manage with mere telekinesis. ‘Tis rather difficult to control objects in motion, especially if their movements are particularly erratic and unpredictable. “We will not test thy shields with knives, now or at any point in the future. I would not risk seriously harming thee as a part of our lessons.”

Midnight let out a relieved breath at the news, the tension ebbing from her shoulders. “I am glad to hear it. I have never been stabbed, but judging by the reactions of those who have been ‘tis a most unpleasant experience.” Curiosity soon o’ertook her, and she asked. “What will we be using, then? ‘Tis plain that you intend something other than snowballs, else there would be no need to depart from our standard procedures.”

“You are quite correct in that.” I said nothing more until we arrived at the room I had prepared for the day’s training exercise. ‘Twas a relatively small area which was normally used for storage, but once the contents were removed and the floor cleared it was quite adequate for my purposes. It was not so small that my daughter and I would feel cramped, but Midnight would not have enough room to run and dodge. I had spread a bit of sawdust over the floor to deal with any blood, and set an appropriate stockpile of medical supplies off to the side. It was sensible to be prepared for the consequence of the upcoming lesson. “We will be using rocks for this exercise.”

“R-rocks?” Midnight hesitantly stepped forward, approaching the large bucket of rocks I had prepared for the exercise. Her ears went flat at the sight of them, and she removed one particularly large and jagged one, blanching slightly at the sight of it. “I do not wish to question the wisdom of your plan, Mother, but these look like they would hurt if they were to strike me.”

“That, my daughter, is precisely what they are meant to do.” I turned to her and offered a slight smile. “I think that will provide thee with considerable reason to ensure that as few of them strike thee as thou canst manage.”

My daughter shrank back from the bucket, not caring for the sight. “Mother, I thought the purpose of this training was for me to learn how to defend myself. Not to suffer painful and unpleasant injuries.”

“Not all training is fun and games in the snow, Midnight.” I briefly frowned in disapproval, then turned my tone gentler and somewhat more understanding. “I take no pleasure in this, but sometimes a bit of pain and blood in the training room will save thee from much greater suffering in the future.”

I would not have my daughter meet the same fate as Second Chance. She is my daughter. Like any mother, I would willingly go to any extreme to ensure her safety.

Midnight’s eyes lingered on the rocks for some time, then she slowly turned to face me, hesitantly meeting my eyes. “Mother, you are certain that this is the best way to learn?”

“I am.”

My daughter was thoughtfully silent for some time, then offered a single slow nod. “Very well then. You are my mother, and I know that you always act with my best interests in mind. It is my duty as a daughter to trust your judgment.” She spoke with careful deliberation, almost as if trying to assure herself of the truth of her own words. “What do you wish me to do?”

I pointed to a position opposite the bucket of rocks. “Move there, and prepare thyself.”

“By thy will.” My daughter hesitantly moved to her designated position. Her breaths came fast and sharp, and her eyes seemed fixed upon the rocks. I lifted a suitable one, and she gave a nervous swallow, taking half a step back. “M—mother? Are you certain that we must train in this way? Could we not just work in the snow again? I will redouble my effort to learn if you will but stay your hoof for long enough to allow me to—”

“Midnight.” I firmly cut her off. “We are starting.”

I measured the distance between us, carefully calculating the exact course the stone should take. I would need to act with the utmost care in this matter. While I could use telekinetics to control the rock to some degree, it would not be wise to take needless risks. ‘Twas of the utmost importance to provide the appearance of mortal peril whilst avoiding the reality of it. Unicorn magic is, to a degree, a matter of instinct. A healthy dose of fear might be just the push Midnight needed to achieve her full potential.

I never intended for the stones to strike her in any meaningful way. I would not have objected to a passing graze, to be sure. Pain is an excellent motivating force for defensive magic. Even a small cut or bruise might serve as a fine incentive to push her to better efforts. It might seem cruel to speak so coldly of injuring my daughter, but the entire process would ultimately be to her benefit. Better to shed a little bit of her blood here and now, rather than see her meet her end spitted on the end of a lance.

I hurled the rock towards her. From that point, matters escalated quickly.

Midnight tried to raise her shield in time, but much like the snowball from our previous lesson, her shield came into being a moment too late, and far too weak for its purpose. It would have been better had she failed to cast the spell completely. Had she failed, the rock would have continued on its planned course, barely passing over her head. I then would have chided her for ducking under the throw, and warned her that she would not be able to dodge the next throw. An ample enough warning that we were no longer at play without needlessly harming her.

Unfortunately, my daughter did not fail. Instead, she was partially successful. The stone’s course was not halted, but deflected away from the path I had carefully calculated to avoid injuring her.

There was a sickening crunch as it collided with her right foreleg. I hissed out a curse, directed in equal measure at myself for failing to anticipate the possibility, and at her for somehow finding the only possible way to fail me that I had not anticipated. I would have begun expressing my displeasure with her performance at length, had she not gone on to do something most unexpected.

My daughter is not a pony given to the usual displays one associates with childhood. She is not prone to tantrums or the usual flights of fancy or disobedience that typify so many of the youth. One of her most admirable qualities was that, aside from her earliest years, she had endeavoured to make herself as little of a burden to me as she could manage. I was not plagued with the usual troubles of motherhood, such as my daughter seeking me out in tears to be comforted for every minor scrape and bruise she suffered. When such things occurred, she comported herself with the level of composure and quiet dignity I expected to see from my daughter.

Thus, when my daughter fell to the floor, clutching her wounded limb and screaming in agony, I could only conclude that she was gravely injured. I immediately set the remaining rocks aside, and made haste to her. “Midnight, show me your leg.”

To my surprise, when I saw my daughter’s eyes she was in tears. “M—mother! It hurts!”

“Let me see!” I snapped at her, struggling to resist the urge to grab her limb and examine it at once. Wrenching it about would hardly improve her situation. After a few moments’ hesitation, she slowly ceased cradling her wound, gingerly extending her leg for my examination.

The skin under her coat was already turning mottled purple, and a small cut where the stone had made its impact bled profusely. The entire area had already begun to swell, as though an apple had been halved and forced under her flesh. Her leg wavered as she presented it to me, likely pained by the mere tension of holding it at length. Despite her efforts to hold her leg straight it rested at an angle, and a diagnostic spell confirmed that the bone was broken.

“Damnation,” I hissed. “Fool of a filly, why didst thou find the worst possible way in which thou couldst fail to meet my expectations?” My daughter let out a pained whimper, but I had neither the time nor the inclination to coddle her any further. The injury was beyond my skill to heal, and far too severe to leave unattended. I briefly considered attempting to have the wound treated in secret, but I was not optimistic as to my chances of finding a skilled chirurgeon and transporting him or her to my tower in secret. I have many enemies who watch my movements most keenly. E’en if I could elude them, Celestia sees and knows far more than any mortal pony, and she does not suffer harm to foals lightly.

Better to act openly on the matter. Attempting to conceal the matter would only encourage the creation of rumors that would trouble me far more than the actual truth. ‘Twas quite common for apprentices to be injured in the course of their studies.

That is not to say the matter would be painless; certainly there would be all the usual whispers that accompanied training accidents. The usual sorts of outlandish suggestions, such as my daughter’s wounds being the result of a dark pact made with demonic forces in order to allow me to seduce Celestia within her own chambers, or perhaps this week’s rumor would be that I was secretly a stallion, and my daughter was not wounded, but pregnant as the result of our incestuous affair? Naturally that was quite impossible, as I was very much a mare and Midnight had not yet blossomed.

Wild rumors aside, I would likely face some small bit of scrutiny from Celestia. I would need to act quickly in order to mitigate that particular issue; as the matter of the Clippings showed, Celestia choler is roused by the mistreatment of foals. Still, training accidents were far from unheard of. The same was true of Gale Kicker. Shadow’s daughter might have an odd fondness for my own, but a mare raised in the proud warrior culture of Pegasopolis would hardly be surprised by a training injury. She’d likely suffered far worse during her own childhood.

“Mother!” My daughter cried, removing me from my contemplations. “Please, my injury pains me. Is there nothing thou canst do to end it?”

“Be silent, Midnight,” I commanded her. “I am thinking, and idle words from thee do not make the process any swifter.”

Thankfully, my daughter complied. Regretfully, the silence offered no further insight into how I might address the matter. ‘Twould seem there was nothing to be done in the matter but to acknowledge the injury and seek treatment for it. A pity it could not be handled discretely, but such was the way of things. “Canst thou walk, Midnight, or is thine injury too severe?” Though the one leg was plainly useless to her, she did still have three perfectly functional ones.

My daughter let out a tiny whimper, and struggled to rise to her hooves. For a moment it seemed as though she would manage it, but then her legs failed her and she nearly fell to the floor. Before she could land upon her wounded leg, I quickly ensnared her within a telekinetic grasp, lifting her up and placing her upon my back. Once I had her in position, her unwounded foreleg slowly curled around my neck, and she very gently nuzzled me, no doubt driven by the pain of her wound to seek maternal comfort.

My eyes fell once more upon her wounded limb, and an odd emotion overtook me. I have seen and caused far more gruesome wounds in my time, yet there was something about the injury I had caused my daughter that unsettled me. Without making any conscious decision to do so, I found myself working what healing magic I possessed over her limb. Though ‘twould not be nearly sufficient to undo the injury, it would at least lessen the bleeding and pain.

Midnight let out a quiet murmur of gratitude, nuzzling the back of my neck once more. “Mother, I am sorry for failing you. I—”

“Midnight,” I gently interrupted her. “Recall thy lessons. When a student fails, one should look to the instructor as the cause.”

I encountered no difficulty in bringing my daughter to Celestia’s personal chirurgeon for treatment. Nopony would think to bar my path, or ask any unwarranted questions about why or how my daughter had been injured. Despite some idle talk that I might be “softening,” my reputation remained as fearsome as ever.

Despite his grand title, Temperance was quite available to treat Midnight’s injuries. Much like was the case with Celestia’s personal bodyguards, the position of personal chirurgeon was more a matter of ceremony than practical need. Celestia was, to all appearances, quite unaffected by mundane illness. I had only seen her wounded twice in all my time in the court, and of those times one had been an injury I was certain she deliberately allowed to shame a mob of rioting ponies into submission.

As such, there was little call for Temperance’s services. No doubt a most frustrating situation for one of the finest practitioners of the medical arts in all Equestria. As such, Celestia freely offered his services to those she held in high regard, and even the palace staff, so that he would not be forced to spend his days in idleness. I would hazard that even absent Celestia’s standing orders, few chirurgeons would refuse to attend a wounded child.

I entrusted my daughter to his able care, and then found a suitable location to await further news of her condition. I briefly attempted to return to my tower and attend to some other matters, but I found myself quite unable to focus my mind on anything other than my daughter’s condition. ‘Twas most vexing, and I soon found myself pacing about outside of Temperance’s operating theater, which was no doubt only furthering my reputation as a soft-hearted, doting mother. For all my irritation over the circumstances, I could see no other direction in which I might act.

As I waited, my mind lingered on the events leading to my daughter’s injury. My words to her echoed long in my mind. Much as I would have preferred to lay the fault for my daughter’s failure to properly defend herself entirely at her own hooves, I could not deny that ‘twas I who had conceived the exercise and cast the stone. That Midnight’s efforts might deflect a projectile from its carefully chosen course was a foreseeable hazard, but one I had failed to account for.

I do not tolerate failure. Not even from myself.

With hindsight’s benefit, ‘twas clear where I had erred. I had utilized my old master’s methods without fully accounting for the differences betwixt our talents. Cast Iron had a far greater degree of control over his knives than I over a few tossed stones. I should have used fire, or mayhaps ice as my daughter did. A greater degree of control would have ensured that no such accidents could have occurred.

Amends would need to be made for my failure. Some small boon to express my displeasure with the manner in which events had unfolded. Perhaps tickets to some of those plays she was so fond of?

For that matter, she would likely appreciate some small tokens to comfort her upon the end of her treatment. Perhaps one of her dolls? I was not sure if she still played with them, but I do recall her being quite fond of them, once. If nothing else, retrieving the objects would provide me with something to do other than uselessly pace about.

I made haste to the tower, and to Midnight’s room. Her quarters are most intriguing in their decor, as I allowed her some degree of freedom in the matter. Where she found so many replica skulls, why she thought them a suitable accessory for almost anything, and why she decided to paint them all pink, I will never know. At least the substantial book collection was something I could quite understand, as were the various minor magic items she had begun toying with once her apprenticeship started in earnest.

There had been some talk of a pet too. A cat. I had not cared for the idea of having my tower smell of litter and cat food, but perhaps I should make some allowances on the matter. Once Midnight had properly healed, of course. And she would be entirely responsible for the creature’s wellbeing. Perhaps some value could be had from setting her to the task.

A brief search was sufficient to locate the chest where she kept her dolls. After some consideration, I opted to select one I was reasonably certain I knew the name of: Midnight had spoken once or twice of a ‘Lady Buttoneyes,’ and there was but one doll which was feminine in dress and appearance, and featured buttons in the place of eyes. I do not quite know why knowing the doll’s name mattered to me, but it did. Perhaps saying the name as I gave it to her would offer some form of comfort to my daughter, and thus speed her recovery?

I confess, ever since we had first begun the training exercises in the snow, I had begun feeling oddly towards my daughter. Her brief touches, her subtle smiles, and even her simple presence became a thing that brought me some level of comfort. The Archmagus’ tower felt oddly empty and cold in her absence.

Damnation. I truly had allowed myself to grow too soft towards the filly. The whole situation unsettled and confused me, and I wished to be done with it. Matters were always far more easily addressed when one does not become emotionally invested.

I put the matter out of my mind as best I could and made my way back towards the palace, Lady Buttoneyes in tow. However, this time the journey did not prove so uneventful. I was two thirds of the way back to the chirurgeon when an event I had anticipated quickly developed in a direction I could scarcely have imagined.

“SUNBEAM SPARKLE!” Celestia had all but abandoned the use of the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice after my alterations to the standard court protocol, but ‘twould seem that in this case she felt its use warranted.

Witch’s teats. I’d hoped to be the one to inform her of the matter. I might have controlled how the news had come to her, but instead I had foolishly concerned myself with a doll of all things. Now she had heard the news in the worst possible manner, and her ire had been aroused. Like many gentle-natured ponies, her temper is difficult to fire, but almost impossible to calm once fury has taken her. Especially when the matter at hoof is injury to a child.

I turned to face her, already considering how best to explain my daughter’s injuries so that they did not reflect poorly upon my performance. She did not allow me a chance to explain myself. It is rather hard to draft an eloquent defense of one’s actions whilst in the midst of being targeted by a beam of magic empowered by the very sun itself.

The wise thing to do would have been to accept the blow, then humbly beg forgiveness for my actions whilst playing the wounded and helpless victim. However, a magus will not survive decades of service without developing certain instincts. The very instant I realized I was under attack, I erected an icy barrier to deflect the strike.

If that had been the sum of it, I might still have found some way to contain the situation, but one of the greatest assets of my fusion of cryomancy and pyromancy was the ease with which I could move between attack and defense. In simple terms, the best way to cast fire and ice is to manipulate existing heat rather than create it out of the aether. Thus, the very heat one removes from area to conjure ice can quickly and easily be concentrated elsewhere to create fire. Thus, the very instant I created my shield, I had already begun gathering strength for a counterstrike.

I am indisputably the most talented pyromancer of my age, wholly capable of conjuring flames that matched the intensity of a dragon’s breath or conflagrations that consumed entire enemy formations. Celestia countered my fireball with a simple flick of her horn, her eyes narrowing in grim determination. “So, thou wouldst attempt to murder thine own princess. ‘Twould seem we are come to battle, then.”

I hastily readied my defenses, even as my mind scrambled to find some way to defuse the situation. An attack ‘pon her was treason, but sure if I could explain... “Princess Celestia, I—”

Her first strike had been the magical equivalent of a slap across the cheek, intended more to express her displeasure with me than cause any lasting harm. Now that I had blocked and counter-attacked with force sufficient to slay any mere mortal, she did not show nearly so much restraint in her response.

Celestia’s spell tore through my defenses, so unaffected by my shield that I needn’t have bothered casting it at all. When the beam struck me, it lifted me up bodily and slammed me against the nearest wall. As I struck, there was a red-hot lance of pain through my neck; presumably I had struck a torch bracket, wall hanging, or something of the sort.

I fell to the floor bonelessly, any instinctual desire to defend myself utterly quashed by the force of Celestia’s strike. I was quite helpless before her. “Princess ... Celestia, I—”

“No.” Though she was no longer shouting, her voice still radiated a level of fury and power I had not seen since the war. “I have given thee far too many chances to explain thyself. Made far too many excuses for thy behavior. Countenanced far too many evils in the belief that they would ultimately result in some greater good.” Celestia gave a single resigned shake of her head. “No more. Thou hast committed treason ‘gainst the crown and attempted to murder thy Princess. E’en that, I might have been able to forgive, but I cannot forgive thine abuse of Midnight in the guise of training. Despite all thine evils, I dared to hope that she might yet provide thee a path to redemption. More fool, I. She was thy daughter, Sunbeam. Thy daughter.”

I struggled to think of some answer I could offer, but ‘twas quite beyond me. The pain radiating from my neck was indescribable, and made any sort of advanced thought rather difficult. In truth, I suspect the blow had rather unsettled my mind. Rather than focusing on the wrathful Princess glaring balefully down on me, all I could think about was the damnable doll I had intended to bring Midnight. Celestia’s attack had knocked it from my grasp, and it now lay some distance away. At that moment, my pain-addled brain could only focus on the need to reclaim possession of the doll, and I tried to summon it to my side.

Celestia, unaware of the intent behind my spellcasting, naturally assumed I was attempting to attack her once more. A second magical blast struck, dazing me and thoroughly ruining any spellcasting I could have hoped to accomplish. When my vision cleared, Celestia loomed large over me, a single hoof upraised and ready to strike. “Sunbeam Sparkle. For thy treason against the crown, and thy crimes against your daughter and all Equestria, I cast thee out. I strip from thee all titles and honors, and I take from thee thy power.”

Celestia lowered her head, and whispered into my ear. “I gave thee a chance to change thy ways after thou didst slay a child. In my heart I knew it a mistake, but I could not bring myself to admit that thou wert beyond salvation. Now that mercy has cost another child dearly. I’ll not make the same mistake twice.” She put a hoof on my cheek, pressing my head flat against the cold marble floor, whilst she raised the other high above my head.

Her hoof descended with all the force of a hammer. Gilded steel found its mark at the base of my horn, and stars danced before my eyes as I felt rather than heard my horn fly from my skull. The pain which followed that loss is beyond any words. ‘Twas likely a mercy that I lost consciousness for a few moments, stars and anguish giving way to the void and all-too-brief respite.

Despite my considerable pain, I felt an odd sort of pride in Celestia. An Archmagus who can spellcast will not remain a prisoner long, and the existing magic inhibitor rings were not equal to the task of restraining a unicorn of my ability. Still, I had not expected Celestia to have the strength of will to strike off my horn personally. She is normally slow to perform necessary cruelties; perhaps I have had a positive influence upon her after all.

Sadly, that brief moment of clarity as I drifted between oblivion and wakefulness proved entirely too brief. As I regained my senses, my eyes watered from the agony pouring through the shattered stump that had once been my horn. For her part, Celestia glowered down at me as if I were a particularly foul bit of offal stuck to her hooves. She then turned to address somepony who lay outside my current field of vision. “Gale, take this criminal to the dungeons. We will decide her fate later—for now, there is a gravely wounded young filly in need of comfort.”

As Celestia departed, she walked past Midnight’s doll, taking no note of its presence. For a moment I thought to call out to her, but I could not form the words through my agony. It seemed the pain of my injuries and the blows I had taken to the head had brought some strange form of madness ‘pon me, for all I could think of at the moment was the importance of delivering Lady Buttoneyes to my daughter.

Thoughts of the doll vanished entirely as Shadow’s daughter stepped forward, golden eyes glowering at me in disgust. ‘Twould seem she was filled with self-righteous fury—she had always been strangely fond of my daughter. “Get up, criminal.”

Though I was tempted to make some show of defiance, I quickly thought better of it. Gale had always been a duplicitous creature, and in my current state ‘twould not be wise to provoke her. I would not wish to find her in my dungeon cell that night, arranging for me to take my own life in grief or suffer an unfortunate accident. For now, discretion and compliance were the better part of valor. For the moment, survival was my sole priority—one’s lost pride is far more easily recovered than a lost life. A lesson many of rebels learned far too late at Maresidian Fields.

“Was my command unclear? Get up!” Gale snarled.

I tried to comply with her command, but experienced some difficulty in doing so. At first I was not sure as to the cause, and thought that perhaps I was simply having trouble controlling myself on account of the pain from my neck and what remained of my horn. “T—try...”

Gale answered with a discontented snort, clearly having little patience for my efforts, nor sympathy for my current injuries. Likely she thought herself full of righteous anger regarding my daughter’s training accident.

I continued to attempt the task, but met with no further success. I thought to turn my head so that I might have a look at them, but the merest fraction of movement set my wounded neck aflame. ‘Twas a curious thing, how my neck pained me so terribly, yet I felt no agony in any other part of—

Neigh.

Neigh, it could not be.

And yet, the facts could not be disputed.

Gale seemed to be rapidly losing patience in the face of my lack of progress in complying with Celestia’s commands. “If thou art not upon thy hooves within the count of five, I shall drag thee to the dungeons by the tail,” she threatened. “I look forward to the staircases.”

I struggled to speak despite all the pain. “C’nt.”

Gale’s eyes went wide with rage as she misheard my intended word, and an armored hoof lashed out to strike me across the mouth, dislodging several teeth in the process. Being struck with shoes made of thunderforged steel is unpleasant. My teeth were not the greatest concern, though, for the force of her blow snapped my neck about, the movement causing such agony that I nearly emptied my stomach from the pain.

I do not know if I screamed or not, but from the way Gale withdrew a step, I suspect that I must have. Though I pride myself on a resistance to ordinary pains, there are levels of agony which nopony can suffer without comment. I hastened to communicate my condition to her, lest she strike me once more for noncompliance. “Can’ fee ... lgs.”

The pegasus frowned down at me, then leaned forward so that she might hear my words. “Speak up, if thou hast anything worth saying.”

I spat out a broken tooth and a mouthful of blood, and managed something resembling plain and coherent speech. “I cannot feel my legs.”

Gale Kicker was many things, but a sadist she was not. Once my crippling was revealed to her, she assigned two of her stallions to carrying me to the dungeons. The journey was a treatise on pain, with e’en the slightest steps and motions feeling a torture. Gale took note of my anguish, and ordered her soldiers to take some care in my handling. Her compassion has always been a weakness, though mayhaps in this case she simply wished to ensure that I would not expire from my injuries before Celestia had a chance to decide my fate. There was little need to risk angering Her Highness by accidentally killing me when Celestia was likely to make a judgement to the same effect in the near future.

My cell in the dungeons was quite habitable, as far as dungeon cells go. Despite the current state of my horn, they had placed an inhibitor device over what remained of it. ‘Twas absurd, since the device was quite useless now, and if I regained my full powers I could easily reduce the thing to slag, but I suppose it made them feel safer.

The jailers had also placed me within one of the high-security and magically inert cells designed to contain powerful spellcasters. This was a somewhat more prudent measure, given that many magi are not wholly dependent on their horns to practice the art. Active spellcasting required an intact horn, but enchanted items and potions do not lose their power simply just because the caster is crippled, and some magi are quite adept at hiding such items, e’en when stripped bare. That is not to mention that damaged horns do heal over time, though I was unlikely to have the months needed for my horn to completely regenerate.

If nothing else, I was grateful for the fact that high-security cells require solitary confinement. At the moment I was quite helpless, and I had enemies within the dungeons. Not to mention the risks of being an attractive and quite helpless mare in the company of criminals. Though if I were to endure certain indignities, it might at least garner some sympathy from Celestia when she passed sentence.

It was not fitting for things to end this way. Ever since my earliest days in my father’s workshop, I have known that I was destined for greatness. Father often spoke of the day when I would begin my apprenticeship with him, continuing the proud Sparkle family tradition of glassworking. However, I was no mere artisan, I was a mare of destiny.

Once I came into my magic, that fact was undeniable. My parents gave me over to the magi, and I began my apprenticeship. My rise came with the swiftness of a roaring fire, and just as unstoppable. Youngest Archmagus in living memory, and then the unprecedented step of claiming the office of Grand Vizier as well. Supreme magical and political power in Unicornia, answerable only to Celestia herself. Then I guided our nation through the perils of the Lunar Rebellion, forging a new, unified Equestria. When e’en Celestia doubted herself, ‘twas my strength and my vision that saw us through the war.

And now all that was undone. To think, after all I had done to reach the highest pinnacles of power and authority within Equestria, I would be undone by a mere training accident. There was no justice in the world, if such things could happen.

I do not know how long I lay there, discontented with my current situation and lacking any way to better it. Escape was plainly impossible in my current state of disability, and I saw no likely prospects for ending it before Celestia passed judgment on me. E’en if she found me blameless in the matter of Midnight’s injuries, there was still the fact that I had cast an offensive spell ‘gainst her. The law does not look kindly upon those who attempt to harm their rulers.

‘Twould seem my fate was sealed then. An unworthy ending.

I do not know how long I lay in my cell, as I had no way to judge the passage of time beyond the most rudimentary of methods. With little in the way of diversion and a great deal of pain, I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness as the hours passed.

After a great deal of tedium and pain, I awoke to the sound of somepony lightly tapping on the bars of my cell. When I opened my eyes, I found myself face-to-face with my daughter, her wounded foreleg now bound in a fresh cast. I felt a strange moment of vindication at seeing Lady Buttoneyes poking out from within her saddlebag. ‘Twould seem that she had somehow gained custody of the doll since my downfall. ‘Twas a small and meaningless victory, but I took some small bit of pleasure in it regardless.

“Mother.” There was an uncertainty to her voice, as though she were unsure of how to regard me. “I have heard that you were wounded and stripped of your position. There are rumors that Celestia will have you executed. Or exiled to the moon. Or petrified. Or perhaps some combination thereof.”

Wonderful. So my downfall was common knowledge, then. Already the scullery maids and pages gossiped about my doom. I tried to salvage what little pride I could before my daughter’s eyes. “My fate is not yet decided and so long as I yet live there are always possibilities.” Though my situation was undeniably grim, even the slimmest chance of salvation was preferable to certain doom. “And what of thee, my daughter? How farest thou? Is thine injury treated and healed?”

“Temperance the chirurgeon informed me that it shall heal in time.” My daughter paused, her eyes lingering long on my broken horn. “It is also said that your legs are broken, yet they do not appear damaged, and nopony has made any effort to treat them.” She held up her own freshly splinted leg by way of demonstration.

“I am wounded elsewhere, my daughter,” I explained. “Though my legs are unharmed, they no longer heed my mind’s commands.”

“I see.” Her gaze turned to something outside of my sight. “That would explain why your food has gone uneaten.”

I had been provided a meal at some point, then? Not that the food would be of any use to me; the other side of my jail cell might as well have been the far reaches of Zebrica. Both were equally out of reach. I briefly wondered if the food had been left so far away because my jailors were unaware of the severity of my injuries, or because of it. Was this mere incompetence, or they thought themselves clever for devising such a cruel taunt? I suppose it mattered little; both were equally deserving of retribution.

To my surprise, I heard a key turning in the lock, and then my daughter entered my cell. So, a mere child could unlock what was supposed to be the most secure jail cell in all of Canterlot? That made it rather more likely that incompetence was to blame for my denied meal. Curse my body for failing me, or I might have made good my escape.

Though mayhaps my condition was precisely why my jailors were so lax in attending their duties. Whether the door to my cell was secured or open was of little consequence when I was quite effectively trapped within the prison of my own flesh. Still, there were possibilities. “Midnight, how didst thou...”

“The guards were drinking, and I am small,” she offered by way of explanation. Not what I had hoped to hear, for I doubt the jailors were so intoxicated that they could fail to notice a proper rescue party. And that presumed that my daughter could rally any of my allies to my cause. As Archmagus and Vizier, my allies were many and powerful. As an escaped criminal and traitor, far less so.

Still, at least my daughter’s presence could provide some small comfort. By this point, I would have welcomed e’en Gale or Celestia. Hateful glares and barbed words would have proven far better than boredom and agony.

Midnight regarded me for some time, then slowly lifted a bowl of plain white rice. The meal she had alluded to, presumably. “You should eat, Mother. I will aid you.” She lifted the bowl with her hooves, pressing it against my muzzle. “I would help more, but—”

“Magic cannot be used within the cell,” I concluded for her. A dungeon cell where spells could freely be cast would hardly have been effective at containing an Archmagus.

With food now hovering beneath my muzzle, hunger called out to me, and I partook of the meal. Midnight silently held the bowl, shifting it about as I ate to aid me in the task. After I finished, she used a single hoof to wipe away a few grains of rice that stuck to my chin, then set the bowl aside and seated herself before me, staring into my eyes and remaining near as still and unmoving as I.

Once ‘twas clear she did not intend to depart at any point in the foreseeable future, I spoke. “Why art thou in this place, Midnight?”

“You are my mother,” she answered quite simply.

I would have made further inquiry on the matter, but the effort of eating and conversing with my daughter had begun to wear upon me, and already my eyes grew heavy once more. ‘Twould seem that my body sought sleep in an effort to heal its wounds. “I thank thee for thine aid, my daughter, but I must rest now. Go to thine own bed, ere thou art seen in this place.”

To my immense irritation, Midnight did not bestir herself. After several long seconds, she answered. “Gale has told me that you no longer have the right to give me commands, or levy punishments ‘pon me for refusing you. As such, I choose to remain.”

Damnable filly. Ne’er before had she openly defied me, but even she now grasped how powerless I was to enforce my will.

After regarding me for a time longer, she moved about, exiting my sight. I heard hooves briefly scramble about, and then felt a barely perceptible shift in the weight of my cot. With some effort and pain, I was able to turn my gaze to Midnight. As I’d suspected, she had joined me on the cot, wrapping my limp forelegs around herself and pressing against my chest. ‘Twas foolish to seek an embrace from me, especially when I was plainly incapable of delivering one.

Once she was fully settled into position, she turned her eyes to mine. “Thank you for trying to bring Lady Buttoneyes to me, Mother. I am sorry you were hurt in the process.”

“Think nothing of it. ‘Twas but a doll.” Truly, I do not even know why I had gone to so much trouble to retrieve the damned thing. To further compound my frustration, I found myself oddly peaceful, looking down at my daughter. ‘Twas not long ere I had no choice but to set aside further contemplation on the matter as slumber claimed me.

Abiotrophy

When I awoke, Princess Celestia stood within my jail cell.

E’en after I attained wakefulness, she paid me no mind. ‘Twould seem her attention was quite occupied by my daughter, who remained asleep, cradled within my dead forelegs. Once I concluded that she had no intention of initiating conversation, I did so. “Are you here to pass sentence on me, Princess?”

Celestia turned to me, her expression carefully neutral. “Perhaps. However, I am curious as to what Midnight is doing here.” She gazed down at the sleeping child, and there was a brief golden glow around my daughter. Though I was in no condition to analyze Celestia’s spellwork I would guess ‘twas likely some spell meant to ensure that our discussion would not disturb her rest.

“If you will accept one final bit of advice from your former Vizier, Princess, I would suggest dismissing whoever was charge of security for my cellblock.” Despite the severity of my circumstances, I found a faint mocking smile working its way onto my face. “If not for the fact that I am quite incapable of walking at the moment, I might have escaped from my cell. My daughter also informs me that they were drinking whilst on duty, which no doubt contributed to their negligence. That a mere filly was able to sneak into one of our most secure cells, and e’en find the key to my cell, is most troubling. At what point did ‘high security’ become less meaningful than ‘fillyproof?’”

Celestia gazed at me for a moment, then shook her head and gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I think we are past the point where thine advice on matters of governance is of relevance.”

“Mayhaps, but it still offends my sensibilities to be imprisoned by such incompetents. If I were not crippled, I would have delayed mine escape in order to kill them, just as a matter of principle.” One of my ears flicked in annoyance. “I should also point out that either somepony failed to inform the jailors of my condition, or they find amusement in tormenting prisoners. In either case, it is an unacceptable inefficiency. If not for my daughter’s timely arrival, the food would have gone to feed vermin. If possible, I would appreciate a stay of execution until I have had sufficient time to undertake a review of our current facilities and improved efficiency. As it stands, I have no faith that these fools will not simply make a mess of my beheading as well.”

Celestia looked at me askance. “Thou wouldst ask that thy punishment be delayed so that thou canst ensure the quality of our prisons?” She regarded me for several long moments, then slowly shook her head. “I have never known a pony to succumb to madness so soon after confinement.”

“I am not mad,” I answered her. “Merely displeased. Though there is precious little else to do whilst confined to a dungeon cell beyond compile a list of ways in which one’s jailors have manifestly failed to perform their task.”

“I see.” Celestia paused, taking a steadying breath and regaining her regal demeanour. “Regardless, I am not here to speak with thee regarding thy displeasure at being jailed. I would discuss thy crimes, and how they shall be punished. However, I shall at least offer thee some small measure of reassurance. For all my displeasure with thee and all thy heinous crimes, thou hast served both Equestria and the throne for many years. In recognition of that service, I offer mercy. Thou needest not to worry of the headsmare’s skill, for thou shalt not meet her.”

“You would offer mercy in sparing my life? Mercy?!” I spat the word out as if merely speaking it had befouled my mouth. “The life of a helpless cripple, imprisoned within her own flesh for all eternity? I am to live out my remaining years more helpless than a foal, requiring aid even to relieve myself, and then you have gall to say that this fate is a mercy!?” I glared at her, and for the first time in my life I hated Celestia. “If this be your mercy, I offer my sincerest condolences to the victims of your cruelty.”

Celestia face went taut with anger. “Do not play at being an innocent victim in this, Sunbeam.” Her eyes traveled down to my daughter, and specifically the cast on her foreleg. “From the moment thou first presented her to me, I dared to hope that thy daughter might be the source of thy salvation. Thou art a wicked pony, Sunbeam, but also a brilliant one. ‘Tis within thy power to accomplish so much good, if thou wouldst but attempt it. So many times during my quest to redeem thee I nearly gave in to despair and declared the cause hopeless.”

She reached out, gently moving one of my legs aside so she stroke Midnight’s mane. “Thy daughter was the one thing that gave me hope in those dark times. For all thy flaws and failings, and they are many, Midnight found something within thee worthy of love. If she could see the good within thy heart, then surely I could find it too.”

Celestia turned her eyes from my daughter, and as she met mine I saw a hint of the fury contained within them. “Then, thou didst take that filly—a filly who loves and trusts thee utterly and without condition—and thou didst subject her to pain and cruelty in the guise of training. It is unforgivable.”

“Then ‘tis fortunate that I’ve not asked your forgiveness,” I answered shortly. “There may come a time when I ask my daughter’s, and rightfully so, but I committed no crime against thee.” My lip curled up in contempt. “Unless ‘tis now a crime for a mare to defend herself ‘gainst unprovoked aggression.”

“Unprovoked?” Celestia’s countenance tightened in outrage. “Unprovoked? Thou didst shatter thy daughter’s leg and excuse it as training.”

“The severity of her injury was unintentional,” I answered calmly.

“So Midnight claimed when I spoke with her,” Celestia answered coldly. “Tell me, Sunbeam, how long did she lie untreated ‘pon floor of thy tower before you convinced her that such was the case? How long didst thou listen to her pleas for healing, whilst forcing her to memorize a contrived tale that described thee as innocent? ‘Tis a child’s natural instinct to protect her parents, but I do not think thou wouldst leave such a matter to chance.”

Her words struck like a bolt from the heavens, for I had, in fact, failed to even consider properly preparing my daughter. “Damnation!” ‘Twas obvious in hindsight that I should have arranged a fitting story ere I brought my daughter to Temperance the chirurgeon. There were easily a dozen tales I could have instructed my daughter in that would have explained her wound whilst clearing me of any shade of wrongdoing. With hindsight’s clarity, ‘twas quite plain to see how I should have addressed the matter.

Why, then, had I failed to do so?

My thoughts were likely plain on my face, if I were to judge by Celestia’s response. A moment later, I felt a subtle pressure ‘gainst my mind. With my own magic unavailable, there was little I could do to determine the nature of her spell. That she could cast within a cell that ought to have been magically inert was curious, but presumably she had either removed that restriction for the moment or some aspect of the spell or her own unique abilities allowed her to ignore that restriction. ‘Twas quite possible she had specifically designed her high-security dungeon cells to be incapable of holding her, in the event that she herself might be placed within them at some point. I would certainly have done so in her place.

Before the spell completed, she turned to me. “Sunbeam, I would have thy permission to cast a spell of truespeaking. Is it granted?”

“You need hardly ask, under the circumstances.”

“It is still polite to do so,” Celestia calmly answered. Whilst the Laws of Magic normally frowned ‘pon compulsions of any sort, the rules did make some concessions to the government’s practical needs. It has long been understood that criminals and prisoners do not enjoy the same rights and liberties as free citizens. Truespeaking spells were one of the more common allowances for officers of the law, though they were still used with restraint.

The only reason such spells were not ubiquitous was their unreliability. Like any compulsion, it could only take effect after o’ercoming the target’s will. I had counseled my own magi to avoid relying upon them in their operations: few things are more dangerous than a failed Truespeech spell. E’en the most ridiculous lies seem plausible when uttered by a speaker under the effects of a Truespeech spell. E’en for those who cannot o’ercome the spell directly, there are many simple ways in which to speak honest words whilst carrying a deceptive means—such as the classic example of claiming that thou didst not see a criminal’s act, whilst failing to mention that’ twas heard quite clearly.

However, I did not think myself likely to be able to undo a spell cast by Celestia herself. Mayhaps I could manage it if I turned the full of my will ‘pon it and was in good health, but certainly not in my current condition. Nor did I think myself capable of the mental gymnastics needed to lie whilst speaking only the strictest truth. ‘Tis difficult to manage such convoluted trains of thought whilst my mind was addled by pain.

As the spell settled into place over my mind, Celestia asked her first question. “Were Midnight’s injuries intentional, or accidental?”

“The severity of her injuries was a result of ill fortune,” I answered instantly. “The stone was intended to be a near-miss, in order to frighten and motivate her.”

I had thought that would be the end of the matter, but ‘twould seem Celestia was not satisfied yet. “Why? Why threaten her with pain and suffering, just to teach her?”

“Because it is effective.” I met her eyes defiantly. “I regret that my errors in designing the exercise led to such a serious injury, but I will say this much: Midnight will apply herself far more vigorously to her studies of the defensive arts now. Her injury in this matter will drive her to strengthen her defenses, and likely save her life many times over. If she were trapped within a burning building and the only way to remove her to safety would require breaking one of her legs, you would do so, neigh?”

“The situations are not equivalent,” Celestia responded evenly.

“Are they not?” I challenged. “My daughter is surely in peril. For all your dreams of making an Equestria filled with love and harmony, they remain but dreams for now. Dreams will not keep my daughter safe; only her own strength can do that.”

“Strength?” Celestia gave a pained sigh and slowly shook her head. “That has always been thy greatest failing, Sunbeam. E’en after all the time I have spent instructing thee otherwise, thou still hast not grasped that violence is not strength, nor compassion weakness.”

“And your failing is to mistake compassion for a lack of resolve to do that which is needful,” I answered her with a mocking scoff. “Though if you would speak to me of compassion, I must ask why you saw fit to cripple me with such violence. Should my supposed crimes not have been met with gentle compassion, by your own words?”

For the barest of moments the shadow of guilt passed over Celestia’s face. “The crippling of thy limbs was not a thing I intended, Sunbeam. I must confess that I am prone to excessive reactions when a child is wounded. That does not excuse it, but some explanation is owed. Thy magic had to be taken to hold thee, but to do more than that was ... unfitting.”

“Unfitting,” I repeated, considering her choice of word. “A telling word. ‘Tis often said that the punishment should fit the crime, is it not? If you have resolved to spare my life, then ‘twould seem I am condemned to live out my days a helpless cripple. E’en once my magic returns, I would be hard-pressed to live out a life in this body. Tell me, does my punishment fit?” In truth, considering the severity of my disability, I was not certain how long I would endure in my current state. An injury severe enough to deprive me of voluntary movement would likely carry many other implications for my health in coming days.

Celestia’s head dropped, remorse now plainly written on her face. “Neigh, it does not. ‘Twould seem that I allowed thy past acts to color my judgment of thee. I do not approve of thy methods in teaching thy daughter, but I cannot call them criminal. Negligent, mayhaps—more care should have been taken to ensure that the exercise you planned could not go awry—but not so terrible as to deserve all that I wrought upon thee. I admit, when I learned that thou didst so wound thy daughter, I grew quite wroth with thee. I had always hoped that Midnight would prove to be a gentling influence upon thee, and the thought that thou wouldst abuse her drove me to excess.”

I conceded the matter with a nod. “I have already concluded that there were better ways to perform the exercise in question. The same effect could have been gained with safer methods. I have recently come to suspect that my judgment is ... compromised, when addressing my daughter.”

“Compromised?” Celestia inquired.

“I find it difficult to remain entirely objective regarding her,” I answered her. “I suspect that if she were to ever become a threat to the safety of Equestria or the crown, I might hesitate if her elimination were required.” I frowned as a particularly troublesome thought occurred. “I might even be compelled to risk lives needlessly to pursue a non-lethal solution.”

I have decided that I do not like honesty spells. They reveal entirely too much.

Celestia stared at me for several seconds, then slowly shook her head. “I truly do not understand thee, Sunbeam. ‘Twould be far simpler if thou wert but a monster or a madmare bent solely ‘pon causing misery. Those, I know how to meet. One such as thee, however, can be most frustrating. Fell deeds done in the name of good causes.”

“That is what I do,” I confirmed. “Or at least, that is how others choose to define my acts. I have found that one’s perspectives on good and evil are often defined by one’s interests. The weak claim that it is righteous for the strong to protect them. The elites—whether unicorn noble, pegasus clanpony, or earth pony magnate—all have ways to justify their power. Pacifists say violence is wicked, whilst warriors deride them as cowards. I’ve found little value in worrying about morality: nopony seems to agree on what good and evil actually are. Results, however ... those are real.” My gaze once more turned down to my daughter. “No proper mother would let the prattling of small-minded fools stop them from doing what is best for their child.”

Celestia regarded me for some time, then gave a resigned sigh. “There is more to leadership than choosing the most straightforward and pragmatic path, Sunbeam. Regardless of thy beliefs, there are such things as right and wrong. That is why I shall heal thee. As thou didst not intend to so wound Midnight, I have also erred, and so I shall make it right. Thou shalt walk again; this I promise thee.”

I was quite surprised by her gesture—a royal oath is not a thing to be lightly offered. Especially not to one in my circumstances. “What of my attempt to slay thee?”

Celestia offered a small, polite laugh. “The attack was a grave offense, but I would be a poor princess indeed if a single reflexive fire spell could end me.” Her tone did not remain so gay for long. “More to the point, given the excessive nature of my own actions, I am hard-pressed to justify punishing thee in any great way for attempting to defend thyself. I think whatever retribution thou didst earn for that crime has already been suffered.”

“So the matter is ended, then?” I asked. “I would have your oath on it. A full pardon, a restoration of all I have lost, and your solemn word that I shall be restored. And, of course, the return of my daughter.” I glanced down to Midnight once more, noting with some approval that she was no longer sleeping, but still feigned it. ‘Twould seem she had already begun to learn the subtler aspects of observation.

Celestia’s response was unexpected. “I agree to all of those conditions but the last.”

“You would still strip my daughter away?” I found the idea most offensive, especially after all I had suffered on account of her supposed mistreatment. “Unacceptable. I refuse to accept any arrangement that does not see my daughter returned to my care.”

Once more, Celestia refused me. “Sunbeam, until your body is fully restored, you will be hard-pressed to attend to your own needs, let alone Midnight’s. I give you my word, as sworn by my magic and my very crown, that she will visit daily and be restored to your care once you are healed. I also give my word that you will be restored.”

‘Twas not the answer I had hoped for, but I could not gainsay her logic. As she said, my own troubles were likely to consume me for the near future. What reservations I might have held could not stand in the face of her binding oath. “The matter is settled then, Princess. I will remember both of those oaths, and hold you to them.”

With those words, though I did not know, I had sealed our fates.

I was, at first, reasonably optimistic as to my chances of seeing my body fully restored. Celestia’s word is not lightly given, and she possesses considerable resources to make good on all that she had promised me. My horn and magic were restored in a few days’ time, and I had every reason to expect that what remained would likewise be restored.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans. As days turned to weeks, I began to feel the first hints of despair.

Despite Celestia’s best efforts, I still felt we were sorely lacking in expertise regarding the medical arts. The war was largely to blame for that deficiency: unicorns skilled in the healing arts had been one of the favored targets of the mage hunters. Magic simply allows forms of healing which even the most skilled of earth ponies and pegasi cannot imitate. The Avatar of Nightmare Moon chose wisely in striking at our medicae—by removing a single healer, she also ensured the deaths of every single pony that chirurgeon might have saved.

However, e’en had we access to greater expertise on the matter, I was unsure ‘twould ensure my salvation. Though my own understanding of the healing arts is limited, I had applied the sum of my considerable intellect to learning as much as I could regarding the treatment of my current disability. The results were less than promising.

One of the first principles of healing magic is that it should be applied to the body as quickly as possible. Though there were many theories as to the hows and whys of the matter, there was a general consensus that the longer an injury lingered, the more difficult it was to apply the healing arts to it. This was especially so in the case of wounds that would not heal through natural processes alone. A unicorn’s horn restores itself over time, so ‘tis a simple matter to speed the process along. Such is not the case with injuries that deaden a pony’s body.

My extended disability was not only distressing to me for the obvious reasons. Whilst being trapped within my own flesh and unable to move anything other than my head was unpleasant, I did at least have sufficient skill in auto-telekinesis to improvise a certain modus vivendi. However, my current state was proving quite ruinous for my political affairs.

Officially, Celestia had fully reinstated me as Archmagus of Canterlot and Grand Vizier of Unicornia. However, ‘twas no surprise to learn that the mare who felt my current physical condition rendered me incapable of e’en caring for my own daughter also did not believe me capable of handling difficult affairs of state. Thus, my duties had been placed in other hooves, for the moment. ‘Twas supposedly a temporary measure, but I was well aware of the way of things: the great bulk of my reforms had begun life as temporary emergency wartime measures, all of which still remained in place e’en though the war was more than a year past.

I was less concerned for my position ‘mongst the magi, as magi are naturally fractious by nature, and those who held power largely owed it to my good graces. ‘Twould likely take months or mayhaps e’en years before any candidate strong enough to challenge my primacy emerged. However, my position as Grand Vizier was already in peril, and from a most unlikely source.

Acting Grand Vizier Gale Kicker.

Shadow’s daughter had already begun to prove herself distressingly effective at exercising my office. ‘Twould have been easy to undo her if she sought to tear down my old policies, but instead she seemed quite happy to continue them. ‘Twas making her far too popular: many of my current allies were naturally quite content to work alongside a mare who protected their interests as carefully as I had. Meanwhile, my enemies were instantly fond of her on account of the fact that she was not me, and the great respect many held for Shadow reflected upon her daughter as well.

No doubt she would be quick to claim credit for any fruit borne by my years of hard work, whilst also blaming any problems that arose ‘pon my legacy. ‘Tis certainly what I would have done, were I in her position.

‘Twas perhaps indicative of my mood that my bowels chose that moment to loosen themselves. No longer having conscious control over such functions is irritating, though ‘twas a fitting summary of my thoughts on the matter.

Whatever my thoughts on my temporary replacement, Gale could not be countered until I restored my body to its proper order. Celestia will not have a Grand Vizier who must wear diapers to avoid publicly messing herself. Thankfully, my magic was equal to the task of cleaning the mess.

However, ‘twould seem it could manage no more than that. I resumed my reading, continuing to find naught but misery and disappointment. The only somewhat promising line of inquiry I’d found thus far had ended with me hissing out a particularly foul oath ‘gainst Nightmare Moon upon learning that the stallion who had been developing the technique was one of the war’s many casualties. His apprentice was hard at work attempting to carry on his master’s legacy, but Straight Steps had not been a particularly careful or meticulous notetaker. ‘Twould likely take years just to replicate his lost work, let alone expand upon it.

It seemed terribly unfair that even after the Avatar of Nightmare Moon had passed, she still found ways to stymie my efforts. I might have gotten lost in idle imaginings of some fantastical vengeance, were it not for the most intriguing line of thought that occurred due to her.

Naturally, the emergence of an avatar for the mad alicorn had been a matter of great interest to the magi. Morning Star, one of my better researchers, had been hard at work deciphering the dark rites used to animate her body and craft the shell of the false alicorn. Of particular interest, at the moment, was the fact that a freshly dead corpse had been restored to fell unlife by the rite.

Despite what many of my detractors might claim, I have never and will never resort to the use of dark magic. However, the fact that this dark ritual had repaired a dead body to such a degree that it lived once more was of some interest. ‘Twas a thin hope, but perhaps a magical process that could reverse death could also heal a severe but non-mortal injury.

However, this line of inquiry was a dangerous one. Since the emergence of the Royal Sisters, there have been mortals who coveted the power of alicorns. Without exception, those who sought to claim or replicate that power have met unpleasant ends. Those who were fortunate merely died as a result of their failed ascensions. For those who succeeded (in a manner of speaking), there was naught but a life of agony as a twisted abomination—a sick parody of the divine beings they sought to emulate. Even the Avatar of Nightmare Moon had met such a fate: by the time of her destruction, she was naught but a twisted parody of an alicorn’s majesty.

Of all those who made the attempt, there is only one false alicorn who was not ultimately slain by transformation. Having met the resulting entity, I am quite confident in saying that I would sooner die than allow myself to fall to such a state.

Naturally, information regarding false alicorns is carefully controlled. ‘Twould not do to inspire more of them. Naturally, the Archmagus of Canterlot was one of the few ponies allowed access to what little we knew of their works. With a few careful inquiries, I was able to gather what information we had regarding their transformations. While I had no intention of attempting the rite myself, the information itself might open some heretofore unimagined possibilities.

The results proved most intriguing. Curt Words had been born with a lame leg, which was cured in the process of his false ascension. Granted, it had also remade him into a hideous lizard-like creature, but he had six perfectly functional limbs afterwards. Brilliant Blade regained the eye she’d lost in battle, though admittedly she only had moments to enjoy it before she burst into flames. And then, there was the Avatar, who had temporarily undone death itself.

There was an undeniable conclusion; some aspect of the false ascension process undid existing injuries and deformities. The transition from mere mortal to something more included the shedding of those weaknesses that afflict the bodies of ordinary ponies.

However, on its own this information was useless to me. I had no intention of pursuing false ascension: it is a fool’s errand, and would likely only worsen my situation in the long term. ‘Twould be a severe understatement to say that Celestia would not look kindly upon such a thing, as well. In all likelihood, she would destroy me if I attempted it.

Thankfully, there was a far better option available. A year ago, Celestia had offered her dear Shadow a legitimate ascension to alicornhood. Shadow had refused, for some foolish reason. Now that a debt was owed and a promise made, she would have to offer the same to me. ‘Twas the only way to restore my body. Well, mayhaps there were alternatives, but none so appealing as this.

Her Royal Highness, Sunbeam Sparkle: Princess of the Night. Yes, that would do quite nicely.

The topic was a difficult one to broach; one does not lightly ask to be elevated to godhood. The time, place, and manner of the request would all be of the utmost importance. I would need to plan the encounter out meticulously, to ensure that all possible factors were stacked so as to increase my chances of success.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Two days after I’d decided upon my new ambition, Celestia sought me out. ‘Twas not as if I were particularly hard to find, given my immobility. Aside from those breaks required to attend to life’s necessities and the daily visits by the chirurgeons to evaluate my condition, I spent all my waking hours within my personal library. E’en though I had my goal firmly in mind, there was much to be done before I was truly ready to act. If there was but a single means of healing that I had failed to account for, the credibility of my case would be destroyed.

Sadly, I could not distract myself with any research whilst in the midst of Temperance’s daily visits. The chirurgeon was skilled at his art, but I cared little for his treatments regardless. Despite his carefully cultivated bedside manner, I disliked having a medicae poking and prodding at my body as if I were a particularly fascinating specimen. As had often been the case since my crippling, the chirurgeon’s attentions had put me in a foul mood, made all the poorer by the fact that he had already lingered for longer than normal.

I felt a welcome sense of relief when I heard somepony at the doors to my private quarters; few would seek entry to my tower, and most of those who would were far more welcome company than the chirurgeon. That making myself fit for company required wearing my robes once more was an added benefit; one can hardly entertain guests whilst openly wearing a diaper, but they had become something of a necessity. My dignity had taken many blows, in recent days.

My visitors proved to something of a mixed blessing; on the one hoof, my daughter was always a delight. Unfortunately, she came in the company of Gale Kicker, whom I cordially despised, and Celestia. As had become her custom, Midnight approached me and nuzzled my cheek before settling against my chest, draping my forelegs over her. Given her sudden fondness for physical contact, I suspect she is deliberately taking advantage of my disability.

‘Twas hardly a proper embrace; more akin to draping oneself with a blanket. Still, my daughter seemed content, so I suppose ‘twas sufficient to please her. “Greetings, Mother. I hope your condition has improved rather than worsened.”

I considered my words carefully; there was nothing to be gained in upsetting my daughter by speaking too much of my ills. “I have fared as well as can be expected.”

Celestia gazed down at my daughter, an approving smile on her face. “Thou art within fair company while we seek a cure, at the least.”

“I suppose there is that much.” My daughter’s company was certainly preferable to that of the chirurgeon. “How farest thou, my child?”

“I am well, Mother,” my daughter replied dutifully. “Gale has treated me kindly the last few weeks. She has also seen to continuing my education, though her methods are not the same as yours.”

Considering my displeasure with the outcome of the last training exercise I’d crafted for my daughter, that Gale used different means only struck me as prudent. Whatever benefits Midnight derived from the experience, ‘twas still the result of error on my part. “How do her methods differ?”

“My magical and academic studies are much the same, though she disagrees with thine opinion regarding Lyequine philosophy.” She paused, and briefly directed a discontented glare towards Gale. “However, once my leg healed she began making me do calisthenics with the other children at the Kicker Compound.” She returned her attention to me, and announced matter-of-factly, “I was unaware that non-unicorns were capable of using dark magic, but I am certain these calisthenics are some form of especially foul black magic. Once I succeed you as Archmagus, I will take appropriate steps to see them wiped from the face of Equestria.”

Celestia quickly brought a hoof over her mouth to stifle the smile that had already begun to grow upon her lips. For her part, Gale stepped forward to defend her actions. “Physical training is important, Midnight. Not every problem has a magical solution.”

My daughter let out a resigned sigh. “So I have been taught, though I question whether calisthenics is a suitable form of training rather than a method of torture. I am aware that martial training is vigorous, but I fear what survival camp will bring when I go through it in the summer.”

Midnight’s final remark drew a frown from me. “Thou art already planning so far in advance?” ‘Twas most presumptuous for Gale to make plans that would not come to fruition for many months. I had only been wounded for a month’s time, and fully intended to be restored ere winter’s end. Yet Gale already made plans for how my daughter would spend her summer months?

Celestia answered me, her tone carefully diplomatic. “I am certain Gale has not made any presumptuous attempt to supplant thine authority, Sunbeam. However, Gale would do thy child a disservice if she did not think on how best to see to her education while it remains within her responsibility. She cannot go through every day refraining from making any decision that might prove moot if thou wert to be healed the next day.”

Gale herself offered a few words in further explanation. “E'en after your recovery, she would still benefit from the instruction. If it is your intention to have her succeed you as a magus, she would benefit from training in proper fieldcraft.”

Their arguments in defense of the arrangement were not unreasonable, but I still misliked that such plans were considered without first consulting me. I chose to seek my daughter’s thoughts on the matter; if she approved of the training, ‘twould be far simpler to accept without loss of face. “I would have thy thoughts on the matter, Midnight. Is thy training with Gale of benefit?”

My daughter considered the matter for a time, her gaze shifting between myself and Gale. There was clear hesitation in her voice as she answered. “I always prefer training with you, Mother. But Gale’s lessons are enjoyable as well, other than the calisthenics. I am learning new things. Gale acquired the services of a pair of knights from the Order of Sol Invictus to help me with my defensive magic.” She paused, briefly touching her now-healed leg, before continuing. “I think I may enjoy the time spent with my squad as well. Gale is having much of my education done with the other children in the Kicker Clan. I was uncertain of the applicability of the lessons, but Gale has assured me that she is accounting for the fact that I am not a pegasus.”

I gave the matter careful consideration. To date, I had been quite certain that she would learn best from her own mother. However, my recent errors in that regard had caused me to reexamine that belief, and ‘twas clear that Midnight derived some pleasure from the lessons. I was reasonably wary that Gale might steal my daughter’s loyalty from me, but barring the lessons could easily have much the same effect if Midnight grew to resent the restriction. As Gale said, there was value in having non-magical solutions available. “If thou art enjoying the training and learning things of value from it, then I see no reason we cannot continue it to some degree e’en after my recovery.”

As expected, the news drew a small smile from my daughter, no doubt pleased that she would not have to endure divided loyalties. Though Midnight was properly devoted to me, children will naturally become attached to any caregiver, and Gale Kicker had seen to her needs for the last month. For her part, Gale seemed rather taken aback by my magnanimity—in fairness to her, I do not have a reputation for conceding things easily. However, I saw little point in making an issue over my daughter receiving a superior education.

The approving smile on Celestia’s face also showed that the concession would not be without profit; royal favor is a precious currency indeed, especially with my current plans. “Very good, the matter seems settled, then. As we are on the subject of thy recovery, how fares thy progress with the chirurgeon?”

Ah. A less pleasant matter, though I could at least begin to prepare the ground for my eventual request. “I've noted no changes in my condition, and research continues to be fruitless. However, Temperance would be the better judge.”

The chirurgeon, who had deferentially remained silent whilst his betters spoke, now stepped to the fore. “If I might borrow a moment of your time, Princess? I would discuss the patient’s condition in private.” Despite his efforts to remain calm and professional, I noted a small hint of concern in his tone. Troubling, considering the subject of their discussion.

Celestia excused herself from our company, taking the medicae aside and speaking with him in the adjoining room. Midnight seemed content for the moment to simply rest within my forelegs, though before long she set to poking me with her horn, pausing occasionally to ask if I had felt her efforts. Given that one of her more enthusiastic efforts had drawn a small trickle of blood, ‘twas perhaps not entirely unfortunate that I felt nothing. Thankfully, the wound was minor and fresh enough that I could heal it with ease, once made aware of it.

Whilst Midnight amused herself, Gale remained silent, watching the two of us with an expression that attempted to be a carefully neutral mask, but betrayed a small measure of curiosity and confusion. Though normally less taciturn than her mother, Gale was still very much Shadow’s daughter, and seemed to share her tendency towards stoic, brooding silence when troubling matters occupied her mind. When she finally spoke, ‘twas with the same abruptness I had come to expect from her mother. “I would ask your pardon, for the role I played in your wounding.”

My daughter tensed as the subject was raised, drawing nearer to me and regarding Gale with less warmth than she had a few moments ago. I took note of her reaction, for any wedge I could drive between the two of them was a thing worth remembering. Once I was certain Gale had taken note of my daughter’s disapproval, I answered her request. “I have not forgotten what you did.” Striking me across the face had likely worsened the damage to my neck, though I would never know the severity of it. ‘Twas not a thing easily forgiven.

After allowing her to stew in guilt for a time, I gave my answer. “Revenge is the height of foolishness. If pardon is asked, I grant it.” I have never cared for vengeance; in my experience, it too often interferes with the acquisition and maintenance of power. Regardless, ‘twas only sensible to offer thine enemies mercy when it was asked for. Meeting submission with mercy encourages others to do so, while meeting them with retribution only ensured that they would resist to the very end. E’en Pegasopolis bent its knees when we offered clemency after Maresidian.

Gale fell silent, seeming once more taken unawares by my actions. ‘Twas some time before she spoke again. “I owe you a boon, regardless.”

“Yes, you do.” I might not care for revenge, but a certain degree of recompense was called for after Gale’s actions. “I will collect that in due time. Until then, you shall continue seeing to my daughter’s needs whilst I am unable to do so.”

Gale frowned at me, no longer even attempting to hide her puzzlement. “A rapprochement, then?”

“So it would seem,” I agreed. “Somepony must see to the Viziership until I am recovered. Better you than one of the nobles. Do not grow too comfortable in the position, though—when the time comes, I will reclaim it.” I considered the matter, and chose to offer some consolation. “Though if we are to be on cordial terms, I shall most likely have to find some other use for you within the government. Assuming your mother can spare you.”

“I am sure something could be arranged,” Gale answered reasonably, though her tone grew colder a moment later. “Make no mistake, though. I will repay my boons, and work alongside you for the good of Equestria, but I am not your hooflick.”

Ah, ‘twould seem the thorny pride of the pegasi had been riled. Best to calm it before she did something foolish. “Peace, Gale. I know how matters stand.”

“So long as where matters stand ‘tween us is clear.” Gale answered, still seeming slightly discontented. ‘Twould seem it would be some time before we reached an amicable state of affairs, but for the moment I found civility and recognition of our mutual interests a quite satisfactory conclusion. Other matters would fall into place, given time.

With that matter settled, Midnight proceeded to tell me of her training with Gale in greater detail. The enthusiasm with which she spoke only confirmed that my choice had been the proper one.

She was in the midst of speaking about an obstacle course when Celestia reentered the room, an eternally unreadable expression on her face. “I apologize for the delay, Sunbeam. There are matters we should discuss.” She directed a brief glance towards Gale, and then Midnight.

The pegasus was quick enough to gather her commander’s desires. “Midnight, were there not books that thou didst wish to retrieve from the library?” She stepped forward and gently removed my daughter from her place within my dead forelegs. ‘Twas quite rude of her to do so without asking first, e’en if she did act as Celestia willed.

Midnight also seemed displeased by her removal, her expression downcast as she answered Gale. “Aye, ‘tis so, but I just arrived to see Mother. Surely we could attend to the library just as easily in an hour’s time.”

Celestia cast subtlety to the wind, and addressed her directly. “I would speak with thy mother in private, Midnight. I apologize for depriving thee of her company, and I shall occupy only as much of her time as is needful to conclude our business.”

My daughter’s eyes fell to the floor, but despite her clear displeasure, she could not deny Equestria’s ruler. “Very well, I will be in the library.”

“I will join thee there, once the Princess and I conclude our business,” I assured her.

Gale took my daughter in hoof, guiding her out of the room. Midnight frowned, and for a moment I feared that she might cause an incident by refusing to depart. Thankfully, her discipline won the day, and she dutifully exited the room alongside Gale. Temperance also discreetly exited, no doubt off to attend to some other pony’s needs.

Once we were in privacy, Celestia turned to me, the queenly mask slipping from her face. E’en though no words had left her lips, the remorse and sorrow on her face was plain to see. Given that she had just consulted a chirurgeon regarding my condition before requesting this meeting, ‘twas not hard to guess at the cause of her upset. “My health is that poor, then?”

Celestia offered a single reluctant nod. “I am sorry. Thy body ... ponies were never intended to live in thy condition. Muscles decay from disuse, and e’en thine internal organs weaken with each passing day. Thy health decays faster than Temperance can render it aid, and we are no nearer a cure now than we were weeks ago.”

Ah. So that was the way of it. “How long?”

Celestia let out a heavy breath. “If we struggle to preserve thy life for as long as we can? Perhaps another month. If we allow thee to spend thy days in comfort rather than needlessly prolong thy suffering? Enough time to put thine affairs in order.”

Neither of those options struck me as remotely acceptable. Still, there might be something good to be salvaged from the situation; the urgency of my condition would surely drive Celestia to accept my own planned resolution to the matter. “Have you any solution?”

“One,” Celestia conceded reluctantly. “If I were to seal thee in stone, thy condition would deteriorate no further, allowing us ample time to research and develop new techniques by which thine injury might be undone.”

“Unacceptable,” I answered simply. I certainly had no intention of ending my days as another decoration in the Canterlot statue garden. “I have not been idle in searching for a cure. ‘Twill be decades at best before there is hope, and that is assuming all goes as well as possible. If something were to go amiss, how much longer would I remain imprisoned?” My tone turned cutting as I added, “There would be no urgency to the matter, and thus no reason not to delay for a few centuries.”

Celestia’s head dropped low. “I mislike it as well, Sunbeam, but ‘twill preserve thy life. Better displaced in time than dead.”

“That is so,” I conceded. “However, there is a means by which I might be restored to full health.” I took a moment to prepare myself, then spoke the words that would shape the fate of Equestria. “Ascension would undo my injuries.”

“Ascension?” Celestia repeated incredulously. “Thou art presumptuous indeed to ask such a thing. What right hast thou to stand as my equal?”

“You gave your word, sworn by crown and magic.” My eyes narrowed, and my voice turned cold. “You not only swore to see me restored, but that I would be restored in a way which allowed my daughter to be returned to my care. Centuries of imprisonment would not allow such a thing, and all other options have been exhausted. You must either grant me this boon, or break your oath.”

Celestia fell silent, likely hoping to conjure some way to dispute my words. I did not allow her the chance. “If you do not do this, Celestia, then you will have murdered me. What right has a murderer and oathbreaker to rule? What decent pony would accept such crimes from their princess? You dream of making Equestria a kingdom of conscience, yet would betray your most faithful servant to her death rather than correct a grave injustice?”

Equestria’s ruler opened her mouth to dispute my claims, only to find herself at a loss for words. There were reasonable arguments to be made about the wisdom of granting me Ascension, but the truth of my position was undeniable. My wounds were her doing, and were beyond all hope of healing. Refusing to save my life through Ascension would leave my blood firmly on her hooves. Whatever her doubts as to my suitability, Celestia could not deny the truth of the situation.

A different ruler might have been cold enough to let me pass on, or simply imprison me within stone against my wishes. However, that was not Celestia’s way. Despite her earlier claims, her compassion was a great weakness. If forced to chose between being responsible for my slow and lingering death and elevating me to equal status, her compassion would drive her to the latter.

Finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She was trapped by the unassailable logic of my words and her own sense of morality. She spoke, giving the only answer she could. “So be it then, I shall fulfill my oaths to thee. I shall bestow an alicorn's mantle upon thee. Ascension shall heal thy body, and elevate it far beyond its original state.”

I could scarcely contain a triumphant smile at the concession. “I am glad to hear it. What must be done to arrange the process? When will it occur?”

Celestia was silent for some time, then offered a single nod. “I see no reason to delay the matter needlessly. I will take a few days to speak with ponies and ensure that all is in readiness for thy—for your elevation, and then it shall be done.” She fell into a troubled silence for a time, and then turned to me once more. “Go to your daughter, Sunbeam. I have much to do ere your Ascension, and little time to see it done.”

“Of course, Celestia. I look forward to standing at thy side.” I confess that there was a sort of giddy thrill at addressing Celestia as an equal, but such was privilege afforded by my new rank. Such was my joy at the prospect of my impending elevation that not e’en the need to transport my deadened body to the library could dampen my mood.

Celestia returned at week’s end. I had spent the intervening time immersing myself in what little was known of the alicorns. There was precious little information, both on account of an understandable reticence on Celestia’s part to reveal her capabilities and weaknesses, and fear that it might encourage others to go down the route of the false alicorn.

I confess that I felt no small amount of trepidation at the prospect of ascension. ‘Twas a great unknown, and the process would alter me on the most fundamental of levels. I would no longer be a unicorn, or e’en fully mortal. The thought of such a shift was ... unsettling.

When Celestia finally sought me out, I was somewhat taken aback by her grim countenance. I suppose it should not have come as a great surprise—I had forced her hoof in this matter—but ‘twas still jarring to be reminded that she did not care for my new status. Especially on the day of my greatest triumph.

Once we’d attended to the usual pleasantries, she transported me to the same room I had used for Midnight’s ill-fated training exercise. I was briefly grateful that somepony had cleaned the room since that day, for I would not have cared to be reminded of those events. Rather than linger on such unpleasant thoughts, I opted to move to the matter at hoof. “What must I do to assist thee in the process of Ascension, Celestia?”

Celestia turned to me, and for the first time since her arrival at my tower she seemed almost pleased. “The first step in the process is simplicity itself, Sunbeam. You must die.”

Her horn flashed, and fire consumed me.

Ascension

When I regained my senses, I was no longer in Equestria.

I do not have the words to do justice to where I stood. For that matter, the mere joy I felt at standing once more after a month of convalescence was considerable. However, there were far greater things to experience than the simple sensations of the flesh.

‘Twas as if I had risen up to the very height of all creation, dwelling ‘mongst the stars. I could see the celestial spheres turning through their motions, guiding the stars and planets along their appointed courses. The very mechanistic clockwork of the entire universe, laid bare before my eyes. I could have easily devoted years to the study of this place and only begun to unravel its secrets.

Before I could even begin to appreciate the sight, Celestia stepped out of the sun’s light. There was a clear note of condemnation in her voice when she spoke. “It was never your destiny to come to this place, Sunbeam Sparkle. That will complicate matters, and restrict the means by which I might address your problems.”

“Neigh, I suppose ‘twas not.” I found the pattern of creation far too fascinating to even properly acknowledge the princess. “But then, destiny seems to be a nebulous concept. I am sure you thought ‘twas Shadow’s destiny to take up your sister’s mantle, yet when the time came she refused it. Now I have come to claim that which is mine by rights, e’en if destiny says I am to be denied it.” I made no effort to hide the triumphant smile on my face. “‘Twould seem, Celestia, that ‘destiny’ has little effect on ponies. Or perhaps the truth of things is that ponies write their own fates, and we call the result destiny.”

I turned my head from the heavenly spheres, at last meeting Celestia’s eyes. “I take it, then, that the destruction of my flesh was a needed step in coming to this place. I suppose ‘tis unsurprising. Becoming an alicorn is not simply a matter of sprouting wings.”

“No, it is not,” Celestia agreed. “Doubly so in your case.” She closed her eyes in concentration, and her appearance gradually shifted. While still taller than the average pony, Celestia no longer towered above me, and her mane was now solid pink and had lost the ethereal, ever-shifting quality it normally held. Though still an alicorn, she no longer seemed quite so far beyond the ken of mortal ponies.

“This is what I was, before I mastered the power of the sun.” She spread her wings wide, so that I would not fail to miss them. “I exited my mother’s womb an alicorn, and I shall die one. You, however, seek to elevate yourself beyond the status of your birth. Though I will grant you the power you seek, know that you have not earned the right to it.”

“And why not?” I demanded. “Have I not served you loyally, from the very day I joined the ranks of your magi? Did I not safeguard Equestria, and guide it through the trials and tribulations of the Rebellion? Have I not put in place policies that will ensure your undisputed control o’er all Equestria? What more must a pony do to earn this power?”

“Power,” Celestia repeated, shaking her head as if I were a simple foal failing to grasp the most fundamental of lessons. “Tell me, Sunbeam, what purpose is there to your lust for power? What will you do, once there are no further heights to aspire to?”

“I am not so foolish as to seek power merely for its own sake,” I countered. “Always, I have acted with concrete purpose. Without power, how can one exert their will ‘pon the world at large? Would a powerless magi have been able to shatter the resolve of the Rebellion, or bend the nobles to the will of the crown? I think not.”

“Then you seek power solely so that you might exercise it?” Celestia frowned, and gave a slight shake of her head. “That answer is insufficient. I am well aware of the nature of power and do not require a lecture on its uses. Tell me, what will you do, once the power you seek is yours?”

“What any would do,” I answered simply. “Act for the betterment of myself and Equestria.”

“Is that so?” The skepticism in her voice was plain. “And what if the betterment of Equestria were to conflict with your own desires?”

“Such a thing could never come to pass.” Celestia frowned at that statement, so I proceeded elaborate on the point. “The true interest of any ruler will always coincide with that of the ponies beneath her. Consider, Celestia, that the wellbeing of all Equestria is the only foundation of my greatness once I become your peer. The strength, security, and wealth of Equestria is also my strength, my security, and my wealth. 'Tis the simplest, most fundamental fact of rulership. E'en a pony totally devoid of virtue—as so many believe me to be—would surely grasp that prudence suggests taking much the same course of action in rulership.”

I have never understood why so many ponies believe that an evil ruler would seek to make their realm a den of misery, poverty, and oppression. Those who construct such lurid fantasies rarely stop to consider the practical problems of the matter. Poor citizens offer far less in tax revenues and are far more open to joining rebel movements. Large armies of iron-hoofed oppression are incredibly expensive and often composed of ponies whose loyalty and character is dubious. One must also consider the massive government infrastructure needed to enforce all the needlessly restrictive government policies, as well as all the difficulties inherent with integrating freshly conquered territories...

Celestia did not seem pleased, but said nothing to dispute my claims. “If that is what you believe, then so be it. Come; we have much to do.” She strode off into a seemingly random part of the heavenly spheres, but as I followed her I began to realize the true import of the direction she’d chosen. The distant, blinking lights slowly resolved themselves not into stars, but something else entirely.

Memories.

My memories.

“This is who you are, Sunbeam Sparkle,” Celestia announced, having seemingly read my mind. “More than just your memories, this is the very essence of your being. The sum of everything you are that is not contained within the body.”

“Fascinating.” I glanced at a few of the passing memories in idle curiosity. The day Celestia named me as her Grand Vizier. My duel with Stone Circle, whom I’d deliberately provoked in order to remove him as a candidate for Archmagus of Canterlot. The colt of the warlock Spellfire, as I crafted him into a living weapon to destroy his father before the madpony could unleash doom ‘pon Trottingham. My first meeting with Shadow Kicker. The early days of my own foalhood, as my father tried to impart knowledge of glassmaking unto me. The training session with Midnight.

I was beginning to find that I did not entirely care for this experience. “Are we to spend all day perusing these relics of the past, or shall we proceed with the matter which brought us to this place?”

“Are you so eager to be done with this?” Celestia inquired, arching a single eyebrow. “I would almost think you did not care for the sight of yourself. Come, we have much more to see before ‘tis time for your ascension. Time has little meaning in this place, so we need not hurry ourselves.”

I glowered at her, my suspicion rising. “If this is some ploy to dissuade me from my course...”

“It is not,” Celestia answered quite calmly. “I know you, Sunbeam. Your will is not so easily broken, and there would be little point to attempting it at this juncture. We have already passed the point of no return; your body is naught but ash on the floor of your tower. You will either leave this place an alicorn, or you will never leave it at all.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed in determination. “Do not think for a moment that I would hesitate to leave you here, if I must. The death of one of my little ponies by my own hooves—and the consequences of breaking my own oaths to you—are both burdens of guilt I can endure if the alternative is to cause untold pain and suffering.”

She called for the memory of what I had wrought upon Spellfire’s child. “Is it not as you said, when I asked you to justify this atrocity? That there are times when the few must suffer so that the many may live? I have taken your advice to heart, my vizier. Tell me, how do you care for it when ‘tis applied to you instead of another?”

I confess, the change of perspective did make the matter rather unpleasant.

“I would also caution you, Sunbeam,” Celestia continued, “that e’en after you ascend to the ranks of alicorns, you will not lie beyond my power.”

Still, there was an obvious point of contention. “If you intended my death, you would already have seen to it. There would be no point to this lingering conversation if my doom had already been sealed.”

Celestia conceded the matter with a single resigned nod. “That much is true.” She called forth more of my experiences, idly sifting through acts both foul and fair. “You are many things, Sunbeam Sparkle, but the one thing you are not is a monster. That is why I have given you so many chances to better yourself. It is why I will give you this one chance to become something more than what you currently are. I truly believe that all ponies—even ponies like you—have within them the capacity for goodness. That for all your foul and infamous deeds, you still have the capacity to better yourself if you wish to do so.”

“Some would call that belief foolish,” I cautioned her. “Many of your own closest advisors amongst them. What did Gale and Shadow have to say when you informed them of your plans to elevate me? Did they approve of your choice, or did they warn you that I would surely betray you to your death?”

“Both of them were strongly opposed to my decision.” Celestia paused, then slowly reached out and placed a hoof upon my shoulder. “However, this is one time when I cannot accept their counsel. Despite all that you are, and all that you might do, I still believe that it is within you to better yourself. Some may call that foolish, or e’en dangerously naive. I would say to them that it is of the utmost importance to believe that everypony has the capacity for goodness within them.”

“For once, I find myself in agreement with Shadow and Gale both,” I declared. “What does it matter if a pony has the capacity for goodness when their every act is wicked? Devoting your time to seeing the virtues of your enemies merely leaves you vulnerable to their hidden blades.”

“Perhaps so.” She paused and directed a loaded glance towards me. “Perhaps my need to believe in the better nature of ponykind has already undone me. I confess that your redemption has been something of a long-term project of mine. There is a darkness within you, Sunbeam Sparkle. ‘Twould have been far too easy for you to embrace it, and yet you have never fully succumbed. There have been times when you seemed to have given in to your darker impulses, but you always found your way back to the light in due time.”

Celestia gazed down, meeting my eyes. “I do not know if you will ever be a good mare, Sunbeam Sparkle, but I would like to think that I have at least saved you from being naught but another villain in the long list of those who plagued Equestria.” To my utter shock, she pulled me into a gentle embrace, like a mother comforting a young foal. “I cannot say if I will ever succeed in showing you how to be a righteous mare, Sunbeam, but I will never cease in attempting it. Perhaps that makes me a fool, for wishing to believe in something impossible. If so, then I contend that it is the best sort of folly. How will my little ponies ever become better if their Princess does not believe in them?”

One of my ears flicked in irritation. “I do not require redemption or salvation, Celestia. I do not know whether your insistence upon ‘believing’ in me is flattering or insulting. In either case, it is neither required, nor desired.”

“I know your feelings on the matter, Sunbeam.” She leaned down and bestowed a single kiss upon my forehead. “And yet, I will continue to believe in you regardless. Whatever else you do, and whatever you might become at the end of this, you will always be my little pony, and I will always love you.” She slowly released me from her embrace, offering a smile that seemed mournful while still carrying a queer sort of pride to it. “It was never your destiny to become an alicorn ... but I suppose you always were fond of the idea that you wrote your own destiny. Let us see what you make of it.”

The heavenly spheres flashed white, and light consumed me.

I was alive.

No. More than just alive. I could feel the life coursing through my veins like rivers of molten fire. ‘Twas beyond incredible. At that moment, it seemed as if the simple striking of my hooves could reduce mountains to rubble, and a single spell would suffice to reduce all of Canterlot to ash. The mere beating of my wings could flatten homes and conjure storms.

My wings. My wings!

I spread my new appendages wide, marveling at the feel and appearance of them. ‘Twas a most curious sensation to have these new feathery limbs attached to my body. Especially as I had been a cripple long enough to become somewhat used to the condition. Not only was I reacquainting myself with the use of my limbs, but now I had two more to grow accustomed to as well. Still, I would be quite content if that was the greatest problem before me.

I think I could be forgiven for so exulting in my triumph to the point that I failed to notice the crowd gathering. ‘Twas only natural that they would wish to pay homage to their new princess. Neigh, not princess. I never cared for that title, and advised Celestia against taking it. Now that the power was mine, ‘twas only proper that I set things to rights. I quickly gathered my thoughts and adopted an appropriately regal demeanour, drawing up to my new, far more impressive height. “KNEEL BEFORE THINE EMPRESS, MY SUBJECTS!” Though I normally disliked the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice, there are occasions where a certain theatrical touch is called for.

To my immense irritation, the ponies of Canterlot did not act as ordered. Rather than fall to their knees before their new ruler, the crowd milled about in confusion until Shadow Kicker stepped forward. “Sunbeam.” I felt a flash of anger at the distinct absence of my chosen title, but before I could put my mind to a suitable rebuke Shadow continued onward. “Where is Commander Celestia? What have you done with her?”

Before I could answer the query, though in truth I had no idea where Celestia was after our encounter in the heavens, the crowd began to grow restive. One of the more foolish members let out a furious shout. “She has stolen Celestia’s power! Traitor! Usurper!”

Once the accusation was made, the crowd’s mood turned even fouler. For a moment, I wondered if my first act as an empress of Equestria would be to unleash my newfound alicorn powers upon my subjects. A massacre was hardly an uplifting note with which to begin my reign.

“Calm thyselves!” I confess that my relief at hearing Celestia’s voice was considerable. ‘Twould seem that despite my new title, I would be forced to rely upon her for guidance, at least for a time. I suppose it could not be helped. There is a considerable difference between serving as a trusted and honored advisor and wearing the crown for oneself.

Though that line of thought did serve to remind me that I would need a crown. Something properly reflecting the power and glory of my new status. One can hardly be a proper empress if one does not look the part.

The crowd slowly parted, and Celestia stepped forward. It was at that moment that my triumph began to crumble around me.

Celestia was not as I remembered her. Rather, she had the appearance that she had taken on whilst we spoke within the heavens. Still a mare of considerable presence, but no longer the towering figure she had once been. Shadow Kicker could nearly meet her eyes without looking upward at all, and I was actually forced to look down at her. ‘Twas a most strange and uncomfortable sensation. I did not understand why this had come to pass. Why would she be so diminished by surrendering her sister’s mantle to—

Neigh.

She could not have.

Why would she do such a thing?

I retreated into the confines of my own mind, seeking out the source of the new power that dwelt within me. That was when I felt it. A raw, pulsing line of fire, light, and life connecting me to the flaming orb that hung within the sky. 'Twas an undeniable heat within my body, as though I had sunk into a hot bath after a day in the snow; from my core to the tips of my hooves and my newly acquired wings, there was warmth. Almost too much. A roiling, bubbling well of magic ignited, arced, and settled back into my body, a sensation I felt—aye, felt—keenly on the surface of the celestial body whose fires this mantle echoed.

Of the moon, I felt nothing. There was only one conclusion: she had not given me Luna’s abandoned mantle, but her own.

I stared at Celestia in utter bewilderment, trying to make sense of this turn of events. I simply could not bring myself to understand her actions. O’er and o’er, the question repeated itself in my mind: why would she do such a thing? There was no reason to it.

Celestia strode to my side, effortlessly commanding the crowd’s attention despite her diminished state. Even though she was now merely of a height with the largest of mortal ponies, her raw presence and force of personality remained undiminished. If anything, they seemed all the stronger, as if her reduction had somehow increased her ability to connect with her subjects on a fundamental level. Perhaps it was because she was smaller now, and thus less intimidating and distant?

She gazed out over the crowd, a perfectly calm and serene smile on her face. “My little ponies, I understand that a great deal of fear and confusion will be caused by this turn of events. However, I assure each and every one of thee that there is nothing to fear. Thou art all safe, and thou shalt continue to be safe in the coming days. I promise I will fully explain this event to all of thee in the fullness of time. However, for the moment I must speak with thy new empress.” There was a barely perceptible pause as she announced my title, and for a moment I could swear that I saw a faint, almost mocking curl of her lips. As if my refusal to accept being a mere princess was some grand jest.

Perhaps it was, at that. It might be that the entire affair was nothing more than an elaborate joke. Matters had not proceeded as I had originally envisioned. My new subjects had been on the verge of open defiance before Celestia calmed them, and I bore the wrong mantle of power. I did not think it likely Celestia could have erred in the matter, and thus I faced a far more terrible conclusion: Celestia was in the midst of hatching some scheme.

In hindsight, I should have guessed it. For all her apparent misgivings, she had folded far too easily to my wishes. Her resistance to my ascension had been little more than a token effort, and a few quick assurances that I would not grossly abuse my new power. Now I held far more power than I had dared to dream, even at my most ambitious. I stood not merely as Celestia’s equal, but as her superior in every single measurable way. By all rights, this should have been the greatest triumph imaginable.

And yet, I was uneasy. More than that, there was a terrible sinking sensation within the pit of my stomach. Dread. The feeling a mouse has, in the instant between when the trap is triggered and the moment it snaps shut.

As the crowd dispersed, Celestia turned to me, that knowing and faintly amused smile now firmly in place upon her countenance. At that moment I did not feel like the supreme Empress of Equestria, but rather a filly caught by her mother in the act of swiping a pie from the windowsill.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of it all was that I still did not e’en understand what had passed. ‘Tis one thing to be undone by the trickery of one’s foes, and quite another to be so beaten without e’en grasping how the defeat had come to pass.

“You are beginning to understand now, are you not?” Celestia asked. I was strangely pleased to learn that not e’en the loss of her mantle could undo her fondness for speaking in riddles. ‘Twould seem some aspects of her character were indeed unchanging.

“Understand what?” I demanded, making no effort to hide my irritation with the situation.

“Everything.” Damn her and her cryptic answers. Could she not speak plainly?

Before my irritation could mount too much, she had mercy and offered me something beyond answers so vague as to be incomprehensible. Though she did not explain herself, she did at least provide more than empty words masquerading as profundity. “How fares your daughter, Empress?”

“My daughter?” E’en as my thoughts turned to her, I felt an odd sort of twinge in the back of my mind. ‘Twas a difficult thing to put into plain words, but I experienced a sudden sort of awareness regarding Midnight. Well, perhaps not so much awareness as a knowledge of the potential for awareness. ‘Twas similar to the sensation one experiences when asked to call to mind some text one had committed to memory many years ago. Whilst the knowledge always dwelt within the depths of one’s mind, ‘twas normally far distant from one’s active thoughts, yet readily available when required.

Somewhere within the depths of my own consciousness, there was a thread of thought connecting my daughter and I. ‘Twas simplicity itself to grasp that thread and follow it back to its source. In that moment, my mind connected with my daughter’s. What followed was nothing so crude and intrusive as a mere invasion of her mind; rather, it was a sort of sharing, on a level far beyond that of mere words and thoughts. ‘Twas as if our very essence intermingled for a few brief moments.

I felt everything about her. Her hopes. Her dreams. Her fears. Her aspirations. Everything. Most of all, I saw the most fundamental of the ties that bind us together. The bond between mother and daughter, our fates—our destinies—were inextricably intertwined, for good or for ill.

The more I studied that connection, the less I cared for it. I had never given a great deal of thought to the question of what it meant to be a mother, or to have her as a daughter. She was my child, the heir to my legacy, and ‘twas my responsibility to care for her and see to her preparation for adulthood. I confess I had even developed a certain fondness for her, over the years. Though I was well aware that I had shaped her destiny, I had never truly put any great thought into what that truly meant.

However, now that I had this new alicorn’s perspective on the matter, all was cast into stark and undeniable clarity. The consequences of my every choice laid bare. I could see the pattern of her life slowly taking shape before me, driven forward by the choices I had made in raising her. I did not care for what I saw.

My daughter was lonely. Terribly lonely. Her heart yearned for love from a mother who saw her as nothing more than another tool in her quest for power. A means of escaping mortality’s clutches by protecting her legacy. There was a quiet desperation growing within her heart, an irrational need to drive forward in the vain hope that some new accomplishment might finally earn her mother’s love.

Then I found the more recent scars upon her psyche, from the event I called nothing more than an unimportant training exercise gone awry. I saw now how terribly wrong I was in that assertion. There were so many terrible things growing within my daughter as a result of that single incident. Pain at the belief that she had somehow failed to meet my expectations. Guilt over all that I had suffered as a consequence of that ill-fated choice. Fear that I might ask her to undergo such exercises again once I recovered. And within the deepest, darkest places of her heart, a growing fury and resentment towards me, for she knew that her injury had been unjust.

I had been aware in the past that my choice might have had a negative impact on my daughter. However, that knowledge had never been of excessive concern to me. A bit of pain and suffering is just a part of the growing process, and those ills my daughter suffered would ultimately make her all the stronger.

‘Twas far easier to hold such a belief when I was blessedly ignorant of the harm my acts had caused Midnight. Now, due to my new insight into her condition as a result of my ascension, I was forced to confront the consequences of my actions. The full knowledge of all the pain, suffering, and deprivation I had subjected her to due to my many inadequacies as a mother and a pony.

It did not even end with a harsh assessment of Midnight’s current condition. Beyond that, there lay an infinite web of causes and consequences. Some ponies have theorized that one of Celestia’s many abilities was a sort of foresight. The truth was somewhat more complicated: she could not see the future, but she could see the nature of ponies and the ties that bound them together, in an infinite, ever-expanding web of possibilities.

Not only did I see every single way I had hurt my daughter, I also saw all the ills that might befall her as a consequence of my actions. I have always believed that knowledge is superior to ignorance, and ‘tis foolishness to deceive oneself as to the true nature of one’s own actions. Never before had I wished so fervently to hide from an unpleasant truth. I had only sought to give my daughter the strength and skills she needed to survive in a dangerous world. But now I could see far too many outcomes where my daughter fell into darkness—where the name Midnight Sparkle would be spoken in hushed whispers by terrified, huddled masses. And all because of my choices.

My daughter was not e’en the end of it. E’en as I touched on her life, I felt the connections she had forged with ponies besides myself. Midnight was connected to Gale, who in turn connected to Shadow and many other ponies within and outside of Clan Kicker, and every single one of those ponies had their connections as well.

When I had stood in the heavens with Celestia, I had dared to think that given enough time I might somehow unravel the very pattern of the universe. The cold, unfeeling laws that drove the mechanisms of reality. The very nature of the universe itself. The fundamental forces that connected everything.

However, Celestia’s simple question had driven me to a different, far more important realization. Not about the universe, but about all ponykind. Just as the laws of reality connected things, so all ponies were all connected to one another in a single great chain of being. Our actions, our thoughts, our beliefs, they all had consequences for the whole. Every single choice unleashed waves across the entirety of the whole. The pain and suffering of evil actions, and all the joy that altruism might create.

Harmony and disharmony. I’d never really understood what those words meant until now, but with this perspective ... it was all so obvious!

I saw everything. I understood everything. And I realized how terribly wrong I had been.

I do not know how long I stood there, in the middle of the Canterlot Royal Gardens as I struggled to wrap my mind around the new vistas that had opened before me. It was not until Celestia set a hoof on my shoulder and called my name that I was finally prompted to return my attention to the world before me. From the way my name echoed within my ears, I suspected that Celestia had been attempting to draw my notice for some time. E’en so, the web of causes and consequences lingered large in my thoughts.

Celestia smiled at me, still carrying an air of maternal wisdom about her despite the loss of the Sun’s mantle. “Sunbeam, my little pony, did you really think me ignorant of what you sought to accomplish? Did you think me so easily beaten and manipulated? I applaud you for your ingenuity and daring.” She leaned forward, and whispered into my ear, “However, the truth is that we were never e’en playing the same game. I know not what outcome you sought, but I do believe I have won the day.”

I still could not make sense of it. I had obtained the ultimate power, undisputed mastery of all Equestria. And yet, somehow I was beaten at the same time. It simply made no sense. How had Celestia undone me by surrendering her power? ‘Twas inconceivable.

And yet, as I walked through the royal quarters in the palace, quarters that were now mine instead of hers, the truth of it yet lingered over my mind. What possible objective could she have achieved that would justify the loss of power and her very immortality? Why surrender so much when simply granting me her sister’s mantle would have achieved the same effect? The more I thought on the matter, the less sense the choices made. Everything I could see indicated that she had suffered a devastating defeat, yet she considered the current outcome a triumph. I misliked that, for the only conclusion to be drawn from those facts was that Celestia had somehow undone me so thoroughly that e’en after the fact it was beyond my comprehension.

“Mother?” My daughter’s voice jarred me from my thoughts, taking me quite by surprise. I should have heard her entering my rooms; though she has a talent for silence, mine own senses are quite keenly honed. Magi who are easily taken unawares rarely survive to live full and successful careers.

I turned to face my daughter, needing a brief moment to find her on account of my considerably changed height. The anatomical changes I had undergone would no doubt require considerable adjustment. My royal dignity would not be well-served by striking my head or wings ‘pon every low-hanging ceiling. Eventually, I managed to move my neck to a point where I could comfortably meet my daughter’s eyes.

“Midnight. My child...” I found myself at quite a loss for what to say to my daughter. After everything I had seen, all that Celestia had exposed me to regarding my treatment of her, ‘twas difficult to put my thoughts into words. I was not in the habit of apologizing for my perceived misdeeds, yet in this circumstance I found myself hard-pressed to deny that an apology might not be merited. Perhaps ‘twould be wiser to simply speak with her as I normally did, but I was uncertain if such was e’en within my capabilities. Could I simply carry on being her mother, after all I had seen?

My daughter stepped forward, her gaze travelling up and down my new body as if she were struggling to come to grips with it. Given my own difficulties in adjusting to my new form, I could quite empathize with her predicament. ‘Twas curious, how easily I understood her moods and thoughts now that I was an alicorn. “You are walking once more,” Midnight finally declared, apparently having settled upon adjusting to the simpler facts first. “You are also larger, and now have wings. Have you somehow become a false alicorn? I hope you do not become a twisted, horrible abomination against ponykind which must feed upon the souls of the innocent to sustain itself. That would be unpleasant.”

“Indeed it would.” I do not know why my daughter has such morbid flights of fancy at times. Perhaps I should do something to address the matter at some point in the future, especially now that my new insights into her character and destiny would make it far easier to render aid in such matters. Fow now, however, other matters pressed. “I am no false alicorn, daughter, but a true one. ‘Twould seem I am to rule Equestria now, in Celestia's place.”

Midnight regarded me flatly, her eyes slowly blinking as she considered my words. “So there was a coup? I am surprised; those usually involve far more violence, death, and bloodshed. Will you be executing traitors and mounting their heads ‘pon the walls of Canterlot soon? If so, I would ask that you inform me of where Gale’s head is to be placed, so that I might avoid it. E’en after the horrors of calisthenics, I do not wish to see her severed head.”

“Neigh, ‘twas not a coup, and there will be no executions.” E’en if I had o’erthrown Celestia, I could hardly send Gale to the chopping block. My recent rapprochement with her aside, Shadow’s support or at least tacit acceptance would be required if I wished for a smooth transition of power, and removing Gale’s head would make that most difficult.

My daughter stared at me unblinkingly, awaiting further explanation. “What has happened was more akin to a succession than an usurpation,” I explained. “Celestia has surrendered the Sun Mantle to me and acknowledged me as the Empress of Equestria.” Though she had not yet formally named me as her successor or announced her own abdication, such things were only a matter of time if the current state of things continued.

Midnight cocked her head to the side, much like a bird studying a particularly interesting morsel of food. “I do not understand. Why would she do such a thing?”

“I am not entirely sure,” I confessed. I had attempted to seek out Celestia’s mind much as I had my daughter’s, but my efforts had proven quite fruitless. I suppose ‘twas no surprise she knew how to defend herself against her own abilities. ‘Twould likely be centuries before my own understanding of the powers that accompanied mastery of the sun could even begin to approach her own knowledge. “I think this seeming abdication is merely part of some grander scheme of hers.”

I was briefly reminded of an old Unicornian legend, stemming from the days before the three tribes of ponykind found unity. One of the old kings learned of a prophecy that a terrible calamity would befall the king of Unicornia on a specific day, and thus arranged a temporary abdication so that one of his political enemies would hold the crown when doom struck the kingdom. Once the prophecy came to pass, the old king reclaimed his crown, and continued ruling in peace and prosperity.

I wondered if Celestia might be in the midst of a similar scheme. It certainly explained her actions as well as any other thing I could imagine. Such an act would be most unlike her, though. Furthermore, if she needed an expendable fool, there was no shortage of ponies both more expendable and more foolish than I.

Midnight sat frowning in thought, every bit as puzzled by Celestia’s actions as I was. “If there is some grander design at work here, then 'tis a scheme far beyond my understanding. Monarchs are not in the habit of abdicating unless heavily pressured to do so. Were this during the Rebellion I might understand, but as matters stand now...”

“Just so.” I slowly spread and closed my wings as an excuse to think the matter over further. It seemed a worthwhile activity to work at attempting improve my intuitive grasp of where they were in relation to the rest of my body, and how they altered my balance. I suppose I would need to make arrangements for flying lessons as well—it seemed rather a waste to have a pair of wings I was incapable of using properly.

More’s the pity that the matter of my wings would be far more easily addressed than that of Celestia. “I suspect that her motives might well elude me for many years to come. The only thing I am reasonably certain of at the moment is that her desire to see my wounds healed was genuine.” I tried as best I could to put the matter from my mind—’twas plain to see that I simply did not have the needed information to grasp Celestia’s motives. Until such time as I did, there little point in troubling myself further over the matter. “Regardless of her reasons, I now reign in Equestria.”

“So you do,” Midnight acknowledged. “If you do not intend to purge all opposition and potential threats to your power, then what shall you do?”

“I suppose I must see to an orderly transition, first and foremost. Then, the economy—we have yet to recover from the losses of the Rebellion, and I would not wish to see Equestria enter a long period of decline. ‘Tis all too common in the aftermath of war.” There were already many potential problems looming in Equestria’s near future, such as the loss of many of the best and brightest young magi to the fighting. ‘Twas part of why I had such high expectations of Midnight: the apprentices of her generation would need to achieve enough that Equestria would not suffer for all those magi who would never have the chance to create new magic and unveil innovative research.

Once more my thoughts lingered on my daughter. It would seem that my confusion over Celestia’s actions was not the only matter that occupied much of my mind. ‘Twas all but impossible to forget what Celestia had unveiled to me regarding my treatment of Midnight. I felt a most unaccustomed degree of apprehension as I turned to her, and began to broach the subject. “I would have thy thoughts on my transformation, my child.”

My daughter hesitated, and the most aggravating new sense of empathy Celestia had bestowed upon me forewarned me that she was attempting to find the answer that would be most pleasing to me rather than expressing her true thoughts. “I am pleased for you. You are now the sovereign of Equestria. Also you will now live, and I will not lose my mother. That is preferable.”

“I am glad to hear that, then.” That small declaration of approval sent a tiny pulse of relief through Midnight, almost as if she feared that failing to provide the answer I desired might result in some punishment.

My daughter was terrified of me. More specifically, the consequences of failing to meet my expectations. A difficult task, with how high I set them.

I slowly settled onto the floor next to Midnight, attempting to make myself seem less imposing. Not an easy task, considering the massive bulk of my new alicorn form. E’en though my new body was quite trim and slender, there was just so very much of it. “Midnight, my child ... not only shalt thou have thy mother for many, many years to come, but I will endeavour to be a better mother to thee in the future than I have been thus far.”

Midnight met my remark with a confused frown. “I am afraid that I do not understand, Mother.”

I found myself experiencing some difficulty in finding the proper words. ‘Twas almost as if I were on the verge of being o’ercome with emotion. “I have not been a good mother to thee, my child. I shall do better, in the future.” Celestia’s teats, now I was all but repeating myself, I was at such a loss for words. ‘Twas difficult to think clearly when so many strange new emotions assailed my psyche.

My daughter glanced down at the floor, one foreleg idly stroking the small white streak on her foreleg that marked the spot where my errant stone had stricken her. “What will that mean? Will things be different between us? How will they be different? There will be many changes, neigh?” She paused, her gaze now fully fixed on her fresh scar. “I hope that they will be good changes.”

“It is my intention to ensure that they are,” I promised her. I hesitated for a moment, then slowly spread my forelegs towards Midnight, offering an embrace. It seemed the proper thing to do. “I cannot promise that I shall be a perfect mother to thee, but I shall endeavour to be a better one. Whatever else there is between us, thou art my beloved daughter.”

Midnight stared at my opened forelegs for some time, then slowly entered my embrace, hesitantly placing her cheek against my chest. “What is to come of me now that you are the ruler of Equestria? Your new duties will keep you busy, will they not? Will you have time for me, or will I be given over to another’s care once more? Will we at least have time to play in the snow?” She paused, and then quickly corrected, “Have our training sessions together in the snow.”

“My duties will consume a great deal of my time,” I conceded, raising a hoof to forestall any complaint on her part. “However, I will take the needed measures to ensure that I give thee the attention that a mother should grant to her daughter.”

“That is good, then.” She nuzzled my chest, then slowly turned to face me, a hesitant smile adorning her lips. “Does your elevation mean that I am now a princess? Will I be placed within a distant castle, suspended over a lake of lava and guarded by a dragon who incinerates all would-be-suitors who would dare approach, whilst I watch the events from my tower?” She sounded almost disturbingly pleased by the idea. “Perhaps deadly puzzles as well...”

As I often did when confronted by my daughter’s rather unusual trains of thought, I opted not to address the stranger questions, but instead focus ‘pon the simple and practical concerns. “The daughter of the Empress would be a princess, yes. Do not think that entitles thee to excessive privilege, or that thou shalt be coddled and waited upon by the castle’s staff to the point that thou art naught but a pampered foal. Though thou art my treasured child, there are limits.”

Midnight let forth a resigned sigh at the news. “Aye, as it was when you were Grand Vizier and Archmagus.”

There was an echo of sadness in her tone that stirred my heart’s strings in a most unexpected way. Ere I could give the matter any deeper thought, the words left my lips almost entirely of their own accord. “A few small allowances might be possible, however. I recall that thou didst recently request a cat.”

Her ears perked forward attentively, and the barest hints of a budding smile appeared on her face. “Aye, I wish for a pet. I am still saddened that you did not allow me to retain ownership of the unkindness of ravens that once followed me home. Though I think I would have preferred a murder of crows, given a choice. However, absent either of those, a cat will suffice.” She once more cocked her head to the side. “May I choose its name?”

Despite my better judgment warning against it, I answered affirmatively. “Naturally. ‘Tis thine own pet, is it not?”

“My thanks to you, Mother!” The smile Midnight offered me in response to this news briefly gave me cause to be grateful that she usually contented herself with a small, barely perceptible upward turn in the far corners of her lips. My daughter’s smiles are ... rather unique.

Midnight considered the matter for some time, then nodded and confidently announced, “I want to name her Queen Meowington Luna Selene Celestia Solaris of House Sparkle, Cat Queen of Cat Queens Ruling Over Cat Queens, Feline Above All Felines, Warden Against Pestilence and Vermin, and Pet of the Great and Wise Midnight Sparkle!” She briefly paused, then amended, “First of her name.”

Her enthusiasm for the matter did her credit, at the least. Still, practical considerations should not be entirely overlooked. “Perhaps something shorter, for casual gatherings and ease of use?”

Midnight frowned, clearly displeased by the request, and reluctantly allowed, “Though I would prefer that her full and proper name be used whenever possible, if pressed for time, she will also answer to Lady Whiskers.”

“Very good then, my daughter.” I suppose one could say that we had made progress of a sort, at least.

Celestia sought me out that evening. Or rather, what would have passed for evening, were it not for the fact that the sun’s course now lay in my hooves, and I was less than proficient in controlling it. I had already undertaken a cursory examination into the matter, but all that revealed was my own inability to grasp how I might control the motions of the heavenly spheres. No doubt I could unravel their workings given sufficient time—the unicorns of old had managed the task in the days before Celestia and Luna, and some of their knowledge was surely preserved. However, there seemed little need to dig through dusty old tomes when Celestia already possessed the knowledge I desired.

Curious as it was to be an alicorn, ‘twas stranger still to see Celestia so diminished. She had been the one constant in Equestria for as long as I had lived. I suspect a large part of why so many ponies supported Celestia against the Rebellion was that they simply could not conceive of an Equestria where she did not sit upon the throne, eternal and unchanging.

And yet, I had undone her. ‘Twas a frightening and humbling thing to realize.

“Hail, Sunbeam.” Celestia offered a cordial smile as she entered the royal quarters. I briefly wondered if the rooms should be considered hers or mine, now. As Empress they were mine by rights, but she had lived in these rooms for more than a century. It seemed unspeakably rude to just summarily eject her the instant my status was confirmed. Where would she e’en go, now that I had taken the palace from her? It would not do to have the former ruler of Equestria bedding down in an alley like a common vagrant.

Celestia calmly met my eyes, and in that moment I suspected that she somehow knew all my thoughts. ‘Twas a most unsettling thing. With the power of an alicorn and the mantle of the very sun itself I should exist on a level beyond her, and yet I felt e’en weaker and more foolish compared to her now. It simply was not the proper order to things.

“I have come to instruct you in the raising and setting of the sun and moon.” She sounded entirely too serene in discussing the matter. There was no pain, anger, or regret when she spoke of her lost power. Just a calm acceptance. ‘Twas beyond unsettling.

“Why?” I did not even realize I had spoken the word until it passed my lips.

Celestia either failed to grasp the true meaning of my question, or chose to deliberately misinterpret it as a jest. She always did have a trickster’s spirit. “The movements of sun and moon are of vital importance to the maintenance of all life in Equestria. Without the cycle of day and night, the planet will—”

A sudden mad fury o’ertook me, and I lifted the former princess bodily in my hooves, then forced her back against the wall. The impact caused the entire room to briefly tremble, and Celestia let forth a small, wordless gasp of surprise and pain. ‘Twould seem my physical capabilities had been greatly improved as well. “Do not toy with me, Celestia! You know of what I speak!”

“By your will, Empress.” Celestia’s attempt to sound submissive was supremely unconvincing. Despite our relative positions, there was no fear in her eyes. Just a quiet, calm confidence. “If you do not wish to be instructed in how to raise the Sun and Moon, what topic shall we discuss? I am, of course, at your disposal.”

“Do not grovel,” I snapped at her. “I’ve never cared for it, and from you it only seems a mockery.” I released her from the wall, and felt a most unaccustomed twinge of guilt as I saw her gingerly rubbing her back, where I had caused her to strike the wall. A moment’s thought brought a simple healing spell to mind, and I undid what damage I had caused. “I apologize for my outburst, Princess, and beg your pardon for it.”

“An empress need hardly ask a princess for forgiveness,” Celestia answered me. “However, I thank you for it. Now, on to the more important matters before us.”

I took a single calming breath, and tried to reorder my thoughts. “Why was I given the mantle of the sun, Celestia? Control over the moon was readily available, and you would not have needed to sacrifice your own immortality and power.”

Celestia stepped aside, quietly setting to work gathering her personal effects from the royal quarters. She was so long in answering my question that I was near to losing patience with her when she finally spoke. “My sister’s mantle is not a cheap set of robes, to be bargained and bartered for. Nor will I use it to make right mine own errors. Your injuries were my doing; ‘twould not be fitting to surrender Luna’s mantle to make the matter right.”

“I would prefer it.” I was surprised by how emphatic my words were. “Equestria would be better served by two empresses than one. There is no reason for you to surrender your immortality.”

“Somepony must.” Celestia offered a slow, resigned shake of head. “Without the power of the sun or moon to sustain you, you will surely die. Only a precious few ponies will ever be born with the natural capacity to become an alicorn, and you are not among their number. There might be a means of o’ercoming that deficiency, but I do not know it. For the moment, there are three ponies who require a mantle, and but two mantles to be had.”

“Your sister is mad, Celestia.” I felt my muscles tense in barely contained anger and frustration. “Have you so quickly forgotten the crimes of Nightmare Moon? Or the actions taken by her avatar in the course of the war?”

“I have not forgotten what Nightmare Moon is responsible for,” Celestia answered grimly. “Nor will I allow those crimes to go unanswered. However, my sister does not deserve to have her power stripped away for Nightmare Moon’s crimes.”

“But you deserve it for yours?” I demanded. “E’en I would say that betwixt the two of you, your crimes against me are nothing compared to the Nightmare’s crimes against all of ponykind.”

“The Nightmare's attempt to overthrow me was ended ere she had the chance to cause any true harm.” A distant look passed through her eyes as Celestia thought back to old pains. “My sister's banishment was destructive, but mercifully swift and isolated. As for the actions of the Nightmare's Avatar, I am uncertain to what degree my sister is culpable for its wrongdoings. My actions against you were unwarranted, and o'erharsh. Nor were you the first; merely the culminating case. My—your little ponies—once thought me perfect. Some e'en still might. But I am far from such. The Rebellion would not have happened, had I ruled more ably.”

“I likely did not help matters in that regard.” ‘Twas strange, but speaking thus with Celestia seemed to make it far simpler to be open about my own insufficiencies. Perhaps because she likely knew them better than I did. “If your flaws are such that you no longer deserve to rule, then what of mine? I am no less flawed, and if my raising of my daughter is any indication...”

“You have already grasped your errors, Sunbeam. I have confidence that in due time, you will take the measures needed to correct them.” Celestia stepped forward, a gentle, almost maternal smile on her face. “I have faith in you, my little pony.” Her gaze flicked between herself and I, and a wry grin appeared on her mouth. “Though I might need to find a better endearment, in your case. ‘Tis more than passing strange to call you little when you are larger than I.”

“I see no harm in allowing it.” In truth, ‘twas somewhat calming to see that her stature was one of the only things about her that had changed. Perhaps that demonstration of her enduring wisdom was what prompted the next words from my lips. “An empress needs a proper grand vizier, and I can think of nopony in Equestria who knows more about governance and leadership than you.”

Celestia considered my offer for a few moments, then offered a nod and another faintly amused smile. “I did not have any other plans for my time, and I do wish to be of service to Equestria, even in my current diminished state. Beyond which, serving as such will allow me to keep a close watch on you.” A genial grin robbed her next words of the bite they might otherwise have carried. “If you should misuse the power I have granted you, I am still fully capable of reclaiming it. I would not wish to do so, for ‘twould mean your death, but if circumstances force the matter...”

“I am ... surprisingly reassured by that.” At least Celestia was not so optimistically naive as to grant me control over Equestria with no potential checks against my authority. “Though I do wonder what shall come to pass once you are ... no longer among us.” The mere thought of Celestia’s inevitable demise, now that she had become mortal, was jarring.

Celestia’s response was entirely unexpected: she greeted my concerns with a snort of laughter. “Really now, Sunbeam, you make it sound as if I am liable to fall over dead any moment now. I would hazard that I have at least half a century of life left in me, perhaps more. If I still have not redeemed you by the time my own end nears, I can always take back the throne, having allowed you a long and full life. I do not think that will be needed, though.” She stepped forward, wrapping her forelegs around me in a maternal embrace. “Star Swirl once said that the greatest test of a pony’s character was to grant them power and see how ‘twas used. I think you will be up to the challenge.”

That was when everything fell into place for me. “I believe I understand what you meant, when you told me that we were not contending for the same goals. I sought power, while you sought to make me into a mare worthy of wielding it. However, the why of it still escapes me. Why sacrifice so much, just to redeem a single pony?”

“Because one cannot put a price upon salvation,” she answered me. She offered another wry grin, and added, “Also, I once made a wager with my sister regarding the question of whether anypony could be redeemed. If she is ever restored to sanity, I fully intend to find some way of returning to life in order to collect the five bits she owes me.”

“How is it that you are so at ease with this?” I could not comprehend how, within hours of losing her immortality, Celestia could casually jest about her own inevitable death.

Celestia was silent for some time before finally answering me. “I have spent several centuries reigning over Equestria. Though it has been a long, difficult process, and I have made my share of errors, I would say that I have had a good reign.”

Her gaze shifted to the window, and I noted that Shadow Kicker stood in the courtyard. Celestia’s gaze lingered on the mare, and I wondered if, now that the barriers of duty and station were no longer an issue, she might take action regarding their mutual longing. The former princess gave a single nod, and a content smile spread across her face. “I think that now, I would like to have a good life.”

Such is the tale of my rise to the throne.

I needlessly wounded my daughter in an ill-conceived training exercise. I attacked my rightful ruler. I conspired to steal the power of the very goddess herself. I, quite arguably, murdered Princess Celestia to cement my own absolute authority. That she was at peace with her death, and lived what most would consider a long and rich life before dying, attended by her grandchildren, does nothing to diminish the enormity of my crime.

However, all of these things pale in comparison to the most damning crime of all. That I can endure the guilt.

Equestria has lost its princess, but its empress will not abandon it. I will watch over Equestria, and forge it into a great empire worthy of Celestia’s legacy. I will rule over my empire, and protect all of my little ponies. They will know peace, prosperity, and power beyond their greatest dreams.

But first and foremost? I will burn this confession.