From the Desk of Her Royal Highness
Princess Celestia of Equestria
Sol Invicta
Ruler of the Kingdom of the Everlasting Sun
et al.
Forty-second day of the thirteenth month
The Year of Our Lady ten thousand one hundred and ninety-one
~~My faithful student~~
Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,
It is far too infrequently that I find myself taking up a quill to write to you. I have saved every letter that you have ever written me, and over the years, there have been many. Every scroll, every letter, every report, every lesson on friendship, ever since you were a filly. I have an entire room of the castle dedicated to their safekeeping. I think that perhaps I may have to order the construction of a new section of the Canterlot Royal Archives, the "Twilight Sparkle wing," just to hold all of your correspondence. It would be appropriate, you know; now that you are a princess, your letters and writings are technically government documents, and should be preserved for the sake of posterity. This will be important when your subjects begin building libraries in your name.
And believe me, they will.
I'm really not much of a pen pal, am I? More often than not, when you receive a message marked with my seal, it is little more than trouble on a piece of parchment: a set of instructions directing you to go on a quest, or to retrieve an ancient relic, or to save the day again, as you and your friends are so apt to do.
Well, you can stop panicking, Twilight. There is no emergency. Canterlot has not been besieged by invading changelings, the hounds of Tartarus have not been loosed upon the land, and the moon is not about to crash into Equestria... at least, not yet.
The truth is, I just can't sleep.
You may be surprised to hear that. When you first began your studies with me, I must have appeared to you as a boundless source of energy, tireless and indefatigable. It is an image of me that many misguided ponies still hold today. I can tell you from experience, however, that even the considerable stamina of an alicorn is nothing compared to that of an eager young filly, her eyes shining with wonder, and her mind brimming with questions to be answered. The reality, I'm afraid, is far more mundane: I am a light sleeper by nature, and when rest eludes me, I often find it difficult to catch. I have spent more than an hour tossing and turning upon my pillows, and have at last grown weary of staring at the ceiling of my bedchamber. I really should have it redecorated.
For a monarch, a wakeful demeanor can be advantageous, in certain situations. On several occasions, I have been roused from bed to attend to some manner of disaster, or have managed to prevent one, by the good fortune of being awake at the time. You may recall, from your studies, the Great Canterlot Fire of 9473, and how I am said, with the aid of my “sublime foresight,” to have quickly extinguished the blaze before it was able to ravage the entire city. I assure you, foresight had nothing to do with it. An alicorn has many gifts, as you well know, but even I cannot divine the future. I simply had trouble sleeping that evening, much as I do tonight, and walked out onto my balcony for a breath of fresh air. From there, I could easily see the smoke and flames rising from the center of town, and moved to put them out.
“Town.” Canterlot seemed much smaller back then. Hm.
While I would wish that you never find yourself confronted by such unexpected crises, or subjected to the embellishments of history that come with resolving them, I know all too well that such a wish would be made in vain. The life of a princess, as you will discover, is not always an easy one. Instead, I will merely hope that you never find your slumber disturbed by anything more troubling than a letter received from a restless fellow princess in the dead of night.
Of course, that is assuming you were slumbering at all; Spike has written to me of your unfortunate habit of staying up until all hours of the night, only to doze off with your nose buried in some musty tome or other. He worries about you, as do I. At the risk of sounding like an old nag, I will remind you that princesses need their rest just as much as little fillies do.
And, lest you think I've forgotten, hello to you as well, Spike. I hope this letter hasn't disturbed your rest, either. Like me, you were always a bit of a fussy sleeper.
My Doctor tells me that sleeplessness is a common ailment among ponies, one often caused by stress. He prescribed some warm milk and tea leaves before bed. While I hardly consider myself to be “stressed out”—unless, of course, you would have some advice regarding that particular area of expertise—I must admit that the burden of rule can sometimes be difficult to bear, especially when it is borne alone.
Do not mistake my meaning, Twilight. I am immensely grateful to know that I can rely upon you and Cadance in times of need, and I sincerely appreciate your help. But after a millennium of self-reliance, one grows accustomed to doing things on her own.
Long ago, in the days of my own youth, Luna and I never worried about such things. We hadn't a care. All the world was our playground, every day a grand adventure, and every night, grander still. As you may know, one of my sister's many special skills is the ability to enter and manipulate the dreams of others. She could mold and guide them with all the expertise of a baker crafting a delicious cake, and the time we spent together was just as sweet.
Mmm... cake. I wonder if the castle kitchen is still open.
Our nights were filled with flights of fancy limited only by power of our own imaginations... and for two fillies such as we, what imaginations they were! Our dreams were rapturous beyond description, overflowing with the few indulgences we denied ourselves in our waking hours, and our disappointment upon waking was matched only by our joy at being able to share another day together. Such is the innocent hedonism of children. Not since then have I ever known such pure, simple happiness.
I don't know what happened, Twilight. I don't know how it all went so terribly wrong. I asked myself every night, for centuries, and the answer would not come to me. If anypony knew, anypony who thought me to be Celestia, the All-Knowing, I would throw myself down on my hooves, and beg them to tell me what I could have done.
Before I was forced to ~~banish~~ send Luna away, I never knew what a nightmare was. They didn't exist. Any dark thoughts that dared to intrude upon our dreams would find themselves instantly smote by the brilliance of our shared light. Even in those rare instances when illness would confine me to bed, my sister would stand sentinel at my side, and within my mind, guarding my dreams from harm as if they—or I—were some precious treasure. She took care of me, and defended me, just as I did her. There was nothing we would not have done for one another.
And then I sent her away.
With Luna gone, so was the protection she provided. Rest would not find me, and when it did, it came only piecemeal, in brief, fitful starts, or in hideous visions. More than once, I woke screaming and thrashing in my chambers, and managed to scare the wits out of my personal guard. My heart would pound within my chest, and my sheets would be drenched in sweat. Even now, so many years later, my pulse still races when I think back to the horrors that I beheld when my eyes were shut.
I will not detail my nightmares to you, Twilight. I will not burden your mind with the terrors that continue to haunt my own. It is enough to say that they frightened me, and that they would ~~do worse~~ do the same to you.
Since I no longer looked forward to sleep as I once did, I began seeking ways to avoid it. Sometimes I simply wouldn't sleep at all, for days, even weeks at a time. I realize this sounds unpleasant, and indeed, it can be taxing, but as I said, alicorns have considerable stamina.
This is not, by the way, permission for you to stay up studying for days on end. I expect Spike to warn me if you try.
On many nights, I would wander the corridors of the castle, aimlessly, looking at paintings, sculptures, and old suits of armor that I had passed by a hundred times before, but had never taken the time to truly admire. In this way, I became very familiar with the castle attendants. I would regularly check in with the guards as they made their rounds, and would also stop to chat with the cooks, and the maids, and anypony else whom I happened to meet along the way.
Most were surprised to see me, I think; not everypony expects to run into the Living Sun taking a leisurely stroll in the middle of the night. But I preferred it that way. I always tried to be an accessible ruler, and didn't care for the idea of the solitary sovereign, so high and mighty, locked away in her room, so cold and distant from the ponies for whose welfare and security she was responsible. I never liked being placed upon a pedestal above everypony else. I wouldn't have even worn a crown, if it hadn't been given to me.
But that's a tale for another letter.
When I didn't feel like prowling the castle grounds, I would sit on my balcony, and look out at Canterlot. It wasn't always the large, bustling capital city where you grew up. It looked very different back then, especially at night. Ponies still used torches in those days, and candles were more common; the flickering lights in the windows twinkled in the dark like fireflies, or like stars in the night sky.
The stars. I would look up at them too, from time to time. And at the moon, when I could work up the courage.
And sometimes, I would just sit in my room, alone, and cry.
During Luna's ~~banishment~~ absence, I got into the habit of writing letters to her. I never sent them, of course; she wouldn't have read them, and even if she did, I would not have given that ~~demon~~ ~~monster~~ thing that took her from me another way to torment her. But I wrote them anyway. I would tell her about my day: what I had done, what I had seen, who I had talked to. In a way, it felt like having her back home again.
I still have the letters, locked away in the castle vault. I think about showing them to her, from time to time, but I don't think I'm ready for that. Not yet.
That's why I'm writing to you now. I hope you don't mind; it is a very old habit, after all, and one that gives me solace.
I could tell Luna that I'm having trouble sleeping, but I don't really want her to know. She is still recovering her strength after her long ~~exile~~ vacation, and I do not wish her to be concerned. As you know, she has been having some difficulty adjusting to modern life, and I think she has enough to worry about as it is. I don't want her thinking that my restlessness is somehow her fault. It is not; in fact, I haven't had a single nightmare since she came back. It's just another old habit, but I'm afraid this one may be significantly harder to break.
I suppose I could have kept writing in our diary, but it just wasn't the same without Luna. Our journal entries, like ourselves, complemented each other as two halves of a greater whole. We would write secret messages to each other, point out mistakes in each other's writing, or leave doodles in the margins. It was one more great game to be played between us, one more way to have fun, and without a playmate, it wasn't fun anymore. So, when she left, I left the diary behind, in our old castle, exactly where you found it. Besides, writing in a journal always felt a bit like talking to myself, and I couldn't help but think that was rather silly.
No, that doesn't mean you and your friends can stop doing it.
I did stay up and talk to my students, now and then. Sometimes they would drop in to visit me, or to discuss a problem that they'd been having. Sometimes they would be long gone, for decades, even centuries past. Sometimes I would talk to Luna, too. I was always so angry at myself over ~~what I did to her~~ what happened between us, but she never was. She was always smiling, and would watch over me as I drifted off to sleep, just like old times.
I still talk to them, on occasion. The Doctor says that it's perfectly natural, even healthy. I'm not sure if I believe that, but it helps me, just like the letters did. I had a long chat with Clover last night. She always knows how to make me laugh.
I miss her very much. I could use her wisdom now. Sometimes I really do feel like an old nag. Old and gray.
I have lost many students, Twilight. Many friends. It brings me tremendous comfort to know that I will not lose you, too. You mean a great deal to me. As do you, Spike. The burdens of eternity will not be easy for either of you to bear. Time is an implacable enemy, one that you will face again and again, as I have had to do throughout my reign. But you won't have to face it alone.
And for the first time in a very long time, neither will I.
I know that you are concerned for your companions, and worried about what will happen to them. I cannot tell you for certain what will become of them, but I would like to ask you a question.
Do you believe in miracles, Twilight?
I do. Since you first arrived in Ponyville, you have worked wonders to which Equestria has not borne witness in more than a thousand years.
Discord, chaos and disharmony incarnate, reformed into a force for good. King Sombra slain, and the Crystal Empire restored to its former glory. The crowning of a new princess of the realm. The Elements of Harmony not only returned, but the Tree of Harmony itself revived and flourishing.
Luna... my Luna.
Miracles do happen, Twilight. You are living proof. When I first took you under my wings, I would have considered any one of these feats to be impossible. You have accomplished all of them in only a few short years. Beholding such marvels as these makes me feel young again, young as when the stars were new. I can only wait, awestruck, to see what you will do next.
As I told you, I cannot foresee the future. I have no doubt that many challenges still lie ahead, for all of us. But I have a feeling that whatever happens, Equestria will be in good hooves.
I never thanked you, did I? For bringing my Luna back to me.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
The night I lost my sister was the most painful of my entire life, Twilight. The day you returned her to me was the happiest. Words cannot express my gratitude. I have ruled Equestria for millennia, but I will be indebted to you for the rest of time.
Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all? If you were not already a princess, I would gladly give you a crown. Would you like to have your own holiday, or something? I can do that, you know, I'm a princess! What about your friends? Would they like to be made duchesses? I'm sure I can find some park land or a nature preserve that I'm not using for anything, if any of them would like to establish a fiefdom. Perhaps a barony for Spike? If he is to maintain a dragon's hoard one day, then it might be a good idea for him to get some experience with managing his own territory.
You may write me a reply when she's not looking, Spike.
I don't know why I dwell upon these things. The Doctor tells me that many ponies do, when they find themselves awake at night. Hm. I suppose that ten thousand years is more than enough time to tally up a few regrets.
I can feel Luna beginning to weave one of her sleeping spells. It would seem that even after all this time, she is still taking care of me. I have not quite said all that I wish to say, but the hour is late, and so I think I shall return to bed, and allow her to make use of her unique talents. I do wish to talk with her. To tell her about my letters. To tell her how much I have missed her. To tell her that I am sorry.
But not tonight. Tonight, I will sleep. And, if I am lucky, perhaps I will dream.
Thank you, Twilight. For everything. Thank you for your service. Thank you for my sister. And most of all, thank you for being my friend.
And always remember: friendship is magic.
~~Your teacher~~
~~Your mentor~~
Most sincerely yours,
Princess Celestia of Equestria
Sol Invicta
Ruler of the Kingdom of the Everlasting Sun
et al.
