Luna burst into Celestia’s chambers. “Sister, let us form a band!”
Celestia looked up from her desk, where she had been drafting a letter from a fake secret admirer to Queen Chrysalis of the changelings. Scrying on her chasing after an imaginary meal was always good for a laugh, after all. “Why wouldst thou suggest that? ‘Tis our privilege to enjoy music, not produce it for others.”
“The new music of rocks hath grown so popular that some musicians are more beloved than us. Thou mustest agree that this is unacceptable.”
“Hath it really gotten so bad?”
“Last night I did fly over a concert, and nopony noticed, so enamored were they with the band! Gone are the days when any musician would stop and await our command to continue when we graced him with our presence. Past is the era when our subjects would prostrate themselves at the sound of our royal shoes. Thou doubtest my claims, but if anything I have made them too weak.”
“Should we not then simply outlaw the rock music? Our subjects will soon forget their new idols when any who dare produce the treasonous sound are locked away in the dungeons. We can even claim the music deriveth its mesmerizing power from Discord himself. Our subjects will revere us all the more for saving them!”
“I fear it is too late even for that; Equestria would rise up against us should we attempt to overtly dethrone its new rulers. Even were this Discord’s music, I do not know that anypony would care. ‘Tis a more subtle approach that is our only hope.”
“What if our subjects do not like our music? We know nothing of making music.”
Luna laughed, quite condescendingly. “Surely thou hast heard the new music? It canth not be hard to produce.”
“HELLO CANTERLOT! ART THOU READY TO ROCK?” The Royal Canterlot Voice rang out in stereo across the crowd.
After a moment to regain their hearing, the assembled ponies responded with a brief and hesitant round of hoof-stomping. The ubiquitous posters announcing “Heavenly Cycle, Live in Concert for the First Time Ever!” with a pair of alicorn silhouettes encircling the band name had certainly ensured plenty of attendance, but nopony there was really excited. Curious about why their diarchs had decided to become rock stars, yes. Strangely fascinated by seeing Celestia and Luna in mismatched neon leg warmers and what kind of looked like black-and-white clown makeup, sure. Even afraid that this was secretly a mandatory event, in a few cases. But nopony expected the music to be any good.
“WE SAID, ‘ART THOU READY TO ROCK?!’”
The crowd, realizing their eardrums were being held hostage to ensure their enthusiasm, broke out into wild cheering and thunderous applause.
The princesses, appeased, prepared to play. A guitar wrapped in a yellow aura rose above Celestia’s head, as a bass similarly glowing in blue was lifted above Luna. Oddly, both instruments appeared to be made out of solid granite, and poorly carved at that.
“WE CALL THIS SONG ‘THE SUN DOTH BATTLE WITH THE DEMONS OF CHAOS,’” Celestia declared, just before the sisters launched into a truly incomprehensible mix of screeching guitars and screamed vocals. To the ponies of Canterlot, the effect was completely indescribable, though fortunately there was no need as the performance was loud enough that the entire city could hear. However, human culture does happen to have provided an apt comparison, entirely by accident, to those who are familiar with it: a novice Guitar Hero player attempting “Through the Fire and the Flames” on the highest difficulty. The two sound nothing alike, in point of fact, but the more abstract concepts of a rapid and seemingly random series of arrhythmic sounds, “musical instruments” that were like actual instruments only in appearance, and frantic screaming that the metaphor brings to mind are quite accurate.
Needless to say, the audience was less than pleased. By the time the song ended, nine minutes later, most of the crowd had managed to slip out of the area while the princesses weren’t watching, and the remaining ponies were as far from the stage as possible without looking like they were trying to leave, many of them even whistling nonchalantly. They did express great enthusiasm when the song ended, though, and that satisfied their musical sovereigns.
Luna introduced the next song as “The Ballad of the Night.” With its greater focus on vocals, it actually wasn’t half bad—if you were a bat. To ponies, it came off as rather shrill, and the actually somewhat decent poetry of which Luna was so proud was lost on those who did not speak Pteropine. Sadly, there were no bats in the audience that evening, and by the end of the song there weren’t any ponies either.
Luna opened her eyes after giving up on waiting for applause. Then she flew around the stage in case there were any fans who had gotten stuck in a corner and forgotten how to walk, or anything like that. “Dost thou think they did not like our music?”
“‘Twas thy song that drove them away. Mine was much beloved.”
“Nay, thine was like the screeching of a dying owl. The ponies merely applauded to drown out the ringing in their ears. Hadst thou not deafened our subjects first, they would have heard the beauty of my song.”
“I was screeching? Thou sounded like hooves on a chalkboard!”
“I will have thee know that Pteropine is an ancient and cultured language, which thou might remember if thou hadst ever listened to our tutors!”
“Excuse me, Your Highnesses?” A voice rang out from across the courtyard.
Both princesses jumped. An orange stallion had approached to within shouting distance while they hadn’t been paying attention. “What is so important,” Celestia snapped after a moment, “that thou wouldst intrude upon the private discussion We are having with Our sister?”
“Well, Your Highnesses’ argument was loud enough that a lot of us could not help but hear it. I thought you would rather somepony tell you than everypony just eavesdrop.”
Celestia’s blush was clearly visible through her white coat. “Very well. Now leave Our presence.”
The commoner started to comply, and then turned back. “Well . . . there was one other thing. I was wondering if you might want some help with your music.”
“And why would We want that?”
“You must have noticed that everypony left. Frankly, it was the worst concert I have ever seen.”
“Thou art making a good case for sending thee to the dungeons.”
“Ah, but if I am in the dungeons, I cannot help you become stars. And stars you will be if you accept my assistance. Nopony else will dare make that guarantee.”
Luna finally spoke up. “Thou hast Our interest.”
The stallion’s name was Drum Beat, and he wasted no time in helping the Princesses’ musical ambitions. Within a few weeks, he had taught them to play their instruments (which were now real musical instruments) passably, coached them in the major dos and don’ts of songwriting, and convinced them to add a drummer to the band to back them up. Granted, that drummer was he, and he insisted on being paid handsomely for that job, but he was a very good drummer, and his fees were a pittance to the Royal Treasury.
Soon the Heavenly Cycle Comeback Tour (“New and Improved! Like You’ve Never Heard Them Before!”) was announced. The ponies who showed up to see their diarchs trying to be a rock band, most of who were curious because they had missed the first concert, were pleasantly surprised to find the music tolerable, and in some cases even enjoyable. Once the news spread that Heavenly Cycle was no longer an assault on one’s eardrums, the novelty of the whole situation started drawing huge crowds. They may not have had the best music, but judging by attendance alone, they were the hottest act in all of Equestria.
Thus was Drum Beat’s promise fulfilled. The sisters were rock stars, and they didn’t care that they hadn’t gotten there on the strength of their music. They finally felt like they were on top again, and they lived the extravagance and arrogance that befitted rock star royalty. Celestia decreed at one point that it was illegal to publicly speak ill of Heavenly Cycle. Luna got so wasted partying after one concert that she forgot what phase the Moon was supposed to be in, and just made it flash like a strobe light instead. They did all the drugs and all the hottest stallions; on one evening that was not soon forgotten, Luna bet she could find enough sexual partners to keep her occupied constantly until morning and enough drugs to keep them all high the entire time, so Celestia refused to raise the sun for several days in order to win. They pulled ridiculous stunts that usually would have killed them had they not been immortal; some of the craters from the time they competed in doing cannonballs off the side of the mountain (and didn’t hit the water even once) are still visible if you know what to look for. They acted like they were gods among ponies, gracing the mortals with their presence in exchange for having their every desire fulfilled, and they were seldom contradicted. They were out of control, and they were loving it.
Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for Equestria, nothing can last forever. Eventually, the novelty of musical princesses wore off, and ponies stopped listening to their songs. In time, even the vast Royal Treasury had to run low. And so, inevitably, all three members of Heavenly Cycle blamed each other and fell to bickering. Drum Beat wanted to start a new band on the side, but the Princesses insisted he devote all his time to Heavenly Cycle. Luna sobered up enough to notice that guitarists are more popular than bassists, and started questioning why Celestia always got the best of everything just because she was older, while Luna was stuck with the leftovers. Celestia started taking every decision that she didn’t like as deliberate sabotage of the band. And each one of them insisted he or she was the only thing keeping the band afloat. The arguments grew ever more common, petty, and irrelevant as hatred grew among them, and all the while the fans were leaving. Something had to change. Until it did, they would spiral ever downward.
And change something did.
A solar eclipse.
An angry jet alicorn.
An aerial battle.
A beam of rainbow light, overpowering a beam of blue.
A mare’s head silhouetted upon the moon.
A single tear trickled down Celestia’s cheek. “Oh sister. Why did it have to end this way? Did We truly have to send you away?”
“Cut!” The director waved Celestia down to where he could talk to her. “The line is ‘Did I truly have to send you away.’”
“Is that any way to speak to thy princess?”
“I’m sorry, I meant to say ‘the line is “Did I truly have to send you away,” Your Highness.’” The sarcasm was practically congealing out of the air.
Luna emerged from her trailer. “Did We just hear that Our sister flubbed a line again?”
“Like thou art any better with the script,” Celestia snorted.
“Yes, but you don’t need to worry about it,” the director answered Luna. “We got the battle scene, so now you can just sit back for a while and watch your sister struggle to keep her speech current.”
“Praise Us! There are only so many times We can stand to be hit in the face with magic in one night.” Luna’s voice rose to a very exaggerated stage whisper. “We would say she was using too much force on purpose, but she has always had issues with control. ‘Tis a very sensitive subject for her.”
Celestia sighed. “Remind Us why We let thou give Us orders? Or why We are doing any of this at all?”
“Because you wanted to make a movie and I’m the best in the business. Now get back up there and try for once to use a dialect ponies can understand, or nopony will watch the movie.”
Celestia muttered something that was probably along the lines of a vague threat to kill everypony present, but she did fly up for another take.
Later that year, The Battle of the Sisters was released, marking the traditional transition from “washed-up musicians” to “actresses.” In retrospect, Heavenly Cycle should have split up sooner; that particular venture far outlived its welcome. Drum Beat was much happier being in some new band with competent members, the princesses were much happier not having him around, and everypony was much happier not having to worry about a dwindling fanbase.
And the movie was quite successful. The princesses had raised taxes and cut back on partying to ensure that they could afford to hire only the best, and it showed. Even their own performances were spectacular, thanks to the director’s exacting standards. Critics described the final scene where Luna and Celestia, both mortally wounded from their final battle, put aside their differences and forgave each other just before dying as “poignant” and “beautifully tragic.” The public flocked to theaters in droves to see it. Ticket revenue temporarily surpassed tax revenue. The sisters were popular again, and obscenely rich again as well (though with a newfound sympathy for the merely extremely wealthy). They were movie stars now, and they were living wildly once more.
It should come as no surprise that when everything went wrong for the princesses, they were drunk. And possibly high, too. Neither could actually remember.
It was at a party, of course. Both princesses were quite clearly anything but sober, as usual, though they at least knew not to get so impaired they lost control of their magic or anything like that. And this night, they were feeling competitive.
A beam of magic flew into the night. It hit the top of a neighboring mountain, which exploded into dust with a brilliant blue flash. “Beat that!” Luna challenged.
“With pleasure.” Celestia’s magic hit a different mountain, melting its top to lava. “See? Far grander than thy tiny explosion.”
“No way! The stump of Our mountain is shorter!” Indeed, the molten surface of the mountain Celestia had assaulted still stood slightly higher than the top of the one that Luna had blasted. “We did more damage.”
“Our mountain was taller to begin with!”
“Even if it was, and ‘twas not, it would not matter. Thou cheated’st by using heat magic!”
“We do not recall any rules! The challenge was simply to blow up mountains.”
“’Twas obvious! We cannot shatter stone with cold alone, so thou canst not simply melt it!”
“’Tis not Our fault our magic is better.”
“’Tis not better! ‘Tis simply more suited to one thing. Thou wouldst be useless without something to melt or burn!”
“We could best you in any magical challenge even without fire!”
Luna laughed. “Thou art powerless without thy fire!”
“We are strong! We could send thee to the Moon right now, just like in that movie!”
“We would like to see you try!”
So she did. And then promptly passed out from the strain. This all rather ruined the mood of the party.
The next morning, Celestia resolved to never drink again. Then she decreed it illegal to record history, so nopony would remember for long that she had banished her sister accidentally. That would be embarrassing to have to admit to for the rest of her life.
Author's Note
. . . That ending was less abrupt in my head. It was better in pretty much every way until I tried to write it down, really. I just don't know what went wrong.
