Twin Twilights

by Forthwith

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 5301

Twilight found a book to teach her the duplication spell. The spell came with a warning: do not cast on self. How could she resist?

This, this is why I spend so much time in the archives, Twilight thought, holding a dusty old book close in her magic. Inside the book were a number of advanced spells, each one more interesting than the last in some sort of circular logic that Twilight could only assume went to infinity

Twilight galloped through the doors to her tower and leaped onto her favorite reading pillow on the balcony. She opened the book to the table of contents.

Oh my gosh! They’re all so interesting! Ooh, an age spell! That…might be a bit beyond me. But here right below it – a duplication spell!

Previous Episode: The Brief Reign of Princess Twily
Current Episode: Season Zero – Episode Two
Next Episode: Works Every Time

Published 2014-09-26 21:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-26 21:30:02 UTC

Introducing Alpha and Prime

Twilight was engrossed in a most singular book of spells she had found in the archives. Some uncivilized pony had annotated the text directly on the paper – with ink no less – but she had to admit the notes were quite helpful. After all, this was hardly a book a pony would give to a filly, even one so talented as Twilight.

“Ooh!” Twilight said. “Now this is interesting.”

Looking about the main floor of her tower, Twilight’s gaze fell upon a pillow, and she floated it across the room to lie just in front of her. Then reading over the directions carefully, she attempted to cast the spell described in the book.

Twilight’s magic quickly grew out of control, and she dispersed the wild magic across the room.

Once her failed spell had settled, Twilight hummed, disappointed in both herself and the results. “Well that didn’t work.” Turning to her book again, she mused, “Hmm… What did I do wrong?”

Nothing was the answer Twilight arrived at; she had performed the spell exactly as stated in the book so far as she could tell. Slightly embarrassed, she decided to read over the offending hints and advice written into the margins. It felt a bit like cheating, and she still felt dirty reading them, but something was wrong.

“Ah,” Twilight said, frowning, “so that’s it. I can’t believe the author made a mistake like that in the spell formula. How did this book even get past the reviewers?”

Grumbling while casting, Twilight finished the modified version of the spell. The pillow in front of her twisted and morphed in strange ways, never quite tearing, until it split apart into two identical copies of itself.

Twilight shuffled happily on her hooves – partially to distract herself from the strain of the spell – and said, “Neat. I wonder if…”

Turning back to the book once more, Twilight read through the fine details of the duplication spell, things like the duration, the amount of magic required, the potential dangers, and so on.

There were no health hazards listed, but right there in the margin, the same anonymous annotator had her own warning to issue.

“Do not cast on anypony with personhood: induces existential dread,” Twilight read. “What does that mean? Eh, I can manage a little bit of dread. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Backing away from everything and clearing the area even further with her magic just to be safe, Twilight prepared another duplication spell. Once it was ready, she let it go to work on herself.

Oddly enough, though the experience was as surreal as watching the pillow rip apart into two, the process did not hurt in the slightest. Not that it was comfortable, because it was not, but neither was it so bad that she regretted it – or felt any dread.

Twilight shook her head and then her torso when it was over. Her thoughts felt louder, in some strange sense. It was almost as if they were echoing, but in perfect time with each other.

Looking up, Twilight locked eyes with Twilight.

“Whoa,” the Twilights chorused.

Each cocked their head to the their own right and found the symmetry disconcerting. It was so much like watching herself in a mirror, but the symmetry was rotational instead of across a plane.

Twilight cautiously held up her right forehoof, and the other Twilight perfectly duplicated her actions with her own. She extended the hoof gently to meet her clone’s in the dead center of her chest.

“This is weird,” they chorused. “Do you feel any dread? No. I wonder what we’re supposed to be dreading. We need to stop this. You go first. No – I don’t… Spiiiiike!”

Spike, nearly five years old, climbed down the stairs soon after. He had grown a little bit, but the steps were still slightly too big for him. Even Twilight had some trouble from time to time, but it was always an awkward stumble at worst.

“Whoa, Twilight. There’s two of you.”

“Yes, Spike, I know,” both Twilights said. “We need you to break our symmetry.”

“Break your…ah…what?”

Twilight facehoofed along with her double. “Point to one of us.”

The Twilight Spike pointed to said, “Okay, I’ll be Twilight Prime…”

“And I’ll be Twilight Alpha,” the other Twilight finished.

Prime finally noticed something strange, although it was still at the same time as Twilight Alpha.

“Did you notice that?” they asked together.

“Sorry,” Alpha said, “you go first. My bad.”

“I did. I think our thoughts are shared! Let’s each think our name.”

Both Twilights promptly did so. There were a distinct Alpha and Prime in their thoughts, but they perfectly understood both phrases as if they had been thought separately.

“Alpha, do you know what this means?” Prime shouted.

Rolling her eyes, Alpha answered, “Duh. It means we’re still the same pony.”

“And–”

“We–”

“Can–”

“Read–”

“Books!” both Twilights chorused, the last word accompanied by two identical squeals.

Jumping up and down, Spike shouted, “Do me! Do me!”

Alpha, who the Twilights agreed would be in charge of magic, cast the duplication spell for a third time, and soon after there was another Spike in the room. Oddly enough, Prime felt her magic drain as Alpha used hers.

Prime and Alpha turned to each other away from the Spikes.

“We share our magic…” Alpha murmured.

“Now that I think about it, we could have had infinite magic otherwise.”

“Such a tragedy.”

“Still, books.”

“Yes, let’s!”

Both Twilights looked down at one Spike each who was pulling on the hair of one of her forelegs.

“Hey, Twilight,” they chorused, “I wanna joust myself.”

Looking to Alpha before answering, Prime said, “Spike, that’s not going to end well. Or in anything but a draw unless you differentiate yourselves enough. And even then–”

“I wanna!” the Spikes shouted, stomping their feet and tails together.

“Okay, okay,” Prime said. “But just once, and only if the practice field is open, alright?”

“Yay!” the Spikes shouted, joining hands and jumping up and down.

Alpha and Prime were back in their tower after serving as a mount for one Spike each. Six times. Each with a disastrous result. Neither of them were able to say no to Spike, it seemed, and especially not to two of them.

Somehow they had managed to avoid attracting too much attention, but they had a feeling the rumor mill in the castle was turning quickly. The Spikes were probably making things worse; they had run off together to have an ice cream eating contest before Alpha could stop them or Prime could explain how much they would regret it.

Hopefully the kitchen staff could keep them under control.

Meanwhile, Prime had come up with a brilliant idea while reading. Next to her, Alpha gasped, her having had the very same idea as soon as Prime had it.

For the sake of their sanity, Prime said, “Wait a second. Why are we stopping at two?”

“How many books do we have waiting?” Alpha asked, turning her head in sync with Prime to their stack of books which they wanted to read.

“Maybe fifty or so?”

“I’m kind of hungry after all that exercise too.”

Prime concurred. “So we need a couple more of us to fetch lunch, snacks, and drinks.”

“And we don’t have to choose what we eat,” Alpha added. “We can just have everything we like!”

“Kind of inefficient food-wise, though.”

“Well, yeah… But still a great idea.”

Rising to their hooves together, Alpha and Prime began casting. Technically this was Alpha’s job, but multiplying by two was so much faster than adding one at a time.

After the first four iterations, when there were thirty-two Twilights, they all felt a bit distracted by each other, but it was a manageable distraction, so they cast another round of spells, doubling their number once more and a second time for good measure. It would not do to be a few Twilights short, and one-hundred-twenty-eight was a solid number.

“Alright, alright,” all of the Primes said together in a thunderous chorus rivaling the Royal Canterlot Voice, “quiet down. We need to figure out who’s who, so let’s all form two lines, one with Alphas and one with Primes.”

It took about one second for the Twilights to collectively realize they had a problem.

“Okay,” the Alphas began, “so here’s our ordering: If you were the northernmost Twilight in a split k, head to the northern half of that subpart of the line. So if I split north, north, north, north, north, south, north, I would be the third Twilight in the Alpha line.

“The Northernmost Alpha and Prime are the ‘real’ Alpha and Prime and direct us afterward. That works, right?”

The Primes chorused, “Probably.”

The ensuing chaos was pure madness, and every Twilight wondered if she might accidentally summon Discord at this rate. It had seemed like a simple enough idea, but not every Twilight had bothered to remember if she had spawned north of her counterpart at any particular step. The entire fiasco was made especially difficult because each Twilight had to sort through dozens of similar memories to actually figure out who was who’s counterpart.

Twilight found herself literally arguing with herself – dozens of times at once – a rather odd feeling. The worst part was when a number of Twilights which were not a power of two argued with each other. The pure cognitive dissonance on those occasions was startling.

And exactly how many Twilights thought that was drowned out in the sea of bickering.

“Quiet!” every non-arguing Twilight shouted. “Look, if you can’t remember then everypony involved summon and roll a die. Highest value goes north. Resolve ties by having everypony roll again and summing the total until nopony is tied.”

A brief silence reigned before the Alphas suggested, “What if we just formed a line without any ordering?”

The Prime half of the group immediately shouted, “Blasphemy!”

After a horrible clatter of dozens and dozens of dice being rolled, there were – at last – two lines of Twilights with many varying moods dispersed within them. Each Twilight had wanted to be as northward as possible, and she was not happy losing to her own rules to herself.

But there was also the joy of the Twilights who won in the mix. All together, the group was quickly becoming quite a mess. At the very, very least, every Twilight was glad her emotions had not spiraled out of control in a positive feedback loop with the other Twilights.

Amongst the buzz of thoughts – each one intelligible and understood – the northernmost Prime said, “Okay, I’m officially Twilight Prime now.”

“And I’m Twilight Alpha,” the northernmost Alpha added.

“To be somewhat fair,” Prime began, “we’ll alternate Prime and Alpha from the front of our lines for book distribution.”

Meanwhile, Alpha floated the stack of books over to the front of the lines and began the distribution process. Prime was only explaining for sanity’s sake, but Twilight, no matter how many of her there were, was eager to start reading.

Continuing, Prime said, “Take the book Alpha gives you and go find a spot to read. First Twilight to get a book gets first choice, so no fighting. Append the name slash first name, if there’s more than one, of the book’s author to Twilight for your name.”

It only took a few seconds more for the book distribution to finish; Alpha had been quite efficient. Prime turned to check on the other Twilights and found them to be behaving. Of course, she already knew that, but it felt right to physically check anyway.

“Alright,” continued Prime, “The next eight Twilights in each line, go to the kitchen and get food and drink for all of us. Remember, we all share our magic, and we used most of it to make all of us, so don’t waste it; we’ll go through it incredibly fast if we all use magic like we normally do. Number yourselves off as if you were getting books. If you are n then you are Hungry Twilight n.

“Oh, and the next Prime and Alpha after that, you two are Spike Wrangler Prime and Alpha. Go make sure those two aren’t getting into too much trouble.”

A half-minute later with the processing power of roughly forty Twilight’s at work, but only a wingful generating unique ideas from the odd stimulus she happened to see, Prime said, “The rest of you, number yourselves off the same as usual and go to the Archives to find more books to read. Higher numbered Archive Twilights have higher priority in section selection.”

With the last of the Twilights heading out the room in a purple blob, Prime and Alpha turned to each other and nodded. Alpha took one of the original duplicated pillows and sat down, monitoring the magic use of the other Twilights. Prime took the other pillow and oversaw the other problems.

And there were problems already.

Not from within the Twilight ranks, of course, but from other ponies.

“So much knowledge,” Prime said.

“So very fast,” Alpha finished.

“You remember Twilight Lily’s request to try that petal summoning spell, right?”

“It’s hard to forget when you keep reminding me.” Alpha paused and then added, “But it had slipped my mind in a sense. I’ve been shuffling back the request for a while, but I suppose I should probably take a look at it.”

Sending out the relevant requests for information, Alpha received Lily’s petition and arguments for and against. Along with it came the pestering of several Twilights trying to get their own request through and downplaying Lily’s.

“Wow, Prime, I had never noticed before, but we don’t shut up in our thoughts, do we?”

“What, you hadn’t noticed that already?” Prime asked sarcastically. “I mean, at least sixty percent of us have independently generated that thought by now.”

Alpha sighed and gave her permission to try the spell in question once.

“I wonder what Princess Celestia wants,” Alpha mused.

Meanwhile, at the base of the stairs leading up to Twilight’s tower, Princess Celestia approached a Twilight.

“Hello, Twilight,” she said. “May I ask which one you are?”

The Twilight looked up from where she was lazily reading and sunbathing. “Hi again, Princess. I’m Twilight Rain.” Rain held up her book on unicorn weather magic written by one Rain Dancer.

“I see,” said Princess Celestia, smiling the same calm smile as ever. “I believe you know I am looking for ‘Prime’ and ‘Alpha’. Am I still headed in the right direction?”

Nodding, Rain answered, “Yep. They’re waiting for you in my room. They’ll come down if you want.”

“Oh, no need to bother. I shall make the climb myself. I am sure they are busy managing this many Twilights; one of you is trouble enough, after all.”

Rain, along with every other Twilight paying attention, blushed and avoided Princess Celestia’s gaze. Before Rain could look back and apologize for the group, Princess Celestia was already up most of the first flight of stairs. A minute later, and she knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Prime called out. “Good afternoon, Princess.”

“Hi,” Alpha added with a wave of her hoof.

“I’m afraid one of us took off with your usual cushion.”

Giving a short chuckle, Princess Celestia said, “That is quite fine. I believe I shall remain on theme for the moment.”

With a golden glow, the pillows Alpha and Prime sat on duplicated and grew to well over thrice their original size. Princess Celestia then arranged them to her liking and make herself comfortable.

“So,” Prime began, not at all nervous. She and Alpha had offloaded their anxiety and panic to a dozen or so Twilights not currently talking to Princess Celestia directly. “What is it that you needed of us?”

“Prime, that’s too…too…”

“Aloof?” suggested Princess Celestia.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Humming, Prime said, “Maybe we’re having the other Twilights deal with too many of our emotions for us?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It depends, I guess.” Alpha turned from Prime to Princess Celestia and asked, “Are we in trouble?”

“Hmm… Yes and no. I have performed similar acts myself out of necessity, and I likely shall again in the future, so I shall not fault you. However, the kitchen staff feels quite passionately about today’s events.”

“Ah.” After a few seconds, Prime said, “I’m apologizing to them right now, but…they don’t seem to be in a very forgiving mood…”

Making an obviously fake smile, Princess Celestia said, “Give them time, Twilight, and they shall come around. But speaking of time, when may I expect there to be one Twilight again?”

“Oh… Um… Well, you see… This would be a good question for Prime to answer,” Alpha said.

“No way! This is magic stuff, so it’s your field. You tell her.”

“No, I–”

One-hundred-twenty-seven Twilights told Alpha to get on with it.

“Well, you see, I was kind of hoping I might maybe be able to establish some sort of cycle of eating, sleeping, and working so I can keep my magic up enough to make this more of a permanent kind of thing. If possible. And with permission.”

A second passed in silence, but it felt so much longer, especially with so many Twilights to experience it together.

“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia finally said. “We shall see what you think when this first round of duplications expires.”

Heads cocked to the side, Alpha and Prime chorused, “What do you mean?”

Giggling, Princess Celestia said, “Oh my, and here I thought you had managed to differentiate each other more.”

Both Twilights blushed and looked down at the floor in unison.

“Twilight, would you mind telling me where you learned the duplication spell from?”

Alpha floated out the spell book she had been originally studying, and Princess Celestia took it in her magic. When she opened it, her eyes twitched ever so slightly while she read before she closed and returned it to Alpha’s possession.

“I believe there was a warning added to the original text, and clearly not of your own hoofwriting. Did you happen to miss it by chance?”

“No, but why would I not use this spell just because of a little bit of…uh…”

“Existential dread,” Princess Celestia offered to Alpha.

“Yes, existential dread. This is the best spell I have ever learned. I know it takes a lot of magic, but why don’t more ponies learn it? Prime, how many books have we gotten through already?”

Smiling at how quickly she could add numbers when she had so many minds to work with, Prime answered, “We’ve read seven-thousand-four-hundred-ninety-three pages already which translates to roughly twenty-five books. Not to mention all the other stuff we’ve done.”

“See?” Alpha asked. “This spell is amazing! I’m doing in a day what would usually take me a whole season! There’s so much I want to do, but I never thought I’d actually have the time to do it all!”

Princess Celestia was smiling herself, but something about it felt fake to the two Twilights. “That is a rather poignant thought, Twilight, one which a great many of ponies realize all too late. But what would you do if your time was infinite?”

“I – well, I’m not sure.”

“Actually,” Prime added, “expanded consciousness is quite nice all on its own without the other benefits like time multiplication.”

Nodding, Alpha said, “This is pretty addicting.”

After a brief giggle, Princess Celestia asked, “Like caffeine?”

In the kitchens, Hungry Twilights three and seven spit out their coffee onto each other causing every other Twilight to cringe from the phantom pain of scalding hot liquid.

“Yes,” Alpha agreed, grimacing at the reminder of that day, “like caffeine.”

“Well, returning to my original question, when may I expect you to return to normal?”

Biting her lip, Alpha replied, “Maybe about an hour after sunset? I think the first duplication spell collapsing will trigger a chain reaction in collapsing the other spells early.”

“Very well,” began Princess Celesta. “Please collect yourself inside my chambers sometime before then, and I shall meet you there.”

One-hundred-twenty-eight Twilights milled about anxiously inside Princess Celestia’s room. It was not the first time she had been there, nor was it even the second or third time. She had lost count last year, but it was the first time she was there alone – well, alone with herself.

It was almost funny how a couple maids and one of the guards had run screaming as Twilight had congregated herself, but she had felt a bit bad about it. Although that feeling was quickly shoved aside when Shining had captured Twilight Penworth and had lectured her for forever before Twilight collectively had recovered enough magic to teleport Penworth away.

Finally, the door opened, and Princess Celestia stepped through it.

Each Twilight’s head twisted toward the doorway, and as a group, they said, “Princess!”

Princess Celestia blinked once in complete silence. “Well, that was quite the greeting.”

“Sorry…” said Prime, but Princess Celestia paid no mind to the apology.

“Good evening to you as well, Twilight. How has your day gone since we last met?”

“Amazing!” Alpha answered. “I’ve learned so many new spells, although I haven’t had the magic to actually practice all of them… But I can always read a passage again if I have any trouble!”

“We even found time to read The Celestial Comedy!”

Frowning faintly, Princess Celestia asked, “Do you not think you are a little young for that book?”

Alpha and Prime shuffled uneasily on their hooves until one of the Twilights came up with an appropriate answer.

“Well…you see, Princess Celestia…” Prime began, “the way we see it, we’re thirteen now, and thus we are old enough to read those kinds of books.” Nodding, Prime and Alpha looked to each other with pride.

“I see,” said Princess Celestia. “In that case, I must apologize for missing your birthday. We shall have to celebrate it in summer from now on.”

Every Twilight’s jaw dropped.

“Wait!” Alpha and Prime chorused. “I was just joking! I’m not old enough to read those books. I’m sorry!”

“No, you have a point, Twilight. It is such a shame we missed this one, but I do adore summer birthdays. We shall simply have to make the most of the next one.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Prime asked hesitantly.

“Are you?” Alpha asked again when no answer was forthcoming.

“Princess Celestia?”

“Please say you’re not–”

And then it happened. The duplication spells ended, and the Twilights flew into each other in pairs, undoing the entire chain of duplications in less than a second. Surprisingly, there was no whiplash as the Twilights contorted and accelerated across the room, but it did feel just as weird.

Once the process was over, the sole remaining Twilight fell to her barrel in an ungraceful flump. Looking up, Twilight could see the slightest hint of Princess Celestia’s lip curling inward as though she wanted to bite it.

“Well that was…” Twilight started, her mind sluggishly readjusting to having a single train of thought. She was already frustrated with herself when she started recalling the final thoughts of her subselves, each one abruptly terminated in the process of fusing.

Now that she was whole again, Twilight could tell each thought had its own flavor. No single one was terribly distinct from her own, but there had been quirks arising within the group – tiny little wants and aspirations that were hers, and yet not.

Twilight’s eyes widened, and for lack of anything better to stare at, she looked at her own forehooves. “Did – did I – did they just die? I…remember all of them – me. We were all so similar…but…not. And they’re all gone. I… Princess… Help.”

Princess Celestia pulled Twilight into a tight hug involving both hooves and wings. It was an awkward act with their difference in height, but it was warm and comfortable – two things Twilight needed now more than anything else.

“I – I don’t – why am I crying?” Twilight said, brushing away the first of her tears. “I-it’s not like I’m dead, and they were me, right? Right, P-Princess?”

Whispering, Princess Celestia said, “Do not philosophize right now, Twilight. You shall only hurt yourself. We shall speak in the morning. For the moment, just let it all out.”

Sniffing, Twilight tried to hold back her tears, but Princess Celestia was not making it easy. And it was a royal order, in a sense. There was no sense in disobeying royal commands.

And so she cried. It was a senseless, meaningless act, but it was necessary for Twilight – every last one of them.

Celestia woke up to a sharp kick from a hoof. And another, and another, and another, in a nearly endless series. She was a morning pony by definition, but her mind was still covered in a haze as she tried to puzzle out the source of her irritation.

Lifting a wing, she found Twilight half-cuddled up against her and galloping in her sleep, obviously having a nightmare – no big deal. With a yawn, she checked the position of the sun to find out what time it was. Dawn was still a long way away.

Rotating Twilight to face the other way, Celestia let her head fall back onto her cloud pillow with a contented sigh. There were some perks to keeping the insanity that was Equestria running.

And then Celestia’s eyes snapped open. Memories of why she was sleeping with Twilight rushed back to her.

“Twilight,” she called, nudging Twilight gently to no effect.

Even given the circumstances, she could not help but smile. Twilight reminded her of Luna in so many ways, and it would seem that she would have to add ‘sleeps like a log’ to the list. Celestia allowed herself a short giggle, remembering when Luna had slept through a griffin invasion so many centuries ago.

Prodding harder this time, Celestia called again, “Twilight, please wake up.”

Still no response.

Celestia tried once more, practically rolling Twilight across the bed with the force of her nudge.

Whoops… Twilight is not Luna. Do not throw her off the bed to wake her up.

Seeing Twilight moaning and smacking her lips, Celestia quickly levitated Twilight back beneath her wing, making it seem as if her mistake had never happened.

Rubbing an eye with a hoof, Twilight mumbled, “Morning, princess…” She yawned and switched eyes before freezing in place. “P-p-princess! I – I didn’t – why am I – I’m sor–”

“Good morning, Twilight,” Celestia interrupted, lightly hugging Twilight with her wing. If there were anything Celestia would change about Twilight, it would be that minor inferiority complex she was developing. But I suppose it is my fault she has it, in the end…

“G-good morning. Um…if you don’t mind my asking, Princess, what am I doing here?”

“Do you remember yesterday evening?”

“I – Oh, I…yes.” Twilight took a deep breath and said nothing.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Shifting underneath Celestia’s wing, Twilight asked, “Am…am I not in trouble?”

“Hmm? Why would you be?”

“Why?” Twilight half-shouted, “Why? I can only imagine how many problems I’ve caused today and how many ponies I’ve inconvenienced, disturbed, or upset. And I ate a queen’s ransom worth of food. And I – I – I killed…all of them.”

If only she were older, this would be so much easier, and we could have a proper discussion. “Twilight, it is up to each pony to choose their own philosophy, but personally, I saw nopony but you in each and every one of you.”

“But, Princess, they were all different. I mean, they weren’t, but they were. That is…argh. This is so hard to explain. They were all developing a unique…a unique… If they were a chorus, each singing the same note, then they all had a different timbre.”

Celestia smiled; it was not often Twilight would wax poetic. “That is a beautiful way to put it, Twilight. But I do know exactly what you are trying to describe. I did mention I had duplicated myself several times before, did I not?”

“Oh… Yes, you did. Sorry. I – I guess if you think it’s okay…”

Oh dear. Did I just teach Twilight to appeal to authority? “Twilight, please listen carefully. It is not up to me to decide what you think is moral. I can only help guide you as you learn and grow. It is merely my opinion that you have done nothing wrong, for what that is worth.”

“I…” Twilight trailed off, apparently having no other words to say.

Holding back a sigh, Celestia said, “If you truly believe you have done something wrong, you should learn from it. What have you learned from yesterday's events?”

Mumbling, Twilight answered, “Don’t create doomed life.”

“No, that…is not a good lesson to take from this. I am afraid Cadance and I are not quite enough company for each other.”

Celestia let the implication hang in the air until Twilight gasped – hopefully in understanding.

I am going to have quite a bit of egg on my face if Twilight does not ascend, but it would be a disaster if she does and I had not taught her an immortal’s perspective from the start. Here’s hoping for the best.

“I can understand how distracted you must be, Twilight, so would you mind if I suggested a couple things to take from this from my own experience?”

“Of – of course, Princess! I’d love that.”

“The first lesson is, well, more of a general lesson: read instructions, especially warnings.”

“Oh…” Twilight murmured.

“That is not to say you must always follow them, or always heed warnings, but you should at least understand them before you make your decision.”

Twilight eeped, confirming Celestia’s suspicion that she had not understood what existential dread meant when she had cast the duplications spells. Of course, she did now.

“The second lesson is…a little grim. Experiencing death is desensitizing enough when it happens to somepony you love, or even when it happens to a stranger. But you have experienced something akin to dying yourself on a very intimate level.”

Twilight quietly interjected, “Several times.”

“Death is very sad. It is the worst thing that can happen to a pony. Unfortunately, ponies can grow accustomed to things which frequently occur around them. Whatever else you do, Twilight, never forget that a pony’s – any pony’s – life is precious.”

A brief silence passed before Twilight spoke.

“Um… Princess, doesn’t that go without saying?”

Celestia allowed herself a sigh. “Yes, yes it does. Please accept my apologies for wasting your time.”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant!”

Giggling, Celestia said, “Yes, I know. But would you mind accompanying me to court today? Well, later today.”

“Is that…really a good idea?”

“Hmm… Perhaps not, but I believe we would both benefit from each other’s company today – myself especially.”

“Okay,” Twilight said hesitantly. But then the full meaning of Celestia’s request seemed to connect, and Twilight said, “I mean, yes. Yes, of course I will. I’d love to. Oh, but I must be a mess after – after last night. Let me just–”

Celestia grabbed Twilight in her magic as Twilight tried to hop out of bed.

“No need to rush, Twilight. There are still many hours before dawn, and I suspect both of us could use some more sleep.”

“Oh. Right,” Twilight said, her blush almost audible. Slipping back under Celestia’s wing and snuggling in, she said, “Goodnight, Princess Celestia.”

“Goodnight, Twilight.”

Author's Note