Celestia stumbled in from her balcony, collapsed onto her bed, and broke into a coughing fit. The evening light had waned, and the last traces of pink faded from the underside of the clouds. A large bank had settled in, which should help hold in a little of the day’s heat on this early winter night. The sun down, another day finished. And none too soon.
Her aching muscles protested even the small movement of holding a foreleg across her throbbing temples, and her forehead burned like a blacksmith’s forge. Above her, the ceiling swam and spun. The stylized sun painted up there, with its eight rays, or… twelve. Maybe fifteen. She should know! Emblazoned on her own skin, for goodness’ sake! Another bolt shot through her skull.
She considered ringing one of her staff for a glass of water and some aspirin, but the feeling might pass. No need to waste her time on medicine when it’d go away on its own eventually. She hated to bother them after working hours, if she could avoid it. The poor ponies didn’t need her summoning them away from their families. At least she’d remembered to douse the candles, but that piercing light from outside—the moon shone through the window, unguarded, and stabbed at the back of her eyes.
Smiling in spite of herself, Celestia brought her magic to bear in spurts and managed to draw the drapes closed. They fluttered a little in the light breeze, and that frigid air felt delicious against her seething cheeks. Yes, the moon, on the clear eastern horizon. Luna had raised it from… wherever she’d gone. Celestia couldn’t remember where. Some place over the mountains, or the ocean, or…
Still she lay there, the clock’s ticking her only company, minute after minute. Not even the night staff’s usual muted sounds echoed in the stone passageways. She might have dozed on and off, but she couldn’t tell. Trains of thought lost, picked up again. It certainly felt like hours—she peeked at the clock. Nearly ten. But when had she lowered the sun? At eight… no, seven. Maybe. Should she call for a glass of water and some aspirin? No, she didn’t need to bother anypony. If only she could get her sheets arranged into perfect little swirls, it’d help funnel the time away, send it on to February or something, when the air would be even colder, and the dragons would quit stomping around on the roof. She should outlaw roofs in the morning.
Dark. A lovely, rich dark, like chocolate, and a cool breeze flowed through the open doorway from the balcony. The moon, gone. Was there a new moon tonight? She could have sworn she saw it earlier. Nice and dark, and the clock had just said ten! Why six now? Six… ninety. Still twelve hours to sleep.
She nestled into her pillow, and her thoughts oozed like thick sap. She brushed sweat from her forehead. Dark and cool and soft. Aspirin? No. Just sleep. The door and… somepony talking? No. Just sleep.
“Please!” Twilight Sparkle said as she tugged at the doctor’s foreleg. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?”
He opened his mouth partway, but his eyes diverted away, just a little. She knew that look—she’d used it herself at times, assessing whether the asker really wanted a question answered or would be happier with something vague and noncommittal. His gaze flicked to her wings for a second, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, Princess. I don’t know.”
He brushed Celestia’s mane aside and held a foreleg to her cheek. “She has a fever, but based on the amount of dried sweat, it was much worse earlier. So she seems to be improving, but…”
With his horn alight, he pried one of Celestia’s eyelids open and focused the glow, but he shook his head. “Her fever must have broken overnight. I can’t fathom why she’s unresponsive. M-maybe I should check the files in my office—one of her previous physicians might have seen something like this before.”
A faint tremble snaked its way along his neck. Twilight might not have noticed, except she had no other source of information at the moment. She had to read what he didn’t say if she wanted a complete picture. But Princess Celestia? This sick? She’d seen a minor sniffle before, but nothing else.
Really. She… she couldn’t come up with a single time. Her mentor’s own private physician, and Twilight had never even met him before, never set eyes on him. Princess Celestia simply didn’t get sick!
Twilight fought her own shudder down, but too late. The doctor had the same idea as Twilight, and he blanched at her reaction even more than seeing Celestia lying there motionless, save the occasional breath. Just because she’d known Celestia for years and had become an alicorn herself didn’t mean…
She stood up straight and nodded calmly. “Yes, of course. Consult your records. I’m certain you’ll find something there.”
The doctor left, and the guards closed the door behind him. Alone now, in the dark morning, well after the sun should have risen. And without even a distraction. Twilight knelt at the bedside and pressed her nose into Celestia’s wing. A biting odor of sweat and grime nipped at her, but underneath it all, that familiar scent of clouds, still there.
With a fragile smile, Twilight closed her eyes and breathed it in. Still there.
The soft snap of cloth in a breeze awoke Twilight, little by little. She lifted her head from the mattress and blinked at the light streaming through the open balcony door. She searched for the sound and saw the drapes billowing from the windows, also open. Twilight fought off a shiver—at least somepony had lit a cheery blaze in the fireplace to fight the winter air, but why let the cold wind in anyway?
Wait, where was she? In… in Canterlot! She’d fallen asleep against the bed, and—
The sun! The sun was up! Twilight jolted to her hooves and dashed toward the balcony, her heart quickening. But with the foggy shroud dissipating in her mind, she stopped on the threshold, and her face fell. Too many shadows, the wrong color of light. Not the sun, just an unusually bright full moon, low on the horizon. Celestia had made her bedchamber face that direction so the moon would be the first thing she saw each morning.
Celestia!
Twilight whipped her head back around, and Celestia still lay there, perhaps breathing more steadily. But with a shiver.
Twilight lit her horn and pulled the blanket over her mentor, then reached out to slide the nearest window closed. A metallic slither sounded from across the room—curtain rings scraping along their rod, letting in more moonlight. She’d have to shut—
“Leave it open, please.”
A jolt ran up Twilight’s spine, and she whirled toward the voice, to yell at it for startling her, to plead with it for help, to… “Princess Luna?”
Slowly, Luna strutted in from the open balcony. At least Twilight had always thought of it as strutting. No, no, that wasn’t right. Twilight had told her it might appear that way to those who didn’t know her better. That pride, ingrained over the centuries, and yet another relic Twilight had tried to help her—
With an angry snort, Twilight shook her head. She couldn’t afford to get distracted right now. “What’s wrong with her? Please, I need your help! Th-the doctor’s gone to see if he has any old records of something like this, but he’s never seen it himself before, a-and—”
“Twilight Sparkle,” Luna stated, more fact than greeting, though she did wear a curious grin.
“Celestia’s sick! Please help me!” Twilight grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her as much as she dared. “I-I don’t know what to do! She won’t move, she won’t wake up, she…”
Luna pulled her close and spoke softly in Twilight’s ear. “Calm yourself. My sister will be fine. I promise you.”
Twilight tried. She really did. But she trembled, and she wiped away the tears that wouldn’t stop. Some princess she was, falling apart in a crisis. Luna’s steady gaze… Twilight willed herself to draw strength from it. An unsteady breath, in through the nose, then out, and she nodded. “What’s wrong with her?” And of course her voice cracked. Twilight stood as tall as she could.
“Merely an illness. Nothing that has not happened before.” Still, that curious grin. Twilight squinted at it.
“But the doctor said—”
Luna held up a hoof. “The doctor knows what he needs to know.” And her eyes wandered toward the balcony door. “As will you,” she added, her voice tapering as if the words had fallen out unbidden.
After a long minute of silence, Twilight glanced outside to see what had drawn Luna’s attention. Just the full moon, but Luna stared right at it, where the shadowed form used to be…
Luna pursed her lips and studied the patterns of marble on the floor. “Soon enough,” she said. And then she perked up, a new spark in her eyes and her ears straining forward. “Twilight Sparkle, do you trust me?”
As if she might see those words hovering in midair, Twilight stared at Luna’s mouth. Her head nodded a little on its own, before she’d even registered it. No, not the time to be caught dumbstruck! She squeezed the fog from her mind. “Yes! Of course I do!” Luna had come so far, and she’d earned Twilight’s trust, without hesitation.
Luna’s smirk only grew. “If you would accompany me outside,” she said, corralling Twilight along with a wing.
One last glance back at the bed, and the corners of Twilight’s mouth twitched downward.
“I promise.”
Her jaw still hanging open, Twilight looked into those warm, icy eyes. She wasn’t shaking anymore.
Together, they walked out the door, into the wind and the full moonlight. But Twilight didn’t feel cold. She only listened and watched as Luna closed her eyes and steadied herself. “The sun is far overdue. It will make things easier if you assist me in raising it.”
“Y-you know how?” Twilight asked. Well, Celestia could raise the moon, so—
“Yes. With considerably more effort than it requires of my sister, however. I can manage, if you do not wish to participate.” One midnight-hued eyelid opened, just a slit, and a glint shone toward Twilight.
Warm. Nice and warm, out in the frosty air. “I’d love to help. What do I do?”
“How do you feel about Celestia?”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected that. “I… I admire her greatly. She’s a wonderful teacher and friend.”
Something softened about Luna, but… the smile. It had been almost playful, teasing before. Now it had the feel of feathery down to it, like one shining on a sleeping infant. “Good,” she said. “What do other ponies think of her?”
“Th-the same, I guess. Well, they don’t know her as a teacher, but everypony respects her.” Twilight let out a long breath. How… how was Luna doing this? Did she control the fabric of the night itself? It wrapped around Twilight like a blanket. She’d never known such peace.
“And the other way? How does my sister feel about her subjects?”
Twilight should have seen that question coming. “She loves them,” Twilight answered. And then a flash shot across her mind. She nearly gasped. “As much as you do.”
Luna’s previously tamed smile broke free and danced across the entirety of her face. “You are a quick learner. Do you remember the spark you sought to activate the Elements, that first time?”
“Yes,” came the hasty reply. She knew better than to walk on eggshells, not with Luna. The princess had taken full ownership of that. Everypony tended to think of that day as a defeat. It wasn’t. “When everypony welcomed you home.”
“Exactly. That took friendship. Related, but different. This particular task requires finding that kind of love, founded on respect. Princess for her citizens, child for his mother, commander for her unit, student for his teacher.” Luna closed her eyes once more and lifted her chin to the horizon. “Friend for friend works as well. You may employ that. Picture them all, those who trust and support you, those with whom you keep counsel.”
That word again. Trust. Luna had asked Twilight to trust her. So why did it seem like their places had completely reversed? Luna, trusting Twilight with… something, still a little nebulous.
But that could wait. She did as asked and shut her eyes, then imagined all the little connections, fanning out like a spiderweb. All the ponies looking up to her for guidance during Winter Wrap Up and rushing off to their tasks. Standing with her friends and listening to Mrs. Cake for instructions on setting up the foals’ carnival. Collaborating with Mayor Mare on collecting coats and hats for needy families. Attending the birthday party that the whole town had helped Pinkie throw for her.
All those ponies, everywhere across Equestria, many whom she didn’t even know, but they all shared ties in some way or another. “Many hooves make light work,” as the expression went. And many hooves had lifted her in the past. They could do anything, even raise—
The bright glow of dawn shone through her eyelids, and somehow, it didn’t surprise her. The light stumbled a bit, not a smooth motion, and not as effortlessly as Celestia could do it, even while distracted. If Twilight thought about it too much, the impossible weight might just crush her. But she had Luna there as well, another connection that made her stronger.
At a soft touch on her shoulder, Twilight opened her eyes. “I gather my sister has never shown you that before?” Twilight shook her head. “A mistake. And potentially a costly one. But no matter—all is well now.”
Twilight let the warm light bathe her face, the same warmth she felt from her friends. Her heartbeat soon picked up again, though. She still had bigger problems to solve. “What about…?”
“Good morning—er, afternoon.”
“Princess Celestia!” Twilight rushed over and practically flung herself at her mentor. Celestia absorbed the barrage of hugs and even returned one of her own, but she did wobble on her hooves, and she didn’t move with her usual fluid grace. “You had me so worried!”
Luna chuckled at the display and nodded a greeting to her sister. “As I said, Twilight, just a minor illness.”
“But why didn’t the doctor know? And—” Twilight spun back to face Luna “—how did you know? And—”
“I merely saw that the sun had not risen on time. I would have caught it much earlier, but I was away on a diplomatic mission,” Luna said, her silk-smooth voice drawing that same peace around Twilight, even in the absence of darkness. “Normally, I would have found out long before anypony else noticed the delay.”
Twilight’s eyebrows knit together. Normally? That meant—
“This has happened before?”
Luna glanced toward Celestia, who nodded slowly at her. “Rarely, but yes,” Luna answered. “The last time she needed my help was before my exile. If one of us became ill, the other would assume her duties temporarily.”
“We are both excellent timekeepers,” Celestia added, a hint of yawn remaining in her voice. She stretched her wings out and basked in the sun’s full radiance, which chased that awful, pallid gray from her coat and restored her brilliant white. “Just a few minutes late, and the other would know. Our unspoken agreement.”
The wrinkles on Twilight’s forehead only deepened. “What did you do during Luna’s… exile?” If she could have done so unseen, Twilight would have pinched herself for that hesitation. The more she acted uncomfortable about it, the more Luna would as well.
“I simply didn’t have the luxury of becoming ill,” Celestia said with a faint shrug. “No matter how bad I felt, I had to force myself out of bed. It might prolong the sickness for a while, but nothing too serious. An extra day of misery every few decades won’t hurt me.”
Twilight set her jaw. They weren’t telling her something. “You were unresponsive, practically comatose. And now you barely look weak.”
Straining her wings out as far as they would go, Celestia breathed in the sunbeams.
“She shares a symbiotic relationship with the sun,” Luna said. That made sense, but when Twilight looked up at her, an intense stare greeted her. “She moves it, and in turn it energizes her. If something keeps her from raising it, then…”
Twilight’s eyes widened. Really? A flurry of thoughts tumbled through her mind, all the possibilities and conclusions that the revelation implied. One in particular teased at her, and if she was right… Luna had spoken of trust, and she had invested quite a bit of it in Twilight this morning.
“The same with my sister and the moon,” Celestia said into the air, her nose still pointed skyward. “You can see how this would be dangerous knowledge.”
“B-but,” Twilight sputtered, “you sent her to the moon! Wouldn’t that strengthen her?”
“Princess Luna, yes. Not Nightmare Moon.”
No words. Twilight glanced back and forth between the sisters, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not entirely an exile, then. Ponies deserved to know that. Luna deserved to have ponies know that. Except that it also led down the trail to where Twilight now stood. Then the words came. “So when Nightmare Moon wanted eternal night…”
“It would have rendered my sister virtually powerless,” Luna finished. Her ears didn’t droop, she didn’t hang her head, she didn’t avert her gaze. No joy or malice. Just a fact, but a rather monumental one. Yes, this could be dangerous knowledge.
Twilight nuzzled Luna. She would have sidled up to Celestia as well, but she hated to interrupt her basking and that blissful smile. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Luna bent her neck down… and curled her wings around to hug Twilight! She never did that! “Thank you for earning it,” Luna answered.
Without another word, Luna spread her wings, and Twilight followed suit, all soaking up the sun together. One, because she needed it, and the other two, because they needed her. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and felt the warmth—from the sun, from the two mares next to her, and from all the ponies she encountered day after day. Just like Luna had shown her.
A large grin dawned over Twilight’s face. She could get used to this.
