Someone Else's Sun

by LysanderasD

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1: Sunsong
Chapter 2: Cadenza
Chapter 3: Selene

Prologue

Listen close

and you will hear

the melody that

connects the world.

Once upon a time...

Because that is how all great stories start, really. Never mind that the beginning of a story itself has a beginning; things don't spring from the void, fully formed. No world simply exists; no circumstances simply are. It is in looking for the beginnings of the beginnings where things begin to become clear...

The Dark Lord had come from somewhere, after all. The Crystal Empire, vanished for a thousand years, its lands and inhabitants with it. It wasn't really right to call it an Empire any more, but that was what the Dark Lord had done, missives to the honorable Great Houses—demands to submit to the will of the 'resurgent Crystal Empire.' There had been war. For the first time in five hundred years the Great Houses had united against a common foe, Winter welcoming Summer onto their lands in a concerted effort to push the tide of the dark away. It was not difficult to bring light against the shambling darkness, to send the black-clad ponies scrambling back the way they'd came. There had never been any will to fight at all, really.

In the end, it all came down to the Dark Lord. The crystal spires of his castle were well within Winter's lands, the frozen north unwelcoming to the soldiers of Summer. But Winter pushed onward, into territory they had owned but never claimed, and the banners of Lord Winter were planted firmly in the permafrost as they marched. The walls of the dark continued to shatter before them. And now here they stand, the road to the plaza cleared, the castle doors trembling under the sound of their battle cries. Swiftly the war had begun, and swiftly it will end. Because, of course, there is always a happily ever after...

The door exploded.

"Get down!" Dame Chroma screamed, diving behind a pillar.

It did not shatter inward, as had been the plan, but outward, the crystal tearing through the magical battering ram. The knot of magi that had cast it into being writhed as the magic was disrupted, falling to their knees and grabbing futilely at their horns. The shrapnel from the door impaled more than one, shearing bone as easily as flesh; shards planted themselves deep in the marble of the floor and shattered against the solid crystal of the castle's hallways. Further back, there was the screech of crystal meeting a magical barrier it could not pierce.

The Valkyrie swore loudly, though it was lost under the screamed commands to pull Lord Winter back, keep him safe. Not that he needed to be kept safe, she groused. He would be fine. He always was.

The hall was filled with the thousand sparkles of enchanted crystal, falling slowly to the floor in fine grains. What damage there was going to be had already been done. But now they were down half a company of their best war magi—and they had who knew how many more doors to pierce on the way to the throne chamber, the place the despot was no doubt sequestering himself. Two dark knights with him, if intelligence was correct; the two he always kept with him. That would be a challenge.

The Valkyrie caught her breath and lowered herself to the ground again, scaleshod hooves crunching on shards of the ruined door. She felt like a fool for not expecting something like this. Now the strategists would have them sit back and devise a new strategy, and give the bastard more time to solidify his position. She grit her teeth. Damn them!

The Dark Lord isn't going anywhere, she could almost hear one of the scrawny unicorns wheedling. That may be so, Chroma conceded, but that was part of the problem. The cornered rat, as they say. Besides, who was to say any other doors were even trapped like this? Shattering a five meter crystal door was not the most of which the Dark Lord’s black magic was capable. There had once been six dark knights, after all, and there were thrice as many grieving mothers back in Weiss to prove it.

"We've got to keep moving forward!" she declared, stamping a hoof. She had to shout; the shattering of the door had deafened her, and anyway there was something about the whole place that seemed to steal sound away. Bits and pieces of the door, no bigger than sand, continued to rain with a gentle, muffled hiss.

"Dame Chr—" somepony behind her started.

"We can't give him any more time!" she spat, turning on a hoof and glaring at what was left of the contingent in the hallway. Overwatchers had already gotten the wounded and dying unicorns on stretchers and were moving them out of the hall. The phalanx that had formed around Lord Winter parted, and the alicorn stood to his full height, giving the Valkyrie a cool look. Despite her better judgment she returned it, and, much later than she ought, she added a sullen "... my lord."

There was silence in the hall, aside from the muffled hsssss as the crystal shards continued to rain, as if in slow motion, onto the ruined floor.

"I agree," said Lord Winter. Chroma brightened. "Dame Chroma, you will push forward."

She gave him a blank look, eyes thankfully hidden behind the visor of her helmet, and managed to ask "... By myself?" without sputtering too much.

"I will join you when the wounded have been tended to," Lord Winter declared. The aegis knights around him looked startled. "But you will not go alone."

"The rest of my unit is still outside, sir," she pointed out. "And I can't imagine, with due respect, that any of your guard are willing to leave you alone after a trick like that."

"Just so, Dame Valkyrie, just so," he murmured, and then stamped a hoof.

The sound went out like a whip crack, cutting through the muffling, thick air of the castle. Despite herself, Chroma had to actively will herself not to flinch from the sudden clarity of the sound. The air seemed to clear and Chroma took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, two ponies had moved around the lord's phalanx. One was the kirin blademaster she'd met earlier. The other...

Dark armor from hoof to horn, front to back, a wall of ominous blue-black that caught the light strangely, seeming to hold onto more than its share. Baleful yellow light shone from the eye sockets, obscuring the actual eyes beneath. A massive sword was sheathed at the pony's side, the handle and sheath constructed of the same unnatural light-eating material. Chroma bristled.

The dark knight shifted his head. He might have been looking at her. "Dame Chroma."

"You!" she snapped, feeling her wings snap open.

"Ser Future Sight has already proven his loyalty to me," said Lord Winter calmly. The cool look from before was back. Chroma rallied against it.

"My lord, three of my ponies are dead because of him!"

This seemed to bother the dark knight. Seemed. The word bothered her; seeming. It was always about seeming. You could never see their faces. You had to guess. You couldn't know. Who's to say all of this wasn't just another seeming? Here was a fellow who willingly walked away from his comrades. Second chances didn't exist in Chroma's strategy book.

"At the time," said Future Sight quietly, "I could have done nothing else. If I had not killed, I would have been killed."

"Better you than Fleetfoot and Snowflake and Rumble, you blackg—"

"Enough," rumbled Lord Winter, and the magic behind the command snapped around her muzzle, silencing her. She seethed openly. "Becalm yourself, valiant knight; it is in your nature to be faithful and to mistrust disloyalty, but in this you must trust me."

The kirin cleared her throat.

"With respect," she said in a clear voice, "I would not turn down his help in your position. He was close to the Dark Lord. He has information that will end this war. And frankly, I would rather fight with a dark knight than against one."

The Valkyrie's wings had already snapped open, a reflexive threat display. "I don't trust him!"

"Nevertheless," the dark knight replied smoothly. "Here I am."

Chroma gave Lord Winter a pleading look. "My lord—"

"You three are my champions," the alicorn said, voice overpowering her protests. "The three most powerful ponies under my command. If there were any ponies I trusted to pave the way to the Dark Lord, it would be the three of you. Dame Chroma, you have proven your loyalty to me time and time again; I know you would lay down your life in my service. Lady Kaze, the Emperor in the West could not have chosen a better representative. And you..."

Chroma was mollified somewhat to see that the look the alicorn gave to Future Sight was hard and cold, like steel spikes.

"You have many sins to pay for. Removing your master from power would be the first of many recompenses."

"He is not my master," said Future Sight, head facing down the empty hall.

"He taught you how to use that thing," Chroma spat, indicating the dark sword.

"An instrument of his power," the dark knight acknowledged with a shrug. "But now I am discordant to his tune. He is a conductor I will not follow. Whether you trust me or not is irrelevant, Dame Valkyrie. I will capture him with or without your help. Afterward, I will submit to your judgment. You have my word."

Your word is worth less than dirt to me, the pegasus thought, glaring at him.

"You are my vanguard," Lord Winter resumed, indicating the three ponies. "I and my guard will follow behind you. It is right to me that you do this. I trust in your power. You must trust in each other."

Kaze bowed deeply. Without taking her eyes off of the dark knight, Chroma knelt, inclining her head toward the alicorn. "Yes, my lord."

The dark knight continued staring into the distance. When they had stood again, he began walking, hoofsteps loud against the floor. Kaze furrowed her brow and worked to catch up. Chroma felt Lord Winter's eyes on her back as she spread her wings and followed.

What alarmed Chroma more than anything was how quiet it had gotten.

The Valkyries did not do 'quiet.' They lived for the thrill; racing through the clouds, half a ponylength ahead of the lightning. They were the first things enemies of House Winter heard, and the last thing they saw, if they could see after the blinding flash of a Valkyrie bending the storm to her will. And there had been plenty of that for months, now, slowly but most certainly pushing the despot’s forces back north, to the wretched wastes. For day upon day upon day upon day, Chroma and her brothers and sisters had lived and breathed battle, racing to bring the storm to the black-clad ponies under the Dark Lord's control. She had fallen in love with it, in a way, had looked forward to spreading her wings and leaping into the sky, spear trailing ozone behind her. It had always been noisy. But this?

The dark knight, Future Sight, walked ahead of her. This was not something that she had had to bother to declare, though she would have made it an order if push came to shove; the unicorn had simply decided to go first, and neither she nor the kirin had seen fit to correct this. He was making no attempt to be quiet, for good or ill; his hooves slammed against the floors of the crystal palace with a sort of chilling finality, as if he planned never to walk those steps again. Perhaps he didn't, really.

But what bothered her, what really bothered her, was that there was nopony around. Just to get to the doors they had had to fight through at least three score of enemy soldiers, crystal ponies and mind-controlled to the last—but they had, at least, been some form of resistance, even if a token sort. This, now, here, in the bowels of the crystal castle? The only sounds came from their hooves, bouncing off of the walls and back with, it seemed to her, a sort of funerary solemnity. There was no opposition. The emptiness of the place was frightening—it had the beauty of a tomb. It struck her as odd, suddenly, how somepony calling himself a Dark Lord could stand to live in a place so... well, she couldn't avoid using the word beautiful. It was all gems, all the time, looking as though they were all carved of a piece. Sapphire and emerald on the floor, ruby and jade and topaz and carnelian in the walls...

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. "Where the hay is everypony?"

Future Sight's head shifted slightly. Her eyes snapped to him; it seemed as though he were looking back at her out of the corner of her eye. But there went that word again—seeming, seeming seeming. She hated how he seemed.

"For a revered knight of the realm, your tongue is... common."

She glared at him. "So what? Dress me up and throw a ceremony. I'll throw all the right words at you at the right time. The rest of the time, I'll talk how I damn well please. You gonna answer my question?"

"The Dark Lord will have sent everyone else away, I suspect," Future Sight replied softly, looking to the fore again.

"Away?" asked Kaze. "Why?"

"When I left him last, weeks before, the war was already beginning to weigh on him. It was as though he... could not bear the weight of it. He would often sequester himself in his quarters and deny any audiences, even among us, we who might be called his most faithful servants. He had begun with such fervor, but it had begun to fade. When he sent me to attack Hoss Hill, he could barely look me in the eye. It was unlike him. And yet..."

Silence descended, but only for a moment.

"I believe he did not begin this war with any real desire to win it."

Chroma sputtered. "What?" When this failed to produce more than a shrug from the dark knight, she pushed forward, hovering next to him and punching him in his black-clad shoulder.

"Then he just wanted to send those crystal ponies to their meaningless deaths?" Kaze asked.

"It may be said, I think," said he, not acknowledging the touch, "that the Dark Lord does not know what he wants. That what he did and said was done out of anger. But wars cannot be apologized for. Lives cannot be brought back. I believe the Dark Lord has sent everyone else away to avoid more such meaningless deaths."

"I mean, I was expecting... something," Chroma said. "This just seems like a... a waste. Such a waste." And a letdown, she added to herself. Don't stories like this always have exciting conclusions? Grand clashes with the evil overlord? Weird, world-destroying magics averted at the last minute?

Was this how everything would end?

Not that she spent that much time reading, she told herself, face flushing behind her visor. Reading was for... for... eg... other ponies.

Future Sight held out a hoof. The trio stopped.

The hall before them opened up and split to either side, continuing around the circumference of the tower. Before them stood a door, at least as high or higher than the one that had shattered. Text ran across it in huge characters cut from the jade and topaz that composed it, though Chroma could not read it. In the center, divided cleanly where the doors might open outward, was the carving of a crystal heart.

"In darker times," said Future Sight softly, "before the empire re-emerged into the white of winter here, the inscription was unreadable. Now, the Dark Lord can read it from his throne; it is carved into both sides of the door. I think it has something to do with his descent into silence."

He trotted forward and laid a hoof on one of the great doors. "Better a bloodless ending. I do not think capturing him alive will be difficult, in any case. Yet this does not seem to be the victory he, or I, had once hoped for."

"What does it say?" Kaze asked. "Can you read it, Dame Chroma?"

"I doubt she can," said Future Sight. Chroma, mouth open to answer, shut it again and scowled darkly at him. "It was an old language when it was carved, when the crystals still pulsed with the lifeblood of the young world. The inscription reads 'The heart is the seat of all life. Let not its pull be forgotten; let not the radiance of love, the cadence of passion, fall into darkness.'"

"Will you just open the door, already?" Chroma asked, clamping her spear under her wing as it unfolded and extended with a series of snaps and bursts of magic. "I think I've decided I want to end this bloody war."

Celestia opened her eyes.

The sun had risen.

She screamed.

LysanderasD presents

A My Little Pony fanfic

Someone Else's Sun

Author's Note

Revised 06/12/2018.

A blog post will arrive eventually detailing this story's original presentation, and what I intend to salvage from it.

Chapter 1: Sunsong

Someone Else's Sun

A My Little Pony fanfic by LysanderasD

Chapter 1: Sunsong

"There, there, dear, it's going to be alright..."

A blanket settled over her shoulders, tucked in and around with utmost care to avoid disturbing her. Her jaw remained on the kitchen table, hooves pressed to her forehead. Celestia trembled, whimpering anew when her horn once again failed to present itself.

That wasn't the only thing missing. Attempts to shrug the blanket away with her wings produced nothing, the lack of their constant, downy warmth against her sides suddenly dreadful in its absence. She had never been without her wings, and the feeling terrified her.

But not as much as the lack of her Sun. Oh, it was up there; she knew it was, had to be. She could feel the warmth as the light passed through one of the kitchen's open windows, warming her snout. She could feel the warmth, but to somepony who had, for a span of time so long it may as well be uncountable, this was a pale imitation of what it felt like to actually feel the Sun. To grasp it in her magic. To comprehend all that it was. She sniffled.

"Are you going to be okay, now?"

And that was another thing, said the rational part of her. Since when does Princess Celestia freak out about anything? Because this qualified as a freak out, she was fairly certain. Twilight would no doubt agree, and, well, there was a mare who knew a thing or two about freak outs. That wasn't to say that the loss of her wings and horn wasn't a big deal, or the fact that the Sun had apparently risen without her guidance was inconsequential, because those were big things and they deserved to be worried about. But... calmly. She had had a thousand years and more to perfect how she reacted to things. She felt angry at herself for breaking down so easily. She had to... figure out what was going on, yes. Solve the problem. Start by gathering as much data as you can, as Twilight would say.

... She sniffled anyway. She had never been without her Sun. It made her feel naked and exposed. Even when Discord had been freed, she had been able to wrest some control back from him, even if only for a moment. This absence, this lack entirely, this was new, and it cut to the core.

"It must have been a terrible nightmare..."

She attempted to scoff. Her runny nose turned it into a mess, which made her groan. Something cottony, warm and dry pressed into her nose. "Blow, please."

She blew. It made her feel like a foal, or what she imagined it felt like to be a foal. How many times had she done something like that for Twilight Sparkle?

"Thank you." The hoofkerchief was removed.

Just the thought of the purple mare began to calm Celestia. She had, it must be said, come to rely a great deal on the young alicorn, even before her ascension. She had a way of getting to the root of problems. She solved problems. It could be said that her life was devoted to solving problems. That was admirable; Celestia had always been proud of her student. Yes. That's enough panicking, you stupid nag, now calm down and solve the problem. Twilight's shown you how to start often enough, hasn't she?

Celestia removed her hooves from her forehead, pressing them against the table as she lifted herself back up. She took a deep breath through her muzzle, and then opened her eyes. When her pink mane obscured her vision, she brushed it out of the way.

Fluttershy's cottage kitchen greeted her, along with the pegasus herself, smiling with that nervous sort of hopefulness that Celestia had come to associate with foals who prayed she wouldn't notice the smashed crystal vase lying in pieces around the room.

For a moment, Celestia felt slightly ill, but now she had a hold of herself and fought the uncomfortable urge back down into place. The pegasus' smile turned more genuine when Celestia nodded, and she set a mug of tea down before Celestia.

"It's your favorite..."

Celestia cleared her throat and attempted to mumble acknowledgment, but the tea was too much to resist. Too, too aware of her missing horn, she reached out with trembling hooves to grasp the mug, inhaling the sweet scent of orange pekoe. Which wasn't her favorite, admittedly, but she did have a fondness for the stuff. After a hesitant sip of the liquid revealed that it was just the proper temperature to drink, she went back for a second before setting the mug down, harder than she'd intended to. The quiet room echoed back the thick thunk of the porcelain. She turned to look at Fluttershy again.

Gentle turquoise eyes. Soft yellow coat. Pink mane, curled slightly at the tip and naturally smooth and soft. A demure beauty, even with the pleased, encouraging smile she was wearing now that her charge was no longer sobbing in terror. So familiar, now. It was like she'd never been gone at all.

I went to your funeral, she wanted to say. Pinkie Pie delivered the eulogy. I'd never seen the earth pony so heartbroken. I watched Rainbow Dash release the doves. It was perfect; just as you'd have wanted it.

But here was the pegasus, very much alive, and not a day older than she had been when Celestia had first seen her, that bright morning in the Castle of Two Sisters. That is important, said the part of her that was still attempting to think like Twilight Sparkle. Add that your list.

One: I am an earth pony and have lost my connection to the Sun.

Two: The Sun still appears to be moving regularly.

Three: Fluttershy is alive.

Four: ... Well, at the rate the morning is going, I'm sure something will be here eventually.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Sunsong," said Fluttershy gently, and flitted over to the earth pony's side to give a brief, but heartfelt, hug. Celestia lifted a single foreleg to return it, though the pegasus pulled away as she did. "I was really worried for a while."

Sunsong, she'd called Celestia. And while there was certainly a familiarity in the way Fluttershy was treating her, it was most definitely not the same sort of automatic reverence that everypony had given her as an alicorn. Had there ever been a Sunsong? Well, of course there had; she had only the other day been reading a treatise on harmony theory by a mare by that name. But it was an old work; she vaguely recalled that it had been one of the very first things placed in the castle archives in Canterlot. In a way, she found the name flattering. The issue was that it wasn’t her name.

Which meant... what did it mean? There were any number of things wrong with what she was experiencing. But better to play the part—and Celestia knew how to play parts. She just had to ask the correct questions.

"It was only a nightmare, my l..." Celestia checked herself. "... my friend."

Fluttershy blinked. "Um, I meant about the fever, too. You were pretty delirious. And the last dream is always the worst, I've found. But you made it! I'm sure Miss Firefly will be happy to see you awake when she returns."

The gears in Celestia's head momentarily hopped a cog. "Bweh."

Fluttershy's head tilted adorably. Celestia cleared her throat. "... Yes. Firefly. Of course."

Added to the list. "Erm. Moving on, dear Fluttershy, I did not... murmur in my sleep, did I?"

Instead of replying, the pegasus, pursing her lips, reached out a hoof and felt Celestia's forehead. "You feel alright," she said, though she still sounded doubtful. "Why are you talking like that?" There was a momentary pause, and then the meek pony wilted slightly. "Um. If you don't mind my asking."

Celestia blinked. "Talking like what?"

The other pony scuffed at the floor with the hoof that had been on the earth pony's head. "It's just that you're using the voice you use when the Duke is addressing you. That's your servant voice."

Servant voice? Duke?

"You know..." Fluttershy made an encouraging motion with a wing, and then affecting an impression of her voice that sounded bizarre from the shy pegasus, "'Yes, of course, Your Grace.'"

Celestia furrowed her brow. "... I see. But..." She attempted to force some of the habitual propriety from her voice. "Was I murmuring? I really do n—that is to say, I don't recall much. Just a haze, really."

"Oh, yes. It sounded kind of nice, actually." Fluttershy looked to the floor, forehoof tracing small circles on the wood. "Something about princesses and sisters, and you kept mentioning the name Twilight Sparkle. I didn't think you had a sister, Sunsong."

Celestia blinked. "Ah... I see."

"Do you?"

The question startled Celestia. Fluttershy looked genuinely curious, almost… longing, in a way. "Do I what?"

"Have a sister." Immediately the pegasus withdrew again. "Um. Sorry. I shouldn't pry."

"Of course she doesn't," said another voice from outside the kitchen. Celestia stiffened slightly, fighting to keep her expression straight as the door swung open and in stepped another pony.

She knew who it was before she even laid eyes on the mare. A life lived listening to petitioners had given Celestia something of a memory for voices. There were certain ones she never forgot. This one... Well, it was like Fluttershy, in a way, which had in its turn endeared her somewhat to the pegasus. Fluttershy's voice, minus the omnipresent shyness and filled, in its absence, with an abundant, unassuming friendliness, and just a hint of a drawl.

"Posey," murmured Celestia, closing her eyes. Of course. If Fluttershy was here, and Firefly was, what, out for a morning fly, why not include Posey, too?

She didn't need to see the earth pony to remember what she looked like, either, because that, too, was reminiscent of Fluttershy. Her coat was a shade darker, but she had the same long, pink mane with the curl at the end. It was coarser than Fluttershy's, but only just. The biggest difference...

Celestia opened her eyes. Fluttershy had hidden behind her mane, but the newcomer looked at Celestia proudly, a look that seemed wildly out of place on the face she nearly shared with her pegasus counterpart. The biggest difference was in Posey's eyes, which were a startling green. That had been what had drawn her to the earth pony in the first place, she recalled.

The yellow earth pony put a foreleg carefully over Fluttershy's shoulders and squeezed. The one corner of the pegasus' muzzle Celestia could see turned up in a soft smile and she leaned into the hug. "If she had a sister, I think she'd have introduced us to her by now, don't you think?" The earth pony grinned at her. "You come around her often enough anyway. Good to see you up, Sunny."

"Sunsong," Fluttershy corrected, about as firmly as she ever did. Her voice was at the edge of hearing.

"Sunsong, Sunny, Sunflower, whatever." Posey chuckled.

"I really don't mind what you call me, " Celestia offered.

"See?" Posey said, letting go of Fluttershy. The pegasus had colored slightly. "What, you're getting all embarrassed about it? But you don't blush when I call you 'Shy-'Shy..."

If she didn't normally, she did so now, and brightly, letting out a squeak and hiding behind her mane in earnest. After a moment, Celestia caught the sound of her mumbling, though she couldn't make out the words.

"You're a goofball, Fluttershy," was Posey's reply, patting the blushing pony on the head. "Love you, sis."

"... 've you too..." There was silence for a moment, aside from the awkward shuffling of hooves, before Fluttershy mumbled something about her pets and left the room. Celestia was left alone with Posey.

"Sisters..." Celestia murmured, managing at the last moment to shave off the upturn in tone that would have turned the statement into a question.

"Yep!" The other earth pony slid into the chair next to Celestia's, already nursing a cup of coffee. "Let me tell you, Sunny, you're missing out. Nothing quite like having a sister." She leaned in. Celestia furrowed her brow, watching Posey closely. "You think you could convince your parents to give it another shot?"

Celestia's mouth hung open slightly. Parents. Parents? She could not, for the moment, muster a reply. Posey mistook the silence for embarrassment. "Haha, just joking, Sunny, come on. You're always so serious. It's a nice day out! The sun's shining! You're on vacation, for Apollo's sake, the least you can do is lighten up. Miss Firefly's gonna run you ragged when she gets back anyway, you might as well enjoy it."

"Is she really?" Celestia asked dryly.

"You know how she is, Sunny," said Posey warmly, pulling away and wandering over to the cupboards, lips pursed thoughtfully. "Poor mare can't take a break even when she's supposed to be taking a break. I don't think it's healthy, the way she throws herself into things, but you know, can't argue with a mare who's got such an up and at 'em attitude."

Any doubt that this might, in fact, be a Firefly other than the one she remembered was more or less dashed by this point. Up and at 'em, yes—there was a phrase that described Firefly to a T. As Celestia recalled, it had gotten her in trouble more than once; but what was a Wonderbolt without a few crashes here and there anyway? It was traditional, as Rainbow Dash might cheerily declare, and it was a tradition that General Firefly had started. That hadn't stopped the look of shame from crossing the pegasus' face whenever Celestia had, for propriety's sake, been forced to reprimand her at the request of whichever noble whose house she'd buzzed this time. Propriety had never really sat well with the princess in any case, but ponies will be ponies, she supposed.

"...besides, you know she's got a thing for you," Posey was saying when Celestia resurfaced from her thoughts.

"Yes..." It took her a moment to process what had just been said. "Er, I'm sorry?"

Posey shot her a look, eyebrows raised, and let out an incredulous chuckle. "Gosh, I know you're a serious-Mc-Serious-Pants, but are you really that dense? I can see it, 'Shy-'Shy can see it. Miss Firefly's got the hots for you, if you know what I mean."

Celestia furrowed her brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you think she takes you everywhere? Oh, she'll never admit it. She's a pegasus, you're an earth pony, you know. Tribal stigma and all. At least until she takes over House Nubis, and then she'll have some sway with Lord Summer and it'll all be cool." Posey returned to the table with a few slices of raisin bread, which she proceeded to cover in butter. She had a stupid, cocksure sort of grin on her muzzle. Celestia was momentarily taken aback, having grown so used to Fluttershy. "Can't see what she likes about you, anyway. Oh, you're pretty enough, and I know Firefly's got a thing for mares..." She shrugs. "I mean, I'm all for it. Let her have her crush, I say. Just don't know if it'll work out in the long run, you not having wings and all."

Celestia didn't know what to make of all this, and decided instead to sort out what she’d heard. Tribal stigma? So there was something separating earth ponies from pegasi. The thought made her uncomfortable; she had spent over a thousand years dissolving the same cultural stigmas from between all three tribes. And yet here, wherever here was, all of that work had apparently been undone. And who was this Lord Summer? House Nubis? How far down did the rabbit hole go—and more importantly, how far down the chain of command had she ended up?

"I mean, she gets enough flak for hanging around with us every chance she gets, doesn't she?" Posey asked. "I mean, that's what you make it sound like. They're not even happy to have you up there, since Featherweight Charms are so damned expensive. Thank Apollo Miss Firefly's the heir, eh? She can still throw a tantrum from time to time to get what she wants."

That she wasn't a Princess any more was self-evident. That was important. So who was? Keep thinking, you stupid pony, keep thinking. Figure it out. If you stop and let it all swamp you, you'll drown. Don't reminisce. Think. Here and now. What do we know? Where can we go from here?

"And our leaders would surely disapprove," she said, once again shaving off the question mark.

"You know they would, Sunny." For the first time, Posey looked serious, muzzle twisting into a dejected scowl. "Look, I... Don't tell my sister, but there was another incident at the tavern yesterday. You know how it goes—I had to make a choice..."

"Incident?" Celestia asked, but her question was drowned out by the sound of the front door being kicked open. Amid the cacaphony of three dozen frightened animals, the princess' ears discerned a voice.

"Sunsong! Get out here!"

Posey rolled her eyes and mouthed, "Told you."

Celestia just nodded, took another sip of her tea, and slid out of her chair. She swung open the door to the living room, took a circuitous step around a fleeing ferret, and was immediately tackled to the ground.

A knock on the door drew Celestia from her reverie. She realized she'd reached the end of the scroll without reading very much of it at all and, with a pang of guilt, put it aside, setting down the quill and returning the lid to the inkpot. She would return to it later, and she would actually read it this time.

"Who is it?"

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," came Dream Chaser's voice. "It's General Firefly, said she wants to talk to you. I told her you were busy, but she..."

"It's quite alright," she said, rising and moving away from her writing desk. "She may enter."

The door to her chambers opened slowly. Firefly, in what Celestia guessed was supposed to be her uniform, stepped through before the door had swung all the way, caught it with a rear hoof, and pushed it shut. Once she heard the latch click, the Princess allowed her typically calm expression melt into amused disbelief. "Is that really your uniform?"

The pegasus looked slightly offended, though a blush worked its way onto her already rose-colored cheeks. "Yes, it is."

"But it is so..." Celestia searched for words, extending a hoof to experimentally probe the material. "... poofy."

Firefly cleared her throat and stood to her full height, putting on a stern look that certainly would have cowed the most stone-hearted of recruits. Unfortunately, given that Celestia was a respectable fraction of twice her height and no stranger to stern looks herself, the effect fell somewhat flat, a fact the pegasus seemed intimately aware of. Nevertheless, with as much of her diminished dignity as she could muster, she looked Celestia in the eye. “I'll have you know that poofy,” and she spat the word with a sort of self-aware sourness that did not quite break the façade, “is perfectly acceptable, and was even recommended to me by the tailor who put it together.”

“But it does not seem...” Again, Celestia paused, theatrically gesturing as if paging through a book, “aerodynamic.”

A pause. The expression on each mare's face refused to give an inch.

“But,” said Firefly, “it provides an excellent cushion for long meetings.”

Both mares chuckled, what tension there had been evaporating. Celestia shook her head gently. “My dear, you are a general. You should be setting a better example.”

“I'm setting a fine example!” Firefly said, no longer fighting the grin. “A fine example of what you shouldn't do in meetings, and by that I mean rant on and on and on about strategies no one's ever going to use because somepony...”

Here she cast a knowing look at Celestia, who returned a look of purest innocence.

“...is so damned good at politics that we may very well never see another war. I tell you, you're going to put us military types out of work!”

“Am I to assume that is what you are here to discuss?”

“Yes!” Firefly declared, and then balked. “Sort of.” When the Princess tilted her head in a silent request for her to continue, she added, “Well, this is going to sound kind of weird, but I was out at Rainbow Falls the other day...”

The pony atop her seemed far too large to be Firefly until Celestia reminded herself that she was now the size of a normal pony. Beyond that, the sharp contrast between deep blue, roiling eyes and the pale rose color of her coat made her seem somehow larger than life. And heavier. Celestia wheezed. “Firefly, please...”

“You'd better not make me worry like that again!” snapped the pegasus sternly, and Princess Celestia, who had once stared down an entire horde of dragons, flinched. Their faces were less than an inch apart. “We came out here for some peace and quiet and you spend half of it writhing around in Fluttershy's bed, sicker than a dog.”

“I,” Celestia started to say. Firefly opened her mouth to retort.

A low, encouraging sort of whistle sounded from behind her. She looked up to the upside-down image of Posey standing in the doorway to the kitchen, mug in hand. “Is this how you intend to start all your mornings as a royal couple, Firefly?”

Celestia pushed against the pegasus. “Air...”

“I mean, I'm not judging,” Posy continued as Firefly, expression smoldering, got up off of Celestia and fluffed her wings. “It's actually kinda hot. I mean, if you're into that kind of thing.”

The alicorn-turned-earth-pony rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her hooves, taking great breaths of air.

“What I intend to do once I get married is my business. As is who,” Firefly was declaring primly once she had regained enough composure to look around. The pegasus' statement earned a wry sort of chuckle from Posey.

“Right, uh huh.”

Firefly gave Celestia an aside glance that reminded her all too much of Rainbow Dash. The severity of her situation, never quite having left, crashed down upon her again with full force.

“Whatever,” Firefly declared darkly, and then turned to Celestia. “You stay here for a sec. There's something I want to grab. It arrived while you were up in bed, rolling around and moaning about the sun.” She disappeared upstairs, leaving the two earth ponies. Celestia attempted to avoid the suggestive glances Posey was giving her.

The window provided an ample distraction. She remembered Fluttershy’s cottage as being quite a ways out from Ponyville proper, but for all she knew she could have been anywhere. The tree was what drew her attention first.

It almost seemed disrespectful to merely call it a tree. It was a giant among trees, standing what could have been miles tall. Healthy, its broad branches and leaves dominated a huge portion of the sky from the view of the window. Beneath it, the unmistakably wild visage of the Everfree Forest spilled in an awkward, uncontrollable mess. A tree that size ought to have killed every competitor by now, but the Everfree seemed to fight on regardless, even under the unbelievably wide branches of the tallest of its trees. There was no mistaking the effects of magic like that, though how it had managed to hold stable in the chaotic magic of that forest was a mystery to her

More troubling to her was the fact that the Palace of Friendship, the spires of which were easily visible for several miles out of Ponyville, was nowhere to be seen. In the distance, far from the treeline and well out of the shadow of the giant of the forest, she could make out the tips of the hamlet’s cottages, but the silver-blue crystal of Twilight Sparkle’s domain failed to present itself. Celestia bit her lip.

“Here!”

Something was thrown about her neck. She had to fight off the impulse to turn and throw a hoof at Firefly, who chuckled nervously as she landed beside her. “Uh, sorry, Sunsong.”

Celestia looked down. A scarf had been loosely strewn around her neck, a deep burgundy color that reminded her of her mother. Interwoven in the fabric was a whimsical, spiraling trail of golden lettering which, after a moment, she deciphered as ancient Pegasopolis script. She raised a hoof to grab at it, but the moment her hoof brushed the gold a faint jolt shot through it and she started. Of course—she’d so long been used to feeling for magic with her horn that noticing its touch with her hooves came as something of a quite literal shock.

“Would you believe I ordered that from Whimsy last time we were in Prosperity? He didn’t manage to actually get off his lazy flank and send it to us until you’re flat on your back in Ponyville.” Firefly chuckled dryly. “Well, he does good work, I guess, even if he isn’t very prompt about it.”

Celestia brought her hoof to the gold lining again. This time it was less of a jolt and more of a tingle, the feeling of lightning underhoof on a cloud.

“It’s enchanted with cloudwalking,” the pegasus continued. “This way you don’t have to keep getting those weird spells cast on you every time we head back up to the capital. Just keep the scarf nearby and you’ll be good. Oh, and I guess it’ll keep you warm, too.”

How poetic, she thought. A cloudwalking spell inscribed on old pegasus script. “Thank you, Firefly.”

“I got one that matches!” Firefly replied, more enthusiastically this time. Celestia took another look. A scarf similar to hers was draped over the pegasus’ withers, the same vibrant blue as her mane. The inscription on hers was bronze colored.“Of course, mine isn’t enchanted, ‘cause obviously I don’t need it. But I figured if you’re always following me around, we might as well match.”

“How thoughtful,” Celestia said kindly, giving her a smile. Firefly’s chuckle this time was nervous. “I like it.”

Firefly scuffed a hoof along the floor, a surprisingly meek action. “So, yeah,” she said, though Celestia spotted the way she struggled to keep her proud grin from becoming too obvious. “Glad to have you back. It would’ve sucked if you survived working for me for this long only to kick it by getting sick.” She huffed. “You’re my bodyguard and an all-around badass, you’re not supposed to make me worry like that.”

Celestia turned to her and raised a hoof to her own chest, inclining her head. “Lady Firefly, I do swear on my honor that I shall never make you worry like that again.”

The pegasus swatted her gently, expression much more relaxed and genuine. “Hey, now, what’ve I said about using that voice on me? Sun’s sake, you’ll turn me into my sire.” She let out a little sigh. “But thanks.”

Celestia’s attention was drawn out of the window again. The great tree dominated her view, casting a shadow that loomed off eastward, even though by her reckoning it couldn’t have been past two in the afternoon. The entire thing made her uneasy, in a deeper and more fundamental way than the Everfree itself. No tree that large could mean anything good. Moreover, Firefly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

Today was becoming more intriguing—and more worrisome—by the minute, and she hadn’t even been awake for two hours yet.

“Feel like getting a breath of fresh air for once?” Firefly said, drawing Celestia’s attention away from the window and back toward her charge. “Can’t imagine spending all this time indoors surrounded by animals is too good for you. I mean…” She looked around. “No offense to Fluttershy, I just prefer the open air, you know?”

Celestia nodded. “Actually, it would be nice to step outside. Perhaps we can visit the town?”

This earned a chuckle. “If you want to be bowled over by Pinkie, sure. I’m surprised she’s not already here with a ‘We’re Glad You’re Better Sunsong’ cake or something.”

The metaphorical punches to the gut were becoming distressingly routine given how briefly she’d been awake. “Yes,” she said, voice faltering slightly. “That is surprising.”

“But yeah, I bet the town’ll be glad to hear their hero’s back on her hooves.” Firefly meandered toward the door, and Celestia followed. “Oh, and before we go…”

The book the pegasus offered Celestia had the look of a homemade journal, bound in simple materials and without so much as a scrawl on the cover. Her suspicions proved true when she opened the front cover, spying ‘Sunsong’ inscribed in the upper corner.

“Kept it safe for you like you asked. I know the way you like taking notes.”

“Yes,” Celestia said, turning the page and skimming it. “Yes… Thank you. I’ll have to get back to this as soon as possible. For now…?”

The desire to simply sit down and pore over this journal was a strong one, and despite her words she warred with the idea. But firsthoof experience would win out in the end, she supposed, and the book would always be there later. For now…

Celestia swallowed, and looked out into the world being lit by someone else’s sun.

For now she had to see, and learn, and using what she saw and learned, solve the problem.

But for Celestia, daughter of the Speaker, solar diarch of Equestria, the problem seemed very big indeed.

Author's Note

Revised 06/12/18.

A blog post will arrive eventually detailing this story's original presentation, and what I intend to salvage from it.

Chapter 2: Cadenza

Someone Else's Sun

A My Little Pony fanfic by LysanderasD

Chapter 2: Cadenza

Cadance woke to the gentle touch of a hoof on her shoulder.

On reflex she attempted to roll away. The soft surface on which she found herself yielded more than she expected, and she managed a full rotation onto her stomach before she regained stability and attempted to crawl further away, eyes shut tight. Her whole body protested, especially her wings, and the scars on her back throbbed as her feathered appendages twitched. Only after a long silence, with her breath coming shallowly and her heart racing, did she open her eyes. When her eyes were finally able to process what she was seeing, she let out a great sigh.

Never had she thought she would be relieved to wake up and not see the Crystal Palace. Instead she found herself in a tent, the fabric a deep blue that reminded her of the night sky. She had been resting on a great pile of pillows and blankets, looking as though they’d all been jumbled together in a hurry. Some of them had been taken from the Palace, though she noticed none of her personal effects among them. The whole place put her vaguely in mind of Auntie Luna after a bad da—

Cadance closed her eyes as a wave of nausea passed through her.

“Are you alright, milady? I, I’m very sorry for disturbing your rest, it’s simply…”

The stallion’s voice trailed off as she opened her eyes again and looked at him. She could tell at a glance that he was a timid sort, with a long yellow mane that covered part of his sky-blue snout and hid an eye from view. He had the earnest look of a doctor checking in on his patient.

“It’s good to see you awake at last, milady. When they brought you back to camp…” He shuddered. “The menders have done their best, but those scars… I’m sorry.”

Cadance nodded, resting her head on her forehooves.

“But you don’t want to hear about that… honestly, I’m sure you’re very confused. My name is River Source, Mender Magus in service to Lord Winter. And you, of course, are, um, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire, yes?”

She nodded.

“My word, we haven’t had a princess in ages. I’m afraid things have… changed while you were…”

The unicorn visibly bit his tongue. Cadance found herself admiring his discretion; while normally she hated ponies walking on eggshells around her, given the circumstances and the fact that her body still felt like it had been trampled by a hydra, the fact that this stallion was taking the time to choose his words carefully felt like a great boon.

“But now isn’t the time for a history lesson. Princess, do you think you can stand?”

The alicorn looked back at a hind leg, then back to River. He nodded. “It should all be fixed, yes, but this is just to… to be sure, you understand. I don’t know how long you were kept down there, but we’ve been able to reverse a lot of the damage. Of course you’ll need to eat well and recover your strength, but, ah, alicorns like yourself are quite, eh, resilient, I see.”

She’d been struggling to her hooves as he’d been talking, and as he finished she took a few shaky steps forward and off of the mess of cushions.

“I hope you’ll pardon the, eh, less than ideal resting area, your highness. For a time you were quite fitful until we managed to secure a dreamwalker to patrol your area.” He spotted her blank look and furrowed his eyebrows. “Ah, yes, dreamwalker, I suppose that would be new to you as well…”

He clicked his tongue, hesitating as he brought his hoof up toward her muzzle and she flinched. “I apologize,” River said, bowing deeply. “I did not consider your situation and I acted on reflex.”

Cadence looked down at him, biting her lip, before gesturing to let him know he could rise. He did so, looking at her without meeting her eyes.

“Princess Cadenza, as a physician it is my solemn vow to never knowingly inflict suffering on my charges. I humbly request permission to conduct a brief examination. On my honor as a mender, you will come to no harm. Please,” he requested gently, drawing a pillow from the pile with his magic, “sit. I’d like to conduct a very brief examination, just to see how well your wounds are healing.”

She sat, but she couldn’t help but draw her head away as his hoof approached again. At his barely-suppressed grimace, she slowly brought her head forward again.

River Source’s touch was like the faintest breeze on a still day. It reminded her of Cloudsdale—

This time she actually retched. The unicorn retreated slightly. “Princess?”

Her eyes screwed shut and she began to tremble again, drawing shallow breaths until the sickness subsided. As the examination resumed, she turned inward, throwing up the same mental shells that had kept her sane through the dark times. She was vaguely aware of questions, and chose not to answer them. Before she was really aware that River was done, she was already being gently guided back to the mound of pillows.

She bubbled back up from dreamless sleep to the sound of voices. She couldn’t make out the words, and honestly felt that she didn’t want to; they were intruding on her rest, and she was so tired…

One of them she eventually picked out as belonging to River Source. The other voice…

It was familiar in a visceral way, the kind of familiarity that took root in her mind and refused to give way. It was like something she ought to know; yet that deep timbre, the way the sound eased its way into her consciousness… It carried a certain intensity, a certain implicit forthrightness, and though it was clearly the voice of a stallion it reminded her for all the world of Auntie Luna.

The fear of the lash that did not come was what finally woke her, and she sat up suddenly, ready to beg for mercy before the biting magic came. The soft warmth of the pillows beneath her drew her out of that fleeting past, and she became aware of a slight but chilling breeze through the tent flaps, through which the voices had been coming as she slept.

River’s head parted the flaps, his expression brightening when he noticed her sitting up. “Your Highness, you’ve awoken.”

He withdrew for a moment and she heard him add “Please pardon me momentarily, my lord,” before entering the tent fully. “How do you feel? Any outstanding aches or pains?”

Cadence shook her head. River gave her an odd look.

“Princess… forgive my bluntness, but… can you speak?”

Despite herself, the look she gave him was slightly cold. He seemed to get the hint, and lowered his head. “Forgive my lack of tact, Princess, I overstepped my bounds. I simply assumed that it was a curse, and with the defeat of the Da… of our, em, opponent, it would have lifted itself. Our examinations produced nothing, but…”

“Doctor Source,” the deep voice outside the tent rumbled. “I would like a chance to speak to your charge.”

“Y-yes, of course, milord,” said the unicorn. “I simply—that is to say, she has been out of the loop for so long—”

“Doctor,” said the voice again, in the sort of voice a parent might use when they began to reach the edge of their patience. “I am coming in.”

“Yes, milord,” said River, turning to the tent’s flaps and bowing. Cadance’s attention was already there, and she waited to see who would come through the door.

It was an alicorn, which at once terrified her and absolutely failed to surprise her. What did surprise her was how large he was—easily Celestia’s height, possibly even more. She had never encountered a male alicorn; had not even known they were possible. But she had been surrounded by the impossible for a long time—even if her mind now refused to dwell on much of it.

The alicorn reminded her of Aunt Luna, at least superficially; he had the same midnight-blue coat, though his eyes were closer to lavender than teal and he lacked her trademarked ethereal mane. He had the look of a warrior, and though he appeared calm and professional, the way his cerulean mane sat suggested he had, until recently, been wearing a helmet. As it was, he was wearing something not unlike royal regalia—shoes and peytral in white-silver, but his head was bare.

He was sizing her up the way she was sizing him, and she knew it. She felt his eyes lingering on her scars and her cheeks burned as she ruffled her wings. Shameful. His mouth opened slightly as though he were drawn from his thoughts.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, crossing a foreleg over his chest and bowing his head deeply. “I realize this must feel an invasion of privacy by a stranger. I did not consider my position, or yours, and I apologize.”

The silence that followed was awkward. She watched him, not afraid to hide her suspicion. River Source cleared his throat. “Milord, she… she cannot speak.”

The alicorn’s brow furrowed as he looked back up at her. She managed to give him a shrug.

“I see,” he said, finally. “Well. Firstly, you must be hungry—I will have food brought at once.” River pushed his way outside the tent. “Secondly… well, you surely have many questions, and I would like to do my best to answer them.”

Cadance leaned slightly to try and see past him. The gap in the tent flaps betrayed nothing but bright light, and she winced. His head followed her gaze. He turned his head back to her, concerned, before nodding. “Can you walk, Your Highness?”

He held out a hoof. She took it, and very carefully pulled herself up onto all fours. She wavered a little bit, gritting her teeth, before she found her balance. The alicorn seemed unconvinced, but did not stop her. He turned to open the flap. Cadance shielded her eyes, but still found herself tearing up as the brightness filled the tent, and it took her a minute of blinking and rubbing at her eyes before she could bring herself to move out into the open air.

She shivered, removed from the warmth of the tent. It took her another moment to parse her surroundings. It was overcast, but the ground was covered in a dusting of snow that reflected what light there was. In every direction sprung wave after wave of tents, in various shapes and sizes and colors, with ponies she could only assume were guards, or—

Soldiers. Of course. A military camp. Where else would she be? Certainly not the Empire.

As from a great distance, she heard the alicorn bark an order, and after a moment she found something warm and heavy laid across her back. Drawn back into herself, she looked down to see she’d been wrapped in a cloak. The soldier responsible, an earth pony mare, gave a brief salute to both her and the alicorn before withdrawing. Cadance looked back to him again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and careful.

“What I need to tell you will be difficult. I do not wish to shock or scare you, but there are certain facts you must be made aware of before we move on.” He wasn’t looking at her, but into the distance, eyes focused on nothing. Cadance furrowed her brow and opened her mouth, but could not give him a reply. He continued.

“My name is Artemis,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I am called Lord Winter. I do not know how long it appeared to be for you, but by our estimations, the Crystal Empire vanished for nigh-on a thousand years, only reappearing around four years ago. From the perspective of the outside world, you have missed over a millennium—and the Equestria you knew is no more.”

She ought to have been shocked, appalled—but she was more surprised to find out that she wasn’t. Time had had no meaning in the void—her memory of the last forever was filled with a haze of pain and agony and turmoil and worry and loneliness—and she found, coming out on the other side of it, that having the world change entirely in her absence was not entirely unwelcome. Returning to her life—or what would remain of her life, her kingdom her people—would have been difficult. Returning to Shining Armor, or to Celestia or Luna, or to Twilight… The thought almost sickened her.

She winced again, reflexively, waiting for the pain that did not come. Across the table from her, the Lord Winter hesitated.

“Your Highness?”

Her magic—shaky, uncertain, but still hers—grabbed the quill and parchment that had been laid beside her for her use, while her hooves and mouth were occupied with food. She wrote, What happened to the princesses? The other ones.

His lips thinned. “We… that is to say, our records of that time are sparse at best. We do know that shortly following the disappearance of the Crystal Empire, Princesses Celestia and Luna vanished, for reasons and to parts unknown. After no small amount of worldwide panic, it was found that the Sun and the Moon continued on their paths, suggesting that, wherever they were, the Princesses at least maintained control of the celestial spheres.”

She wrote, And Princess Twilight?

He looked confused. “...Who? We have no record of a Princess Twilight.”

Now her blood ran cold, and her magic faltered, dropping the quill. Artemis stood, noticing her distress, but, with some difficulty, she managed to bring a hoof to her chest and breathe in, then out, then in, then out…

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” At her confirmation, he sat back down. “It has been a difficult time for you,” he said, nodding. “I am not surprised your memories are somewhat jumbled.”

That stung, and she did not manage to hide it from her eyes. He had the dignity to look abashed.

“Or,” he admitted, “just as likely, our records are incorrect. There may very well have been a Princess Twilight. Even after the situation of Day and Night was resolved, there was no end to the distress of Equestria’s citizens, who had, for no short amount of time, always had a princess to look up to. Without proper moderation, the distress escalated to infighting, infighting to a schism, and schism to civil war. Much of Equestria was reshaped, and…” He hesitated. “As a political body, it did not survive. An uneasy peace fell over the Equestria that was—until lines were drawn, new countries created, and the old ways left behind. And unfortunately, just what caused the Empire to vanish in the first place is one of history’s greatest unsolved mysteries.”

He took a deep breath. “Where you sit now is—or, more aptly, was, land claimed in the name of the Great Noble House of Winter, which claims Mount Canter, and much of the north and east of what was once Equestria proper. The Great Noble House of Summer owns the south and the west, and much of what you might remember as the Badlands. Strictly speaking, the Frozen North is my land—but perhaps it is better to say it belongs to you, or will belong to you when the war is formally resolved. We do not know Summer’s position on your reclamation of the Empire and its land, but for myself and my subjects, know that you are welcome to take back what is yours...” Artemis paused. “...Eventually.”

Some part of Cadance wanted to protest (These are my ponies, not yours!), but she saw the logic. She certainly wasn’t in a position to retake her throne now, and she was self-aware enough to realize it. Wounded, starved, and scarred, she…

She bit her lip, and wrote, What about my ponies?

Artemis hesitated again. With a slight shock she realized she could tell why—her deep empathy, her talent, beginning to resurface. He did not want to hurt her, genuinely, and he knew the answer would do so. She steeled herself.

“The Dark Lord,” began Lord Winter, slowly, carefully choosing each word, “had… tools, to bend ponies to his will. To make puppets, and slaves, prisoners of mind and body. In the early days of the war we did not realize that we were fighting, for all intents and purposes, civilians…”

Cadance’s heart, already fragile, began to crack along the seams.

“...and even after we did, in many cases, there was no choice but to resort to… violent methods,” he said, ears pinned back. “The remaining population of Crystal Ponies is, as you might imagine, scared, scarred, confused… and diminished. I believe it would do their hearts good to see you, when you are prepared—but not today, and not in any permanent sense, until both they and you are in a position to live independently again.”

She wrote, with some difficulty, And the Crystal Heart?

She knew before he began that it was yet more bad news. She began to shake as he opened his mouth. “We have records of its existence—mostly as myth, or legend, like the Empire itself… but we have seen and felt no trace of it since we reached the capital.”

She realized, quite suddenly, that she had been coasting this far on shock, had not really, truly considered her position or her own self, ignoring it, blocking the pain. But now it was rushing back, memories and feelings, echoes of ignored pain, emotions, a tidal wave of pressure.

An image: A distant pale figure, cloaked in red and black, barking orders. A sensation: burning pain in her wings, along her body, in her very soul, her heart and her self breaking—

The world swam. Artemis leaped to his hooves. Distantly, she heard “Your Highness? Princess Cadenza! … Medic!”

She did not dream—she remembered, and her body hurt.

Ser, I need to know. What did you do to her?

She remembered this: The takeover was sudden and without warning. She had understood—indeed, by all accounts it had been proven fact both scientific and arcane—that Sombra had been utterly annihilated by her attack. There was no trace of him, and his long-overdue death broke the remnants of his curse, of his hold, over the Empire.

Torture. Agony. Ruination of body and soul. The Dark Lord hated, and he hated her most of all.

She remembered this: When the sky darkened suddenly on an otherwise brilliant summer day, however, the cause was unmistakable. This was no hurricane, such as the Storm King might have wrought, no swarm of invaders led by a vengeful changeling queen—this was blackness, sheer darkness, coating the Empire in palpable malice and fear.

You so casually express your cruelty, ser knight.

She remembered this: She never saw Sombra, was never given the chance to see Sombra. Not during the takeover. She saw, instead, ponies clad in ebon armor from hoof to horn, acting as his enforcers. Faceless, maneless, markless—noponies, knights obscured by darkness. They stripped her of her crown and of her throne, and locked her in the deep and the dark, the cold stone of the dungeon where the crystals did not shine, and there they took from her everything she had.

In the moment, I took pride in it. Now her ruination is my shame. She will hate me, when she sees me. She will not have emerged unchanged.

She remembered this: A blur of pain, lacerations, broken bones and plucked wings. She remembered fear and despair, a neverending surge of nightmares, of things that she knew could not be but could not deny, of isolation, of time standing still, an eternity of loneliness.

I trust I do not need to tell you that that sort of treatment of prisoners is unacceptable. Even him.

She remembered this: The fog of pain was lifted, and light shone upon her for the first time in uncountable years. Was it summer? She had forgotten. Maybe it didn’t matter. Ponies, actual ponies, finding her and freeing her. A flash of rainbow, a sensation of insistent speed. The quiet darkness of rest.

She is my only concern now. Her safety and recovery. Though she is silent, and cannot sing, she matters, Lord Winter—more than you could possibly know.

She remembered this: Her name was Mi Amore Cadenza. She had a loving husband named Shining Armor, and a brilliant sister in law, Twilight Sparkle. She had two loving aunts in Celestia and Luna. She was originally a pegasus from Cloudsdale. Her special talent was empathy, particularly love.

If she is willing, I will entrust her protection to you. But by the way you speak, this is not likely.

She remembered this: None of it mattered any more. Everything was gone. Everything was gone…

If I must protect her from the darkness, then so be it.

Author's Note

For all, what, four of you still waiting for updates for this, here you go.

Edits are being made to bring all of this work's chapters in line with this one; a blog post will be put up eventually with more details regarding its original presentation.

Thank you for reading, and I appreciate your feedback.

Chapter 3: Selene

Someone Else’s Sun

A My Little Pony fanfic by LysanderasD

Chapter 3: Selene

“...lene? Selene!”

She stared. What had she been doing? She didn’t remember.

“Selene, are you paying attention to me?”

The unicorn in front of her suddenly came into focus. Stark white, with a close-cropped jet black mane and a stern-looking face topped by intense blue eyes, staring directly at her—at… at Selene? Was Selene her name?

It must be. She was Selene. Something about that seemed strange to her but she had to focus on her mother, who was scowling. Around her, though she did not have time to focus on it now, a room (her room, she knew) seemed to materialize as she was dragged out of whatever had been consuming her so thoroughly. Blue and silver, ornate, fancy bed at one end—that all seemed correct. But something was strange. What was strange?

“Young lady, answer me.” A command, barked, sharp-edged—the voice of someone who would not brook disobedience. Selene swallowed.

“Yes, Mother.” Something about her voice seemed wrong, but she couldn’t place it—nor did she have time to worry about it. Her mother’s scowl deepened. Selene added, hastily, “I’m sorry, Mother—I lost focus for a moment. What were you saying?”

The unicorn sighed sharply, through her teeth. Selene tried not to wince. “Honestly, you spend so much time daydreaming it’s a wonder you have time to learn anything at all. Listen closely. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Mother,” Selene said, giving the mare her complete focus.

There was a brief and uncomfortable silence. Her mother’s piercing blue eyes seemed to drill into her own. She did not look away—too intimidated, and admittedly somewhat ashamed, to look away.

“The Dark Lord has accepted your father’s terms of surrender. There is a special hearing of the court in half an hour, which Stella and I must attend. You will be pleased to hear that Dame Chroma arrived ahead of schedule, and it is through her that we have become aware of this news. Your training with Lord Vision will have to be put aside until later—he will need to be in attendance as well.”

Facts hammered into her like concussive bolts. She understood what they meant, even though it felt like the first time she’d heard them. The evil pony in the north had surrendered. The war was over. Her father—her father was safe. A confusing mix of emotions roiled in her chest, and she managed what she hoped was a cheerful smile. Her mother did not react.

“Until that time, I want you to behave—no nonsense with Lulamoon, do you understand me? Moondancer will be along shortly, for study and not play. Are you listening to me, Selene?”

She managed another, “Yes, Mother,” around the uncomfortable tightness in her chest.

A knock on the door drew the attention of both mare and filly. “Enter,” said her mother.

A light brown stallion in servants’ clothes opened the door and inserted his head briefly. “Pardon my intrusion, Lady Trine, but they’re expecting you…”

Selene’s mother—Trine, she knew, but whenever she tried to focus on it she only thought ‘Mother’—gave a curt nod and stood. “Of course. Tell them I’ll be in momentarily.”

The stallion gave a bow and removed himself. Mother caught the door in her silver-pale corona before he could close it, and crossed to the threshold before giving a glare back in Selene’s direction.

“Behave,” she said, then strode out and closed the door behind her.

Selene stared.

It was like waking from a dream. She had to gather herself, remember who she was, where she was. But that was part of the process—something her mother could not understand. Vision had taught her, and she had only been doing what she’d been taught. Daydreaming was a word for it, fair enough, and she hadn’t gone far enough to enter anyone’s world but her own. Still, she admitted to herself, it was disrespectful.

Things came back into focus, and she took a deep breath. The war was over. There had been murmurings, rumors, for weeks, but finally, confirmation, and confirmation from someone who would never betray her lord for a lie. It was a strange feeling, and one she was oddly of two minds about; for her, the war had been going on for what felt like most of her childhood. Selene could not honestly remember a time before war. But she knew, with a strange and unshakeable certainty, what it was like to be at peace. There would be smiles on the common ponies’ faces. No more casualty reports. Nopony would have to dance around the filly, avoiding the ‘adult’ topics that she had already learned about, seen time and time again, in dreams.

She turned and caught herself in the mirror above her vanity. She looked—well, what foolishness. She looked like herself. How else would she look? She tried to search her memory, unsure where she’d gone in the nebulous dreamscape of the waking world that would leave her so disoriented. She looked like her father. Wings, horn, and all. The only difference was the bright teal of her eyes.

Her attention moved to the door again, brow furrowing. She wanted to be part of the audience, to hear the report from the Dame herself. But Mother had excluded her. Of course, she wasn’t the heiress, she knew that. Stella would be Lady Winter one day. That didn’t stop Selene from feeling left out.

She sighed. She knew, of course. Her destiny was different. The Council had singled her out as a student of somnomancy, had taught her to walk in dreams—was teaching her to walk in dreams, when time allowed. In a way, her destiny was greater than her sister’s. But the dreamwalkers trod on in darkness, and sat on no thrones. She did not fancy a lonely future in the dream world, even though both of her sisters, even Stella, looked on with something like jealousy. The little ladies—little princesses, each wanting to be the heroine. Well, she wondered—how would they like it in her shoes?

Selene moved to her door and opened it. The castle’s hallways stretched endlessly to her left, and rounded a corner to her right. Afternoon sunlight poured through the massive windows of the residential wing, the marble offset by the blue-and-silver regalia of House Winter. In the distance, there was the murmur of activity, bouncing off of the smooth stone of the walls. Movement around the corner turned her eye. Moondancer rounded the bend, carefully straightening her glasses, and stiffened nervously when she saw Selene.

There was something eternally unkempt about the young mare, though it was always difficult to understand why or how. She followed dress code, and her glasses and mane were always pristine—but out of the corner of one’s eye, she always looked somehow mussed. Selene wondered if it had something to do with her bearing, which was always a little—well, not slow, but off, like she was constantly distracted. Not that Selene was one to talk, in that regard.

“My lady,” she offered with a bow. Two tomes levitated beside her, caught in her magic. Selene lit her own horn to take one without comment. “I’ve been—that is, your mother… We’re to spend the afternoon studying,” she said, finally finding her hoofing on familiar ground. She managed a hopeful smile. “Even if we’re not allowed into the meeting, it gives us a chance to catch up on history!”

Selene tried not to wilt. History was her weakest subject. Names, dates, battles, successions—in one ear and out the other. None of it bothered to stick, despite her best efforts, or Moondancer’s. Nevertheless, there was something infectious about the young mare’s earnest, awkward enthusiasm, and Selene could not bring herself to ruin just about the one thing that seemed to bring her joy, so—well, studying it was.

Nevertheless, she felt she might as well have slept through history, for all the good studying it did.

It was barely thirty minutes later when she felt the chill.

Selene was drawn back out of the text by the sudden surge of something—a feeling, a prescience. Moondancer was speaking, but Selene wasn’t listening, her head snapping up and turning toward the door. Something electric went up her spine and her wings fluttered nervously.

It was a familiar feeling, a sense of apprehension settling inside once it had finished traveling up past her wings. Nothing physical, not even necessarily magical, but something had washed over her like a sudden downpour. She could feel it. Something had changed.

The third tap on her shoulder drew her back into herself. She turned her head to find Moondancer reaching across the table nervously, biting her lip. For a moment, her image seemed to waver, and Selene though she saw her wire-framed glasses shimmer into blocky, square frames. But then she blinked, and all was as it should have been.

“Are you… alright, milady?”

“Did you…” Selene shook her head. “Did you feel that?”

Moondancer’s head tilted. “Feel what?”

Selene opened her mouth to reply, but Moondancer’s expression changed before she could vocalize. “There’s… something. It’s faint, but the somnomantic plane has… shifted.”

Somnomantic plane. Selene preferred to think of it as a dream world, separate from the waking—a fundamentally different existence, governed by different magics, by different rules. The scientific term felt like putting a whole new world in a box too small to contain it. Whatever it may have been called and by whom, though, Moondancer was right, and Selene closed her eyes and felt.

The world around her melted into darkness.

She, or the dreaming part of herself, lifted away from her spot on the floor. Beside her, Moondancer’s own lilac-colored dream-shape lifted as well. Focusing was difficult—her perception of the dream world was unsteady and unstable at best while her body remained awake. The whole castle was suffused with energy and activity, and the momentum, the concreteness of the waking world and its inhabitants turned the dreamscape into hazy, blue-filtered slush.

Earlier, she remembered, the dreamscape had been sedate, a placid lake, ripples from activities like rocks skipping across its surface. Now the whole plane was shuddering with apprehension, tension radiating out from the central wing of the castle She could barely see and barely move. And yet…

There. She found it, or found what she was sure must have been it. Another dreaming presence, another dreamwalker, in the distance. Selene looked down at herself, the unsteady, wavering teal of her own dream-shape, and then beside, to Moondancer, whose form was even more tenuous, more a lilac suggestion of a pony than a pony itself—and then she looked back to the other, whose presence loomed large over the castle, but whose shape—even from afar—was clear, hard, bright blue lines and solid shapes, solid and real enough to be seen through the very fabric of the dream. Selene suddenly felt very small as she knew, with uncomfortable clarity, that the dreamer was watching her as well.

It was an alicorn, a nebulous mass of stars, whose very form embodied night, constrained and shaped by a radiant blue corona the same shade as Selene’s. It seemed entirely unperturbed by the turbulence of consciousness radiating outward from the Council’s meeting hall, where her mother and her sister sat in attendance.

It hung, suspended, on massive, outstretched wings, then dove for the source of the turbulence.

Selene scrambled her way back into her body, opened her eyes and shuddered. Moondancer had already returned, and was holding a hoof to her throat as though she were struggling to breathe.

“I don’t…” the unicorn gasped. “What—who was that?”

“I don’t know,” Selene said. “But all of the nobles in Canterlot are gathered in that room. We have to go check!”

Moondancer’s eyes were huge behind her lenses, and in them Selene could see panic. “But—milday, I—there’s no way we can…”

“We have to try!” Selene stood. “Even if you don’t come, I have to get closer—I have to see what happened. It… It looked at me. It saw me, like it wanted to make sure I was watching, and then…”

She shook her head and bolted for the door. Moondancer let out a strangled cry from behind. Selene burst out into the hallway, skidding slightly on the carpet as she turned to her right, rushing forward as fast as her little legs could take her. She could hear Moondancer behind; the unicorn had longer legs, but she was no athlete, and in her desperation Selene could not think to slow down for her. She’d just have to catch up on her own.

She’d lived in the castle her whole life, and its layout was burned into her memory. She didn’t think about it as she ran. Her mind’s eye was consumed by the image of the pony-shaped thing. It had had no eyes, but she had felt, more certainly than she remembered feeling anything, that it had been looking straight at her. Taunting her. Challenging her.

Well, an apprentice dreamwalker she may have been, but Selene was not going to back down from that challenge.

What did give her pause, in a rather more concrete fashion, was the wall of force projected by the castle guards. She was pulled out of her introspection on contact, the wall like a great semi-transparent pillow. She pushed against it and it contorted, a shimmering yellow-and-orange mix from two different coronas, but did not yield. Slowly, inexorably, it pushed her back, and she sat on her rump with a little oof.

On the other side of the wall, both guards were staring at her. The blue-and-silver uniform they wore was enchanted to protect their identities, and they appeared, physically, to both be stark-white unicorn stallions. Only the colors of their coronas betrayed them; she knew the one on the left to be Saturnine, and the one on the right Billy Club.

Saturnine’s gaze was half-lidded, but she—under the glamour, the unicorn was a mare—bore an understanding smile. It was Billy Club who spoke first, his usual brusque attitude making him more vocal than his partner.

“Lady Selene,” he said sharply. “What is the meaning of this?”

“No running in the castle halls,” Saturnine said, still smiling a lazy sort of smile.

“You have an image to maintain,” Billy Club snapped. “And rushing about like a lunatic isn’t doing you, or your family, any favors.”

Selene sat up, rubbing briefly at her nose. “But—”

“Today is a day to celebrate, though,” said Saturnine with a languid sort of cheerfulness. “War’s over, I hear. They’ll be partying in the streets by sundown.”

“But here, in the castle,” insisted Billy Club, lightly stamping a forehoof, “we’re to maintain some measure of decorum. More importantly, your lady mother left explicit instructions that you’re not to be allowed into the central wing.”

“Isn’t it time for your lesson?” asked Saturnine. “I remember seeing the little tutor mare off. What was her name?”

There was a huffing behind her, and Selene turned to see Moondancer staggering up, breathing hard. One of her history books floated alongside, apparently forgotten, dragged along in the unicorn’s desperation to catch up with her charge. She flopped, somewhat ungracefully, onto the carpet beside Selene.

“Moondancer.” Billy Club brought a hoof to his face. “Of all days, can you not keep Lady Selene under control for this day?”

She stood up and stomped a hoof. “Listen to me! The Council chambers—”

“Are perfectly secure,” Saturnine said, gently overpowering the little alicorn’s voice. “Trust me. We’ve got guards on every corner and at least four walkers in the chambers too.”

“We know how to do our job,” the other guard said, huffing and sticking out his chest.

“Are you sure you didn’t fall asleep in history class and have a little nightmare?” Saturnine teased gently. “Not that I mean to imply Miss Moondancer’s classes are boring…”

The unicorn beside Selene grunted breathlessly, still working to catch her breath.

“This is important!” Selene said, though it came across more wheedling and desperate than she’d intended.

“Not as important as a formal end to a war,” said Billy Club firmly. “I’ll not hear another word on it.”

The wall of force slowly moved toward her, and she stepped back to avoid being pushed. Moondancer wasn’t so lucky; her face pressed into the wall and she was shoved back with another breathless grumble.

“With all due respect, please go back to your room, milady. Your mother will come for you when she needs you.”

“They’re in danger!”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” said Saturnine slowly. “Thank you for letting us know, Lady Selene. Please go back to your room.”

The wall stopped moving. The guards were several feet away now, and Moondancer had curled into a crumpled heap, forehooves raised to shield herself from the spell’s gentle but unrelenting force. Selene stared, heart racing. Billy Club had stopped looking at her, returning to his at-ease post and staring across at Saturnine. The mare’s gentle smile had faded, but her half-lidded eyes were still calmly focused on Selene.

The little alicorn grit her teeth and stomped, but turned with a huff and began walking away. When she didn’t hear Moondancer follow, she looked over her shoulder and wrapped the unresisting unicorn in a shell of telekinesis, lifting her and carrying her and her history tome along for the ride.

After rounding a corner, she stopped and set the mare down. The book thudded to the floor beside her. Moondancer finally pushed her way to her hooves, straightening her glasses and shaking her head.

“Please don’t run off like that,” she said, voice still slightly hoarse. “I’m not… you know I can’t keep up with you.”

Selene was barely listening. She turned back in the direction of the central wing, a scowl on her face.

“Lady Selene,” Moondancer tried, “you heard what they said. They’ve even got fully-trained somnomancers in the room. If anything had actually gone wrong, they would know.” When this prompted no response, she put a hoof on Selene’s shoulder. “Milady, please.”

Selene rolled her shoulder, looking back at Moondancer. “This is serious.”

“The best somnomancer in the land is in that room,” said Moondancer, some of her propriety giving way to a stubborn indignance. “And nopony else has said a word. Maybe they’re right. Maybe you were just imagining, and you pulled me into your world. You’re better-trained than I am, but you’re still just an apprentice…”

“I have to get in there,” Selene said, adamant. “I have to. I know what I saw, what I felt. I know it was real.”

“As real as anything can be in a field of magic that revolves entirely around turning the subconscious world into audiovisual forms incarnating extensive metaphor and symbolism,” said Moondancer, voice slightly flat.

“Yes!”

Moondancer shook her head. “Even if you were right, the guards won’t let us in,” she said, and Selene savored the small victory of the mare including herself. “And there’s too much conscious static for us to project ourselves that far while we’re awake. Unless you feel like going back to your room for an afternoon nap?”

“There’s no time for that,” Selene snapped. Her eyes slipped to the side, to the tome that lay, heretofore forgotten, on the floor beside the librarian.

Moondancer’s eyes followed. She smiled, a little relieved. “Well, we could always go back to studying—”

“I need you to hit me,” said Selene. Moondancer stopped and looked up.

“You need me to what?”

“There’s no time for a nap, and you’re no good at artificially inducing sleep. All I need is to be unconscious. Hit me.”

The unicorn stared, uncomprehending. “I can’t do that. You’re a noble and I’m a lucky commoner. They’ll throw me out on my flank if I assault you—”

“They’ll throw the book at you, right?” Selene asked, nudging the tome. “Well, I’ve been misbehaving enough today, too. Throw the book at me.”

Behind her glasses, Moondancer’s eyes narrowed. “I am not going to risk damaging either a book or one of the Lord’s daughters,” she hissed.

They glared at each other for a moment. It was Selene who yielded first, deflating slightly and looking away, cheeks burning.

Moondancer sounded relieved when she spoke. “There. Okay. Good. Now let’s just go back and let the qualified professionals do their job. Okay?”

Selene heard the gentle twinkle of Moondancer’s magic grabbing the tome. She smiled slightly. “Hey, Moony?”

This time the unicorn’s voice had an edge of suspicion. “You never call me that when you mean well.”

“You know that copy of Stygian’s Stigmas you lost last summer?” Selene could practically hear Moondancer’s eyes narrow again. “Lulamoon took it when you weren’t looking. Remember? You had to step away when Mother wanted to talk to you…” She looked up, smiling. Moondancer’s expression had shifted to one of sudden interest.

“...Where is it?” the librarian hissed.

“Oh, it’s gone,” Selene said. “You know how Lulamoon gets once she’s bored of something. It ends up in the pile. For all I know, it could be in the trash. It’s almost certainly long gone now.”

The unicorn was seething. “You knew this? You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“Knew?” Selene widened her smile. “I helped her do it.”

There was a woosh, and a flash of light as something struck her very hard in the head. She closed her eyes, focused through the pain, and—

Her body collapsed away from her, crumpling to the floor. Her projection remained where she had been standing. Now, deprived of the distractions of consciousness, it was the dream world that seemed all the more real, a solid, washed out approximation of the castle forming around her, shaped by the collective unconscious of all the ponies who lived here.

Moondancer, less a pony now and more a blur of movement in the placidity of the dream, gasped and dropped the book, leaning down to the little alicorn’s unconscious form. Selene winced, knowing she would feel the blow when she woke—but she had her chance now, and she had to take it.

“You did this on purpose,” she heard Moondancer snap, her voice faint and distant but heavy with concern. “You stupid filly… Enjoy the lump on your head...”

Selene was already moving away. She trotted, or her projection trotted, for the sake of familiarity, but the rules of the real world held little sway for a dreamwalker. She went around the corner again, past the blurred-out forms of Saturnine and Billy Club, who paid her invisible projection no mind, and headed further in.

The great doors of the main audience hall loomed larger than life in the dream plane, and she was, at least, beholden to the solid structure of the quasi-real castle. Behind it, there was the buzz of conscious activity. It made the whole place seem to glow and shimmer. She could not enter through the main door, lest the dreamwalkers notice her. But, she knew, there was a servant’s entrance off to the side. That would be covered, too, she knew, but if she was careful, there was always a chance…

She ducked through the blurry idea of another awake guard, slipping into a side door and heading for an aperture covered by curtains. As she approached, she could hear the voices emanating from the waking world, including the distinct raspy tones of Dame Chroma. From here, she couldn’t make out the words. But if she could just get closer…

Something grabbed her. The shock caused her form to briefly destabilize, and she knew that if she was actually able to wake up, she’d have gone right back to her body then and there. But she was still out cold, and her form solidified again as a large, ice-cold hoof landed on her shoulder and spun her about.

The nebulous pony stood above her, and Selene stared. Up close, she could see individual stars and nebulae, a deeply, almost intimately detailed display of a night sky she had never seen before.

Had she? Something deep inside her screamed, and she squinted, trying to remember as she attempted to pull away. The creature held her fast, lowering its muzzle. Even with no eyes—indeed, with no face to speak of—she felt the immense pressure of its gaze.

Its face moved. It had no mouth, but in the dream world, such things meant little.

Wake up, it said.

And like a bubble bursting, Luna emerged. She did not change in any way; her form remained small. But she remembered who she was; the identity of Selene fell away like she was… well, like she was waking from a dream. She looked up at the dream creature with sudden, relieved, familiarity.

“Tantabus?” she asked.

The Tantabus did not let her go, but it nodded. Luna frowned.

“What is going on?”

You are awake from Your dream, said the Tantabus. But We cannot give You more than this. Others are watching, though they cannot see so clearly as We can. This shape, this role. They have been given to You. Indeed, You may forget Yourself again when Your eyes open. But here and now, You see clearly.

“I don’t understand,” Luna said. “Where is Celestia? What is going on?”

Removed as You are from Your kingdom, You are yet Queen of Dreams. But there is Another Who would steal Your throne. If You would see Canterlot restored and Your Sister returned to Her throne, pain awaits You.

“I shaped you,” Luna snapped. “You are mine—you belong to me. Speak plainly.”

Find the Tree, said the Tantabus, voice like a whisper on the edge of hearing. Find the Light that Shines in the Dark. We will come to You when We can. But We are being hunted. She is close. Sleep again. Dream again. She cannot see You behind Your mask.

The Tantabus let her go, and its form destabilized, fading to nothing. The nebulae vanished into the shadows of the dream world. Selene watched, and had the very disconcerting feeling that she was forgetting something.

Chroma was still speaking. Selene gathered herself and turned, trying to duck under the curtain.

A hoof grabbed her by the neck. She gasped and looked up into the eyes of a dreamwalking pony, a bright orange shape with a very obvious scowl.

“Milady,” said the pony. “By Lady Trine’s orders, you are not allowed in.”

One spectral hoof pressed against Selene's forehead. She felt the surge of magic as she stared into his eyes.

“Oh, bother,” she said, and the world went dark.

Author's Note

I'm alive!

Quarantine aside, I've had a lot on my plate, so it's nice to finally be able to sit down and write.

Now that I've overcome the apparently monumental task of getting the three main characters introduced... now we can begin.

For purposes of honoring contributions, Trine belongs to Apolline Allura, and was originally created for our collaborative work The Phoenix in Blue, which turned into something of a flop. While that work never really went anywhere, both of us are enamored of Trine as a character, and I have included her in this story with Allura's permission.