A guard stood to either side of the giant, overbearing double doors leading to Princess Celestia’s chambers. Their sharp eyes pierced the growing darkness of the hall with magically enhanced vision; their armour glimmering in the faint light of dusk. Normally, the guards were a mere formality, and no more important than the banners and statues lining the halls. The doors were usually defence enough: too heavy for any but the strongest ponies to open, and grand enough to intimidate any but the boldest. This night, however, was not a normal night.
A shape, darker than the rest of the shadows, swept toward the doors. As it approached, the silhouette of a silver crown became defined upon its head. The guards lowered themselves in deference as Luna swept past, throwing the great doors wide. She hissed slightly as light poured into the hall. In contrast to the rest of the castle—whose design was almost uniformly white—Celestia’s chambers were dominated by warm, intimate colours. The soft flickering of a fireplace cast subtle, dancing shadows across the floor and walls. Bookcases covered most of the available wall space, save for a single large desk and a glass door to the balcony. Luna crossed the threshold, and the doors glided closed behind her.
“I take it you have already heard of today’s incident, sister.”
Celestia lay in front of the fireplace, her white coat almost out of place in a room so filled with colour. Her gaze was fixed on several scrolls which lay unrolled before her. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
“Of course you are fine,” Luna replied as she walked toward her sister, stepping over the golden shoes strewn across the floor. “That was not my concern.” She stopped to stand next to Celestia. “My concern is how an earth pony managed to get so far as your antechamber before being apprehended. Or perhaps even more so that any pony would dare!”
Celestia sighed, and turned her gaze from the paperwork before her to face Luna. “Technology has come a long way in a thousand years, Luna. Earth ponies are no less of a threat to security than unicorns now.”
Luna blinked, then narrowed her eyes.
“He wasn’t the first, was he?”
Celestia snorted. “Of course he wasn’t. You remember the occasional break-in at Castle Everfree. Or Fullcrop before that.”
“Don’t try to play the politician with me,” said Luna. “You know my meaning. You are saying that there are still attempts on your life? In this era?”
Celestia stood, the joints of her long legs popping audibly, and walked onto the balcony attached to the room. The sun had set several hours ago, and the moon was young in the sky. Celestia stared out over Canterlot, its nightlife beginning to light the city anew. Luna walked up beside her. Their shared breaths were barely visible in the cool night air.
“He must have had reason to want you dead, Celestia,” Luna said without taking her eyes from the city below. “Who could possibly stand to gain from your death?”
“I don’t know.” Celestia responded. “I could speculate, I suppose. An enemy of Equestria? A subversive political group? There have been a few of those over the past century.”
Luna turned, her eyes wide. “How can you speak so flippantly? Our subjects wish you dead!”
Celestia continued to gaze over the city, but the corners of her lips twitched upward into a faint smile.
“Don’t worry, Luna,” Celestia turned. “If our ponies ever truly want us gone, we won’t need to worry about assassins.”
Taking a few steps back, Luna regarded her sister suspiciously, then grimaced. “Ugh, you’ve developed quite a flair for the dramatic over the last thousand years. Could you speak plainly?”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, her smile stretching into a mirthful grin. “Really, Luna? You, Princess of the Night, Mistress of Dreams, Lady of Prophesy, are accusing me of being arbitrarily enigmatic?”
The Lady of Prophesy blinked.
“Come on Luna, admit it; half of your titles never even meant anything. What was the one… Umbra’s Light?”
“That was a just a pen na—”
“It’s an oxymoron, Luna. It has no meaning. You just thought it sounded mysterious.”
Luna opened her mouth to respond, but froze, her brows furrowing. “Don’t change the subject.”
Celestia’s grin melted.
“Surely you agree that I am owed some explanation,” Luna prodded. Celestia stepped back to regard her sister, her eyes searching for something in Luna’s. After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision. She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“I… I didn’t need you.”
She lifted her head, meeting Luna’s gaze. Celestia’s face was a mask. A fragile, transparent mask.
“You were gone, and… everything was fine. At first I thought that I had just gotten used to covering for you in the days before your exile. I thought that for quite a while.”
Luna’s face was caught between several emotions, none of them pleasant. She took a step backward; away from her sister.
“Then… Cadance. She was so excited to be a Princess!” The mask broke into a melancholy smile. “She was young. Hardly more than a teenager. She was begging for responsibility, for royal duties of her own, and I offered, as a joke, to give her mine. She accepted.”
The moon rose, gracefully as ever, as the last of the sun’s rays were finally extinguished. Celestia’s white coat seemed almost grey as the shadows around her solidified. The two sisters took a moment to gaze at their charges.
“I expected the complaints to come in immediately,” Celestia resumed. “I imagined them in court after an hour, and in the press after a day. There were none.”
Cool moonlight and warm lantern light combined in the streets of Canterlot, washing everything in weightless white. From afar, it gave the city a surreal look, like a painting. Or a dream. The balcony remained in shadow, untouched by either source.
“I was impressed. I was proud. I knew that Cadance would make an incredible ruler one day.”
Luna’s night danced around her, the shadows swelling and trailing. She trembled slightly, though the air still held much of the warmth of the day.
“She came to me in a panic on day three. She had barely managed to work her way through half of my schedule. For the first day.”
Celestia centred her gaze on the city beneath, overshadowing the castle above.
“No one noticed,” Luna’s voice was hesitant. “No one…”
“No one cared. I made no difference,” Celestia finished. “We are old, Luna. But so is Equestria. Maybe… maybe it has outgrown us.”
Silence filled the air between them. The air was cooling rapidly as the last of the sky’s blue faded. Neither sun nor moon could compare to the now bright and vibrant colors radiating from Canterlot itself. Buildings, built by ponies, maintained by ponies. For ponies. All its doorways, hallways, and other ways built for ponies. Not alicorns.
“How long do you think we have, sister?” Luna’s voice was strangely serene.
“Years, probably,” Celestia responded. “Don’t read too much into what happened today. A single assassin does not a majority make. Our ponies still want us.”
Luna faced the princess beside her.
“Do they need us, though?”
Celestia turned, in kind, before answering,
“I don’t think they ever did.”
