'Tis Better to be Vile

The halls of the Everfree Castle had lost the motionless, frigid chill of so many years’ neglect; a permeating, indomitable warmth filled each corridor and chamber, moving in currents that waved and shimmied through every doorway and niche. It was as though the castle had forgotten its state of abandonment and had sprung to life, eagerly spectating the unicorn that now darted this way and that, desperately fleeing her pursuer.

Twilight skidded to a halt as she bolted out of the passageway, realising that she had somehow come back into the throneroom. A smashed stained-glass window revealed the full moon, bearing down on the scene and illuminating the floor like a searchlight, while shadows gathered in the rafters above. She glanced all around her, anxiously strafing as she turned to keep every angle covered. Her lungs ached, her legs were burning and her coat radiated heat - and still…

“Run,” came the whisper in her ear.

With a yelp, Twilight broke back into a gallop as the walls echoed with a low cackle. Running wasn’t helping - no matter where she went, just over her shoulder, on her peripheral vision, there would always be something - a shadow whipping out of view, or an indistinct blur that lingered for just a moment. She needed a plan.

As long as she stayed in the larger halls, she could at least avoid being forced down a single path, but her breaths were already coming in quick and shallow; she couldn’t keep running forever. She latched onto a single place: the chamber containing the Elements of Harmony. It made no sense, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it, but it was a part of the castle she at least knew.

Before long, she was at the base of the spiral staircase that led up to the oratory-cum-secondary-throneroom. She paused for just a moment, and slumped against the wall as her legs nearly gave out, gasping for air. She lingered, trying not to think about the soreness in her limbs, ears pricked up in search of any sound. For once, there was nothing; even the low, near-inaudible wail of the air itself had ceased. Allowing herself a sigh of relief, Twilight straightened herself and looked around… to find that her view of the passage behind her was completely shrouded.

A wall of smoke filled the corridor, seemingly swallowing whatever light it found. At its centre it was an impossibly-deep black, while the tendrils that hung around the edges painted the stone in shades of violet. It crept forward, undulating as though sentient and groping each surface for its target, and its intent was clear; already, a familiar, sickly-sweet scent was filling Twilight’s nostrils. She turned tail and raced up the stairs.

She didn’t let herself think about how long she was running for - tried to ignore the screaming of her core as she focused solely on putting one hoof in front of the other as fast as she could. Once, she slipped on a loose step and collapsed onto the rough stone, and had barely enough time to right herself, glance behind and see that the sea of mist was just seconds behind her. After what could have been a minute or an eternity, the claustrophobic staircase gave way to that familiar hall, and Twilight allowed herself to fall once again to her knees.

It was only then that she realised how foolish she had been. The rising miasma had completely blocked her escape, and it wouldn’t be long before it covered this floor, too. The only higher ground was the plinth on which the throne stood; something Nightmare Moon would surely have allowed for. Groaning, Twilight stood and braved to look at the platform. Sure enough, the throne was occupied… but-

“Hurry, Twilight!”

“Princess Celestia!?”

Twilight limped to her mentor and finally collapsed into the embrace of her wings, subconsciously latching herself onto one foreleg as though it were a liferaft in a storm. Before she knew it, her breaths had become ragged, exhausted wails, calmed only by the gentle shushing of the alicorn above her. Celestia hugged Twilight firmly, rocking her slightly, never relinquishing that reassuring hold until her student’s cries had become quiet sniffles.

“It’s okay.”

“Princess… is it really you?”

“It’s me, Twilight. It’s really me.”

“H… how?”

The sound of creaking, cracking rock filled the room. Twilight clung to her anchor as she watched the aetherial flood burst from the stairway and begin to engulf the chamber. Panic welled up inside her as all around became a sea of darkness, but though it surrounded the plinth, the miasma could not spill onto it; their island stood just above the waves.

A wan smile spread over Celestia’s face. “We have a shared point of communication, do we not? With an operator in place, it isn’t difficult for one dreamer’s actions to be mirrored in another’s dream.”

Sure enough, Twilight visibly relaxed at the lecture. “It’s all going through Luna,” she mumbled. “You’re not really there... I’m just seeing her recreation of you.”

“Likewise,” Celestia confirmed. “But - from my end, at least - it is quite convincing.”

“It’s an interpretation,” Twilight countered. “You can’t duplicate a thought perfectly… it’s going through a lens: the way she sees your actions.”

A sheen passed over the alicorn’s eyes - something that could almost have been remorse. “My sister knows me better than most, Twilight; and in the end, we’re always looking through a lens. We’re all judged by the perspectives of those who see us.”

Her breathing having stabilised, Twilight backed away from Celestia and looked at her, scrutinising her every feature while the princess sat patiently. Sure enough, there was no one detail out of place - each facet was exactly as Twilight had always known her teacher. And yet, the entire image was somehow wrong; repetitious, like a symphony whose trumpets had long since stopped sending a thrill down the spine of its audience.

“She looks at me like that, sometimes.” Celestia’s voice snapped Twilight out of her reverie. “I’ve always wondered what she saw.”

Twilight cast her gaze to the floor as she formulated a response. The question hadn’t been asked outright, but she could almost hear the pleading edge in its speaking.

“She’s known you for such a long time,” she thought aloud. “No matter what, you’re always there… and you never change.”

The look on Celestia’s face sent Twilight’s stomach plunging; her mentor’s distress, perfectly replicated on puppet-strings. Already, Twilight wished she could take those words back.

“It’s what I do, Twilight,” Celestia said at last. “It’s what I’ve always done.”

“It started such a long time ago; when my sister and I fought against Discord. You couldn’t possibly know how long it went on for - days and nights would pass as you blinked, at his whim - but it drained the world like nothing else had. Nothing was sacred. Wherever we went, ponies would look at each other like they were seeing ghosts. You couldn’t ever settle, knowing that whatever you took comfort in - your friends, your family, your home - could be gone by the time you turned your head back.

“When we used the Elements of Harmony, it changed everything. There was hope again; but no-one would dare to take the first step towards rebuilding. They’d almost forgotten what life used to be like. So I made my decision: I became a fixed point; something they could build off. I asked my sister to join me, and she did. We promised every single one of them, that no matter what, we would be there. We became the rulers of Equestria, just by saying that we would rule... and it made them happy. Life began again.

“But I had to change myself. I had to be the embodiment of what was right - what was just. Ponies would compare their every action by the way I held myself, because they had no-one else to look to. I could never be seen to fail or falter, because if I did, their trust would be shattered. I could never love, never cry, never rage. And I did it; I did it because I had to. Because no-one else could.

“But Luna… she and I did everything together in those days. We were always different, but it never mattered; whenever there was an enemy, or a struggle, we’d each find our own ways to the solution, and we’d never let the other fall. But when peace came, and I chose to stand firm for so long, I went down a road she couldn’t possibly follow. She was so young… no, she was youth itself, Twilight. Always earnest, and always changing. And just like that, I cast her aside. When she couldn’t stand alongside what I had become, I let her fall into the shadow; and I couldn’t dare to join her there, because everyone else needed me to stand in the light.

“She suffered terribly for what I did - but when I banished her, there wasn’t a soul in Equestria that didn’t suffer. Even if they didn’t know it - to them, she was just the weak ruler; the one who faltered. But I failed her, and I failed them; all because I was so terrified of failing.

“And it didn’t stop there, either. I thought I needed to be a rock more than ever; but I couldn’t abandon her. I founded the capital, Canterlot, built my new home, and for one thousand years I cultivated the best heroes I could. I made the academy, the nobility, the royal guard, and I raised the ponies in them to the highest ranks of office. I created a breeding ground for champions; ponies that could take the place I held so long ago while I sat around and aged. Warriors, to take my place on the battlefield.”

By the time she had finished, Celestia looked utterly broken. In that minute, a thousand years of strain had worn away at that perfect mask before Twilight’s eyes; but there was nothing she could do. She sat, rooted, unsure even of what her own expression said. Disbelief, empathy, anger - they all came to her, but none could take hold.

“Twilight…” Celestia breathed, “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how desperate I was, when I saw you, and realised I might yet save my sister. I guided you at every turn, molded you into what you are now… but I never asked your permission. I never asked what you wanted in life before I made all the decisions for you.”

The alicorn finished, head hung low in shame, awaiting her sentence. Countless reassurances and just as many questions came to Twilight - but she uttered none of them. She asked the only question she could.

“Do you think you were wrong?”

Celestia didn’t move. Twilight could understand - she could barely process the question herself. But at the same time - somehow - she didn’t need to.

“I don’t know how things might have been different,” she continued, “but I don’t regret it. I’m happy to be where I am now, honestly. But, this -” Twilight gestured to the scene around her; “- I just don’t know what to do.”

Celestia’s gaze was still set on her shoes. Twilight barely heard her whisper, “It’s as I feared.” Feebly, she raised her eyes to meet the unicorn’s. “I can be a fixed point, Twilight, for as long as it takes. I don’t know how, but I’ve always been able to. But if that’s your idol - if that’s what you strive to be in life - I worry that you’ll go down the same path as those before you. My sister, and…” She trailed off.

Twilight blinked. “...And? There was another?”

Celestia swallowed and nodded. “I’ll tell you about her someday. I promise. But for now… I need to make sure I don’t repeat my mistake yet again.”

“So, all of this was…?”

“My sister and I are day and night. If there was anyone who could bring you towards the balance - show you the joys of life that I could not - it was her. You’re a grown mare, Twilight; but you’ve never stopped being my student.”

“Y- you’re not saying…!”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But… I think it might do you some good to have a different instructor for a while.”

Twilight observed the plane of smoke around them. The trails of vapour had by now formed waves that lapped against the edges of the plinth, conjured by an impossible tide.

“It’s your choice, of course. But this time, I want to know that it was really yours.”

She laid down at the water’s edge, and tentatively lowered a hoof. The gas seemed to form a solid tendril that set her skin shivering as it stroked her frog. Taking a deep breath, Twilight drew back and turned to Celestia.

“And what about you?” She asked. “Equestria is at peace now. Discord’s gone, Luna’s back… you don’t have to be a rock anymore.”

Celestia’s smile was as honest as Twilight had ever seen on the alicorn’s features. “I’m an old mare, Twilight. I’ve tried to change ever since you brought my sister back to me - but it’ll be a while before I can learn any new tricks.”

Nodding, Twilight turned her back once more, letting the stillness wash over her; not even thinking about the choice that lay before her. All the time, Celestia waited; understanding, if not knowing, what was going through her student’s mind.

Finally, Twilight broke the silence. “I feel better,” she said, almost to herself. “Somehow, I feel better about all of this. Like it’s not quite so wrong anymore.” She chuckled nervously. “It’s just… not quite how it happens in the stories, is it?” The two of them managed a laugh at that, but silence soon took hold again. Twilight turned back to look at the smog, and slowly began to walk forwards.

“I think I’m ready now.”

“Twilight…” Celestia’s voice stopped her just a few steps from the edge. “I may not be able to guide you down this new path. But, one day, I’d be honoured if you would walk it with me.”

The implications of that sentence took a while to set in. Slowly, Twilight’s eyes widened, just as Celestia averted her own.

“I’m sorry; I sh-”

“I’d like that.”

Celestia dared to look at her pupil, and found there a smile that set her legs quivering.

“Well, then. I’ll see you soon, my fai-” Celestia caught herself at the last moment. “...My friend.” And with that, the image of the alicorn distorted and faded, leaving the unicorn alone.

The tide waited patiently, content to flow inconsequentially in near-silence. For a while, Twilight studied the surreal landscape before her. Then she took a breath, and - with an air of tranquility that she had not felt in days - descended the stairs and walked into the mire.