Before She Heard of Our Homes
Dear Princess Celestia,
Hello, Celestia. How has it been since my last letter? I hope it has been going well, because I need to... well, I am writing to you to ask if you could come to my castle to discuss some news that you need to witness yourself. May I ask of swift--
Oh, screw it.
Upon receiving my letter, meet me at my castle. This is extremely important and needs to be handled with care. Stand outside the castle's gates and ask for the guard to contact me. Do not lose your composure. This will keep others from thinking something worrisome has happened.
I hope you understand.
From your student forevermore,
Twilight Sparkle.
I sent that letter to her yesterday. I did not send it through a spell, but rather through the mail so I did not intrude on her and make her drop everything she had at the time just so she can teleport to my station.There was no need for sudden immediacy, but rather for a different type of immediacy, one that would not stir the presses and awaken ponies to our own agendas. I do not want them to think of this as a political meeting--none of that will happen with this route. If a letter is sent to her through mail asking for immediacy, then she will come by herself and herself alone. There would be no guard or chariot. It would like a friendly visit. Not to mention that she knows that letters by mail need legitimacy, so coming by herself, by her own will and curiosity, will forge the legitimacy, baring truth to my letter.
That is the logic and I will stand by it without end. I need her to see this, but I do not need her to bring the attentions of the others: ponies, the Elements in particular--the girls... I do not want them to be burdened by a technology of this kind--they shall never know of this meeting. Only her and I--maybe some guards will speak of it--and nothing more.
As I sit here wandering in my own thoughts, a knock renders upon my door.
"Princess!"
The voice is that of Merry Weather, the royal messenger of my guard.
"Yes, Merry Weather?"
Her voice seems distressed. It trembles with fury.
"P-Princess Celestia has requested for your audience!"
I hear her reflexive bow through the door--atoms bouncing all around--and a whimper accompanying it.
"Thank you, Merry Weather."
My response sends that whimper into the gust of wind. A sigh gently glides over the landscape, tickling the hairs on my spine with calming splendor.
"You're welcome, Twilight Sparkle."
I told her years ago, after she was of a different status, where her skills of weaponry and communication peaked, that she was to be my secondary--someone who still was below me but near my status. I treat her like I treat my friends, without titles. She only says mine to stay formal, to recognize her place as a guard, but she knows to drop the pretense and keep the present; her training as a messenger prompts her to do so.
"May I tell her to walk with me or send her up freely, Twilight?"
A pause. I can sense her gentle expression waning, still nervous about the situation. Only guards hide their fear behind masks of strength; it keeps morale in tact.
"Send her up freely. She was given four legs for a reason, right?"
Humor. A tactic of ancient technique, but it works to my desire as I hear her tremble with a chronic fit of giggles.
"Twilight, never change."
Hooves begin to disembark behind the metal door, dancing fervently down the steps of my tower in the sky.
"I will not change..."
My murmuring dances too. Willful words drop faint in the gusts of today.
It will take her five minutes to properly ascend those stairs. They are longest obstacle ever to be designed. Yes, with how minuscule the steps seemed in status, every single step bore energy. With each step, anyone with or without magic would be dealing with fatigue, no matter how built they were. It was a mental and physical fatigue that would wrap around their bodies and constrict their lungs with an iron grip. Its aura was of a grey constant that bore anger within its construction. It was made by Star Swirl himself, a spell designed to be embedded in any common structure. The spell was used in war many years ago, but now its only purpose is to show identity to those who are in the tower. It gives me enough time to escape if the identity is foreign, and enough time to measure its speed with how fast the magic is being suppressed and how much magic remained, if the identity contained magic at all, in the caster's disposal. If there was no magic in the identity, then it would still be defined by their being, but not by their magical makeup.
Celestia's magic was simple to decode for me now. Her aura felt warm to me. It was of a different sensation, though. Warmth, to a poet's hoof, is a sign of love. It does not matter what love the poet wishes: agape, phileo, storge, or eros, but all that matters is that the poet sees the love contained there being grasped with intensity. The grasp is a sign of meaning. It grips things tightly at some moments, a sign of eros, which a poet desires in every poem he or she writes, while the others, storge, the parental love, seeks refuge in a mid-level grasp. Phileo is warmth that is still intense, but it never seems to reach eros. It stays near equilibrium, where agape stays at large.
My love for Celestia is storge. She is my guardian, and I am hers.
Another knock stirs the metallic essence. It trembles with fury.
"Twilight, my student, are you in here?"
I close my eyes and smile. Time passes so fast when you're in love.
"Yes, Celestia. You may enter."
Clinking of gold plated hooves pitter-patter at my step. The door swings open.
"Thank you for having me."
Her politeness emanates from her body, but a twinge, which resides in her chest, is visible to my eyes. It worries me so.
"No, thank you for responding to my letter with quick haste."
She smiles. The twinge disappears. All that is left is a ruff of white fluff, a sign of departing stress.
"I see you've upgraded the royal chambers..."
A comment that seems necessary for her sanity, yet I appreciate it all the while. Apprehension is common for foreign situations.
"Yes, I have. They repainted the room and replaced those dainty rotting wood poles holding my bed with gold steel rods."
My eyes are upon her after my comment. Her gaze is unsettling, but it still holds balance. I wonder if she is battling her own thoughts? I must quell those immediately.
"Celestia, you must not be weary of--"
"I am weary for another reason, Twilight."
Her sudden intrusions holds me at pause.
"Let me explain myself, my student. Upon receiving your letter, I was filled with worry. After all, your letters as of late have been problematic to me: diplomatic disagreement up in the Frozen North, the signs of a future famine here in Ponyville, and even the waning measure of your guard? Why would I not be weary? But as I opened it, I could not believe my eyes. My weariness intensified, and I immediately rushed out of day court in a hidden panic. My voice held its toll to the guards, but to my dear sister..." The gulp that she held in her throat echoed in the room. "She knew of my pain and told me to run to you. So I did. I didn't even think twice." Her eyes wavered in the light.
"Was it because of the vagueness in the letter that stirred these... emotions?"
She nods and sighs tediously. "You must be careful next time, my student. An old aching heart cannot take such stress."
I approach her and grasp her tightly to my chest. "I'm sorry, Celestia."
She returns the hug. "I know."
I nuzzle her cheek. "Do you want to stay like this for a few moments?"
"Yes," she replies. "Yes..."
A nuzzle returned in kind. Our hooves land on the bed. It rocks graciously. We don't lay together though, that is for lovers. We lay separate, as if a wall was formed between us. She looks out the window, and I look at my heavy chiffarobe, which stares back at me with its gold plated endings and oak wood construction.
"May we return to the matter at hoof, Celestia?"
A few moments pass. I'm beginning to see the lining in the wood, how it curves at times and straightens at others. It's beautiful, really, but not what I am wanting to do. I--
"Yes, Twilight."
Direct address, she must be ready to break the wall.
We turn to face each other. A smile is on her face now. The ruff of fluff on her chest is gone. All that's left is happiness, an intense warmth that surges through the ones we love, but not intense enough as lovers. It is just enough for me to feel like the sun is bearing down on me.
That's Celestia, alright.
"I... found this piece of technology last night."
"Technology?" Celestia's brow raises high as the word is muttered from her mouth.
"Yes. It came from the portal connection that I had recently created."
"Ah... right. The project."
The project: to design a gateway to another world and research how much energy it must take for a pony to cast it. Then, once comfortable with the spell, the gateway must be investigated. So far, I have come to the conclusion that dimension traveling is not capable for most of our kind. It is only capable for alicorns with tremendous strength, and for rare cases of unicorns whose magical strength surpasses normal code.
Sunset Shimmer was one of those unicorns. I could not phase her out of the equation. She was mighty powerful indeed. Without her existence, I would not be for certain if ponies would ever wield the power to make connections to another realm. But with her spell embedded in the mirror, it only made sense that unicorns had to transfer the energy through another plain of existence. This one just so happened to reflect our language, personalities, and values. The rest were different. Very different.
Unlike unicorns, we alicorns can cast them at will with practice. There does not need to be a symbol to reflect another dimension to the surface world. All there needs to be is the desire, the power, and the stemming of oneself from the surface plain to an outer plain of existence to make a portal to another dimension. That is how it worked after all: the surface being the basis (where we are now), the spiritual plain being where our second life begins, and the extraterrestrial plain (the third plain) for the new world.
"Yes, the project. I have been able to replicate the spell with comfortable security."
A gasp from Celestia was what I expected. Her voice hitches in her throat and lodges there until her mind decoded my message.
"You have..."
"Created the third plain."
I have planned to call this plain "Harmony", but the amount of items in this world that have been labeled with that word haven't been so harmonic. I guess the name will be relative to its content, which I have found in a piece of technology that I am willing to decode.
"So... was that the news you wished to inform me of?"
"Partially," I reply. "The third plain, which consists of only this portal, has been interesting. I only have kept it open for an hour, and within the hour, I have gathered something that you and I are both knowledgeable of."
"And that is...?"
I smirk. "Ever heard of spell speak?"
She nods. It was obvious, wasn't it?
"Well, now I have found a device that has it embedded within its construction."
I wave it at her. She gasps again.
"But that is not possible, is it?"
"It is. We have seen it multiple times here. The radio is not foreign."
Celestia's eyes widen. "Then that means..."
"The species is just as intelligent as we are, if not more."
Her eyes remain wide as she stares at the radio. "Set it down, Twilight."
I do as I am told. The radio lands on the bed.
Celestia picks up the radio with her magic. Her eyes gaze over its black finish. She spots the dial and turns it.
The static begins again.
"It works?"
I shake my head. "I tried to tune it, but the frequency is not--"
I watch as she turns another dial. The static stops.
A warm voice emits from its speakers:
"Hello?"
"Hello?" Celestia replies.
"Anne, why are you fiddling with that old recorder, anyway?"
Recorder?
"It's not old, brother! You know why mother gave us this! She wanted us to record our thoughts so when the war is over, we can remember what happened!"
"So it's a recording?"
The radio on their end sounds like it's moving.
"Her telling you it is not old does not mean that it's a Walkman from her closet, little sis."
The girl, who I am guessing is Anne, harrumphs at his reply.
"How do you know that she did not buy it days before the war started?"
The sounds of water spilling into a bucket echoes in the background.
"Because she gave me it when I was your age."
A gasp, from Anne.
"Really, big brother?"
"Really."
Soft noise stays constant behind the noise of the water bouncing into the bucket.
"Is that the last of the water?"
A grunt from the boy emits through the Walkman.
"Yep! Dad wants us to keep a clean supply near us. He does not want us drinking debris-heavy well water, now would he?"
A giggle from Anne makes my heart skip a beat.
"That he did! Do you think he'll come back?"
"Yeah, sis... He'll be back."
Celestia frowns. "Why doesn't he sound sure about that?"
I mirror her frown. This does not sound good.
"Is he good at shooting a gun?"
"Water gun, maybe. But not a rifle."
"Rifle?" What the heck is that?
"I wish this war didn't have to happen."
A whimper comes from the speakers. The water stops bouncing.
Crinkling, moving, and a sob or two later, the final words echo in the speakers,
"I know.
I know..."
Before the static dies to the sound of an explosion.
