She met her at one of the Grand Galloping Galas—those grand parties filled with soft music and court banter. Princess Celestia had learned that even at her first ten efforts to introduce different activities that both gentry and common pony alike would not deter from their subjects of politics, sports, gossip, and other everyday topics. It wasn't that she minded keeping things as they were, just that even during grand parties—excuses to stay within the castle at night and forget the moon that loomed above with the silent you did this that she wanted to forget—ponies would still be nice and predictable.
Okay, maybe too predictable.
But she wasn't like that. Three hundred years into her reign alone it was meant to be just another Grand Galloping Gala where she could socialize casually with one and all. The princess had complements for each mare and stallion's attire with a smile any mortal hostess would quietly envy.
It was there, on that night, that she met Silent Flight—or as she preferred, Sy—a pegasus mare from the growing merchant caste. She had no trade she was passionate about, as Celestia would soon learn. Sy only had her friend, who was kind enough to get her a dress and tickets.
A simple accident at one of the wine tasting stations and a mess of massacred grapes spilled across the palest gold satin of the princess' gown was enough for them to get a 'hello' out of one another. And that had been followed by a whole river of awkward condolences as Sy rushed to find anything to get the liquid out of the fabric before it dried. It was a pointless endeavor, not that Celestia minded her ruined one-of-a-kind gown, not when she could just commission another. She was sure nopony would notice. They were in a hall filled with half-tipsy ponies that wouldn't admit to being so in any polite conversation that perhaps this event had gotten a bit carried away.
The princess was more interested in the pony whose face she had never seen before and whose family she had never met an ancestor of. The mare who cut her sky-blue mane short instead of adopting the tresses of the age had caught Celestia's attention. Pleasantries were exchanged, and the royal Alicorn with so much experience in the art of composure under her wing caught each trace of surprise in her guest's voice. For hours on end, she spoke to a mare who told grand tales of the aerial colonies of Equestria as she had been unable to see it through her own royal eyes. Sy even bothered to speak her mind — in the presence of her Princess, no less —and confide to Celestia that she found the gentry stuffy as well. Then, she would resume her tales about the shipments relayed from exhausting routes from Cloudsdale to distant cottage-clusters in the sky.
One mistake had made these mares friends, and after that year's Grand Galloping Gala, Princess Celestia learned that Sy had moved to Canterlot. She began to visit the castle often, and the princess made all the time she could to visit her new friend. Celestia made sure to really give herself time away from her duties — a first since she had taken the throne, since the Solar Millenium had started, and the war on Discord had concluded before that. She made it one of her priorities to learn as much as possible about the pegasus mare who she could feel only delight in hanging around and introducing to her gentry gal pals.
She discovered that Sy had great skill with wingblades and their combat, and offered to pay her friend's way through formal royal guard training with money from the crown; for what could be better than protecting ponies who could not protect themselves? Sy agreed, and soon earned the prized rank of captain, solving numerous cases of break-ins around the city, and garnering enough reward bits to purchase a nicer home for herself, one with—in her words—'nifty molding'.
Then the princess learned that Sy didn't wish to go out with Celestia and her fine, gentry friends anymore, preferring to help the ponies she vowed to protect. Eventually, Celestia had discovered Sy's secret to finding so many stolen ornaments and heirlooms: the pegasus had been the one to steal such things in the first place, to uproot the much-cared-for possessions of others, and even planting them to be found. Still, the rumors of fencing only made the princess' shock more hollow. It was how she got the money to move to Canterlot, and how Sy had really gotten to Canterlot on the eve of Grand Galloping Gala in the first place, as well as how she acquired the dress.
Her new friend; a criminal? Princess Celestia did not wait to confront the lying pegasus about her law-breaking spree. She never could; the good most high was worth more than the reputation of a single pony.
She asked Sy if they were really friends.
Sy lied and told her that they were.
Celestia begged her friend not to continue her secret 'work,' and to honor the pledge she had made when she had joined the Royal Guard.
Sy lied again and told her that she would, and most importantly, she vowed that she would stop.
When a pony begs for their life at Princess Celestia's hooves, begging not to be cast out, imprisoned, exiled, or turned from the herd — well, the sun goddess was compelled to listen.
And Celestia, in her finite mercy, forgave her.
The princess thought that she had changed a pony and made them a good, righteous, and ideal subject and friend. She had done so in the past and saw no reason why this time could be different. She believed a wound had been healed when Lady Silent Flight acted nobly in both action and word. She socialized and attended parties again, and Sy even went to other events and meetings that were under the eyes of her fellow guard ponies.
Celestia thought she had grown closer to a friend that she trusted her image with. She thought she was right to try forgiveness, to spare somepony when she would normally have no reservations about turning a pony in for punishment.
She thought she was looking through a clear window, where all was revealed to the content-seeming princess. It was like she had blinked. How had she been staring at a window? There was no clean, cool glass in front of her, not now. Princess Celestia would find no garden or pleasant city below the view framed between such pristine panes. Even though the glass may distort, it can still be dirtied. Yet the princess was not given the mercy of looking at any window—be it broken, dirtied, or in any other condition.
Before Princess Celestia was a door of silvery-white. It was located in a dim part of the castle that was kept frighteningly clean at all times. As a result, there was no dust to indicate disuse, and only a stagnant chill offered any hint to how lonely and rarely occupied this part of the castle was. Where each hoof step, however quiet, left an almost unbearable echo.
Celestia's bright, golden magic, so cheerful and vibrant, held the enchanted padlock of a door so thick that not even the most muscle-bound of ponies would have been able to push it open. She used her divine magic to weave a key that only her power could make, duly noting the clean and resounding click that was made as the device dissolved upon the spell's completion.
A faint humming sound filled her ears before she rapped the solid-sounding thing with her hoof to see if the barrier around the door's exterior had dispelled.
Her hoof quivered once, but she pretended otherwise. It had.
One brusque shove, with not even a fraction of her godly strength was spent. There was a silent rush of air and a complimenting, slow swing inward.
Celestia brushed her wither off as if to clean dirt that wasn't there and stepped inside. Her eyes trained on the left wall of a room too bright to have been naturally whitewashed and humming faintly with enchantments powerful enough to restrain any pony — regardless of if they felt their power was ascended to the highest reaches of a mortal's limit.
A faint rattle of metal links rang out, and Celestia knew it was not armor.
"Celestia?"
"It is I, Princess Celestia," was Celestia's level and toneless response to the nervous and frantic questioner. This pristine area of the castle was still a dungeon — even if she had wanted to act otherwise, she could not bring herself so. Her spirit was as low as the belly of Canterhorn Mountain, where this area was located.
"Gods. Oh gods, is it really going to be you?" It was an obviously worried plea, from a pony who—like all the other subjects of Equestria—could only remember one god.
The kind of pony who was high up enough to know Equestria made no mortal take up this grim part of her royal duties.
The left wall was bare, except for three hooks. The first, placed high and centered, held a helm of gold, which Celestia ignored. For this day, she would forsake one element of impersonality. The two lower hooks were placed accordingly so they might perfectly balance the object whose weight they support.
The princess dispelled another personal, divine-wrought barrier spell. Only then did she lift the magnificent gold battle-ax from its perch. The blades were carved with patterns of flame that glittered white in the light of the werelights that huddled near the ceiling of the inescapable room and the handle. That was almost thrice the length of three average ponies standing end to end. Her grand ax bore similar etchings that ended only at the handle's end, where a ruby carved and preserved with enchantments shone with almost otherworldly wrath; the light captured by each facet carved to mimic angry flame was violently reflected onto the barren walls, where they danced chaotically against the oppressive sterility of the chamber.
It was only then that she turned around to face the mortal, the pony behind her.
A pegasus mare stood in front of a tapestry on the farthest, right wall, which depicted a rather erroneous version of the defeat of Discord by a lone Sun Goddess. Unlike the window she commissioned for Canterlot Castle when it was built a few centuries earlier, this tapestry was very recent. It wasn't just any mare either, Celestia could see the color of her coat through the bindings that stilled her wings and the blindfold that couldn't tame the pale blue mane she never grew out. The cutie mark was a final glaring confirmation.
"We," she began, as impersonal as ever to a pony that was once her friend, "would not have another soul take your own. Always has this been Our sacred duty, and an unseen one as well. Who doth thou think it was that dealt with the likes of thou? We would not let a single gentle, mortal soul take on such a task."
"Celestia, please—" begged the shackled mare, only to be poked with the ruby on Celestia's ax and made to kneel.
"We gave thou Our trust and Our forgiveness, and what hath thou done despite this?"
"I—"
"Thou kept taking from others what was not rightly thine.
"Celestia—"
"We are the Princess to thou," Celestia said, voice stern but not cold; despite the circumstance, her monarch's mask wasn't given up.
"Princess Celestia—"
"Thou, who used to be a friend, broke into the homes of thy fellow Equestrians and continued to steal from them, which was a more pardonable offense. But did thou stop there?"
"It was not—"
"Thou, Silent Flight, former Lady of Our court and a Captain of the Royal Guard, took thine wingblades—uniquely carved with thine own mark—with thou on each journey."
Silent Flight did not make a sound as the princess recounted her deeds.
"Thou, Silent Flight, trespassed in the home of a duke when thou had received word that he and his family had left for a country manor."
"I know..."
"The house was not empty, Silent Flight. A filly was there."
Silent Flight began to sob through her blindfold. "I know!"
The ears of the offender pricked up when they detected the movement of the ax cautioning them into silence once more. The guilty mare rested her head on the block of clean-scrubbed cold marble in front of her.
"She caught thou stealing her mother — the noble duchess' — jewelry. And what did thou do? It would have been a pardonable offense if thou hath run."
Silent's tears were short-lived, as she choked briefly before retreating into the quiet, which was her last shield.
"One of thine wingblades was there."
The pegasus trembled before the goddess.
"It was covered in her blood."
No empathy showed in Celestia's face.
"We tolerate a great many things in Equestria; petty thievery is one of them and is dealt with easily. The theft of life is not."
The princess did not receive any reply.
"We did so much for thou and thou will not even tell Us where thou buried her body, not that everypony does not know of thine guilt."
From the block came one cry of:
"Mercy, Celestia!"
It was the supposed cry of each of her foes: Tirek, King Sombra, Discord, and the villain they knew only as Nightmare Moon. Each was said to utter this as their last words in each and every legend that was told all across Equestria. Although it was mostly attributed to the last foe, in particular, it was held that the fabled Nightmare Moon uttered this. The stories said that Nightmare Moon was wholly black-hearted and came from across the horizons, as un-Equestrian as evil was expected to be. She tried to destroy and overthrow the pretty, universally-loved Princess Celestia. Nightmare Moon was believed to imitate a goddess, not be a truly fallen one, and she brought about the Longest Night to mark their fight. In the stories of her ponies, Nightmare Moon was all folly — pride, envy, wrath, and deceit — save lust. Every story says the splendid Princess Celestia finds out Nightmare Moon's imitation and in their fight when the 'monster' lies broken, screaming, and blood at Celestia's hooves she — supposedly — utters those words before she is sealed within the moon to suffer.
That is the story that Princess Celestia's ponies tell gleefully about what they no longer know was their ruler's little sister, her only family, and the biggest piece of disappeared history in all of Equestria. Her subjects had unknowingly made what was supposed to be a villain's petty begging and a sign of their ultimate heroine's triumph into the most brutal of taunts.
Celestia did not hesitate to swing.
Author's Note
[Revised for printing on 9/3/2020]
Celestia had always thought of herself as kind. For a long time, there had never been a doubt in her mind that she wasn't a cruel or wrathful individual. It was she did everything needed in order to get along well with the society she had discovered — the three pony tribes — and the one she had helped build: present-day Equestria, the treasure of a kingdom she gave to her ponies.
She had always tried to help as many ponies as possible, generously spending so little time on herself. It was kind to live a life of service, which was the ultimate generosity, and were charity and self-sacrifice not the ultimate acts of kindness in turn? She prided herself on the little thought of trying to place herself as 'Princess' first and 'Celestia' second. That was the order that she always had to think of herself in, and now it was automatic. It's why she gladly lent a hoof to the attendants at Canterlot's courthouse clean and sort through all their old records.
The courthouse of Canterlot was not far from the castle. It had been established after Luna's banishment when Princess Celestia got the idea in her head to let unexperienced and common ponies judge many of the crimes that could not be resolved with a quick meeting from the princess. Though, in the days of the past, it had always been the princesses, plural, who acted as judges for all. Those kinds of crimes were brutal and incredibly rare in Equestria. It also involved a visit to the princess, but it was one that they didn't return from if their crime was heinous enough. Such a trip was only after the trial took certain turns and ended with a guilty verdict.
For hundreds of years, ponies had become used to a system that had neither experienced and educated monarchs judging them or twisted and easily bought tribal nobles from days past the dual court before even Discord knew Equestria. Technically, Celestia could use her power to override the juries that were selected and any verdicts that she felt were erroneous. She rarely chose to, leaving that fact unreleased to all who didn't study law and never acted upon her ability. For the most part, as she had faith in her ponies to make the right decisions.
Today, in a couple of hours between lunch and breakfast, Celestia was going to look through the results of many overworked secretaries and even a few qualified volunteers sorting through records of every trial in Equestria, along with its verdict and corresponding evidence files.
After the exchange of pleasantries, it was settled to who would go through what and re-sort everything under the new organization system that had been implemented.
Celestia took at least a dozen boxes in her magic easily and trotted over to one of the many offices in the regal building. She would occupy this one for the next few hours.
She kept a cup of tea next to her and a schedule tucked into it, along with any other necessary papers detailing updates that might have to be made to the documents and varying seals that only the princess would have the authority to apply.
Each case was familiar and she felt herself give a faint bob of her head in recognition each time she saw a name and result.
Celestia sighed after flipping through a few files, wishing that her lot hadn't gotten so scrambled. Even under the old system, these files had gotten very mixed up. She was on the second box where it appears the last pony to attend to the case records couldn't even sort them alphabetically.
She clicked her tongue and withdrew another file with her magic, glancing at the list under her teacup quickly before returning to the folder floating in front of her, gasping at the title.
Silent Flight, a name she had almost forgotten when most of her country already had. Even for her, it had felt like a lifetime ago.
She frowned and opened the folder, flipping through the trial records, the notes from the scene, the uniquely carved set of wingblades, and the alibi that had never checked out. The princess flipped through another page detailing the fall of a pony she had once pitied. There, lying in front of her was a hoofwritten confession by the guard who had interviewed his former captain, and behind that was a timeline of what was said actually happened, adapted from Silent's own words. The grim forensics — then in their infancy — only served to hammer in the senseless tragedy.
Celestia looked at the rim of the desk where she was sitting. They had never found the body of the filly anywhere on the grounds of Silent's own property or the gardens of the manor. Such a cruel act robbed a grieving family of the right to lay their child to rest in the family tomb. That day, there had been whispers of theories among the Royal Guard — that the rivers of Canterlot were likely used as a disposal method.
The sheer heartlessness of the thought — how anypony could act so — had Princess Celestia's mane simmering at the time.
She recalled the day she stared at the face of a former friend, thinking only of a filly who would never grow up.
Mercy, Celestia.
Those had been Silent's last words before she lived up to the first half of her name.
But for her, there had been none. Silent has showed none.
Celestia closed the folder, jotted her notes, and moved on.
Author's Note
Takes place in the Iceverse although no context is needed to understand this story.
[Revised for printing on 9/2/2020]
