S1E1: The Stars Align, Part One
The Stars Align
Part One
“...the fate of Equestria does not rest on me making friends.” -Twilight Sparkle
Whiskey Rose paced frantically about her office, stretching the cord to her phone to its limit on each pass. “Are you serious?!” she said, violently squeezing the handset cradled in her hoof.
“I’m sorry, Whiskey,” rumbled Shining Armor. “Princess Celestia only just told me. Twilight already left; I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”
“Listen to me, you little--” she drew in a sharp breath, taking a second before continuing. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to say goodbye to your sister. I am. But I am the Chief Herald to Princess Celestia. You do know what that means, yes?”
“Yes I do, as a matter of fact, I--”
“It means that I am her speechwriter. I handle her communications with the government, with the public. I am supposed to be there!” She slammed her hoof down on her desk, spilling pencils and papers on the floor. “I’ve been the coordinator of every Summer Sun Celebration she’s attended for the past seven years!” Her gaze dropped to her desk, where a photo of an earth pony mare lay flat, knocked over by her tirade. “My cousin lives in Ponyville! I was going to visit her!”
Shining’s sigh barely came through the pop on the line. “I understand that, Whiskey, and I do sympathize, but I’m just the messenger here. You’ll have to talk to the Princess yourself on this one.”
“But--”
“I’m sorry Whiskey but I need to go. Security matters for tomorrow. Bye.” The line clicked.
“Uugh!” Whiskey slammed the handset down on the cradle.
A loud rapping came from the open doorway. A pegasus stallion stuck his head in, his reddish blonde mane falling over his eyes, his tie flopping. “Is this a bad time?”
With a sigh, she waved him in. She flopped down into her office chair, rumpling her skirt. The chair creaked in protest, setting her teeth even more on edge. “What is it, Loose?”
Loose Cannon trotted casually in, leaning against the wall. “Oh, well, Prudence wanted me to make sure you weren’t about to break another phone--”
“Loose,” Whiskey growled.
He snickered. “It can wait. What’s got you all riled up, Thorny?”
“I just finished speaking with Shining Armor.”
Loose let out a deep chuckle. “What’d he do this time?”
“He just told me that the Princess sent his sister to oversee Ponyville’s Summer Sun Celebration! At the last minute! I’ve been planning this trip for weeks!” Her head fell to her desk with a groan. “I was looking forward to this so much…”
“Wow, really? That’s pretty sudden. Did he say why?”
“No,” she moaned through her desk blotter. “I didn’t ask.”
“Well I’m sure the Princess had a good reason,” Loose said, trotting over to the desk and leaning against it. “She doesn’t make decisions like this lightly.”
“But I was going to see my cousin…” Whiskey whined.
Through the corner of her eye she saw Loose lean down and grab a framed photo off her desk. “This her?” he said, holding it up. “She’s pretty cute.”
She raised her head up and scowled. “She’s seeing someone,” she said, snatching the photo away. “But yes, this is her. Golden Harvest. Sis and I always called her Carrot Top.” Her scowl softened into a wistful smile. “She and I went to the University of Manehattan together, but she dropped out after the first year. Said she wanted to get back to our family’s roots, go farming. I told her I thought it was stupid at the time, but, well… every once in awhile I wish I’d joined her.”
“Yeah, me too,” Loose quipped. “We’d save a ton on our office supplies budget.”
She snorted, her lips twisting into a frown. “You’re a real jerk sometimes, you know that?”
He held up a wing to his breast. “Moi? Impossible. I’m a total saint.”
She rolled her eyes, but her frown evaporated, replaced by a slight grin. “Yes, absolutely, that’s why you sleep with everything that moves.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that all the colts and fillies love me,” he said, preening. “I just give ‘em what they want, and what they want is my cannon, if you catch my drift.”
She gagged. “Ugh, don’t be so crude.”
He sidled up to her, wrapping a wing around her, wrinkling her suit jacket. “You ever want to find out what it’s like, you just let me know, Thorny.”
She pushed him away roughly, snickering. “Like I told you the last fifty or so times, never gonna happen. My kids would never forgive me.”
He shrugged, straightening his shirt and tie. “Suit yourself.”
“Hey, Loose?” asked another stallion poked his head in through the door, a clipboard full of papers floating in his magic. “Can I talk to you?”
“Yeah, just a minute, Cheddar, I’ll be right out.” The stallion nodded, shutting the door.
“So what was it you wanted to see me about anyway?” Whiskey asked. She stood, bending down to pick up some of the loose papers, sorting them back into proper order on her desk.
“Oh, right,” said Loose. “Prudence called ahead and told me she’s bringing by the last interviewee for the Princess’s bodyaide. Said this one was a griffon..”
She stopped, smirking. “Really? Well well. I hope she’s hired; it’d put a real twist in Blueblood’s knickers, that’s for sure.”
“Excuse me, Whiskey,” said Astral Star, Whiskey’s personal secretary, meekly stepping in. He shrunk away, eyes looking at the floor. “But you have a call waiting on line two.”
Whiskey pursed her lips. “I’ll have to take this, Loose.”
He nodded. “Right, right, sure. Catch you later.”
Loose trotted out in amongst the offices. The noise embraced him, a cloud of ponies talking, phones ringing, intercoms buzzing. He loved it here, all the ponies crowding about, scribbling away at their papers or talking into their phones, or rifling through file cabinets. The desks in the main office space were arranged in little cubicles along long corridor like rows, fitting where they could like an ant colony amongst the old stone and wood of Canterlot Castle The ceiling hung far overhead, a remnant of when the massive office space dedicated to the Princess’s personal staff was once the Princess’s second ballroom. Some of the pegasi had their desks up in little clouds near the ceiling, looking down over the various separate dividing walls. The private offices for the heads of departments, of course, had their own ceilings so they could have total privacy.
“Hey, Loose,” said Cheddar, pulling Loose out of his thoughts. Cheddar Cheese was a young stallion, his sharp, orangish coat blending well with the mild yellow of his mane, with yellow eyes just as mild, kind eyes. The unicorn floated a file folder into Loose’s gaze and opened it. “Take a look at this. It’s from today’s Council of Nobles meeting.”
“Hrmm.” Loose took the folder in one wing, peering down at the sheets of paper. “‘We must not let our universities and schools be besmirched by those who would flout our long-standing cultural traditions. Our cutie marks define who we are as ponies; we cannot allow those without to--’ Oh what in Tartarus is this?!”
“Right?” Cheddar said, scowling. “Can you believe her? Duchess Seafoam actually wants to roll back the donkey education reforms.”
“This is ridiculous,” Loose growled. “The Princess herself pushed heavily for these reforms to be signed off on by the Council over twenty years ago! Where does the Duchess get off saying this now?”
“Haven’t you been listening to the radio today?” Cheddar said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re usually good about that.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been in meetings all day,” Loose grumbled, “because Vanhoover’s MA’s can’t stop jabbering about Neighponese immigrants causing problems.”
“Well then you’re not going to like this. Turns out that there was a riot in Baltimare City.”
“Donkeys, I’m guessing?” Loose shook his head, sighing. “What caused it?”
Cheddar grimaced. “Well it turns out that the local government in Baltimare has been working out some new higher education standards for who can be accepted where. Family income requirements, tests of ‘natural talent,’ quotas, et cetera, all in the name of preserving the quality of higher education in the Duchy. They announced it publicly today, and a protest demonstration turned violent when someone threw a rock at a police officer.”
“So naturally the Duchess is using this to justify her position,” Loose said. “Thanks for letting me know. I gotta go speak to Clive about this. I need you to put together some reading for me on the education reforms and the history of Baltimare of the last twenty years. Have it on my desk in an hour.”
“You got it,” said Cheddar.
Loose made a beeline for Clive’s office. Unlike his own office, Clive’s spoke of the donkey’s affinity for intellectual pursuits. One wall was dominated by a bookshelf full of legal tomes, many of which showed clear and obvious signs of heavy use. The desk, a large oaken thing covered in green felt, overflowed with stacks of papers and curled scrolls. A large magnifying glass lay atop an open book. The only thing out of place was a metallic filing cabinet next to the desk.
The donkey himself wore a finely tailored suit and small spectacles rimmed in gold. He bore a smile, though it was rather strained, Loose thought. “Hello, Loose,” he said in his cultured Baltimare accent. “Please come in.”
“Hey.” Loose plopped into the squashy armchair opposite the desk. “Listen, how you holding up?”
Clive worked his jaw, staring down at his desk. “If I’m honest? Not well.” He reached into the filing cabinet and withdrew the transcript for the day’s Council meeting, sliding it over to Loose. “The Duchess was most unkind, to put it politely.”
Loose skimmed the transcript, becoming angrier and angrier by the second. His eyes took notice of one word in particular and he had to fight the urge to slam a hoof down on Clive’s luxurious desk. “She actually said that? That’s, that’s unbelievable!”
Clive smiled mirthlessly. “Yes, well, such is the price of free speech, is it not?” He took the transcript back and returned it to the filing cabinet. “She won’t succeed, in any event. Even if a majority of the Council agreed to give Baltimare an exception to the reforms, which the Mayor of Manehattan’s influence would never allow, the Princess would veto any law that came of it.”
“Yeah, sure, but that doesn’t mean she should be getting away with this,” Loose snarled. He took a moment to calm himself, then added, “Did the Nobles vote to institute emergency measures?”
“No, fortunately. With the Summer Sun Celebration being tomorrow, they said it would be up to the Duchy of Baltimare to provide its own extra security. There’s nopony to spare.”
“Well at least there’s that,” Loose said. “Ugh, I’m so sorry, Clive.”
Clive shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Loose. While it’s painful, I am used to it. Such thinking has followed me my whole life, after all. Were it not for these very reforms, my mind would’ve been wasted in menial labor.” He sighed. “But instead, here I am. The first donkey to be Princess Celestia’s personal Proxy on the Council. A honor for which I am very grateful.”
Loose sighed. “Right. Well, I’m going to be addressing it. I already know the Princess isn’t going to be happy with this. I’m having Cheddar put some stuff together for me now; your staff and mine can coordinate to put together an official response.”
Clive nodded, standing. He held out a hoof to shake. “Thank you, Loose. It is much appreciated.”
“Sure thing,” Loose said, shaking the proffered hoof. “Least I can do for one of my best buddies, yeah?”
“Indeed,” Clive said with the first genuine smile he’d had all day. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go meet Prudence to discuss this matter.”
“Sure, sure. Say Hi to the griffon for me, yeah?”
“Griffon?” Clive mumbled to himself as he trotted into the maze of cubicles. With swift strides he made good time to the main entrance of the West Tower, arriving just in time to catch Prudence as she trotted in, griffon in tow. “Ah, hello, Prudence!” he greeted. “And hello, miss.”
The griffon simply nodded. “Clive,” said Prudence, her manner cold and brusk.
“I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I was hoping to discuss with you today’s Council meeting.”
“Yes, I heard about the riot. But I’m afraid it has to wait. I have to escort Gretchen here to her appointment with the Princess,” Prudence answered, gesturing at the griffon.
“Of course. In your office in a few minutes, then?”
“That will be fine,” Prudence said. She walked away without another word.
“Who was that?” Gretchen asked in her somewhat thick Griffonian accent.
“Clive Britches,” Prudence said. “I’ll introduce you to the staff more formally if the Princess hires you. For now don’t worry about it.”
“A-alright.”
Prudence withdrew her pocket watch from her vest pocket. “Hrm, it’s four o’clock. We’d better hurry, come on.”
She led Gretchen through the corridors, weaving in and out of the constantly moving traffic. The journey took little time, and soon they were standing in front of the Celestial Office. The Princess’s personal secretary sat at a desk next to the door, an aged mare squinting at a scroll through large spectacles.
“Neufchatel,” said Prudence, startling the older mare. “We’re here for Gretchen’s interview.”
Neufchatel peered at Gretchen with rheumy eyes. “Guten tag, Frau Gretchen. Willkommen im Westturm. Prudence, the Princess isn’t ready yet. She’s in a meeting with Duchess Seafoam.”
Gretchen’s eyes popped. “Du spristch Greifische?”
“Ja,” Neufchatel said. “I was born in Prance, in a little town on the border with Griffonia. Knew a lot of Griffons in my time. Parlez-vous prançais?”
“Oui, but very little,” Gretchen replied.
Prudence scowled. “Do you know when the Princess will be finished?”
“A while yet, I would imagine. The Princess didn’t seem too pleased with her.”
“I see. Gretchen, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait alone. I have much work I need to get back to.” She turned to leave.
“Of course, I understand,” Gretchen said just before Prudence disappeared into the throng. The griffon took a seat on a convenient bench. She wrung her talons together, trying to calm them from shaking.
“Pardon me for prying, Gretchen, but you look like you’re about to bolt out the window,” Neufchatel said.
Gretchen swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. “No, of course not. I am just nervous.”
Neufchatel smiled, showing yellowed teeth stained by decades of tea. “Don’t be. The Princess is a kind, wonderful mare. She makes everyone feel welcome.”
“Is that so?” Gretchen said.
Neufchatel nodded. “Yup. S’why she uses this office. Oh she meets with old fashioned petitioners in the throne room in the mornings, but every day from noon till dusk she’s in that office, meeting ponies face to face, one on one. Lot less intimidating that way. She doesn’t like to scare ponies.”
Gretchen looked at the doors to the office. Unlike the doors to the throne room down in the Central Tower, or even the doors to many of the private offices in the West Tower, these were simple wood, painted in a modest display of white and gold, much like the walls of this separate corridor off the main stretch of the tower. Were it not for the plain sun sigil on each door, Gretchen wouldn’t have even known it was the office of the Princess. “I see what you mean,” she said.
One door slammed open against the stone in a loud crack of noise. Gretchen jumped, barely repressing a shriek. A dour mare clothed in a regal dress of burgundy and blue stomped out, a nasty sneer plastered on her lips. “Move,” she ordered as she rudely shoved past Gretchen, kicking the door closed behind her.
Gretchen bowed her head instantly. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said as she tried her hardest to squish up against the wall. She remained there for several moments until she was certain the Duchess was gone. “What was that about?”
“Something about education,” Neufchatel said with a shrug.
“Miss Neufchatel,” came the regal voice of Celestia herself from the intercom on the secretary’s desk. “What’s next on my agenda?”
Neufchatel slapped a hoof to the button. “Your final candidate is here for her interview, Your Highness.”
“Oh, she is? Wonderful! Please, send her in.”
Neufchatel raised an eyebrow to Gretchen. “Go on in. Good luck.”
Gretchen gulped. She rose to her feet slowly, plodding until she came to the door. With another gulp, she gripped the handle in a talon and pushed it open.
The Celestial Office was plainer than she expected. The walls were painted in a gradient of sky colors, from dawn to dusk, a mixture of bright cyan blues and dark purples. The floor was marble, enchanted a subdued lavender and decorated with depictions of flowers. One wall was dominated by a fireplace, a fire burning cheerfully, lending warmth. Near to the door was an ornate couch sitting atop a fine rug. On the other side of the room, past a stand for scrolls was the Princess’s desk, an ancient looking wooden affair, with more modern accoutrements such as the intercom placed on top. The Princess herself was seated at her desk, in the largest armchair Gretchen had ever seen in her life, one that, like the desk, was ancient but well cared for. Two more chairs, much smaller, sat across from the desk, presumably for the Princess to speak with visitors face to face.
“Welcome, Gretchen!” The Princess said gracefully. “Please, sit. It is wonderful to finally meet you in person.”
Gretchen bowed her head to the floor. “It is an honor, Your Highness, to be in your presence,” she said, grateful that she managed to say it without a stutter or gaffe.
Princess Celestia smiled warmly. “There is no need to bow. In this office, you needn’t stand on ceremony. Please just call me Princess, or Princess Celestia if you prefer.”
Gretchen raised her head quick. “O-of course, your--Princess Celestia.” She mentally kicked herself and quickly sat in the chair, wrapping her tail around herself so it wouldn’t be squashed against the back of the chair.
“I apologize if you were waiting a while,” Celestia said. She tucked an open folder on her desk into one drawer, withdrawing another from a different drawer. “I’m afraid I had quite a few words for Duchess Seafoam on her behavior today.”
“It was not a trouble, I assure you,” said Gretchen.
“I’m glad to hear that. So,” said Celestia, opening the folder and staring down at the top sheet of paper. “You are Gretchen Vogel, from Hoofover. That is near Griffonstone itself, is it not?”
“It is,” Gretchen answered. “Though it is a more modern city. Griffonstone is quite… ancient.”
Celestia slowly nodded. “That is true. I have visited the ancient capital of Griffonia many times, though not recently. You attended Trottingham University, under a knightly scholarship, with a major in Equestrian literature and a minor in Equestrian law?”
Gretchen nodded nervously. “Yes, I was an apprentice, sponsored by my Patron, to be an educated warrior. I believe my title in Equestrian is Bookblade.”
“An interesting mix of pursuits,” Celestia commented. “Not one many ponies would undertake. What is your chosen weapon?”
“Short sword, Princess,” Gretchen said. Her eyes lit up as she spoke. “I prefer it over the longsword or the spear. It does not have the same reach, but it is quick, and lets me strike and fly away before my enemy can attack. I am considered very highly skilled.”
Celestia let out a small laugh. “Let us hope you never need to practice those skills here. My Royal Guard are too proud to let anyone else defend me.”
“Oh of course, Princess.” Gretchen squirmed in her chair, a hot blush coming to her cheeks.
“Now, as to why you’re here.” The Princess closed Gretchen’s file, placing her full attention on Gretchen. “The position of bodyaide is very important to me. My previous aide served with me for seventy years before she passed away several years ago. I considered her a very close friend, as I have with all of my aides before her, and as I would like with you. You will see me nearly every waking moment, aiding me in every task. You will be my confidant, someone with whom I can speak frankly. There are few others with whom I could be so open and honest. In other words, Gretchen, you will be my friend first, and my employee second. This is not at all a position for those who seek glory or fame. As such, I must ask: why do you seek this position?”
“I…” Gretchen stammered. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, and then opened her eyes again. “I want to serve my country, to serve Equestria. My people, we are not respected much by ponies, even though Griffonia has been a loyal state of Equestria for many centuries.” She looked up directly into Celestia’s eyes. “Under your rulership, my people have changed. We are not as violent. We respect our females as much as our males. Without your rulership I would not be an educated griffon. I would be lucky if I were more than a scullery maid. But with it, we can be friends. A thousand years ago, a griffon in your presence would be an assassin or an assailant, and would be struck down as such. But today, I can sit here because I grew up inspired by you, by what you represent. Friendship. Harmony. I wish nothing more than to defend and show respect to these virtues, and to serve you by your side, to pay proper dues for that which you have given me.”
Gretchen flopped back in her chair, sweating, though whether from the effort or from just her nerves she couldn’t say. “I would never seek this position for something so base as my personal glory, or fame. I am here for all griffons, to show to ponies that we should be seen with equal respect, that all might be equal under the sun.”
Celestia stayed silent for many moments, her regal posture fixed in examination of Gretchen, as though she were peering under Gretchen’s feathers into her very soul. Gretchen did her best to keep straight, to not waver or look away.
“I see,” Celestia finally said. “Your sentiments are honorable, Gretchen. Quite commendable.” She placed Gretchen’s file back into a drawer and closed it shut with a firm thud. “I will let you know my decision within a day. In the meantime, I would like to ask something of you.”
“Yes, of course, Princess,” Gretchen said, though inside she felt as though her heart was breaking. That response couldn’t have been good, could it? No, the Princess likely would be choosing someone else. She had been too foolish to think otherwise. “H-how can I serve?”
“I would like you to accompany me to Ponyville later this evening. The thousandth Summer Sun Celebration is being held there, and I would like it if you would attend.”
Gretchen’s heart surged with a new bit of hope. “I would be honored, of course, Princess. Is… do you normally invite candidates to travel with you?”
“Not necessarily travel, but yes,” Celestia answered, and that surge of hope died as quickly as it was born. “As I said, my bodyaide is my friend, and I could not properly finish my evaluation without at least some time spent together outside of a simple interview setting.” Her magic lit up the button of the intercom. “Miss Neufchatel, can you please arrange temporary quarters for Gretchen and have her escorted there? She will be traveling with me to Ponyville tonight.”
“Yes, Princess,” came the response.
“Thank you.” Celestia looked at Gretchen, her eyes unreadable. “Thank you as well for your time, Gretchen. I will see you tonight.”
Gretchen leapt to her feet. “Of course. Thank you, Princess Celestia.”
She managed to keep her head high right until she closed the door behind her, then she lowered it into her talons and groaned. “Scheisse, scheisse, scheisse,” she mumbled as she wandered into the corridors, not even noticing Neufchatel’s wave, nor did she see the zebra she plowed into, shrieking in surprise as she fell to the floor.
Her beak twisted in a grimace as she struggled to her paws. “Oh I am so sorry,” she said. She held out one talon to assist the zebra up. “I was not looking where I was going.”
“I’m fine, no need to apologize,” said the zebra, taking the talon and standing. She bent back down to collect her dropped papers. “Though you might want to work on that screech. Not a lot of people like being screeched at.”
“Of course, I am sorry,” Gretchen repeated. She bent down and started grabbing papers into a messy pile.
The zebra took the papers with a grateful nod. “I’m Hope, by the way. Hope Future, West Tower Press Secretary. You’re the griffon Princess Celestia is hiring to be her bodyaide, yeah?”
“I do not know about being hired, but she interviewed me, yes. I am Gretchen Vogel.” She studied Hope for a moment, curious about her name. “Forgive me if this is a rude question, but… your name is unusual for a zebra, yes?”
Hope chuckled. “I get that a lot.” She coughed into one hoof. “Listen, not that it wasn’t nice to meet you, but I’m late for my briefing. Excuse me.” She plunged into the crowd.
Hope navigated the corridors, making for the Press Room. It was smaller than she’d expected it would be when she was hired for this position. In the back, where she entered from, there was a small studio’s worth of recording equipment and audio editing, for the radio broadcasts on the Equestria wide E-PAN stations. The rest of the room was full of seats for the West Tower correspondents to all of the major newspapers of Equestria, currently filled to the brim with ponies chatting in an irritated atmosphere of impatience. At the front was a small stage for a podium laden with microphones. The wall behind it bore the seal of the Princess.
“Sorry for the delay, everypony,” Hope said as she briskly trotted in and took her position at the podium. She opened it up to her notes on the day’s events. “First up, I want to address the riot in Baltimare City. The Princess has informed me she is very concerned about these events, and has just finished a meeting with Duchess Seafoam regarding the situation.” A hoof shot up amongst the crowd. “Yes, Early Bird?”
An eggshell white mare with a butter yellow mane, wearing a pressed shirt and tie stood. “Hope, can you tell us anything about the rumors about Duchess Seafoam putting forward a measure to roll back the donkey education reforms in the Council today?”
Hope nodded. “Yes, well, you can tell your readers in Fillydelphia that yes, she did put forward such a measure, and no, the Council did not deliberate on it prior to the session ending.
Early Bird continued to stand. “Does the Princess have anything to say about it?”
“I’m afraid the Princess has no comment at this time. Yes, Yellow Pages?”
A stallion in the back put his hoof down. “Didn’t the Princess speak earlier this year about the need to advance education reform? Why doesn’t she have a comment yet? Has her policy changed?”
“I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait for it, but no, to my knowledge her policy on this matter has not changed.”
She held out her hooves as a buzz of voices calling her name rang out. “That is all I have for you on that issue. I also need to speak about the Summer Sun Celebration. This year will mark the one thousandth since the celebration began. The Princess will be leaving for Ponyville later this evening. Tomorrow morning during the festivities she will be making a speech from Ponyville Town Hall about this historic occasion.” Another buzz of voices arose. She pointed to one in particular. “Yes, Sea Jay?”
“Hope, has the Princess said why exactly she has chosen such a small, unimportant town for her public appearance this year, instead of Canterlot?”
Hope resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “As we’ve been saying many times over the past few weeks, the Princess has said she chose Ponyville because it represents the spirit of Equestria’s traditions of peaceful coexistence. Yes… erm, I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you, in the back?”
The mare in question stood, letting Hope get a good look at her. Her coat was a light shade of orange, spotted with white. She had a neatly, if oily, arranged mane of light grey spotted with darker gray specks. Around her neck she wore an Equestrian flag tie over a suit jacket. “Tabby Scoop,” spoke the mare in a voice as oily as her mane, “I’m the new correspondent for the Equestria Daily.”
“I see,” Hope said, struggling to keep a grimace of disgust from appearing on her face. The Equestria Daily was an irreputable paper, Hope thought, a soundboard for bigoted nobles and the rich. “Welcome to the West Tower, then. What is your question?”
Tabby said, with a slight smirk on her face, “Does the Princess have any comments on the rumors about the return of Nightmare Moon?”
The room stayed completely silent, everyone staring back at Tabby. Even Hope briefly lost her composure, her mouth falling open. “I beg your pardon?”
“Nightmare Moon? Boogeymare of Nightmare Night, the supposed lost sister to Princess Celestia? The Equestria Daily has many readers who are quite concerned by the legends that she will return on the day of the one thousandth celebration. The stars will align to aid in her escape, and all that. Does the Princess have any comments about this?”
“Oh,” said Hope with an amused, and relieved, grin. “You’re referring to that children’s book. No, the Princess has not said anything about this to me or anyone else in the West Tower. I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about.” She closed her folder of notes. That’s--”
“Excuse me,” Tabby interrupted, “But are you saying the Princess refuses to comment?”
“Well I don’t necessarily want to speak for the Princess, but I doubt it’s something she’s worried about. That’s a full lid, everyone,” Hope said over the fresh eruption of questions. “We’ll have our next briefing tomorrow afternoon, due to the holiday. Enjoy the Summer Sun Celebration.”
Hope left through the side door, making for Prudence’s office, waving to Clive who was just leaving. “Prudence, a word?”
“Yes?” Prudence asked as she shuffled through files on her desk.
Hope closed the door behind her, leaning up against it. “So I just had an odd question at my briefing, from the new correspondent for the Equestria Daily.”
Prudence glared at her with stoney cold eyes. “What is that tabloid asking this time?”
Hope shivered.. “Well, she was asking about Nightmare Moon, the legend of her return. I told it wasn’t anything to worry about, but--”
“You said the right thing,” Prudence answered with a rare, tiny chuckle. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll speak to the Princess about it for you. We’re not going to let the EQD rouse everyone into a panic.”
“Right, thanks,” said Hope. She opened the door and left.
Prudence left immediately for the Celestial Office. Though she’d laughed it off to Hope, she had to admit she was rather concerned herself. Not that she thought there was any truth to the matter, of course--she knew for certain the Princess would’ve said something to someone by now otherwise--but the Equestria Daily had a nasty habit of rabble rousing.
“Neufchatel,” she said without ceremony as she arrived at the mare’s desk, “I need the next two minutes the Princess has.”
“Well I think that may be right now,” Neufchatel said. “Princess? Prudence is here to see you.”
“Send her in please,” came the answering squawk of the intercom.
Prudence entered, striding up to the Princess who was seated on the couch, sipping tea. “Good afternoon, Princess.” She explained the situation.
“I see,” said Celestia. She floated her cup to the table. “I am not surprised to hear some are concerned about this.”
“Did you have anything you wanted us to say on your behalf?”
Celestia gave Prudence her smile of mystery, the one that always frustrated Prudence to no end. “No. What Hope said at her briefing is adequate. It is not something to be concerned about.”
Prudence frowned. “Are you sure, Princess? We might have to fight some fires on this one.”
The Princess just smiled again. “I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that.” She took up her cup of tea again, sipping daintily. “Let the issue burn itself out.”
“Of course, Princess,” Prudence said, barely hiding a scowl.
Celestia watched her Seneschal depart, waiting a few minutes before hitting the intercom button again. “Miss Neufchatel could you please clear my schedule for the rest of the evening?”
“Princess?” came back the confused reply.
“Please do as I’ve asked,” said Celestia with just the barest hint of irritation. She shut off the intercom and leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh. She turned her gaze to the window behind her, opening the curtains and exposing the sky. The sun shone brightly, dusk being many hours away. She reached out with her magic, feeling the ancient connection between her and the sun. It warmed her heart, welcoming, fierce but friendly, a soothing presence.
Then she moved her magic to the moon, currently hidden from sight. As it had for every day for the past thousand years, the touch of the moon was like liquid ice, burning at her, fighting her, refusing to obey. An ancient body, once as kind and gentle as the sun, perverted by the ever present aura of darkest magic, evil and foul.
“Sister,” Celestia whispered. “It won’t be long now.”
The moon gave no answer, not that she expected one. “It’s been too long, Sister. I’ve missed you… missed you so much.” Her mouth twisted into a wan smile. “I’ve known when you’d return for a long time, Sister. I’m ready for you. But I won’t fight you.”
She stood, taking shaky steps to the window’s edge, letting the cool breeze of the evening flow through her coat and mane. “I won’t let you fight me, Sister. We lost so many, last time. I… I can’t do that to my little ponies. And I won’t have to.”
Her magic sought out and caught a framed picture on her desk, floating it out to hold up to the moon. “This is my student, Twilight. I’ve talked to you about her many times. She’ll be there, in Ponyville. She’s the key.” She withdrew the picture so she could look at it herself. “She will save you. I promise, Sister. And she won’t be alone.”
She returned the picture to her desk. “I haven’t told anyone my plans. I couldn’t risk it. They would try to hurt you, Sister. I’m not the absolute monarch we once were together; I wouldn’t be able to stop them from trying to protect me. But I have a plan for that too. I won’t let them panic. If all goes well… you and I will be together again.”
Celestia returned to her chair, though her eyes didn’t leave the moon. “I know the darkness in you will scream at you to fight, to hurt, to kill. You must fight it in turn, Sister. Don’t let it win. Please…”
The rest of Celestia’s evening passed with little fanfare. She and Gretchen took a train to Ponyville, chatting along the way, though Celestia’s heart wasn’t really in the conversation. She couldn’t stop thinking about her sister, about the coming confrontation.
“Your highness, we’ve arrived,” announced one of her two ever present Royal Guard escorts, startling her from her thoughts.
“Thank you,” she said, resuming her serene posture and focusing on the here and now. “Come, Gretchen. The town hall awaits.”
The streets of Ponyville laid dark and dormant, with only a few ponies wandering about, most of them stumbling or swaying, drinks in hand. Celestia repressed a chuckle. Her ponies would be her ponies, happily partying throughout the night even in this quiet little hamlet.
As they approached the town hall, however, the streets became much more crowded. Throngs of ponies milled towards the town hall, talking animatedly and cheerfully as they gathered in front, waiting to be admitted to the main hall where Celestia would speak. Celestia and Gretchen were lead around back, however, by a small party of Royal Guards, keeping the crowd away from Celestia.
“Your Highness,” greeted the Mayor of Ponyville, keeping her head bowed in respect. “Welcome to Ponyville.”
“Thank you, Mayor Ivory Scroll. It is wonderful to be here in Ponyville again,” said Celestia. “This is Gretchen; she will be accompanying me for the speech.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Ivory said, shaking Gretchen’s talon. “Please, this way Princess.”
“Princess,” Gretchen asked as they made their way through the hallways up to the third floor, “will I be standing next to you during your speech?”
“Not quite, but you will be nearby, out of sight. Afterwards though, you’ll stay with me till the party.” She smiled down at the griffon, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Usually I have more staff with me for something like this, but tonight I thought it better to keep things simple, to help us build a better connection.”
“Yes, Princess,” Gretchen answered, staring down at her talons. Celestia mentally sighed, wishing she could be honest with Gretchen over what was to come.
“In here, Princess,” said Ivory, leading them into the mayor’s own office. It was a simple affair, just a desk and some cabinets. A small town didn’t need much. There was a door out to a balcony overlooking the main hall, where the Mayor could speak to her citizens. The door was currently sealed, covered by a curtain. Celestia couldn’t hear a thing from the crowd she knew had already gathered downstairs, which was good. Better that no one have a chance to hear.
“Thank you, Ivory,” Celestia said.
“Of course, Your Highness.” The Mayor beamed. “I will be down on the second floor, ready to introduce you. We are proud to have one of our finest citizens ready to pull open the curtain for you tonight, Rarity Belle.”
Celestia nodded regally. “Thank you, Mayor. That will be all. I believe the speech will begin soon.”
The Mayor nodded, whisking out the door as quickly as politeness would let her. Celestia ordered her guards to stand watch outside, closing the door tightly. She took the copy of her speech from Gretchen, and looked it over, not even really reading it so much as briefly skimming it. It was a beautiful speech, she thought. Whiskey Rose had worked so hard on it. A pity the effort was wasted.
“Princess, is something wrong?” Gretchen asked. “Something does not feel right.”
The room grew cold, cold as ice. Celestia let out a small gasp. The touch of dark magic drew around her. “It’s time,” she said.
“Time? Time for what?” Gretchen said, her voice rising in fright. “Princess?”
“Gretchen, please forgive me,” Celestia said as clouds of dark magic became visible, drawing around her like a shroud. A cold, sinister laugh echoed in the room, sounding warped as though it was not really there at all. “Whatever happens, you must return to Canterlot as quickly as possible, do you understand me? Run. Don’t fight!”
“Celestia, dear sister,” came a voice, echoing around the room, bouncing about almost like a solid object, yet passing through their ears like little more than a breeze. “It’s so good to see you again.” The voice let out another spine-chilling laugh.
Gretchen gasped, her beak falling open. “Sister? Princess Celestia, that voice, it is…”
A solid form emerged from the clouds, spinning and weaving to reveal a face. Gretchen shrieked in fright. “Nightmare Moon!”
“Run, Gretchen!” Celestia commended, even as Nightmare Moon laughed again, the tendrils of cloud burst into chains, wrapped tightly around Celestia’s body. “Run! Warn Canterlot! Save yourself!”
“My sister, dear sister,” Nightmare Moon laughed. “You won’t fight me?”
“No, Luna. I will not,” Celestia said, refusing to cringe even as the chains gripped her painfully tight. “Do as you will.”
“Fool. You will suffer as I have suffered, sister!” Nightmare Moon snarled, baring her teeth. “I shall imprison you in your precious sun! Equestria will be mine at last!”
“No!” Gretchen shrieked, leaping into action, trying desperately to pull a chain off of Celestia.
“Gretchen, I said run!” Celestia thundered, throwing Gretchen off with her magic. The griffon shook in absolute terror, then bolted out the door, fleeing past the guards that Celestia could see lay cold on the floor, unconscious or dead. She prayed for the former.
“Do not worry, sister. I will take good care of her, as I will all my subjects.”
The chains lit on fire, the warmth of the sun devouring Celestia whole.
Author's Note
Welcome everyone, to the West Tower! This has been a story long in development; it took me quite a while to work out the Equestrian government model I'm using in the story. I'd like to thank Written Waiver for his amazingly generous assistance in providing story art and editing, and to Alexander Krizak and my boyfriend, Harold Walter, for their valuable insights as prereaders.
While I'm not committing to any specific kind of uploading schedule, I will be doing my best to get new chapters out fairly quickly. So don't worry; I won't be leaving you in suspense for months. Thanks for reading! 
