Stardust Bridgeby Ice StarChaptersBuildingandBurningBuildingAuthor's Note [Revised for print on 9/16/2020] Building The luminescent surface of the moon had been scarred with the image of her for far too long. The pale, cold surface had always been barren and pristine before she had been sealed away so long ago. Now that seal was coming undone. Time had run out. Cold air trembled and the silvery-white light of the moon wavered. Four invisible strings cast out from the moon ages ago pulled through the empty skies, as barren as the fair moon had once been. They were no longer threads of magic that barely managed to flow through the skies, needing to avoid anything that might hinder their movement and get in the way of their quest. Ages had passed. She had known none of it, but still felt time march on in its unending cycle that aided her as well. As the moon danced in the sky, the goddess within it who was locked below the ivory surface that shone so brightly knew that time had likely aided those who would oppose her as well. It would be foolish to think otherwise. She did not expect time to favor her — or any creature, pony, or otherwise — but it would be a lie to say that it hadn't granted her its own advantages. With the unknowing aid of time, her strings of magic grew to mighty chains so powerful anything that dared venture to the savage territory she had been forced into would be aware of the presence of some kind of power. But there was no one to visit. This was an unforgiving place and it would allow none but her kind to survive. Had any mortal creature been able to survive, there would be no point in their company. Mortals would only be able to wither where she merely lingered — and survived. No company was needed or desired by her anyway. Her years had dragged on in solitude that was as fragmented as she was. Chains of magic that leaked from seals she couldn't wrench herself from had snagged drifting lights, wrapping them in their own prisons and pulling the magic-laden wisps closer to the cool moon, where she dwelled in bitterness. Gradually, their strength waned while hers grew, but there was still more power she could obtain from the drifting magical lights that drifted no more. It was a power she aimed to sap from them now. Even from within the confines of her celestial prison that was colder than any earthly place, she thought that she could feel the warmth of the werelight-waste from inside the icy nothingness. She had become accustomed to the sensation once the Elements' Rainbow of Light had burned her physical form away and left her here. But, oh, how she liked to pretend that she could still feel something external of herself. Things like the feel of grass under hooves and wind in one's mane. The turning of spell book pages in darkened corridors and the song of stars on the quietest nights, when silence managed to drown out even the chirping of crickets in the grass. That was just one of the many ways in which night opened the curtains upon the world to reveal its truth and life — something the day could never do. Instead, she only felt the crushing weight of accumulated emotion. There were pain and anger, a particularly toxic shade of vindictiveness she gave up trying to push away. It was embraced instead as if that could offer some cure to its intensity. It never did. She waited and moved about as only a creature in her state could, an invisible ocean that only roiled in ways none could see. And she denied missing those things and recalled bitter stabs of other memories that soaked over the things she most certainly did not miss. There was the coldness of a sister chilled by the lands up north, bearing a heart of ice that hadn't been there before. The folly of ponies who dug their own graves and fought pointless wars over who had wings, horns, and who didn't. Those foolish mortals trampled everything between them and below them so that nothing remained but their decay. Unforgettable was the smothering stone walls of a castle that had been atop something that meant more — or it had, to her and her alone. She recalled a crown that had never suited her, and that they knew it too. With the pitiful knowledge of the mortals was the ostracism and shunning of what little she had: starlight, moonlight, and dark that outlined over everything they never wanted to see. So, she had exchanged the crown she had so reluctantly accepted for the helm of a war-bringer. If they wanted to scream against the heuristic of life that her night was, she would force it upon them. As the world she could no longer see kept on spinning, the sun and moon cycling around it, she took to lying about... things. Small details about somepony, anything to make her mask less painful on the outside and dull anything on the inside. It didn't work as well as one might have hoped, but hope was something that she had lost long ago. And when the last grains of sand fell in an hourglass she had known and the keys of starlight were at last obtained, she asked herself who she was, completing the finishing touch in a lie that had been ripped and sewn from magic and resentment. She told herself who she was. She told herself that she was Nightmare Moon. ... Glowing white stone that knew no movement suddenly shook from within. Cracks erupted on the surface and made no sound. The once-drifting lights, the false stars made of the accumulated magic of countless werelights that had drifted ever upward and mixed with whatever debris they had found. Now the anchored orbs truly felt the titanic weight of the goddess' want. They were overwhelmed by the desire for revenge, for freedom, for anything. Even if they had no lives or mind of their own, these objects — four false stars, burning bright in the sky — managed to sense something. That was something dark, something lurking and boiling beneath the moon's surface as the magic of hundreds of thousands -— and even more, were it to be counted — ponies was dragged toward the scarred surface faster than ever before by unbreakable chains. The added weight of all the light-bringing enchantments from a million artifacts of power, some as plain as a wizard's staff and others as rare as a proud sorcerer's magnum opus that still managed to bring the same light. Everything flew towards the moon whether it was the quick-to-die residue of a young foal's werelight, or the practiced and full-fledged flicker of an adventurer's illumination spell. They crashed into the moon, engulfing the surface is rushing, monstrous waves of magic that were drained of all individual aura hues so that the pearly, bright, translucent light was not seen by any who inhabited the world below. If any creature at all were to look up at the sky, they would not see a collision of awesome power... ...just four 'stars' winking out. The magic washed over the surface, seeking out the cracks erupting across the landscape as the magic of another, a goddess below the surface, drew it closer. Lingering over newly made fissures, clouds of power lingered at the edge. Then, the humming and glittering aura that had long departed their original owners before disappearing. From the depths, a cloud of bluish-purple smoke, dense, opaque, and sparkling was lifted. It floated aimlessly, though with some mind of its own before engulfing the rest of the swarm of magic that had collected. It writhed and fought against nothing at all, the bluish and hazy scrap winning in the end — as if there had ever been any doubt that it could. Swirling once more the maelstrom of magic collapsed in on itself and settled closer to the moon's surface, stretching itself into a thread and stitching together all the jagged tears in the dusty, cold surface and brushing it back to a clean white state smoother than it had been before. It looked silvery and ghost-thin — like something would just fall through it and end up... nowhere, in some white space with no up and down or beginning or end. Solid or transparent? There wasn't an answer. The magic settled nearby, stirring aimlessly on occasion. Waiting. Blooming on the softly lit and the sewn surface of the stone was an outline of black, thin lines that grew darker by the second. The blue magic quivered slightly as if detecting something. Like a picture being drawn by an invisible hoof, more lines started emerging, forming contours and details. The view of a creature's back and wings that were caught mid-fold. Feathers were drawn and a black coat was shaded — or perhaps revealed — by the increasing amount of details that emerged, drawing up somepony from below the surface. Forcing through the rock that began to look more solid with each passing moment were to black wings that cut through the silence like sickles and pulling, tearing, and wrenching past the barrier that kept them there. Lunging forward, the cloud of smoky magic embraced the dark wingtips and pulled. Hard. The effort was painful, and waves of agony shot through the body of the night-dark mare being forced through layer after layer of cold, hard stone. She rolled onto the dusty surface, mouth open wheezing, raw, painful gasps for air that wasn't there. Her blue eyes blinked and slit-like pupils widened in the dark. Pulling her dusty body into a sitting position, she rubbed her head with a forehoof as if the gesture would massage away the dizzy feeling washing over her. Nightmare Moon found her movement to be stiff, but that would pass with everything else and she was experiencing: the awkward feeling of weightlessness, a drifting and achy mind, hooves that weren't sure where to step, and other details. Nightmare Moon ran a forehoof through her mane as blue as the midnight any earthbound creature could observe. The nearby cloud of magic entwined around her forehoof. Nightmare gazed at it, her expression unreadable. Then, she lit her horn, a thin, wavering amount of blue aura on the icy surface that only her divine nature shielded her from. Slowly, the cloud wrapped around her shivering form like a cloak and shining blue-purple with some light inside of itself before fading into her. She coughed harshly and pitched forward, but her hacking made no sound. Nightmare's mane stirred up dust that only worsened the fit. She shut her eyes, both to protect them from the dust in their current state and to block the glow of light coming from them. Her mane whipped wildly in a nonexistent wind as the rest of her power returned to her. When she opened her eyes and inhaled deeply — which was a purely reflexive action — she felt the presence of armor. An identical sensation on her head and hooves confirmed that her helm and boots had returned. However, not all the magic from the cloud had disappeared. Around her, the power obtained from the stars had been partially absorbed and altered to suit her. Radiating from her was a sheer cloud of iridescent sparkles and gleaming stardust. Subtle changes in the many colors dully flickering within the cloak of power that lingered around her, following her. Her entire form was awash with the sheer cloud of starry glitter that rippled with her movements that became more fluid with each step she took. Nightmare's legs finally felt as strong they should, but she gave them one last stretch before crouching down and launching herself into the air in one powerful leap, the magic that clung to her following and drifting across her wings as she flew for the first time since... When she closed her eyes she still saw her, the sun's goddess. Celestia. Finally free of her celestial prison, Nightmare Moon cut through the empty skies dividing her from the world her moon orbited, feelings of old ambition surging up again through space. Her ears pricked to hear the winds blowing across the vast, lonely sky. Their origins were lost to her, as where they would be once they circled her satellite and dispersed. It would take far too long for her to arrive quickly if she continued flying. Nightmare Moon smiled as few possibilities drifted through her mind, which was no longer burdened by any effects of her imprisonment. The gesture was predatory, malicious, and entirely devoid of mirth, but still managed to wedge itself in the cold and imposing presence that she radiated. Her horn lit up with turquoise aura once more, the soft, shimmering magic that saw fit to follow her and cloak her swirling with her horn. It would have many uses, but it was not a power to expend foolishly, for such colossal and fickle strength had a purpose. She had a plan. This power was her blade, though its strength exceeded anything likely to be found on the surface of her world... especially anything wielded by Celestia. Her world... Nightmare Moon scowled at her own folly, eyes losing some of their wicked light for a moment and filling with a touch of introspection and haughtiness as she gazed out into the sea of stars. It was not yet hers to bathe in the darkness lurking behind Celestia's curtain of sunny skies, to rebuild and rule. To redeem... But it would be. All she needed was to work on her plan. To return a favor, to enact revenge for everything that was still twisted up below the surface of her monstrous regality, to forget. To remember. Her indecision, her turmoil lied only with matters dealing with herself — knots of madness that she dare not untangle, were she even able to, knowing that they would bring forth a far worse pain. Those were the nasty strings she used to puppet herself on her every endeavor, tangling herself in something inescapable that she tried to bear. She spared a moment to reach up with her feathers and stroke her helm lightly. She was the mad conqueror, the usurper, and sometimes while in that floating rock, she thought herself the shadow of something. If she was now a carrion crow, she had once been a bluebird. Absentmindedly, her feather tips fell from the helm's cold surface. She knew that on the outside, she was like that helm: as cold as could be. But beneath the surface? She supposed she was also like the helm: shielding something toxic, something that channeled its hurt into something else. Crowns were a far heavier weight than any despair-goddess' war-helm, she thought — the first echo of her own voice since her escape — and then flew on. She had to hurry. She needed this night. There was a sun-goddess — a sister in name only — to overthrow, elements to take, and who knows what new foes might be awaiting her. Flying wouldn't do. She had told herself this. She could not simply fly down to the world. There would need to be a bridge, and a bridge there would be. Many things would lie underhoof in her future — castle halls, ruins, the unmarked graves of those who would oppose her, and the world she had to change, to make anew. But those would have to wait. Patience. That one word was a reminder of something of almost infinite benefit. Like time, it could aid her and unmake her. Celestia, the tyrant she knew, had so much time to act as well as to plan. Nightmare Moon had only the latter. She was going up against the chess master of Midgard, the goddess who walked among mortals instead of residing in some far-flung hidden kingdom. Celestia had resources other than herself, which was just as much of a strength as it was a weakness. For Nightmare's conquest, the kingdom Celestia so foolishly threw herself and her heart into would be a titanic weak point to strike, not to draw power from. Her horn continued to glow with power drawn from many things and she arranged herself so that she might take large strides on some invisible path. Beneath her hooves was a sound bursting from itself — the twinkling crystallization of glittering aura that was like a bridge of something greater than fireflies underhoof. The stardust that brushed against Nightmare Moon was neither cool nor warm but held some peculiar texture all its own, like feeling the sky itself. An entire rainbow of glittering beauty, the sky's own stretch of wildflowers, spread out before her... ...and at the end of it was the world, her crown jewel. Galloping forward, one step and another, Nightmare Moon pressed forward, listening for the clear shattering behind her of the bridge she had poured into collapsing into ashes that would drift elsewhere. She quickened her steps, each surer than the last. Winds whipped through her mane sooner than she anticipated, carrying the scent of water and she was reminded of memories — perhaps hers, she allotted them no owner — of what it was like to fly in storms of snow that dared to think they could best a goddess. She infused each step with magic, so she became just a blur, leaping, and bounding along. Everything passed before her. Time flew, but not as fast as she! Equestria unfolded in blurs of color and rushes of senses — wind, sky, clouds, mountain air. She had no time to process because... ...Because she felt herself dissolve again, rolling to a stop atop a storm cloud that she blended into all too perfectly. And before her, she sensed the jewel of a city that was not there a thousand years prior. Canterlote sat atop the mountain, a city of chiseled gray stone and werelit alleyways. Crystal mines gutted rock paths and mines lurked among city-places like open wounds. This was not Canterlote, or at least not the Canterlote she knew. But her magic-sight felt the pull of some magic like her own, and she reversed her form back to that of a mare. Sunfire glowed atop the balcony of a high tower on the castle like a distant star. So was that the tyrant's castle now? Was that where Celestia lived? Without a doubt. Nightmare, laughing, spread her wings. There was a sadness in the sound, but it wasn't for Celestia. She didn't know who it was for, and when she told herself she didn't care, Nightmare was lying. Her horn lit and the glittering cloud that had been following her swarmed to the blue aura, hungrily intertwining itself with hers and blurring her from mortal sight and the sight of all entirely as he took flight again. This time she could hear the sound of her wing-beats, though others could not. She was alone, which was not an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't a dreaded one either. Soon enough, she found herself perched behind a letter-writing goddess with a coat of white in a sleeping city, where she was surrounded by a flare of sunfire that only served to lead the Nightmare here, to an unguarded castle. She heard sobs, but the dark mare didn't care. Leaning forward, she allowed her veil to drop and whispered in her sister's ear: "Hello again." andThe grass crunched under Celestia's hooves. She tried to ignore the frost that was slick and sticky as it melted in the evening sun. Winter had never been her favorite season, but there wasn't time to dwell on that now. Her foe was approaching, and she approached quickly! Celestia's ears pricked forward. She ignored the gray-streaked sky that warped the sunset so. In her travels with Luna, it had merely become something she was accustomed to, along with harsher weather and long stretches of silence in the empty world they knew. Her magenta eyes looked to the lower ground. Above the frost-covered foothills of the wilds south of the Vanhoover Marshes. Everything is naught but wilds these days, she thought. Some bitterness, however slight lurked in the words she dare not speak and her expression was contorted into something that spoke of her true age of centuries instead of her physical appearance as an unmarked white Alicorn filly of ten mortal's years. She sighed and tried to concentrate. Hadn't the sound of hoofsteps, quick and near-silent been coming from the heather in the foothills? She rolled her withers and stretched out her wings, pinkish flight feathers gleaming proudly on the swan-like pair that dwarfed her sister's. The gesture was mostly for show; she found the increasing size of her wings to be impractical for such an untrained youth to fly with. Perhaps in time she would master the skies and soar with the sickly-looking sunsets of the wild world she had roamed for so long, but she had a dreadful feeling that she still had a lot of growing to do. For now, she was content to be the war-queen of realms that lingered only in her imagination: marble-white walls that stretched above trees and sky-high spires touched with gold. Things like this made sparring more than standing on the lonely hills and tasting the salty air of some distant, westward ocean that they had strayed from. She had always liked the ocean and the miles of empty sand that divided it from the land, eroding with the push and pull of the tides. Celestia thought that if they were to ever settle anywhere, beaches would not be a bad place to live. The ocean sounded like it was singing and every night she liked to watch the sun swim below the churning waters of the horizon and bob back up in the morning. The sound of wind whooshing behind her brought her back to the present. With all the grace her gangly limbs could muster, she whirled around with all the dancing skill she could recall from castles long deserted and the silent approval of her mother's smile. Her thick multi-colored mane, which always hung long and loose flew with her. It whipped in a sudden breeze, and she looked up- Luna flew in the sky where Celestia dare not follow, a grin on her face, and a stick gripped in her magic. Celestia squinted and noticed that in her left forehoof, Luna gripped the sword-length stick she always dubbed with various names that she insisted were 'honorable' for such a fine 'blade' that was really no more than a stick distinguished from Celestia's by the bold stripes burned into the half that Luna liked to hold when her magical grip faltered. Which meant that the plain stick that she held in her magic was Celestia's and the one that she had been holding... Celestia made an exaggerated scowl and scrunched up her muzzle, pretending to look haughty and upset. "Luna!" Celestia groaned after calling her little sister's name. She should have been paying better attention. What kind of warrior-queen got so lost in the reverie that her weapon would be stolen from her so easily by a usurper's magic? It was absolutely awful. Next time, she wouldn't let her sister sneak up on her like that. Her younger sister grinned, her bright white smile and light blue coat like a beacon against the backdrop of the frosty moors. Celestia couldn't help but smile too, watching the sun continue to fall below the horizon, bumbling among clouds on its descent. Orange intertwined with dull silver and dusty, washed-out rosy hues overtook the last scraps of pale-white blue that had been a crisp, cloudless day. "Luna, come down here!" Celestia called, a hint of bossiness in her words, though her tone was not unkind. Luna smiled even wider, her grin that of any energetic, goofy filly. She flew down to meet her sister, folding her smaller wings with ease. Celestia looked down at the little filly who eagerly galloped toward her, duel wielding the two pony-length sticks as she approached her elder sister with mischief in her eyes. In a moment, Luna had abandoned any balance or steadiness in her gait and was bounding toward her elder sister with rambunctious glee. "Luna, wait!" Luna's horn kept glowing, but her grin vanished for a moment and she skidded to halt right in front of her older sister. The frost underhoof made wet, squelching crunches so that Luna's legs, now fuzzy with the beginnings of an unruly winter coat. Her bobbed blue mane, as bright as a clear summer afternoon swayed with her. Celestia winced, taking a large step to the side while gesturing frantically with a forehoof. She silently thanked herself for whatever nimbleness she was still able to manage, but opened her mouth and turned to speak to Luna, but a shriek came out instead. Her little sister, only appearing to look like a six-year-old mortal, just barely came up to the middle of Celestia's equally fuzzy chest — but the sticks she held in the arriving dusk sure didn't! "Luna!" Celestia repeated, both nervous and indignant as her usually calm voice grew as stern and shrill as she would allow it. Luna's response was to balk at the sudden change in tone. Celestia never raised her voice at her unless something was very, very wrong. She lifted one of the blunt-ended and thick sticks into the air, hoisting it higher with her budding magic. Turquoise aura surged and sparked with far more power than any unicorn pony could ever hope to have, dimming and growing as the young Alicorn still tried to concentrate on maintaining her magic, not yet able to use her power so subconsciously and measure how much she expended. Without a proper teacher, some feats and techniques proved to be hard for both her and Celestia, who was still looking at her with something between alarm and sisterly disapproval. "That could have taken an eye out!" BurningFrom where she was pinned to the ground with magic, Princess Celestia stared up at the mare who stood above her. The dark intruder gazed at her with such malice, ignoring all protests of the frantic mare she had pinned down, who made no move against her. The world around them was blurred with only their bold forms remaining distinct in a world of night and haze. Celestia had watched the darker mare's horn glow with the magic that plunged them into this place, the small cloud of magic like a pet nebula aiding her in the conquest she was attempting in silence. The balcony still felt solid beneath Celestia's back, though she seemed to be stuck in a state that bordered on a dream. Celestia had been unable to grab anything to take with her before she heard that chilling voice whisper a greeting that bore no warmth... ...Well, she had been able to pull one thing with her before she was dragged into this place-in-between places. Lighting her horn with a thin flicker of aura as another's clawed at her own throat, Celestia levitated a scrap of paper over from where she had frantically clutched her testament to her sister. Her eyes had already begun to water. "Luna," she croaked, "l-look, there's a l-letter for you—" She could pull herself out of this, it wasn't as much of a predicament as it looked to be. Or felt to be, even if Celestia could swear that all the world's weight had shifted to her. Her eyes, still wide with disbelief at the sight of her, the one she thought was gone forever in the depths of madness and locked so far away, were panicked and teary. She still watched as the silent mare who stood above her snatched the letter with disdain. Celestia struggled to breathe for more than one reason as she watched her sister tear it open and glance at the contents with those cruel, demonic eyes that weren't hers. They couldn't be. Long ago, they had been blue. Or green. Celestia wasn't entirely able to decide, and her sister's eyes were always looking somewhere else. Perhaps they had been both colors? The blue of the sky and the green of the world they walked. She remembered how happy they could be, how filled with a wonder that didn't look to be possible, and as time rolled on, how miserable... ...She remembered how she, ages ago, wanted all that wonder to vanish and for her little sister to be less little, to grow up... ...There were so many fights that shouldn't have happened. They were both in such horrible places, but it had only taken all of this and a thousand years more to realize just what she had done. All the years of aching loss were just to attempt to come to terms with what had happened. She didn't want to remember screaming at a mare not yet grown that she didn't want to be her sister anymore. But she did. She remembered ignoring her. Forgetting her. Things that shouldn't have happened. Things that had happened. Celestia didn't want to remember them any longer. She poured them into that letter, the one that now sat in the magical grip of the despairing goddess who stood far taller than her little sister did, even when she had sat on a throne next to hers, grown-up and forgotten by the one who promised to always be there for her. For them both. She tried to pull her slipping mind and swimming vision out of dark unconsciousness, if only so she could watch as Luna read over the contents — or maybe she just skimmed them — with disgust, anger. Then, in one flippant gesture crumpled the entire thing and tossed it into the air... and in a second that felt like forever, lanced the small piece of paper with a bolt of white-hot lightning. With a hoarse scream, Celestia wrenched herself from the grip of her sister — her sister, who she should have loved and appreciated ages ago — and tried to levitate the scattered ashes that rained down into something like it had once been, but all in vain. That letter had been the only honest thing Celestia had done in centuries. Behind her, she finally heard her sister's twisted voice again. "Do you really think I could believe something like that? I follow the word of no tyrant, and do you think just because we share blood means I will believe you? Or trust you? You are nothing but a liar, Celestia!" Celestia managed to land with wobbly legs on the phantom balcony to look upon her sister with doleful eyes. "Luna..." "We are not sisters; even the Elements you no longer display appear to agree." "Luna, Luna... please just let—" "Nightmare Moon is not your sister," the dark mare replied with narrowed eyes, cold blue meeting watery magenta. Celestia tried to stare past the venom in her slitted gaze. She tried to think of Luna and found no difficulty in doing so. Luna was all she could think about. Visions of an introverted and wonderstruck blue filly who grew into a tall, near-silent mare clouded every part of her mind. "Luna, somepony in Ponyville can help you—" Celestia found herself cut off by an arc of blue magic that grew outward from Luna. Her little sister's horn was glowing with amounts of magic that cast dramatic shadows across her black coat in the night as she leaped into flight once more. One thing was clear; there would be no talks, no peace. Tears finally sprung in Celestia's eyes and sobs tried to force their way out of her throat, causing her chest to rise and fall rapidly. Luna almost took her eye out. Luna burned her letter. Luna wanted to fight her. Celestia couldn't bear to fight her again. Her golden aura disappeared and the ashes of her letter dissolved, passing through barriers and slipping into the physical world, where they fell to the castle grounds surrounding Canterlot. Luna was beyond any help she could give. But Celestia loved her anyway. ... Trickles of sunfire streamed behind Celestia as she flew, forming ribbons of light that were bold, bright, beautiful... and incredibly destructive. A canvas of stars was her backdrop, but Luna's strange magic made it feel so far away. She tried to hide the creeping exhaustion that was trying to smash through her shaky resolve. How long had it been since she last used her magic to combat another divine like this? The bright gold-white light that followed her like streamers offered no answer. She had been unable to fight Luna the first time, but if her recollection in the heat of the moment served, it was for mostly emotional reasons. She had started to crack then, crying like she hadn't since she was a filly, even though the aftermath would prove to be worse... She had resorted to the Elements then, and before that, there had been Discord. They had fought him once before they sought out the aide of something external of themselves. Before Discord and the Elements, there had been Sombra, the tyrant king of the hidden Crystal Empire even they had known nothing of. That was when she last recalled her magic being used so violently. After Discord, her magic no longer burned as fiercely and violently as the magic of the sun's god should. In youth, she had always been a reckless pyromancer, and that had terrified her. But at the Crystal Empire, she recalled some foe even far before that — there was Tirek, whom she had seen at such a young age in horrible times. She fled, hoping to save others... and in the tyrant's destruction, she saw that the Tribal Era needed no witches to create a world where ponies would burn. She had lost it at the Empire — the thought of another tyrant, another doomed nation... ...the thought of dooming her own nation in the present was too much to bear. They had lost there. But now, it was just her. Her against Luna, in a fight she refused to throw herself into. Her magic felt so weak, but was that just an effect of her faltering resolve? Celestia winced — both because she hadn't been the better at magical matters and because she felt a bolt of Luna's burn her right hindleg from behind. She didn't cry out, but the pain of a direct hit hurt it more than it should have. She suspected the sting came more from knowing her attacker's identity rather than the burns that seared at the slightest stretch of her leg. She smelled something that was undoubtedly her charred flesh and felt her stomach drop. It was not something she ever wanted to know again, ponies burning. There also appeared to be no end to the little world that Luna had woven, trapping her here like a moth in a jar. The world outside was reflected through a thick glass that warped her perception as she beat her fragile little body into the hard surface, again and again, waiting for the icy cold of the smooth and unforgiving surface to soak into her as she fell. Celestia yelped, but her sister's name, and it sounded like a desperate plea she couldn't stop once the tears had started, pleading she was in there as well. She heard the air slice around her and a dark blur cut through the night, the shadows of mountains like teeth standing behind her. She had no night vision like her sister, she flew blindly into the night except for what her sunfire — a power exclusive to her — could illuminate causing her body to be striped with chains of shadows that showed the necklace of bruises above and around her usual golden one. It appeared she would not be making it to the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville tonight. ... It was hard for Celestia to see past the tears in her eyes. She knew she couldn't blink, not for one moment. But Luna was right in front of her, with her cloud of magic that followed her like a familiar still hanging about her form and merging with her magic when she made it, giving the manifestation of magic the illusion of being a creature that had a will of its own. Her horn was a-glow with blue once more, but then again, Celestia could recall when Luna's horn wasn't lit. "Luna," she pleaded again. "Luna, I'm sorry, if you just go to Ponyville—" "Quiet!" Luna hissed baring fangs. "Your pleading sister act will not work this time. Do you think I remember nothing about you? All you ever wanted was to be adored and to have a crown sit on your head." "Oh Luna, I've changed! Please, you're my sister. By your stars, Luna, I don't w-want to fight you!" Luna scowled and dodged the warmth of one of Celestia's light ribbons. Had she stayed in place, she could have destroyed it quite easily. With Celestia's waning will, her magic went with her. "Please Luna!" Celestia sobbed, trying to make her choked breaths take the form of the name that felt like dust in her mouth — strange and foreign after centuries of going unused. This didn't go unnoticed to Luna, who looked upon Celestia with nothing but contempt that was clear in the dark. Moonlight reflected off her fangs, which glinted in the dark. "Look at you — pretending to be different, to be like you were ages ago. Do you really think anypony who knew better could fall for your nice queen act now? You remember nothing! And look at all this—" She cut herself off abruptly and flew over to Celestia, appearing to dissolve into the dark as she dived, with only the whooshing of wind and shine of sparkles in the dark to indicate where she was. When Luna was still in front of Celestia, the former recoiled at the sudden lack of any distance between them. She could feel the warmth of life from Luna despite how dark and cold she was, like the moon that was now free of scars in the sky. Luna's eyes held no mercy, but Celestia didn't notice. She watched the edge of Luna's helm, so fitting for a cruel persona but not her baby sister. This wasn't, couldn't be her little baby sister. Her horn died, and the two of them were shrouded in gloom. Celestia couldn't will herself to reach out and grab her, to never let her baby sister go ever again. She needed her back. She wanted her back. It had to only be seconds passing, but each moment she had a harder time breathing and the bruises across her throat pained her felt like a miniature eternity that she could only spend focusing on Luna because no words would come, only her name on repeat in Celestia's mind. Her Luna. Not the Luna of the moon, the Luna who sat forlornly upon the throne of old, not the Luna who vanished under darkness- Luna didn't vanish. Luna was here. Luna was talking to her. Her Luna. Her Luna. Luna. Luna. Luna. Luna. She watched as runes flickered across her baby sister's helm and her wicked smile that bore so much resemblance to a snarl. And she watched Luna open her mouth... ...And she was speaking to her! Not fighting! She was talking to her sister again. "Look at what you've done, Celestia." She said the name — her name — so that it hissed like acid. "You made the pretty little kingdom that was always yours in your image. You erased history! YOU ERASED ME! YOU FOOLISH, DESPERATE, AND BROKEN MARE! YOU COULDN'T GO A SINGLE DAY WITHOUT BEING ADORED AND LOVED AND SOMEHOW—" Celestia drew back from Luna's screams. They rang in her ears, her being. They were broken screams and angry screams and she couldn't take the thought of Luna being hurt, not again. "—SOMEHOW YOU'RE OKAY! WITHOUT ME YOU'VE BEEN DOING FINE!" "I did it all for you! I helped them be better for you, for us! P-Please, Luna—" Luna drew back her lip, her shimmering aura sparkling around her as she gave a snarl, one unlike anything Celestia had ever heard. It was like one thousand years alone delivered in one gesture that felt like it was freezing her from within. She looked up at Luna, for just one second they were still and looking at one another. Baleful eyes that could belong to no equine met watery magenta drained of all inner resolve. Celestia shakily held out her hoof in a gesture of everything she wanted to be better between them. In the split second she thought she saw Luna smile at her gesture of sisterhood, Celestia felt an ember of hope stir in the ashes within her. It died the moment Luna lunged, and the world shattered with it. ... Under the sun's surface was an agonizing place to be, and that was for a goddess as Celestia was. She knew that no mortal could survive this great burning. It was even worse than when Luna had pulled her physical form apart with all the power that the iridescent cloud of aura gave her. Fire ripped through every part of her near-shattered being that could withstand the heat through divinity and the sun's connection to her. Though she was the master of the great ball of fire, she was no longer in a position to mover her solar pawn when her very existence and her sister's power weighed her sun below the horizon. And there was the chance it might not be seen again... Fire scorched Celestia's disembodied and anchored soul at the thought. Her entire being tried to reel away in pain, but only sank further into pain and heat. That false stardust - wherever Luna had gotten it, the stuff had enabled her to forge such a place as the prison of the tyrant king was forged without the aid of the Elements. Would she be here too long to help her little ponies? How much of her mind would be left when and if she did get out? She didn't know and she didn't try to know. There was no hope. Celestia had never been the kind to earnestly believe in hope or faith. She believed in pawns and kings, rooks, and mages — all things that were so far away. Would Luna kill to meet her goal? It was not unlikely, before her banishment — a time that felt farther away with each torrent of pain that ripped through Celestia — she had been a skilled warrior and an even better mage. What would a life mean to Luna now? Celestia acknowledged no ignorance or uncertainty on her part, but let the questions echo through her even if they were to be unanswered. The Summer Celebration was her last chance. She had bought time for the only two who might be what it takes. There was Cadance, compassionate, and pure-hearted. The love she shared with her fiancé, Shining Armor, would no doubt see them through great struggles in the future. She may not have had the potential of a Faithful Student, but if any could lead ponies with the things she taught it would be loving, extroverted, and caring Cadance. She wasn't marked as any of the keys Celestia would need, but she was a true princess of Equestria. Ponies would follow her if the time for her to be a leader ever came. And then there was Twilight Sparkle. She had been groomed her entire life for this purpose, though she didn't know. The moment Celestia saw her mark she knew she had found the perfect pawn for her newest Faithful Student. Celestia knew that she would be the one to act as a vessel for the Spark of Magic. From that day when Celestia saw her as a little filly — and that amazing mark! — she had begun to plan the life of Twilight Sparkle in order to bring her to this point. She became a favored companion, impressionable, humble, and eager to work with Celestia and impress her. Trusting. She was the key, and a key Celestia had forged herself. But she was so far away, farther than ever, moving onward in relative ignorance of the situation, as was planned. And Celestia, through the fire that tore at her, managed to envision the quaint village of Ponyville, though she had only been there once or twice before her divinity kept the memory of the location crystal clear. She imagined Twilight trotting through the town square, with Spike at her side. Please, Twilight... Hurry... Author's Note Thanks for reading! If you liked this story... ~There's a group for this story 'verse with a timeline in the forum! ~There's a story with more of Celestia's letters right here. ~There's also some pre-NMM Luna stories. One! Two! Three! ~More NMM/Luna's banishment horsewords can be found here! ~An exploration of Celestia after Luna's banishment through horse poems is here!
BuildingAuthor's Note [Revised for print on 9/16/2020] Building The luminescent surface of the moon had been scarred with the image of her for far too long. The pale, cold surface had always been barren and pristine before she had been sealed away so long ago. Now that seal was coming undone. Time had run out. Cold air trembled and the silvery-white light of the moon wavered. Four invisible strings cast out from the moon ages ago pulled through the empty skies, as barren as the fair moon had once been. They were no longer threads of magic that barely managed to flow through the skies, needing to avoid anything that might hinder their movement and get in the way of their quest. Ages had passed. She had known none of it, but still felt time march on in its unending cycle that aided her as well. As the moon danced in the sky, the goddess within it who was locked below the ivory surface that shone so brightly knew that time had likely aided those who would oppose her as well. It would be foolish to think otherwise. She did not expect time to favor her — or any creature, pony, or otherwise — but it would be a lie to say that it hadn't granted her its own advantages. With the unknowing aid of time, her strings of magic grew to mighty chains so powerful anything that dared venture to the savage territory she had been forced into would be aware of the presence of some kind of power. But there was no one to visit. This was an unforgiving place and it would allow none but her kind to survive. Had any mortal creature been able to survive, there would be no point in their company. Mortals would only be able to wither where she merely lingered — and survived. No company was needed or desired by her anyway. Her years had dragged on in solitude that was as fragmented as she was. Chains of magic that leaked from seals she couldn't wrench herself from had snagged drifting lights, wrapping them in their own prisons and pulling the magic-laden wisps closer to the cool moon, where she dwelled in bitterness. Gradually, their strength waned while hers grew, but there was still more power she could obtain from the drifting magical lights that drifted no more. It was a power she aimed to sap from them now. Even from within the confines of her celestial prison that was colder than any earthly place, she thought that she could feel the warmth of the werelight-waste from inside the icy nothingness. She had become accustomed to the sensation once the Elements' Rainbow of Light had burned her physical form away and left her here. But, oh, how she liked to pretend that she could still feel something external of herself. Things like the feel of grass under hooves and wind in one's mane. The turning of spell book pages in darkened corridors and the song of stars on the quietest nights, when silence managed to drown out even the chirping of crickets in the grass. That was just one of the many ways in which night opened the curtains upon the world to reveal its truth and life — something the day could never do. Instead, she only felt the crushing weight of accumulated emotion. There were pain and anger, a particularly toxic shade of vindictiveness she gave up trying to push away. It was embraced instead as if that could offer some cure to its intensity. It never did. She waited and moved about as only a creature in her state could, an invisible ocean that only roiled in ways none could see. And she denied missing those things and recalled bitter stabs of other memories that soaked over the things she most certainly did not miss. There was the coldness of a sister chilled by the lands up north, bearing a heart of ice that hadn't been there before. The folly of ponies who dug their own graves and fought pointless wars over who had wings, horns, and who didn't. Those foolish mortals trampled everything between them and below them so that nothing remained but their decay. Unforgettable was the smothering stone walls of a castle that had been atop something that meant more — or it had, to her and her alone. She recalled a crown that had never suited her, and that they knew it too. With the pitiful knowledge of the mortals was the ostracism and shunning of what little she had: starlight, moonlight, and dark that outlined over everything they never wanted to see. So, she had exchanged the crown she had so reluctantly accepted for the helm of a war-bringer. If they wanted to scream against the heuristic of life that her night was, she would force it upon them. As the world she could no longer see kept on spinning, the sun and moon cycling around it, she took to lying about... things. Small details about somepony, anything to make her mask less painful on the outside and dull anything on the inside. It didn't work as well as one might have hoped, but hope was something that she had lost long ago. And when the last grains of sand fell in an hourglass she had known and the keys of starlight were at last obtained, she asked herself who she was, completing the finishing touch in a lie that had been ripped and sewn from magic and resentment. She told herself who she was. She told herself that she was Nightmare Moon. ... Glowing white stone that knew no movement suddenly shook from within. Cracks erupted on the surface and made no sound. The once-drifting lights, the false stars made of the accumulated magic of countless werelights that had drifted ever upward and mixed with whatever debris they had found. Now the anchored orbs truly felt the titanic weight of the goddess' want. They were overwhelmed by the desire for revenge, for freedom, for anything. Even if they had no lives or mind of their own, these objects — four false stars, burning bright in the sky — managed to sense something. That was something dark, something lurking and boiling beneath the moon's surface as the magic of hundreds of thousands -— and even more, were it to be counted — ponies was dragged toward the scarred surface faster than ever before by unbreakable chains. The added weight of all the light-bringing enchantments from a million artifacts of power, some as plain as a wizard's staff and others as rare as a proud sorcerer's magnum opus that still managed to bring the same light. Everything flew towards the moon whether it was the quick-to-die residue of a young foal's werelight, or the practiced and full-fledged flicker of an adventurer's illumination spell. They crashed into the moon, engulfing the surface is rushing, monstrous waves of magic that were drained of all individual aura hues so that the pearly, bright, translucent light was not seen by any who inhabited the world below. If any creature at all were to look up at the sky, they would not see a collision of awesome power... ...just four 'stars' winking out. The magic washed over the surface, seeking out the cracks erupting across the landscape as the magic of another, a goddess below the surface, drew it closer. Lingering over newly made fissures, clouds of power lingered at the edge. Then, the humming and glittering aura that had long departed their original owners before disappearing. From the depths, a cloud of bluish-purple smoke, dense, opaque, and sparkling was lifted. It floated aimlessly, though with some mind of its own before engulfing the rest of the swarm of magic that had collected. It writhed and fought against nothing at all, the bluish and hazy scrap winning in the end — as if there had ever been any doubt that it could. Swirling once more the maelstrom of magic collapsed in on itself and settled closer to the moon's surface, stretching itself into a thread and stitching together all the jagged tears in the dusty, cold surface and brushing it back to a clean white state smoother than it had been before. It looked silvery and ghost-thin — like something would just fall through it and end up... nowhere, in some white space with no up and down or beginning or end. Solid or transparent? There wasn't an answer. The magic settled nearby, stirring aimlessly on occasion. Waiting. Blooming on the softly lit and the sewn surface of the stone was an outline of black, thin lines that grew darker by the second. The blue magic quivered slightly as if detecting something. Like a picture being drawn by an invisible hoof, more lines started emerging, forming contours and details. The view of a creature's back and wings that were caught mid-fold. Feathers were drawn and a black coat was shaded — or perhaps revealed — by the increasing amount of details that emerged, drawing up somepony from below the surface. Forcing through the rock that began to look more solid with each passing moment were to black wings that cut through the silence like sickles and pulling, tearing, and wrenching past the barrier that kept them there. Lunging forward, the cloud of smoky magic embraced the dark wingtips and pulled. Hard. The effort was painful, and waves of agony shot through the body of the night-dark mare being forced through layer after layer of cold, hard stone. She rolled onto the dusty surface, mouth open wheezing, raw, painful gasps for air that wasn't there. Her blue eyes blinked and slit-like pupils widened in the dark. Pulling her dusty body into a sitting position, she rubbed her head with a forehoof as if the gesture would massage away the dizzy feeling washing over her. Nightmare Moon found her movement to be stiff, but that would pass with everything else and she was experiencing: the awkward feeling of weightlessness, a drifting and achy mind, hooves that weren't sure where to step, and other details. Nightmare Moon ran a forehoof through her mane as blue as the midnight any earthbound creature could observe. The nearby cloud of magic entwined around her forehoof. Nightmare gazed at it, her expression unreadable. Then, she lit her horn, a thin, wavering amount of blue aura on the icy surface that only her divine nature shielded her from. Slowly, the cloud wrapped around her shivering form like a cloak and shining blue-purple with some light inside of itself before fading into her. She coughed harshly and pitched forward, but her hacking made no sound. Nightmare's mane stirred up dust that only worsened the fit. She shut her eyes, both to protect them from the dust in their current state and to block the glow of light coming from them. Her mane whipped wildly in a nonexistent wind as the rest of her power returned to her. When she opened her eyes and inhaled deeply — which was a purely reflexive action — she felt the presence of armor. An identical sensation on her head and hooves confirmed that her helm and boots had returned. However, not all the magic from the cloud had disappeared. Around her, the power obtained from the stars had been partially absorbed and altered to suit her. Radiating from her was a sheer cloud of iridescent sparkles and gleaming stardust. Subtle changes in the many colors dully flickering within the cloak of power that lingered around her, following her. Her entire form was awash with the sheer cloud of starry glitter that rippled with her movements that became more fluid with each step she took. Nightmare's legs finally felt as strong they should, but she gave them one last stretch before crouching down and launching herself into the air in one powerful leap, the magic that clung to her following and drifting across her wings as she flew for the first time since... When she closed her eyes she still saw her, the sun's goddess. Celestia. Finally free of her celestial prison, Nightmare Moon cut through the empty skies dividing her from the world her moon orbited, feelings of old ambition surging up again through space. Her ears pricked to hear the winds blowing across the vast, lonely sky. Their origins were lost to her, as where they would be once they circled her satellite and dispersed. It would take far too long for her to arrive quickly if she continued flying. Nightmare Moon smiled as few possibilities drifted through her mind, which was no longer burdened by any effects of her imprisonment. The gesture was predatory, malicious, and entirely devoid of mirth, but still managed to wedge itself in the cold and imposing presence that she radiated. Her horn lit up with turquoise aura once more, the soft, shimmering magic that saw fit to follow her and cloak her swirling with her horn. It would have many uses, but it was not a power to expend foolishly, for such colossal and fickle strength had a purpose. She had a plan. This power was her blade, though its strength exceeded anything likely to be found on the surface of her world... especially anything wielded by Celestia. Her world... Nightmare Moon scowled at her own folly, eyes losing some of their wicked light for a moment and filling with a touch of introspection and haughtiness as she gazed out into the sea of stars. It was not yet hers to bathe in the darkness lurking behind Celestia's curtain of sunny skies, to rebuild and rule. To redeem... But it would be. All she needed was to work on her plan. To return a favor, to enact revenge for everything that was still twisted up below the surface of her monstrous regality, to forget. To remember. Her indecision, her turmoil lied only with matters dealing with herself — knots of madness that she dare not untangle, were she even able to, knowing that they would bring forth a far worse pain. Those were the nasty strings she used to puppet herself on her every endeavor, tangling herself in something inescapable that she tried to bear. She spared a moment to reach up with her feathers and stroke her helm lightly. She was the mad conqueror, the usurper, and sometimes while in that floating rock, she thought herself the shadow of something. If she was now a carrion crow, she had once been a bluebird. Absentmindedly, her feather tips fell from the helm's cold surface. She knew that on the outside, she was like that helm: as cold as could be. But beneath the surface? She supposed she was also like the helm: shielding something toxic, something that channeled its hurt into something else. Crowns were a far heavier weight than any despair-goddess' war-helm, she thought — the first echo of her own voice since her escape — and then flew on. She had to hurry. She needed this night. There was a sun-goddess — a sister in name only — to overthrow, elements to take, and who knows what new foes might be awaiting her. Flying wouldn't do. She had told herself this. She could not simply fly down to the world. There would need to be a bridge, and a bridge there would be. Many things would lie underhoof in her future — castle halls, ruins, the unmarked graves of those who would oppose her, and the world she had to change, to make anew. But those would have to wait. Patience. That one word was a reminder of something of almost infinite benefit. Like time, it could aid her and unmake her. Celestia, the tyrant she knew, had so much time to act as well as to plan. Nightmare Moon had only the latter. She was going up against the chess master of Midgard, the goddess who walked among mortals instead of residing in some far-flung hidden kingdom. Celestia had resources other than herself, which was just as much of a strength as it was a weakness. For Nightmare's conquest, the kingdom Celestia so foolishly threw herself and her heart into would be a titanic weak point to strike, not to draw power from. Her horn continued to glow with power drawn from many things and she arranged herself so that she might take large strides on some invisible path. Beneath her hooves was a sound bursting from itself — the twinkling crystallization of glittering aura that was like a bridge of something greater than fireflies underhoof. The stardust that brushed against Nightmare Moon was neither cool nor warm but held some peculiar texture all its own, like feeling the sky itself. An entire rainbow of glittering beauty, the sky's own stretch of wildflowers, spread out before her... ...and at the end of it was the world, her crown jewel. Galloping forward, one step and another, Nightmare Moon pressed forward, listening for the clear shattering behind her of the bridge she had poured into collapsing into ashes that would drift elsewhere. She quickened her steps, each surer than the last. Winds whipped through her mane sooner than she anticipated, carrying the scent of water and she was reminded of memories — perhaps hers, she allotted them no owner — of what it was like to fly in storms of snow that dared to think they could best a goddess. She infused each step with magic, so she became just a blur, leaping, and bounding along. Everything passed before her. Time flew, but not as fast as she! Equestria unfolded in blurs of color and rushes of senses — wind, sky, clouds, mountain air. She had no time to process because... ...Because she felt herself dissolve again, rolling to a stop atop a storm cloud that she blended into all too perfectly. And before her, she sensed the jewel of a city that was not there a thousand years prior. Canterlote sat atop the mountain, a city of chiseled gray stone and werelit alleyways. Crystal mines gutted rock paths and mines lurked among city-places like open wounds. This was not Canterlote, or at least not the Canterlote she knew. But her magic-sight felt the pull of some magic like her own, and she reversed her form back to that of a mare. Sunfire glowed atop the balcony of a high tower on the castle like a distant star. So was that the tyrant's castle now? Was that where Celestia lived? Without a doubt. Nightmare, laughing, spread her wings. There was a sadness in the sound, but it wasn't for Celestia. She didn't know who it was for, and when she told herself she didn't care, Nightmare was lying. Her horn lit and the glittering cloud that had been following her swarmed to the blue aura, hungrily intertwining itself with hers and blurring her from mortal sight and the sight of all entirely as he took flight again. This time she could hear the sound of her wing-beats, though others could not. She was alone, which was not an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't a dreaded one either. Soon enough, she found herself perched behind a letter-writing goddess with a coat of white in a sleeping city, where she was surrounded by a flare of sunfire that only served to lead the Nightmare here, to an unguarded castle. She heard sobs, but the dark mare didn't care. Leaning forward, she allowed her veil to drop and whispered in her sister's ear: "Hello again."
andThe grass crunched under Celestia's hooves. She tried to ignore the frost that was slick and sticky as it melted in the evening sun. Winter had never been her favorite season, but there wasn't time to dwell on that now. Her foe was approaching, and she approached quickly! Celestia's ears pricked forward. She ignored the gray-streaked sky that warped the sunset so. In her travels with Luna, it had merely become something she was accustomed to, along with harsher weather and long stretches of silence in the empty world they knew. Her magenta eyes looked to the lower ground. Above the frost-covered foothills of the wilds south of the Vanhoover Marshes. Everything is naught but wilds these days, she thought. Some bitterness, however slight lurked in the words she dare not speak and her expression was contorted into something that spoke of her true age of centuries instead of her physical appearance as an unmarked white Alicorn filly of ten mortal's years. She sighed and tried to concentrate. Hadn't the sound of hoofsteps, quick and near-silent been coming from the heather in the foothills? She rolled her withers and stretched out her wings, pinkish flight feathers gleaming proudly on the swan-like pair that dwarfed her sister's. The gesture was mostly for show; she found the increasing size of her wings to be impractical for such an untrained youth to fly with. Perhaps in time she would master the skies and soar with the sickly-looking sunsets of the wild world she had roamed for so long, but she had a dreadful feeling that she still had a lot of growing to do. For now, she was content to be the war-queen of realms that lingered only in her imagination: marble-white walls that stretched above trees and sky-high spires touched with gold. Things like this made sparring more than standing on the lonely hills and tasting the salty air of some distant, westward ocean that they had strayed from. She had always liked the ocean and the miles of empty sand that divided it from the land, eroding with the push and pull of the tides. Celestia thought that if they were to ever settle anywhere, beaches would not be a bad place to live. The ocean sounded like it was singing and every night she liked to watch the sun swim below the churning waters of the horizon and bob back up in the morning. The sound of wind whooshing behind her brought her back to the present. With all the grace her gangly limbs could muster, she whirled around with all the dancing skill she could recall from castles long deserted and the silent approval of her mother's smile. Her thick multi-colored mane, which always hung long and loose flew with her. It whipped in a sudden breeze, and she looked up- Luna flew in the sky where Celestia dare not follow, a grin on her face, and a stick gripped in her magic. Celestia squinted and noticed that in her left forehoof, Luna gripped the sword-length stick she always dubbed with various names that she insisted were 'honorable' for such a fine 'blade' that was really no more than a stick distinguished from Celestia's by the bold stripes burned into the half that Luna liked to hold when her magical grip faltered. Which meant that the plain stick that she held in her magic was Celestia's and the one that she had been holding... Celestia made an exaggerated scowl and scrunched up her muzzle, pretending to look haughty and upset. "Luna!" Celestia groaned after calling her little sister's name. She should have been paying better attention. What kind of warrior-queen got so lost in the reverie that her weapon would be stolen from her so easily by a usurper's magic? It was absolutely awful. Next time, she wouldn't let her sister sneak up on her like that. Her younger sister grinned, her bright white smile and light blue coat like a beacon against the backdrop of the frosty moors. Celestia couldn't help but smile too, watching the sun continue to fall below the horizon, bumbling among clouds on its descent. Orange intertwined with dull silver and dusty, washed-out rosy hues overtook the last scraps of pale-white blue that had been a crisp, cloudless day. "Luna, come down here!" Celestia called, a hint of bossiness in her words, though her tone was not unkind. Luna smiled even wider, her grin that of any energetic, goofy filly. She flew down to meet her sister, folding her smaller wings with ease. Celestia looked down at the little filly who eagerly galloped toward her, duel wielding the two pony-length sticks as she approached her elder sister with mischief in her eyes. In a moment, Luna had abandoned any balance or steadiness in her gait and was bounding toward her elder sister with rambunctious glee. "Luna, wait!" Luna's horn kept glowing, but her grin vanished for a moment and she skidded to halt right in front of her older sister. The frost underhoof made wet, squelching crunches so that Luna's legs, now fuzzy with the beginnings of an unruly winter coat. Her bobbed blue mane, as bright as a clear summer afternoon swayed with her. Celestia winced, taking a large step to the side while gesturing frantically with a forehoof. She silently thanked herself for whatever nimbleness she was still able to manage, but opened her mouth and turned to speak to Luna, but a shriek came out instead. Her little sister, only appearing to look like a six-year-old mortal, just barely came up to the middle of Celestia's equally fuzzy chest — but the sticks she held in the arriving dusk sure didn't! "Luna!" Celestia repeated, both nervous and indignant as her usually calm voice grew as stern and shrill as she would allow it. Luna's response was to balk at the sudden change in tone. Celestia never raised her voice at her unless something was very, very wrong. She lifted one of the blunt-ended and thick sticks into the air, hoisting it higher with her budding magic. Turquoise aura surged and sparked with far more power than any unicorn pony could ever hope to have, dimming and growing as the young Alicorn still tried to concentrate on maintaining her magic, not yet able to use her power so subconsciously and measure how much she expended. Without a proper teacher, some feats and techniques proved to be hard for both her and Celestia, who was still looking at her with something between alarm and sisterly disapproval. "That could have taken an eye out!"
BurningFrom where she was pinned to the ground with magic, Princess Celestia stared up at the mare who stood above her. The dark intruder gazed at her with such malice, ignoring all protests of the frantic mare she had pinned down, who made no move against her. The world around them was blurred with only their bold forms remaining distinct in a world of night and haze. Celestia had watched the darker mare's horn glow with the magic that plunged them into this place, the small cloud of magic like a pet nebula aiding her in the conquest she was attempting in silence. The balcony still felt solid beneath Celestia's back, though she seemed to be stuck in a state that bordered on a dream. Celestia had been unable to grab anything to take with her before she heard that chilling voice whisper a greeting that bore no warmth... ...Well, she had been able to pull one thing with her before she was dragged into this place-in-between places. Lighting her horn with a thin flicker of aura as another's clawed at her own throat, Celestia levitated a scrap of paper over from where she had frantically clutched her testament to her sister. Her eyes had already begun to water. "Luna," she croaked, "l-look, there's a l-letter for you—" She could pull herself out of this, it wasn't as much of a predicament as it looked to be. Or felt to be, even if Celestia could swear that all the world's weight had shifted to her. Her eyes, still wide with disbelief at the sight of her, the one she thought was gone forever in the depths of madness and locked so far away, were panicked and teary. She still watched as the silent mare who stood above her snatched the letter with disdain. Celestia struggled to breathe for more than one reason as she watched her sister tear it open and glance at the contents with those cruel, demonic eyes that weren't hers. They couldn't be. Long ago, they had been blue. Or green. Celestia wasn't entirely able to decide, and her sister's eyes were always looking somewhere else. Perhaps they had been both colors? The blue of the sky and the green of the world they walked. She remembered how happy they could be, how filled with a wonder that didn't look to be possible, and as time rolled on, how miserable... ...She remembered how she, ages ago, wanted all that wonder to vanish and for her little sister to be less little, to grow up... ...There were so many fights that shouldn't have happened. They were both in such horrible places, but it had only taken all of this and a thousand years more to realize just what she had done. All the years of aching loss were just to attempt to come to terms with what had happened. She didn't want to remember screaming at a mare not yet grown that she didn't want to be her sister anymore. But she did. She remembered ignoring her. Forgetting her. Things that shouldn't have happened. Things that had happened. Celestia didn't want to remember them any longer. She poured them into that letter, the one that now sat in the magical grip of the despairing goddess who stood far taller than her little sister did, even when she had sat on a throne next to hers, grown-up and forgotten by the one who promised to always be there for her. For them both. She tried to pull her slipping mind and swimming vision out of dark unconsciousness, if only so she could watch as Luna read over the contents — or maybe she just skimmed them — with disgust, anger. Then, in one flippant gesture crumpled the entire thing and tossed it into the air... and in a second that felt like forever, lanced the small piece of paper with a bolt of white-hot lightning. With a hoarse scream, Celestia wrenched herself from the grip of her sister — her sister, who she should have loved and appreciated ages ago — and tried to levitate the scattered ashes that rained down into something like it had once been, but all in vain. That letter had been the only honest thing Celestia had done in centuries. Behind her, she finally heard her sister's twisted voice again. "Do you really think I could believe something like that? I follow the word of no tyrant, and do you think just because we share blood means I will believe you? Or trust you? You are nothing but a liar, Celestia!" Celestia managed to land with wobbly legs on the phantom balcony to look upon her sister with doleful eyes. "Luna..." "We are not sisters; even the Elements you no longer display appear to agree." "Luna, Luna... please just let—" "Nightmare Moon is not your sister," the dark mare replied with narrowed eyes, cold blue meeting watery magenta. Celestia tried to stare past the venom in her slitted gaze. She tried to think of Luna and found no difficulty in doing so. Luna was all she could think about. Visions of an introverted and wonderstruck blue filly who grew into a tall, near-silent mare clouded every part of her mind. "Luna, somepony in Ponyville can help you—" Celestia found herself cut off by an arc of blue magic that grew outward from Luna. Her little sister's horn was glowing with amounts of magic that cast dramatic shadows across her black coat in the night as she leaped into flight once more. One thing was clear; there would be no talks, no peace. Tears finally sprung in Celestia's eyes and sobs tried to force their way out of her throat, causing her chest to rise and fall rapidly. Luna almost took her eye out. Luna burned her letter. Luna wanted to fight her. Celestia couldn't bear to fight her again. Her golden aura disappeared and the ashes of her letter dissolved, passing through barriers and slipping into the physical world, where they fell to the castle grounds surrounding Canterlot. Luna was beyond any help she could give. But Celestia loved her anyway. ... Trickles of sunfire streamed behind Celestia as she flew, forming ribbons of light that were bold, bright, beautiful... and incredibly destructive. A canvas of stars was her backdrop, but Luna's strange magic made it feel so far away. She tried to hide the creeping exhaustion that was trying to smash through her shaky resolve. How long had it been since she last used her magic to combat another divine like this? The bright gold-white light that followed her like streamers offered no answer. She had been unable to fight Luna the first time, but if her recollection in the heat of the moment served, it was for mostly emotional reasons. She had started to crack then, crying like she hadn't since she was a filly, even though the aftermath would prove to be worse... She had resorted to the Elements then, and before that, there had been Discord. They had fought him once before they sought out the aide of something external of themselves. Before Discord and the Elements, there had been Sombra, the tyrant king of the hidden Crystal Empire even they had known nothing of. That was when she last recalled her magic being used so violently. After Discord, her magic no longer burned as fiercely and violently as the magic of the sun's god should. In youth, she had always been a reckless pyromancer, and that had terrified her. But at the Crystal Empire, she recalled some foe even far before that — there was Tirek, whom she had seen at such a young age in horrible times. She fled, hoping to save others... and in the tyrant's destruction, she saw that the Tribal Era needed no witches to create a world where ponies would burn. She had lost it at the Empire — the thought of another tyrant, another doomed nation... ...the thought of dooming her own nation in the present was too much to bear. They had lost there. But now, it was just her. Her against Luna, in a fight she refused to throw herself into. Her magic felt so weak, but was that just an effect of her faltering resolve? Celestia winced — both because she hadn't been the better at magical matters and because she felt a bolt of Luna's burn her right hindleg from behind. She didn't cry out, but the pain of a direct hit hurt it more than it should have. She suspected the sting came more from knowing her attacker's identity rather than the burns that seared at the slightest stretch of her leg. She smelled something that was undoubtedly her charred flesh and felt her stomach drop. It was not something she ever wanted to know again, ponies burning. There also appeared to be no end to the little world that Luna had woven, trapping her here like a moth in a jar. The world outside was reflected through a thick glass that warped her perception as she beat her fragile little body into the hard surface, again and again, waiting for the icy cold of the smooth and unforgiving surface to soak into her as she fell. Celestia yelped, but her sister's name, and it sounded like a desperate plea she couldn't stop once the tears had started, pleading she was in there as well. She heard the air slice around her and a dark blur cut through the night, the shadows of mountains like teeth standing behind her. She had no night vision like her sister, she flew blindly into the night except for what her sunfire — a power exclusive to her — could illuminate causing her body to be striped with chains of shadows that showed the necklace of bruises above and around her usual golden one. It appeared she would not be making it to the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville tonight. ... It was hard for Celestia to see past the tears in her eyes. She knew she couldn't blink, not for one moment. But Luna was right in front of her, with her cloud of magic that followed her like a familiar still hanging about her form and merging with her magic when she made it, giving the manifestation of magic the illusion of being a creature that had a will of its own. Her horn was a-glow with blue once more, but then again, Celestia could recall when Luna's horn wasn't lit. "Luna," she pleaded again. "Luna, I'm sorry, if you just go to Ponyville—" "Quiet!" Luna hissed baring fangs. "Your pleading sister act will not work this time. Do you think I remember nothing about you? All you ever wanted was to be adored and to have a crown sit on your head." "Oh Luna, I've changed! Please, you're my sister. By your stars, Luna, I don't w-want to fight you!" Luna scowled and dodged the warmth of one of Celestia's light ribbons. Had she stayed in place, she could have destroyed it quite easily. With Celestia's waning will, her magic went with her. "Please Luna!" Celestia sobbed, trying to make her choked breaths take the form of the name that felt like dust in her mouth — strange and foreign after centuries of going unused. This didn't go unnoticed to Luna, who looked upon Celestia with nothing but contempt that was clear in the dark. Moonlight reflected off her fangs, which glinted in the dark. "Look at you — pretending to be different, to be like you were ages ago. Do you really think anypony who knew better could fall for your nice queen act now? You remember nothing! And look at all this—" She cut herself off abruptly and flew over to Celestia, appearing to dissolve into the dark as she dived, with only the whooshing of wind and shine of sparkles in the dark to indicate where she was. When Luna was still in front of Celestia, the former recoiled at the sudden lack of any distance between them. She could feel the warmth of life from Luna despite how dark and cold she was, like the moon that was now free of scars in the sky. Luna's eyes held no mercy, but Celestia didn't notice. She watched the edge of Luna's helm, so fitting for a cruel persona but not her baby sister. This wasn't, couldn't be her little baby sister. Her horn died, and the two of them were shrouded in gloom. Celestia couldn't will herself to reach out and grab her, to never let her baby sister go ever again. She needed her back. She wanted her back. It had to only be seconds passing, but each moment she had a harder time breathing and the bruises across her throat pained her felt like a miniature eternity that she could only spend focusing on Luna because no words would come, only her name on repeat in Celestia's mind. Her Luna. Not the Luna of the moon, the Luna who sat forlornly upon the throne of old, not the Luna who vanished under darkness- Luna didn't vanish. Luna was here. Luna was talking to her. Her Luna. Her Luna. Luna. Luna. Luna. Luna. She watched as runes flickered across her baby sister's helm and her wicked smile that bore so much resemblance to a snarl. And she watched Luna open her mouth... ...And she was speaking to her! Not fighting! She was talking to her sister again. "Look at what you've done, Celestia." She said the name — her name — so that it hissed like acid. "You made the pretty little kingdom that was always yours in your image. You erased history! YOU ERASED ME! YOU FOOLISH, DESPERATE, AND BROKEN MARE! YOU COULDN'T GO A SINGLE DAY WITHOUT BEING ADORED AND LOVED AND SOMEHOW—" Celestia drew back from Luna's screams. They rang in her ears, her being. They were broken screams and angry screams and she couldn't take the thought of Luna being hurt, not again. "—SOMEHOW YOU'RE OKAY! WITHOUT ME YOU'VE BEEN DOING FINE!" "I did it all for you! I helped them be better for you, for us! P-Please, Luna—" Luna drew back her lip, her shimmering aura sparkling around her as she gave a snarl, one unlike anything Celestia had ever heard. It was like one thousand years alone delivered in one gesture that felt like it was freezing her from within. She looked up at Luna, for just one second they were still and looking at one another. Baleful eyes that could belong to no equine met watery magenta drained of all inner resolve. Celestia shakily held out her hoof in a gesture of everything she wanted to be better between them. In the split second she thought she saw Luna smile at her gesture of sisterhood, Celestia felt an ember of hope stir in the ashes within her. It died the moment Luna lunged, and the world shattered with it. ... Under the sun's surface was an agonizing place to be, and that was for a goddess as Celestia was. She knew that no mortal could survive this great burning. It was even worse than when Luna had pulled her physical form apart with all the power that the iridescent cloud of aura gave her. Fire ripped through every part of her near-shattered being that could withstand the heat through divinity and the sun's connection to her. Though she was the master of the great ball of fire, she was no longer in a position to mover her solar pawn when her very existence and her sister's power weighed her sun below the horizon. And there was the chance it might not be seen again... Fire scorched Celestia's disembodied and anchored soul at the thought. Her entire being tried to reel away in pain, but only sank further into pain and heat. That false stardust - wherever Luna had gotten it, the stuff had enabled her to forge such a place as the prison of the tyrant king was forged without the aid of the Elements. Would she be here too long to help her little ponies? How much of her mind would be left when and if she did get out? She didn't know and she didn't try to know. There was no hope. Celestia had never been the kind to earnestly believe in hope or faith. She believed in pawns and kings, rooks, and mages — all things that were so far away. Would Luna kill to meet her goal? It was not unlikely, before her banishment — a time that felt farther away with each torrent of pain that ripped through Celestia — she had been a skilled warrior and an even better mage. What would a life mean to Luna now? Celestia acknowledged no ignorance or uncertainty on her part, but let the questions echo through her even if they were to be unanswered. The Summer Celebration was her last chance. She had bought time for the only two who might be what it takes. There was Cadance, compassionate, and pure-hearted. The love she shared with her fiancé, Shining Armor, would no doubt see them through great struggles in the future. She may not have had the potential of a Faithful Student, but if any could lead ponies with the things she taught it would be loving, extroverted, and caring Cadance. She wasn't marked as any of the keys Celestia would need, but she was a true princess of Equestria. Ponies would follow her if the time for her to be a leader ever came. And then there was Twilight Sparkle. She had been groomed her entire life for this purpose, though she didn't know. The moment Celestia saw her mark she knew she had found the perfect pawn for her newest Faithful Student. Celestia knew that she would be the one to act as a vessel for the Spark of Magic. From that day when Celestia saw her as a little filly — and that amazing mark! — she had begun to plan the life of Twilight Sparkle in order to bring her to this point. She became a favored companion, impressionable, humble, and eager to work with Celestia and impress her. Trusting. She was the key, and a key Celestia had forged herself. But she was so far away, farther than ever, moving onward in relative ignorance of the situation, as was planned. And Celestia, through the fire that tore at her, managed to envision the quaint village of Ponyville, though she had only been there once or twice before her divinity kept the memory of the location crystal clear. She imagined Twilight trotting through the town square, with Spike at her side. Please, Twilight... Hurry... Author's Note Thanks for reading! If you liked this story... ~There's a group for this story 'verse with a timeline in the forum! ~There's a story with more of Celestia's letters right here. ~There's also some pre-NMM Luna stories. One! Two! Three! ~More NMM/Luna's banishment horsewords can be found here! ~An exploration of Celestia after Luna's banishment through horse poems is here!
