Elemental: Power is Magic

by Aeluna

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike, Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Luna
Length: 8199

After an unforeseen attack, Celestia finds herself in a strange and dangerous new world. A world where Princess Twilight sits upon the throne—and she is her pupil.

Queen Chrysalis had won. After years of scheming and hiding in the shadows, feeding off scraps of love scavenged from innocent, oblivious passers by, she had finally succeeded in infiltrating Canterlot Castle and the city itself for her own.

Struck down by an unforseen attack, Celestia finds herself catapulted across dimensions and into a bizarre new world of magic and power. A world where she, herself, is the student.

Welcome to Twilight Sparkle's Equestria; a land where magic is might and nopony can escape the clutches of her strict and absolute rule.

Many thanks, as always, to Word Worthy for his unending support and editing skills. Coverart commissioned from Mr-Tech.

Published 2018-07-08 22:50:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-07-16 23:43:52 UTC

Prologue

From the stained-glass windows of Canterlot Castle’s throne room, a towering white mare surveyed her city with quiet contemplation. She had taken to doing so frequently these days, ever since the war had started.

Well, her subjects called it a war. And certainly she knew who the enemy was this time—but they had never openly engaged her or her forces; Queen Chrysalis’ plans had become so much more sophisticated with each passing year. Indeed, now it seemed she had taken a liking to a fear-based approach as opposed to a simple hoof-to-hoof brawl.

The mare looked down at the mass of ponies that jostled about through the city’s streets, going about their day-to-day lives. Even from this distance, despite the happy smiles and the laughter among friends, the unease was evident. It didn’t take a changeling to know that; it practically radiated off of them all in waves.

The Queen had to be given credit this time. This psychological warfare was working wonderfully.

A few ponies might disappear in the middle of the night. Inexplicable accidents seemed to be on the rise. And even the shadows seemed to be stalking innocent ponies these days.

It was hard to tell anymore what was real, and what was simply delusional.

“Princess Celestia,” a voice said, pulling the mare back into reality.

Celestia shook her head quickly to clear her thoughts, plastering a smile onto her face.

“Yes, soldier?” she said, standing a little taller. She pricked her ears forwards to show that she was listening.

“Your sister is on her way to the castle, Your Majesty. Should we lower the drawbridge?”

Princess Celestia sighed. She held up a hoof and then turned back to the window, peering out. Indeed a carriage was now just about in sight, travelling along the winding mountain road that led up to the bustling city that was Canterlot.

Its location was a strategic masterpiece, Celestia mused; a city that was built at the side of one of Equestria’s largest mountains certainly had a good vantage. Of course, that was more useful when it had first been built; these days, many centuries later, winged foes were much more common than they had been in times gone by.

Changelings included.

As it drew closer, Celestia was finally able to get a good look at the carriage. It was led by a finely strung pair of earth pony stallions and followed up by a proudly marching group of the newly-formed Night Guard: an elite force of only the very toughest bat ponies. Sat atop it—no doubt protected by a shield spell—a dark blue alicorn was waiting quietly, waving idly to the jittery ponies who had gathered around outside to watch her pass through.

Celestia turned back to the guard. “Certainly, lower it down,” she said, a rare sparkle in her eyes.

The stallion nodded quickly and tightened his grips on his spear, turning tail and hurrying out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him in his haste, leaving Celestia with only her thoughts once again. After a millennia of ruling Equestria, she had become accustomed to the long hours she would inevitably spend in this room—especially at times of war.

And this was war.

Celestia trotted over to the doorway cheerfully. Her feathers ruffled quietly against her side, tickling her rump gently. Her ears flitted about eagerly, waiting ever so patiently—as composed and proper as a good ruler should be—whilst nearly bursting at the seams from excitement. This campaign across the nation of her sister’s had seemed a good idea when she had initially agreed to it. Now, though, she was just happy to have her home in one piece.

For a week she hadn’t heard any news from the party—which happened to coincide perfectly with a larger kidnapping on the outskirts of Manehattan, exactly where Luna had been at the time. The only word of their survival had been received yesterday, and oh, Stars, was Celestia relieved to hear they were all safe and well.

The door creaked open and Celestia stood taller, stance suddenly stiffer. It was instinctive these days; most of her visitors said they did the same thing. But for a moment, nopony came through.

And then Luna, the supposedly regal and composed Princess of the Night, came barrelling through, all but leaping atop Celestia and knocking her straight to the ground. The guards at the door rushed in immediately at the noise; Celestia quickly shooed himhem away with a dismissing wave of her hoof.

“Tia!” Luna cried, snorting and giggling at the same time so as to make a noise which somewhat resembled a chuckling pig. “How have you been?”

Celestia laughed quietly and made to roll out from under her sister; when she found herself pinned, she sighed and relaxed. “Worried sick, you monster!” she cried, batting Luna’s shoulder with a hoof. It was all she could reach at her current disadvantage. “You didn’t send word!”

Luna rolled her eyes. “I did, Tia. But I probably chose the wrong pony for the job. I sent that new recruit—he was so eager, see! But, alas, it seemed he went northwest instead of simply west. Poor thing found himself at Yakyakistan—and they immediately smothered him in “Yak love”, as they now dub it.”

Celestia cringed. “I admire Prince Rutherford’s ambitions and customs, I truly do, but…”

She twirled her hoof in the air, searching for the correct word.

Luna smirked. “He and his yaks can be brutish?” she concluded.

Celestia opened her mouth to retort, but found no words coming out. “Yes, I suppose that is an… adequate word for the situation. I would perhaps have used something a little less severe, but…”

Luna rolled her eyes and then clambered off of her sister. She used her magic to heave Celestia to her hooves. She then flapped her wings excitedly and said, “But that’s not important! What is important is what happened to me today!”

Celestia stiffened. Her own wings flared out and her eyes suddenly blazed as dangerously as the sun she wielded. “What did they do to you?” she snarled.

Luna shook her head quickly, raising her hooves in the air. “No, no, nothing bad! Great, actually! I’ve got a fan!”

Celestia was quiet for a moment. Her posture then slumped and she let out a small breath. “Oh, thank the heavens!” she breathed, placing her hoof just above her pounding heart. “You scared me senseless then, Luna!”

Luna giggled. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean to! I believe you need a break, Sister. This stress is making you paranoid!”

Celestia hung her head. “You don’t need to tell me I’m paranoid. I know that myself.” She fell silent and sighed again; after a slightly terse silence, she then stood taller once more and said, “So, this so-called fan of yours?”

Luna trotted slightly on the spot. “Oh, Tia, it was wonderful! A little pegasus filly all but flew into my head, she was so happy! My night guard nearly attacked her, of course, but I stopped them. And oh, I am so glad that I did! She was so happy, and look! She gave me a gift!” Luna beamed as she turned her head to the side and pointed her hoof to her mane. Just behind her ears a small, silver clip with lime green studs was sat, nestled in the midnight blue hair. It seemed to almost sparkle and glint, shooting the sunlight directly between Celestia’s eyes.

“Oh, that’s lovely, Lu,” she said, beaming as she reached out to draw her sister into a hug. A moment later she then drew back and turned to the stained glass windows again. She peered down at the bustling city once more, smiling. “Our subjects are trusting you more by the day, aren't they?”

Luna only gasped in reply.

Celestia laughed quietly at first before her posture suddenly stiffened. She frowned. She pushed herself up to her hooves from the window ledge that she had been resting against. Luna’s tiny whimpers were the only thing she could hear. But, as Celestia turned around slowly with her wings unfurled, a new voice sounded. A voice she knew all too well.

“It seems that you are the one who is too trusting, Princess,” the voice snapped. It was a sharp sound that sent shudders down Celestia’s spine.

She growled.

“Chrysalis,” she hissed before she had even finished turning around—but she had not fully anticipated the sight which met her eyes.

Luna stood weakly before her, struggling visibly and snarling under the grip of the newcomer. A silver ring sat around the base of her horn, nullifying her magic. Try as she might, she couldn’t even produce a spark.

The new mare was as black as the darkest night sky, with a body absolutely riddled with holes as if her body was being rotted from the inside out. Her tattered, iridescent wings buzzed excitedly, her tail flicking idly all the while. She snorted, a smirk upon her muzzle.

“I wouldn’t risk any careless moves, Celestia. The door to this room is locked and soundproofed. We’re alone.”

Chrysalis’ horn fared into life. From the acrid green aura a blade—silver with lime green splotches—burst into being from the thin air. It came to rest just slightly below Luna’s chin, drawing the smallest trickle of blood. “Your dear sister is at something of a disadvantage, you see.”

Celestia snarled and stood taller, but she made no attempt to do anything else. “What do you want?” she asked, a small amount of disgust lacing her otherwise neutral voice. “I will not give you my subjects or their emotions to feed from, but anything else is up for trade. A peace offering.”

Chrysalis smirked. “I don’t need a peace deal, Celestia. Once I’ve killed you, I can take it all for myself anyway.” She guffawed loudly. “Hence why I take the evil route, pony. I don’t negotiate. I want it all. Should every good ruler not do so for her subjects?”

Celestia was quiet. After quick deliberation, and a sideways glance at her sister, she then said cautiously, “Indeed, we both have our subjects’ interests at heart. But this violence… Would it not be more prudent to collaborate? Integrate your changelings into pony society and feed from the love of friends and lovers?”

Chrysalis’ entire body tensed. Her wings stopped flittering, suddenly deadly still. And then she snarled, “You dare liken my swarm to those traitors you now call allies?” she screamed, her entire being now radiating magic in pulsating waves. Each one smashed into Celestia’s body, making her head pound and throb and her vision begin to blur. “The changeling race is the thing of nightmares! Of legend! And you try to make us little better than those worthless pounds of flesh you call subjects?”

The next blast of magic struck Celestia directly above her heart, making her cry out momentarily in pain. She stood strong, though, eyes focused on Luna all the while. Chrysalis snarled at the sight, pressing the blade ever more forcefully against her captive’s skin.

“You will not undermine me, Celestia!” Chrysalis finally yelled, wings buzzing again as her magic eased. And, as her rage subsided slightly, something even more terrifying replaced it.

Complete, unfaltering confidence.

“Your reign has been long, Princess, but that is all you shall ever be. I am a Queen; a deity. Every one of my subjects, my children, knows their exact role and purpose in life. And every one of my changelings—drones, infiltrators, breeders and soldiers alike—has been nurtured to fulfil that exact purpose. And, unlike your meek subjects, mine are all trained to the point of perfection in combat.” Chrysalis smirked. “So, tell me… How long will your ponies hold off my swarm with you gone?”

Celestia growled ever so slightly. “I will not attack you, Chrysalis,” she said. “But I will defend myself until you keel over from your own exhaustion.”

Chrysalis only smiled. “Is that so?” she asked, horn fizzing. Celestia braced herself, ready to throw up a shield at a whim if she should need to. “Because to me, you’re already a dead mare.”

Celestia snarled once again, lowering her head ever so slightly in preparation. She pawed slightly at the ground—but Chrysalis did not strike. She only smiled in an overly sweet manner, digging the blade into Luna’s throat ever so slightly more so that the mare spluttered a little.

Celestia stumbled slightly, a wave of dizziness rushing over her. She recovered her footing quickly, though, and continued to stare deeply into those menacing eyes.

“Your sister is of excellent breeding, is she not?” Chrysalis said idly, tilting her head down to look at Luna. Her eyes did not leave Celestia, though. Her smirk did not fade at all. “Don’t you think she’ll make an excellent broodmare for my larvae?”

That did it. Celestia flared her wings and reared up, an attack already charged on her horn—and then the magic fizzled away. Her legs crumpled beneath her and she collapsed to the floor, suddenly deafened to her sister’s scream and Chrysalis’ cackling. And, as she trembled in a useless heap, she was just able to watch as the Queen hurled Luna to the floor. Chrysalis then stepped towards her, licking her fangs.

Celestia couldn’t hear the words, but they were said slowly enough that she could lip read them.

“Sweet dreams, little pony,” Chrysalis whispered.

And then Celestia’s eyes slipped shut.

Chapter One

As soon as she awoke, Celestia sprung to her hooves, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. She flared her wings in mid-leap and sparked a spell upon her horn—and then she opened her eyes.

White! All she could see was white! She was blind!

Something heavy, and yet somehow still incredibly soft, ensnared her. She gasped, desperate for air as the wrap choked her, smothering her muzzle. She flailed, all of her grace—mastered over centuries—abandoning her in a primal fight for survival.

And then she fell.

Celestia grunted when she landed on the floor, a quiet thud making her bones shudder. She heaved and shook herself quickly, finally feeling whatever casing she had been trapped in break open. She fell free from its grip, tumbling out onto the floor with all the poise of a newborn foal.

Instinctively she clenched her eyes shut, holding her breath. Her ears flicked, but everything was deadly silent. And, even without seeing, she could tell that it was bright.

Too bright. Artificial.

But no attack came yet. Shrugging aside the rest of her prison she gave a slow exhale. Then, after a moment of hesitating, she opened her eyes, ready to face whatever horrors were awaiting her.

But she was alone. And, more specifically, she was lying in a mess of blankets and pillows on the floor of the old Canterlot observatory.

“What the…” she whispered, glancing about herself with growing unease and uncertainty. “Is this some sort of mind game?”

Shakily, Celestia rose to her hooves. She must have hit her head when Chrysalis had struck her; everything looked and felt so big. And yet, ironically, she herself felt oddly short. Her legs felt so much heavier and lumbering than she was used to.

She had definitely hit her head.

She rose her hoof slowly to pat her mane over, checking for any injuries. She couldn’t feel any pain, sure, save for a slight twinge at the back of her head. That was fine—but, she then realised, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The painless injuries were often the worst.

Her horn was there, intact. Okay, that was important. Her ears were fine, too, and when she glanced down at her leg there was no blood.

Wow. Her hooves looked positively swollen. Had Chrysalis poisoned her with her venom?

Did changelings even have venom?

A worry for later, she noted.

With a quick shake of her body, as if to rid herself of any unpleasant substances that may have clung to her fur, Celestia galloped quickly to the window. She snorted and shook her head. She then stood up on her rear-hooves so as to peer outside. She had no idea how long she had been out for; it was quite possible that Canterlot had already been taken by the changelings.

Celestia had been prepared for whatever sight might meet her, she had thought. She expected to see changelings raining from the sky in fiery green flames. She had expected to see mares and foals huddled behind trembling stallions, with readily waiting changelings surrounding them. She could easily imagine how Chrysalis’ soldiers would look; they would be standing there quietly—terrifyingly so—with their wings buzzing and their snake-like tongues flitting over pearly fangs.

The one thing she hadn’t been expecting was normality. The city, in all of its grandeur, looked absolutely fine. Ponies milled about as they always did—though they were perhaps a little less talkative—and got on with their daily lives. It was as if there had been no attack in the first place.

The changelings would have attacked, surely? With Celestia out of the way, presumably imprisoned in this room with nought but books and her thoughts, would Chrysalis not have immediately ordered her drones to reveal themselves and take the city? Take its ponies, too? For these individuals certainly didn’t look as if they were being fed from; drained of all emotion to the point of merely being cowering shells.

Or was Chrysalis being more subtle, this time? Had she integrated her changelings with society to feed from the sidelines as Celestia had suggested? Surely not; where was the grandeur in that?

Because if Celestia knew anything about Chrysalis, it was that she lived to show off. Everything she did was for appearances—to instil fear into every creature that laid eyes upon her or her swarm.

Celestia frowned. She had to get out of this prison. But how—unless…

She reached her hoof up gingerly and tapped her horn. Indeed, as she had hoped, there was no ring there; the Queen had been reckless! Chrysalis had put a magic dampener on Luna’s horn but must have forgotten to do so for Celestia in her glee after defeating her oldest nemesis! A major flaw, if ever there was one!

Celestia giggled quietly and tapped her hooves. Oh, the naivety of it all!

Just to check, she lit her horn and focused on the book which lay on the bedside cabinet. Encasing it in her magic, she carried it through the air to her muzzle. It took a little more effort to lift it than she had expected—it felt more like a boulder than a book—but she had only just woken up. Her magic reserves were probably depleted.

A wave of unease rushed over her. That was the reason for this weakness, was it not?

Celestia shuddered. She didn’t want to think about what would occur if something had happened to her powers. A weak alicorn princess was of no use at all.

Celestia shook her head quickly. Now wasn’t the time to think on that; there was a tyrant changeling queen to find. But the first matter of business? Remembering where the door to this place was.

With a confident smile on her face, though it was entirely fabricated and false, Celestia trotted bouncily out of the old bedroom and straight into the main landing of the observatory. Momentarily she was struck by just how many books there were; she hadn’t remembered the place being this big. How had Princess Twilight—way back when she had been Celestia’s own student—managed to read all of these?

That filly had been a strange one, back then. Not that she was much less odd now, though her curiosity was always endearing. There were certainly worse traits to have.

Spying the door, Celestia approached it slowly and sparked a spell up on her horn, just in case. Doing so made her vision blur momentarily, but she tried to ignore that; using advanced magic was probably just more strenuous than usual after what she had been through. That was it. She smiled and stomped a hoof. Nothing was wrong at all. This was fine.

With a deep breath in, Celestia rose her hoof just above the door handle. She tapped it gingerly; one could never be too careful when it came to fighting the changelings. When no immediate backlash came, she then sighed and grasped the knob, turning it once.

The door slammed open just before she could pull it. With a yelp Celestia jumped to the side, the wood smashing into her flank. A cry was torn from her throat, the skin around her cutie mark suddenly throbbing painfully.

“Argh,” she groaned. Her rear legs buckled beneath her weight and she found herself laying sprawled out on the floor. Just at that moment something small and blue zipped in through the doorway with a screech, tumbling through the air as it fought to regain some control. The thing then smashed into the wall opposite the doorway and yelped, falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.

Celestia frowned and raised an eyebrow, charging her spell a little more. This thing was pathetic, but she couldn’t be too careful; a changeling could go from feeble to ferocious in a blink.

“Are you alright?” she asked slowly as she stood unsteadily. She fought to keep her rear legs under control; a changeling foe didn’t need to see her weakness.

The little blue thing—a griffon, or so it appeared—stirred and grumbled, rolling around on the spot until it managed to sit upright. It then raised a tiny paw and licked it, whining quietly whilst it smoothed back the feathers on its head. It then opened its tiny wings, still whimpering, and began to nuzzle them quickly, a blush on its cheeks as it straightened out a few crooked feathers.

“Sorry, Tia,” it mumbled, standing up just as unsteadily as she. It shook quickly, dust flung from its fur and feathers. “You opened the door just as I was about to open it too.”

Celestia raised a brow. She sparked her horn dangerously. It was only for show, but the griffon squeaked and recoiled slightly anyway. “Hey, hey! Wait! What’d I do wrong? You said I was allowed to preen in here!”

Celestia frowned. The sparks dissipated. “What?” she said involuntarily, raising a hoof. “You… huh?”

She blinked a few times, her mind reeling. After a few seconds she then noticed how her mouth was hanging open stupidly and how her ears had fallen halfway and took a deep breath in, regaining her composure. Inevitably her wings had fallen to the ground as well; she quickly made to pull them back to her side.

Wait.

Oh, no.

Celestia hissed and flung her head behind her, just about able to see her back. Her distinctly featherless back. And she screamed.

“Woah!” the little griffin cried. It zipped up into the air and shot towards Celestia, proceeding to grip her cheeks with its claws. It stared straight into her eyes, unblinking. “Hey, hey, it’s alright!”

Celestia shook her head and recoiled. “No! No, no, no!” She snorted and bucked, throwing her head frantically. “No! No!”

The little griffon hissed as Celestia’s horn brushed against its chest. “Hey, cool it already!” it squawked, dodging an accidental blow by mere hair lengths. “What’s gotten into you?”

Celestia wheezed. “My wings! Where are my wings!” she yelled, panting.

The little griffon frowned. “Tia, you’re a unicorn. You don’t have wings. You know, basic biology and all that?”

Celestia’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Of course I have wings! I’m an alicorn!”
she cried. She stomped her hoof loudly. The little griffon cringed.

“No, you’re… You’re a unicorn, Celestia. There’s only one alicorn in Equis, and that’s Princess Twilight Sparkle.” The little griffon slowly drifted closer. “Are you ill or something?”

Celestia gasped. “Only one?” she breathed, suddenly quiet. She then stared directly at the griffon and said, “What about Cadence? And Luna? Where are they? Have they lost their wings too?”

The griffon fluttered backwards. “I honestly don’t have a clue what you’re on about,” it muttered. “Who is Cadence? And, uh, no, I’m pretty sure I’ve not lost my wings.” The griffon raised a paw and pointed to her frantically flapping feathers. “See?”

Celestia fell to her rump once again. She placed a hoof on her head and shook it. “I’m dead,” was all she said to start with. She then hung her head and finished, “I failed.”

The griffon's beak crumpled. It landed cautiously next to Celestia, inching closer. “What?”

“None of this makes sense,” Celestia murmured, before she raised her head and pointed an accusatory hoof at the griffon. “I mean, look at you! I’m just casually chatting with a changeling about how I’m suddenly a unicorn and you haven’t even attacked me yet or anything! This doesn’t make sense! Therefore, I must be dead.”

The little griffon poked her shoulder with a claw. “Uh, I’m a griffon, Tia. Always have been. Not a changeling,” it said. “And you’ve always been a unicorn. Nothing’s changed there either.”

Celestia raised her head. “How can this be happening?” she murmured.

The griffon padded around to Celestia’s chest, its blue tail flicking idly. Its feathers, the deepest of blues, were slightly ruffled. It was then that Celestia noticed something that she had previously missed; though somewhat hazy and unclear, the jet-black fur of the griffon’s flank—slightly obscured by its feathers—looked exactly like Princess Luna’s own markings. In fact, when she looked a little more carefully, she could have sworn those stray white hairs looked somewhat similar to a crescent moon.

“Luna?” Celestia breathed, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The little griffon’s head shot up, a twinkle in its eyes.

“Finally, you say something that makes sense,” it said with a quiet laugh. It clapped its claws and smirked. “Yes, that’s me. Good job!”

Celestia tapped her hoof against the floor. “You’re Luna,” was all she said.

“Well, you named me,” the little griffon replied with a snort. “Back when you hatched my egg, remember?”

Celestia tapped her hoof again. “I hatched your egg,” she repeated. Her voice grew steadily quieter as she spoke.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Right. Of course.”

Pony and griffon stared at each other quietly, turquoise eyes meeting pink unblinkingly. After a few moments of awkward and terse silence, Celestia then turned away and sighed. She raised a hoof, rubbed her forehead gingerly then whispered, “So, Luna… You say Twilight Sparkle is the Princess, correct?”

The little Luna-griffon frowned. “Well, yes, of course—” she began.

“And she’s the Princess of…” Celestia then continued, raising a hoof and twirling it slowly in the air. Luna frowned at her.

“Well, magic, of course,” she said slowly, her eyes flitting over Celestia’s body. “She’s your mentor and teacher, Tia. You really ought to know this stuff.” Momentarily the griffon’s eyes darkened. “It’s probably illegal not to know it.”

Celestia gulped but forced a smile. “Of course it is,” she said, her ear flicking slightly and her eye twitching. Her eye twitched. “So, who controls the sun and moon?”

The little Luna-griffon blinked once. “You’re really starting to worry me, y’know,” she said.

Celestia blushed. “Just refreshing the facts!” she said with a nervous chortle. “I mean, I’m—ah—making sure you know these things. As you say, it is illegal to not know so.”

Luna’s frown deepened. She was quiet for a moment before she then said, “Well, the unicorns control the sun, obviously.”

Celestia smiled and nodded once. “Of course, of course,” she said, beaming unsteadily. “Well done. Good job.”

Luna scowled. “You’re lying,” was her response after a momentary pause. “You know Twilight controls the sun and moon. You’ve watched her!”

Celestia’s smile fell faster than a brick through the air. “R-right,” she murmured. She took a slow step backwards. Luna followed immediately. “I just… I’ve got this really bad headache, you know? And I just… I can’t think straight.”

Luna was quiet. Her eyes then shot wide and she said, “Oh,” as if realising some massive secret. She then fluttered up to Celestia’s cheek and said, “The magic backlash has returned, hasn’t it?”

“I...”

Luna shook her head and raised a claw. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Powerful unicorns get it all the time! This just means you’re improving!” she chirped. She then let her head fall into her claws and shook it, sighing. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see the symptoms sooner! Dizziness, confusion, sudden memory loss and a weakened magical aura! It’s so obvious now!”

Celestia rubbed the back of her neck slowly with a hoof. It was so much easier with wings. “It is?” the asked quietly.

Luna nodded eagerly. “Yep! You have all of the symptoms and you’ve been growing so much stronger recently! With all the magic in the air, you were bound to get it properly at some point!” She beamed and nuzzled Celestia’s cheek gently. “Seriously, it’s alright. You just need some time off. Somewhere a little less… magical.”

Celestia frowned and raised her head. So that was what the ominous weight was: magic?

“Yeah, that might help,” she whispered.

“Of course it will!” Luna then squeaked. She flew into the air and zipped about excitedly. “Oh, imagine, won’t it be nice to move away from the city?” She froze on the spot and shook her head. “No, Luna, no! Focus! This will be a purely recovery-based trip. No sightseeing!”

Celestia sighed. “Right,” she whispered, frowning.

Luna crashed into her shoulder and clung on, before heaving herself up onto Celestia’s back. “Exactly!” she confirmed with a squawk, She then shot over to the door and heaved it open, a massive smile upon her face. “And good timing for that idea, too! The princess will have finished with her consultations in a few minutes too, and you know as well as I do how strict she is on timings.”

Celestia’s ears fell. “I can imagine,” she murmured.

Luna frowned. “Huh?”

Celestia hissed at the slip up and shook her head quickly. Her ears batted against her neck as she did so. “Nothing,” she quickly said. “We had better be quick, now, though. Like you say, we both know how… strict the princess can be for timings.”

Luna giggled quietly, her wings flapping quickly from her seat upon Celestia’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly! You know that Twilight has no other engagements after two o’clock! Not ‘til five, anyway. That’s her rest time, silly!”

Celestia frowned. “Remind me why we’re interrupting her rest break, then?”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Because that’s the only time you’re allowed to visit her?” she suggested with a snort. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Celestia was quiet for a moment before she sighed and nodded. “Yes, you’re right, sister,” she said. When she turned to leave, though, she realised Luna didn’t immediately follow. Instead, a tiny whimper met her ears. She spun immediately, a newfound panic flooding her body—but everything was fine. There were no evil changeling queens here, trying to steal another version of her sister from her. Rather, the little griffon merely fluttered quietly in the air, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“S-sister?” Luna whispered, her voice wavering. “You’ve never called me sister before…”

Celestia cursed under her breath. “Have I not?” She beamed. “Well, I’m starting now!”

Luna’s confused frown morphed into a wobbly smile. She then fluttered up to Celestia’s cheek, nuzzling it with her beak gently; cautiously.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered, letting out a tiny breath. She stayed like that quietly, and probably would have continued to do so had Celestia not pushed her away after a few silent seconds.

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said, trying to hide the frown of confusion on her muzzle. “So, to Princess Twilight Sparkle, then?”

Chapter Two

Celestia crept out of the doorway of Twili—no, her—observatory. She took small, slow steps, as if doing so would delay the inevitable.

But, to her surprise, the city really wasn’t that bad.

A large part of her had expected this to be some cruel changeling trick, designed to lead her to her enslavement, torture, or demise in the most humiliating way. A smaller portion of her mind had simultaneously been thrust into overdrive, creating images of what Princess Twilight Sparkle’s nation could be; a system operated in a cruel and unwaveringly regimented manner in which everypony suffered unendingly until they took their last, quavery breath.

True, she had looked out of her window when she woke—but, one way or another, something was amiss. She couldn’t give out her full trust freely just yet.

But, despite the fact that she was now only as big as Celestia’s head and that she had spontaneously become a griffon, there was something about Luna that just set her mind at ease.

The sun was bright overhead, casting a blanket of light over the city. Celestia sighed as she felt its warmth tickle her coat and she let her posture relax ever so slightly, though her hackles raised momentarily when a particularly hot wave rushed over her.

She frowned and glanced up to the sky above, her eyes flicking over the sun. Though easily double as close to the land as normal, it did look normal, for sure—but Celestia knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t feel its unearthly pull on her magical core anymore, and when her eyes landed upon it properly she found herself blinded.

Her own sun never did that. Not to her, at least.

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, before offsetting her gaze slightly so that she could see it burning in the corner of her vision. There was something unpleasant about this sun; something cold. She shivered. It just didn’t feel natural—as if something had been added to mask a more unpleasant effect.

A second wave of intense heat blew over her and Celestia hissed, her back hunched. It passed just as quickly as it had come, but when she glanced up this time, something terrifyingly wonderful met her eyes.

Plumes of fire burst from the sun in a mystifying display of light and heat, swirling dangerously around its core. Tendrils snaked and weaved through the air, merging together where they collided to form one massive ball of imposing and unrivalled energy. Then, with a small flash of white light, the solar flares tore themselves completely from the sun; they danced in midair as they drifted closer together, intermingling with one another with gentle caresses. And, just before they fizzled out into nothingness, something truly mesmerising happened; a massive dragon’s head, made entirely from the fire of the solar flares, flew across the sky in a fiery show of power, its maw opened wide in a silent roar before it simply faded into nothingness.

Celestia blinked quickly, her eyes wide and transfixed directly upwards on the sky. In all of her years—and she had seen more than her fair share, for sure—she had never seen such a breathtaking spectacle. But, when she finally lowered her head and looked about the city, she realised that not a single pony had stopped to take notice.

The little Luna-griffon fluttered up to her muzzle, landing smugly on her nose so that all Celestia could see was her immaculately feathered chest.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” she squawked, her beak curled up at the edges in a snicker. “What’s up with you? Never seen the Daytime Drake before?”

Celestia looked quickly up at the sky, throwing the little griffon from her muzzle. Her ears fell. “The Daytime Drake?” she repeated, her gaze landing upon the spot where the flares had fizzled out. “That’s normal?”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “Well, sure,” she said, flapping her wings rapidly so that she zipped up into Celestia’s line of vision. “Don’t you remember the old mare’s tale?”

Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid, sister, that it has slipped my mind.”

Luna sighed. “Wow, Tia. You’ve got pretty bad backlash, huh?”

“Have I?”

“Well, you normally read me that story every night before bed. Except last night, when you said you felt sick. Remember?”

Celestia frowned. “Yes?” she said.

Luna smacked a claw to her face. “You don’t, do you? You seriously don’t remember any of that tale? I don’t know a pony alive who doesn’t know it. That’s kindergarten stuff, Tia!”

Celestia was quiet for a moment before she let her ears fall more naturally. She hung her head in fake embarrassment. “Remind me?”

She may not have been a good actor, but the little Luna-griffon accepted it all the same. With a sigh she raised her claw and pointed up to the sky, saying, “Millenia ago, Princess Twilight Sparkle faced down against one of the deadliest foes known to ponykind: the meanest dragon ever to prowl this land. The horrendous Hellfire.

“Some ponies reckon he was once an ally of the Princess. Some ponies think that’s stupid and that he was always a wicked monster. But in the end he turned on her, and he threatened to swallow the entire world—“ Luna stretched out her claws as widely as she could, “—in his fiery breath!”

Celestia glanced as closely as she could up to the sun. “And Princess Twilight Sparkle imprisoned him in his own flames?” she finished, her ears fallen. Luna looked a little brighter at that.

“Exactly!” she yipped, her tail flicking happily. “Thank the stars, we can have some hope for you!”

Celestia laughed quietly, the sound tainted with a nervous edge. “It seems that way,” she mumbled, then looking away. “So, to the castle?”

The little Luna-griffon nodded stiffy. “Well, there or the tower or the dungeons,” she noted.

Celestia paused mid-stride. “Pardon?” she asked, her hoof slightly elevated and twitching uncertainly. “Does Twilight Sparkle not conduct her business in the castle?”

Luna hissed and shot forwards. She clamped Celestia’s muzzle shut tightly and threw her gaze around quickly. When she saw nopony was around—she seemed not to mind the presence of a haggard, dirty and underfed pegasus mare, whose skin hung from her frame in useless rolls—she sighed. She then looked up at Celestia and said, “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“What?”

“You fool!” Luna cried, ruffling her feathers and fur in indignation. She then whispered coldly, “It’s bad enough that you forget the word ‘princess’ in private! But in public? You’re pretty much just calling for a rebellion!”

Celestia’s back arched. “I— What? A rebellion? Of course not! Why would—“

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “You missed her title. You know how she’ll take that; she’ll think you’re, like, denying her authority! Seriously, Tia! I know you’re a powerful unicorn and all, but if you went horn-to-horn with the Princess, you’d be blown to smithereens before you could even light your magic!”

Celestia swished her tail sharply so that it struck her side. “Of course,” she said eventually, hanging her head. “I should know better.”

Luna snorted and folded her claws. “Too right you should!” she snapped, her voice suddenly louder than before.

Celestia looked up in shock. Her eyes were initially wide before they narrowed, looking the little griffon over skeptically. Luna, meanwhile, suddenly froze and gave a panicked squawk; she shot to the ground, suddenly plastering herself there as if hoping it would swallow her up.

“Oh my gosh!” she squeaked, shrinking into a tiny ball. She unfolded her tiny wings and wrapped them around herself defensively, each movement slow and careful. “I am so sorry! That was totally out of line, I shouldn’t—“

Celestia shook her head quickly. As gently as she could, she tilted the little griffon’s head upwards with a hoof to face her. Luna only clenched her eyes, refusing to look. It was with a sigh that Celestia then—to some distant cheers that sounded remarkably like, “teach that runt its place!”—snagged the skin of her neck with magic and hoisted her up into the air. As gently as she could, she then forced the tiny griffon’s eyes open.

“I’m not mad,” Celestia said, smiling as genuinely as she could. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Luna whimpered. “I deserve to be punished,” she murmured, looking away. “So why aren’t you? What’s wrong with you?”

Celestia raised a brow. “Yes, you yelled at me, but I’m not going to punish you for it,” she said, though she did realise as soon as she had spoken that, if this had been her Equestria, then her guardsponies would’ve drawn their swords by now. They wouldn’t have struck yet, though. “Why would I?”

Luna looked thoroughly baffled, her face crinkled in deep thought. “Because I’m a griffon,” was all she said, as if that was perfectly self explanatory.

Celestia opened her mouth to question Luna’s words, but one look at her trembling body quickly silenced her. A topic for another time, she assumed. Instead, with as large and warm a smile as she could muster, she said, “We’ll worry about that later, sister. We really shouldn’t be late for Princess Twilight Sparkle, now, should we?”

Luna sniffed and looked cautiously up at the mare, still dangling in midair by the skin of her neck. “I suppose not,” she mumbled, flailing awkwardly in midair so that she could slip away from Celestia’s gentle hold. When she had freed herself, she then quietly began to flutter forwards, each flap of her wings much more feeble and unenthusiastic than before. The feathers almost appeared to drag with each beat.

Following after Luna slowly, Celestia found that she was suddenly much more aware of little details. No longer distracted by the excitable griffon’s rabbiting, she felt and saw more than she had done at first. She noted the way the air fell heavily upon her back and shoulders; how a slight hum reverberated in her ears from seemingly nowhere; the murmured moans of young trees, creaking and groaning when a light breeze swept softly over their branches; and the way that the plump blades of grass which decorated the sidewalks, though bright green and vibrant, seemed to droop and sag under their own weight.

She was not left to her musings for long, though. Only a few minutes later, Luna fluttered to a stop outside one of the most heart-stopping structures Celestia had ever seen. A gigantic wall of ancient, gemstone-bearing rocks loomed over her, obstructing her view of what lay beyond. Massive towers, built in such a way that they looked almost perfectly like spears, were built into the bulwark; they shot straight up towards the skyline, as if they could pierce the heavens above. A massive drawbridge, embellished with priceless jewels and works of artistic mastery, bore down menacingly upon the pair.

Celestia couldn’t help but let her mouth fall open. This castle was created with just one intention in mind: to show off the sheer power and wealth of the pony that owned it.

Her own castle had been astounding. But this…

Princess Twilight’s castle would have made Celestia’s look like a crumbling old town house.

Luna didn’t seem as fazed at all, though. She made her way up to a small and rather uninspiring wooden noticeboard which was propped against a small post, her eyes scanning it rapidly. The writing on the roll of parchment was minuscule; she raised a claw to help herself keep on the correct line. After a few seconds her body then slouched and she sighed, tapping the text in one particular spot.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle’s here, in the castle,” she said when she turned back to Celestia. “At least that’s okay, right?”

Celestia nodded. “Yes, you’re right,” she said, smiling through her confusion. She stepped closer, then squinting at the tiny words scrawled on the paper. “Luna… How on earth can you read this? I would need a magnifying glass!”

The little griffon laughed slightly and turned to Celestia, rolling her eyes with a little of her previous sparkle. “Well, I have pretty much done this since the day you hatched my egg, so I’ve kinda got the knack for reading Princess Twilight’s teeny-tiny text.”

Celestia giggled. She stopped abruptly after a short moment, though, suddenly realising something that she hadn’t previously realised.

She hadn’t genuinely been happy since the start of the war.

Luna beamed at her, suddenly calm again. “So,” she said, nodding towards the drawbridge as she perched herself on Celestia’s back quietly. She stretched out a wing lazily and then finished with, “into the castle?”

Celestia nodded once. “Yes,” she said quietly before glancing up at the drawbridge. When Luna made no attempt to move or otherwise encourage her, she then said, “How do we get in?”

Luna rolled her eyes again. “It’s a feather key,” she said, as if such were obvious.

Celestia frowned. “I’m a unicorn,” she said. “I haven’t got any feathers.”

Luna outstretched her wing further, flapping it twice. “Well, duh. Why do you think so many unicorns keep griffons?”

“Oh,” Celestia said. She cringed, looking at the tiny feathers that the griffon seemed to be offering up. “Are you sure?”

Luna sighed. “Of course! There’s no other way in, so I haven’t really got a choice anyway.” After a few moments of silence, she then huffed and turned her head, clasping a single feather between her beak and yanking it out with a muffled squeak. She then held it out tenderly, a small tear running down her cheek whilst she said, “Here ‘oo go.”

Celestia looked down to the pathetic, midnight blue feather. She cringed, but still took it ever so carefully in her aura. She floated it over to the drawbridge slowly. With a small gulp, she then pushed the feather into the lock and turned it—and the drawbridge gave a massive hiss. A rush of air pummelled her as it opened, and she barely had time to leap back before it fell with a boom, exposing the entrance to the castle building itself.

There were a few moments where Celestia merely stood still, heaving for breath as she eyed up the bridge cautiously. Finally, she then managed to say, “Okay, then.”

The little Luna-griffon landed back atop the unicorn’s back quietly, without so much as a grumble. All the same, she immediately got to work with pruning and straightening her remaining feathers. Thank the stars her plumage was generous; a sicklier griffon would’ve looked poor to lose even the one feather.

Celestia shook the unnerving thought off, trying not to think too much on Luna’s passing comment of “unicorns keeping griffons”. Stifling her own shudder, she instead turned to face forwards and rose into a very gentle trot, gliding across the cobblestone and up to the castle’s main doors.

It was now time to meet Princess Twilight Sparkle—and a massive sense of ice-cold dread washed over her. Because this wasn’t her Twilight. This was a different and completely independent mare; a mare who had likely suffered through the same hellish millennia as she, herself, had done. But where Celestia had had an extensive support network, it seemed that Princess Twilight Sparkle had been completely isolated and alone, left to work through her grief and to run a whole country.

And that was enough to drive anypony to insanity—let alone someone who already struggled with stress and anxiety.

Celestia shook her head to clear it of such thoughts and raised her hoof to the oak front door of the castle, pushing it open. It swung easily, as if there was absolutely no resistance. But, when she stepped hoof inside, she soon found out why.

Upon entering the castle’s atrium, the doors slammed shut behind her and she found herself suddenly stuck to the spot. She stared blankly at the hologram of a scroll which had appeared before her, a quill hovering next to it. At the very top a bold, underlined countdown ticked by, coloured in bright red letters which read, “provide your passcode”.

Twenty…

Nineteen…

She looked around quickly, surveying the room. It didn’t look so different to the atrium of her own castle, at least, although the stained glass was a lot less varied.

Ten…

Nine…

Eight…

With a sigh, Celestia reached out and took the quill in her hoof, amazed that a hologram could be handled in that manner. She then raised the quill upwards between her teeth, waiting for some sort of instruction from Luna. But none came, and when she turned her head backwards and shook it, a sudden paleness drained the colour from the griffon’s feathers.

Two…

One…

Zero.

The scroll vanished with an audible pop, dissolving into nothing. And then, just as Luna squawked suddenly and shot up into the air—only find her legs ensnared by metallic chains—four more holograms burst into life from each corner of the room. The pixels morphed and formed so that they made four perfect copies of massive, large chested stallions with the power to snap her legs clean off if they so wanted.

The holograms raised a foreleg, waiting patiently. And then, all of a sudden, massive spears formed in each outstretched hoof.

And then they began to move.