Panic descended on Canterlot, after the Sun had not risen on what was supposed to be the longest day of the year. Ponies crowded the streets. Some cried, some cursed, others just walked aimlessly, but most talked in hushed, fearful voices, exchanging one or another of a thousand stories that circulated throughout the Capital, each less plausible than the previous.
In the middle of it all, Shining Armour found himself more frustrated than scared or anything else. As the Prince Consort, he was really powerless, a stipend and the (admittedly luxurious) mansion in the high class district of Canterlot, rather than influence, being the privileges that came with his position. His frustration grew tenfold once the captain of the Guard started throwing his weight around, and ordered all civilians off the streets. That was when Shining learned, to his dismay, that his title was only good enough to merit ‘respectfully’ and ‘your highness’ when being told to remain home.
His anger did not abate even hours later, and the lunch he shared with his wife, princess Cadence, and their little daughter, Flurry Heart, was a tense affair, strangely out of place in their cozy dining room, with its pink walls and warm, gentle lighting of magi-lamps. Neither of the adults spoke, Shining stabbing at his grilled vegetables with a fork, while Cadence persisted in her futile efforts to feed the child. A relief finally came in the form of the family butler, a grey unicorn stallion, stepping into the room. Even in the middle of the crisis with possibly apocalyptic consequences he was impeccably groomed and wore a suit ironed to perfection.
“Your highnesses,” he greeted, bowing slightly.
“What is it, Whinnykins?” Cadence asked, all the while not losing a beat, and using the distraction of his arrival to stuff a spoonful of soup into her daughter’s mouth.
“I’m sorry to disturb during a meal, your highnesses, but the Prime Minister is here to see you.”
“What does she want?” Cadence’s eyes narrowed and the utensil she held in her telekinesis froze midair, “I believe I made it abundantly clear she is not welcome in our house.”
“I’m afraid she did not share the reason for her visit with me, Princess,” answered the old servant, “However, I would presume it has to do with the current… situation.”
“I’ll go talk to her.” Shining Armour volunteered, jumping from his seat, eager to leave the dining room and its oppressive atmosphere. Cadence nodded.
“Good, do it,” she said, “Just don’t bring her here, please.”
The prince grunted in agreement and followed Whinnykins downstairs, through the hall and finally outside the manor’s main entrance. There, in the unnatural night, a group of five ponies stood. Four of them were huge stallions of the guard, easily recognisable by the way their armour reflected the manor’s lights and the way it clanked each time they moved. In their midst stood a smaller figure of a mare. Due to her dark coloration, she would be hardly visible if not for a weak flame of a cigarette, that gave away only the vaguest outlines of her face. Immediately after she saw the door open, she levitated what remained of the cigarette out of her mouth and incinerated it with a quick blast of magic. She puffed out a cloud of smoke, and started towards the manor, finally entering the pool of light emanating from the lanterns on the porch.
Once he could finally make out the details, the prince found himself surprised at the state the mare was in. Her mane, violet with a pink stripe, usually made so immaculately that the long running joke had it that all rulers in the country were checked for straightness by comparing them to her bangs, was frazzled, with loose hair sticking out. There were dark circles under her eyes. She swayed on her hooves slightly, as if she hadn’t slept for a very long time, which, Shining suspected, might have been true. Even her well-tailored business suit was crumpled and there was a coffee stain on her collar, just above the little, golden pin of the Equestrian Unity Party, depicting the party logo, a winged and horned horseshoe.
“May I come in, Shining?” she asked, though it sounded more like a statement.
“I suppose so, Twilight,” the stallion answered cautiously, moving to the side to let her pass, “If whatever you want to talk about made you come here, it must be important enough.”
The mare did not answer and addressed the guards instead.
“Willywaw, Sentry!” she barked over her shoulder in a voice that was surprisingly crispy for someone looking ready to collapse from exhaustion, “You guard the door! Crosswind, Dust, you’re dismissed. You can go back to the Castle to get some rest.”
Barely waiting for a chorused, ‘yes ma’am!’ she went inside, passing her host and his servant.
Shining led the mare to his office, a somewhat smallish room at the far end of the mansion. As soon as they entered, he invited the guest to sit on a cushion by the oaken desk that resided in the centre of the room and promptly took the opposite spot. Whinnykins entered the room as well, following the pair, and waited for them to get comfortable.
“Would you like anything to drink, Your Highness? Madam Prime Minister?” he asked politely, addressing each pony in turn.
“Thank you, Whinnykins,” Shining shook his head.
“Madam Prime Minister?” repeated the servant.
The mare turned towards the brown pony for the briefest moment.
“Bring a glass of whiskey for each of us,” she said.
“Twilight,” Shining protested, “You know that I don’t drink.”
“You will,” she insisted, “once you hear what I have to say. Two glasses of whiskey, mr. Whinnykins.”
The butler looked towards his master, who just waved his hoof in exasperation.
“Whatever the prime minister says, Whinnykins,” Shining said, causing the other stallion to bow his head respectfully and leave.
“So…” the prince started tentatively, once they were alone, “what is it? I assume it has something to do with this.” he waved his foreleg, vaguely indicating the darkness outside the tall window to his left.
“Yes.” Twilight let out a heavy breath as she massaged her forehead with her hoof. A long while passed like this, before she steeled herself and spoke.
“Shining,” she started, with urgency in her voice but was immediately interrupted, when the servant returned with the drinks. He carefully placed two frosty glasses in front of the two unicorns and left without a word, satisfied with a quick bow of thanks from his employer. The mare did not acknowledge him in any way and simply drank the alcohol in one big gulp.
“Shining,” she spoke again, more composed this time, but tense still, “Celestia is gone.”
The prince’s mind went blank.
“What?” he uttered, “What do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?”
“She’s dead, Shining.”
“Heavens above,” the prince whispered, slumping in his chair. The whiskey indeed suddenly seemed like a good idea. He grabbed the glass in his magic, and dried it in a long swig.
“What happened, Twilight?” he asked, once the alcohol started working, and he trusted his voice to not shake.
“Do you recall the legend of Nightmare Moon?” she began, in a tone dripping with irony. Seeing Shining's incredulous expression, Twilight was quick to go on.
“Yeah, I know this sounds ridiculous,” she said with a derisive snort, “I would hardly believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”
Silence reigned for a few seconds, then the stallion spoke up again, his voice heavy.
“So what… what comes now? Eternal night?”
“What? No, no… No!” Twilight took a breath to compose herself and went on, “Celestia took the monster with her… Eventually. Her initial plan was to use some sort of an ancient artifact she had just for the occasion. Only…” she took a ragged breath, “It failed. For whatever reasons, that her highness did not deign to share with me, the thing needed a group of ponies to operate it. And not just random ones, mind you.” She paused, and looked deep into her brother’s eyes. There was pain in her gaze, “They were just some dumb kids, Shining!”
“What--” the prince started, but was promptly cut off.
“I will spare you the gruesome details, as I would rather forget them myself,” Twilight said, holding her hoof up and shaking her head, as if hoping she can get rid of unwanted memories this way. "Suffice to say that the Nightmare made sure nopony else would dare to try to use the weapon against her."
“After the Princess saw what the monster did,” she went on after a second, “she hit it with some magic the like of which I have never seen in my life. There was a blinding light, and afterwards there were only ashes in their place. No other trace of her nor the Nightmare.”
Shining Armour opened a drawer and pulled a kerchief out of it to wipe his brow. He searched for some words to say for a long moment, but found none, and just looked back at his sister. Before he realised what he was doing, he reached over the desk, intent on touching her hoof with his own. She quickly withdrew her own foreleg, and sat straighter, fixing him with a glare from her narrowed eyes.
“What are you doing, brother?” she asked, in a tone that made Shining immediately regret his gesture, “I’m not some little filly that needs comforting. This is not why I came here.”
Shining pulled his hoof back with a hurt expression. Just like that, the moment was lost, and the gulf between them was just as deep as it had been for years. It seemed the flash of anger threw Twilight out of her gloom, as she managed to bring her face to a good approximation of her usual dispassionate expression.
“I came here to talk business.” she said, leaning closer again.
Shining studied her face for a few seconds, his jaw slowly tensing and a blush gradually showing on his cheeks.
“Right,” he said finally, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “I supposed you didn’t just come here to tell me about the death of your mentor and lifelong friend! Not to mention the possible end of the world! No, you came here to ask me to participate in some dirty scheme of yours!”
“Oh, spare me this nonsense.” Twilight muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Well, forgive me for having some equine feelings!”
“Shining…” she said in a tired voice, “I am upset, just like everyone else. But I need to get over this as I have a country to run. As to the ‘end of the world’, I have a plan to avoid it, and this is the dirty scheme, as you put it, that I need to talk to you about.”
The white stallion shook his head sadly, relenting.
“Alright. Let’s hear it,” he said, not looking at the other unicorn.
“Get your wife down here,” Twilight requested, inclining her head slightly to indicate the door.
“Twilight,” Shining shook his head. “She won’t talk to you. Especially now… I mean, once she hears the news.”
The mare pondered for a moment, fixing her brother with a cold gaze. Finally she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily.
“Fine,” she said simply. She rummaged in her bag for a second, produced a few sheets of paper, stapled together, and placed them on the desk.
“What is this?” Shining asked, as he eyed the document suspiciously.
“It is a draft of a new constitution.”
“Why…” he began cautiously, swallowed, and went on, “why would you need a new constitution, Twilight?” his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “And how come you have it so soon?”
“Shining…” the female unicorn drawled, “I’ve had this thing ready for years. As a contingency, before you ask.” She looked at the prince pointedly. “And answering your other question: without the Princess, the world has become a much more dangerous place and I would like to make sure Equestria is not threatened. Meanwhile, executive prerogatives of the PM are too limited to ensure quick and decisive action.”
“Twilight, you can’t just change the constitution because you want more power.”
“Of course I can!” the mare huffed, “That’s why there are provisions that specify how to do this!”
“The constitution worked perfectly well for more than five hundred years!” Shining raised his voice, “Not to mention that for many it’s something… almost sacred!”
“And now completely useless, as it mentions Celestia by name!” Twilight spat back.
The siblings glared at each other in tense silence, that lasted for several heartbeats. Finally, Twilight spoke once again.
“As soon as the parliament gathers, opposition parties are going to call for the vote of no confidence. While the Equestrian Unity Party will support me, I have no illusions as to Blueblood’s loyalty. The coalition will crumble, we are going to have snap elections that the EUP will most probably win by a margin too narrow to form a government and, in effect, we are going to have a constitutional crisis while the world falls into pieces all around.”
“Let me get this straight,” Shining cut in, collected again, “you are going to lose your premiership and possibly parliamentary majority… and you intend to introduce a new constitution? I may hate the why, but now the most important question becomes how?”
“That’s where you come in,” she stated, in a businesslike manner, “or rather, where your wife and the rest of the Lovey-Dovey party come in.”
“She’s not going to go along with this. Neither will the rest of the Lib-Dems.”
“Hear what I have to say first, then judge.” Twilight retorted, making her brother roll his eyes and wave his foreleg, prompting her to continue.
“If I were to propose something like this”- she indicated the papers in front of her with a slight motion of her head - “nopony would ever think to support me. But now, imagine this instead: shortly after the Sun raises, everyone’s favourite princess of love makes a public statement. She expresses grief at the tragic death of her beloved aunt, and announces that she’s taken up the sacred duty of bringing forth the day. Soon after, she proposes to introduce a new constitution, to formalise her position, which passes through the parliament without trouble with the EUP, the NCs and the LD voting for it. With her popularity, it is quickly confirmed in a referendum. Voilà. Crisis averted. The constitution names her the Queen, and with an alicorn at the top, we don’t have to fear neither a war with the griffins, nor one between Saddle Arabia and Zebrica, nor any other such nonsense.”
The prince worked his jaw for a moment, fixing the other unicorn with a glare.
“What do you get out of it?” he asked bluntly, deciding against dancing around the issue.
To his surprise and unease, Twilight smiled slightly.
“The draft,” she tapped the papers in question with her hoof, “foresees introduction of the State Council, meant to be the supreme executive power. It would effectively take over the current duties of the monarch and the PM, with all decisions taken collectively. It’s supposed to count nine members, two of which are going to be the Queen and her consort. Of the remaining seven, two are to be appointed by the Queen, four by the parliament, and the remaining seat is reserved for the head of the Arcanum.”
“Clever,” Shining judged, grimacing, “That’s how you intend to have the so-called ‘Noble Cause’ vote for this. Blueblood is going to go for a place in this… Council.”
“Yes.”
The white unicorn pondered for a second. Something was amiss.
“Still… even with the head of the Arcanum, this… Starlight Glimmer… being your lackey, you’re far from controlling the council with just three votes. I mean, as I assume the Parliament will appoint both you and your perpetually angry girlfriend alongside Blueblood and this or another of his minions. I don’t believe for a second you’d settle for anything less.”
“First of all,” Twilight said, “for the record: since last autumn equinox, Sunset is my wife.”
The prince blinked in genuine surprise.
“I had no idea.” he said.
“Little wonder. It’s not like I come for a little chat over tea too often,” the mare responded sarcastically, “it was a quiet affair with just a few closest friends.” She paused for a second. “And she’s not perpetually angry, she’s merely a bit temperamental.”
Shining blew out a breath in disbelief, but did not comment on the matter.
“Coming back to the point,” Twilight continued, ignoring him, “I expect her future majesty to be… receptive to suggestions when choosing her appointees.”
“Why?” The prince raised his eyebrow.
“Because” - Twilight looked at the stallion intensely - “she is not going to be the one actually raising the Sun, brother dear.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Shining said after hesitating for a moment, “you just said…”
“I said she’s going to announce she will be raising the Sun, but this is going to be a lie. Judging by how this discussion is progressing you are not aware, but she simply does not have the power for this.”
“How come you know this, then?”
“I’ve seen the results of her medical examination. It included her thaumic profile.”
Shining narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Twilight preempted him.
“Health of the royals is considered a matter of national security,” she explained, causing the stallion to close his mouth and clamp down on his anger a bit.
“Who’s going to raise it, then? You?” he asked after a second or two, not bothering to mask his disdain.
“Yes,” she said unphased, “well, not alone, of course. But we, it is to say, Sunset, Starlight and I, are confident we can pull this off using a little ritual we’ve devised.”
“Even more power to your little circle of friends.” Shining shook his head. “Why would you even need Cadence in this?”
“I need her to be a symbol.”
“A figurehead, you mean?”
“No,” Twilight said, forcefully, “a symbol. A reminder, to all the kings, emperors, tyrants and despots out there, as to why it is Equestria that is the leading world power, and it is thanks to the magic and the might of the Alicorns!”
“In other words, you need a means of intimidation,” the prince said, distaste clear in his voice.
“In a way, yes.” The mare rolled her eyes impatiently.
“This is not what Equestria should be!” Shining protested, “We are not a… a bully! We stand for harmony and peaceful coexistence! Our moral principles!”
“Much good they will do to you when griffin armies besiege Canterlot.”
“Do you really believe this can happen?” the stallion asked incredulously.
“It might. But the point is that moral principles mean nothing without power to defend and enforce them.”
“Twilight, it is precisely because we’re more powerful that the other nations are wary of us! They perceive us as superior and consider it a justification for aggression!”
“Shining, by the stars,” exclaimed Twilight, “This is a sophism and you know it!”
“Well, I happen to believe it!” Shining shot back.
“Then I think you’ve listened to your wife’s imbecilic ramblings for too long!”
“Twilight! I couldn’t care less what you think of Cadence, but you will not insult her in my presence! Is that understood?”
“Can it, I don’t care,” the mare spat.
Shining inhaled sharply, and spoke again, in a cold voice of barely contained fury.
“Not only do you come to me to make morally reprehensible offers, but you dare insult my wife and a princess on top of that, to my face,” he said. “This conversation is over. See yourself out, Prime Minister.” He raised his foreleg to point at the door.
Twilight rose from her seat, but made no move to exit. Instead, she fixed her brother with a dangerous glare.
“This conversation might be over, Your Highness,” she began, ”but it is only because you’re now going to go upstairs, and make your wife accept my offer.” She silenced her brother with a raised foreleg. “Because if you don’t, I have every intention of making a similar one to prince Blueblood.”
Seeing Shining’s eyes widen a bit, she went on, “Yes. Imagine the world, with Equestria at the lead, ruled by King Blueblood and Queen Consort Rarity Belle. Is that something you would like to see?”
“You wouldn’t.” The prince blanched.
“Try me,” the mare hissed through clenched teeth.
“You won’t have enough votes in the Parliament to pass the new constitution!” exclaimed Shining.
“Then I’ll make concessions to the mud pony Popular Party and the featherbrain Front to get it through!” Twilight shouted in turn.
The siblings looked each other in the eyes for a moment, the sister with anger, the brother with fear. Then, Twilight closed her eyes and took a slow, calming breath. When she spoke, her voice was again businesslike.
“I’m going out for a smoke.” She pulled a slim cigarette out of a pocket of her suit with her magic. “You have fifteen minutes to convince your wife to go along, or so help me, if Blueblood becomes the King, I will personally petition him to make you the Duke of Sydneigh.”
And with that, she stomped out the door.
***
In countless places all over the Equestria and beyond its borders, ponies gathered in front of the radio receivers, anxiously awaiting the news. Many sat in their living rooms, with their partners and children, some with their neighbours, some were alone.
Some, like the workers of “Harmony” steelworks in Baltimare were in their workplace, one or another in turn sneaking out of the morning shift to the staff room to check if new information was to be broadcast.
Others yet were far away from their homes and loved ones, like the crewmares gathered in the mess hall of battleship HDHS Hurricane, on patrol in high seas.
But they all heard the same transmission when twelve AM came, and the Sun finally creeped over the horizon, as unexpectedly as it failed to rise in the first place.
The speakers, so far playing gentle orchestral pieces, went silent for a second, and then, as was customary at noon, the sombre sound of the great bell of the Canterlot Castle clocktower could be heard twelve times.
Then, at last, the presenter went on air.
“This is Radio Canterlot,” he said in a shaking voice, clearly only by the greatest effort and years of professional experience keeping himself from breaking down, “It is with the greatest regret, that we make the following statement.”
He paused for a heartbeat, taking a breath.
“It was announced today, at eleven fifty AM, that her divine highness, princess Celestia, has died a hero’s death when defending our world from the evil from beyond mortal realms. In a moment you are going to hear a special address by Prime Minister Twilight Sparkle.”
There was a moment of silence, then a crack. Finally the voice of the mare, favoured by many, loathed by even more, could be heard over the radio.
“Citizens of Equestria and the world,” she said, “it is with heavy heart that I address you this day. The loss of Princess Celestia, our beloved princess and protector, comes to all of us as a shock.
“For now, let us mourn. Let us honor this great soul, that led us through the hardships and challenges since times immemorial. Let us forever remember her bravery and her ultimate sacrifice, that saved the world from the horrible fate of eternal darkness.
“Let us not lose ourselves to despair, however, for not all is lost yet. The sacred duties of bringing forth the day and the night were taken over by young princess Cadence, and the life of the world shall go on, despite being made less by the absence of princess Celestia.
“Let us unite in this moment of trial, and stand together, working for a common goal, that is the good of Equestria, for as long as we live, it lives as well.”
The aether went silent for a few seconds, then the solemn tunes of the Equestrian National Anthem could be heard.
And so, to the sounds of the song that declared peace and friendship for all, a new, darker age began.
Author's Note
That's it.
My first story I deemed good enough to publish anywhere.
If you've had half as much fun reading this as I had when writing (and I've had quite a lot), I consider this a success :)
Comments are welcome, especially ones focused on the technical aspects!
