Princess Twilight Sparkle gazed contemplatively out over the vast expanse of Bell Meadow from the high balcony adjacent to her chambers, perched high atop Canterlot palace. To her left, the tawny glow of first light was just beginning to brush aside the velvet curtain of the night sky, replacing it with an inflorescence of purples, reds, and blues and silhouetting the meadow’s dark hills in a shadowy cast.
The unearthly silence that is the sole province of the very early morning gave way only to the occasional hesitant chirp of a cricket, and the measured, “tap…tap...tap” of dew drops falling from the leaves of two decorative topiaries standing like two sentinels on either side of the princess’s doorway. The steadily dripping water seemed to mark every second that brought her closer and closer to the difficult reality she had to face in little more than an hour, shortly after the arrival of the morning train from Ponyville.
Another of many waves of emotion washed over Twilight. She squeezed her eyes shut, releasing from each of them a single tear which rolled down her soft cheeks and fell to join their fellows in the already damp patch of stone from which she had not moved since the sun had set the previous evening.
When she at last opened her eyes, she saw that the luminous golden orb of the sun was just beginning to peek up over the eastern horizon, revealing the distant mountains in craggy layers of varying shades of gray. A few moments later, the meadow before her seemed to come to life as the light of the rising sun caught the diamond-like drops of dew on each blade of grass and each flower petal, throwing out a blaze of colors as though the land were encrusted in acres upon acres of multicolored gemstones.
A warm ray of sunlight brushed her left cheek like a kiss more intimate than that of any lover. A slight whisper of wind from the south brought with it the honeyed fragrance of billions upon billions of wildflowers contrasted by the lush aroma of dew-laden grass. Twilight inhaled slowly, breathing in the aromatic effluvia as though she would never have the chance again. As her steady exhalation released the breath, she set her face in a stoic mask of determination and stood.
As she turned to face her chambers, the first sounds of life drifted up to her from the city below. Above the general din of the waking Canterlot, Twilight could hear the clatter of armor, bellowed commands of watch captains, and the rhythmic, “click-ity clack-ity” of iron-shod hooves on cobblestone as the night guard retired and the day guard took their place. In the distance, the echoing blast of a train whistle pierced the crisp morning air like a lance. It was time.
Twilight stopped for only a few moments to brush her wind-tousled mane and tail before the bedroom’s only mirror when she paused, staring strickenly into the dozens of smiling pony faces grinning merrily back at her from the many faded and tattered old photographs surrounding it. Again, she felt emotion welling up within her and she averted her gaze, trying to regain her composure.
Several long corridors and a few flights of granite stairs brought her to the curtain which stood between her private life and her public one. Stepping determinately forward, she passed onto the dais whereupon sat her solitary throne. A pang of loathing washed momentarily over her as she stopped briefly to stare at the unornamented chair of polished marble. In the fifty-two years since her ascension to the throne of Canterlot, that huge piece of white stone had been the source of very little joy. It had, quite frankly, taken everything from her. Her ability to choose her own path, free time with her dearest friends, the chance to raise a family...sweet Celestia, even her ability to die in a normal span of years had been forcibly ripped from her by the command which had been thrust upon her as scarcely more than a youth.
Another deep breath...another slow exhalation...
She stepped forward deliberately, head held level and eyes forward, displaying every bit of dignity at her command as she approached the throne. That chair was hers to command, not the other way around. Allowing anypony or anything else to take control of her emotions would spell disaster for Equestria. For more than half a century she had governed the land because it was her duty, regardless of whether or not it gave her pleasure. She took her seat.
Two guards stood in silence at the opposite end of the hall, their brightly polished steel armor reflecting ripples of light onto the walls and floor around them to mingle with the more brilliant gem-like colors from the sunlit stained glass windows. Twilight noticed that rather than depicting the shimmering magenta star of her cutie mark, the guards’ iron-rimmed shields bore the crest of Equestria, marking them as members of the Equestrian Army rather than her personal guard.
The council wasn’t joking. Our forces are short-staffed. I’ll need to speak with Gallus soon about this.
Scarcely five seconds had passed when two sharp knocks followed by three quicker knocks broke the silence. The princess breathed in, then out.
I can do this.
“Enter.”
Her even voice echoed like the tolling of a bell off the stone and glass of the throne room, signalling the two guards to pull open the pair of enormous wooden doors before which they stood. The oiled hinges made no noise as a figure slowly crossed the threshold, eight claws clacking distinctively against the polished floor. The straight well-kept blue feathers of an old griffon stood in stark contrast to the creature’s armor which, if it were possible, was polished even more brightly than that of the two stallions who had opened the doors.
The two guards saluted the griffon, who stopped and nodded in return, examining their condition momentarily before turning back to the purple alicorn seated on the throne.
Thank Celestia, it’s him.
Twilight motioned the griffon forward. Gallus signalled to the guards who exited the room, pulling the doors shut behind them with an echoing, “boom”.
The moment the doors were closed, Twilight stood and, donning the first genuine smile she’d made in days, walked gracefully over to the half-eagle, half lion who was in the process of removing his gleaming helmet and stuffing it quickly under his left wing..
“Your Majesty.” Gallus said as he began to bow, perhaps deeper perhaps than his old age should have permitted, when Twilight reached out with one leg and drew him back upright.
As she released him, the old creature looked questioningly back at her.
He looks so weary and careworn. A mark of his recent trials, perhaps? I know these personnel shortages haven’t been easy on anypony. I don’t understand why he insists upon turning down the opportunity for a strategic advisor’s position, which could only ease his burden.
“You don’t need to bow to me in private, my old friend.” Twilight said with a warm smile.
Gallus’ expression remained hard for a moment, but then he nodded, seeming to deflate a bit. With exhaustion? Impatience?
“My apologies, Your Majesty. Upholding the chain of command both day and night has become something of a habit with me, especially over these last months.”
Twilight turned and beckoned Gallus forward toward the marble throne.
“There is no need to apologize.” she said with a sigh. “If anything, the fault lies with me. I could have just ordered you to leave behind this interminable command ages ago. Is a promotion to lieutenant still not to your liking?”
Gallus smiled grimly, staring determinately at the ground as he walked beside the princess..
“Meaning no offense, Your Majesty, but sending others to die in my battles while I sit at a safe distance, sipping tea and getting fat, isn’t my style of fighting.”
The griffon turned his stern features to Twilight, who stopped to look at him.
“My purpose was never to lead the life of a commissioned officer.” A gleam came into Gallus’ eyes. “I was always meant to be a part of the company I lead. Even this commission as Captain of the Royal Guard is far too tame for my tastes.”
Twilight cocked her head to one side, causing the thin crown of gold on her head to tilt slightly off-kilter.
“And does your family feel the same?”
For the first time, Gallus’ features softened slightly and he averted his gaze.
“I...perhaps...perhaps not.” he said after a moment’s consideration, then went silent.
After several seconds, Twilight turned and sat down on one of the wide steps leading up to the dais, then gestured for Gallus to do the same. He joined her after a short hesitation, grunting and cursing quietly as his many hard-worn years announced their presence. Twilight shuddered as she watched him, a cold pity washing over her already overburdened heart. She should be sharing this pain with her friend...someone she had known since foalhood, but once again, her immortality had spared her from the ravages of age that plagued those she’d known.
It’s so strange. These aches and pains my friends experience...I...I crave them. I long for that connection. I long for the tangible proof of experience that only accompanies old age. But, alas...this too, I am denied.
Twilight quickly wiped a solitary tear from one eye as she asked, in as even a voice as possible, “How is your family, Gallus?”
The griffon gave a final sigh of relief as he settled into a sitting position.
“They’re quite well, I think.” he replied quietly.
“You think?”
Twilight turned and stared at him, realization hitting her.
I wonder when he last even saw his family.
“Gallus?”
He remained silent, staring down at his front claws.
Twilight huffed and stood abruptly, trotting over to stand in front of Gallus and staring down at him.
“Look here, bird brain, look up here and stop staring down at your claws as if they were your last meal.”
That got his attention. His eyes shot upward in surprise and his head, a bit slower, soon followed. His dumbstruck look soon turned to one of amused relief as he saw that the alicorn wore that quirky, lopsided grin that had always been peculiar to Twilight Sparkle.
“That’s better.” she said, her eyes dancing. “Since I’ve denied you the delectable morsels of your two front legs, I owe you and your family dinner.”
“Your Majesty, I couldn’t possibly…”
“This time next week, fifth hour of the evening, you can all meet me here in the throne room and we’ll dine in the great hall.”
“But, Your Majesty, my duties…”
“That’s an order, Captain.” Twilight said, still grinning as she turned to face the throne room doors.
Gallus forced himself slowly to his feet, nonplussed.
Before he could protest further, Twilight asked, “Your granddaughter is what now...five? Six years old?”
Gallus sighed resignedly, “Six, Your Majesty, as of the seventh of last month.”
Twilight looked delighted. She even reared slightly, clopping both her front hooves together with an almost foalish enthusiasm.
“Wonderful! And how is she liking the School of Friendship?”
“Truthfully, she is loving every minute of it. After Ocellus took over for Miss Starlight, I’ve been told the classes have become even more enjoyable for the students...not that Miss Starlight was a bad headmare...just…”
Twilight noticed his hesitation.
“Just a bit stiff and proper?” she finished for him with another one of her quirky grins.
“Precisely, Your Majesty.” Gallus replied, a grin of his own hitched precariously on his wrinkly old face.
“Starlight Glimmer was an amazing headmare...and an amazing friend.” Twilight said, her smile faltering.
We will all miss you, Starlight. May your star shine bright.
After a moment, the princess shook herself as though trying to keep from falling asleep.
“So! You didn’t come here for idle chatter, I presume?” she asked without a trace of sadness.
For a moment, Gallus seemed confused, then he perked up.
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. The Council of Friendship has arrived.”
“Very well.” she replied solemnly. “Please send them up. I would like to meet with them in the great hall.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” Gallus began apologetically with a slight bow, “but the Spellweaver’s Guild is preparing for their annual summit. Of course, I would be more than happy to ask them to move for the time being.”
It was now Twilight’s turn to look confused.
How could I possibly have forgotten that? What a strange, stressful week this has been.
“Luna’s pants!” Twilight said abruptly. “Silly of me! I completely forgot about…”
She was interrupted by an involuntary bark of laughter loud enough to echo off the walls, floor, and ceiling for several seconds before finally fading again to silence. Gallus stood looking chagrined, one foot held tightly over his beak as he shook with suppressed laughter. Twilight gazed questioningly at him, bemused.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” he finally said after the fit subsided somewhat. “But, ‘Luna’s pants’?”
Twilight laughed.
“Oh, goodness!” she said, chuckling. “I picked that one up from Applejack ages ago. I…”
She frowned slightly, forehead knitting before she changed course, “I’m sorry, Gallus. I would spend all day talking with you, but that will have to wait until dinner next week. Please just send the council in here instead of the hall. I’m sure we can manage. As soon as you can, would you please also have one of the staff send in six chairs?”
Gallus bowed.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Twilight turned and made as though to walk past Gallus, back toward her throne, but she stopped beside him.
“Dinner, one week from today, my friend. You and your family. Five o’clock.” she said with a grin before proceeding to the dais.
Gallus turned and bowed again, “Of course, Your Majesty.”
As Gallus turned and walked slowly back toward the throne room doors, Twilight thought deeply of what she was about to ask of the Council of Friendship. How would Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie respond? Would the product of thirty-seven years of intensive, nearly obsessive research be welcomed by her friends? Or would it be scorned? She felt impure, unwholesome, tainted, for the request she would make. It had kept her up many a night, and none more than the previous one. If they acquiesced, her spell would change Equestria...the world even. If not? Well, what then? The pain of even considering that possibility ran so deep she didn’t think could stomach it. The only thing worse than that was the dreaded sense of uncertainty that hung over her like a smothering cloud.
“Tap...tap...tap...tap tap tap.”
The throne room doors opened with a low “click” just enough for the griffon to step through the narrow gap, then, with a “clank” and a “thud”, Twilight was alone.
