Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Early morning in Canterlot.

The capital of Equestria was golden in the glow of new day, dawn light angling beneath the cloud cover. In the still, frosty, air chimney pots trickled tendrils of smoke towards the grey blanket drawn over the city.

High above the city, a lone white alicorn watched the sunrise and saw that it was good.

Princess Celestia had felt the discharge of big magic just as she was raising the sun; she doubted that the timing was coincidence. How perfectly symbolic.

“A new era dawning,” she murmured as a new day dawned.

But Canterlot didn’t look any different, gleaming far below her rarefied eyrie.

The upper city shone gaudily in the early morning. Government offices, corporate headquarters, marble churches, flamboyant theatres, elegant shopping palisades, and many mansions. There was no hint, among the glamour and frufrurry, that the world would soon change. Comfortable in their beds, the pampered and privileged missed out the brief glory of dawn, not daring to dream what might be ahoof.

The lower city, so drab by day, was temporarily transformed to faeryland by the fleeting gold illumination. There she could see a more humble aspect of the realm. There one found the hard working ponies upon whose backs these illusions of importance were built. Gambrel-roofed cottages, with bleary bullseye glass windows lit as the working class prepared for their day’s labor. Fishmongers, iron workers, bakers and ten thousand other tradesponies would be at their stations and working before their nominal betters were even awake. Celestia wished that the artificial boundaries of class and station did not separate her from the so-called low born. But the throne was a gilded trap, she was bound with chains stronger than iron, her duty to the ponies she loved. She could not leave them without a protector. And she could no more walk among them as they were, than she could grab a single quanta with her hooves: to touch was to change and she could only dream from afar. Would their lives change after what would come next? Hopefully only for the better!

A million ponies, and more, dwelt in the capital metropolis. None would have any idea that change was coming, that Twilight had crossed a significant line.

And somehow the barrier spell felt like it collapsed from outside pressure rather bursting outward from the inside.

“How did you manage that, Twilight?”

If the purple mage had been present to answer these question, their roles might have been shockingly reversed. It would ruffle Celestia’s coat of alabaster, to find that her student was now a master.

The outbound spell breaking attempt only moments before had failed completely; somehow Twilight had turned her efforts about with a more powerful impulse from the opposite direction. Nothing in Twilight’s explanation of her plans, nor the rough draft of her spell, had prepared Celestia for such an effect. Pure genius.

“Truly, you are the wrong mare to underestimate.”

Celestia stared directly into the sunlight, focusing on the sunspots and prominences of the stellar surface.

“Those foalish lovers were supposed to spend a much longer time apart,” she said to the dawn orb as if it could advise her in this matter. “I’m just trying to save the world here. But Twilight is just too powerful for anypony to slow down for long. It would be no surprise at all if she’s already rendered the prophesy irrelevant. I can but hope you do not witness an end to ponies, my old friend.”

Sunrise was beautiful but there was an hour of morning rain scheduled and Celestia knew the bright circle would soon be hidden. Already the sun neared the layer of clouds. In a few minutes it would be too high to sneak its rays under the grey layer of gloom above the city. She sighed at the brief beauty of her work. Even a few minutes of pale sunlight would be a treat to early rising ponies who were out and about this time of day, something to brighten the hazy shade of winter.

“Ah, it has been whole minutes since Twilight finished her casting, I wonder what those two could possibly be doing?”

Celestia thought she had a pretty good idea what just might be on Twilight’s mind – at least the tension of the last weeks would be relieved.

“I would bet my crown she’s already getting covered, I pray he knocks her up. A foal will be just the thing!”

Surely that would ease certain transitions, and motherhood would be good for Twilight, too. And quite frankly, Celestia burned with curiosity to know what Twilight’s daughter would be like. How powerful would she be, could she be the one to— Well, no point in putting the cart before. At a bare minimum, eleven months of gestation would slow the purple powerhouse down for a while. Slow her down enough that they could finally discuss—

But was there really anything else to say at this point? With the crisis past, life, it seemed, was moving onward regardless.

Celestia turned from the balcony, happy to see the yak lying in her bed stir. Prince Tajrahaz was just blinking awake, only halfway following her rambling monologue.

“Yes,” she smiled, thinking of being able to spend more time with her lover, “I’ll certainly bet my crown on Twilight.”