With Sunset Comes the Night

by astrolatryy

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Luna, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Princess Celestia, Sunset Shimmer
Length: 35580

The most loyal of Luna's servants goes by the name Sunset Shimmer.

To assist her in her duties, Princess Celestia has the ancient bloodline of Inkwells; a role passed down through their family through generations, from mother to daughter, father to son.

And Princess Luna?

Luna has Sunset Shimmer.

Written for the Choices - Species Change Contest.

Special thanks to my lovely beta readers Sadie, Chloe, and Josie for helping me proofread this and beating my inner critic back with a stick. <3

Published 2022-11-23 04:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-11-23 04:00:00 UTC

He Who Guards His Way Protects His Life

"The Apple family used to live near the Canterlot ruins?" Twilight asks, her eyes wide. "I had no idea! That's fascinating—we lived in the same village, we could have crossed paths! When did you and your family live there?"

"Ah, it's nothin'," Applejack replies, scratching the back of her neck with a hoof awkwardly. "Scavengin' is just th' family business, y'know? Ever since Granny Apple was the first to venture into th' ruins and come back alive. There's really nothin' to it."

"Oh, Applejack, you don't have to be humble," Twilight says, leaning forward from where she's seated. "It's really an amazing thing, being able to explore the ruins. Even talented spellcasters couldn't deal with some of the monsters there! It took all six of us to venture down there and defeat Nightmare Moon when she came back."

Cadence's palace in the Crystal Empire feels just like home—after all, Twilight grew up under Celestia's wing, and her hoofsteps echo the same down the long, opulent halls whether those hallways are in celestial white or crystalline blue. But she can understand why some of her friends might not feel the same. Applejack looks positively out of place against the fancy fabrics and ornately carved pillars.

Twilight figured she'd be better off in this place with a distraction; something to remind her of home. So she'd asked—and that's how she learned Applejack grew up in the exact same village she did, right on the outskirts of the Canterlot ruins.

"I guess," Applejack says, rubbing at the back of her neck some more.

"Well, it's fascinating to me," Twilight insists, smiling kindly at her.

"Oh, you're just flatterin' me," Applejack replies, but Twilight gets something of a smile in kind, and that's enough for her.

"What was it like? You must have seen some incredible pieces of history down there—were you ever in the Palace of the Two Sisters before?"

"There's the history nerd I know," Applejack says, tilting her head teasingly to get a bit of laughter out of Twilight in response. "As a matter of fact, I have. Though Nightmare Moon really changed up the place—it looked totally different after she came back. She really made it a doozy to navigate even after we defeated her."

Oh, Twilight's practically vibrating now. She's got a witness to real history right in front of her. She has things to say—questions to ask! "I have a question for you, then, if you don't mind me asking."

"Lay it on me."

"So—there's this theory that ponies, scholars who have been studying the sisters all their lives, have been debating about for years. You know how Celestia has had the Inkwell line to serve her, for thousands and thousands of years, even before Luna was banished to the moon?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, some ponies think Princess Luna had a servant, too—a powerful one. And I was wondering if, y'know, you found any evidence or—"

Applejack holds up a hoof to stop her, seeming amused at her enthusiasm. "Y'know, if you really want to know, you could just ask Luna."

"Oh, I know," Twilight says, looking sheepish. "But I don't want to pry, you know? What if she's still sore about what happened before she was banished? Those must have been dark times for her—I don't want to bring up bad memories!"

Applejack huffs. "I'm sure she'd tell you if she was bothered by you askin', Twi, but fair enough.

"As for your question… I never saw anything pointing to somethin' like that myself, but I saw the second throne in the palace a few times. I asked Granny about it one day 'cause I was curious. At the time, I thought it was just some old mares' tale, but…"

A thousand years ago…

Lady Luna holds no court.

Lady Luna needs no court; Lady Luna does not spend her days consorting with idiot nobles and dignitaries who couldn't tell their faces from their rears—ponies who spend their days begging for every scrap of praise to nourish their fragile egos, who get offended if a wrinkle of one's cravat is out of place. So it is a surprise when Sunset Shimmer feels the magic of Lady Luna's call at the back of her mind, laced with the implication that somepony wants to see her.

Still, she is Luna's loyal servant, as always, and she will answer.

Her leathery wing reaches out to the shadows and twists with the power of her gifted magic. With a hoofstep and a breath, she's somewhere else; veiled in the darkness of Luna's throne, looking out at the royal blue fabrics of Canterlot's night palace. There on the carpet stretching the length of the throne room, from the foot of the throne to the base of the two huge double doors that permit entry, is a noblepony clad all in royal finery, overwrought cloak and all.

There is a simpering look on his face that makes Sunset want to sneer. "Princess," he says, and the nobleborn accent in his voice makes her hate him even more. "I simply think the tithes leveled upon the nobility by your sister are… ah, a little bit of an overreach. Of course we must all give for the Crown, and I am more than happy to give tribute to Her Majesty's noble sunlight, but… my lady, could you simply not put in a word or two for me? As her sister, you must have considerable sway at her side."

Lady Luna's expression is like ice; nearly unreadable. Her bright eyes regard the noble who is all but begging at the seat of her throne impassively. But Sunset is watching, and for a moment those eyes flick to her—and she can see, just for a moment, the shadow of a restrained grin in her the line of her mouth.

Ah. So she has been called to her Lady's side for noble reasons indeed. Sunset has been called to her Lady's side to show this arrogant fool what happens to those who waste Lady Luna's time.

Sunset would wear a grin of her own if the flash of her fangs wouldn't reveal her in the shadows. She makes do with a subtle uptick in the corner of her mouth and a narrowing of the eyes; watching both Lady Luna and this snivelling petitioner in turn, waiting for her moment.

"Do you think this request is an acceptable use of Our time?" her Lady asks, danger flashing in the curve of her mouth, of the tightening of her wings.

The noblepony huffs, tilting his head up as if he is somehow superior to this keeper of the night, the Lady of the Moon. "I simply think my words deserve to be heard, your Majesty. Shouldn't the Crown listen to everypony's problems?"

"Celestia is beholden to listen to the problems of the populace," Lady Luna says, staring him dead in the eyes. "You will find that We do not perform the same duties as Our sister."

"I hoped you would be more reasonable than her, your Majesty," the noblepony says—perhaps sensing her Lady's patience waning, choosing to try and grovel, now. "Surely you must not agree with everything she says?"

"Perhaps," Lady Luna says. "Perhaps you will also find that We are far less lenient in Our rulings than she may be."

"Your Majesty—"

"Silence!" her Lady cries. The Royal Canterlot Voice rattles the stained glass in its panes—forces the noblepony down to his knees in a vicious shockwave. "We have had enough of your impetuous presence. We hold no court. We are not bound to the petty cries of blubbering noblefolk, especially not those who would continue to waste Our precious time with bargains and demands. Our sister likely rejected you kindly, with gentle words and gaze. We will not offer you the same forbearance."

Lady Luna raises one dark wing, tilting her head back and closing her eyes; knowing Sunset will respond without having to look.

Sunset's expression splits in a full-face grin; she raises her blood-red wings ever so slightly to bolster her silhouette as she stalks out of the shadows. The noblepony visibly startles, scrabbling back with his hooves slipping on the royal carpet.

Lady Luna's voice echoes heavy through the throne room. "Leave Us."

Sunset flares her wings to full length in a heavy snap!; bares her fangs just a little more and hisses in the back of her throat, soft and low and deadly. The noblepony locks up, eyes wide and terrified and close to tears. Sunset stalks closer.

A few more steps, and the noblepony finds the resolve in him to move—he spins on his hooves and bolts, stopping only to shove open the double doors. He's long gone by the time the doors fall shut again.

For a moment, Sunset just stands there, wings still flared wide, bathing in her triumph; bathing in the sheer joy of terror.

There is a soft giggle from behind her.

She turns, and her Lady has a hoof to her mouth; a strangled expression writ upon her face, mouth pursed in a thin line, trying and almost failing to hold laughter back.

Sunset cants her head and smiles at her, folding her wings back at her sides. "Can I eat him if he comes back again?"

Her Lady's resolve breaks. Little giggles turn to full-fledged cackling as the dam bursts; Lady Luna leans back in her throne and lets loose, one hoof pounding at the throne's arm as the other braces herself against the throne to prevent herself from falling out entirely.

And Sunset?

Sunset's there with her, throwing her head back as she laughs too, a raucous sound that fills the throne room and echoes with Lady Luna's until it's all she can hear—just the two of them, laughing in the shared joy of being monstrous.

Sunset loves many things of the night. Of course she does; she's built for it. Sharp-slit eyes to pierce the darkness; leathery skin to blend in against the sky. Fangs and wings for monstrous emphasis, to truly drive home the point that she is built for when the sun falls and her Lady rises; to be by her side, to strike terror into Equestria's foes.

The one trait of the night that Sunset could never get used to, however, is the cold. The few other batponies she's interacted with don't seem to have this problem—or else, they have ways around it, cuddling up to each other in their caves and using companionship to ward away the chill.

Her coat makes it worse. Batponies don't have the same kind of fur the other tribes do; she is happy for her form, because being a lowly earth pony or pegasussounds far worse than being a batpony does, but her fur is short and close to her skin and her wings are exposed entirely, meaning she relies only on her inner fire to warm her at Lady Luna's side.

Being in Princess Celestia's presence is a relief in this sense. Lady Luna is all cold chill and empty darkness, but Princess Celestia is the fiery warmth of a sun that has burned for a thousand years and will burn for thousands more still. She's bright, yes, and hard on the eyes in the early mornings where tiredness has begun to set in and Sunset longs for the blankets of her chambers, but she can't deny that there's a certain relief in the way the princess strides up to the breakfast table and her warmth washes over her.

Princess Celestia has just set the sun into motion for the day, but already she is in her royal finery, gold shimmering against a pure white coat. From her place at Lady Luna's side, Sunset sees the princess of the night raise her brows just slightly.

"Are We showing off at the dinner table, dear sister?" Lady Luna says, emphasizing the word sister, tone subtly sarcastic.

"I have a meeting with a noblepony in a few minutes," Princess Celestia says, her face warmly impassive. "He insisted on being seen at my earliest convenience."

"I was of the belief that convenience is supposed to be for you, sister," her Lady remarks.

The edge of her mouth quirks in a poorly-suppressed snort. "And yet. Tell me, Luna, have you spoken with any nobility recently?"

There is a glint in Princess Celestia's eyes. Sunset has a feeling she knows where this is going.

"You ask this like you don't already know the answer," Lady Luna replies.

"Then you can surely guess my point," the princess says. "As much as I give you free reign to deal with the populace your… own way, Luna, I would appreciate if you didn't do it in such a way that made my duties more difficult."

"And I have always wondered at your lenience for the nobles. We may be the protectors of these little ponies, but should that mean We have to tolerate every sniveling, arrogant fool who comes Our way? We have no Night Court for a reason. If one cannot look past their own nose for long enough to realize that, they deserve what happens to them."

"It is important to retain good relations with the nobles, Luna," Princess Celestia reminds her, patiently, like Lady Luna has not heard this before. It is not the first time the two sisters have had this debate over their attitudes towards the ponies they rule, if not with this exact framing.

Sunset has always taken Lady Luna's side in this regard, much to Princess Celestia's mild irritation. Princess Celestia is a valuable mentor; she's taught her as much as her Lady has about magic, and even more about how to interact with other ponies, the fine art of how to get a pony to do what one wants. One of her few flaws is her endless tolerance towards ponies that would stop bringing these problems up if Princess Celestia would simply make it clear that stupid questions and meetings to stroke the ego are not to be tolerated.

"It seems like that is the duty you've forced upon yourself, Celestia," Lady Luna retorts.

Princess Celestia sighs, shaking her head slightly. "We will continue this conversation later," she says, as if both of them don't know that Lady Luna will not allow herself to be found for such a thing. "For now, I must attend to my meeting."

With that, she stands. The princess is out of the room in just a few strides of her long legs; her food at the table is untouched.

Feeling impetuous, Sunset waits for the last of her flowing mane to leave the room, then darts across the table, snapping up the strawberries and cream that Princess Celestia left behind with a few bites of her teeth.

"Sunset Shimmer!" Lady Luna admonishes. Sunset turns to her and grins, showing off the frosting smeared all over her fangs like fluffy clouds.

Her Lady doesn't mean her words. She knows this because it only takes a few moments for Lady Luna to break composure and laugh at the sight, her eyes bright with mirth.

"I suppose if my dear sister wasn't going to eat it…" she says, and Sunset snorts, licking the last of the frosting off her fangs.

Strictly speaking, Sunset does not have to be at her Lady's side her every waking moment. Indeed, she isn't: she's her loyal servant, not a bodyguard. Often she is out doing her Lady's dirty work; dealing with ponies in Lady Luna's stead, or slipping through the shadows for spywork, using her talents to dig up their enemies' dirty laundry. Princess Celestia is the flaming sword and shield of the realm, the glowing knight to strike down evil when it stands against Equestria; Lady Luna lives in her shadow, the cloak and dagger that digs up evil where it hides.

Equestria is a hard-fought realm, its safety won through battle after battle, fighting back the darkness that looms at the realm's edges. The griffons may rebel and the dragons may pillage; other, nameless evils may infiltrate seeking to destroy; but as long as the Diarchs still stand, Equestria will not fall.

Much of Sunset's life these days is occupied with these things, but in her free time—or simply when her Lady wills it—she acts as Lady Luna's shadow.

Technically, she is no bodyguard, (that role falling to Lady Luna's Night Guard), but Sunset knows she has the skills to act as one should her Lady require it. And besides, they both enjoy the company.

Lady Luna is perhaps one of the few ponies whose presence Sunset will tolerate for an extended length of time. Princess Celestia is up there, too, as Sunset does enjoy talking to her—but Princess Celestia seems constantly weighed down by her obsession with social niceties and appeasing even the ponies she does not need to. Perhaps she is used to being loved in the way her and Lady Luna aren't.

In either case, although she enjoys her time in Princess Celestia's presence, inevitably if they're forced to talk too long or about the wrong things, the princess will often set upon instilling things such as the value of a good reputation or the morality of not going behind ponies' backs, and that often gets Sunset to sniping at her and getting irritated when Princess Celestia shrugs all her remarks off with the endlessly warm, patient facade she's so skilled at putting on.

Lady Luna, on the other hoof, speaks her mind. She does not hide behind facades or waste her time trying to appease ponies who would be better off with their teeth knocked down their gullets. Lady Luna knows what has to be done, and does it, and that—that is why Sunset likes her so much.

She knows this is why Lady Luna likes her in kind.

Lady Luna sleeps in one of the highest towers of the Canterlot palace; better to raise her moon from when she wakes at the end of the day, and better to see the stars before she delves into ponies' dreams for the night. Sunset's chambers are situated just below hers—best to stay close to her Lady, should she require anything as she rises.

They walk together through the gold-accented halls of the daytime palace, quiet, simply enjoying each other's presence. It is only when they reach the one part of the palace that is still colored with Lady Luna's accents, shrouded in darkness even as her sister's sun burns above them, that her Lady speaks.

"It has almost been a decade since you first arrived in this palace, did you know?" Lady Luna says.

Sunset blinks, stopping in her tracks. "Is it nearly my anniversary?" she asks, eyes narrowing as she tries to count the moons in her head. "I never thought time on the surface would pass me by so fast. I…"

She laughs softly to herself. "You know, I feel like I've been serving you for forever. I know I spent longer down there than I have up here, but it's like I have more of a life up here. Something actually worth remembering."

She turns a smug smile onto Lady Luna. "I guess breaking out did get me a better life, after all."

Lady Luna laughs in kind, spreading a wing to draw her closer. Her Lady's coat is as cold as her moon, but Sunset doesn't mind; she's never minded. A little chill has always been worth the friendship of the mare she serves.

"Imagine, the mare I knew in those dungeons seeing you now," her Lady says. "How often do you think of your past, I wonder?"

"Sometimes," Sunset admits with a shrug of her shoulders. With the chill of Lady Luna's aura wrapped around her, the part of her that lingers darkly deep inside remembers…

A little more than a thousand years ago…

…remembers the brimstone heat of Tartarus, and the smell of sulfur rushing down her throat with every breath.

Tartarus was never a civilized place, but before the sisters' interference, there was nothing there but lava and hellfire. Lava and hellfire and the demons, of course. They were there before the alicorns even stepped hoof on the planet's soil, before they lashed their magic to the sun and moon to move it as they willed, and they would be there after.

How many ways could a creature die? Blade and fang and fire; things that destroyed the outside, things that killed from the inside. One of these far too common fates was a magical accident—a scholar having their own project backfire upon them, a hapless witness who got in too deep.

Such accidents, with enough power behind them, could sunder the soul in such a way that it did not pass on properly; those shards, charged with raw energy, descended through the world until they reached the hellfire burning below it, and it was this terrible unchained power that made Tartarus burn.

Sunset Shimmer was not her name at the time. She had no name—she needed none. She was a hellfire representation of the raw violence of Tartarus, bound into two-legged shape; two legs, and two hands, torn-up leathery wings, fangs and hunger for flesh.

But while the rest of her kind looked down towards the flames, fighting among each other and searching for the remnants of souls that had not yet burned up in the lava, she looked up, towards the surface, towards the place where the souls came from.

The rest of her kind burned with fury, but she burned with ambition, and that was what led her to be one of the demons who witnessed the Diarchs' descent into Tartarus.

The Diarchs, you see, tended to frown on murder. Even Princess Luna, who in those days got her hooves far dirtier than most, would hesitate at the ending of a life. It was a taboo both of them tried never to cross; and then there was the fact that some of their enemies were simply too dangerous, too powerful to be able to kill. Twice-damned creatures of darkness who could only be killed under a certain alignment of stars, or with a certain magical item, or at the fulfillment of a certain prophecy; those creatures were easier to banish somewhere dark and terrible than to end their lives. Thus, Tartarus.

It was an event indeed when the Diarchs sought to march down to those pits of hell. Princess Celestia shone with a light that had never been seen beneath the rock; holy sunlight that protected rather than destroyed, that nurtured and grew rather than burned to ashes. Demons flinched away at its very touch, the lighting of her horn enough to blind—and for those demons that sought a way to slip past, or were powerful and rage-filled enough to withstand the pain that the solar princess' magic brought upon them, Princess Luna was there, using her dark magic to extinguish the power of demons that got too close, like candles in a windstorm.

She was smart enough to keep her distance. It was evident immediately that the Princess' power was too much for the demons to touch, and they had to have come here for a reason. Were they there to burn out Tartarus entirely, to conquer it for their own?

No. As Princess Celestia took guard, she watched as Princess Luna directed her own magic not outwards but downwards, towards the great, endless pool of magma itself. It bubbled and boiled but as her ice-cold magic touched it, it began to settle into a standstill. Its vicious glow dimmed as it was overwhelmed by Luna's night; steam rolled off of it in great, billowing clouds, and when the princess was done the magma had become great sheets of thick rock, strong enough that even a demon's claws would struggle to rent it.

The princesses focused their magic further. Those great sheets of rock that Princess Luna had frozen into shape was caught by both their brilliant gold and sapphire auras, and then it began to rise. From the once endless plains of hellfire, the stone rose into huge pillars; sole islands in the magmatic fury that surrounded the two Princesses. Even the demons that had been attacking them receded in awe. From below they seemed like monoliths to the demon who had been watching; their great shadows fell upon her, and for the first time in her long, unnamable existence she knew what darkness was.

The Princesses would build their great prison upon that stone, using their magic to further refine what had been built and bringing down cages of cold iron from the surface, cages that burned a demon at the very touch.

It was then that she, the demon that had watched all of this without acting, just lurking and thinking, wondered what else was on that surface the Princesses had come from. There was a great light, more brilliant than even hellfire; there was a great darkness, enough to pierce deep into burning magma and extinguish it entirely. There was metal of cold fire that could repel a demon just by its mere existence—and above all, there was power. For all her kind's arrogance, it was clear that the surface world held more power than anything one demon could muster.

It was then that the demon without a name made a choice: she would figure out a way to the surface. She would be the one who rose; she would claw her way to that world the sisters came from and become more powerful than any of her kind could ever know.

Pride Goeth Before Destruction

It was Cerberus who was the key to it all, in the end.

Of course, a terrible prison built to hold Equestria's worst enemies would need an equally terrible and vicious guard. She never learned where, exactly, the Princesses found the beast, nor how they managed to tame it, but in the end she saw firsthand its raw might when the Princesses returned to Tartarus once more to lead it down below.

They had made a bridge this time, a gate connecting Tartarus and the surface she yearned for. It was a rickety-seeming thing, a thin piece of stone barely held together by crumbling pillars, but it hadn't collapsed into the lava yet, and none of her kind's efforts had been able to make it crumble entirely. Perhaps it was more solid than it looked.

Either way, the Princesses rarely used it, favoring their wings; it seemed to be symbolic, perhaps an anchor for the magic that was keeping the entrance between Tartarus and the rest of the world open.

She lurked in her favorite place in the deep magma and watched the Princesses' descent. This time they carried something else between their shared magic—a huge creature built like a hellhound, covered in short brown fur and spouting three heads, each bearing fangs sharp and long enough to pierce through her like a falling stalactite.

When the Princesses settled it down and let go of their magic, the beast seemed disoriented for a moment, getting used to its new surroundings; tilting its heads this way and that, uneasy on its paws. The solar princess actually reached out and patted it with her hoof, of all things!

Then the princesses retreated, leaving with none of the fanfare they usually did, just soaring away until they were but pinpricks against the red cave roof of Tartarus.

The demon settled in to watch.

For a while, there was nothing, as her kind had finally learned that whatever came with the Princesses was more often than not going to throw them back across Tartarus or else cause immeasurable pain to their very being. But eventually a larger demon in bat shape with far too much courage got too close, perhaps eying up the Cerberus as a valuable meal, and—snap!

The beast moved too fast for her to even see. At first it looked like just a particularly stupid hellhound, pacing and panting and eying the spot where the sisters had disappeared. The bat-demon hovered a little behind one of its heads, looking for a weak spot to strike at much as she had done with opponents before. Its wings buzzed behind it and it darted this way and that, searching, repositioning, and with just a tiny readjustment it got too close for the beast's liking.

If nothing else, it was quite funny to see the dog shake the demon in its jaws around like a chew toy before spitting it out, sending the demon flying into the lava once more.

But she knew now: the dog was a guard. A viciously efficient one at that, if it was the only guard the Princesses had brought down to Tartarus. Six pairs of eyes meant there was no way she would be able to sneak past it and up to the surface.

Unless…?

She learned that Cerberus was a sacred figure to the diamond dogs. The biggest, most powerful dog in the pack, ruling over Tartarus all by himself? Of course the dogs would flock to appease a figure like that, bringing offerings in the hope that the beast would grant them some kind of favor.

She learned that every year, like clockwork, the Day Guard would escort a select delegation of diamond dogs down into Tartarus so that they could make their offerings.

This year, she decided, would be the year she made her move.

She wouldn't say that it was easy, but she wouldn't say that it was hard. It was certainly a challenge to sneak onto the bridge without being seen. There were far more ponies in Tartarus than there would be any other time of year, and the diamond dogs weren't dim, either. They had sharp eyes and sharper noses; they would certainly detect her if she flew too close.

But Tartarus' native smell of brimstone was one thing, and the incense they brought along on their pilgrimage was another, and they did a handy job of distracting her biggest worry, Cerberus. A demon would have no hope of sneaking past him; he was the perfect guard dog. Sneaking past a group of diamond dogs and the guards assigned to escort them, when the two groups were paying more attention to each other than her, however…

A thrill shot through her the first time her talons touched the stone leading to the surface. She couldn't look back; any hesitation could cost her. Just one glance over one of their shoulders…

But with that thrill came focus—the sharp knowledge that this was it, her only chance. If she was caught this time, next time it would be far harder to do this again. The Princesses would take precautions, perhaps even deciding to stand guard over the delegation themselves.

So she was quiet, but she was also fast, moving as quickly as she could, taking care to not let her talons click on the stone too much. She was quiet, and she was quick, and then she was out.

The surface air felt so much cooler compared to the brimstone heat of Tartarus. There was green, green grass, and green trees, and green plants, and a trail made out of soft dirt instead of the harsh stone or harsher magma she was accustomed to. When she craned her head up, the sky was blue—she could hear something chirping gently behind her, and when she snapped her head to look it was no monster bearing down on her but instead a little bird, feathered in yellow.

So this was the surface.

She didn't come here for its beauty, but she had to admit… it was beautiful.

Of course, that all came crashing down in the end.

Demons are not kind by nature. She never was, not even under Princess Luna's wing. She did not come to the surface for beauty, or for freedom. She came here for a better life, yes, but that better life was not going to be spent hiding herself away in some distant corner of Equestria.

No: she came here for power. She came here to rule. She would be the queen of her own domain, and her domain, she decided, would start with a rural, out-of-the-way town located in the desert.

Right on the edge of the Badlands, just far enough away to be considered a frontier but not so far out to be considered uninhabitable, was a little village with just as much of a name as the demon herself. It had to have only a few hundred ponies, maximum, and it was there that she touched down after flying all through the night, using the shadows of the clouds to conceal her distinctly winged form.

The night sky was stunning. Perhaps even more stunning than the pure blue of the day. She had her eyes up for a moment, and then she brought them back down; back down to the little village she lingered at the edges of, containing sleeping villagers ignorant to her lurking presence.

The little houses had thin, flimsy little wooden walls. She didn't even need to breathe fire to get into them; a swipe or two of her claws and the walls gave before her, opening up to reveal the tiny little ponies nestled within.

A flare of her magic, and their souls were bound easily enough. Their eyes filmed over to her cyan aura, and then their minds were hers, too.

She took over the village, and then she sent them marching to the next, laughing all the while. How easy it was for a demon like her to prey on Equestria! These little ponies were weak, soft; no wonder they needed two alicorns to protect them! All these years she'd spent sharpening her claws and cunning on other demons who sought to take her down, sought to prove they were better than her. Now she was free, and now she was the best.

Who knew that the Princesses would investigate the missing townfolk of those little villages? Who knew they would care about a part of their domain that was little more than sand and rock?

Her army swelled around her, a phalanx of little ponies who marched at her command, did her will, did not complain or try to fight back or even think of deserting. She was above them all, stretched across three of their backs, being carried in a living throne across the desert as she searched for the next village to take apart one by one.

Princess Celestia appeared in a flash of flaming magic, brilliant as her dawn. The demon’s wings flared in shock—and then her teeth bared in a snarl, as she remembered that same dawn light burning at the other demons who dared to approach too close.

"Celestia," she growled, rising from her makeshift throne. "How nice of you to visit. Where's your sister? Is she sleeping in?"

Ice washed over her as another alicorn's magic flared behind her. She turned, but it was too late—chains as dark as night had already snapped into place around her forearms, forcing her to the ground.

"Behind you," Princess Luna replied. She stiffened, a brief moment spent thinking of her next move.

"Defend me, you idiots!" she cried out at the ponies surrounding her.

Like little ponies were going to stop a princess. Her army surged around her, splitting into two groups to do as she commanded; but Luna was gone in a whisper of shadow before her ponies could even get their hooves on her, and from Celestia's horn poured a shield that glowed with raw power as the ponies attempted to attack her, keeping them at bay.

But the Princesses wouldn't dare to actually hurt their little ponies, would they? And more to the point, it gave her the chance to distract them—

—for just enough time to break Luna's chains, fire surging around her forearms as she called on her own magic to burn the princess' darkness away.

Fools. The point of her army wasn't to have warriors; the point of her army was to bind the power of their souls to her, to increase her own abilities. Demons are nearly soulless creatures, and they have always felt that deep hunger within them; she just knew it would be more convenient to leave the bodies around the souls alive, and look how it paid off.

"You will not defeat me!" she shrieked, rising into the air with two great flaps of her wings. Her claws glinted sharply in Celestia's burning light as she raised her hand, calling fire through the earth to answer her call. Cyan flames surged all around her, rising to obscure her form. "I have more power than you will ever know! I am ascendant!"

And she was going to get out of here. No demon could take on one of the sisters on their own, let alone two of them. She would have to re-evaluate her plan—this would be a setback, but not a loss, as long as she could escape.

She poured just a little more power into her fire, willing the circle of flames higher, higher; her army remained clustered around Celestia's shield, immune to her own fire, and meanwhile, she bolted.

In hindsight, this was a mistake.

She never knew just how fast the Princesses could fly.

Certainly, she'd thought—certainly, the heat of her fire beneath her wings would be enough of an updraft to give her a boost, and then from there she'd point herself downwards and dive to get enough speed, relying both on innate magic and the raw power of her leathery wings cutting through the air to get free—by the time the Princesses managed to extricate themselves from her makeshift army, she'd be several dozen souls down, but out of their sight.

Instead, what happened went something like this:

She bolted out of her makeshift ring of fire, and then felt the magic twist—the few wisps of cyan flame still coming off of her arms turned golden, and a sharp gust of heated air threw her off course, turbulence sending her into a tailspin.

Princess Celestia was on her before she could even blink; she'd begun to turn to defend herself and then she was on the ground, hooves still warm with the radiance of the sun pinning her without warning.

Princess Luna was there almost as fast, her dark wings strangely silent in the air—like an owl—and as she settled down she saw her horn light sapphire.

The lunar princess' magic arced to her, and she felt something in her form collapse in on itself. The magic which had just been running wild in her system, fueled by the souls bound to her, sparked and burnt out—the demon cried out, kicking against the ground, grasping at a hoof that would not let her free.

Luna's magic swirled, coalesced. Her magic was not creating chains; her magic was worse than chains. Her magic was in her skin—under it—changing it, shoving her true nature down under the depths of something dark. Her magic was twisting her into something new, something more like them; lesser than them, of course.

More like the ponies that just a few minutes ago she was enslaving without a second thought. Two arms and two legs became four legs, tipped with sharp hooves—her face shifted forwards, out—her ears pinned back in a way they shouldn't and her wings changed too, became smaller but also more dextrous, built for practical use, a form meant to hang from caves and ceilings in the darkness. The form of Luna's favored, the spell meant as a gift twisted to be used as a prison.

Of course, she didn't know any of that at the time. All she knew was the sensation of her magic slipping cruelly away from her, the enchantment on the ponies' souls lifting as her whole form could no longer make use of the power that came from them. All she knew was the feeling of once having been in power, feeling on top of the world, feeling superior; and all that slipping away as she was reminded that she was not superior. She was not the best, not even close. The Princesses were gods of their realm, and she was a fool to draw their ire.

She knew warmth slipping away, replaced by the cold of a short-furred body with too little inner fire. She knew pain, anguished cries as she registered everything that had happened to her.

She knew the magic of the spell overwhelming her, such a drastic change too intense to leave her conscious through it.

She knew darkness.

For a while, she languished. Not in the hellish brimstone of Tartarus, where she expected she'd be banished back to after the Princesses were done with her; apparently, they were worried about things like her safety back in the depths, now that her powers were sealed. How ironic.

And even with sealed powers, it seemed they worried that if she was capable of escaping from Tartarus once, she could do it again. That did bring her some amusement; the idea that the Princesses thought her so cunning that even in the lowly shape of a batpony she could find some way to slip past Cerberus again was flattering.

Of course, if they truly respected her, they wouldn't have sealed her in pony form in the first place. Ugh.

So there she was, trapped behind iron bars. Iron bars that she would have easily seared away in demon form, reduced to molten metal, were it not for the terrible fact of her form—and the equally terrible fact that even in batpony form, cold iron still burned. Not as much as it would have in her true form, she was pleased to note, but it still did nothing to change the fact that she was trapped below the Canterlot palace in a pathetic mortal prison.

The Princesses visited her regularly, of course. To ward off anything she might have attempted with the member of the Night Guard posted to watch her; though she wouldn't have gotten far with them if she tried. She did not quite look like a natural batpony, it turned out, what with the carmine coat and all, and something about her naturally unsettled the other batponies. Also, she suspected they were under orders to not make conversation with her; who knew what a demon's tongue could accomplish?

About as much as the rest of her while in that prison. It grated at her. Even in Tartarus she was not helpless; she could wait, she could watch, she could plan, she could fight other demons for their power and steal it for her own. Here, trapped in a mortal shell, she was just a pawn of the same things every mortal pony would. She even had to eat instead of sustaining herself on the energy of the souls chained to her. How dare. This was no fate for a demon like her.

But there seemed to be nothing she could do. All she could do was languish in that cell, count her hoofsteps as she paced between sparse amenities, adjust to her cursed new form, and talk with the princesses.

It was Celestia who visited her first. At first, the princess sat outside her cell, gazing in, wearing an expression of warm patience that she doubted was real. That's all she would do: day after day, relieving the guard with a gentle wave of her wing, sitting there, existing. It was so regular that she began to mark the passage of time with Celestia's appearance.

Eventually, she finally broke.

"What do you think you're doing, sitting outside my cell every day? This is worthless. If you want to taunt me, get on with it. Otherwise, leave."

She was in no space to make those kinds of demands, and she was sure they both knew it. But instead of rising to those angry words in any way, Celestia just tilted her head and looked at her, her eyes going soft with… concern?

"You must be terribly uncomfortable in that sparse cell. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

She stared.

Celestia looked back, expression still as warm as ever.

She stared some more.

Then she began to laugh; a cackling, rough sound that almost brought her to her knees, trying to process the sheer incredulousness of the princess of the sun—the princess whose ponies she'd enslaved, the princess whose ponies she'd forced to attack her—asking her, the demon forced into mortal shape, if she was comfortable.

It sounded like a joke. It should have been a joke. She was willing to give the idea that Princess Celestia had a great sense of humor—a twisted sense of humor, but hey, was the demon supposed to judge?

But when she looked back into Celestia's eyes, all she saw was raw, shining earnesty.

"As if I'd let you anywhere near me again," she spat, sitting back on her haunches. Demons didn't need comfort, anyway. Demons were used to endless fire and brimstone, searing heat, and just being outside of that space was a damned luxury. "Go away."

"As you wish," Celestia said with a gentle incline of her head, earning a confused blink on her part. But when she craned her neck to try and see if she could spot any sign of a crack in what should be a facade, the princess was already on her hooves and halfway down the hall.

Celestia was back the next day, of course. She had no idea what the princess wanted to accomplish with this whole 'playing nice' approach, but, hey, if she wanted to waste her time, that was her problem. She was more than happy to stare blankly at her in response to her questions about her comfort and if there was anything she wanted; or else tell her to piss off and be surprised every time when the princess actually complied. The idea that one of the Diarchs of Equestria would listen to her about anything, even if it was just part of the nice pony act, still gave her whiplash.

It wasn't that the cell was particularly uncomfortable. Far from it. It wasn't luxurious, of course, but she didn't particularly have an idea of luxury, anyway, her only experience with the pony world besides being locked up beneath Canterlot being a couple shabby hick towns out in the desert. But it wasn't raw stone and cold iron chains; the bed was soft, there was actually a carpet on the floor, and the water from the sink ran clear. The air was fresh and clean and did not smell of mildew; the walls were in pristine condition and had no moss or mold to speak of growing on them.

It wasn't like she was used to mortal amenities, anyway. She could have slept on a raw bedframe and been fine with it as long as it wasn't cold iron. She didn't need these things. The only reason she had them was because of that damn cursed form.

The one problem with it, really—and it was stupid to even think of it as a problem, really, damn Celestia for bringing the question up in the first place—was that it was cold down there.

It's simply—as a demon, she's certain she could deal with any temperature. Her body burned from the inside, magma-hot. Temperature was a mortal need like many others, and she had been exempt from that.

But as a batpony—as a batpony, her inner fire was still there. She could feel it burning against her heart, deep, deep inside her mortal prison. But it was weak, muted. With the short-cropped coat and a body that she was unfamiliar with, hadn't been living with all her life, had it forced upon her without warning; the cold was a terrible thing.

It wasn't enough to force her to shiver—thankfully, Tartarus forbid she show any sign of weakness in front of the princess—but it was a constant presence in the back of her mind, irritating as a fly, making itself aware in the moments where she wasn’t distracted by anything else. Which was often, because it wasn't like there was much to do down there in her little cell, was there?

Another thing that would be nice; another thing she refused to bring herself low enough to ask for. She did not trust Celestia to come through on her promises, anyhow. Or if she did, it would be held over her head—a debt to be repaid.

This must have been Celestia's plan. To play nice, to trick her into asking for something, only to use that as leverage for later. A demon like her, a demon with her cunning, must be useful for many things, even trapped in batpony form.

Of course. Why else would anypony show a demon kindness?

Not to forget about Princess Luna. While Celestia was a constant irritation in her life, only useful in reminding her of the passage of time, when Luna showed up, she got right to the point.

"Demon," Luna called, and said demon glanced up to find her sitting right in front of the bars to her cell. Unlike Celestia, she did not dismiss the batpony standing guard; unlike Celestia, she dared to call her first. "Have you a name?"

"No," she replied, in a why-would-you-think-I-have-one tone of voice. How little did the princess know about demons? Surely they would know better than to think a demon would have a name—demons didn't need one. They weren't going to address each other. At least not for long enough to need a name; truces ended in backstabbing more often than they didn't.

"Hm," Luna said, and the demon dared to circle closer to the bars; not within reach, because those things burned like ice and she had no need to earn a bar-shaped brand upon her coat, but closer.

"Why are you here? I thought Celestia had irritating me covered."

"Celestia thinks she can redeem you," Luna answered, earning a moment of stunned silence out of her. Both for the fact that Luna admitted that so readily, and for the fact that Celestia apparently thought that she could…?

What? Turn her good? Civilize her, so that she could walk among the populace like any other pony?

Forget it. Walking among the mortals in the same cursed shape as them sounded worse than going back to Tartarus. At least there the hellfire might have the courtesy of unbinding her.

She snorted. "I hadn't been aware your sister was that hopelessly naive."

"Not naive," Luna said, steel in her voice. "She has turned worse than you to our side in the past."

"Does she think she can trust me?" She laughed. "Does she think she'll ever be able to trust me? She's being ridiculous. Throw me back to Tartarus already."

"No," Luna said, as expected. Worth a shot. "Even if your form was fit for those depths, We prefer keeping you down here. You could be useful to Us."

Now that—that grabbed her attention. A princess seeking to redeem her out of the kindness of her heart? She supposed she could believe it when coming from the other sister's mouth. Princess Luna seemed the colder of the two; harsher, but more honest. Princess Celestia had been dancing around the topic, trying to butter her up with requests such as comfort. Princess Luna, on the other hoof, came right out and said what she suspected all along.

She liked that. That meant Princess Luna was less likely to play mind games with her. She could manipulate and dance circles around others as good as any demon could, of course, but the fact that Luna simply cut to the chase meant that at worst, she would at least waste less of her time.

Not that she didn't have plenty of it down here in these blasted depths, but it was the principle of the matter.

"You say I can be useful to you. How?" she asked, wondering if she would get a proper answer this time, too.

"You are clearly gifted in the arts of demonic magic," Luna said. Her gaze felt like it pierced straight through her, into her soul. She held eye contact regardless. She would not show weakness. "Who else under Our command could enslave dozens of ponies as easily as breathing? Who else under Our command could break Our chains, even if for a few moments?"

The demon paused, mulling over her words. To reveal this information could be dangerous—then again, she was already trapped in a weakened form. What else did she have to lose? "You know that was because I had so many souls under my command, right? I could never have overwhelmed your magic normally."

"You hardly had those souls beneath your command when you escaped from Tartarus," Luna said. "Which neither We nor Our sister have learned how you did, by the by. And when you escaped, you did not immediately charge to the center of Our power—as most might have—but instead chose to attack the lesser-known reaches of Our realm, giving you much time to amass the power you did. Even with your powers sealed in this form, you display a level of cunning that I value in my servants. You would be a worthy ally indeed should you choose to join Our side."

Well, call her flattered. She listened to this with sharply narrowed eyes, wings shifting automatically at her side as she processed everything that Luna brought up. All of these things were true, and a Tartarus of a compliment at that. It wasn't quite an offer, but it was a whisper of one; an acknowledgement that she would be useful, that she could be wanted at the sisters' sides.

Her first thought, of course, was What's in it for me? There had to be something. The Princesses could hardly expect her to work for them out of the goodness of her own heart. But to actually ask that would be tantamount to admitting interest in this deal—something she hardly wanted to admit just yet.

She needed to play this slow and steady, figure out what little leverage she had in this mess. It wasn't that she was totally repulsed by the offer, despite everything. This could be her only chance to go out and do something in the world without earning the sisters' ire once more. They'd foiled her once, and she would be a fool to think that they couldn't do it again.

But part of her still balked at the thought of working with the ponies who trapped her like this. This accursed form that she still hadn't gotten used to—too cold, and too finicky, and too mortal. Damn them.

She needed more information. "What makes you think you can trust me?"

Luna laughed, then, a cold and low thing that sent a shiver down her spine. "That is the crux of the matter, is it not? To do Our bidding would put you in a lofty position indeed; endorsed by the very rulers of the realm. We both know you could use that against Us.

Still, We have faith you do not wish to be trapped in this prison for eternity. We will be back on the morrow to continue this discussion."

And just like that, Luna left, her starlight mane trailing behind her as she trotted back down the hall.

She sat there for a while, thinking about the offer Luna had all but left in her lap; thinking about Celestia's irritating tendency to wait outside her cell, putting kindness on offer the same way Luna had the idea of being something useful to them.

Tartarus, but she had really gotten herself in deep, hadn't she?

And worst of all: she was thinking about it. A life beneath the sisters' wing. Shouldn't that feel like the same kind of stifling thing that had driven her to escape that pit of hell in the first place? She would be under someone else's command; like Cerberus, a lapdog to be used.

But what other choices did she have?

Luna's visit also brought something else to her mind, though it took a good while to dig its way to the forefront.

Luna was back as previously promised, but the two of them hardly got anywhere with their conversation. She was not yet willing to budge on her opinions towards the princesses, and then there was the matter that even if she was eager to work beneath the princesses' command as Luna suggested, it wasn't like they could trust her. It would be an easy ploy to talk her way out of the cell and then bolt at the first sign of freedom. Equestria was a large realm, and then there were the places beyond Equestria—places that even the princesses did not rule. Perhaps they could track her down even then—they certainly had the wings to do it—but would it be worth it? Some demon causing trouble in a backwater country would hardly be their concern.

Except, she could easily see it becoming their concern. With enough souls, she could easily pose a threat to even a duo of alicorns. Perhaps they could see her becoming obsessed with revenge, sending an army to knock down the doors of the Canterlot palace. It wasn't completely out of the question. She could see herself trying to take her pound of flesh from the ponies who locked her in this abhorrent mortal form in the first place.

…but, not as much as she could before. They weren't the worst jailers, she supposed. And a direct attack on the princesses would, of course, be monumentally stupid—Equestria hadn't lasted this long as a nation for nothing.

And then there was the thought that perhaps the princesses would track her down out of the genuine want to save the pour little souls that she'd inevitably put under her control if she escaped. Certainly they seemed to care about the ponies underneath their rule; something that felt so very foreign to her compared to the harsh landscapes of Tartarus. Not like there was anything much to rule in Tartarus other than lava and the sisters' prison (and they all knew that was under Cerberus' rule), but demons loved to subjugate, even—especially—lesser demons. The one with the most power ruled because they enjoyed watching others serve them, and because they enjoyed the power that brought to them in kind.

Why did the princesses rule? It was a question she never sought to ask herself in the past, but now…

Now, the princesses capturing her and then daring to interact with her after the fact instead of consigning her to this dark hole to rot—well, it stoked her curiosity. She had questions, whether she wanted to or not. Somehow, the princesses had wormed themselves into the back of her mind. She supposed it was only inevitable. What else was she supposed to think about, the constant rotation of batpony guards outside the cold iron bars of her cell when the princesses weren't around? The stone surrounding her on all sides? The bed she slept on?

Hmph.

There was one thought in particular that followed her from Luna's visit; a thought she finally posed one day (at least, she assumed it was day) as Celestia sat outside her cell.

"How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Mm?" Celestia asked, turning to face her.

"How in Tartarus am I supposed to trust you?" she repeated. "You've been acting all nice to me, keeping me company outside my cell and asking if there's anything I want, but how do I know you'll follow through? How do I know you're not doing this just because you want something to hold over my head? You're one of the reasons why I'm in this damn form to begin with."

She hadn't meant to let her anger seep into that last sentence, but she was right. She was right to be angry, when the princesses stripped all her fiery brilliance away from her and left her in this. It's not like they could do anything else—it would be stupid to leave her in her true form, when it granted her so much power—but she still seethed at it every time she flared her wings and felt them fold open far differently than they should. They've got fingers now, and she can grab things with them, theoretically even hang from the ceiling with their talons, and while that's a marked improvement from the way her wings were in her true form it doesn't mean she has to like it.

"An excellent question," Celestia replied, "And one I unfortunately have no answer for. You think you cannot trust me; well, how could you trust any of the answers I were to give you? I could tell you the things my sister told you—that you could help us, and that I want you alive and comfortable for that reason. I could tell you it would be to show you that you do not have to hold us as your enemy. I certainly do not see you as an enemy myself."

"It could even be—" she continued, and was that a twinkle in her eye? "—out of the goodness of my heart. A demon's life cannot be easy. What luxury could there be for you to find down in Tartarus? You seem different from the rest of your kind. Perhaps I simply think that I could convince you to do better than this. Instead of consigning yourself to the edges of society, preying upon the weak, you could live a life where you no longer have to see the whole world as your enemy. You do not have to fight. You do not have to see an enemy around every corner. You could be better than this, and the world would reward you in kind."

"You are naive," the demon replied. She hadn't meant to phrase it quite that way—hadn't meant to insult the princess to her face—but what else could she say? What else could she say to a speech like that, so full of idealism and righteousness? The idea that she could be redeemed is—it was rubbish. Yes, she could do good for the sisters. She could help them, and she supposed that would put her on the side of good.

But this idea that she would ever be accepted among others, that the ponies the princesses ruled would ever stop seeing her as a threat? Hah. "There is nothing like that out there for me. The only good I can have in my life is whatever I can take for myself. You can say a few pretty words about doing good, doing better, but all I'm hearing is empty air."

Celestia didn't seem insulted by her tirade, at least, which was nice. The last thing she wanted was to offend the solar princess and be reduced to ashes. It was a miracle the sisters decided to capture her alive in the first place, now that she thought about it. It's a good thing she apparently seemed so useful to them.

"You say the only good you can have in your life is whatever you can fight for," Celestia said. "What if I told you there wasn't—that you could have that which makes you happy without having to earn it?"

"...I'd say that sounds like a load of bullshit," she said, hesitantly. That tone of voice that Celestia was using suggested that she was about to sucker her into some moral trap.

"Then I shall prove otherwise to you. Tell me—is there anything you want in your cell that could make you more comfortable?"

Ah. This again. This again. She could see now; by Celestia proving that she could be trusted to provide nice things to her, she would be forced to concede at least part of her moral argument.

"Yeah, okay," she said. "What's the catch."

"None. You have my word that you will not owe me anything for this," Celestia said. "I only wish to make the creatures under my care content."

That was an odd way to word it. It sounded like Celestia was including her in that.

Fancy words. They meant nothing to her. Celestia's word meant nothing to her. She could keep her promises to the commonfolk all she wanted, she could believe that, but nopony would know if Celestia broke those promises to a poor little demon locked up in the depths of the palace.

Still… she supposed refusing this request would be akin to backing out of the argument entirely. Celestia was trying to make a point here by making this offer. If she told her to piss off, well, that would break down her argument, too. It wouldn't be that she couldn't have anything good in her life without fighting it; it would be that she would be actively pushing away the good in her life, rejecting an offer dangling beneath her nose because she didn't like the pony offering it very much.

She wondered if that was what Celestia was going for all along.

"If I finally answer your question, will you leave me alone?" she asked.

"Yes, for today," Celestia said, and she supposed that was the best she would be able to get about this annoying princess of the sun who wouldn't take the hint and leave her alone.

"Fine," she said. A huff. "I guess… I guess I'm uncomfortable because it's fucking cold down here," she said, shifting one leg a little as if to cross her arms before remembering herself. Unfortunately, it would probably be too much to ask for Celestia to unbind her already.

"As you wish," Celestia said, with such joy in her voice that she almost wanted to rescind the entire thing altogether. Of course it'd make the batty old mare so damn happy for her to answer the question she'd been asking her this entire time. Just getting the sentence out made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. Not like she wasn't vulnerable around the princesses the entire time in the first place, but…

Celestia's horn lit up, and her thoughts trailed off in favor of watching her magic warily. A warm wisp of golden light trailed off of Celestia's horn and through the bars—she felt a hint of envy, seeing her magic float through so easily—and just behind her. As she turned her head to watch, it coalesced in the middle of the room; lighting up like a miniature sun, bathing the cell in radiance.

The heat coming off the wisp was hardly enough to burn, nowhere near the searing heat of Tartarus, but it chased the cold away immediately, filling the room with a radiant warmth that made her breathe a sigh of relief without realizing. Finally, there was heat in her bones; finally, she didn't feel like she had to pull her wings tight against her body to preserve any scrap of warmth; finally, she didn't feel close to shivering.

Celestia was still sitting there beyond the bars, of course, looking at her expectantly.

"What?" she said, sitting down near the firelight with a huff. "You said you would leave after I answered your question."

"That I did," she said, standing and stretching her wings with a flutter. "I will be back tomorrow, of course, to see how you are doing."

"Of course," she huffed. "Can't go a day without you."

She waited until Celestia was out of sight before curling closer to the firelight, ending up laid underneath it with her back legs tucked up behind her in an arrangement that she thought made sense for her body. It was hard to tell, working with four legs instead of two.

It wasn't that she was enjoying this, of course. She was just taking every bit of enjoyment she could from this miserable life before it was inevitably snatched away again. After all; how could the sisters be kind to her for any length of time? How could this last?

"I see you and Our sister are getting along," were Luna's first words as she trotted up to the cell in the evening.

The demon watched her with wary eyes as she approached, not bothering to get up from underneath the firelight wisp still floating in the center of her cell. She hoped Luna couldn't tell that she'd been napping.

"She said she'd fuck off if I finally answered her question," she replied, searching Luna's expression for any hint of teasing or mirth. But there was none; the only expression she could find on Luna's face was curiosity.

"And what question would that be?" Luna asked.

"She asked if there was anything she could do to make me comfortable."

"Ah," Luna said. "And you took her up on this?"

"Again," she said. "Told me she'd leave me alone if I finally did it."

"For how long?"

A sigh. "Just until tomorrow. Is she always this persistent with you?"

It was meant as an offhand remark, but it surprised her to see actual amusement on Luna's face at the words.

"My sister is a patient mare. As the sun shall rise each day, so she knows that she shall always have tomorrow to enact her goals. Even if those goals are, say, pushing me to finally interact with the few petitioners that truly require my time," Luna said.

"And you?" she asked, curious.

If anything, Luna seemed only more amused at her prying. "I prefer to strike when the proper moment is near. The night is fleeting; darkness only serves its purpose as long as the one wielding it is still hidden. A proper ambush is swift as well as silent."

Having planned and executed several ambushes on rival demons in the past, she could see the appeal. Maybe her and Luna were more similar than she thought.

…ugh, she really just thought that. All this proximity to the princesses was going to make her soft.

"Have you been mulling over our offer?" Luna said. She lifted her head a little.

"It's hardly an offer," she said. "As I see it, neither of you can trust me enough to let me out of this cell in the first place."

"I believe we are getting there," Luna said.

She barked out a laugh. "Really? I'm flattered."

"My question still stands."

"Sure, whatever. I guess I could see myself serving under you. It isn't like I have a choice. It's either stay locked up here or go back to Tartarus."

Luna frowned. "You truly think yourself so trapped?"

"You two will just hunt me down again if I leave. Either you get so fed up with always watching over me that you unbind me and lock me back in Tartarus, or you find some way to prevent me from sabotaging anything important and use me as your servant."

"I see."

She didn't see, actually, what Luna seemed so concerned about—which concerned her in turn. In her eyes, those were the only two options. What third option would Luna have in mind that would made her react like that? She would say the worst option would be to throw her back in Tartarus, (even locked in a batpony form, at least she would have some measure of freedom underneath the sisters' wings) but the strange expression on Luna's face made her fear for an even worse option. Perhaps they would figure out a way to use her as a servant and restrict her freedom at the same time. What horrible magics could they use upon her?

She watched Luna leave the cell with a building sense of disquiet and dread.

"Luna mentioned something interesting to me the other night," Celestia opened her conversation with, and oh, Tartarus, here they went again. The dread she'd managed to put in the back of her mind renewed itself in full force.

"Which was?" she asked, readjusting herself under the firelight, keeping her expression neutral. She would not show weakness.

"Do you truly think your only options in life are to serve in this palace or to go back to Tartarus?"

"If you have any other brilliant ideas, Princess," she said, already irritated by the constant discussion of a topic that should have been settled and closed yesterday— "I would love to hear them."

"Perhaps we cannot let you free for the moment," Celestia said. "But there are certainly ways to let you live a proper life. I do not mean to make you feel trapped."

Celestia paused for a moment to let the irony sink in. The demon herself would laugh if she simply wasn't waiting for the Princess to get on with it.

"Current circumstances aside," Celestia continued. "This imprisonment does not have to be for the rest of your life. That would be a terribly long time, as we both know. Perhaps you must stay here for now for the safety of my ponies, but that does not mean you have to be trapped down here forever. You are different from the rest of your kind, demon. I have faith you can prove yourself to be better than this."

And it was the strangest thing, listening to Celestia's little speech. All this fluffy goodness about how she could be different aside, there was something about the way the princess said the word 'demon' that struck her as odd. She did not spit it out as an insult, or say it with an undertone of terror under her breath as most creatures would. Celestia said it like a name. Like a matter of fact, something she was instead of some distant epithet, to set the monster apart from the pony.

She heard it, and she was struck almost with the urge to say that's not my name. But what was her name, then? She had no name. She was a demon—she had no name.

Why was that suddenly an issue for her, now? Truly she had been spending too much time around ponies. Truly, she had been spending too much time around precious alicorns who thought the magic of good and friendship was a real thing. Truly, she had been spending too much time around mares who believed she could be redeemed.

"Go on, then," she huffed. "What other life do you envision for me?"

"Perhaps after you prove yourself to be trustworthy, you could live in the palace as some other role," she said. "You would still require royal oversight, of course, but I do not wish to consign you to a servant's life where your only will would be ours. You would be a worthy guard, or—" She laughed slightly. "—if it strikes your fancy, a chef, or a painter, or an architect. The Crown requires the effort of many ponies to function as it does, and I am grateful for them all."

"Or perhaps," Celestia continued. "Perhaps with enough time, we could let you out of the palace altogether. It would take a little while, but for a creature like you, the time it would take to fully deem you as trustworthy would not be so long after all. We could send you out to one of our frontier towns; our first castle near the White Tail Woods has been gathering dust for quite some time, it's quite a lovely place. Or if you prefer deserts, there's plenty of space in the mesas for a new settlement to grow.

"The point of all this is that you have options. You do not have to rot away in this little cell, and you do not have to go back to Tartarus. You can live, demon. Far better than you could before all this."

To her surprise, the emotion that welled up inside her at listening to all of this was not anger at being pitied, nor disbelief. It was confusion. Confusion at the thought that Celestia simply had all these ideas up on offer in the first place. Confusion that Celestia would waste so much of her time sitting here day after day when her sister could do the duty of checking up on their prisoner just as well; or, better, to just leave her alone in the company of guards that would never do so much as glance at her.

Confusion that Celestia would treat a demon like somepony to be rehabilitated, not somepony to be destroyed.

Could this be a trick? Some way to maneuver her into a more vulnerable position? She thought of it for a moment, but quickly discarded the idea. If Celestia was going to trick her, she would have done it long ago. She would have done it with the firelight hovering in her cell; the warmth still radiating pleasantly through her bones.

She did her a favor. She did this to prove a point. She did this to prove the point that she could have nice things.

"...why?" she asked, and Celestia tilted her head in a question. "Why do all this? What's the damn point? You've wasted so much of your time sitting here outside of my cell, trying to get me to open up. Well, you've done it. I answered your question. I've listened to you ramble about 'goodness' or whatever. You should be done with me by now. You've proven whatever point you wanted to make. Go home."

"Why?" Celestia replied. "Why, I thought that should be obvious. I will admit to not knowing the first thing about a demon's life, but it seems to me that life in Tartarus must not be a particularly pleasant life at all, if you believe such things as 'good things can only come to me if I take them'. You hesitate so terribly at the thought of mere warmth, thinking of it some trick or deceit. I want to show you that there is a better way. That there can be more for you, if only you realize that life is not all destruction and brimstone.

"Perhaps if I ask a question to you in kind, it may help. Why, upon escaping Tartarus, was your first action to attack my ponies and enslave their souls?"

It was a miracle that Celestia managed to say that last sentence perfectly evenly; without any anger and resentment at all, despite the fact that she must have some. They were enemies. They had to be, because she attacked Celestia's subjects. They were hers, and she stole what was hers, and for any other demon that would be a crime worth hunting her down for the rest of their lives.

It was this thought that made her hesitate at answering the question. Even if she seemed perfectly even now, surely that was a facade? Answering the question seemed like a great way to stoke Celestia's anger further. Perhaps then she might give up on this foolish quest entirely; to leave her all alone in the depths of these dungeons, and to command her sister to do the same.

(Why was that a bad thing, now? She refused to answer the thought.)

But they were having a debate, and it would be a very poor debate indeed if she bowed out at the question now.

So she said, "Power. Why else? I take their souls, I gain the magic from them, I rule over everypony else. There was nothing down in Tartarus for me. Petty infighting with other demons and watching those idiots get flung back into the lava by your little guard dog would never have gotten me anywhere. Up here I could do anything. Up here I could carve out a niche for myself, and rule supreme."

"I see," Celestia said, with just the same evenness in her tone that made her think that something else was coming. "And why were you amassing that power? What would taking over a part of Equestria have gotten you?"

"Why was I collecting power? Are you serious? Where would I be without power? What would I do without the ability to blast apart anyone who gets in my way? If I just sat there and let other demons take it from me, I'd have been dead long before you two came down to Tartarus and made it your personal dungeon. I'm not an idiot."

"What would you have done with that power, then, when you had it? What would you have gotten from ruling over Equestria?"

"You're asking an awful lot of questions," she said.

Celestia just looked at her with that unending patience of hers in reply.

"Fine. I would have… used that as a jumping off point to take over more of Equestria, I guess. Or expand back out into the Badlands, depends on how much I thought you would have taken offense to me taking more ponies closer into the border. I never expected the two of you to care about those backwater towns, that's why I went out there. A few ponies go missing on the frontier, nopony's supposed to care. It takes too much effort to get out there. Not their problem. So…" She frowned in thought, the question sending the tactician's part of her brain into gear. "So I guess, I set up some kind of power base in the Badlands. Start snatching more ponies. Get more power. Push further in… I guess I would have pissed you two off eventually, I didn't plan for that. Hm."

Celestia had started to look bemused. It took her a moment or two to notice the change in expression on her face; she huffed, looking her in the eyes. "Was there a point to all this?"

"Say your goals were finally achieved. Say, somehow… you managed to defeat us. You would have taken over Equestria entirely, or at least part of it. What would you have done with your subjects? At the end of all your goals, what would you have done with that power?"

"Me? Defeat you?" She huffed. Celestia stayed silent again, and she rolled her eyes, continuing on with her answer. "Okay, I guess if I somehow managed to pull that off…"

She was quiet for a little, thinking. "Well, I'd have an empire in Equestria, wouldn't I? I guess I would have ended up a little like you. Ruling over my own nation of enslaved ponies, making them work to survive… using them as servants… living in luxury. Being free. Being powerful.

She frowned. "Of course, the remaining native Equestrians would have posed a threat. And Equestria's neighboring nations—I suppose I could have bought off the griffons and the diamond dogs with enough wealth. Maybe the dragons depending on their Fire Lord. But I would have had enemies, of course I would have. Not many ponies would be okay with my nation of slaves, and I doubt other nations would be, either. I would be fighting constantly, either to overthrow them or to be… overthrown in kind.

What were the odds that, eventually, even with the princesses out of the picture, somepony would manage to storm the gates of her great fiery palace and cast her down? It would be a constant life of planning, organizing, lying in wait to strike her enemies down before they got the chance to strike her down. She would always have to be on her guard.

Just like in Tartarus.

"What was the point of all this?" she bit out, but she already knew. Celestia wanted her to think through her goals, the things she had wanted to do—think them through to the very end and see what would come of them.

And she had. Before, this realization would not have disturbed her; before, she would have rationalized it away as being 'better than Tartarus'. And the idea of ruling over her own chunk of Equestria was better than Tartarus, at least; at least there she would have traded living in a pit of lava for living in a palace, having her servants attend to her every whim while she spent her time tearing down her enemies.

But Celestia has been going on and on about how she had options. How there was another way, even for a demon like her. She found that hard to believe. Take her offer of letting her move to the White Tail Woods, to whatever that settlement that was being built was. Who would want a demon in their settlement? Who would want a demon living among them, even in mortal shape? Even if she was in batpony form—well, even the other batponies steered away from a pony like her. It was clear that she was fundamentally wrong somehow; even suppressed as it was, her inner magic shone through.

She made it clear she had options. Did she? Was there a better life for her? Would there ever be a life free of strife for a pony like her?

"What do you think?" Celestia replied, and her gentle tone made her blood boil.

"Leave me alone. Let me—let me think about it," she spat out, and regretted the words immediately. Regretted giving Celestia a sign that she might actually be considering her ridiculous, grandiose ideas. Naive, naive, naive. Despite all her years and despite how much age the solar princess had on her, somehow, she believed in the stupid foalhood dreams a demon like her had never had.

"Of course. Take all the time you need," Celestia said, standing. For a ridiculous moment, she almost wanted to interrogate her further. But there was nothing to interrogate her for, and she feared that the larger part of her that just wanted the mare out of her sight would do something rash the longer she stayed, like scream at her, or break down completely.

Damn the princess. Damn her to Tartarus.

In the quiet between Celestia's visit and Luna's, she thought.

It wasn't like she had much better to do, locked away in this cell she could not escape, but Celestia's words had set gears spinning in her mind.

Power. It all came down to power in the end. How she obsessed over it before her escape from Tartarus. And after, in those few brief weeks of freedom before the princesses descended upon her to end it all.

She could flee them. Celestia thought she was making progress. It would be easier, now, to put on a facade. To pretend that she was following along with the princess' perfect program, to make her believe that she was truly redeemed, that she had truly changed her ways. Just long enough for the princesses to let her out of this cell. Just long enough that their gazes would slip from her, just for a short amount of time—just long enough for her to flee into the wilderness, and never come back.

She didn't care about this cursed mortal form anymore. She missed her old body, her true form, her magic; but the longer she stayed in this form and the longer she adjusted to it, the more she began to realize how much of a hidden gift it was. She still had her wings, and she could still see sharper in the dark than any of the other pony tribes could. She could fly under cover of night, catch the air and flee before Luna and Celestia knew what was going on. By the time they realized that their little prisoner had left, she would already be halfway to the Badlands.

Her demon form was useful for taking souls, amassing power, casting spells she couldn't in this mortal form. But in this form she could walk among other mortals; she would look strange, and off, but she doubted they would attack her on sight. She would be an idle curiosity; something to gawk at, but not something to hunt down and destroy. Her plan—her plan for power, glory, servants and luxury—Celestia had made her see how useless it was. But freedom: freedom was a thing easily found with enough cunning, and she was willing to fight for that.

She could run. She could run from Equestria, let the whole world spread out beneath her wings. Perhaps instead of fleeing past the Badlands she could flee to the dragonlands, or across the ocean, to the zebras. She would have anywhere in the world once she was outside of this damned palace and she doubted the princesses would hunt her down past their borders, not when there were more important things for them to tend to. Not when her form was still sealed, and she was unlikely to pose the same threat to Equestria she did before.

She could run, but what would she have then? Like Celestia's question before, she traced the path of this goal through as well, wondering what that would give her. A life constantly spent on the run, looking over her shoulder for the chance that the princesses might actually think coming after her is worthwhile? Wondering all her life if ponies will finally recognize her for the demon she was?

It all kept coming down to this form of hers. Whatever form she was in—mortal or otherwise—there wasn't a single one that didn't leave her wondering what enemies it would make simply by its inherent nature. Batpony or demon, either way, who would tolerate someone like her in their presence? Even the princesses spoke to her from behind cold iron bars.

She paced around Celestia's firelight, and she wondered, and she paced some more, and she only looked up from the floor when she heard the now-familiar click-click of hoofsteps coming down the hallway.

"Luna," she greeted, and the princess inclined her head in acknowledgement, settling down at the front of her cell to watch.

"I have a question for you," she said, impulsively. It was one of the princesses who got her mind into this tangle in the first place; how could she think the other would help solve it? But there was a difference between the two—while Celestia ruled the day, and was presumably well-liked and used to being that way, Luna wasn't. Luna was all shadows and radiating cold, she could tell from just seeing her, and her gaze pierced deep. To the common pony, her mere presence must be terrifying.

To her, it only reminded her of home.

"Really?" Luna said, with raised brows. "Tell me, then. What is the question you seek to ask me?"

"You…" She hesitated for a moment, thinking through her words. "Celestia has been talking to me about the kind of life I could lead outside this cell. She spoke to me about serving in the castle as one of the staff, instead of a personal servant under your wing. Or else, going farther, serving in one of the frontier settlements under the eye of the royal guard."

She paused, and Luna inclined her head, silently telling her to continue.

"The thing is," she said, "—the thing is, I think that sounds ridiculous. Sure, maybe I'll come around to working with the two of you or whatever. Maybe I'll get tired of lying around in this cell. But even if I did do those things, it's not like anypony would want me around. I'm a demon, and even in this damned mortal form it shows. Nopony is ever going to want a creature like me around in their settlement, or working alongside them as a guard or whatever. It's just—"

She huffed out a sigh. By the end of her tirade, she couldn't help but wonder if there was even a point to asking Luna about this in the first place. "I could never see a life out there, living among the mortals. Not because I'm too good to live with them, but because they would never have me. Celestia says that I can live a life that isn't constantly fighting other creatures and grappling for power. But what else is there? Even if I somehow redeem my ways, who will listen?"

A solemn look had fallen over Luna's face by the time she had finished with her rant. She looked up at the princess expectantly, wondering if it was even worth it to divulge this much information in the first place.

"The problem you are struggling with is the idea that nopony will ever appreciate you, yes?" Luna began.

"...yes?"

"I, too, feel this way. You ask who in the world out there will accept, no, even tolerate a creature such as you. It is a question I have grappled with for many moons. It is a question… a question I have not yet found an answer to. The ponies love my sister's day, but so many of them fear my night. So many of them fear me in kind."

Luna fixed her gaze on her once more—but instead of seeming to pierce through her, it instead seemed to resonate, her eyes full of the kind of struggle that she had spent so long trying to work through for herself.

"Yes, I have no answer to the problem you seek. Some nights, I wonder if there is one. But the solution I have found is this: even in a world full of pain and hatred, there are always those stars in the dark. Those who would love you for who you are even in a crowd of naysayers. There are those out there who do not fear the night the same way my sister's subjects do."

Luna's eyes cast to the batpony stood silent and obedient outside her cell door, and she wondered.

Then the princess' attention slipped back to her. "I believe—no, I know there are ponies out there who will see you not with hatred and with fear, but with respect. I know there are ponies out there who believe you can change; believe you are not the monster other ponies will think you are."

"Who?" she asked. She thought she already knew the answer, but—she had to hear it.

"Celestia is one," Luna said. "And I am another.

"My sister and I have watched you all this time in this cell, from the very moment of your capture. We have seen the way your rage turned to resignment. The way you reached out, even if you did not want to—who can blame you? Who can blame you for resenting the ponies who have trapped you in a form that is not your own?

"Still, you persisted. Still, we have persisted in kind. You think my sister's efforts are in vain, and still, you ask if there is another way. You ask if there can be a better life for you, even while believing there is none.

"Perhaps you will always be seen by the greater masses as a monstrous thing fit only to enslave and burn. I cannot know for certain if there will come the night where either of us finally cast off the shackles of our hate. Perhaps that night will never come.

"But I see you, demon. You have been listening. Whether you realize it or not, you have been making an effort to change. You have been making an effort to ask yourself whether you can have a better life; a life free from strife and pain.

"I cannot promise you love. I cannot promise you a thing so rare for even myself."

Luna shifted to her knees; leaned down almost bowing, so that the princess' eyes and hers were aligned. Cyan on cyan. "But I can promise you that within these walls, while we may reign, you will never be hunted again."

She opened her mouth to reply, only to find that her breath had apparently left her. What was there to say? How could she put words to the feelings that were welling up inside her at Luna's speech; a speech that she had been totally prepared to reject as useless, if it weren't for one simple detail.

Luna, it seemed, knew what it was like to be seen as a monster, too.

And until then, she didn't think it was getting to her all that much. Sure, she was a monster. Sure, she would always be a monster, even locked in a mortal form. But there was nothing she could do to change that; what was the point of getting upset over it?

Damn Celestia. It traced back to her in the end. Celestia, who waited so patiently outside her cell instead of spitting and raging or threatening her, trying to figure out some way to leverage whatever valuable information she might have after her. Celestia, who waited as long as it would take for her to finally open up and answer her stupid, simple question. Celestia, who asked her what the point was of going conquering when it would earn her the same life of hatred and hostility in the end.

Celestia, who made her realize that there was no life out among the mortals for her. Ironic—the princess tried to claim that. But Celestia would never understand what it was like to live a life marked by hatred and fear. She still had faith in the mortals. She was so used to being loved that she believed it was easy for other ponies to be loved, too. How ridiculous.

How ridiculous it was that those words still had a point. How ridiculous that those words still made her think.

And in the end it brought her to the one pony who truly understood—who understood her problem before even she did. Was Luna's life before ruling Equestria, too, marked by bloodshed? By fighting for power, fighting for freedom, fighting for one more day alive in a world that wanted her dead as ashes?

Or perhaps she had been simply used to being ignored, the same way the batpony outside her cell ignored her.

Luna may have been in the shape of a beautiful pony, with stars in her mane that glittered like diamonds, but she could see the ice of the night in her eyes. It wasn't the same as her inner fire, not even close—but she couldn't help but feel kinship, anyway.

You will never be hunted again. Did she trust those words?

As Luna met her gaze, she realized she did.

"...thank you," she said. What else could she say? What words could encompass the depth of the emotion Luna had shown to her; what words could encompass the depth of the very problem that Luna had bared, nestled in her soul? "I think… I think that helps."

It was difficult for her to admit. She had spent all her time down here raging quietly in her cell; raging against the truth of her cursed form, raging against the cold iron bars that kept her locked in, raging against the guard that never looked her way. It felt like a betrayal of herself to admit in any way that the princesses had helped. She had not escaped Tartarus to bow to her enemies.

Were they really her enemies anymore? She searched herself, and realized she did not have as certain of an answer anymore. They had locked her away in two senses, yes, but did she blame them for that? They were only defending what was theirs. She would have done far worse to anypony who tried to steal her chosen souls away. If they were not alicorns, spellcasters of the highest caliber, what would she have done to them in retaliation?

Fair was fair, and her retribution was done. She had stolen their ponies' souls, and they had locked her away for it. Was there anything to go on from there? It wasn't like they had hurt her further. It wasn't like she had hurt them further.

But could she really do it? Could she accept anything as absurd as a truce?

It was then that she made a choice.

It was surprisingly warm up there at the top of one of the Canterlot palace's highest towers, even though the sun hovered at the edge of the horizon, waiting to fall beneath it at the lighting of a horn. Perhaps she was simply used to the dungeons, to huddling around Princess Celestia's casted firelight to ward off the chill. Perhaps it was something about the princess herself. She looked over to where the solar princess was stood, her eyes far in the distance as she stood and watched the horizon from over the balcony.

There was a breeze running through her coat. It was an odd sensation. The breeze ran through her hair—no, her mane, now, played with it as it had done in the past. But there was also a tail at her back she was distinctly aware of with the wind, and then there was the fine forest of hairs covering her entire body in that coat of hers.

Shame it was so short. She would have loved some decent protection against the breeze; even free from the dungeons, her new body was still not used to the temperature of the surface world.

"Whenever you are ready, Celestia," Princess Luna said, standing opposite to her sister. Her eyes glanced to the other pony with them. "And you? How are you faring?"

She shifted her wings against her body awkwardly. In the past she would have replied to such a question with arrogance; tilted her head up and said something about being just fine, thank you.

Then again, in the past, there would have been nopony to ask her the question at all.

"I'm alright," she said as she gave a gentle nod to Princess Luna. "I think I'm finally getting used to this body."

Wasn't that a thought. Her finally getting adjusted to this body some day, even as stark a change as the mortal form was.

But she had so many years to get used to it still. All the years of her immortal life, laid out before her. What a future life it was. No more fighting. No more grappling for power. No more looking over her shoulder for enemies at every turn.

Just her, the princesses, and this: Celestia, who looked at her and smiled at her response. "I am glad. It was a shame seeing you down there in that cell. The open air suits you much better."

Something about those words, the casual kindness that both the princesses gave her, made something dark and crumbling within her go a little more soft.

Was she becoming less of a demon, consorting with ponies like this? Ha. Probably.

But those demons down in Tartarus would never have what she had, and they would never know the simple joy of finally being able to trust somepony else to watch her back.

"Are you ready, Luna?" Celestia asked.

"I have been, yes," Luna said, teasing but affectionate.

"Then let us usher in the night." In unison, the sisters' horns began to glow, and the sun began to set.

Logically, she knew that the princesses controlled the day and night. But it was one thing to know that Princess Celestia set the sun with her magic and her magic alone, and another thing to see it; she could taste the ozone in the air, the celestial heat of her power as her mane blew behind her in a breeze and the sky began to shade from sundown red to night-sky blue.

Princess Luna lit her horn, and she turned to see the first few stars flickering back into existence.

She had always thought the night sky beautiful, from the very first time she saw them as she was fleeing Tartarus. The novelty had not worn off; she didn't think the novelty would ever wear off. Princess Celestia's aura of warmth began to ebb, the taste of ozone on her tongue fading, and Princess Luna's cold began to wash over her instead, eliciting a full-body shiver.

Princess Celestia laughed softly, with good nature, and her magic lit a familiar light at her side.

She rolled her eyes, but shifted closer, and watched from the comfort of a celestial firelight as Princess Luna brought the moon to its place in the sky. Around her as she channeled her magic into her moon, all the world seemed to dim; even the crickets chirping in her ears fell to silence. Pure, comfortable quiet, as the night rose all around them and the sky began to glitter again.

In the end, her choices had been few: go back to Tartarus, flee Equestria, or take a place at the princess' side. She had not spent all this time escaping from Tartarus just to end up back there again, and a life spent in exile and fear sounded like no life at all. With the princesses, she would always be bound to serve them, tied by their every word.

But was that such a terrible thing: living a life always with the two ponies who seemed to care about her the most? Who trusted she could change, despite everything? They saw a demon in bat's skin and talked to her anyway. They had seen her true form in all its terrible glory, and they wondered if, perhaps, she would stay.

That wasn't so bad, in the end. Once she had gotten used to the princesses and the strange thought that they weren't her enemies after all, it wasn't a bad choice to make.

Princess Celestia trusted in her and showed her a better way. Princess Luna knew full well what she was and replied, Look, I am like you, too.

Perhaps even if she had the option of true freedom, the option of walking among the ponies as truly one of their own, with no hate and no pain and no fear, she would still have chosen to work under the princesses. They knew her, after all.

And she hoped she would get to know them.

She watched the moon rise into the sky, putting the sun to sleep for the night, and she thought of something.

"Princesses?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"Could I… could you call me… Sunset?"

A Haughty Spirit Before a Fall

Dark days. Unhappy days.

Days that Sunset has not seen in a while, since her freedom from that cell. It would be unfair to say that her time with the princesses was all sunshine and roses, starlight and joy, but certainly the princesses tended to be either rather upbeat (Celestia) or else so stoic and determined that any stormclouds on the horizon seemed like they would pass sooner rather than later. (Luna)

But Lady Luna has always had her demons. (Hah.) Her Lady has always had shadows looming behind her; those shadows were the reason Sunset was drawn to her, after all. They both shared the same pain, the same struggles.

Those old wounds seem to be bothering her as of late. Lady Luna's patience has never been the longest thing, nor her temper, but now she seems to snap at every slight. The servants of the castle have started to flinch away from her gaze, or else attempt to rope the batponies into doing their tasks for them, as hesitant as they have always been around them. The batponies are to the commoners as she is to them—monstrous in shape. Like them, but not. Just dissimilar enough to send chills down one's spine.

Sunset's own patience with them has started to wane in kind. Yes, there is something bothering Lady Luna, but it is not fair to her to flinch away from her every time she is anything less than her usual composed self. More than once she is seized with the tempting urge to flash fangs at one of the cowering servants, the maids who change her sheets or the butlers who deliver her meals. They have never trusted her, and now they can't even trust the mare who pulled her out of her path of destruction that decade ago?

Ridiculous. They're all ridiculous. If they want something to fear, she should give it to them.

But she restrains herself, for Lady Luna's sake. Lady Luna is dealing with enough, even if she cannot see what pain lies behind that veiled, angry gaze. She does not need to deal with the servants deciding to desert completely should she decide to take her own frustrations out on them, no matter how much she wishes to. A servant should be loyal to their master, just like Sunset is to her Lady. Pathetic.

Princess Celestia is of little help in this regard. She does not bother even coming to her with these restrained impulses. One of the few things they do not agree on in the first place is tolerance. Tolerating the fools that dare to walk the castle halls, pestering her Lady with inane requests. Tolerating the idiots who think she is something to fear, her Lady of the night. Can't they see how beautiful she is? They will never know how hard she works under cover of darkness to keep them all safe.

If she mentioned the fear of the servants who work the night shift in the palace, what would she say? Something pretty and vapid about how they will learn to trust, in the end. They will learn, from one's actions, that one is not the monster they initially thought one was in the first place.

To which Sunset would reply, how dare they fear me in the first place. How dare they consign her to the life in Tartarus she thought she had to accept, surrounded by enemies? It was because of them that she thought there was nothing better for her out there; that any good in her life she had to claw her way to, or else it would slip through her talons.

So, no, she does not go to Celestia. She suspects that Lady Luna has done the same, which only serves to cement her beliefs. If Lady Luna cannot even go to her own sister for advice, then how would Princess Celestia be helpful to her?

She does not bring this up to Lady Luna, either. Not out of a belief that she wouldn't be able to help, but simply because her Lady already has so much to deal with. This darkness that has come over her, this resentment against the world around her; it must weigh so heavily upon her in addition to her usual duties. It's fine. Sunset can deal with it herself. If she dealt with years upon years of being a demon, believing that she deserved Tartarus and that she deserved nothing better, she can deal with this.

Lady Luna, of course, notices her simmering irritation. She never could hide anything from her.

Lady Luna calls her in the late hours of the night, almost morning, after both their duties are mostly completed. Sunset enters her quarters with a bow and a spread of her wings. "What can I do for you, my Lady?"

"Sunset," Lady Luna says, in a rather less formal voice than usual, and Sunset folds her wings and rises from the bow. This must not be a matter relating to her duties, then.

"Pray tell, has there been… anything bothering you, of late?"

"Nothing my Lady needs concern herself with," Sunset replies almost immediately. She doesn't. Sunset can handle herself.

"So there is something, then." Lady Luna raises her eyebrows and fixes Sunset with a sharpness in her gaze that says, Out with it.

Sunset sighs mentally. "It's nothing, really. I've just been… more aware… of the way ponies tend to react to me, lately. It's nothing."

"Oh? Is that the case? Yet you seem to circle ever-closer to my side as of late, and bare your fangs quite a bit more ferociously when called upon to frighten. Nothing, indeed."

She's got her there. Sunset scuffs a hoof against the royal blue carpet, then immediately regrets it. "I mean—I can deal with it. It's nothing you should concern yourself with, my Lady."

"Is my subject's well-being not something I should be concerned with, Sunset Shimmer? Are you to decide what matters are and are not my concern?"

"No—no, not at all. Apologies, my Lady."

Lady Luna's expression softens a few degrees, and Sunset feels herself relax in kind. "I do not mean any harshness, Sunset. I was hoping you would open up to me about this. The matter of your feelings is my responsibility, even if you may not think so, and I would happily help resolve whatever is weighing so heavily upon you."

"I just…" Sunset replies. "You've been working so hard, my Lady. I don't want to be a burden."

"Sunset Shimmer," Lady Luna says. "Many things in my long life have been a burden. You are not, and could never be, one of them."

The sigh that slips from her is soft and relieved, if not entirely intentional. It's just so nice to hear those words. To be reminded of the reason she came up from those dungeons those years ago. "Of course, my Lady."

She trots across the room and lays down across from Lady Luna, tucking her back legs underneath her in a well-practiced motion. "I'm just… frustrated, I suppose. Frustrated with the world. Frustrated with the ponies in it. Frustrated, most of all, with…"

She huffs. "It sounds silly when I say it, but frustrated with the servants. They've been doing an excellent job, as they always have. It's just—I'm sorry to bring this up, but surely you've noticed. They've been flinching away from me. From us."

"Yes, I have noticed," Lady Luna confirms, her face impassive.

"I keep thinking, it's just not fair. I know, I know, life isn't fair, but after all this time…"

She huffs. "I just thought they would have gotten used to me by now.

"It's a stupid thought, I've always been seen as a monster. Why would that change? They haven't let it affect their work or anything. I should just ignore them. But it gets to me, you know? Every fearful stare, every flinch. I keep feeling like I should be looking over my shoulder, just in case one of them gets any ideas. You know how easily fear can turn into hate.

"The worst part is, there's nothing I can do about it. If I tried to get one of them in a conversation, they'd run away. Or else nod along, lying through their teeth, and I'd rather be openly despised than have some simpering fool try to hide it like a damn noblepony. If we replaced them, somepony else would come along and act the exact same way.

"So I just sit there, smiling through my teeth every time I see one of them try to hide a flinch when I get close, and I just. I'm fucking exhausted of it, you know? I'm tired of being hated. I know they'll never stop, I know there's no way to get them to fucking stop, but…

"Tartarus," she says, putting her head in her hooves. When did I get this soft? she thinks, but it's a thought she doesn't voice. She was only made aware of the terrible amount of hatred and fear that surrounded her when she started serving the princesses; saying that thought out loud would read as an insult, even if she never intended it. The princesses were the best thing that happened to her.

Lady Luna is silent for a long moment, solemn. She looks up and can see the words turning and turning in her head, her Lady's eyes focused as she figures out what to say.

"I fear," Lady Luna starts, "—that our troubles are the very same.

"I, too, have been noticing the stares ponies have given me out in public. It is everywhere; from the simpering nobleponies who think they can bribe or talk their way into an audience with me, to the few ponies that witness me as I fly through the night.

"The few ponies who witness me, for here is the thing—out there, in the darkness, the streets are empty. At certain hours, the lamps lie dark, unburning, and the cobbles are empty of the clopping of my subjects' hooves. Nopony awaits me as I venture out to their cities in the night. Nopony awaits me as I fly back to the palace after my work is done, not even to admire my silhouette against the stars.

"Were Celestia to go out there during her day, she would be wading through a swamp of her admirers. She has to take carriages when she leaves the palace in the day, pulled by the pegasi of her Day Guard, or else she cannot get through the ponies which flock to meet her. Streets overflow where she walks. Crowds cluster where she speaks. All of them, out there during her brilliant day, witnessing her, admiring her. She shines with the light of her sun, everywhere she goes, and I am…

"...I am eclipsed. There is nopony out there besides my loyal batponies, my Night Guard, and recently even that has become a sparse comfort. So many years I have lived, Sunset Shimmer. So many years I have ruled over ponies whom hide from the brilliance of the stars, only daring to come out at the touch of my sister's hooves on the cobblestone. When she raises her sun into the sky to blot out my work, the ponies jump for joy. When I set my moon into motion and light my night the same way, nopony sees.

"And in the moments when I am witnessed by our subjects, they cower. They hide. They flinch."

Lady Luna spits the word flinch out searing with anger, seething. Lady Luna is as cold as the moon which hangs over them all, and with her anger, her voice is so cold it threatens to burn.

Sunset has leaned forward without even thinking. Her heart is racing with her Lady's anger, because she understands. Oh, does she understand the hatred which threatens at her voice, threatens to burst out of it entirely. She understands it in the way she has to restrain baring her teeth at those damnable servants who think they can see the monster in her blood-red coat and slitted eyes. She understands it in the way Lady Luna's eyes lock with hers, and they remember; yes, they are both monsters. Yes, they are cut of the same cloth. Yes, they understand—

"It isn't fair," Sunset seethes.

"It was never fair, my most loyal servant," Lady Luna replies. "It has not been fair for as long as I lived."

She sighs, her Lady does, with the weight of millenia. "And for all the moons I have seen, I have never found a way to lift this curse we live beneath. Are we always consigned to be hated? Is this supposed to be our fate, dear Sunset?"

"No," Sunset spits, with an intensity that surprises herself. Surprises herself, but not for long.

She breathes in, deep. Her words are slow and measured when she begins to speak again. "For so long, I thought Tartarus was supposed to be my only fate. My life was fire and brimstone, fighting other demons and grappling for territory and power that didn't mean a thing.

"Then I saw two princesses descend into Tartarus for the first time, and raise land from nothing. I saw you freeze magma that had boiled for thousands of years with your power. I saw the demons that tried to destroy you, to take your power for their own, except you never permitted them to lay a claw upon you.

"From the moment I saw you descend into my hell, I knew I wanted to be as powerful as you. I had resigned myself to that fate, but you changed it. You showed me that there was a surface. You showed me I could have something else, anything that wasn't fire and brimstone and hate.

"And then you captured me, and stuck me in this form. And I was angry, right? You remember that. I was so angry about being stuck in a form that wasn't mine. All my powers locked away, maybe for good.

"But then, instead of leaving me to rot in that cell, you visited. You told me, again, that there was another way. That we might be monsters, and that we'll be monsters forever, even in a different form, but we can still have a life. We can still be loved."

She raises her eyes up to meet her Lady, wide and trusting and grateful—so grateful, for everything Lady Luna has done for her. "Maybe this is our life now. But you showed me before, twice, that there was always, always another way. There is some way to make a life where we don't have to suffer under the gaze of under ponies. We don't have to be trapped under their hate. We can make this better. You can make this better, my Lady. I believe in you. I always have."

Lady Luna is quiet for a long, long moment.

Then, all at once, she stands and Sunset finds herself being swept into a velvet-winged hug.

Lady Luna is so big she engulfs her in it, and it's all Sunset can do to hug back with her own leathery wings, clinging to her with them. It's such a foreign sensation, being held; she can't remember the last time she's been held like this. She's not sure she's ever been held like this.

All she knows is that her Lady is here, and her Lady is hugging her, and her Lady's head is rested so gently on her shoulder and Lady Luna murmurs into her ear, "Thank you, Sunset Shimmer."

"Anything. Anything for you, my Lady."

Lady Luna pulls back, and Sunset immediately finds herself missing her presence despite the midnight chill of it. Her Lady looks… amused, of all things.

"I do recall this was supposed to be a conversation about you, Sunset Shimmer," Lady Luna remarks, which earns a laugh out of her, too.

"I guess it was about both our feelings. Our shared problem, you know? The way ponies treat us. It's the same, even if you interact with them in a different way than I interact with them."

"You are much more permitted to terrify them, yes," Lady Luna says.

Sunset's mouth quirks sharply in a half-smile. "I terrify the masses on your orders," she reminds her.

"Ah, details," Lady Luna says, and then they're laughing, laughing with the weight of everything that is now off their shoulders and out in the cool night air, relieved.

Of course, one little conversation about their feelings would never be enough to end the weight of all the things that Sunset now knows hangs over them both. If anything, it only serves to make her more aware of it. Every time a maid looks to be holding back fear by the skin of her teeth before scurrying away as soon as she's done delivering fresh blankets, Sunset can now only think of Lady Luna. Poor Luna, all alone in the night; poor Lady Luna, who nobody else seems to notice how hard she works.

It is not often that she interacts with Celestia. Some days she finds herself missing it. She's grown attached to the princess' warmth. But these days it's a kind of relief she doesn't see her often; Sunset doesn't know what she'd say to her if she did.

You've lived alongside Lady Luna your whole lives, haven't you? She wants to ask. How have you never noticed how sad your pretty life makes her feel?

It's not fair to put it all on Princess Celestia, isn't it? Surely she would have noticed. Surely there just wasn't much she could have done, just like the two of them can hardly do anything to free themselves from the mire of outside hatred they find themselves in.

Still, Sunset wonders.

Still, Sunset thinks it's a good thing she hasn't gotten the chance to ask the princess these questions. She might not like the answers.

These days it is a relief every time Sunset is sent out of the castle for her duties. Working in darkness against the enemies of the Crown, there is nopony to see her frustration. Witnesses are rare in her line of work, and almost never intentional.

And there is something sharply satisfying about digging up blackmail on a pony she knows wouldn't think twice about calling the guards on her in another life. Who cares what will happen to them after she's done? They were opposing the Crown, anyway. They were opposing Lady Luna. No doubt they deserved it.

Outside of her work she begins to feel a sense of longing for the things she does during. The ponies—and other things, other species or just straight-up monsters—she deals with are 'acceptable targets'. Nobody will get too upset when they vanish one day. But she's been thinking, these days, there's not enough acceptable targets. Who cares if she upsets some noblepony by outing his affairs for all and sundry? He wouldn't care a lick about her. Just another monster to mock, or worse. If the nobility only tolerate Celestia's rule, they outright despise Lady Luna, and the thought burns.

And as the nights pass, it begins to leave her frustrated. Deal with only these creatures, in only this way. Blackmail only these ponies. Set up an ambush in the night alongside the Night Guard, flickering through the shadows and relaying what she sees to the batponies around her, all the time wishing she could sink her fangs into something that had done more than this.

She wants destruction. She wants revenge, for every second she had been made to spend down in Tartarus and for every moment she thought that was the only life she could ever have. She wants to take those looks of fear and disgust and tear them off those ponies' faces. They are so determined to fear her? Then let them have something to fear.

It comes to a head as she's flying back to the palace late one night. It will be dawn in only an hour or so, and Celestia's day will reign over the world again. Sunset isn't thinking much of that, though; she's flying absentmindedly, thinking seething thoughts, anger boiling underneath her skin. She's thinking of how the work she does feels petty; never enough, these days. She wants to do something real. She wants things to change. She has always chased power, always felt like she needed it, needed the ability to shape the world around her into thorns before the world hurt her with the same, but she thought she was satisfied with what she had. What better power was there than the very princess of the night as her mentor and empress? To go any higher would be to surpass the gods themselves, and Sunset wasn't that arrogant.

But what use was all this supposed power if she could never do anything with it? If she could never strike down the gawking eyes at every corner? If she could not claim what was rightfully hers: a life outside of the shadows?

She alights on the balcony just outside one of the dining halls with a heavy clack of hooves on marble, tucking her wings at her side angrily.

Then she hears it: two raised voices, distantly speaking to each other. Arguing, from the sound of it, but at this distance Sunset can't hear what.

Trained as she is in matters of subterfuge, she can't help but want to listen in. Her hoofsteps become far less heavy on the stone as she creeps inward through the palace, passing the long dining hall and pulling open the doors softly with a wing, tufted ears pricked for the sound of that conversation.

A few rooms and a hallway down, she can finally hear the sound of the argument enough to identify the voices. It's… Lady Luna. Lady Luna and her sister, locked in an argument about something.

She should leave. She may serve them, but the princess' matters are not her business. What they choose to leave behind closed doors should stay behind closed doors. She owes them too much to breach their trust like this.

Then again, it's a rare occasion when Sunset actually listens to her better nature.

She slips into a disused side room—a guest bedroom, from the looks of things, clean and well-kept but otherwise untouched—and trots over to the wall, pressing her ear to the stone to hear the sisters more clearly.

"And of the servants?" Celestia. "I understand your displeasure with how they have been treating you, and I am sorry. But the ponies who serve us in this palace are not chess pieces to be swapped out on a whim! They are our subjects, same as any other—and moral matters aside, what will happen when we run out of ponies willing to serve beneath you?"

"Hah. I suspect those number few in the first place, don't they, sister? Are you worried that I may eventually have to resort to washing my sheets and cooking my food myself? Surely a thought that has never crossed your mind, Celestia."

"The issue is not which of our subjects are willing to serve you—even though there are far more ponies who fit that than you might think, Luna. The issue is that you cannot treat your subjects as disposable. Don't you care for them, Luna? These are ponies' livelihoods we are talking about, my sister! Some of the ponies you are proposing be dismissed rely on this income solely to feed their families. What about them, Luna?"

"Can they not find work elsewhere? There are leagues of simpering nobility living right here in Canterlot who would love to have a pony skilled enough to work under the princesses, rejects or not. I should not have to tolerate constant disrespect from the subjects who live under my very wing, Celestia."

"There are other ways to deal with the problems you are facing with your servants, Luna. They will trust you in the end, you know. A panicked mind can be soothed. You can show them that you are no threat, if only you try a little harder. They will see that their fears are unfounded, in the end, and you will have won their loyalty."

"Oh? Change their ways, you say—drive them to act better through my own actions? And how effective has that tactic been on the nobleponies, Celestia? Have your actions gotten them to change their ways; to stop attempting to drain every bit from your coffers? There are ponies in this castle who have been serving under us their entire lives, and they have not changed. My own, most loyal subject has been living in this castle for nigh on a decade, and the servants still treat her like some wild animal who may bite at the slightest provocation!"

"...Luna," Celestia says. "Is this about Sunset? I—I haven't seen much more than a glimpse of her for moons, is she alright?"

"Sunset," Luna replies, "—is perfectly fine. She has been dealing with the servants admirably, with nary a hint of temper from her even though she would be well within her rights to deal with her problem in her own ways. Certainly I would not blame her for it. She has been bearing this weight upon her shoulders same as I have, and the night has come where I have grown tired of watching her bear it. I have grown tired of putting up with these disloyal subjects myself. They will be gone, and if I cannot find anypony else who dares tolerate my presence…"

A hesitation, the kind of space where Sunset would put a sigh if she wasn't the one in that conversation, most likely desperately trying to push down an emotional outburst.

"...so be it."

"Luna," Celestia says, a note of worry in her voice. "Luna, wait. There is more to be said here—I can help you!"

"Enough, Celestia. I grow tired of this conversation."

Sunset hears a door swing open and fall shut again. One set of hoofsteps clicking on the marble, away from her. The sounds fade. There is quiet.

Rather than leave the same way she entered, through the door, and risk detection by some nosy servant who might also have been snooping on the princesses' argument, she slips into the shadow cast by the bed and leaves through there instead.

That just leaves the matter of how Sunset is to mention the conversation she'd overheard to Lady Luna. The best action, here, of course, would just be to not bring it up at all. Act like nothing happened, like she didn't hear the royal sisters arguing in a way she's never heard them argue before. Yes, it was a measured debate, tense as it was, but still—she's never heard Lady Luna talk to Celestia like that. With that note of strain in her tone, like she was about to slip into the Royal Canterlot Voice at any moment; or worse, burst into tears.

Neither Sunset nor Lady Luna have ever been good at expressing their emotions. It's a mutual understanding between the two that bonds them together in that way; that they both know they are terrible at putting words to what they feel inside, at wanting to do such a thing in the first place, and it's fine. Lady Luna understands if it might take a few tries, a few deflections for her to really see what's on Sunset's mind. She doesn't hold it against her.

Celestia has always been good with Sunset's feelings, too, but it's different. Celestia is endlessly patient, a warmth at the edge of her barriers that gradually melts them down, lets her know that it's okay to put words to her feelings, even if she's awful at it. But Celestia is open and honest and Celestia has never just gotten her the same way Lady Luna does. She disagrees with Celestia on many things. She cannot remember the last time she disagreed with Lady Luna over anything major, anything more than a slip of communication, a brief misunderstanding. Has she ever?

It is never Celestia's comfort that she seeks when something in her aches homesick and she misses her upright form, her tattered wings, her magic. It is never Celestia's quarters that she slips to when she wishes for comfort, for a presence she can trust to relax her guard around without fearing talons in her back.

It is, and has always been, Luna.

She wonders at that. Rolls the thought around in her mind, matches it against the terrible way Lady Luna had sounded as she talked to Celestia that one early morning. Matches it against the way she herself had been refusing to go to Celestia about this, for fear of the very same thing that happened to her. Why don't you try and fix it, Celestia had been saying. You can change their minds! They can trust you!

She had said show them you are no threat, if only you try a little harder, and in that moment Sunset had wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, I am trying!

She is trying, she always has been. She has always wanted a better life. For the last ten years she has lived in the shadows of the Canterlot palace, only acknowledged as an equal by Lady Luna's batpony subjects (and only barely) and by Lady Luna herself. For the last ten years she has served, and she has tried, and she has raged against the world and she has been holding herself back against the ponies who hate her so bravely and she is sick of it.

What has striving gotten her in the end? A palace with no home? Less friends than there are moons in the sky? Ten years—ten years, isn't that supposed to be a long while for mortals? It feels like a long while for her, finally aware of the passing of time, of the cycle from stars to blue skies to stars again, lit by the beauty of Lady Luna's moonlight.

She's tired. She's tired of all this. Holding herself back and trying to tell herself that the princesses don't want it, it would be bad for the princesses, so don't eviscerate that asshole who thinks he can look down upon her and call her Lady Luna's lapdog—all the while seething inside. All the while wishing, wishing, wishing that something would change.

But nothing has changed, has it? Not even Celestia.

She… she loves Celestia, doesn't she? It was Celestia who spent all that time sitting outside her cell; all that time spent waiting, gently, asking, seeing the seething demon on the other side of the cell not showing any sign of budging in her hate. And yet she never got frustrated with her, or upset. She never yelled. She never threatened. It was just Celestia there, always, a constant company and the only warmth in the dingy, cold depths of those dungeons for so long.

She owes Celestia so much. She owes Celestia her life. She would not be where she is now if Celestia didn't show her that the path she was trying to walk was never going to bring her any tangible happiness. She would not be serving joyously under Luna's wing if Celestia hadn't been there first; if Celestia hadn't helped to take her down, to talk her down, to pull her from that terrible path.

Dear, dear Celestia. Noble and warm and… naive.

Perhaps Sunset was right when she called her that, after all.

All these thoughts, spinning conflicted in her head. This love and respect and trust for Celestia mixed with the hole in her heart that the words if only you tried seems to have opened. Sunset doesn't know how to deal with it. She doesn't know what to do with it. She needs…

…she needs to speak with Luna.

She knocks thrice on the door to Lady Luna's chambers with one wing.

"Who is…?" she hears Lady Luna ask, with quite a bit more ice in her voice than she's used to hearing. The door opens.

"Oh, Sunset Shimmer, my most loyal servant. I was wondering when you'd visit. Come in, I have been expecting you."

"You have?" Sunset asks, ducking beneath her velvet wing to proceed into the room proper. She's always liked the atmosphere of Lady Luna's quarters. She keeps them far too cold—part of her wonders if Lady Luna even realizes how chilly her bedroom is—but the architectural style is quite beautiful. Blue sandstone accents glitter in the walls. Morning glories bloom on the trellises of the balcony. The ceiling is painted with tiny, iridescent stars in the patterns of the same constellations Lady Luna has painted into the sky.

"It has been far too long since you have visited, Sunset," Lady Luna replies. "And I believe we both have much that is weighing on our minds and hearts."

"Yes, um," Sunset starts, realizing that now she has to confess what she overheard between Lady Luna and Celestia the other night, or else hold her tongue. "I apologize, my Lady. Two nights ago, I was flying back from an errand outside the palace and heard you and Celestia arguing over something. I… may have eavesdropped."

"Oh?" Sunset genuinely cannot read Lady Luna's expression right now. Her eyebrows are raised, in curiosity, in surprise?—but she can't tell anything beyond the surface. "Pray tell, how much did you hear?"

"Ah… something about the servants? The servants under the night shift in particular. Celestia seemed quite displeased with how you were proposing to treat them. And, I heard, you…"

She shuffles her wings awkwardly in an excuse to pause. "You mentioned me. You mentioned the things I was dealing with, that conversation we had the other night, and I'm… I'm flattered by your praise."

It's hard for her to put into words the kind of emotions overhearing her Lady's argument has made her feel. She knows that Lady Luna likes her, of course she does, but it's one thing to like a pony because they serve you as loyally and faithfully as they would nopony else—and quite another overhearing her Lady defending her to her sister. Defending her emotions. Defending the things that they've both been going through. Defending her… right to have those emotions in the first place, she supposes.

It's a new feeling, almost overwhelming in its unfamiliarity. The fact of the matter is—she's never had anypony defend her like that before. She's never had anypony treat her in this way.

She's grateful for it, yes. So grateful. So grateful that out of all the world, Lady Luna is the one who treats her like herself. Celestia may treat her like just any other pony, and she supposes she is grateful for that, too, but that's the thing; Celestia quite willfully treats her like she could be any other pony working in the castle or walking in the streets below. Celestia treats her like she could be just any one of those ponies, another face in the masses.

But Sunset will never be any of those ponies. That is a long-established fact; something even the truth of her form cannot conceal. Lady Luna knows this, and Lady Luna understands this, and she loves her for that.

"I just—" She struggles to elaborate, just in case Lady Luna is still displeased by her eavesdropping, it's quite hard to tell at the moment, "—thank you. Thank you so much, my Lady. I'm always grateful that you've always been at my side, even when nopony else is."

She sighs. "Even when the servants think they can get away with treating me like a rabid dog to be avoided."

"That is the crux of the matter, is it not?" Lady Luna says. "You shall be happy to know that in any case, all of the servants who have been mistreating us so no longer work beneath the Crown."

Sunset blinks. "Right, I… that's about what it sounded like, from what I overheard…"

She glances up at her Lady, daring the slightest hint of a smile. "You really…? You managed to do it in the end? Your sister sounded unhappy with your decision."

Lady Luna snorts. "Even my sister cannot decide how I command those beneath my rule. Those servants worked beneath me, and I am free to do what I wish with them; even banishing them from the palace entirely. They do not deserve to work for the likes of you and I if they are incapable of practicing such a thing as simple respect."

Sunset does smile, now, sharply. "As it should be, my Lady. You were right. Princess Celestia just cares too much about the poor little feelings of the ponies beneath her, and not whether or not they should be respected in the first place. Why should we have to tolerate them when they can't even tolerate us?"

"Most right," Lady Luna says, flashing her a dark smile in return. "We may be viewed as monstrous by the majority of the population, but we should be entitled to respect here of all places, in our very seat of power."

"We should be entitled to respect everywhere," Sunset hisses, without really thinking. She has kept these feelings back for a long time, not wanting to show her true, searing, angry self to even the likes of Lady Luna, who does have to rule these imbeciles. But now in the face of Celestia's ridiculous opinions, the molten anger within her is boiling over.

"Think about it," Sunset says, beginning to pace. "I'm just a simple servant. Maybe I don't have the right to demand this, when I've already been given so much. I can deal with the hate as I walk these halls; it's far better than what would be waiting for me outside of them.

"But you? You rule Equestria, too! Equestria is not only Celestia's domain, for her to preside over and to be loved for. Equestria may be hers when the sun is in the sky, but it is yours when darkness falls. Why should ponies flinch away from you when they see your shadow in the sky? They should rejoice! They should be celebrating you, my Lady. They should be celebrating your power, they should be celebrating your beauty!"

"Exactly," Lady Luna hisses, fervent.

Sunset pauses, caught off-guard by the ferocity with which Lady Luna spits the word. Her Lady, for all her grief, ultimately has far less to deal with from the populace in the end than Sunset does. At least Lady Luna is respected for her nature, if not loved. At least Lady Luna doesn't have a chance of being attacked in the streets.

Then again, far fewer ponies even know Sunset's existence. All of Equestria knows of Lady Luna; all of Equestria's eyes are on her, watching, taunting. There are vanishingly few ponies in the night who will appreciate her, who will understand; there will always be the nobility, the scared commoners, who perceive her as something to hide from.

How heavy must that weigh on a pony's back? How heavy must that weigh on hers?

"I do listen to my sister, despite what she may think," Lady Luna says. "We must treat the ponies beneath our rule right, she says. They are our subjects, and we have so much power over them—we must use that power right, do we not? They deserve—ha—they deserve respect.

"But like you said, my loyal servant: do they deserve tolerance if they will not tolerate us in turn? Restraint? Respect? We have power, yes, but what has it ever done for us? It has put me as the center of attention, but not as an idol, never as something to be loved. I am a monster to be gawked at, hidden away behind these palace walls during the light of day. They do not know me. They do not respect me. When I am awake to roam during my beautiful night, I look down at the empty streets and I know—they are hiding. They are hiding from me.

"Have I not been a good ruler, Sunset Shimmer? Have I not listened to my sister's advice? I restrain myself, much as you have. I guard myself with idle, empty threats, but never have I acted upon any of them.

"I defended you, Sunset Shimmer, because in you I see my troubles. All my worries, all my pain; they are reflected in you, too, are they not? They are the struggles of monsters, Sunset Shimmer. They are the struggles of nightmares like us who the common ponies see unfit for the streets. When was the last time you let yourself be witnessed outside these walls, Sunset?"

"A week ago," Sunset says, remembering, "To threaten a particularly difficult pony who wasn't listening to the Crown's warnings."

"And that is precisely my point, Sunset Shimmer. Even in the shadow of my wing, you have only ever used your presence as a threat. A tool to push ponies to do your bidding. Is that all you are, my loyal servant? Is that all you wish your existence to be? Knowing you, I think not."

"You know why I left Tartarus, my Lady," Sunset says. She sighs. "Even here, surrounded by hatred, I feel more at home than down there in the depths."

"Hardly a choice, is it not? Ironic that the thing my sister worried most about when we acquired you is the very thing you still struggle with to this day. Do you still believe your only choices are between hellfire and hatred? Do you still believe yourself so trapped?"

"Serving under you has been wonderful, my Lady. I would choose no other option."

"You say that, Sunset Shimmer. Yet I see in your eyes and your voice that you still long for something more. You have always burned with ambition, my loyal subject. It is for this ambition that I ask: what would you do to gain that life you long for, that freedom?"

"I…" Sunset asks. The answer should be obvious, shouldn't it? It should come to her lips in a heartbeat. Anything.

But she hesitates, because even after all this, Celestia's words and advice still ring in her head. She came up to Tartarus for the first time and almost dashed her only chance on the rocks of the princesses' power. It was only by the grace of their mercy that she even ended up with this life in the first place. What would have happened if she had tried to overthrow the subjects of a less benevolent ruler? What then?

Celestia talked her down from her goals of conquest because she showed her that there was no point to such a goal. Even if she made a throne from the souls of the ponies she'd enslaved, where would that leave her in the end? She would end up shackled to the very thing she thought she wanted so badly.

"The question isn't what would I do," Sunset begins, words drawn out with realization. "It's how I would do it."

Lady Luna throws her head back and laughs, a vicious thing. "Well said, my most loyal servant! Well said indeed."

It may be well said, but the question still hangs in the air between them. After all, it is a question that Lady Luna herself admitted she had no answer to in front of her, all those years ago. How can one free themselves from the shackles of hatred in a world so full of it? Filled with ponies determined to hate them, determined to find a way to throw down, crush, destroy the things that disgust them so, like swatting a spider?

You destroy them first, Sunset thinks, remembering days lived in hellfire and brimstone, where destroying your enemies before they destroyed you was the only way to survive.

But that is quite a demonic thought, so Sunset pushes it down; after all these years spent in batpony form, the action is automatic. Surely Lady Luna does not mean to go that far.

Surely.

Surely, the thought echoes in her mind when Lady Luna calls her back into her chambers less than a week later.

Surely, she thinks, Lady Luna has some other plan. Perhaps she will take the fields of diplomacy; perhaps she will try her luck against her sister again, fruitless though that endeavor seems to be. Perhaps Celestia will finally get it through her skull that her naive little suggestions are just that: naive.

Ha. That seems about as likely as the ponies spontaneously changing their minds and deciding to love them after all.

Lady Luna seems agitated when she enters her quarters, the door left ajar. "Do close that behind you, Sunset," Lady Luna says with a gesture of her wing, and she does as ordered.

"My Lady," Sunset says, giving her customary bow. "How may I serve you?"

"Sunset Shimmer," Lady Luna begins, "The last time you were in these chambers, you proposed an interesting question indeed. How would you go about earning the life of freedom you so desire?"

A pause between them. "Well?" Lady Luna prompts, and Sunset blinks, realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"You wouldn't like the answer to that, my Lady," she says, stubbornly pushing demonic instinct down deeper into the back of her mind.

"Oh? Is that so, Sunset Shimmer? Perhaps I am more tolerant of whatever ideas you have brewing in your mind than you think."

Or perhaps, Sunset thinks, she's trying to make a point. The sisters both have that in common, she knows, prompting the other pony in a conversation to answer a question they already know the answer to, so they can build upon it.

It is a distinct kind of discomfort to think that her innermost anger might be so easily read.

Then again, who else does she spend more time with besides Lady Luna? Who else does she have more in common with?

Well. Her Lady is waiting for an answer. "Our problem," Sunset begins, "—is hatred. From the commoners to the nobility, everypony around us is filled with spite towards us and our existence. Even our very servants flinch away from us, afraid of our fangs. All the world despises us. And how can we change all the world? We're just two ponies.

"When I was in Tartarus, my Lady, living my life as a demon, I had my fair share of enemies. Fellow demons who hated me for what I was; hated me for my power, my cunning, my speed. They saw me as a threat, much as the ponies on the surface do, too. They wanted me dead."

"So," Sunset says, running her tongue over her fangs, remembering the sulfur taste of demon blood, "—I killed them first.

"If all the world hates us, my Lady, I would burn it down and make a new one."

She sighs, softly, and fixes her gaze on the carpet, not daring to look up and see whatever expression might be on Lady Luna's face. "Of course, I'm no longer a demon anymore, aren't I? I can't just solve all my problems with fire and brimstone. If I burn down the world, my enemies will just keep coming. If they yet live, they will continue to hate me, whether demon or pony."

"You may live in a mortal form, my loyal servant, but it is evident that your hellfire continues to burn within you. You are still a demon, Sunset Shimmer. Are the ponies' opinions of you not evidence of that?"

"I suppose," she sighs. "No matter how far I try to flee, I can never escape the truth of my nature."

"Is that such a bad thing, Sunset?"

Sunset glances up at her, confused. Lady Luna's back is to her; she is halfway on the balcony, the glass doors wide open, staring out at a starlit Canterlot. "My Lady?"

"These ponies who hate you, they do not know you like I have. They have not seen you like I have. I am one of the few ponies that have witnessed you in your true form. I am one of the few you have targeted directly, through my subjects. Yet I have never held it against you, Sunset Shimmer. I see you for who you truly are; a monster like I am, lashing out because you saw no other option."

She makes a three-quarter turn, fixing Sunset beneath one sharp, cyan eye. Her gaze may be cold as ice, but it burns with the passion of a mind decided.

"All this land, Sunset Shimmer, is beneath my rule. For as long as my moon has hung in the sky, it has always been. Yet the ponies hide away from the beauty of their ruler; they do not love me the same way they love my sister. We are supposed to be equals, yet while she exults in their love I am merely the monster the ponies warn their children about at night. Is that right, my servant?"

"It's the way it's always been," Sunset replies, hesitant.

Her Lady laughs. "And have you always taken those petty words as an answer? Was that thought in your mind when you clawed your way up from Tartarus? Or are you hiding from what must truly be done?"

Is she hiding? Is she hesitant? Years ago, she would have never been. In her true form, she would have never been. A decade ago, she told Celestia that she fought the world for every scrap of good in her life because she believed there was no other way for her to have it. But with a smile and patience and the lighting of her horn, Celestia proved her wrong.

Celestia was there for her in the depths of those dungeons when nopony else was. Celestia was the one who waited outside her cell, day after day, hoping that she could teach that angry, lonely demon something new. Celestia was the one who met the monster who enslaved her subjects and met someone that could be good. Was Sunset going to throw all that away?

But also—Lady Luna's presence, a shadow against her night, her head wreathed by the outline of her moon as a halo. In the gentle light of her night sky, she seemed more ethereal than physical; an embodiment, rather than any living thing.

But also: Lady Luna's rage, trembling half-contained in her voice. The pain which that rage embodied; the loneliness that Sunset knew all too well.

Lady Luna had the batponies of the Night Guard beneath her wing because she could not trust the Day Guard to protect her. Lady Luna developed a spell all her own to transform her most loyal subjects into something more befitting of her night, so that she could keep them close by her side.

Princess Celestia had the whole of the daylight world beneath her wing. Any pony would be honored to be chosen as her servant, or as her guard.

Lady Luna had to make do with those few who saw her as she was; a beauty, not a terror. Lady Luna made do with the few ponies who did not shy away from the intensity of her gaze, nor her midnight-dark coat, nor her fangs. Often, those ponies were already outcasts; not to the level that Sunset herself was, but eccentrics. Midnight scholars and astronomers who studied the patterns of her constellations, who made it their life's work to trace the magic linked to such a thing. Lonely souls who felt more comfortable watched by owls and bats than other ponies. Ponies on the edges of society, just like her, just like Lady Luna herself.

Lady Luna collected outcasts. She took in those ponies who had nopony else to turn to; who were just as hated by the rest of the world as she was.

That was the thing that Celestia could never understand: Lady Luna loved where nopony else could. She was the one who would accept the downtrodden, the outcast, the monsters. She was the one who Celestia preached would love a monster when nopony else would, in the end. She was the pony who Celestia said to hope for.

They would love you in the end, Celestia claimed, if only you tried. She claimed you had to show them that you were not a threat; show them through your actions that you could be somebody to love.

But who would listen to such a thing?

Just Lady Luna. Only her Lady, who knew better than anypony else what a monster looked like.

Lady Luna knew. She knew better than Celestia the things that Celestia was trying to preach, the solutions that Celestia so naively hoofed out like they would work with just anypony. For a solar princess who saw so much, she was so stupidly blind to that fact. Offer yourself to the knife, Celestia claimed, they won't hurt you.

For there to be love, there could not be a knife at all. Lady Luna knew that. Lady Luna knew the reality of the world; Lady Luna knew why such things wouldn't work.

Stupid, naive, selfish; to preach these things to the sister who knew far better than her what those things actually meant, the cost one would have to pay, the rarity of selflessness. The rarity of love, for those it never came easily for.

And all this time, Celestia had been speaking to her like Lady Luna was the pessimistic one.

Sunset owed Celestia so much. Celestia taught her that the surface was not like the hell below, not at all; Celestia taught her that she did not have to claw and bite to be loved; Celestia taught her that she must always think her goals through before actually attempting to accomplish them, because otherwise they would lead to ruin and despair.

Well, this is Sunset thinking it through. This is Sunset thinking on everything she is and everything she's learned beneath the princesses' wings.

This is Sunset seeing the frostfire in her Lady's gaze and knowing that Celestia is wrong.

She was useful in the past, she supposes, and she will always be grateful for Celestia for what she's done. For giving her a path to the surface, a path to the life she lives now. Without Celestia, she would have never met Lady Luna; without Celestia, she would have never served beneath her Lady's wing.

But Celestia, too, is a thing of the past. Her opinions stuck naively in a golden age that belongs to her, she thinks everypony is capable of love, if only one tries.

My apologies, princess. You never meant it, but the pain you've caused has gone on for long enough.

Sunset Shimmer looks into her Lady's eyes, and she makes a choice.

Revenge is a thing best served cold, is it not? Lady Luna would know best; the cold is her domain, much like the night and the moon.

That is to say, although Sunset may have talked of burning the whole world down and replacing it with something new, something better, something that would love them—

—well, it's one thing to speak her anger and another thing to act on it in a way that won't end up with her thrown back into the dungeons of Tartarus.

In practice, the act of starting a better world for the two of them is a slow thing; done in the shadows, as Sunset and her Lady have always worked.

The act of starting a better world starts first with the batponies, who Sunset has interacted with in a vague sort of you-and-I-both-serve-the-same-mare way, but has never really gotten to speak with until now, in these dark days. But to have the world on her side—at least, enough that they do not dare flinch away from her in the streets—Lady Luna first needs to make sure of the loyalty of those she does have, and that is how Sunset begins to work with them.

She finds a surprising sort of kinship in the batponies. They are both keenly aware that she is not truly like them, merely some fiery thing bound into a mortal shape, but once she gets over her innate disdain for them and they get over the uncanniness she seems to cause in them, they fall into quite a pleasant working relationship. She is all fire and sharpness, a burning knife in her manipulation of the ponies they need to manipulate, those they need to render blind to the darkness growing in the Canterlot palace and those they simply need out of the way—but they have been Lady Luna's right wing far longer than she has, and Sunset is surprised to find that there are things she can learn from her Lady's fellow chosen.

Once she saw this form as a curse, as a shackle. Then she saw it as a vassal, the tool with which her Lady does her bidding.

It is only with the batponies that she begins to see it for the blessing it is.

It is under their teachings that she unlocks the thing she thought held back from her all those years; her ability to look through the windows of the mind and enslave the very soul.

It is not as powerful as it once was, when she was a fallen star of a thing which shredded wooden walls like scroll paper. But the batponies have had those in their ranks talented in the arts of enchantment before—bats and trickery, bats and hypnosis go wing-in-wing—and once they are willing to trust Sunset as an aide who wants the very same things they do, she learns a thing or two.

It is in this way that she helps the most towards the effort Lady Luna has started. Celestia may be blind to the pain of her subjects, but she is still a brilliant tactician and socialite, and with their work beginning to creep further and further through Canterlot like a virulent web it would be a given that somepony would eventually notice and bring it to their beloved solar princess' attention.

They would have noticed, if not for Sunset's interference. A look in the eyes here, a twist of the wing there, and their eyes glaze over with her cyan aura and they know no more. Ignorance is bliss, don't they say?

While all this happens beneath Celestia's notice, Lady Luna keeps up the act of a benevolent ruler. Perhaps even more benevolent than before; her temper once stretched thin ceases to be a thing, and she takes on an endless patience similar to Celestia. It is, after all, far easier to look some simpering noblepony in the eyes and politely tell him that perhaps come back tomorrow and he might get somewhere knowing full well of the conspiracy rotting the marble beneath his hooves. Sunset ends up adopting much the same attitude.

The servants even stop flinching from the two of them, which is a pleasant surprise. Once, Sunset is walking in the halls and a maid actually gives her a smile. Isn't that nice. Respect, once lost, is a thing not easily gained, but perhaps if that little maid groveled and begged enough she would deserve mercy from the very monsters she once found herself so disgusted with.

Imbeciles and fools, all of them. Sunset has put herself upon this path and she will not budge. The anger within her burns too brightly for her to snuff it out now.

Besides, they deserve it, don't they? For all the pain they've caused her. For all the pain they've caused Lady Luna, who she loves so.

So they keep up their pretty, smiling facades that Celestia would be so pleased with, and the conspiracy marches onward. In the darkness, they gather their strength. In the darkness, they spin their webs, gaining allies among those similarly discontent with Celestia's naive rule; the fact that she brushed off their concerns and their problems and their pain with blaise, naive answers instead of opening her eyes to the way things really were.

The words Celestia spoke the fateful day Sunset's opinion began to truly change still drift in her mind. If only you try…

Because trying solves everything, doesn't it? Thanks, Celestia: it's fixed.

Slowly but as surely as the moon will rise, Canterlot Palace becomes theirs.

In an conversation in the dead of night, Lady Luna mentions offhoofedly that in another time, perhaps she would have staged her coup in the Castle of the Two Sisters rather than the Canterlot Palace they now rein in. They visit there from time to time, Sunset knows; she has even gone there a few times herself, following in her Lady's shadow. But Canterlot Palace has become the new heart of their empire, the seat of both the sisters' power.

If Sunset was not there to aid her so, Lady Luna would have chosen the Castle of the Two Sisters from which to overthrow her sister. It was a smaller base of power, lesser-visited, lesser-frequented by servants. It would have been easier to hide the strings of her conspiracy with.

But Sunset is there, and Sunset has learned well, and Sunset bathes in her praise as Lady Luna tells her that she is the reason that they have been able to build the steps of this plan right beneath Celestia without her being yet the wiser.

That is, until Celestia does find out.

Sunset Shimmer bolts upright in her quarters with the call of Lady Luna's magic still resonating behind her ears.

Come! The magic calls without words. Now, Sunset Shimmer—it is urgent.

With the hairs of her coat on end she does what her Lady commands, barely bothering to leave her bed before she's wrapping herself in shadow and throwing herself to the beacon of her Lady's magic in a whisper.

She appears just behind Lady Luna in the great hallway leading up to the double doors of the throne room. From the position of the sun in the sky, it must be late evening; an hour or so before when Sunset usually wakes, after Celestia has lowered the sun. The time of day which she's named after, she remembers; though this is hardly a time for reminiscence.

"What is—?" Sunset begins, only to be silenced by a flare of her Lady's wing.

"I have been called by Celestia for a discussion. Considering the place she has decided upon for said discussion, I assume it is about the conspiracy which you and I have been weaving the strings of these last moons."

The words drop like shards of ice in her mind. A strange, ethereal kind of calm washes over her; an emotional chill from the tip of her muzzle to the very end of her tail.

So this is it, then. The old mare's finally noticed. No more hiding, no more plotting, no more waiting for the other horseshoe to drop. It is simply time for Lady Luna and Celestia to finally confront each other; it is simply time for the moon and the sun to finally meet, and see which one of them is consumed.

Lady Luna nods solemnly upon seeing Sunset's expression change. "Stay in the shadows, Sunset Shimmer. Do not allow yourself to be seen. I shall call upon you when the time is right."

What Lady Luna thinks Sunset can do against the very alicorn of the sun, she has no idea. But she nods her understanding well enough, and trails off to the side as Lady Luna's horn lights sapphire.

The double doors to the throne room open with the creak of the damned.

Above all else, Princess Celestia's voice has always sounded kind.

Even with her sister before her, her traitorous sister, knowing full well what she has been planning, her voice echoes through the throne room like a gentle dawn.

But it is the fact that Celestia dares to take the throne at all; that she looks down upon her sister rather than standing at her side, that marks that dawn with empty words.

"Dearest Luna," Celestia begins. "A noblepony came to me the other evening, saying the oddest things. He said that he sighted your batponies involved in an exchange with my Day Guard, passing a substantial amount of money to them. It is strange—surely your batponies have no business bribing my own guardsponies. Yet that is what it sounds like this noblepony witnessed!"

Lady Luna snorts. "Surely you are not inclined to believe the words of every noblepony who comes your way. They speak more lies than truth, sister."

"Furthermore," Celestia continues, and Sunset can't help a roll of her eyes. "I have been noticing some troubles with my Day Guard recently in general. Lost orders. Misspoken words. Supplies vanishing into thin air. Strange reports of slitted eyes in the dark; monsters beneath their beds.

"Now, Luna, I am sure this is all some… great misunderstanding. Surely this is a rogue group of your batponies that have been acting against your wishes? Or, if you do have some problem with the guardsponies beneath my rule, you could have always come to me. I am sure there is a way to sort this all out without having to resort to such terrible sabotage."

Briefly, there is silence. Lady Luna stands beneath Celestia's gaze as her sister stares down upon her from her position on the solar throne; the lunar throne beside her left empty. Celestia's gaze is as warm as it always is, pink eyes shining with a seeming inner light. How warm her expression looks, despite it all; the poor, naive mare, always willing to forgive. Always willing to pretend all this is just some mistake, even when they both know well how it's not.

How it must burn to be pinned beneath such a gaze.

Lady Luna does not break, does not falter. Her pause is only a momentary thing; Sunset can see the consideration in the line of her brow, the way she is so clearly—to her—thinking through her next move. To lie or not to lie. To keep up the facade, to test Celestia's tolerance, to see how far they might push this before her patience finally snaps.

"You know as well as I do that this was intentional, sister."

Celestia's expression changes like a cloud over the sun; she frowns, and Sunset feels so much like a foal beneath a disapproving mother that it makes her want to tear out of the shadows screaming. She did not claw her way out of Tartarus to be pitied.

"What would drive you to such lengths, Luna? In all the years I have known you, you have never acted like this towards me. Can we not trust each other? Could you not come to me to talk this through? What problems plague you so, my sister? Please, tell me. I am here for you."

"You are here, but you do not listen," Luna snarls. "All these years we have been together, and you have never noticed how your light outshines my own? That I am only a pitiful reflection of the love and respect you command among your ponies? Even my Night Guard's ranks are mere pittance compared to your own, that we are forced to resort to trickery and sabotage to stand a fair chance against them."

"I—I don't understand, Luna. Why would you do such a thing? Why are you speaking like you are commanding some kind of war?"

"You are not listening," Luna says, spitting every word through teeth that might as well be fanged for the viciousness in which she bares them. "Did I not just tell you? The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, my dear sister, and the shadow which I have been living in all my life has been the darkest by far. All my life, I have had to watch the populace clamoring for your attention, your love, your praise. You, always you they cried for. You, always you, they missed when your sun fell beneath the horizon.

"Are you truly so blind as to not see? All my life, I have spent being hated, while you have spent being loved. And when I take this problem to you, Celestia, or I try to act against the world which surrounds me with pitchforks and torches, what do you say? What pitiful advice do you have to give? Oh, if only I tried a little harder, the world would love me. Oh, if only I showed myself better beneath my night, if only I—I spread my wings and did a little dance for the masses—

"I have only been trying to help you, Luna—"

"You have never helped!" Luna cries, wings flaring with a desperate snap! to cut her sister off. "You suggest that I may show myself to the masses and they will see how wrong they were, but there are no masses for me to show! The ponies laugh and play in your day, dear sister, but oh, how they hide away from my night. How they fear it. I fly above our Canterlot's streets and those streets are empty. There is nopony there to see me in the brilliance of my night. There will be nopony.

"When our subjects come to look upon you, sister, they do so to bathe in your beauty. They think your presence a blessing. But when our subjects dare to look upon me, my dearest sister, they do it to gawk. I am—I am some exotic animal for them to wonder at the strangeness of, for them to—to gag at the ugliness of. How awful the shape of such a thing! How terrible its teeth, its horn, its night-dark wings!"

"Luna, I—" Celestia looks stricken, eyes wide. Did she truly not know the depth of her sister's pain? Did she truly never know?

"You told me to try, dear sister? Well, here I am, striving for what I deserve. Equestria has been built on my blood, my suffering. For too long I have been aiding it from the shadows, a thankless job with no gratitude. For too long I have only been seen as an omen, some dark stain on Equestria's rulership. You are their princess, their beloved, their source of love, and life, and joy. And I—I am simply Princess Luna.

"I say no more, sister," Lady Luna says. Slowly, yet surely, her horn begins to glow; it glows so intensely that it makes Sunset double-take, watching the subtle whorls of it light up with a power from deep within. What is she doing?

"From this moment forth, my night will last forever."

Darkness envelops the throne room. Sunset hears the sharp click-click of hooves on the stone, Celestia standing suddenly, but even in a slit-eyed body she can't see anything through the inky shadow that's poured in from every corner of the room. It feels like ice against her coat.

From within the dark, Sunset's slit eyes can pick out the barest sapphire light; it feels like a beacon against the all-consuming shadows.

Beyond, behind Lady Luna, she notices something else through the vaulted glass which takes up most of the throne room's walls: the moon is rising, though the sun has not quite set.

The moon is rising red, red as spilled blood, red as released anger; red as the harvest.

All at once, Sunset understands what Lady Luna's grand plan is to overthrow her sister. To overthrow Celestia, she must not have an empire to rule; to overthrow the sun, one must raise the moon.

Somewhere, she knows the batponies are cheering.

"Sister!" Celestia cries. "What are you doing?! I plead with you, stop this madness—" Her horn is fire against the shadow, but it is not enough to clear away the smoke; only enough to illuminate her pastel form like a beacon, her mane radiant as any sun even at the near-core of Lady Luna's outpour of dark magic.

"Madness? This is not madness!" Lady Luna cries, her voice the eye of her storm of swirling darkness. "Madness was listening to your insipid advice, tolerating it all this years despite how useless it was. Madness was waiting in your shadow while ponies laughed and played at your side, all the while being denied my birthright. My throne. My empire."

"Luna—" Oh, but Celestia sounds so desperate.

"I am not your Luna, dear sister. Not anymore."

The darkness clears in a rush of wind that sends Sunset's mane wildly askew, but she's not focused on that. Sunset is focused on the figure in the center of the room, placed exactly where Lady Luna was standing. Sunset is focused on this: her coat darker than midnight, darker than the eclipse. Her cyan eyes bright with madness, slitted with malice. The fangs she bares at the sister who has caused her so much pain over these years; every blunted tooth in her mouth has turned sharp, sharper than a bat's, sharklike or perhaps lamprey-like. Either way, made for blood in the water.

The double doors at the back of the throne room slam open. Neither Lady Luna nor her sister look, but Sunset does—with sharp eyes and a rush of adrenaline from the heart beating in her ears she spots two of the day guards that were positioned outside the room.

"By the sun—Princess Celestia? Princess Luna?!" one of them cries, and oh, how Sunset despises them. How dare they make a pretense of rushing to both the princesses' aids, knowing full well which one they're truly loyal to? They are Day Guard for a reason. They have never trusted Lady Luna, and they never will.

Or, except, she isn't Lady Luna now. No, the lady of the night raises her chin to look her dear, wayward sister in the eyes, bared teeth stretching wide into a grin, so every sharpened fang is on display.

"I am Nightmare Moon, and the only princess I am now is princess of your demise."

Princess Celestia does not seem frightened of the thing her sister has become, though Sunset wishes she was. No; she simply meets Nightmare Moon's gaze head-on (though it must pierce like deep frost), seeming to come to a conclusion in her mind.

She bows her head.

The motion is so ridiculous that Sunset Shimmer has to do a double-take. But it is nothing compared to the words which she speaks, eyes closed so peacefully you could almost believe she wasn't actively being overthrown—

"I will not fight you, Luna. You know you are better than this."

"How naive. You have thought wrong, sister."

The guards behind her have had enough. Sunset sees them raise their spears, something grim in their expressions—her wings flare wide and she tenses, preparing to burst out of the shadows to meet them. Nopony will lay a hoof on her Lady's coat if she does not permit it—

—but before she can pounce, Nightmare Moon flicks her horn towards her with a toss of her head, and a burst of dark magic leaps from Nightmare Moon's body to hers.

It is so sudden. One moment, she is a mere creature of the night, constrained by shadowy leather and fur; the next, she is fire and brimstone, and she is burning from the inside.

Her Lady has released the enchantment upon her, the spell which kept her bound; and consequently, her magic. She realizes this in a rush of power so heady it makes her dizzy with it—she is claws, and fangs, and a two-legged form, and instead of being just below height with the guards she was about to leap upon she towers at the height of an alicorn.

Her wings snap wide and her magic flares with it; one moment she is nothing and the next she is everything, a lava burst taking hold of the ponies' souls like dolls and twisting.

The guards which were bravely charging at the princess they never did serve skid to a terrible stop. Their eyes stare blankly a thousand yards past both alicorns, filmed over in hazy teal.

Sunset Shimmer throws her head back and laughs.

"Oh, Sunset." Celestia says, softly; that seems to be the only thing she can do in the face of her and her Lady's true and terrible might. Comment upon what has happened to her and bow like a pathetic thing. Pathetic, weak, and naive. Even now she believes in the better nature of creatures which have none. Even now she hopes for a better ending that she will not have. "I should have known you would follow Luna in this."

"Of course I did," Sunset spits, wings spread wide behind her as she floats over to her rightful place at her Lady's side. "She's the only one who can get anything done around here. She's the only one who understands. How many times have I had the same petty, pathetic arguments with you, spinning around and around in circles while you never understand what I really meant? Even in the dungeons where we met, you were always so naive. The ponies will love me in the end, you said. There is a place for you among them, you said. Ten years under your wing and where did that get me? A life of hiding myself away in the palace, or else the ponies would come after me with pitchforks and torches."

"I never lied to you, Sunset," Celestia says. "I believe every word I ever say to you. There can be a better existence than this, a better life—for the both of you. You must turn back. There is another way than darkness and hate—a better way!"

"I know you believe it." Sunset scoffs. "You've always believed it. You've always believed in the better nature of ponies who don't deserve it. Why should I have to tolerate those that will never love me and never will? Meet hatred with love, you say—what a stupid idea. Was I supposed to love the demons trying to kill me in Tartarus? Am I supposed to love the maid who flinches away from my gaze; the noblepony who looks upon me as less than a rat?"

Sunset's saying a lot of things, and Tartarus, she believes them, too. She believes them with a passion and a fire that rages. But in the back of her mind, she's doing something else; pushing power towards the ponies whose minds she'd touched in batpony form before, re-establishing that connection with the raw power of a true demon. In particular she focuses on the guardsponies she'd helped hoodwink… those very guards who are walking the halls of the Canterlot palace as they speak, armaments ready for the taking.

"You believed in those things, Celestia," Sunset says. "But look at you now. Pathetic and powerless beneath the light of my Lady's moon! This is what happens when you open your heart to the ponies that hate you, princess. You get a dagger in the back."

"Be this as it may," Celestia replies, "—I still will not fight you. Either of you. No matter how far things go, Luna, you can still lower the moon! No matter how alone, how hurt you feel in this world, Sunset, you can still use your powers for good. I'm offering you the chance to prove it. I'm offering you the chance to fix things."

"At least you're trying to do one thing right, Celestia," Sunset says, reclining back from where she's floating in the air to examine her pointed nails. "Playing me against her? If I were anybody else, it might just have worked."

But she owes Nightmare Moon her very life. Tartarus, she owes Nightmare Moon the very form she walks in now! In the hour of her ascension, her Lady has chosen to free her, to release her into her true and most beautiful form, and she is so very grateful for it.

"Loyalty can be a fleeting thing, Celestia. Even now, your very guards turn against you."

Sunset throws a hand to the double doors of the throne room. They open again not with a sudden bang, but with a slow creak, as a full phalanx of golden-armored Day Guard march into the room, hooves in perfect lockstep sync.

"But I? I will always be faithful to my moon."

She takes another glance at the Day Guard flooding the room, their pristine coats white with the color charm etched into their armor. It is a color that fits them, Sunset thinks; white like Celestia's coat, yes, but also white like the stars glittering in the night sky above them, white like her Lady's titanium moon.

"I think their armor could use a change when we're done with your idiot of a sister, my Lady," Sunset says off-handedly. "How does silver sound?"

Even in a form so dark the light can hardly touch it, starlight mane flooding around her with power and fangs as sharp as moonlight, her Lady still smiles the same. "That, my most loyal servant, sounds like a most wonderful idea.

"But do not get ahead of yourself, Sunset Shimmer. We must deal with my poor, stupid, naive sister in the first place! Do not worry, Celestia. I will make it quick."

"I will not fight you," Celestia says. "This is your last chance to turn away. Please, I beg of you!"

"Enough. I tire of your pleading." Her horn lights.

The sapphire ray she casts is swift, sharp, and final.

Or at least, it should have been—but Celestia, for all her talk, is not the kind of pony to take her own defeat lying down.

As soon as Nightmare Moon's horn lights, she takes off in a flurry of alabaster feathers, wings beating hard to lift her from the floor in ascension. Sunset bares her teeth in a snarl but hangs back; this is her Lady's fight, and it is one she will win in the end, she is certain of that. She is simply here to watch.

Celestia's horn lights in a fiery crescendo that blasts a section of the palace roof off, exposing it to open sky, Nightmare Moon's stars surrounded by a blood-red dark. It looks beautiful—

—and Nightmare Moon looks even more beautiful against it as she launches herself after her fleeing sister with a snarl, casting another bolt of magic so charged that Sunset tastes ozone on her teeth.

Celestia is, unfortunately, nothing but elegant in her grace as she dodges this shot too, curving around it with a flare of her wings that makes her seem swanlike against the night.

Sunset tosses her head and flies after the two, twitching the strings of her magic to call the pegasi in her little fleet after her as well. Nightmare Moon will hardly need the assistance, but—still. She has always been a planner, and it has never hurt to be prepared.

If one wasn't paying close attention, the bob and weave of the princesses' flight through the sky would seem more a dance than a fight. They have always been beautiful in that way; it is a shame, Sunset thinks, that Celestia will need to be cut down like this. Surely Nightmare Moon has a plan for her, of course she does, even at her lowest she has always loathed outright murder. But it will be a shame to see her fall from the sky, in the end.

Oh, well. What must be done must be done, and she will admit to a thrill lancing down her spine at the sight of a shot from Nightmare Moon that just barely misses, scorching some hairs off of Celestia's coat. The black mark is stark against the white of it; she's never seen Celestia so stained before.

There are ponies in the streets beneath them. She can hear their gasps every time Nightmare Moon fires another bolt of magic off at her wayward sister; catches them them shivering in the night cold that merely glances over her; sees their colorful coats so bright against the cobbles, even now. They have come in fleets, even though the moon darkens the sky with her bloody gaze.

Of course they would. Of course, because Celestia is out, and even fleeting and burned she has always attracted far more attention than her Lady ever could.

Well? They better be watching now. All of them. This night is the night of her Lady's ascension, and she will be there to ensure it.

With a spiteful flick of her finger, she directs the Day Guard following her to sweep low over the crowd, their feathers practically skimming the heads of the ponies gathered. There are gasps and cries in response—one pony calls out The guard! The Day Guard are here! and she can't help but laugh. Poor fools, thinking these ponies belong to anyone but her.

If she had the time, she would lash her magic to them, too; claim their souls, claim their power as her own, claim their loyalty for Nightmare Moon's new throne. But there is no time, and the sisters have always been strikingly fast on the wing—even spinning through the sky in their weaving, dodging maneuvers, it is all Sunset can do to keep up.

If the little ponies in the streets are beneath her, then even in demon form Sunset is so very beneath the alicorns streaking the sky with auroric light, the very measure of their speed bleeding off their wings like light through a prism. Celestia would be the one to worry about collateral damage; Nightmare Moon cares for no such thing, and the missed shots that do not streak off into the night sky instead burn themselves into the Canterlot streets below, causing gathered, gawking ponies to scatter in fright.

Sunset takes delight in watching them flee, but most of her attention is focused on following the battle between the two sisters—if it could be called that. Not once has she watched Celestia fire off a single beam of magic in retaliation, although Sunset's sure she could burn. No, her wings spread wide and she dances among the night and it is only Nightmare Moon that tries to entrap her; growing more desperate to finally strike down this irritance as Celestia continues her masterful dance across the sky, leading them further across the city.

Beneath them, the streets turn to charred slag in the wake of Nightmare Moon's terrible magic; the same shadow that transformed her in the throne room has begun to streak off her wings, dripping and drifting onto Canterlot below, engulfing its signature golds and purples in stifling, stygian black.

Sunset can hear screaming from the commoners below. The sound drives her further after the sisters, determined; her wings are tiring and she is not built to fly at these speeds for so long, but she pushes onward anyway, because she will be damned if she lets her Lady out of her sight. The Day Guard following her have long since been lost in the smoky shadow Nightmare Moon is pulling tight over the city like a veil, twisting the cobbles to blackened slag and Tartarus knows what else—but she can still feel the strings of their souls attached to her, so she doesn't worry about it too much.

Onwards and further, Celestia growing ever more elusive; but even an alicorn must tire eventually. They are not sleepless, perfect beings. Sunset knows this. Sunset knows she must land at some point, but where is she leading them?

In the wake of Nightmare Moon's consuming darkness, Sunset almost misses Celestia diving down into the streets of Canterlot below. Almost, but she is sharp, and she is loyal, and she dives as well, welcoming the shadows that cloud her like ink as soon as she deigns to land. She does not fear any darkness from her Lady.

She does, however, spark her magic, lighting a small fire to her hand to let her see at least a little of the world around her. It is hardly more than an arms-length; the darkness lingers on her tongue and she knows that if she were a pony, she would be having a desperate time breathing in this all-consuming gloom. It is hostile, coiling, and cold, filled with the anger which Nightmare Moon has been bottling up for so very, very long. The grudge of an alicorn.

But there is no night without its light; there is no Sunset without her Lady, and it is not long before she catches a familiar spark of blue in the haze. With it, a familiar call, sung magically in the back of her mind instead of with any living tune—come, Sunset.

Celestia's day is not yet over. They must silence this dawn, once and for all; that is the thought that pulls her closer, loyal to her Lady's command with every breath in her body.

In the dim flicker of the cyan flame cupped in her hand, the building they've landed at seems to be some kind of vault. It's not one Sunset has seen herself, but it must be important in some way, if Celestia was willing to fly half the city to land here. The purple double doors, trimmed with gold, have already been flung wide; her steps are soft on the long carpet leading through the entrance hall, empty save for huge engraved pillars on either side of her, monoliths towering over even a demon like her.

The doors at the very end are marked with the royal symbol of the two sisters, an alicorn with her head bowed. Sunset sneers at it for a moment—it is supposed to represent unity, but what an empty symbol it really is. Then she remembers herself, and pushes these doors open as well.

The gleam of Celestia's horn is like a roaring blaze compared to the all-consuming darkness that Nightmare Moon has left in her wake. It is apparently with her power alone that she is keeping this room free of her sister's influence; it is a vault of some kind, clearly, from the make of it, luxurious but not ornate in the way the prior rooms were.

But Sunset does not realize what this vault is meant to exactly contain until Nightmare Moon lets out a shrieking laugh.

"The Elements of Harmony, dear sister? Is this what you have chosen to defend yourself with?"

The Elements of Harmony. Of course, Sunset has heard of them. She'd have to be deaf and blind not to know what the Elements of Harmony were, living in close proximity with both of their bearers. The Elements were used to defeat Discord and return all the world to normal, years before she ever clawed her way out of Tartarus. She knew they were somewhere in Canterlot, the sisters' weapon in case something like Discord ever threatened Equestria again, but she was never told the exact location of the vault.

She believes in their power, though she doubts anything as petty as friendship truly powers the Elements. The sisters would not believe in such a weapon on a mere whim. She knows they have used them before, and she knows how powerful they truly must be to defeat the kind of beast that could reshape reality on a whim, but—

—really? Relying on the Elements like this?

She can see the entire array the Elements are stored in, now; an open trapdoor in the carpet behind Celestia suggests she pulled them up from their secret chamber while Sunset was busy finding her way through the darkness. It's quite an elaborate structure, something like an astrolabe or a model of a solar system. Five of the gems glitter on their pedestals where they stand; the sixth (isn't there supposed to be a sixth?) is nowhere to be found.

"You have given me no choice, Luna," Celestia says, wings flared in defensive position.

"Please," Nightmare Moon says, with a toss of her head. "You and I know full well how the Elements of Harmony work. And you and I know full well that you cannot utilize the Elements against a fellow bearer. The magic will not take. You are hopeless."

"Dear Luna," Celestia says. "You will always be my sister. No matter what you are, or who you are, I will always, always love you. But you are not the Luna who wielded those Elements so long ago. The very power of Harmony will not stand for the eternal night you are trying to create. Look at all the destruction you have already wrought, Luna. You have cloaked our city in a terrible, choking miasma of darkness. Can you truly not see it?"

"The ponies who live in these city streets are disloyal dogs, not worthy of my mercy," Nightmare Moon says, tilting her head back. Her slitted eyes are as cold as her moon as she regards Celestia. "When I am done with you, I will take Equestria and reshape it into something which suits me. Then we shall see if there are any left who are worthy of being my subjects."

"That is what I thought you'd say," Celestia says. Her magic reaches out for the Elements behind her, enveloping each gem in a golden glow. "I tried my best, my sister. I am so very sorry."

Nightmare Moon's lips tick into a snarl. Wrapped loose in gold and glitter, the Elements drift off their plinths and begin to resolve slowly around Celestia's body, fancy as a carousel.

That's all they should be: fancy tricks. That's all the Elements are against another bearer, little more than shiny stones; Sunset trusts her Lady's knowledge on this matter. It is this that makes Sunset simply float there and watch as the Elements revolve around Celestia, faster and faster; it is this that makes her tilt her head and frown a little, almost pitying the mare who is clearly putting her every hope into this.

Oh, well. At least she won't be so misguided for much longer. Beside her, Nightmare Moon is charging a magic of her own—and unlike those pretty little rocks which Celestia is spinning into formation, her Lady's magic has power. She can practically taste it on her tongue, more sensitive in true form to these things. And even if she wasn't, well—it's obvious in the whorls that have begun to glow upon Nightmare Moon's horn, not sapphire but a pure, powerful moon white, the magic so strong the light leaks through her before the spell has even cast. It is a spell that tastes like a distant, banished dawn, sent glittering below the horizon, and Sunset realizes exactly what Nightmare Moon is planning to do.

She wonders how Celestia will enjoy the domain of her own sun, with nopony left to adore her. It seems a fitting fate.

Something is ringing in Sunset's ears, though. A subtle tune somehow both like the chiming of bells and being stuck six feet underwater; she uncrosses her arms and stretches her talons wide, suddenly all on the alert. This feels powerful, this sensation that has begun to blanket her skin; a power that she's never tasted before; a power that tastes, somehow, like bittersweet love.

There is a sixth gem hovering in front of Celestia, star-pointed and pink. Lashes of power have begun to form, colored beams leaping from stone to stone—the Elements revolving too quickly around Celestia for Sunset to see, a ring of glowing power and oh.

No. This isn't supposed to end like this. They did everything right, the two of them—she served her Lady as faithfully and as cunning as she could, after clawing her way up from Tartarus all these years ago and this was supposed to be her reward! Her better life, her Lady's beautiful domain to rule as she pleased—they were finally going to be respected, they were finally going to be loved, they were finally going to be free!—

The Elements fire, and she is falling.

Canterlot is ruined.

Celestia salvages what she can from the palace, but it is difficult work; more difficult, still, with the absence of a sister by her side. Her form still gazes down upon her from her moon; if she stares up for long enough at the craters, she can imagine she is still snarling.

The dark magic which Nightmare Moon unleashed upon the city is a plague that cannot be cured. If anything, it spreads; vicious and cutting in its nature, those ponies who linger within it too long end up… different. End up changed, twisted into beasts. Luna may have been sealed in her moon, but, oh, the damage stays like a scar unhealing.

She has not ruled from the Castle of the Two Sisters proper in a very long time. But the Everfree Forest is a lovely place, unspoiled by pony eye nor hoof, surprisingly welcoming despite that; she has left strict orders for the burgeoning settlement nearby to leave it unspoiled as best they can. It's mostly earth ponies, a stark difference from the unicorn nobility she has been used to for much of her life. They'll listen, she hopes.

She does not know Sunset's fate. The last she saw of the demon was a wide-eyed desperation, a kind of cornered animal instinct shining in her eyes that continues to haunt her dreams. It was the same animal instinct she saw in her snarl, in her claws in those first days down in the dungeons; it was that animal instinct that drove her to try and save this damaged soul, to try to teach her kindness in a life so clearly short of it.

She had done her best, but it was not enough, and she has to live with it.

Luna was banished to her moon, the place she resonated with the most. She thinks of Sunset, thinks of her fire and brimstone, the smell of sulfur that always rose off of her in her worst, most angry moments, and has a terrible feeling about where the Elements chose to banish her.

She wonders if either of them will ever be able to forgive her.

Lowly In Spirit Among the Humble

"Granny Apple thought Luna's royal servant was a demon?"

"Ridiculous, ain't it?" Applejack says, looking just a touch amused. "That's why I ended up thinkin' the whole thing about a second sister was hogwash, too. I mean, an alicorn of the night who went and turned evil, who had a demon as her servant? Forget about it."

She shrugs. "Then again, Luna's right here in the Crystal Empire with us, ain't she? I dunno. I think her servant bein' a demon is a mite superstitious, but there had to be somethin' to her to get ponies like my Granny believin' in it. She usually has her head screwed on pretty tight."

"I don't know…" Twilight says, rubbing her hoof on the crystalline table. "You're right, it does sound strange. But so does us bearing Elements of Harmony, right? I bet you never expected that before you met me."

Applejack huffs. "Sure didn't. I dunno, Twi… I mean, I don't know much about demons, but ain't they all supposed to be locked up in Tartarus?"

"I guess," Twilight says. "It's not like anypony's ever broken out of Tartarus, anyway. It's supposed to be impossible! But every story has to come from somewhere, you know?"

She sighs. "Ugh… I bet I'd be able to think about this better if I wasn't so tired from the trip."

"It's a mighty long ride from Equestria's capital to the Crystal Empire, ain't it? You should tuck in early, Twi. Get your rest for the summit tomorrow," Applejack says.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Twilight says, rubbing at her eyes. She can't help but let a yawn slip by her as she closes her eyes. "Thanks for talking with me about Canterlot's history, Applejack, that was really fascinating."

"Anytime, Twi. Now get yourself into bed before I get Spike to drag you there himself," she says, standing.

"Okay, okay, I'm going!"

The thought of Luna's servant swirls at the back of Twilight's mind for a while, but not for long. As fascinating as the topic is, she has so many other things to worry about. Like the crown sitting on her nightstand, its pink jewel glittering so innocently in the little crack of light that shines through her bedroom door.

What is she supposed to do with it? Protecting Equestria is one thing; she can do that. As long as she has her friends by her side, she knows she can keep Equestria safe. But leading within it? Oh, Celestia, she hopes she doesn't have to take too many royal duties on in addition to her usual schedule. Her list is packed enough as is; how is she going to fit things like dress-fitting and ruling over whatever part of Equestria Celestia sees fit for her to give her in with sorting books at the library and going out for tea with Rarity?

Sleep comes uneasily to her. Her wings seem to twist and shift of their own accord, unfamiliar motions. She's studied half a dozen books on pegasus anatomy, but that doesn't tell her anything about alicorn wings, does it? And even then, the sparse knowledge the books give her don't hold a flame to the fact that she has new limbs. On her body. And it is so difficult to tuck them in beneath her sheets—how do the other princesses deal with it?! Cadence was lucky to be born a pegasus. She can't imagine getting used to a horn would be any harder than this.

Sleep comes uneasily to her, but eventually, it comes. She dreams softly of crystals and princessly duties, becoming the ruler of books and trying not to spill any tea on the pages.

Sleep comes uneasily to her, and it is broken with a shout—Spike's shout. She blinks blearily as she shifts upright, wondering what Spike is yelling about that's so important when she was nice and cozy under her warm blankets—

—there is a figure standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

There is a figure standing in the doorway of her bedroom, and it is not anypony she recognizes, a shadow in a cloak. They have a saddlebag at their hip and in that saddlebag is—

—That's her crown!

"Thief!" she shrieks, the word on her mouth before she's even done getting out of bed, horn sparking indignantly.

The cloaked figure bolts down the hallway at rapid speeds, hooves clicking on the stone, and Twilight's right behind, yelling as loudly as she can as she follows them in hot pursuit. Her friends wake at all the racket, double doors creaking open in the hallway, but she barely has eyes for them—all of her attention is singularly on the pony shooting down the halls, her cape billowing in the wind.

The thief turns a corner, but Twilight knows these hallways—knows enough to perform a teleport, air displacing in a crackle and a flash of light as in a moment she's in front of the charging pony.

"Stop!" she shrieks, angling her body to block the hall.

The pony does not stop. If anything, she speeds up. Her cloak shifts strangely and then there are leathery wings—bat wings?!—flaring out from her sides. The dim light of the hallway coalesces between her and the thief, the tiny shadows in the corners creeping wide and dark and solemn.

The batpony motions strangely with her wings with a twist, and Twilight feels an ice-cold chill of unfamiliar magic rush over her coat as where the pony was she is suddenly not there anymore.

Twilight spins, eyes wide.

It's a rare occasion that Twilight gets to see a batpony in the flesh. Usually they're pulling Luna's carriage, or otherwise guarding her; the Night Guard are Luna's chosen, that much she knows, their ranks finally rebuilding after their commander spent so long banished to the moon. They don't tend to live among the other pony tribes, their nocturnal nature and sometimes-odd diets make that difficult for them.

And no batpony she's ever seen has had a coat like that, dried-blood red; no batpony she's ever seen has had a two-toned mane like fire cascading over her head and back; no batpony she's ever seen has had eyes like hers, that vivid, that sharp, with the subtlest fiery glow in the dimly lit halls.

She smells like sulfur and she smiles like the damned, one fang poking out from her mouth before she's racing back down the hall again and Twilight moves frantically to stop her.

Twilight gets within a bit's-length of her and lunges, impacting hard with her; they go tumbling into the room at the end of the hallway with a desperate crash, flinging the double doors open and sending the crown tucked in the thief's saddlebags flying.

The crown bounces sharply off of one of the dusty display cases in the room and goes flying through a mirror set at a plinth at the very end.

The rest of Twilight's friends are right behind her, crowding the entrance to the room, but all Twilight can think about with a sharp gasp is that her crown just went through what is very obviously a portal, and what in Equestria, and—

"What did you do with my crown?!" she exclaims.

If the batpony was strange to look at from afar, she's even stranger up close; when she looks Twilight in the eyes she can see that the cyan glow around their slits was not an illusion, and in fact she can see small flames dancing deep in their irises. She grins wide, putting all her teeth on display, wicked fangs and all.

"Sorry it had to be this way—" the batpony says. Twilight's nose is filled with the smell of something burning and that's all the warning she gets before the batpony quite literally melts into shadow, slipping through her grasp until she's just a dark stain on the floor.

Twilight whips around to see the batpony behind her, standing on the plinth to the portal, her legs bowed half in a sarcastic curtsey. "—princess. But my Lady will rule again."

Left reeling by that statement, Twilight can only watch in stunned silence as the batpony leaps through the mirror and vanishes, with only the faintest gleaming ripple to suggest she was even there.

Author's Note

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading through my fic! Please feel free to point out any typos in the comments; as much as I and my beta readers have tried to proofread this, some things just slip through the cracks. :P