On wishes unfilled.

by jnzsblzs

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Clover the Clever, Princess Celestia, Death, Sad, Nightmare Moon, Drama
Length: 6392

A Hearth's Warming Eve that Celestia and Nightmare Moon both want to forget. Everyone else simply has to.

Nightmare Moon has been banished to the moon. Roaming the accursed landscape she meets someone she never thought she would see there, giving her an offer that she would have never thought was possible to make.

But what are her motives, what does she want, could that they're wanting, really be one?

Written for dart157 for Jinglemas 2023

I wish them a very merry Christmas. I hope they find my story to their liking.

Well alright, acknowledgement time: Really it's just Mr Shakespearicles for both putting this contest up, and giving me a helping hand in editing the story, I grateful for both even if he has reason to doubt the latter.

Published 2023-12-26 00:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-12-26 00:40:00 UTC

On betrayal and redemption

Rocks. Rocks and desolation, as far as the eyes could see. The insolence. Degrading her beautiful Moon into a glorified prison cell. Even in her self-congratulatory mercy, her sister couldn’t stand the urge to mock her. Her, the rightful Queen of the Night and all of Equestria. For a year and a half, she roamed that accursed landscape prodding for a way out, looking for something, anything she could leverage for her escape. Her faithful companions, the stars above, might eventually have proved to be the solution, but...

“Hello, Luna!”

That voice, the one constant in both her dreams and nightmares, came from just behind her. With a defiant shriek, she turned around and shot a stream of energy at the source of the voice. While her aim, as always, was true, her magic simply phased through the phantasm her sister had conjured to convene with her.

“What a way to make a royal buffoon of yourself, Luna,” she said in her ever-condescending tone. Though at least now she didn’t bother to drape it in a cushy layer of false cordiality.

“Who… what are you?” she seethed.

“A projection. A dream in a slightly distorted sense of the word. At least Clover told me, he used Starswirl's notes on your magic to create this one,” Celestia answered in a rather uninterested tone. She never could appreciate the beauty of the dreamscape or the magic associated with it.

“Serves you well not to see your undoing on their terms,” she said. She smiled cockily. “Delay it however you want, but our revenge is as inexorable as the night after the day.”

“As is the day after the night.” Celestia sighed and rolled her eyes. “And the better tomorrow. No matter how many tantrums you throw, you cannot fight the will of the ponies, and what they want is a better life. You were in the way, and, thus, you were removed. My involvement, intentional or not, was merely a byproduct.”

She started to circle around Celestia like a sadistic predator toying with her prey. “You purport yourself to be the arbiter of light, and yet, it is the eyes of darkness that see that sometimes the hand of fate must be forced!”

“And what a great job of that you must be doing.” The phantasm of her sister sat, unwilling to follow her with her head, and started to clap. Slowly. The lack of sound made by the incorporeal hooves made it all the more insulting. “Jailed into the very source of your power, being dragged to and fro by a sister you can’t even acknowledge as an equal, let alone face the actual reality.”

She walked up to Celestia close enough she could have kissed her cheeks, if she had been there, and started to whisper. “Facing reality? You’re just hiding behind stones and magic as you always do when you face us. Our true self.”

That did the trick. Her sister let out an exasperated sigh and shuffled over to have enough space to look into her eyes. Though it didn’t look like much, she knew that, compared to dignified indifference, it was an admission of equality, thus defeat. After a few moments of pregnant silence, her sister spoke up again.

“You know, Luna, I never could understand you.”

“Obviously, otherwise we wouldn’t be here,” she quipped arrogantly; it was a rare sight to not see her sister in control.

“…You claim ponies don’t care about your night, but, every year, on this night, the longest night of the year, they hold their most sacred holyday. The Hearth's Warming Eve.”

Her sister definitely preemptively planned to bring that up she didn’t exactly know why, it never hurt to throw a wrench in whatever she was scheming.

“You sure did a thorough job at brainwashing our little ponies, dear sister. As well as yourself, apparently. Even what you claim as the one occasion to be the shining example of ponies appreciating the beauty of our nights is but a thinly veiled mockery of our very being."

“How so?”

“It is not the night they celebrate; it is the light of the Hearth. The longest night? It’s but a symbol of your very maxim, how night fades every time. It is not a darkness they appreciate; its end is what they celebrate.”

“That’s some imaginative chicanery, sister.”

“Tell me it’s wrong!” she said with a snarl.

“It’s wrong.”

“One day…” She started to light her horn to unleash her unbridled rage at this illusion of her sister, not that she was anything more in the flesh, and she saw it. That smile.

The Princess of Sunshine could always smile indefinitely—it was her biggest talent—but growing up with her, the queen’s old self learnt to differentiate between the infinite veneers of mirth, and this one? This one was for her. That simple, almost neutral complexion, betrayed only by the corners of her mouth as they teetered ever so slightly upwards and her gaze as she silently laughed at her poor hapless sister desperately trying to squirm from her grasp of either wits or wizardry.

No. She would not play into her hooves again. She had done it enough times already. Prison or not, it was her domain, and her sister had come there to signal exactly one thing. She needed her. As for what? That was unimportant.

So she just sat down, grabbed a hoofful of stones, and lazily started to chuck them at the mirage’s head.

It took a couple of stones, but, finally, she reached her goal. Celestia spoke up. Much annoyed.

“You do realise it’s literally pointless to do this?”

“Oh, do we beg to differ.” She punctuated her point with another rock.

“Can’t you just stop, Luna? It’s really juvenile.”

“It is well within our capabilities to stop, yes,” she said while she promptly displayed the exact opposite of the proclaimed skill set. Seeing how Celestia didn’t yet cease to look for something she could use as leverage in their situation, she continued the lazy rhythm as she grabbed pebbles and comfortably chucked them at the now sole Usurper of Ponykind.

“So, is this your plan?” Celestia asked her after a couple more stones.

“Only until we run out of rocks.” She theatrically looked around, basking in Celestia’s politely seething anger, looking at the myriad of little pebbles around her.

“You really are as insufferable as I remember.”

“And yet, here you are,” she said promptly while she took her sweet time as she chose her next pebble.

“If you want to blame me for still not giving up hope on you, then, by all means, proceed.”

“So, the reason, the sole reason you’re here is because you hope to bring us home.”

“The primary reason.”

“You are lying, but much like you always do, you firmly believe your lies,” she said. She shook her head with a grin of disbelief on her face. “However, if we posit that you believe that you want us out of your prison, it does raise the question: what is the role you want us to play? Is that patchwork serpent free again? Unlikely, the elements would stop even a being such as him… Your lover’s reflection? No, I would have spotted the empire coming back even from here. The necrophiliac goat?”

“Stop,” Celestia said with an amusingly silent stomp of her hoof. “I do not require your aid in safeguarding my little ponies. Nor can I offer you anything on your return apart from your old titles and duties back. Even if I know you long to return to your rightful realm, I know it’s not enough.”

“Among your many crimes, severing me from the dreamscape was by far the vilest,” she agreed.

“I did it neither intentionally nor consciously, though I do shudder to imagine the damage you would have wrought upon Equestria had you been allowed to interfere with the most intimate, vulnerable thoughts of my little ponies.”

“Pathetic.” She tried to cram all her disdain into that single word. “Here you are, my jailor, rattling my cage, jeering at me from the safe outside, and, yet, the mere thought of a sliver of my power overflowing my cell would send you cowering under your bed.”

“Normally, the jailor is supposed to have the keys,” Celestia said quietly. For a second, she almost looked vulnerable.

“And you have the Elem…” A sudden realisation choked the words out of her throat and twisted her mouth into a toothy grin. “They don’t work…” It suddenly made so much sense. Obviously, the Elements couldn’t have worked for her sister. “Yeah, after all it turned out, that little miss perfect is a little Mis-Harmony.”

“There are like three different grammatical mistakes in that pun,” Celestia acknowledged with an exasperated sigh. “But, yes, when I had to battle you, I prayed that the Elements would listen to my plea and help me protect my little ponies before the powers we were to unleash ravaged the world in ways that could not be undone."

Celestia looked up to Equestria above them, but, in her eyes, the queen saw she was not looking at the planet, but the star behind it.

“It happened once,” Celestia spoke up again, softly. “Once more than it happened to any singular wielder. I’m both thankful for and content with that.”

“So, you can’t get us out. In that case, why are you wasting our time? And, most importantly, why are you wasting yours?” Of all the things she could and would accuse Celestia of, inefficiency was not one of them.

“I can’t get you out, that much is true, but there are two ponies here who are quite adept at using the Elements, and maybe together they could manage to figure something out.” Though the cheeky, encouraging smile on Celestia’s face looked honest, she knew better than to believe her.

It didn’t take long to realise where the catch was in the proposal.

“Of course, you having physical possession of the elements means that our breakout can only happen on your terms.” She didn’t even bother to lift up her hooves, she just chucked a stone at the phantasm with her magic. ”Giving us the illusion of choice, with both options leading to a different version of your trap. How fitting for the dictator who never dictates.”

“Actually, if that was all my safeguards, I wouldn’t venture here, but you’ve always been completely incapable of subtlety, so there is zero chance you can lead me on with some sort of ‘fake reformation’”

“Says the pony who didn’t take note of the journey where we found ourself.” She hoped the fake, pretentious courteousness in her voice sounded at least half as annoying as Celestia’s own, but she wouldn’t delude herself with illusions that she could even come close to her sister in that particular artform.

“That’s different.” Celestia sighed. “And it’s different because I screwed up. For which I apologise. I didn’t notice your troubles because I didn’t pay attention.”

“Not that we were there, but we seem to recall there was a lot of shouting involved, very clearly explaining what the problem was.”

“If you don’t think I get shouted at on a regular basis, I don’t know what you think my job is,” she said raising her right eyebrow. “I habitually ignore ponies’ hurt feelings; I like to think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Saying that to the summation of your failure. Interesting.” If she had a cup of tea, she would have taken a short and polite sip.

“One out of thousands is hardly a horrible record.” And for the millionth time, she realised why it was foolish to challenge Celestia to even an imaginary tea-off.

She took a deep breath. The whole conversation made no sense. Celestia was an expert at verbal sparring, but what actually made her an unbeatable conversationalist was her ability to control the dialogue. That time, however, the whole conversation meandered, aimlessly getting from one place to the next. It was surreal, almost as if it were a dream. Without even realising it, she threw another stone at the phantasm. It went through, which confirmed she was not dreaming, because dreams were notoriously bad at keeping internal consistency. Not like she didn’t have 25 other ways to know if it weren’t a dream, but it just felt therapeutic to chuck things at Celestia.

“So… let us get this clear. You had no doubt about sending us here, you can’t get us out, you can technically help us get out, but you would only do it if we did things your way, which you know we would never do. Why did you come here, then?”

She fixed her eyes on Celestia’s in an attempt to pressure her, since she felt she had her on the ropes, but Celestia’s gaze didn’t even flinch as she answered.

“To listen. For the first time in who knows how long, I want to listen. Listen as you tell me how the smartest pony anypony has ever thought themselves to be could be so completely, indescribably stupid.”

The queen froze. She could have quipped something, but the blinkless, bottomless glare of those magenta eyes fixed on her. It was the gaze of a pony who was ready and able to move mountains if need be, all for her and her problems. She held the princess’ undivided, unswerving attention. Something she didn’t feel she had ever since they discovered their power over the celestial bodies. Something that reminded her of the oft strict but ever-loving expression of their mother. For a moment she felt she had traveled back in time to when they were just two bickering sisters and all was well with the world.

“I… don’t know what you want to hear. I’m not going to apologise.” Celestia didn’t fail to notice that Luna’s constricted demonic pupils dilated to full round orbs for the first time since her turn.

“I wouldn’t ask for that,” Celestia said, careful not to move a single muscle, aside from her mouth. “But you gave up a lot. More than you’ve planned, for sure, but even if everything went according to your plan, this wouldn’t have been a clean affair.”

“You of all ponies must know that victory is neither easy nor free.” she deflected half-heartedly; her sister had always been way too good to point out her imprudence.

“Yes, but what did I do to warrant hate so blind, you’d be willing to sacrifice everything I had very good reason to believe you loved?”

For a moment, she couldn’t decide if Celestia would count herself one of those. The next one she realised it doesn’t make the question any easier either way.

“I…” she couldn’t help but think back to the countless nights when she worked for her ponies. The everlasting darkness, beautiful, yes, but lonely too. Much too lonely. “I don’t think… I don’t think I loved them. Not anymore. We created Equestria, we took our duties, but, with each passing night, I saw nothing but dreams and shadows. Every time I brought the moon up, all I saw was loners and heteroclites. Deviants, criminals, those on the edge of ponykind, in one way or another.”

She dared to glance up at her sister, to see if what she said had made sense, but she couldn’t decide, so she elected to continue.

“Even in the dreamscape, I was but an observer of the surreal silhouettes mapped onto the infinite canvas of the subconscious from the real world. I saw not the pony holding his mother’s hoof on her deathbed, I saw him drown in his regrets for all the time he shouted at her for the smallest of inconveniences.” The thousand memories of a thousand nightmares rushed to her and overwhelmed her so much, she could feel her eyes burn with tears.

“Yet, every morning, when I brought up the sun, I did it, assured that the world became a little better because of you,” Celestia said with the purest conviction she ever said anything.

“And every day you were thanked for it.” She closed her eyes to finally let the two teardrops roll down her face. “For your work, sure, but for mine, as well.”

“I do hear more shouting and insults than thanks.”

“Don’t jest.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “You’re not cussed out every day.”

“No, but my job is thankless, in a very literal way.” Celestia tried to fidget with a stone under her hoof, but it proved quite futile. “I reckon when one’s presence is as assured as the sun coming up the next day, it’s easy to take them for granted.”

“That’s irrelevant. Their love for you is a constant; you can taste it in the air…” she gazed off in the distance, as if that helped her come up with an apt metaphor. “It’s the background noise of the daily calamity, the light that lets you see all, but not anything in your view.”

“I really don’t think my life is as you imagine it to be.”

She turned her head back to her sister. “As you said, it’s hard not to be blind to that which one never ceases to see.”

“Poetic,” Celestia said, deep in her thoughts. “And not without truth, I reckon. But, I wonder, was there something that you may have missed? Something you took for granted?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she said fighting the urge to shrug. “Not in particular. But my little ponies didn’t hate you. They don’t even hate you now. That much I know. They aren't nocturnal, nothing is going to change that, but I feel that you're looking for the sunlight you claim they shower me with in the night. You’re not going to find that.”

“So, that’s your big idea? Just shut up and take it? Toil till Tartarus turns teal? Expect nothing in return?”

“No, you should expect things, but not things ponies are forced to give you like adoration.” Celestia looked up at Equestria. “You should expect to see the mother tucking in her foals at night. Teenagers stealing their first kiss under the halo of your moon. Soldiers huddling at the fire, keeping watch for the Timberwolves, to fight for those who never could."

She looked back at Luna, trying to summon the same intensity she always felt when someone threatened her little ponies.

“And most importantly, demand, not just expect, but demand from yourself that tomorrow, there will be more of all of these than yesterday. Small things, invisible to outside observers, but to them, it’s their life. As their guardians, this is the only thing that matters.”

“Is that really all you want?” she asked with both hope and disbelief. “You hide your pride from everyone except me, but I know you. I know you think you’re better than every pony. How could you not? We quite literally are.”

“It is all I can want,” Celestia answered, resolute.

“Why? Is it because wanting anything else leads to Tartarus?” she asked with her head hung low. She was already dissatisfied by the answer the question lent itself to. “Tia, we’re flesh and blood. I can’t be the only one longing for true respect." She glanced back up at her sister. "And if you don’t get what you want, that alabaster mask of graciousness will one day break. Ere you know, oh sister, you will be where I was…” she shook her head. “And on that day, not even I will be able to stand in the light of the unfettered sun,” she warned her.

“It is all I can want because it is all they can give me. We are both practically immortal. We’ll outlive any of my little ponies, but we will not outlive all of them. Their continuity is our solace.”

“So… that’s it?”

“My sole way to keep my sanity—trite, I’m afraid, but, so far, it’s worked. I know you don’t remember her, but it reminds me of Mother's moments with us.”

“Hey, I do remember her!” she snapped, feeling anger fill her once more, but not rage.

“Really?” Celestia recoiled a bit in surprise.

“Well, a little bit.” She snapped her gaze and head away from Celestia in shame. Her mane veiled most of her face. “Sensations. Like blurred notes of songs she used to sing to me. The warmth of her breath on my wings as she was preening me. Her pink mane flowing over me. Things like that.”

Celestia felt her entire body freeze instantly. She suspected that it wouldn’t show—polite neutrality was her default expression—but she couldn’t have changed it, even if her life had depended on it. Luna’s story had one thing wrong. Their mother had never had a pink mane.

Celestia looked back at Luna, and for the first time since Luna noticed her, her sister looked up in the sky at Equestria, deep in her thoughts. Several minutes passed, and Celestia didn’t dare to make a single sound.

“Do you think they would forgive me?”

“Without a second thought, Luna,” Celestia assured her instantly.

“And how long do you think it would take us to get me back?”

That was the moment of truth. Ideally, she would have delayed it somewhat, but she didn't have the most time, and it was as good an opportunity as any.

“Luna... I have a confession to make… In a way, I could get you back almost immediately. With certain restrictions.”

“And what might those be?” The ever-familiar skepticism returned on her sister’s face, but that was well within the acceptable parameters of her plan.

“You can basically cast my spell to establish contact. You’re only going to be able to talk with them and no one else, and if they want, they can just stop the spell from their end. But it’s not nothing."

“Sorry, but I’m not interested in being your shad…” she stopped and glanced at her suspiciously. “Wait… who is ‘them’?”

“Any single pony you wish to contact. It’s how the spell works,” Celestia answered quickly knowing full well something went horribly wrong.

“No, no no… I know you; you would not give me power like that. You said so much yourself.”

Luckily, the situation was manageable. She just had to tell her she had a safety plan. That was something Luna would assume by default.

“Well, not without precautions, Clover assured me, due to the distance, it would be relatively easy to blanket your attempts at convening with anyone in Equestria.”

“There it is. Of course, the one time you trot me out on display, you’d make sure I’m still on a leash.”

“I cannot risk my little ponies.” Celestia was perfectly happy to make Luna annoyed. “Upset” would have been manageable, also; it was anger she had to avoid.

“At least you had the decency not to say you’re sorry. But if the leash exists, why would you dangle the possibility that I may see others?”

“It is how the spell works. I would have explained it in detail before I taught you the spell.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have taken that risk. It is a dream spell. You know nothing about dreams, and I know more than anypony. Now that I know that’s possible, in your mind, I’m a risk.”

“A risk I can annul at any time. The laws of magic bind us both, and Clover's assured me his blocking spell is impregnable.” Unlike her argument—and she knew it. But there was nothing to do but play and pray.

“And if you don’t tell me that the spell could be used on anyone, and I find out by myself, you expect that I would either make a scene, if I were still dangerous, because I have no control over my emotions, or if I had learnt to control them enough to sneak this knowledge by you, I would have no reason to betray your trust. Making it an even safer option.”

“Luna, you’re being paranoid.” And completely right, unfortunately.

“Are we?” she asked as she started to walk to the right. Her pupils constricted again. “Because we seem to recall that there is nothing you trust more than our incapability to lie to you.” She turned around and began to walk in the other direction. “No, you wouldn’t have told us that this spell can be used on anyone other than you, and even if you had, you wouldn’t have told us now.” She stopped, gazed into the distance for a second, then back to Celestia. “That is, unless you've wanted us to use this spell on someone else.”

And Celestia knew she was caught. The one question that remained—as it shall forever, for she will never be strong enough to face the answer—if she wanted that from the beginning.

Regardless, the jig was up, and, thus, the path ahead was straightforward.

“Look, I’m really sorry you have to learn it this way, but this is really not the time for us to squabble like foals. Starswirl fell ill. He is dying, and he asked me and Clover to figure out a way to let him see you one last time.”

“Oh for FUCK’S SAKE Celestia! I can’t believe you!” she shouted angrily. “Will there be one day in this infernal eternity we call life when you stop manipulating me?”

Celestia hung her head down in shame and pain. She caught her sister pupils as they dilated back to their round form, she imagined because the eldritch slits couldn’t physically fit all the grief in her soul.

“Look, I know this wasn’t exactly a straightforward way to approach this, but I’ve meant every single word I’ve said…”

“No, you didn’t!” she shouted her down. “You've never wanted me down there! This meeting has never been about me! It wasn’t even about Starswirl. It was about YOU.” She pointed at Celestia. “It was about you being the primest properest perfectest pony princess you could be, and that happened to include trying to fulfill Starswirl’s dying wish,” Luna asserted, pressing every single “p” in the alliteration with malicious intent.

“You didn’t care if you managed to convince me I was wrong, you didn’t care if I talked to Starswirl, you didn’t even care that I was alive. The only thing that mattered was that your conscience remained white as your coat.”

“I mean, isn’t that why this is how we meet?” She gestured all around. “You a bajillion miles away, unable to be harmed, and me locked in this cell, unable to get out? So that your precious status quo wouldn’t ever be hurt?”

Celestia saw Luna look down at the ground, in search of something, anything she could hold on to now that her sister betrayed her once more.

“I bet even if I had agreed with everything you said, even if I'd shown that I truly wanted to come back, the moment I'd finished talking to Starswirl, you would have told Clover to set the shield up.”

She looked back at Celestia, her eyes full of tears, pleading.

“But if nothing that I do, say, or show matters, couldn’t you have just asked me? Just once as a favour from one sibling to another?”

“Luna… I’m so sorry, but you left me no chance to believe you wouldn’t have refused. If for nothing else just to spite me.”

“And you know that from your vast experience of asking me to do things exactly zero times?”

“What on Equestria are you talking about? I’ve asked you plenty of things,” Celestia asked, genuinely confused.

“No-no-no. No… No. Just NO!” with every no, her volume increased until her last shriek rattled the very emptiness of the Moon. But it wasn’t volume, but the lack thereof of her next words that truly terrified Celestia. “You could never ask ponies. You smiled, you lied, you lured, then ensured you got your way. Usually by accusing them of hurting the little ponies if they were to disagree with you. And they would do it, and she would do it. We will not. And in your world, which for the rest of us is THE world that makes us evil.”

Like on that fateful night, the circle morphed into a line, the pain turned to rage, the cry into laughter. A long, demented, eerie laughter, devoid of both happiness and hope, a judgment of the world itself condemning it to eternal darkness.

“Know this, Celestia: our power swells and wilts with the dance of the stars, but, one day, we promise you, sister, we will break this damned blockade with which you've trapped us in here, and then, there will not be any wall that may stop us from exacting a revenge we will have had a thousand moons to perfect!”

The Nightmare licked her lips in anticipation of the feast that might be still a millennium away from today and lit up her horn, daring to challenge reality itself to see if it were really impossible to hurt a phantasm.

That was enough to convince Celestia her job was over. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the formula given by Clover, and, a couple of seconds later, she opened them in her own bedroom.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Celestia said to no one in particular. “Note to self: next time I attempt to talk with Luna, remember to basically… Don’t.” Her words turned to a mutter. “It’s not worth it.”

With that, the Princess of Ponykind opened the door and found the one pony in front she wanted to talk to. Clover the Clever.

“Greetings, princess! Did you manage to convene with your royal sister?" he asked trying to not sound surprised, terrified, or even glad that he still had a modicum of time for which he could delay the inevitable.

“I did. Thank you for your quick and tireless work on the spell. Sadly, it went about as well as we both knew it would. Please don't forget to initiate the shield we've talked about.” Though she sounded polite, Clover knew the princess was an expert at vanishing any trace of fatigue or emotion from her voice.

“I’ll get to it right away, Your Highness.” Clover bowed.

“No need,” she asserted with a smile. “It’s Hearth's Warming Eve. Enjoy your night. That’s a royal command, Clover! I’ll be with Starswirl. I’ll have to tell him that my sister’s hate for… well, generally everything, trumps her love towards him.”

Clover, after he’d run that exact moment in his head a million different ways since her departure, still had no proper way to say it.

“Your Highness,” he started in his gentlest tone, “I couldn’t have talked out of place, but, Master Starswirl…”

“What’s with him?” she asked with frightening sharpness. Clover felt immediately really, really small.

“The moment you went under, he… started to cough blood, the healers tried to stabilise him… but there was nothing to be done. He passed ten minutes ago.”

Everything about Princess Celestia, that signified any level of consciousness, or even life, ceased. Her mane stopped flowing, her eyes locked in place, her breathing stopped. The quite literal source of all life in Equestria became her own husk. Not her opposite, but her absence. She became death ponified.

And right on cue, she closed her eyes, blew all the air out of her lungs, took a big breath and asked, in a measured, deliberate tone, “You mean to tell me that I missed the last moments of my mentor, the only pony whom I could look up to since the passing of my mother, because I was stuck in the moon with my ungrateful little sister.”

“Princess Celestia, there was no way anypony could foresee…”

With a single flick of her hoof, she waved Clover off.

“I understand,” she started. She looked out her window. “It’s not your fault, it’s not Starswirl’s fault, and it’s not even the monster’s fault on the moon.” With every word, Celestia's voice turned lighter, but Clover knew it wasn't her anger she was leaving behind, but her compassion.

“It’s my sister’s fault. It’s her fault for giving in her darkest desires, for not doing enough to avoid the pitfalls life gives to all of us. And she will be punished. Accordingly.”

Celestia turned away looking at the other end of the room, her mere presence emanating an inconvenient warmth.

“From this point on, none will hear from her, no text shall mention her, no tale shall be told of her. She disappears with the memories of this generation. She reached for the unconditional love of the ponies, now she will be doomed to oblivion.”

Celestia turned back to Clover, bowed down, glared straight into his eyes.

“This—and no less—is the price of separating me from Starswirl in his final moments.” As she calmly talked, Clover noticed that her irises got a red-ish tint, and her perfectly round pupils became slightly oval.

She straightened up and looked away into the distance. “Tomorrow, I’ll begin the preparations to enact this plan legally. I’d welcome your input, too, but if you find this undertaking distasteful, I'll understand that as well.”

Finally, Celestia closed her terrifying eyes and gave out her final order for the night.

“I wish to spend the night with Starswirl, and I’m not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Please convey my apology for my absence as well as my warmest well wishes to anyone at the party. I wish you all a very happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

On the future of infinity (Epilogue)

Clover walked out of the room and back into his own. There were a number of corridors between the two, but he didn’t remember he had crossed them. He opened his doors, only to find his companion, Serendipity.

“Clover! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Without a second thought, the sky-blue pegasus embraced him.

“Not quite,” he sighed. “More like the thing that makes ghosts hide under their beds.” Though Hearth's Warming Eve had brought many wonders to all of their lives, in Clover’s opinion, none could compare to the warm embrace of the pegasus mare.

“So, she’s back.” She broke the embrace but kept herself propped up to eye level with Clover by placing her forehooves on the front of Clover’s barrel.

“Which one?”

“Celestia?”

“Yes.”

“And she knows.”

“Yes… I mean what? How do you know?”

“I have my ways.” She smiled as she playfully tapped his nose, then she got down to all fours. “Not that I needed them. This is Starswirl we're talking about. Everyone in the court knows.”

“I should tell them not to disturb her.” Clover tried to go for the door, but Serendipity held him back.

“Based on how you look, I don’t think anyone who sees her will have any doubt about that. Any idea what she is going to do now?”

“Tonight? Bawling her eyes out. Without question. Tomorrow? Something horrible.” Clover had a sudden idea and promptly walked over to his personal telescope.

“Which is?”

Serendipity’s question registered in his brain, but it was hard to allocate any resources to it, as he looked for something on the Moon. Soon enough, he found the new feature he guessed might have formed after the events of the discussion. A crater, huge, but still too small for the naked eye, under the muzzle of the mare. It looked almost like a teardrop.

He didn’t have the time to ponder too much on it. His partner was considerate of his eccentricities, but her patience had its limits. And he was yet to explain Princess Celestia’s plan.

“She intends to… erase Princess Luna from the… collective memory of ponykind? I guess. It wasn’t very clear what or how she was going to do, but she seemed absolutely determined.”

“Do you think she would actually do that?”

“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “I don’t know them as well as Master. But she is a proud one. And her word is a bind she doesn’t give or break easily. But I do think she is going to eventually relent.”

“Why?”

“You know how she always tells anypony who asks if she doesn’t feel lonely, that her eternal companion is Equestria?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was just wondering: how long can a concept replace a living, breathing, actual pony? Her sister is the eternal companion she's either looked over or taken for granted, but how long can that go on now that they're separated? My guess is… not forever.”

After a few seconds of contemplation, Serendipity spoke up.

“Funny you say that. I have a similar theory about Luna. Us younger siblings have a lot in common. When I was young, I often copied my siblings' interests to connect with them. And that made me think. With Celestia being so devoted to “her little ponies”, what if it wasn’t the common ponies’ adoration Luna was after?”

“I guess that makes sense too. Let’s hope this rift will heal in time. But tonight? Tonight’s for tears."

“No.” she grabbed his left foreleg with the intent to drag him away. “Tonight’s for Friendship. Come on, Starswirl would have wanted it. Even for those two. Especially for them.”

Author's Note

I know, I know. In canon Starswirl didn't die. I just pulled a D&D and kinda forgot about it. Literally. Later on when I was too far in the story, I realised my mistake, but I couldn't find another character who could have played the same role.

The Fausticorn was probably my best bet, but her existence in Equestria the country post unification, would have opened up a can of worm I was not willing do deal with. The amount of headcannon I would have had to make up and tell was unfeasible in the short format I was asked to work with. Also I needed their maternal parent figure in other ways, and this more "ethereal" presence suited her role better.

As to Starswirl my best - and only - defence that his back story is incredibly scuffed as is, so in some ways this probably makes more sense than whatever is in the show.

Still, it is a mistake, and I'm sorry.