A maid walked the ornate halls of the Royal Palace, dutifully carrying out her duties with the professionalism expected of Equestria's finest domestic service. With her trusty feather duster - the DustMaster 3000, newest model on the market - she delicately brushed motes of dust from imposing suits of armor, the gilded frames of paintings, and vases older than the nation itself. She spent perhaps a bit too much time on each piece, though her supervisor always told every new hire to clean until you could see your reflection.

She stared into the polished surface of a Grecian urn and giggled as she saw the contours of her face among the ancient scenes of feasting and games. Though she wasn't much of a history buff, she had to admit that it was interesting to work among artifacts that pre-dated modern history.

Bang!

A tremor shook the hallway, causing paintings to rattle and suits of armor to clank. A flurry of yelling and screaming erupted from one of the rooms along the passage, the one that, with a gulp, the maid realized was Celestia's personal study. She couldn't even imagine what could be so distressing, so infuriating that the ever-serene mother of the nation felt the need to raise her voice.

Wobble! Wobble!

Her ears pricked at the distinct sound of something wobbling to her left.

"Oh shit!" She dived to catch the falling vase, clutching it to her chest and turning so that she would land on her back. Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she checked the vase over for any damage. Not even a scuff mark. "Thank Celestia."

When the vase was safely back on its pedestal, the maid hurriedly made an exit, hoping to find a more peaceful area of the palace to clean. She could not imagine that sticking around when the Princess was in a bad mood would be good for anyone.

"So," Celestia said, gently swirling a glass of sherry in her hand. Sitting across from her was a woman with storm-cloud hair and electric eyes, eyes that were staring back at her defiantly. It was astonishing how much she missed that look. "Let me make sure I understand this. You have been gone for 900 years, journeying around the world. You have decided to return to Equestrian society. Your first act is to challenge nearly one hundred Royal Guards to a fight, proceeding to leave almost all of them in the hospital." Celestia paused to take a sip of her drink, knowing that she would need it. "Does that sound about right, Tempest?"

"When you word it like that, it doesn't put me in the best light, sister." She spat the last word with a venom that could stun a manticore. Tempest reached for the drink Celestia prepared for her, forgoing it in favor of the bottle. She took two long swigs, ignoring the exasperated expression of her sister. "I would say that I went on a journey of self-discovery and growth and have finally decided to return home. I found that the guards were not up to standard, and so I beat sense into them as we would have done in the old days."

"Ah, growth. Is that what you call this?" Celestia waved a dismissive hand at Tempest. How the younger Goddess could term what she had done last night 'growth' was beyond even her centuries of wisdom. "I see an immature young woman who came back just the same as she left."

"Immature!" Tempest growled, slamming her hands on the desk. Fortunately, it had been built with angry goddesses in mind, because as much as Celestia cultivated the image of a calm, controlled monarch, ruling a nation was stressful. "I haven't even been back for a whole day and already you're passing judgment! And," she wagged a finger in Celestia's face to punctuate her point, "I don't see how giving a bunch of guards some much needed combat training is immature!"

"Tempest," Celestia was speaking through grit teeth, an occasion so rare that even her hot-headed sister wilted. She was mad, roaring mad, and for Celestia that manifested as a cold steel in her voice that sent an uncomfortable shiver down the spine of whoever dared annoy her. "Has it occurred to you that breaking bones may not be proper training? Has it occurred to you that I am going to have to present you to those same guards as a member of the royal family?" With a sigh, Celestia settled into her plush velvet chair and rubbed her temples in annoyance. "In case you did not realize, we are no longer in an era where a noble could kill someone over a slight or sleep with the newly-wedded wife of a serf. There are rules now, Tempest. Even for us."

Tempest merely huffed and took another long swig from the bottle of sherry. Celestia rolled her eyes; some things never changed, even as centuries passed. The bottle was suddenly covered in a shimmering golden glow and yanked back to the table, much to the frustration of the drinker. Her glare was met by a raised eyebrow.

"I think you've had enough."

"I didn't realize you were Mother."

"No, but I am your older sister, and in her absence, I am responsible for you."

"I'm a grown woman, Tia," Tempest crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't need someone being responsible for me."

"You could have fooled me." Celestia held up a hand to stop further argument. "Both of us know that this will go nowhere, so let us turn to more practical matters." She gazed out the window, looking at everything except what was in front of her. "I'm going to have to introduce you - reintroduce you - to the nation. In their eyes, you and Luna are little more than myths." Despite everything, Celestia huffed in amusement. "Some historians have even theorized that ancient peoples interpreted different aspects of my personality as the Moon Goddess and the Storm Goddess."

"Mortals are funny like that," Tempest chuckled. Both sisters sat in silence for a moment, each wondering how to bridge the wide gulf between them. Finally, Tempest spoke again, her eyes settled on a particularly interesting point on the floor. Her tone was begrudging but still apologetic. "Celestia, I... I do apologize for last night. I really do like to think I've grown a lot over these 900 years, it's just... you know how I am..."

"I know. I do." Oh, did Celestia know. It was virtually ingrained into the Storm Goddess' very being to be as impulsive and temperamental as the squalls she commanded, as much as it was ingrained in Celestia to be the calm, serene matriarch, like a gentle sun bathing her supplicants in soothing rays. "I just need you to try and curb some of your more... destructive tendencies. I promise that we can find you appropriate outlets."

"I don't have a choice, do I," Tempest groaned.

"No," Celestia said with a thin smile on her face. "There is nothing more stifling than the social pressures of a royal court."

Author's Note

Prologue arcs, so wonderful