Loose Pages

The sun was late today, not enough for most anypony to notice. A minute was an acceptable deviation, and not even that had occurred. Regardless, Princess Celestia could expect a letter in the post soon enough from the Canterlot Astrological Society noting as much. She didn’t care—they wouldn’t visit her at the castle—so they couldn’t possibly notice anything truly unusual, and nopony else would so much as suspect something to be amiss.

She put on her regalia, had breakfast, held court, and had an otherwise perfectly normal day; once she was finished and retired to her bedchambers, she unlocked the hidden latch in her private desk, and by a series of shifting panels held the book in her magical grip. She gingerly set it on her bed, lit her fireplace in an instant, grabbed a cup of tea from the serving cart she had earlier requested, and sat flat on the bed as she looked at the book while occasionally sipping her tea.

The book took on a form showing the reader what she most desired to read, with everypony seeing something different. Celestia had chuckled upon Twilight Sparkle telling her of its appearance being that of her autobiography; her purple student so loved her and, when the unicorn had been unable to learn anything about the nature of the book, brought it to her. Celestia had known, from the moment she saw it, that she would read it, and everypony was so trusting of her that it hadn’t been hard to fib just a little and get it from her. There hadn’t been too much to fib about, she hadn’t lied about the book’s alien nature. The book was perhaps a possessed grimoire, or perhaps a phylactery, so skillfully-crafted that its activation function was impossible to discern. Reading it from beginning to end could have it fulfill its alien purpose, as could anything before then.

She stared at the cover for a few minutes before opening it this time. It was a simple photo album, like many ponies kept in their homes, with a basic white trim on its red cover; on the front near the center were the black words “family photos” clearly written by hoof, but not her hoof. His.

The sun was late today, not enough for most ponies to notice. Twenty minutes weren’t an unheard of deviation, and she could move the sun across the heavens a little faster to compensate until noon. Regardless, most ponies trusted her judgment well enough to not question her about this. There was only one mare in the castle who may ask her about it, so she’d need to plan her responses in advance. No court would be held today, which suited her just fine. Her bedchambers were dark, she hadn’t bothered to light the fireplace this time; she could read by the light her body emitted.

She opened the book, and read up to her current point again. There were few words, the book’s pages were filled almost entirely by glued photographs, and there was even the occasional memento attached, which she dared not to disturb.

It showed everything she’d done with him, exactly matching her memory, and more. The first photograph was simple: They were standing before one of the castle’s entrances, her mouth slightly curved into a smile and he so very nervous. The next showed them at a table in one of the finest Canterlotonian restaurants; she remembered it so very clearly, but there had never been a photographer present to take such a picture. She doubted her memory, but once again violently banished the thought and continued to turn the pages.

There they were, at their wedding which had never happened. Celestia involuntarily took a deep breath, and didn’t notice when she started crying. Before her falling tear could touch the book’s page, it was caught in her magic, and she turned her attention towards it for a moment. Perhaps that was how the book awoke itself, by driving the reader to tears. She tossed the tear onto her bedsheets and wiped her eyes with a tissue; she blew her nose in it before continuing.

One photograph showed her heavy with foal and knitting a pink little outfit. She was smiling more than she could ever remember and had her tongue sticking out at the camera, eyes closed. She turned the page to reveal a photograph taken of a sweet little foal who had a brown coat and a black mane; she could see her body dwarfing his in the background. It couldn’t be the truth, the book had to be lying to her, showing her what she wanted to see. As she turned the pages, she saw that adorable foal grow into a colt, then a stallion, and watched his sire grow older too.

She kept reading until there was a knock on her door. Her face twisted in anger just a little, for just a moment, by just the smallest narrowing of her eyes and curling of her lips, before she put on her happy face again. If the guards had allowed somepony to disturb her, it was easy to narrow down who that pony may be. She put the book under her pillow, slid backwards from the bed, and willed herself to stand before the door. “You may come in.”

Princess Luna had been on the other side of the door, and pranced into the room. “Hello, dearest sister.”

Celestia responded with a slightly-exaggerated tone. “Hello, only sister.”

Luna laughed exactly once. “Nevertheless. We came to enquire about the heavens, and the cause for the sun’s late rising. We did not see thee at breakfast either.” Luna’s smile disappeared. “Art thou feeling well, sister?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about me.” Celestia remembered her canned, sarcastic answer and used it after only an appropriate delay. “I was just reading a good book is all, and lost track of the time.”

“Oh, pray tell us the title, dear sister. So many books have been written during our absence, and we wish to read all of the good ones!” Luna was once again smiling.

Celestia’s smile faltered, but perhaps Luna hadn’t seen. “I don’t believe you would like it; it’s a book of romance.”

“Oh, but we love romance!” Luna smiled and clapped her forehooves together for a moment, her wings flapping once to keep her steady; then she frowned for another moment. “Well, so long as it is a proper story of romance. One of the maids once suggested to us a romance book, about lesbians.” Luna had leaned in and whispered those last two words, eyes wide; she then pulled her head back and put on a satisfied, regal face. “We made her scrub the toilets exclusively for a moon, after that.”

Celestia wanted to enjoy this conversation, but time spent with Luna was time spent away from the book. “Well perhaps later, little sister, once I’ve finished it.” It occurred to her she could claim the book to concern itself with lesbians, or stallions, but that would be too on the muzzle, too obvious. “I’ll leave the night to you now, if you won’t mind.” She very nearly glanced at her pillow hiding the book. “I’d like to retire early today.”

“Sister, what is wrong? Please tell us.” Celestia saw her horn glow and could tell Luna cast a soundproofing spell on the room after that question. Celestia sighed.

“I don’t want to talk about it, sister. Is that good enough?” Celestia could tell it wouldn’t be.

“Sister, do not let your heart ache in isolation. We have made that mistake, and regret it dearly. Please, tell us what is wrong.” Luna stepped closer, and Celestia didn’t move.

“I was remembering an old flame. Now is that enough to satisfy your curiosity?” Neither of them were smiling now.

“No, it’s not. We know about the book, sister, but thought it best to leave it alone. Now we can see it is far more severe than we first thought.” Luna read the surprise from Celestia’s eyes and answered it immediately. “Spike told us about the book. We happened upon him in the castle whilst thou and Twilight Sparkle were examining it.”

Celestia cursed herself for not considering that possibility. She hadn’t been able to think clearly from the moment she saw it.

“On what appearance does this book take under thy gaze?” Luna was no longer blinking, instead wide-eyed to place each and every movement Celestia made under the heaviest scrutiny.

“It shows me the life I almost had with him, the life I almost made with him.” Luna interrupted her with four words, “’Tis an illusion, sister.”

Celestia started to raise her voice. “He got to grow old alongside me. I got to continue his bloodline within mine,” she paused and her next words were angrier, “rather than watch it soak into the ground.”

“Give us the book, sister.” Luna’s voice was as calm and sweet as she could make it. “Now, before this worsens.” Celestia’s response was one word, “no.”

Luna continued. “Let us send it to the moon.” That was Luna’s answer for everything she wanted to banish. Celestia wanted to argue that doing so could activate it, but that was very unlikely, and it was unlikely to do any harm if there in any case. She didn’t need an argument, however.

“If you want it, you must take it from me, little sister.” Celestia had made certain to strongly emphasize that penultimate word. They stared at each other for what felt like ten minutes. Luna still wasn’t blinking.

“Please, sister.” Luna had tears in her eyes and, while Celestia wanted to dismiss them from her lack of blinking, she couldn’t. She was feeling either guilt, or the influence of the book waning.

“Sister, please, let us not squabble over this. The book could very well be an instrument of Discord.” That was true, the book could be designed to start a fight, and unleash its power in the resulting chaos. That was in-character for the snake. She should smash that eyesore of a statue into pieces. “Sister, why dost thou have such a look of hatred in thine eyes? We are scared, sister.” Celestia hadn’t realized her face was matching her thoughts; she was usually better about that. No, smashing that statue wouldn’t be right. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed.

“I’m sorry, little sister.” This time the penultimate word was said without hatred. “I was thinking about something else, something about which I shouldn’t think again.” She opened her eyes, and gave her warmest look. “You’re right. I should stop reading the book. That’s what’s most likely to unleash its power, whatever that power is.”

“It appeared to me as a photo album.” Her magic moved her pillow, uncovering the book, and brought it between them. “Here, Luna.” Luna didn’t take it. For the first time in several minutes, she blinked, new fright on her face. “What do you see in the book?”

Luna’s magic shakily covered the book, and Celestia allowed her grip on it to dissipate in-turn. The book appeared to be about one thousand years old; it was dusty, tattered, and the first few blank pages had many holes in them from silverfish, pages which had only been revealed as the book seemed to nearly fall apart. “The title of the book is,” Luna paused and swallowed, “The reign of Nightmare Moon.”