Solar Storm

Chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Prologue

One could hear the muffled clinking of glasses and the subdued chatter of Canterlot’s high society, mingling with the graceful strains of a string orchestra. Servants glided almost silently through the hall, balancing trays with artfully arranged dishes in their hooves. The air was heavy with exotic aromas and expensive perfume. Golden sunlight poured through the intricate stained-glass windows, painting colorful patterns on the immaculate hardwood floor. Above the castle arched a cloudless sky, and the song of birds drifted in through the open windows. Celestia had clearly left nothing to chance in making this day an unparalleled event.

Twilight Sparkle, clad in a sky-blue ball gown embroidered with silver stars, sat at the end of the long table, flanked by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Her hooves rested nervously in her lap as her gaze swept over the guests. Nobles and notable celebrities occupied the seats, each wearing a smile that was polite yet distant, while the chill in their eyes cracked the warm façade.

It was Twilight’s coronation banquet, a celebration in her honor as the new Alicorn princess of Equestria. A thought that still felt alien to her. One of her lavender wings twitched involuntarily, drawing a fleeting expression of displeasure from her. She knew she would need some time to get used to these unfamiliar limbs.

“Twilight, my dear, you seem so tense,” Celestia remarked with a gentle sidelong glance and a smile. “Is the food not to your liking? Or is there something troubling you?”

Twilight forced a smile that didn’t entirely convince even herself. “No, Princess. The food is fantastic. The chefs truly outdid themselves. I don’t even recognize half the dishes they’re serving.” She paused, her gaze dropping to her lap. “It’s just…” Her voice grew softer. “I feel a bit out of place. Maybe I’m in the wrong company,” she added quietly.

Celestia adopted a playfully dramatic expression and drew in an exaggerated breath. “Are you suggesting you don’t enjoy my company?” Her eyes sparkled with feigned indignation, yet her voice held a loving undertone.

“What? No, Princess, that’s not what I meant!” Twilight blurted nervously. Her ears twitched slightly, and she lowered her head, embarrassed, when she met Celestia’s gaze. It was apparent she hadn’t caught the humorous note in Celestia’s voice. “You know I always enjoy your company, but…” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed nervously before continuing. “All these important ponies at the table. They smile, but I can feel their cold, hard stares on me. I know many of them aren’t really happy about the reason for this banquet. That I’m not truly one of them, and… honestly, I’m not sure I even want to be.”

Celestia draped one of her large white wings around Twilight and gently drew her closer, as though shielding her from the cold gazes that seemed to cause her so much distress. “Don’t bother seeking their approval. You aren’t one of them, and you’re not meant to be,” she said with a warm smile, gesturing lightly to herself, Luna, and Cadance. “You are one of us. And believe me, we’ve accepted you for a long time now.”

Twilight rewarded Celestia with a slightly more genuine smile. “I think you’re right. I suppose I just need some time to adjust to all this.”

Twilight’s thoughts drifted as she listened to the conversations around her. Most of the guests chatted about trivial matters: a new, expensive shrub in someone’s garden, a peculiar incident in Canterlot Park. But every now and then, biting remarks reached her ears. Some were subtle, little more than whispered words, while others were openly mocking. They discussed her posture, her appearance, her status. One voice even dared to call her “Celestia’s pet.”

Twilight’s stomach clenched, but she remained silent. She couldn’t deny how those words picked at her deepest insecurities. Yes, Celestia meant well, but she was mistaken. Whether Twilight liked it or not, she was now part of the nobility, and the others saw her as competition. Worse still, they viewed her as an intruder, a disruption to their meticulously preserved order. What were their inherited titles and lofty bloodlines worth if a commoner like Twilight Sparkle could simply surpass them? Not merely into the nobility, but all the way onto a throne.

A faint clinking broke Twilight’s train of thought. Her ears flicked, and her gaze lifted as a butler with snow-white fur and slicked-back golden mane appeared before her. His posture was faultless, his movements precise, as he set a wine glass of the finest crystal before her. The black waistcoat he wore bore the crest of House Blueblood, embroidered with flawless precision.

“Madam,” he began in a voice that reflected the elegance of the evening, ”may I do you the honor of serving you a drop from the exquisite private collection of the House of Blueblood? A bitter-sweet red wine, vintage 200 a.L. A real treat for the palate.”

Twilight blinked, her uncertainty briefly masked by a mixture of astonishment and surprise. The butler waited patiently, his stance as unwavering as the snow-capped peaks of Canterlot.

Finally, Twilight nodded. “It would be my pleasure.” On cue, he poured a fine vintage from an elegant-looking bottle into her glass. He bowed deeply once again and trotted away with practiced grace. Twilight watched him briefly before her attention returned to Princess Luna and Celestia, who were immersed in a lively discussion about the organization of the palace guards.

Lost in thought, Twilight raised the glass with her magic and examined the deep red wine shimmering in the stained-glass light. She took a small sip. It was indeed quite sweet, with a distinctive flavor. She only noticed a second, more bitter aftertaste a moment later. Just as Twilight was trying to make sense of this bitterness, something changed almost instantly.

A burning sensation crawled up her throat, followed by a sharp pain in her chest. Her breathing became ragged, and the world around her began to waver. The glass slipped from her magical grasp and shattered with a shrill clang against the floor. Twilight gasped, her wings twitching uncontrollably as her head hit the edge of the table. Voices rose all around her, and hurried steps thudded. Celestia’s voice pierced the haze, urgent and desperate.

“Twilight! Stay with me!”

Someone was holding her in their hooves. The pain tore through her thoughts. She felt a fierce heat and heard a few muffled, shouted words, and then all that remained was a deep, relentless darkness that enfolded her.

Author's Note

It took a while, but I've written something again. Chapter 1 will follow soon, I'm curious to see how you like the storyso far.

Chapter 1

Twilight opened her eyes and blinked in annoyance as the golden sunlight shone through the half-drawn curtains, dazzling her. A quiet mumble escaped her lips as she turned her head away.

“Mmmm… Spike, close the curtains,” she murmured sleepily, her mouth barely open, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. No answer.

“Spike,” she repeated hoarsely, this time with a hint of desperation, her voice half-muffled by the pillow. Her body felt strange, sluggish and heavy, as though she had slept for an eternity. Her head was spinning, and her throat was as dry as sandpaper. She tried for a while longer to fall back asleep, but the discomfort inside her wouldn’t allow it.

With a soft groan, she finally forced herself upright, her muscles protesting every movement. She opened her sticky eyes, blinking to see her surroundings more clearly, and froze.

This was not her bedroom in the Golden Oaks Library. Nor was it her bed.

A queasy feeling spread through her chest as she looked around. The room was unfamiliar, yet there was a strange sense of familiarity that she couldn’t quite place. She lay in a huge queen-size bed covered in red silk sheets with gold embroidery. Ornately carved hardwood furniture dotted the space. Directly opposite her hung a large golden mirror decorated with sun ornaments worked into the frame. Where, by Celestia, was she?

Her gaze wandered across the room and settled on a small side table next to the bed. There stood a glass of water and, beside it, some freshly cut apple slices neatly arranged on a plate. Were those meant for her? The thought gave her pause, but she was uncomfortably reminded of her scratchy throat, and her thirst quickly overruled any doubt.

Without further hesitation, she enveloped the glass in her magic, lifted it to her lips, and drank it down in one gulp. The cool liquid felt like balm to her throat, even if it only briefly soothed her. For a moment, she held the empty glass suspended in midair, staring at it before setting it back on the table. Whoever had placed it there… clearly knew she would wake up. But where was that pony now?

Slowly, Twilight let her hooves slide over the edge of the bed and sat up. Her legs trembled when she stood, and the moment she took a step forward, she stumbled. A sudden dizziness overwhelmed her, and her vision blurred as though her body was rebelling against the movement. She gasped for air and half-leaned against the bed, half against the floor, her heart pounding as though she had just run a sprint. How long had she been lying here? Days? Weeks? Her thoughts swirled, but no clear answer emerged.

After what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only a minute, her vision gradually cleared, and her breathing became steadier. Unsteadily, she pushed herself onto all four hooves again and waited a moment until the ground under her felt solid. She blinked a few times, then her gaze drifted to the door on the right side of the bed. She took one step at a time, carefully, as though any movement might throw her off balance again.

When she reached the door, her mulberry-colored magic flared to life. A softly glowing aura enveloped the doorknob, and she immediately sensed that something was off. A gentle warmth emanated from the knob, almost soothing, yet so unnatural that she hesitated. A frown formed on her brow as she focused her magical senses, her eyes half-closed.

Cautiously, she let her magic probe further, feeling beyond the room. It was subtly concealed, but there was definitely something there. A finely woven net extending from the door into every corner of the room. Runes, visible only to trained eyes, pulsed in a slow, harmonious rhythm. Twilight snorted softly. These were protective spells.

Had she not been trained for years by the immortal Princess of the Sun herself, she might not have noticed the magical web at all. Yet now she could almost grasp its complexity. Each rune seemed to hold its own puzzle, and the interwoven magic was so perfect that she could spend months unraveling even just the basics. The energy that pulsed within it was enormous. Enough to hold back an army or reduce an entire village to ashes.

And yet… there was that odd sense of familiarity. Twilight furrowed her brow, sensing the magical signature. It felt warm, almost caring, like the embrace of a mother or a lover. And yet, she couldn’t say exactly whose magic it was.

“Well, I guess there’s no other way,” Twilight muttered with a soft sigh. She gathered her strength and finally pushed the door open, her magic still at the ready in case something unexpected should happen.

Glowing Shield was a Praetorian guard of the Royal Guard of Canterlot, and honestly, he was quite proud of that fact. His family had served the Crown for four generations, and he saw it as his duty to continue that tradition with dignity. Besides, how many ponies could claim to serve under the mightiest ruler in the world?

He was a young, sturdy Earth Pony stallion with a light-gray coat, a silver mane, and amber eyes. An imposing figure, in his own opinion. Yes, he loved his job. That didn’t mean he was immune to boredom, though.

The truth was, a pony could only stand motionless in a hallway for so long before the mind started looking for distractions. And this monotonous, seemingly endless corridor certainly wasn’t helping. After two weeks on guard duty in this specific spot, he at least knew that the corridor had exactly 4,021 white marble tiles, 82 candles, 17 paintings, and 3 tapestries. Not that this information was ever going to be useful.

He yawned expansively and shifted his weight onto the spear he kept casually leaned against his side. With a pang of self-irony, he wondered whether this hallway might win a prize for “most boring workplace in all of Equestria.” But hey, at least it was peaceful here.

Or so he thought, until suddenly a soft click came from the door behind him. His ears twitched. The door? It shouldn’t. He turned his head just in time to see the door handle glow with a magical aura. For a moment, he stared dumbfounded at the door slowly swinging open, then hastily snapped back to attention, eyes wide.

Twilight stumbled through the door and looked curiously at the guard in front of her. “Oh, hello!” she said in a friendly tone, forcing a slight smile. Her legs still felt a bit shaky, but she managed to appear almost relaxed. “You wouldn’t happen to know how I got here, would you?” she asked, her voice polite yet tinged with curiosity, as if speaking to an old acquaintance.

Glowing Shield’s thoughts raced. This couldn’t be. Twilight Sparkle had been in a coma for months. And now, suddenly, she was standing right in front of him. What was he supposed to do again in this situation? His eyes widened as his brain scrambled for the correct response. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his once-perfect posture began to wobble slightly.

“Uh…” he finally managed, his eyes darting frantically around the hallway, as though one of those 4,021 marble tiles might hold an instruction manual for this scenario.

“G-greetings, uh… Miss Sparkle,” he said at last, sounding a bit lost, before abruptly freezing in place. His eyes narrowed, and a look of pure panic spread across his face. “I mean…” He bowed hastily, nearly dropping his spear. “G-greetings, Your Highness!”

Twilight frowned and looked at the guard in confusion. His overly formal response seemed so odd that she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be concerned. “You can relax,” she finally said hesitantly, as if she didn’t want to frighten him even more. She waited patiently for him to straighten back up before trying again.

“So…” She gave him her friendliest smile, although it wavered slightly with the confusion in her eyes. “Could you maybe tell me why I woke up in that room? Or how I even got here? Or…”

Her words trailed off as she took a closer look around. The long, sterile hallway was adorned with red banners displaying a sharper, more aggressive version of Celestia’s Cutie Mark. An angular, stylized sun whose rays looked like deadly weapons. Unknown paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, and the overall atmosphere felt alien. Despite the warm color scheme, the place seemed cold, as though it no longer had anything to do with the Canterlot she knew.

“…or where I am at all,” she finished, the confusion in her voice more evident than before. Her eyes darted back to the guard, who now looked as though he might either answer or collapse inwardly at any second.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Glowing Shield quickly straightened up, posture rigid as a marble column. “If you would be so kind as to follow me. I have strict orders that, should you awaken, I’m to bring you directly to Queen Daybreaker. She will answer all of your questions.”

Twilight blinked and tilted her head slightly. “Queen Daybreaker?” The word “Queen” made her raise an eyebrow. Who was this Queen Daybreaker, and why had she never heard of her?

A sinking feeling settled in Twilight’s chest, but she forced herself to remain composed. “Well… all right.” She nodded slowly, her thoughts already swirling as she cast the guard a scrutinizing look. “Then lead the way.”

On cue, Glowing Shield spun around and marched stiffly down the hallway, as though he were a mechanical toy soldier. Twilight watched him, perplexed, for a moment, then quickly followed after him to keep up.

He led her down a side corridor, then into a grand hallway. The moment they turned the corner, Twilight recognized the tall windows and vaulted ceilings immediately. She’d suspected as much, but now she knew, she really was in Canterlot Castle. These halls were familiar to her, a place she had once called home. Yet something was different.

The corridors of Canterlot Castle had never been plain, but now they seemed overloaded with splendor and pomp. Gleaming gold decorations shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the large, artfully designed windows. The warm glow of the light danced upon the polished marble floors and reflected in chandeliers that hung from the ceiling like glass suns.

Where once the sky-blue flag of Equestria and banners bearing Celestia’s and Luna’s Cutie Marks had hung, now the same red banners Twilight had noticed before were everywhere. The angular, imposing sun symbol seemed to radiate overwhelming authority, like an untamed flame poised to consume everything.

The once lush floral arrangements and the colorful, playful designs that had once decorated the halls were gone. In their place were gleaming suits of armor, lavishly ornate swords, and expensive paintings in oversized golden frames. Twilight examined the details, each placed with precision, yet the overall effect was anything but comforting.

“Why does everything look so different?” she wondered, hesitating as she walked. The décor sent a clear message of domination.

While they walked through the corridors, Twilight noticed several maids going about their duties. Some were dusting paintings, others watering plants or polishing the immaculate marble tiles with near-mechanical precision.

Upon seeing Twilight, they froze, their eyes widening. For a moment, they stood as if petrified, as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Then they hastily bowed, lowering their heads so deeply it seemed almost exaggerated in its submissiveness. Twilight blinked in surprise at the odd behavior, her mind piling on more questions.

A thought dawned on her. If Glowing Shield was so determined not to tell her anything, maybe one of the maids would be less restrained. She let her gaze sweep over the bowed ponies and considered speaking to one of them. Her eyes finally settled on a young pink mare with a blue mane.

“Excuse me,” Twilight said kindly, stopping before one of the maids. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to answer a few of my questions, would you?”

The maid flinched, nearly dropping the feather duster she was holding. Her expression was tense, her eyes flicked briefly to the banners on the wall before returning to Twilight. “Of course, Your Highness,” she replied in a forced friendly tone, an anxious smile on her face. “What would you like to know?”

Twilight tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle as her eyes noted the maid’s tension. “Well, first of all, I’d like to know what happened to the castle. It looks like it was completely redecorated overnight.” Her words were calm, almost casual, but her mind was racing.

It’s obvious that this redesign is the work of Queen Daybreaker, she thought. If I can learn more about the changes, maybe I can learn something about her personality and how she seized power.

The maid swallowed and hesitated before she looked up at Twilight again. She seemed about to say something, but then her gaze flickered behind Twilight, where Glowing Shield stood on guard, trying to look inconspicuous. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his expression stern, almost warning.

“I… I’m afraid I can’t say, Your Highness,” the maid finally replied, her voice softer than before. “Perhaps… the Queen herself could answer your questions.”

Twilight felt a flare of frustration, but she forced herself to remain polite. “Of course,” she said with a small smile, though her mind was already running through other possibilities.

Daybreaker sat upon her golden throne, its design resembling an erupting sunrise, flame patterns running along the armrests that seemed to pulse with each of her breaths. Her massive wings were spread behind her like the shadows of a bird of prey, poised to strike. Her fiery mane blazed, tongues of flame flickering around her head and casting dancing shadows on the throne room walls.

Her golden, reptilian eyes bore down with merciless intensity on the pony before her. Her expression wavered somewhere between boredom and irritated patience, as though she’d already lost interest in the scene, yet every movement of her body radiated a tension, as if she might pounce like a predator at any moment.

“Well, let’s bring this farce to an end.” Daybreaker’s voice was calm, almost offhanded, yet it seemed to fill the entire room with her presence.

“Lord Crescent,” she began, elegantly crossing her forehooves as though this were merely a formal exercise, “you have been summoned here today because your house is suspected of being involved in the attack on the life of my Twilight.”

A barely audible murmur rippled through the chamber, but Daybreaker merely raised an eyebrow, and silence instantly returned. “Your house has been in a bitter feud with House Blueblood for two generations,” she continued, pausing slightly to let the words sink in. “And how many times have we heard your… concerns that Twilight, born a commoner, was personally trained by me?”

She leaned forward just a bit, her golden eyes glowing like embers beneath the surface. Her voice was an unsettling contrast, both sweet and cold at the same time. “It would be… elegant, wouldn’t it?” Her words hung like a snare in the air. “Killing two birds with one stone. A poison attack on my Twilight, so cunningly staged that House Blueblood would fall under suspicion.”

A heavy silence fell on the room, even the soft crackle of the torches on the walls seemed to have died away. Daybreaker let a dramatic pause linger, her lips curling into a dangerous smile. “And then the poisoned wine was served in a crystal glass,” she added softly, each syllable like a dagger, “manufactured by an artisanal workshop that has enjoyed your generous patronage for years.”

Before her throne knelt a noble stallion with white coat and a red mane. Sweat beaded on his brow as his breathing turned fast and irregular. He hardly dared to look up as he spoke in a trembling voice, “Your Majesty… I understand that my house has a valid motive for this… atrocity. But I assure you, we had nothing to do with this heinous act.”

He raised his head cautiously, his eyes pleading for mercy. “Whoever is behind this went to great lengths to plant false evidence to draw your investigation toward my house. It’s a clever diversion, to shift your attention away from themselves.”

“Perhaps,” Daybreaker mused, her voice almost casual as she leaned back into her throne. Her eyes, however, remained keenly focused on Lord Crescent, like a predator studying its prey. “Tell me, Lord Crescent…” she said, licking her lips.

“Why would someone commit such an assassination at such a public occasion?” Her tone was soft, almost contemplative, but the undertone was razor-sharp. “If someone merely wanted to murder Twilight, there are surely… more suitable opportunities. Ones with fewer witnesses. Don’t you agree?”

She raised an eyebrow, her mane flickering like flames in the wind, her words echoing off the walls. Her hooves idly toyed with a scroll, the gesture making her look more like a curious child than the deadly predator she truly was.

“Well…” The lord cleared his throat, his voice shaking slightly, though he tried to maintain a façade of calm. “I find it quite plausible that the perpetrator didn’t just want to kill Twilight and get away with it.” He paused briefly before adding cautiously, “They also wanted to deal a blow to House Blueblood. There are… many ponies who have a problem with House Blueblood.”

Daybreaker gave a quiet, almost amused laugh that was more of a hiss. “And how many of those ponies,” she began, her voice syrupy sweet but laced with danger, “had access to the banquet hall and also a motive to kill Princess Twilight?”

Her eyes glinted like molten gold as she leaned forward slightly, her wings shifting ever so slightly behind her. The temperature in the room seemed to rise with each word, as though the air itself were responding to her mood. “That’s an interesting question, isn’t it, Lord Crescent? Perhaps you can… help me find an answer?”

“Almost every major noble house was unhappy about Twilight Sparkle’s coronation,” the lord replied, his voice now a bit steadier, as if he had found some courage. “It could have been any one of them.”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow, a dangerous smile tugging at her lips. “Any one of them, you say?” she repeated slowly. “Maybe I should just punish every major family,” she mused aloud, as if seriously considering the idea. “That would be effective, wouldn’t it? Somewhere in this web of traitors, I’d find the culprit. A small price to pay for security, don't you think? "

Lord Crescent swallowed hard, his gaze flickering anxiously around the room, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Your Majesty, I… I’m certain it isn’t necessary to make the innocent suffer for the acts of a few.” His voice was strained, a desperate attempt at reason.

Daybreaker let out a soft laugh, somewhere between amusement and contempt. “Innocent?” She shook her head slowly, her mane flickering like living flames. “But just a moment ago, you claimed that every noble house would be prepared to betray the Crown and murder one of its princesses.”

She stood up slowly and deliberately, her wings majestically outspread as she descended the steps of her throne and covered the short distance to the kneeling stallion. Her hoofsteps echoed through the eerie silence of the throne room.

“Perhaps…” Her voice dropped, as though sharing a secret. “Perhaps I should make an example of your house. It might give the others reason to think twice, wouldn’t you say?”

Lord Crescent seemed to shrink in on himself, lowering his head further, his voice growing distinctly shakier. “Your Majesty, I beg you. You know my house stands loyal to the Crown. We would never… never seek to harm you. Whoever orchestrated this attack wasn’t just dissatisfied with Princess Twilight’s coronation, but…” He trailed off.

“…but?” Daybreaker’s voice cut through the air like a knife. She stood right before him, her golden eyes ablaze as she stared down at his trembling form. “Please, Lord Crescent, go on. Now that you’ve started, don’t hold back. That would be… disappointing.”

The noble swallowed audibly, his eyes searching the room in a silent plea for escape. “Your Majesty… this attack…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he seemed unable to continue. At last, he regained enough composure to speak, weak and trembling though it was. “Perhaps it was a mistake to crown Twilight Sparkle as a princess. It has greatly damaged your standing among the nobility. Perhaps this was a political statement… against this development…”

A loud, bone-rattling crack cut him off. Daybreaker had stomped a hoof on the marble so hard that it cracked into a web of deep fissures around her. The shockwave rippled through the room, making the torches on the walls flicker and casting the shadows of those present like dancing, living things. A collective gasp coursed through the guards and servants, but no one dared to move.

“A… mistake?” Daybreaker echoed, her voice so hushed it was barely a whisper. Her horn flared with golden magic, seizing the lord. Soot and burning embers rose from her nostrils, and her fiery mane flared like an unbridled inferno.

Her muzzle was only inches from his, the heat radiating from her scorching his skin. “You dare question my decisions, Crescent?” she hissed, each word as sharp as a blade.

With a violent flick of her horn, she flung him aside like a rag doll. He hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the hall, a pained groan escaping him. “You’re not even worth the dirt under my hooves!” she barked, her voice quivering with rage. “Your opinion and your reputation mean nothing to me!”

Lord Crescent tried to crawl away, but his shaking legs nearly gave out beneath him. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as he cowered under her scorching gaze. “Your Majesty, I only wanted to...”

“Silence!” Daybreaker’s voice thundered through the hall like an ominous storm cloud. The flames of her mane flared violently, and the floor beneath her seemed to tremble. “What interests me,” she went on, her tone dangerously soft, “is the insult to my dear Twilight.”

The stallion threw himself to the ground, pressing his forehead against the cracked marble. “Please, Your Majesty!” he begged, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it like that! I beg you, forgive my careless words!”

A laugh escaped Daybreaker, cold and hollow, like the howl of a winter storm. It was a sound that made the blood freeze in everypony’s veins. “Careless?” She bent down toward him, her voice a venomous whisper. “I’ll show you what careless truly means.”

Twilight followed Glowing Shield through the castle’s sprawling corridors, her mind racing. She repeatedly worked through potential scenarios for the upcoming meeting with this mysterious Daybreaker. Would she find answers, or should she be on guard? At the same time, she sketched out possible escape routes in her head. If she really is a usurper, I’ll need a way to reach Ponyville and my friends, she thought.

Her strategic ponderings were abruptly interrupted when a loud bang echoed through the halls. The noise was deep and resonant, accompanied by a faint tremor under her hooves. Twilight came to a sudden stop, her ears twitching as she peered down the corridor in the direction of the sound.

“What was that?” she asked decisively, turning to Glowing Shield, who had also paused. But before the guard could answer, Twilight felt her muscles tense. Her instinctive curiosity and growing concern outweighed any remaining caution.

Without waiting for a response, she broke into a light gallop, her hooves clattering over the marble floor. The corridor’s walls magnified the echo of her steps as she ran toward the source of the noise, the throne room. Glowing Shield called after her, but she paid him no mind.

If something’s happening here, I have to see for myself, she thought. I won’t waste time if someone might need my help.

With every step, the heat in the air intensified, and Twilight could hear the faint crackle of flames drifting down the corridor. The doors to the throne room lay ahead. She paused for a moment, her breathing heavy, her heart hammering with resolve.

Taking a final deep breath, Twilight pushed the heavy doors open with a flourish, the loud crash of their impact echoing off the walls. The sight before her looked like a nightmare: A tall, snow-white Alicorn with a blazing mane and sharp teeth stood over the broken figure of a noble, whose body was still aflame.

Twilight wanted to say something, but before she could utter a single sound, someone else spoke first.

“Twilight?” said the strange Alicorn, her voice filled with surprise and was that shock?

Before Twilight could reply, the Alicorn’s horn flared with blinding light, robbing Twilight of her vision.

“What…?” Twilight stumbled back slightly, rubbing at her eyes. “What was that?”

Daybreaker stood frozen, her thoughts spinning. Oh no, oh no, oh no! She can’t see this! Especially not as the first thing after she’s woken up!

She glanced down at the still-burning noble beneath her and felt her nervousness blossom into full-blown panic. She hastily started stomping out the flames on his body with her hooves, as though putting out a particularly stubborn carpet fire.

“Ow! Ow! Ouch!” Lord Crescent whimpered beneath her frantic stamping, his voice echoing through the throne room.

“Be quiet!” Daybreaker hissed, still sounding uneasy, and it didn’t help.

“This isn’t working! What do I do now? What do I do now?” Her eyes flicked anxiously to Twilight, who was still rubbing her eyes. With a final, desperate sigh, Daybreaker’s horn glowed again, and in a bright flash, she teleported the whimpering noble out of the hall.

As the flames and racket vanished, she forced a big, though far from convincing, smile onto her face. “Twilight!” she exclaimed, her tone slightly too high-pitched as she turned in an exaggerated motion to face the still-blinking Alicorn. “I’m so glad you’re finally awake!”

Twilight was still rubbing her eyes, trying desperately to recover her sight. “What… was that just now?” she mumbled, blinking at the blurred outlines around her.

Daybreaker was sweating on the inside, but kept her smile plastered on. “Oh, nothing, nothing! Just… uh… a tiny… misunderstanding. All under control!”

Twilight stared at Daybreaker’s face. She would recognize those gentle features anywhere, even if they were surrounded by a blazing mane and glowing eyes. “Celestia?” she asked, confusion and disbelief evident in her voice.

Daybreaker cleared her throat and raised her chin slightly, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “It’s Daybreaker now, my dear. But yes, it’s me.”

Twilight frowned, one eyebrow arched doubtfully. “Was that just now… a burning noblepony?”

Daybreaker froze for a fraction of a second before wiping her forehead with a hoof. “A burning noblepony?” she echoed, her voice an octave too high. “Oh, no, I didn’t see anything like that.”

Twilight’s skeptical gaze didn’t waver, and Daybreaker couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Instead, she abruptly turned to one of the guards standing at the edge of the room, her mane flickering ominously. “How about you?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet but undeniably sharp.

The guard, a pale-gray Pegasus, flinched visibly before saluting hastily. “No, Your Majesty!” he blurted far too quickly and far too loudly.

Twilight’s gaze flicked between Daybreaker and the guard, then back again. Narrowing her eyes, she wore a wry smile. “Aha. Riiight… so…”

Daybreaker forced another wide grin, as nervous as ever. “You must’ve meant that old carpet that… uh… suddenly caught fire.”

Twilight slowly shook her head, her brow still furrowed. “A carpet, huh?” she asked, half convinced, half suspicious.

Daybreaker’s ears perked, her forced grin widening even more. “Yes, a carpet! Hideous thing, really. No big loss.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “But I’m sure you have more pressing questions than some old carpet, right?”

Twilight tilted her head, her eyes never leaving Daybreaker’s face. “More pressing questions, yes…” she murmured. “Like why I suddenly feel as though there’s a lot more going on than you’re telling me.”

Daybreaker’s smile went rigid, her mane flickering nervously, and for a moment it seemed as if the entire room was holding its breath. Before Twilight could ask another question, Glowing Shield suddenly appeared behind her, out of breath and looking both anxious and annoyed.

“Your Majesty,” he began, saluting shakily, “I’m sorry. She ran off when she heard a loud bang. I couldn’t stop her.”

Daybreaker slowly turned, fixing the guard with a piercing stare. Flames licked around her mane, and the temperature in the hall seemed to rise again. “R-ran off?” she repeated softly, her voice dangerously sweet.

Glowing Shield unconsciously took a step back, ears flat against his head as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, Your Majesty… She was very determined. And… fast.”

Twilight turned toward him, a gentle smile forming on her lips despite her furrowed brow. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you trouble,” she said kindly, which clearly took Glowing Shield by surprise. “But now I’m here… so, thank you.”

Glowing Shield blinked, unsure how to respond to such sudden courtesy. “Uh… of course, Your Highness,” he stammered, saluting hastily.

Daybreaker let out a short, tense laugh that rang out sharply in the hall’s silence. “Glowing Shield, your… zeal is appreciated,” she said in a syrupy tone, though her eyes never left him. “But you can go now. I can take care of Twilight myself.”

The guard saluted again, faster this time, and quickly turned. His steps were almost a gallop as he headed for safety, and the heavy throne room doors slammed shut behind him with a reverberating thud.

Twilight watched him for a moment longer, then slowly turned back to Daybreaker. “That was interesting,” she said dryly.

“Wasn’t it?” Daybreaker smiled again, her stance seemingly relaxed, though a perceptive eye would have noticed the tension in her shoulders. “But now… where were we?”

Author's Note

Since the prologue was so well received, I tried to get the first chapter ready for you as quickly as possible. I hope you like what I've written here. Let me know your thoughts and opinions.

Have a happy new year

Chapter 2

Twilight stared at Daybreaker for a moment, feeling that something about her was… off. It wasn’t the blazing mane or the imposing armor, though both were certainly unsettling. No, it was something deeper. It lay in the way Daybreaker smiled. That far-too-broad grin, so deliberately innocent. Combined with the friendly gleam in her draconic eyes, it felt downright surreal.

“You were about to answer some of my questions,” Twilight began, her tone dry and her gaze as serious as she could manage, “like… why you’re calling yourself Daybreaker now. Or why the guard introduced you as a Queen. Or what’s going on with the flaming mane and the new regalia.”

Daybreaker let out a soft, melodic laugh and tilted her head slightly. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence as she rose onto the tips of her hooves and struck an exaggerated catwalk pose.

Twilight rolled her eyes, her deadpan stare showing no amusement whatsoever. “You’re not seriously trying to tell me this is all just a… makeover, are you?”

“Well,” Daybreaker said, pressing a hoof to her chin, “you should have seen me trying to get this hairstyle under control. Believe me, Twilight, magical fire is an absolute nightmare.”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but the words got stuck. Magical fire. Of course. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, I’d love to see how you’d handle waking up with a mane of flames,” Daybreaker retorted in a mock-offended tone. Her fiery mane flickered irritably as she noticed Twilight’s exasperated expression. Then she sighed, exhaling sharply. “Fine. You really don’t have a sense of humor, Twilight.”

Without further remark, Daybreaker walked past her, her hoofsteps echoing in the lofty, chilly silence of the corridor. “Come,” she said, throwing a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “I’ll show you around and explain everything.”

Twilight watched her for a few more seconds before shaking off her hesitation with a sigh. Her mind caught up with her, and she trotted after Daybreaker, quickening her pace to close the distance between them.

“So? What exactly happened here?” Twilight asked, nodding toward the new décor lining the hallway. Golden reliefs depicting flames and suns stretched along the walls, and the heavy drapes gleamed a deep red that almost looked like blood. “It’s all so… showy. Like Blueblood took over the interior design.”

Daybreaker stopped, turning around slowly, regarding Twilight with a mix of mock hurt and amusement. “Wow. Of all the insulting things you could have said, you chose undoubtedly the most hurtful,” she said with a playful grin.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Well, you did say I don’t get jokes,” she replied dryly.

Daybreaker shook her head and let out a melodic laugh as she resumed walking. “Touché, Twilight. Touché.”

Twilight kept following but remained on guard. “Seriously, though. Why all this? You realize these decorations come off more intimidating than impressive, right?”

Daybreaker paused for a moment, studying the golden walls and the glowing red carpet before answering with a shrug, “Intimidation is just a word, Twilight. Strength is a promise. And strength is what Equestria needs right now.”

Twilight frowned, but before she could say anything, Daybreaker held up a hoof to silence her. “I’ll explain everything, Twilight. One thing at a time.” Her voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was an undeniable tension beneath it.

“You see,” Daybreaker began after a short pause, “at your coronation banquet, there was an attempt on your life.” She said the words with an ominous clarity that sent a shiver through Twilight. “Someone,” she continued, her voice turning venomous, “poisoned the wine served to you.”

The flames of her mane flared briefly, a sign of her barely contained rage. Twilight blinked and involuntarily took a step back. “Poisoned?” she echoed quietly, trying to grasp the implications. Her heart began to pound faster.

Daybreaker nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Twilight. “Yes, poisoned. You have no idea how it felt, Twilight, seeing you lying there like that…” She paused, her voice faltering for a second before she found it again. “I was beside myself with grief and fury. I was ready to turn the one responsible to ash on the spot.” She sighed. “However, the true culprit remains unknown.”

“Well,” Twilight began thoughtfully, “I remember that the waiter who gave me the wine was wearing House Blueblood’s crest. That much I recall.” Her voice was calm, though strained with tension.

Daybreaker turned slowly to Twilight, an unexpectedly mild smile on her lips. “As much as I’d love a reason to throw Blueblood in chains, Twilight, he’s innocent as far as I know.” She sounded almost disappointed, as though she had considered the idea briefly before dismissing it. “At least, he’s no guiltier than the other noble families.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow at that last comment. Daybreaker continued, “Turns out, the wine meant for you was stolen a few days before the banquet by an unknown intruder. Also,” she added as she walked on, “we found that waiter’s jacket, torn to shreds in an alley. And nopony in Blueblood’s entourage ever met anyone matching the waiter’s description.”

Twilight frowned. “Well, they could be lying.”

Daybreaker stopped and gave her a long, piercing look. Her eyes, gleaming like molten gold, suddenly felt cold despite the flames surrounding her. “Trust me, Twilight,” she said in a tone that made Twilight’s skin prickle, “those ponies weren’t lying. You can be certain of that.”

Twilight swallowed hard and slowly nodded, unsure why Daybreaker’s words unnerved her so much, whether it was her tone, her phrasing, or the unspoken threat beneath it. “I see…” she said uneasily.

Suddenly, Daybreaker’s expression changed. The oppressive tension vanished, replaced by a friendly smile that did nothing to put Twilight at ease. “Good,” she said brightly, as though nothing had happened. “Now, where was I…” She tapped her chin with a hoof, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling in thought. “Ah, yes.”

Her eyes sparkled as she went on, “Anyway, the attempt on your life had greater consequences than you may realize. You’re an alicorn now, Twilight. A princess. A force of nature. Sacred.” Her tone grew solemn. “This was a direct attack on the Crown, no, on our entire form of government. Something like this hasn’t happened for more than a thousand years.”

Twilight felt her stomach tighten, but she did not dare interrupt.

“The ponies were unsettled,” Daybreaker continued, her voice echoing softly off the walls as they walked on. “If something like that could happen to an alicorn in the middle of a public event, who was safe at all? The nobility, useless as ever, wasted time blaming each other for the crime instead of doing anything to calm the rising panic.”

Daybreaker stopped and turned to Twilight. Her eyes looked almost gentle, but her words were anything but. “Ponies began losing faith in our government. Rumors spread that the nobles took you out because I could no longer keep the great families under control.” She let the silence hang for a moment to emphasize her point.

Twilight swallowed. “And that led to…?”

Daybreaker sighed, her mane flickering restlessly. “It took less than two weeks before conflicts began to break out between the supporters of various noble families and my loyalists. Some nobles saw it as an opportunity to expand their power.” She lifted her chin, regal and firm. “I can still picture their smug grins when they proposed giving the Council of Nobles more authority to appease their followers,” she spat bitterly. “Meanwhile, many ponies started to question my ability to rule. How can I protect a country, Twilight, if I can’t even protect those closest to me?”

Twilight held her breath. Daybreaker paused briefly, then went on. “It wasn’t just an attack on you. It was an attack on everything I stand for, an attack on the legitimacy of my reign.”

Twilight blinked, perplexed. “I never imagined it would take so little for ponies to lose faith in you.”

Daybreaker snorted dismissively and started walking again. “Fear is powerful, Twilight. More powerful than trust, experience, or reason,” she said, her voice brimming with bitterness, but also conviction. Leading Twilight to a large, imposing painting that covered nearly the entire wall, Daybreaker stopped in front of it.

The artwork depicted an army of golden warrior-ponies, their armor gleaming under a stylized sun. They marched in perfect formation across rolling hills, their sun banners held high, their faces filled with fierce determination. Twilight studied it with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Daybreaker pointed to the painting. “I had to keep Equestria together,” she said, her voice calm yet resolute. “I had to ensure security and stability in the government. So my first step was to dissolve the Council of Nobles and strip the noble families of their political power. It was necessary, to restore stability and show that the nobility holds no power over me.”

Twilight stared at Daybreaker, eyes wide. She didn’t care much for the nobility, most of them were pompous airheads who cared more about influence than the good of the nation. Still, overturning a thousand-year-old government structure was no small matter.

“And then?” she asked softly, her voice hesitant.

Daybreaker closed her eyes briefly, as though weighing her next words. “Next, I increased the Royal Guard’s presence. I called more guards into active service and expanded our military ranks. Something had to be done, Twilight. Ponies needed to feel safe again. They needed to see that I could protect them. That I was taking action.”

Twilight studied Daybreaker as she spoke. It was hard to tell whether what she heard was more conviction or a hint of underlying uncertainty.

“And that worked?” she finally asked, keeping her tone neutral, almost cautious.

Daybreaker turned slowly to face her, flames flickering as though in response to the question. “It worked, Twilight. Ponies took heart again. They know now that Equestria has strong leadership.” Her voice carried growing intensity, and a note of pride. “I reunited the ponies of Equestria, encouraged them to stick together, restored harmony, and gave them something to believe in.”

“Something to believe in?” Twilight repeated softly, casting her gaze toward the painting.

Daybreaker nodded, her eyes shining as she regarded the artwork. “Yes. Do you see this painting? It’s a tribute to the unity I seek. If we all work together, Twilight, there’s no goal too distant and no threat too great. Our ponies need to feel strong again.”

Twilight let her eyes roam across the painting. The golden warriors with their raised weapons and determined, almost angry, expressions seemed anything but harmonious. She could practically feel the tension in their faces, the urge to fight something, or prove themselves. “Unity… sure,” she murmured, sounding anything but convinced.

Daybreaker turned to her, eyes keen. Before she could speak, Twilight asked the question that had been on her mind for a while. “You talk all the time about the things you’ve done. What about Luna?”

For a moment, Daybreaker’s expression was unreadable. Then she rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated snort. “My sister didn’t approve of the path I took,” she said, her tone colored by both resignation and annoyance. “She couldn’t understand that I had to leave behind the gentle princess routine and take a more active role. Be closer to my ponies.”

Twilight frowned. “So what did she do?”

Daybreaker shrugged as though it were nothing. “She eventually left for the Crystal Empire. She wanted… distance.”

“And your new appearance, the name, your title?” Twilight asked hesitantly.

Daybreaker stood up and took a few steps further, then threw Twilight an impish glance over her shoulder before moving on again. Twilight watched as Daybreaker gave a little shake of her flank, a playful chuckle rumbling in her throat. “Come on, Twilight. I can see you’re enjoying the view, but there’s still so much I want to show you.”

Twilight felt her face grow hot. “What?” she stammered, her voice a bit too high. “I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking…”

“Of course not,” Daybreaker cut her off with a smirk. “I’d believe you, if your adorably flushed cheeks weren’t telling me otherwise.”

Twilight snorted and hurried to catch up, cheeks still burning. “At least your sense of humor hasn’t changed… nor your terrible timing for jokes.”

Daybreaker rolled her eyes theatrically, her mane flaring slightly. “My jokes are always impeccably timed, my dear. You’re simply too stiff for your own good. I’d reprimand you… if it weren’t so cute.”

Twilight almost tripped, feeling her face grow even warmer. “Could we please get back on topic?” she managed at last.

Daybreaker let out a melodic laugh and kept walking. “Of course, of course,” she said eventually. “My new name and title are merely symbols of a new era. I am no longer Princess Celestia, who let the nobility walk all over her and lost her subjects’ trust because she spent all day eating cake instead of helping her little ponies.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

Daybreaker grinned broadly. “No, my dear, though you can still call me that if you like. But now I’m Queen Daybreaker, highest ruler, judge, and enforcer.” She lifted a hoof dramatically, striking a pose as if she were an ancient statue.

At the word “enforcer,” Twilight flinched, her eyes darting uneasily to Daybreaker’s blazing mane, which suddenly seemed to flare brighter.

Noticing Twilight’s reaction, Daybreaker smiled wryly. “Oh, don’t be like that. I still enjoy cake, you know.” She winked at Twilight, then led her through a grand, ornately decorated doorway.

Beyond lay the palace’s dining hall. A long table draped in pristine white cloth stretched the length of the room, whose walls were adorned with gold trim and flame motifs. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling. “Speaking of cake, I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely starving.”

“Well, for my part, I’d rather keep talking about your new regime, if you don’t mind,” Twilight said, cautious but firm, taking a seat on the far side of the long table and watching Daybreaker intently. “For instance, what about my friends? Thinking about it, they surely would have stepped up as the Elements of Harmony during times like these. Especially if the ponies were as divided as you say.”

Daybreaker sighed quietly, leaning back in her chair with a look of discomfort. “There’s no easy way to say this.” She paused, meeting Twilight’s eyes. “Your friends ended up just as divided as the rest of Equestria.”

Twilight’s eyes widened in shock. “My friends… What happened?” Her voice sounded thin, barely above a whisper.

Daybreaker sighed again, more heavily this time, letting her gaze wander over the table as though searching for the right words. “It’s not as bad as you might think,” she began slowly. “When the unrest started, all five of them tried to calm everypony down. They set an example, just as I expected from them.”

Twilight held her breath as Daybreaker continued. “But their efforts fell on deaf ears. It didn’t help that the attack singled you out, you, the leader of the Element Bearers. Ponies saw it as a sign that the old order had failed.”

Daybreaker paused briefly, then went on. “Only when I established my new rule did your friends start to differ in their opinions. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were relieved to see me handling the situation. They approved of my measures.”

Twilight swallowed hard. “And the others?” she asked softly, resting her forehooves on the table.

Daybreaker sighed, her expression gentler now. “Rarity and Pinkie Pie found my new rules too extreme. They felt it was too restrictive. Along with Luna, they decided to leave Equestria and move to the Crystal Empire.”

Twilight looked down, as if the words weighed heavily on her. “And Fluttershy?”

“Fluttershy stayed in Ponyville,” Daybreaker said, giving Twilight a gentle smile. “Along with Applejack and Rainbow Dash.” She hesitated, then added, “But it could be worse. Even if your friends went their separate ways, their friendship hasn’t been destroyed by all this.”

Twilight gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought. I have to talk to my friends. Hear their side of the story. Only then can I figure out what’s really going on. Daybreaker isn’t telling me everything, and she was awfully vague about their disagreements. But I don’t want to push her too far or she might stop answering my questions altogether.

A soft tapping on the marble floor pulled her from her thoughts. A pony in a perfectly pressed butler’s uniform approached the table, moving with fluid precision. He carried a silver tray holding two steaming cups.

“Your Majesty,” said the butler with a deep nod toward Daybreaker before turning to Twilight. “Princess Sparkle.”

Twilight blinked, then gave an awkward nod. “Uh, thank you.”

The butler set the cups gently on the table. “A special herbal tea to help you relax. I hope it meets with your approval.”

“How thoughtful,” Daybreaker said with an amused smile, lifting her cup. She turned it slightly in her magical grasp, causing the liquid inside to shimmer like molten gold. “You’ll see, Twilight, here they’ll anticipate your every wish.”

Twilight reached for her own cup, though her thoughts were still elsewhere. The steam rose in gentle spirals, but instead of taking a sip, she just stared at the cup, wide-eyed.

Daybreaker took a sip of her own tea and let the warmth linger briefly, then noticed Twilight’s reluctance. “Something wrong, Twilight?” she asked, a mix of curiosity and faint concern in her tone.

Twilight jumped slightly, then shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s nothing… I just,” she began, then paused, searching for the right words. “I’m probably worrying over nothing, but the last time a butler showed up unannounced with a drink for me… well.”

A shadow flickered across Daybreaker’s face, and for an instant she looked guilty. She lowered her cup back onto the table and fixed Twilight with an expression free of her usual playful superiority. “Twilight… I’m sorry. I wanted to treat you to a relaxing visit to the dining hall, not scare you.” Her voice was quiet, almost gentle, and her flames seemed muted for that moment.

Twilight gave her a long look before managing a small smile. “It’s not your fault. I’m just… not quite myself yet.”

Daybreaker nodded understandingly. “That’s fine. It’ll take time. But you’re safe here, Twilight. With me.” Her voice was soothing, almost pleading. She lifted her cup again, her eyes not leaving Twilight’s. “You have to believe me.”

She took another sip but didn’t break eye contact. Then, with a curt gesture, she called the butler back toward her and Twilight. “You,” she said sharply, pointing a hoof at him. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Taste it.”

With a soft hum of magic, she lifted a tiny droplet of Twilight’s steaming tea into the air, letting it hover in front of the butler’s muzzle.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said the butler with practiced calm, lowering his head slightly. He opened his mouth and allowed the droplet to settle on his tongue.

Twilight held her breath, watching the scene with taut nerves. For a moment, it felt as if the walls were closing in, each breath too loud by a fraction. But the butler remained serene and still until Daybreaker finally announced, with a satisfied smile, “Very good.”

Twilight exhaled in relief, and Daybreaker settled back into her chair. “Bring me and Lady Twilight a slice of red velvet cake, then you’re dismissed.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the butler repeated, bowing lightly before turning to leave with measured, graceful steps. The door closed softly behind him.

Daybreaker turned her gaze on Twilight, smiling knowingly. “Satisfied?” she asked, her tone once again playful.

Twilight couldn’t help but return a small smile. “That was… thorough.”

Daybreaker laughed quietly, lifting her cup again. “If you think I take my ponies’ trust lightly, Twilight, then you don’t know me at all.”

Twilight raised her own cup to her lips, taking a small sip and feeling the gentle, soothing warmth ease some of her tension, if only for a moment. The thought lingering in her mind caused her to set the cup down gently. “I’ve been thinking. I’d like to visit my friends.”

Daybreaker nodded, her smile almost warm. “Of course. It shouldn’t be a problem for you to see your friends in Ponyville.”

“All of my friends,” Twilight interjected, cutting Daybreaker off, her voice calm but insistent.

Daybreaker’s eyebrow arched, her smile fading. “Out of the question. The Crystal Empire is far away and has isolated itself from Equestria entirely. They’ve severed all cooperation with us.”

Twilight managed a faint smile, pleased with the small revelation. At least now I know what Cadance and Shining Armor think about her new way of ruling. She leaned forward slightly. “I’ve been to the Crystal Empire before, and it’s ruled by my brother and sister-in-law. I’ll be safe there.”

Daybreaker snorted softly, shaking her head. “No. The train route is gone. You’d have to travel on hoof through the icy north, crossing the no-pony’s-land between Equestria and the Empire. Lawless rogues dwell there. I won’t allow it.”

Twilight felt her pulse quicken. She stared back at Daybreaker. “You say that like I can’t defend myself.”

“Because you can’t,” Daybreaker replied without hesitation. Her voice was unwavering, almost hard. “When you became an alicorn, your body and your magic changed. In a sense, you’re a child all over again. And until you’ve learned to control your new magic, I forbid you from even thinking about the Crystal Empire.”

Twilight drew a deep breath, her mind racing. She knew Daybreaker had a point, but the idea of staying put while her friends were scattered elsewhere felt so wrong. She opened her mouth to argue, but Daybreaker abruptly stood up, her mane blazing ominously.

“I understand you’re worried about your friends, Twilight. But I won’t put you in danger just because you’re too stubborn to listen,” she said, calm yet edged with finality.

Twilight’s hooves clenched under the table. This won’t be the end of this conversation, she thought, meeting Daybreaker’s eyes without blinking.

“But if you’re so eager to see your friends,” Daybreaker said with a sharp smile, “we can start your training tomorrow.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, eyeing Daybreaker warily. “What kind of training?”

The day wore on, and Twilight felt fatigue creeping into her limbs. It was hard to believe it had been just one day, one day full of revelations that had rocked her world. Daybreaker led her back to the room in which she had awakened that morning and held the door open with a gentle spell.

“Well, here we are,” Daybreaker said with a trace of satisfaction in her voice. “Your room.”

Twilight stepped inside and collapsed onto the bed with a weary sigh. “Indeed,” she murmured, letting her gaze wander over the walls. She recalled the protective spells and found a small smile on her lips. “And… thank you.”

Daybreaker was about to head out when her left ear twitched. She stopped, turned back around, and looked at Twilight with mild surprise. “What did you just say?”

Twilight lifted her head to meet her eyes, a mischievous twinkle there. “I said thank you, you glowing fool.”

Daybreaker arched an eyebrow, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Thank me for what?”

Twilight’s smile was genuine, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “For looking out for me.”

Daybreaker smiled back, mischief shining in her eyes. “You know, if you really want me to look out for you, this bed is big enough for two…”

A pillow flew through the air, hitting Daybreaker square in the face before she could finish. “Okay, okay, I get it,” she laughed, lifting her hooves in surrender. “I’m leaving already.” She shut the door behind her, leaving Twilight alone.

Twilight let herself sink back into the soft pillows and pulled the blanket over herself. “This bed’s comfortable, but…” she murmured, running a foreleg over the other, “it’s a bit cold. A thicker comforter wouldn’t hurt.” With that thought, she closed her eyes, letting sleep finally overtake her.

The next morning, Twilight awoke feeling wonderfully warm. She blinked drowsily and nudged the thick down comforter upward with her left hoof to burrow deeper into its soft feathers. The warmth enveloped her like a soothing embrace, and for a moment, she let herself simply drift.

Then a thought stirred in her half-asleep mind. Something was wrong. She was certain that last night she definitely didn’t have a thick, warm down comforter.

A faint murmur slipped from her lips as she slowly opened one eye. Her gaze fell on something large and white, and moving. A wing.

Twilight froze, her heart skipping a beat before hammering against her chest. She stared at the flawless white wing rising and falling ever so slightly, moving in time with its owner’s breath.

Author's Note

I know that was a lot of dialog and exposition. But next time there will be more action and drama. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Chapter 3

Twilight lay nestled in her bed, her head resting on a large velvet pillow. The curtains were drawn, but the chirping of the first birds hinted that morning was near. It was still early; the sun hadn’t risen yet. Draped over her was a large, fluffy wing that enveloped her like a warm blanket. Twilight’s mind raced.

Daybreaker.

Her heart pounded faster as her brain processed the information. The powerful, possibly insane Sun Goddess was lying right behind her, with a protective wing draped around her. Twilight could feel Daybreaker’s calm, rhythmic breathing against the back of her neck, steady, almost soothing. She could even smell it. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell like ash or sulfur but rather of mint and strawberries. Her mane flickered gently, the embers dancing in a steady rhythm and casting a warm light in the darkness of the room.

Stay calm, Twilight, she admonished herself as a nervous tremor spread through her body. This is totally normal. A dangerous goddess has decided your bed is her new favorite spot. No reason to panic. Perfectly normal, it happens to everypony at some point.

Her thoughts spiraled as she feverishly wondered what to do. Sneak away? Confront her directly? Who am I kidding? This is anything but normal. But maybe if I just… carefully get up…

Slowly, painfully slowly, Twilight began inching toward the edge of the bed. Only now did she realize how heavy that wing actually was. She clenched her teeth, muscles tensed. Just a bit more… almost there…

A faint creak, perhaps from the mattress, made her freeze. She held her breath, eyes fixed straight ahead. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, but everything stayed quiet. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, Twilight resumed her cautious retreat. Just a little more…

“Eeeaap!” Twilight let out a sharp squeak as Daybreaker suddenly shifted. Before she could even think of escaping, she felt a muscular foreleg wrap around her and pull her against the alicorn’s searingly warm chest with disquieting ease. The heat radiated through her coat, and the strength of that embrace knocked the wind out of her for a moment. She felt like a stuffed toy clutched by a sleeping child, only that this “child” was a potentially dangerous war demon.

Twilight froze. Her heart hammered wildly as she desperately tried to figure out what to do next. Okay, so I guess I’m stuck lying here until she wakes up. The resigned realization was oddly comforting, and she forced herself to breathe deeply.

Then she heard it: a soft, rhythmic sound, hardly more than a whisper in the stillness. Daybreaker was snoring. Twilight blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a thunderous snore, but more of a gentle, almost peaceful noise, like you’d expect from a sleeping puppy, or, apparently, from a solar goddess.

It might even have been cute if said alicorn didn’t look like she could turn entire armies to ash with one glare. Twilight risked a brief glance at the sleeping face above her. With closed eyes and a relaxed expression, Daybreaker looked strangely… vulnerable. The contrast to her usual menacing aura was almost comical.

Twilight stifled a nervous giggle. Okay, I admit she looks kind of adorable when she’s asleep… for an oversized fire monster, anyway.

Just when she was starting to relax, she felt one of Daybreaker’s large primary feathers brush against her nose. A slight itch spread through her nostrils, and her breathing started to change uncontrollably. Panic surged in her. Oh no, no, no, no!

Twilight realized what was about to happen and tried desperately to stop it. She pressed her hooves against her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and held her breath. But it was too late.

“HAA-tschi!” A high-pitched sneeze shattered the morning silence.

Twilight went rigid, eyes locked on the ceiling as her heart raced. “M-maybe… maybe she didn’t hear it,” she whispered hopefully.

“Who didn’t hear what?” asked a familiar voice right behind her, practically dripping with curious amusement.

Twilight gulped, not daring to turn around. “Uh… what are you doing in my bed?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

Daybreaker withdrew a little, her mane glowing gently in the dim light as she sat up. “Straight to the point, hmm? Not even a polite ‘good morning.’”

Twilight rolled her eyes, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Is there a particular reason I woke up in bed with you?”

Daybreaker grinned mischievously, her teeth flashing in the half-light. “What’s the big deal? When you were a filly, you crawled into my bed all the time.”

Twilight’s face instantly turned red. “I was seven and having nightmares!”

“And I can’t have nightmares?” Daybreaker replied in feigned indignation.

Twilight stared at her in disbelief. “I was afraid of monsters in my closet! I’m sure the only reason monsters would hide in your closet is that they’re afraid of you!” Her voice got louder with each word, until she was nearly shouting. “And you’re definitely not seven!”

Daybreaker smirked and leaned back, her fiery mane swirling lightly as though entertained by Twilight’s outburst. But then her smile faded, and her golden eyes softened. “All right, you’ve caught me.” Her voice suddenly went quieter, almost hesitant. “The truth is…” She paused, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, so brief Twilight almost missed it.

“Ever since the attack, I’ve been worried about you,” Daybreaker finally continued, her words slower and more measured than before. “I spent every night here by your side, hoping you would wake up. So that…” She dropped her gaze for a moment, as though struggling with herself. “So that I’d be the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.”

Twilight stared at her, unable to speak. There it was again, that vulnerable look that seemed so at odds with the powerful, intimidating figure she usually presented. It was as if Daybreaker had taken off her impenetrable armor for just a second and what lay underneath took Twilight’s breath away. Come to think of it, Daybreaker actually isn’t wearing any armor right now…

“That’s… actually pretty sweet,” Twilight finally whispered, feeling her cheeks flush. She searched Daybreaker’s gaze, and as their eyes met, Twilight saw a strange mixture of pride and shame that she couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Daybreaker jumped out of bed. Her mane flared brightly, and she put on a smile that felt almost a bit too forced. She lifted her chin, clearly trying to hide her own reddening cheeks. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake again, Twilight! Shall we begin our day? I have quite a lot planned.”

Twilight blinked, momentarily thrown by Daybreaker’s abrupt change in mood. She suppressed a quiet sigh. And she’s back, back to her usual ‘new’ self. “Sure, why not,” she murmured, sliding slowly off the bed.

About ten minutes later, Twilight and Daybreaker were sitting in the dining hall, which was swathed in a subdued light. Only some of the chandelier’s candles were lit, and their flickering flames cast long shadows on the ornately decorated walls. The atmosphere was unexpectedly calm, almost cozy, as though the world had stopped for a moment.

In front of each alicorn sat a large plate of fresh, golden-brown waffles that were still steaming slightly. Next to them were small bowls filled with steaming hot cherries, whose sweet-tart aroma filled the air, and a bowl of oat-based whipped cream. Twilight cast a cautious sidelong glance at Daybreaker, who was sipping tea and seemed lost in thought.

“This… looks really good,” Twilight finally said, her stomach growling softly at the sight. She picked up a fork, carefully cutting into the golden-brown waffle pieces, trying to keep the unusual silence from becoming awkward.

“I did say you’d be spoiled here,” Daybreaker replied with a smug smile. “Only the best for my Twily.”

Twilight paused, giving her a look of mild annoyance. “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled. “Only my brother gets to call me that.”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow and cocked her head slightly. “Whatever you say, Bookhorse.”

Twilight glared daggers at her, a look that would probably have killed a lesser pony. Daybreaker froze for a split second, as though momentarily reminded of her own mortality, and began to sweat nervously. “I mean Twilight, of course…” Suddenly, her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe Twiggles? Or Twi Twi? May I call you Twi Twi, Twilight?”

Twilight snorted and let out an overly dramatic sigh. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her forelegs in front of her chest. “But you can try ‘Twi.’”

Daybreaker pursed her lips in mock contemplation, tapping her chin as though seriously considering it. “Your proposal has been noted and is under review.” A short pause followed, then she declared, “Proposal rejected. I’ll stick with Twilight.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, this time with a small smile. It’s absurd how many times I’ve rolled my eyes in the last 24 hours.

“So,” Twilight began, taking another bite of waffle. She chewed slowly, choosing her words before continuing. “Yesterday, you mentioned something about training?”

Daybreaker swallowed a bite of her own waffle, then licked her lips. “Right,” she said at last, flashing a self-satisfied grin. A few drops of cherry sauce dribbled down her muzzle, leaving red trails that looked almost like blood in the flickering candlelight. Twilight involuntarily shivered at the image, even though she knew it was just her imagination.

“As I mentioned,” Daybreaker went on, “your body and your magic changed drastically when you became an alicorn.” Her eyes flicked momentarily to Twilight’s wings, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “You’ve got… some very soft wings now,” she mumbled before clearing her throat and sounding more authoritative again. “And you also have access to Earth Pony and Pegasus magic.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Earth Pony magic? You mean stuff like… making plants grow?”

Daybreaker giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, it goes way beyond that. Earth Ponies draw their strength from a bond with nature. You might notice you now have incredible physical resilience, and who knows? Maybe you actually can make plants grow faster one day.” Her eyes shone mischievously. “Or at least grow something. Spike did mention he’d never met a pony with a hoof as black as yours.”

Twilight grimaced. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And then there’s your magical potential,” Daybreaker continued, undeterred. “Both your capacity and your maximum power output should have increased dramatically.” She paused, giving Twilight a thoughtful look. “When Luna ascended, even the type of her magic changed. Who knows what might happen with you.”

Twilight put down her fork and leaned back, brow furrowed. “Magic type?”

Daybreaker nodded, sounding almost like a teacher who’d been waiting for that question. “Yes, magic type. You know, the branch of magic you have an innate affinity for. For instance, there’s Emission Magic, casters who channel large amounts of magic at once, creating broad-scale effects. Like me.” She grinned, clearly proud of herself.

“Then there’s Manipulation, magicians who are masters of altering their surroundings. They excel in illusions, for example. A certain light-blue unicorn you once wrote me about might fall under that category, oh, what was her name? Anyway.”

Twilight lifted an eyebrow as Daybreaker continued, “Then we have Preservation, magicians with a knack for healing and protective spells. Your brother or Cadance are perfect examples of that. Next is Cognition. Cognition-type magicians specialize in mental magic and rituals, and they’re pretty rare. Luna is one of them.”

Daybreaker’s voice grew more energetic. “Finally, we have Conduction. These magicians don’t have a natural affinity for any specific branch of magic. For them, learning new spells is often grueling and resource-intensive. But they can develop extraordinary precision and versatility. The most famous Conduction-type mage was Star Swirl the Bearded.”

Leaning back, looking satisfied, Daybreaker threw Twilight a pointed stare. “Seriously, did you not pay attention in my lessons?”

Twilight shot her a deadly serious, sarcasm-laden look. “I might have been sleeping in somepony else’s bed,” she said ironically. “Of course I know about magic types, Daybreaker. I just didn’t expect that ascending to alicornhood might change one’s type.”

Daybreaker smirked, shrugging. “Life is full of surprises, Twi Twi. You used to be Conduction, but we’ll...”

A sudden coughing fit interrupted her. Twilight lurched forward, gripping the edge of the table as she fought for air. Tears welled in her eyes as her cheeks turned red. Daybreaker reacted instantly, bounding over the table with a single wingbeat and reaching Twilight’s side in an instant. She patted Twilight firmly on the back until a small cherry pit finally popped out of her mouth and landed on the table.

Twilight wiped her eyes and took deep breaths, her voice rasping. “Oh, that was close.”

“It was,” Daybreaker murmured, her voice oddly subdued. Her golden eyes rested on Twilight, but it was as if she were gazing right through her.

Unbidden, the memories came rushing back, the visions she’d tried so hard to suppress. The banquet. Twilight suddenly gasping for breath and collapsing to the floor. The stunned silence, then the screams. Daybreaker had held her in her hooves, feeling Twilight’s pulse slow, the life draining from her body. Her own tears had burned away in her fury as she screamed in rage and grief until her throat bled. The recollection of Twilight’s pale, vacant eyes was burned into her mind like a searing brand.

Daybreaker blinked, and suddenly she was back in the dining hall. Her fiery mane flickered restlessly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “I… I’ll get you a glass of water,” she said softly, her voice subdued, picking up the cherry pit before leaving the room.

Twilight watched her go, brow creased in concern. “Daybreaker?” She got no answer, only the fading echo of hoofsteps on marble.

A meditative calm pervaded the kitchen. It was still early morning, and only a small portion of the staff was already at work. Chef Turmeric, a muscular Earth Pony stallion with pale-yellow fur and a perpetually critical gaze, stood at the large workstation. Together with three sous-chefs, he was preparing cake batter for later in the day. The gentle clattering of bowls filled the room, mingling with low chatter among the staff.

At one of the stations stood Lime Peel, a young, green-tinted unicorn with a perpetually nervous smile. In front of him was a large mixing bowl filled with flour, sugar, vanilla, oil, and oat milk, and he stirred it intently, occasionally casting a furtive glance at his colleague, Sugar Drop. In Lime Peel’s eyes, the slim Pegasus with cream-colored fur and caramel hair was the most attractive mare in the entire palace kitchen.

“So, I’m telling you, Lime,” Sugar Drop began, tossing him a teasing smile while adding cocoa powder to her mixture, “if I ever open my own bakery, my chocolate cake will be even more famous than Turmeric’s.”

Lime let out a nervous laugh, inadvertently stirring faster. “Sure, but without you, the palace kitchen would probably be really dull.”

Sugar Drop grinned. “Maybe you’ll just have to come with me.” She winked, and Lime Peel nearly dropped his bowl if not for his magic kicking in at the last second.

Chef Turmeric glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp. “Peel! If you stir that batter like it’s cement, we’ll never be done! Focus!”

“Y-Yes, Chef!” Lime Peel stammered, forcing his thoughts back to the bowl in front of him. But before the kitchen could slip back into its regular routine, the door burst open with a crash.

Silence fell instantly as Daybreaker strode into the room, her mane blazing and eyes glinting like molten gold. What had been a lively space turned oppressively still as everyone instinctively bowed.

Daybreaker paused at the threshold, her presence as heavy as an oncoming storm. “Which one of you,” she began, her voice dangerously calm, “is responsible for the cherries at breakfast?”

Chef Turmeric was the first to move, though his hooves trembled as he spoke. “T-That would be… Lime Peel, Your Majesty.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, one hoof pointing nervously at the green unicorn.

Daybreaker advanced slowly into the room, every step meticulously controlled. She closed the door behind her with a soft click that felt like a whip crack, then walked toward Lime Peel. With her magic, she levitated the cherry pit she’d taken from Twilight and held it up to his face.

“Do you know what this is?” Her voice was quiet, almost casual, but her raised eyebrow spoke of expectation.

Lime Peel swallowed hard, gaze darting between Daybreaker and the pit. He began to sweat. “I-It’s a cherry pit, Your Majesty.”

Daybreaker nodded slowly. “A cherry pit. Correct.” Her eyes flickered briefly, as though she’d just paid him a compliment. “Care to explain why a cherry pit was in the supposedly pitted cherries served to me and Twilight this morning?”

Lime Peel went as pale as a bedsheet, his hooves trembling. “I-I don’t know, Your Majesty. There shouldn’t have been a pit. It… it must have been a small oversight on my part.”

Daybreaker tilted her head, her gaze stabbing him like a dagger. Then her mouth curved into a startlingly friendly smile. “Well, if it was just a small oversight, then there’s no harm done, right?” Her tone was gentle, almost consoling.

Lime Peel started to relax, breathing a bit more easily. “Yes, that’s exac...”

He never got to finish. Daybreaker’s wing snapped out in a lightning-fast motion, the metal tips of her wing ornaments catching the light. In one clean, soundless slash, Lime Peel’s head was severed from his body. A stunned silence filled the room, broken only by the dull thud of his head hitting the floor and then his body collapsing onto the tiles.

Daybreaker folded her wing back, her gaze sweeping the kitchen. Her voice was ice-cold as she said, “Clean that up and find a replacement for him.”
She turned toward the sink, where she grabbed a rag. With smooth, controlled movements, she wiped the blood from her wing, her face impassive. “Make sure his replacement is more competent.”

Chef Turmeric and the other staff stared in horror before hastily moving to remove the lifeless body. Daybreaker filled a glass of water with regal composure, then left the room as if nothing had happened.

Twilight wasn’t sure what to make of it all. When Daybreaker returned from the kitchen, she’d handed her a glass of water and, in almost a cheerful tone, suggested they move on. Wearing a smug grin Twilight found unsettlingly familiar, she looked too pleased, like she’d just accomplished something. That smile has nothing to do with bringing me water, Twilight thought. It’s the same smile she wears whenever she’s achieved something.

The notion made her shiver involuntarily. She could only guess what draconian punishment had been meted out to the pony responsible for the cherry pit. She could practically hear Daybreaker’s voice in her mind: You’ll be cleaning the kitchen alone after every shift for the next forty months. A cold chill ran down her spine.

“Twilight?” Daybreaker’s voice snapped her back to reality. “You look like you’re thinking hard. Don’t worry, our training will clear your head,” she said with a hint of amusement.

Twilight just nodded weakly, following Daybreaker as she led her into a building with colossal marble doors bearing intricate engravings. Twilight had expected an ordinary training hall, but upon crossing the threshold, she discovered that “hall” was the wrong word entirely.

A massive arena spread out before her, its sheer scale taking her breath away. The walls were hewn from gleaming white marble, and atop the stands rose rows of gold statues, each depicting Daybreaker in various poses exuding strength and dominance. Twilight couldn’t help wondering how she’d managed to erect statues of herself so quickly, but decided she probably didn’t want to know.

The arena itself was towering, easily ten stories high, with an open roof showing the vibrant blue sky overhead. The floor was packed clay, carefully smoothed, marked with white chalk lines forming different sections and patterns. Twilight couldn’t decipher their finer details, but they felt almost ritualistic.

“This,” Daybreaker began, her voice hushed, almost reverent, “is where we begin.”

Twilight couldn’t help but glance around, eyes roaming over the vast stands, the sparkling statues, and then the chalk patterns beneath her hooves. She swallowed hard. “It’s… impressive,” she managed, her voice small in the sheer expanse of the arena.

Daybreaker let out a satisfied chuckle. “What we’re going to do here is what’s really going to impress you, Twi Twi.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”

Daybreaker laughed softly, a deep, amused sound that echoed in the cavernous space. “You did. But you’ll find I’m not so good at taking orders.”

Twilight shook her head, releasing a soft sigh as she glanced around once more. It felt like a piece of her future was about to unfold here, and that notion worried her more than she cared to admit. “So, where do we start?”

Daybreaker didn’t answer immediately. With her magic, she lifted a piece of chalk and started drawing a large circle on the clay floor, adding symbols and patterns with precise, measured strokes. At length, she stepped back and gestured. “Do you know what this is, Twilight?”

Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. Take that, instincts, she thought triumphantly. Studying the circle closely, she replied, “It looks like a rune circle. But I don’t see any distinct effect, seems it’s just storing magic.”

Daybreaker nodded approvingly. “Exactly right. This circle can hold about fifty thousand mana. An average unicorn could fill maybe a tenth of that in about twenty minutes. A very powerful unicorn could fill half of it in around fifteen minutes. Your brother could fill it completely in ten.” She paused, her amused eyes glittering. “Whereas I would need about ten seconds.”

Twilight stared, her thoughts racing. “That’s… incredible. But why are you showing it to me?”

Grinning, Daybreaker began drawing additional circles around the first, twenty-five in total, arranged in perfect symmetry. “When you were still a unicorn, we measured your magical strength with a horn ring. That doesn’t work on an alicorn; our power exceeds the device’s limits. So we use this method instead.”

Twilight watched, fascinated, as the circles took shape. “We’ll measure how many of these circles you can fill before magical exhaustion sets in, and how long it takes. That’ll show us your maximum capacity as well as your output. Also,” she went on, pointing to the chalk designs, “the color these circles light up in will help us identify your magic type.”

Twilight arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound very precise.”

Daybreaker shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll give us a decent idea of your current power level and your potential.”

“My potential?” Twilight frowned.

Daybreaker paused, giving her a serious look. “Yes. Your potential. Your body is still adjusting after your ascension. We only have three precedents so far. Based on limited data, your magic should grow by another fifty percent or so over the next eight to ten years.”

Twilight said nothing for a moment, letting this sink in. A spark of excitement flared within her at the thought of discovering her new magical potential. “And what happens now?”

Daybreaker grinned, moving aside as the chalk still hovered near her. “Now, Twi Twi, we begin.”

Stepping forward cautiously, Twilight approached the circles as if the floor might suddenly drop from under her hooves. “And… this is safe?” she asked, eyeing the chalk lines warily.

Daybreaker waved off her concern. “You’ll be out of magic for a few days until your power regenerates, but otherwise you’ll be fine.”

Twilight gave her a skeptical look. “How many of these circles can you fill, exactly?”

Daybreaker flashed a cocky smile. “Twenty-four, dear. Making me the most powerful alicorn walking this world. Even Luna can only manage nineteen.” She paused theatrically. “Though I suppose I’ll never match the destructive potential of your cooking.”

Twilight glared at her, eyes narrowing. “Hardy har har,” she said flatly. “For your information, I haven’t burned a single thing since then.”

Daybreaker cocked her head, eyes alight with amusement. “Only because nopony’s ever let you cook again. Twilight, you once managed to burn water. Water.”

Twilight scowled, cheeks turning slightly pink. “That was a one-off accident! It was an… experiment.”

“Oh, an experiment?” Daybreaker’s grin widened. “So it was intentional that the pots in your kitchen looked like lava fields afterward?”

Twilight sighed theatrically and stepped closer to the innermost circle. “I was trying to create lava.” She emphasized trying. “Could you please just forget about it?”

Daybreaker nodded with mock gravity. “Forget? Twi Twi, some feats are too legendary to be forgotten.”

Shaking her head, Twilight studied the circle in front of her. A small smile played across her lips, equal parts nervousness and resolve. “All right. Let’s see how legendary I really am.”

Her horn began to glow, a soft lavender aura that quickly intensified. Raw, unshaped magic flared outward in a massive corona and poured like a wild current into the runic circle. The first circle started to fill, its lines greedily absorbing the magic with uncanny precision. After about twenty seconds, it lit up with a gentle white glow, pulsing in a steady rhythm as sparks danced between the runes.

Twilight didn’t hesitate, channeling magic nonstop, her concentration unwavering. Soon a second circle lit up, then a third, and the glow kept spreading. The air in the arena began to shimmer as the excess energy charged the atmosphere. Twilight showed no sign of fatigue; her eyes sparkled with pure focus.

Watching from a few steps away, Daybreaker stood with rigid wings, her usual self-assured demeanor replaced by a pensive expression. She said nothing, but her golden eyes traced every spark, every surge of magic flowing from Twilight. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, though her thoughts remained analytical. Cadance lit up ten circles after her ascension. Luna reached thirteen, and I myself hit sixteen. Let’s see how the little Twilight does.

The ninth circle began to light up, each ring flickering softly and filling the arena with a nearly sacred glow. Twilight’s magic kept flowing, though the corona around her horn wasn’t as large as at the start. Her body trembled, sweat dripping from her brow as she focused all her strength on pouring more energy into the circles.

Daybreaker’s unwavering gaze noted every sign of Twilight’s growing exhaustion: the trembling legs, the strained expression, but Twilight persevered. Not bad, she thought. Will she be able to go further?

Soon the tenth circle lit up, followed by the eleventh, its white light flickering briefly before pulsing in a steady cadence. The tension in the arena was palpable, even to Daybreaker herself.

“All right, Twilight,” she whispered, her voice somehow carrying across the space. “Show me what you can do.”

If Twilight heard her, she gave no sign. Every bit of her concentration was on the next circle. Her breathing was ragged, chest heaving erratically, but she gritted her teeth and kept channeling with unwavering resolve. The runes in the circles pulsed in time with her magic, and the twelfth circle began to fill.

A low growl escaped her throat as the thirteenth circle finally came alive. The circles shone brightly, their shared rhythm throbbing through the arena. But Twilight’s magic was nearly spent; the once-brilliant corona around her horn was barely visible in the blinding glow of the rune-circles. Her legs trembled, body swaying, but she forced herself upright through sheer willpower.

“C’mon,” she muttered hoarsely. “Just… a bit… more.”

The lines of the fourteenth circle began to glow, tentatively at first, then growing stronger. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle tensed as she drew the last dregs of power from deep within. The circle flared to life just as the magic around her horn died out completely.

With a gasp of exhaustion, Twilight collapsed. The dull thud of her body hitting the ground echoed through the arena. Her legs gave out entirely, leaving her sprawled between the pulsing, radiant circles. Her chest rose and fell heavily, but otherwise she lay still.

Daybreaker stood motionless for a moment, eyes fixed on Twilight. Her golden gaze glowed with a blend of pride and… something else, something indiscernible. Then she stepped closer, the crackle of her fiery mane breaking the silence. Her voice was soft yet firm. “Fourteen circles, Twilight. Impressive. That’s a total of seven hundred thousand mana.”

She paused, expression flickering between admiration and delight, then gave a small, respectful nod. “That puts you just behind Cadance, whose capacity is around seven hundred fifty thousand. But…” She let the word hang in the air. “…in a few years, once your magic fully develops, you could fill twenty circles, one million mana.” She winked, though Twilight was in no state to see it. “That’d put you just above Luna.”

Daybreaker’s gaze traveled over the glowing circles as if double-checking. “Your output is also worthy of respect,” she added. “Fourteen circles in about fifteen minutes. As a comparison, Cadance needed almost twenty-six minutes to fill ten. Impressive, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

She smirked, a hint of amusement in her golden eyes. “Judging by the color of the circles, you’re still Conduction-type. That explains your rather high output, clearly above Cadance and probably above Luna as well.”

Letting her words linger, Daybreaker gently enveloped Twilight in her magic. The lavender glow of Twilight’s aura seemed almost soothing against the powerful glow of the circles. With a swift, fluid motion, Daybreaker lifted Twilight onto her back, her flaming mane flickering without singeing Twilight.

“All right, come on. In a few days, once your magic returns, we’ll begin your actual training. Today was more than enough, I think.”

Half-conscious, Twilight lay across Daybreaker’s back, trying to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, her stomach rebelled, and before she could stop herself, she threw up in a convulsive reflex. A wet, unpleasant sound echoed through the arena.

Daybreaker froze. For a moment, absolute silence reigned, broken only by the faint echo of Twilight’s retching. Turning her head slowly, her golden eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and… resignation.

“Well, that’s how you repay all my hard work,” she muttered drily, a faint smile quirking her lips. She gave a small shake of her head and sighed. “At least it landed on my back and not the ground.” Another sigh.

Twilight mumbled an inaudible apology before her head flopped wearily against Daybreaker’s mane.

“Well, Twi Twi,” Daybreaker said as she calmly walked out of the arena, “if this is a preview of our training, it’s going to be quite the journey. But for now, let’s get you cleaned up before the court opens today.”

Daybreaker sat on her majestic throne, posture like carved stone, stern and unyielding. Her gaze was fixed on the grand doors of the throne room, as though expecting something or someone to burst in at any moment. Her expression was severe, nearly unreadable, yet a flicker of… frustration?… smoldered in her golden eyes.

“I said I was sorry,” Twilight offered meekly, standing by the throne and shifting her gaze between the floor and Daybreaker.

Daybreaker didn’t move. Her fiery mane flickered softly, mirroring her irritation. Finally, she spoke, her voice cool with a slight edge to it. “You threw up on my back… twice.”

Twilight winced, ears folding back. She looked suitably guilty. “I didn’t mean to. I was… exhausted.”

“And then a third time after we showered,” Daybreaker added petulantly, her golden eyes finally fixing on Twilight. “Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?”

Twilight swallowed nervously, avoiding her gaze. “I can imagine…”

Daybreaker slowly leaned back in the throne, eyes returning to the door. “We’ll discuss this some other time.” She paused dramatically before adding in feigned gravity, “You realize there are some things even I can’t forgive, Twilight.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, a bit of her courage returning. “Fine, I’ll scrub your back later until it smells like nothing but lavender soap.”

Daybreaker’s lips twitched, threatening a tiny amused smile. She inclined her head slightly, though she didn’t entirely drop her regal bearing. “Do that. And while you’re at it, help me deal with petitions today. It’s hard to come up with solutions when one is… how did you put it? Exhausted.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, unable to stop a small grin from tugging at her lips. “Very majestic of you to make such a big deal out of it.”

Daybreaker leaned forward, her expression serious but a playful glint in her eyes. “I define what is and isn’t majestic.”

Twilight said nothing, letting out a soft laugh before turning to stare at the throne room doors. The air remained still, almost tense, for about a minute. Finally, the large double doors opened, admitting a dark-gray unicorn mare with an emerald-green mane. Her steps were calm, almost graceful, and she levitated a list in front of her. Her cutie mark depicted a green flame on her gray flank, drawing the eye.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” the mare began in a clear, polite voice. She paused briefly, her green eyes flicking to Twilight before refocusing on Daybreaker. “Are you ready to begin today’s session?”

Daybreaker gave a curt nod, her golden eyes shifting momentarily between the unicorn and Twilight. “Twilight,” she said, gesturing lightly toward the newcomer with a hoof, “allow me to introduce Bugvisor. She’s my new aide now that Raven has retired.”

Twilight regarded Bugvisor briefly, narrowing her eyes as though to evaluate her. “Nice to meet you,” she said at last, her tone polite but slightly reserved.

Bugvisor bowed slightly, offering a courteous yet faintly cool smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Princess Twilight. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Her voice was respectful, though there was a subtle undertone that set Twilight on edge.

Daybreaker rose slowly from her throne, her fiery mane flaring more brightly as she stepped forward. “All right, Bugvisor, what’s on the agenda? I hope it’s nothing too dull.”

Bugvisor glanced down at her list, scanning it while Twilight studied her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Something about her feels… off, Twilight thought, but remained silent for the moment.

“We don’t have too many appointments today, Your Majesty,” Bugvisor began, her voice calm and focused. “First, a certain Mister Penny Pot would like to speak with you about repairing the Cloudsdale Coliseum. Next, there’s a Ms. Green Leave, requesting an audience regarding the ongoing drought in the eastern regions. And finally…” Bugvisor paused, frowning slightly as she read the next entry, “a certain Trixie Lulamoon, who wishes to file a complaint about harassment.”

Twilight’s head shot up. “Trixie?” she asked in surprise. “I know her. She’s a traveling entertainer. We’ve crossed paths a few times.”

Daybreaker cast Twilight a sidelong glance, lifting an eyebrow. “I recall. She was… let’s say loud.”

Twilight shrugged, a faint smile forming. “That’s Trixie. But if she’s come all the way here, it must be something important.”

Daybreaker turned back to Bugvisor with a decisive tone. “Good. Bring Trixie in first. I’m curious to hear what she has to say.”

Bugvisor bowed gracefully, her expression unchanged. “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” She turned for the doors and exited with swift, fluid steps.

Twilight looked at Daybreaker, frowning slightly. “I wonder what it is this time. Trixie’s not usually the type to ask for help.”

Daybreaker gave a soft, almost amused snort. “Then let’s see what forced her to come here. I expect an entertaining performance.”

A few minutes passed before Bugvisor returned, accompanied by a blue unicorn wearing a flashy wizard’s hat and matching cape decorated with stars. Every step Trixie took seemed deliberately theatrical, as if she wanted to ensure all eyes were on her. Twilight suppressed a smile. Trixie hasn’t changed a bit.

Trixie halted before the throne and bowed low, her hat slipping forward slightly. She lifted it with her magic and placed it back on her head, then spoke. “The Great and Awe-Inspiring Trixie thanks Your Majesty for granting her an audience on such short notice.”

Daybreaker leaned forward slightly, her fiery mane flickering as she regarded the unicorn with a piercing stare. “Well then, Trixie Lulamoon,” she began, voice calm but firm. “I have little patience for theatrics. If you’re here, I hope it’s for something important.”

Trixie hesitated a moment, but her confident posture didn’t waver. “Of course, Your Majesty. Trixie would never waste your precious time on trivialities.” She cast Twilight a brief glance, perhaps checking whether she’d find approval or ridicule. Twilight returned the look with a mixture of curiosity and reserve.

Daybreaker lifted an eyebrow, her golden eyes glinting. “Then get to the point, Trixie. Why are you here?”

Trixie straightened, chest puffed out with pride, though a hint of tension lingered in her eyes. “Trixie has come seeking justice. She’s been repeatedly harassed in recent months, and it’s threatening her life and career as a traveling entertainer.” Her voice grew more urgent. “Trixie can’t travel or perform without fear. Criminals are damaging her property and putting her safety at risk.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Criminals? What exactly happened, Trixie?”

Trixie shot Twilight a brief, almost relieved look before resuming her theatrical stance. “Trixie roams across Equestria and beyond, astounding creatures everywhere with her wonders and marvels. But lately…” She paused dramatically, lowering her voice. “…many nations have closed their borders: the Griffon Kingdoms, Saddle Arabia, even smaller principalities. On Trixie’s quest to find an audience not yet graced by the Great and Powerful Trixie’s show, she was forced to head north to the frozen wastes.”

Her eyes flashed as she punctuated her story with dramatic gestures. “Of course, the cold of the tundra is no match for Trixie’s magical prowess. But bands of thieves led by brutal warlords ambushed Trixie. They stole her possessions, damaged her magnificent wagon, and demanded outrageous tolls just for crossing the region.”

Twilight felt her brow crease in concern. “They forced you to pay them a ‘passage fee’?”

Trixie nodded vigorously, her expression teetering between outrage and triumph. “Exactly! These rogues extort anyone trying to traverse the tundra, demanding bits or property. And although Trixie heroically resisted, they still stole her precious props, vandalized her wagon, and even pelted Trixie with filth!”

She stomped a hoof, voice reaching a dramatic crescendo. “Trixie demands that these villains be brought to justice!”

Her words echoed in the throne room, followed by a short silence. Twilight turned to Daybreaker, whose golden eyes were fixed intently on the showmare.

“Warlords in the tundra?” Daybreaker murmured, sounding more intrigued than alarmed. “Interesting. So you expect me to send troops to deal with this threat?” She lifted an eyebrow, her tone even yet cutting.

Trixie wavered briefly before steadying herself. “The Great and Powerful Trixie expects nothing less than justice, Your Majesty.”

Daybreaker switched her gaze to Twilight, an almost curious glint in her eyes. “What do you think? How would you resolve this problem?”

Twilight assumed a thoughtful expression, brow knitted. “The frozen tundra isn’t claimed by any kingdom. It’s lawless territory. To ensure a safe route, we might set up a secure corridor. Possibly negotiate a treaty with the warlords, letting them keep their autonomy if they guarantee safe passage.”

Bugvisor scoffed the moment Twilight finished, her voice sharp and dismissive. “Make a deal with criminals? That would be a sign of weakness. I say we declare those lands part of Equestria and lock those thugs away.”

Twilight shook her head, keeping her tone steady but firm. “The frozen north is harsh terrain. Ponies only live there if they have nowhere else to go. Stationing troops there year-round isn’t worth it. Besides, the Crystal Empire might feel threatened if we expand our borders that far.”

Bugvisor snorted softly, green eyes flashing with disagreement. “Threatened? The Crystal Empire is weak. They can’t afford to criticize us.”

Twilight frowned, her voice going sharper. “Politics isn’t just about strength, Bugvisor. It’s also about diplomacy. Taking such a step without their agreement would further damage the trust between our nations.”

Daybreaker raised a hoof, a simple yet unmistakable gesture that immediately ended the argument. Her fiery mane flickered slightly. When she spoke, her tone was cool but decisive. “I must admit, I don’t care much for the Crystal Empire’s opinion of my policies. But I agree with Twilight that simply annexing those lands may not be the wisest move. Not worth it. Which, unfortunately, means that route remains unsafe. Another matter entirely if the Crystal Empire were part of Equestria and the railway route weren’t shut down.”

She paused, her golden eyes drifting toward nothing in particular, as though weighing an unseen scenario. “It’s no secret that criminals hold sway in the tundra. I can only warn ponies not to travel there. As for you, Trixie,” she added, turning her gaze on the showmare, “I recommend you wait it out and stay within Equestria’s borders. I’m sure there are still plenty of ponies here who haven’t seen your show.”

Trixie stiffened momentarily, torn between frustration and indignation, before managing a polite reply. “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” she began, her voice carefully courteous but edged with defiance, “the Great and Powerful Trixie has already traveled the length and breadth of Equestria, delighting all she meets. Her art deserves to be known beyond our borders.”

Daybreaker let out a short snort, almost a laugh, before lounging back in her throne. Her flaming mane flickered gently as she regarded Trixie with mild amusement. “You can’t tell me every pony in Equestria has seen your… art.”

Trixie hesitated, her outward confidence momentarily wavering into discomfort. “Well… no.”

Daybreaker raised an eyebrow, a smug grin forming. “Then I suppose that settles it for now.”

Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. Feeling the tension rising, Twilight stepped in, addressing Trixie gently. “Maybe this is an opportunity to reach more ponies in Equestria before you venture abroad again.”

Trixie seemed torn for a moment, then drew a deep breath and offered a somewhat forced smile. “The Great and Powerful Trixie shall heed your advice…”

Daybreaker shook her head, letting out a faint laugh. “Well, that’s a sensible choice.”

Author's Note

ALso... I actually worked on this chapter for 8 hours straight today. I don't know what that says about me, but probably not much good. Well, I hope you like it.

If you find mistakes or strange formulations, then it's definitely because of that

Chapter 4

Daybreaker stood on her balcony, gazing into the distance. From here, she could see beyond Equestria’s vast expanse, all the way to Ponyville and beyond. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the land in warm hues, the sky aflame with vivid colors. A gentle melancholy hung in the air, carried on a soft summer breeze that tugged at her mane like a reminder of days long gone.

Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the past two weeks. Twilight had finally awakened. And though Daybreaker had witnessed countless sunrises, none had ever felt as radiant as the moment she could once again wrap her hooves around her fellow princess. They had spent a great deal of time together, training sessions, endless conversations, and brief moments of peace in which Daybreaker could almost forget how fragile this new harmony really was. A slight smile formed on her lips. Yet despite all their closeness, there remained a distance. An invisible wall that Twilight built with each smile and each question about the past.

Daybreaker wasn’t an idiot. She knew perfectly well that her former student didn’t fully trust her, and no overt display of affection would change that. Twilight was too smart, too cautious. The sweeping changes had unsettled her, and this new Equestria still felt like a foreign land shifting beneath her hooves. All Daybreaker could do was hope Twilight would begin to settle in soon. The court sessions, which Daybreaker regularly took Twilight to, at least seemed to help a little.

Yet Twilight’s mistrust didn’t alter one important fact, how wonderful it felt to have her at her side again. No one could deny that Twilight herself enjoyed their time together, even if she’d never admit it. Daybreaker saw it in the small gestures, in moments when Twilight’s resistance cracked, involuntary smirks here and there, a suppressed laugh, a playful remark, or even a rare little purr in the morning.

Otherwise, things were moving forward as well. Twilight was making breathtaking strides in her magic training, though it surprised no one. She was the Element of Magic, after all. The discipline, the determination, the relentless pursuit of perfection with which Twilight tackled every lesson, it was something to behold. The first thing Twilight had to master was modulation. Every unicorn learned instinctively from a young age how to modulate magic; it was as natural as breathing. But with her ascension to alicornhood, that once-automatic ability had vanished. A tiny bit too much power, and a simple telekinesis spell could become lethal. What once was a gentle grip could now snap bones, tear organs, snuff out lives.

The raw power coursing through her left no margin for even the smallest slip. Every spell was like dancing on the edge of a knife, a constant balancing act between control and destruction. So far, Twilight could reliably use about twenty percent of her full strength. Anything beyond that still posed problems, though she was working hard to overcome them. Daybreaker felt certain: It was only a matter of time, maybe a few months, until Twilight mastered the entirety of her magic. Completely, precisely, perfectly.

What truly gave her trouble was Twilight’s constant urging to see her friends again. Daybreaker’s face darkened.

“Why can’t it just be easier?” she murmured, her voice barely more than a raspy whisper. “The Element Bearers… they’re good ponies. I’m glad Twilight made friends like them, but…”

Her gaze grew stony as she stared past the balcony’s balustrade into the distance.

“They’re blind. Just as blind as the rest of Equestria. They don’t understand. They can’t see the bigger picture. They have no idea how fragile the peace they take for granted truly is.”

With a quiet scrape, Daybreaker rose from her seat and walked slowly over to the balustrade. Her gaze swept across the endless plains, as though by her mere presence she could banish every uncertainty.

“They are not the ponies who should be guiding Twilight through this world. Not the ones she should trust about such things.” Her voice hardened, a hint of anger in her words.

She let out a soft snort. “At least a part of them had the necessary foresight to accept the inevitable changes.” Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. “And perhaps… they’re smart enough to help strengthen Twilight’s trust in me.” She laughed quietly as a plan began taking shape in her mind, a plan that would lead Twilight exactly where Daybreaker wanted her. And in the end, Twilight would finally take her rightful place by Daybreaker’s side.

Twilight and Daybreaker sat in a golden chariot, pulled by four armored pegasi, en route to Ponyville. It had taken weeks, but Twilight had finally convinced Daybreaker to let her leave the castle, at least so she could see her friends in Ponyville.

Twilight could barely contain her excitement. She paced nervously in the cramped space of the chariot, her heart pounding with anticipation. A broad grin played on her face as she repeatedly tried to peer over the chariot’s edge, hoping to spot some first glimpse of the little town.

“Are we there yet?” she asked for the umpteenth time, her tail twitching with impatience.

Daybreaker, composed as ever, sat almost regally at Twilight’s side, barely reacting to her fidgeting. “Twilight,” she said, amusement evident in her voice, “you’ll see soon enough.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Sometimes, you still act like a little filly.”

Twilight abruptly stopped mid-pace, glaring at Daybreaker in what was supposed to be outrage, but she couldn’t entirely hide the joy dancing in her eyes. “For your information,” she retorted, raising a hoof in protest, “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with showing one’s excitement publicly. In fact, multiple reproducible studies on the subj...”

“Have shown that you’re adorable when you launch into your little lectures. I know, Twilight,” Daybreaker interjected, flashing a roguish grin.

Twilight huffed, crossing her forelegs and turning slightly away, a faint pink tinge blooming on her cheeks. “I am not adorable.”

Daybreaker laughed softly. “Of course you’re not, Twi Twi.”

Twilight made a face, poised to fire back, when suddenly the chariot broke through the cloud cover. The golden edges of the vehicle caught the sunlight as it swooped gracefully toward Sweet Apple Acres.

Daybreaker let her gaze drift across the orchard below, smirking. “Looks like you won’t have to wait much longer. Good thing, too... I was afraid you might explode if this kept up.”

Twilight snorted and pressed herself eagerly against the chariot’s side, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the familiar fields and buildings of Ponyville. The chariot touched down gently on the damp ground, sliding about fifteen meters through the muck before coming to a stop. A slight shudder ran through the frame as its golden wheels sank into the earth.

With practiced skill, the pegasus guards unlatched themselves from their harnesses and marched in precise formation to the front of the chariot. Their armor clinked softly with each step before they lined up perfectly and saluted.

“Your Majesty,” one of them declared in a serious tone. “We have arrived safely.”

Daybreaker returned the salute with a curt nod, her fiery mane flickering behind her. “Very good.”

Twilight could barely hold back her excitement, nearly bouncing in true Pinkie Pie fashion off the chariot. But a sharp, serious sidelong glance from Daybreaker made her pause, a silent reminder that she was a princess and should act accordingly.

Awkwardly clearing her throat, she stood straighter, trying to maintain a dignified stance. “Yes… excellent, gentlecolts. Shall we make our way to the farmhouse?” She forced a small smile that revealed more uncertainty than royal authority.

The guards broke their salute in perfect unison. “By your command, Your Highness.”

And so the small group set off. Daybreaker and Twilight walked side by side, while the heavily armed guards marched before and behind them with military precision. The sound of hooves on the damp ground mingled with the soft squeak of metal.

Daybreaker glanced at Twilight, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Twilight held her head high, but the slight tremble in her hooves betrayed her impatience. She could hardly wait to see her friends again.

A few steps from the Apple family’s large red farmhouse, the group halted. Daybreaker raised a hoof, and at once the guards stopped.

“Twilight,” she began, her tone surprisingly gentle, “it might be best if you go up to the door alone and knock. I’m sure you want your reunion to be… personal.”

Twilight blinked in surprise, looking up at Daybreaker. Had she really just said that? After all the debates and discussions, after insisting on accompanying Twilight in the first place, she was now granting her this space? Twilight searched Daybreaker’s eyes for hidden motives but found only a strange mixture of anticipation and pleasure.

“Thank you,” she whispered, genuine gratitude in her voice. Then she scurried toward the door, her heart hammering in her chest.

The farmhouse looked just as she remembered. The familiar scent of applewood and fresh earth hung in the air, the shutters creaked gently in the wind, and the faint clatter of dishes drifted out from the kitchen. For just a moment, it felt as though nothing had changed, as though she’d never left.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited.

“Just a second!” a familiar voice called from inside. Hoofsteps approached, muffled by the old wooden floor. Slowly, the door opened, and Applejack stepped into the light, smiling warmly.

“Howdy, how can I hel...” Her words died in her throat when she recognized Twilight. Her green eyes went wide as saucers, and her jaw dropped slightly. “Twilight?” she asked incredulously, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Twilight grinned nervously, taking a hesitant step forward. “Hey, Applejack, I hope you don’t mind that I...”

She got no further, because Applejack promptly lunged forward and pulled her into a tight hug. Twilight gasped in surprise, but immediately felt the warmth and familiarity of the strong hooves around her.

“By Celestia… I thought I’d never see you again,” Applejack murmured, her voice quivering as she clung even tighter to Twilight. A single tear escaped her eye and fell silently to the ground. “I gotta get the others. They’ll wanna see you too,” she added, her words muffled by the hug.

“That won’t be necessary,” a cocky, well-known voice came from above. “I saw the chariot coming and flew off to let Flutters know.” A gust of wind swept over the yard as Rainbow Dash landed in a smooth spiral. Before Twilight could react, Rainbow had her in a playful headlock.

“Welcome back, Egghead,” Rainbow said, grinning, while ruffling Twilight’s mane. Twilight let out a surprised laugh, struggling to wriggle free. “Rainbow!” she wheezed in between giggles. “Let me at least say hi first!”

Applejack shook her head in amusement. “Rainbow Dash, give her some space. She’s come a long way.”

“Psh, she doesn’t look that tired,” Rainbow countered, finally letting Twilight go, the mischievous grin never leaving her face.

Suddenly, Twilight felt a second, much gentler embrace from behind. A soft sob reached her ears as Fluttershy clung tightly to her.

“Twilight… you’re alright,” Fluttershy cried, her voice muffled against Twilight’s coat. Her trembling hooves gripped Twilight as though she might vanish again any second. Twilight felt the warmth of Fluttershy’s tears on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but Fluttershy continued, “Oh, it was so horrible… The banquet… and then they said you were gone, and we weren’t allowed to see you. I didn’t know what to do.” Her voice caught, followed by another quiet sob. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Twilight’s heart clenched as she carefully turned to embrace the trembling pegasus. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy… I’m here. I’m here.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it seemed to be enough. Fluttershy inhaled shakily, clinging just a little tighter.

“How touching,” came Daybreaker’s sardonic commentary.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash turned in unison to face her, their expressions a mix of anger and suspicion. Applejack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Rainbow flared her wings slightly, an instinctive sign of readiness. Daybreaker appeared unruffled by their reaction. The faint smile on her face remained as she took a slow step toward them. “What? It is touching,” she repeated, her tone feigning innocence, her gaze briefly flicking to Fluttershy, who shyly ducked behind Twilight.

“I’m sure you all have plenty of catching up to do,” she went on, letting her eyes wander over the gathered ponies. “How about we continue this inside? Perhaps with a cup of tea and a slice of apple pie?”

Twilight swallowed hard. The atmosphere had definitely changed, but she forced a small smile. “That… that sounds like a good idea, right?” She looked at Applejack, who responded with a curt nod, though she refused to take her eyes off Daybreaker.

And so the group, two pegasi, an earth pony, and two alicorns, slowly made their way into the cozy farmhouse. The heavy wooden door swung open with a soft creak, and the familiar aroma of freshly baked apple pie greeted Twilight.

The guards understood their unspoken orders at once. Without a word, they positioned themselves like statues by the entrance, steel-shod hooves firmly planted on the ground. Their gazes swept back and forth alertly, as though any slight movement could be a threat.

“Well…” Twilight began nervously, sinking into the corner of the large green couch. Her hooves fidgeted against the fabric as she cast a hesitant look around. “How… how are you all doing? You know… since I’ve been gone?”

A tense silence hung in the air. The only sound was the quiet clink of china as Applejack returned from the kitchen, balancing five steaming mugs on her back. She placed them in practiced motions before each pony.

“Well… after the conflicts quieted down, everything went… quieter,” she said at last, her voice calm but tinged with uncertainty.

Rainbow Dash, leaning against the wall, folded her forelegs and sighed. “Ponyville isn’t what it used to be. There’s…” Her eyes darted briefly to Daybreaker, who stood expressionless near the fireplace. “…a different atmosphere.”

Fluttershy, sitting close to Twilight, lowered her gaze to her cup. “We were so worried,” she whispered, barely audible. “We weren’t even allowed to…” She trailed off, uncertain if she should continue.

Twilight could feel the tension in the room like a weight pressing down. She bit her lip, looking at each friend in turn. “Were there any problems? I mean… besides the obvious?”

Applejack took a deep breath, settling into a well-worn rocking chair in the corner and pulling her hat low over her eyes, as though hiding behind it. “No, no problems. Everything’s runnin’ as usual.” Her voice sounded forcedly casual. “Mac an’ I had to work a bit harder, but that’s about it.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash chimed in, leaning further against the wall. “We’ve been a bit understaffed on the weather team since so many workers...”

A soft throat-clearing interrupted her. Daybreaker had just set her teacup down, eyeing Rainbow coolly.

“...decided to change careers,” Rainbow quickly finished, flaring her wings slightly before focusing on her tea.

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Changed careers?” she asked calmly, though a pang of unease bloomed inside. “Why did so many ponies suddenly leave the weather team? Did something happen?”

Rainbow shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Not really. Lots of pegasi just wanted to look for new jobs.” She let out a nervous laugh. “New challenges and whatnot.”

Twilight wasn’t fooled. Her friends were holding something back. They seemed far too nervous and guarded. Something was wrong. She could sense it in the way Applejack fiddled with her cup, or Fluttershy avoided eye contact.

She felt her mind racing. No doubt it’s Daybreaker’s presence making them so uneasy. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Applejack.

“And what about our other friends?” she finally asked, keeping her voice steady. “I heard they went to the Crystal Empire. Why?”

Applejack tensed, glancing away from Twilight. “Well, sugarcube…” She picked up her mug, spinning it absently in her hooves before continuing. “A lotta ponies are headin’ for the Crystal Empire. It’s… er…”

Her eyes darted around the room, seeming to look for support, but Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy remained silent. At last, Applejack muttered, “…they’ve got more freedoms there.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Freedoms?”

Applejack gave a slow nod, forcing a smile. “Yup. More… business opportunities, y’know. New land, new chances. That’s how it is.”

Twilight felt her stomach clench. That’s not the full story. Not even close.

She tilted her head, scrutinizing Applejack. “So Pinkie Pie and Rarity moved to the Crystal Empire for… business opportunities?” She let the question hang before letting out a humorless snort. “Well, maybe that fits Rarity, but Pinkie Pie?”

Fluttershy let out a tiny squeak, sipping her tea nervously. “S-she didn’t want Rarity to go alone,” she added hastily, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Twilight’s gaze drifted between her friends. Applejack refused to meet her eyes, Rainbow Dash was scratching the back of her neck, and Fluttershy seemed ready to vanish into her teacup.

“I see,” Twilight said dryly. “And that was her only reason?”

Rainbow let out a low snort. “If only,” she muttered under her breath. She froze when she heard a low, threatening growl. Daybreaker was glaring at her with glowing eyes.

Rainbow inhaled shakily, eventually looking back at Twilight. “You see, Twilight…” Her tone was softer now, cautious. “She was also… upset… about… you.”

Twilight drew back slightly.

Rainbow avoided her gaze. “We didn’t know if we’d ever see you again. Pinkie… she just couldn’t stay here anymore after that.”

Fluttershy flinched, and Applejack shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Twilight felt a heavy knot form in her throat. Pinkie… she left because she thought I was gone. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. She lowered her gaze, her mane falling forward to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“Pinkie left because of me?” Her voice was barely a whisper, raw with pain.

A soft wing draped comfortingly around her shoulders. “That’s not it, Twilight,” Fluttershy said gently. “She left because she missed you so much.”

Twilight gave a small, shuddery sob. “And now she still doesn’t know I’m alive… that I’m alright,” she managed in between broken breaths.

Fluttershy pulled her a bit closer, gently stroking Twilight’s back with a hoof. “We couldn’t see you. It wasn’t allowed,” she said quietly.

Twilight raised her head, eyes shining with tears as she turned to Daybreaker. “Why?” she asked, voice trembling, though anger simmered beneath. “Why weren’t they allowed to see me?”

For the first time since they’d arrived, Daybreaker looked… nervous. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but she quickly recovered.

“You have to understand, Twilight,” she began softly, firmly. “That poison was extremely potent. You were closer to death than you can imagine.” She paused, as if choosing her words with care. “We needed some… very specialized measures to save your life. No one was allowed to see you. It… just couldn’t happen.”

Twilight stared at her, searching for something, for honesty, for an explanation that made sense. Slowly, the anger in Twilight’s eyes gave way to skeptical reflection.

“I see,” she said at last. “But… why didn’t you at least tell them how I was doing?”

Daybreaker smiled, but it was strained. “Because… we didn’t know if you’d pull through.” Her tone was calm, but Twilight sensed deeper layers behind it. “Hope is fragile, Twilight. I wanted to spare them the pain of mourning you… yet it seems I failed.” She sighed. “I’m truly sorry.”

Twilight snorted softly, turning her head away as if trying to regain composure. “Sorry?” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Daybreaker, you let my friends believe I could be dead.” Her eyes narrowed as she fixed the sun alicorn with a piercing stare. “And my family? Do they know?”

Daybreaker tilted her head slightly, face unreadable. Twilight couldn’t tell if there was genuine remorse in those eyes or just a performance of understanding.

“I did what I had to, Twilight,” she said gently but insistently. “As for your family… they’re all in the Crystal Empire.”

Twilight felt her heart skip a beat.

“There’s no way for me to contact them, even if I wanted to.”

Twilight gaped at her in disbelief. “No way?” she repeated, her voice trembling as her mane fell into her face. “You rule all of Equestria, but you can’t send my family a message?”

Daybreaker sighed quietly, a touch of impatience creeping into her tone. “As you already know, our ties to the Crystal Empire are severed. The political climate is tense. I can’t simply send a messenger without putting ponies in danger, Twilight.”

Twilight gritted her teeth, breathing fast, her hooves digging into the couch cushion. Yet she forced herself to breathe deeply for a few seconds before speaking again, her voice unnervingly calm. “Of course. Just another reason to head to the Crystal Empire myself, then.”

Applejack’s head whipped up, and Rainbow Dash fluffed her wings anxiously. Fluttershy’s quiet “Oh” was barely audible.

Daybreaker regarded Twilight thoughtfully, as if she’d anticipated this. “Twilight…” she said, gently but firmly. “You know that’s impossible.”

Twilight held her gaze with unexpected resolve. “Why not?”

“Because I won’t let you run headlong into disaster,” Daybreaker replied, her voice underlaid with both severity and a glimmer of something else, maybe fear. Her expression was unyielding, her gaze locked on Twilight. “I can’t accompany you on that route. It’s dangerous, and you barely have your magic under control.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but Daybreaker spoke first, her tone softer now, but no less commanding. “I will not lose you again.”

Twilight froze. Her ears flicked, and a familiar knot tightened in her chest. She searched Daybreaker’s face for some sign of sympathy, but found only the unbending resolve of a ruler, maybe also a protector.

“This isn’t fair,” Twilight finally whispered, voice trembling. “I have the right to know what happened to my family, and they have the right to know what’s happened to me.”

Daybreaker inclined her head, gaze cool and assessing. “Fair?” she echoed, voice rising. “Twilight, this isn’t about fairness. It’s about your safety… and all of Equestria’s.” She stamped her hoof thunderously. The old wood plank cracked beneath her, splinters flying in all directions.

Twilight flinched, heart pounding. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back angrily. Her voice shook, yet she forced the words out. “I thought there was more to you than just the ruler act.”

Spinning around, she left the room without a backward glance. Her hoofsteps echoed sharply on the wooden floor, each one reverberating in the tense silence.

Behind her, Daybreaker remained, expression inscrutable.

Daybreaker sat alone in her study. The return trip from Ponyville had passed in silence, without a single word exchanged between her and Twilight. Now, within the stillness of her chambers, she buried her face in her hooves.

“This couldn’t have gone any worse,” she muttered, snorting in frustration. “Twilight’s furious with me, and there’s nothing I can do.” Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her frustration. “Why can’t she understand? All I want is to keep her safe!”

Her gaze drifted to the bookshelf, where a bust of Luna stood, an artifact from another time. She clenched her jaw, focusing on the cold, carved features of her sister.

“Of course she matters to me,” she murmured, as if trying to convince herself. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be trying to protect her.”

She continued staring at the bust, as though waiting for an answer that would never come. Her face darkened. “I know what’s best for Twilight. Even if no one attacks her, all she’ll do over there is get hurt and come back scarred.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And since when are you such an expert on raising foals?” she hissed, whipping upright as her voice rose to a loud shout.

“I can come back later if this is a bad time,” a calm, almost amused voice chimed in from behind.

Daybreaker spun around, her eyes ablaze with menace. Standing casually in the doorway was Bugvisor, lips curved into a smug smile, as though she’d been quietly watching the entire spectacle with amusement.

“Who gave you permission to barge in?” Daybreaker asked with a dangerously calm voice. A vague sense of threat crackled in the air as she fixed Bugvisor with a piercing glare.

Bugvisor remained unfazed. She dipped her head in a slight bow, her expression serene and unchanging. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m here for your own good,” she said with unwavering conviction. “I couldn’t help but notice that something wasn’t right.” She glanced at the stone bust behind Daybreaker. “And judging by that conversation you were having with the bust, I was correct.”

Daybreaker’s wings twitched, and her face darkened. “You’d do well to be careful with your observations, Bugvisor,” she warned icily. “As my chief advisor, you’re expected to question my decisions and actions… but don’t forget there are boundaries.”

Bugvisor inclined her head, though her smile did not waver. “Oh, I’m always careful, Majesty. And I certainly didn’t intend to intrude on your privacy.” She stepped slowly into the room, every movement poised and purposeful, as if weaving an invisible web around Daybreaker. Her eyes gleamed with a subdued self-confidence as she drew closer to the solar alicorn. “But I notice things others overlook,” she said softly, her voice a gentle purr somewhere between flattery and challenge. “And I think you know that.”

Daybreaker regarded her in silence for a moment, her gaze cold and appraising. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Then her lips curled into a thin smile devoid of warmth. “Oh, I know, Bugvisor,” she replied at last. “I just hope for your sake you also know when it’s better to look away.”

Bugvisor’s smile grew slightly wider, but she bowed with graceful courtesy. “Of course, Majesty. In this instance, however, I believe I can be of great help to you.”

Daybreaker sighed, as though already aware of where this was headed. “All right then, what do you want?” she asked lightly, though her voice carried a sharp undertone that made a mockery of any pretense of indifference.

Bugvisor offered a gentle, borderline mocking smile. “I don’t want anything, Majesty. But Twilight… Twilight wants to go to the Crystal Empire.”

A low growl escaped Daybreaker as she leaned back in her chair, her golden eyes narrowed and intense. “You know exactly why she can’t go there.”

Bugvisor tilted her head as if weighing a trivial observation. “Naturally.” Her grin broadened in smug approval. “I’m aware of Your Majesty’s concerns. But in this case… perhaps they’re misplaced.”

Daybreaker snorted, her gaze narrowing further. “Explain what you mean,” she said, her voice dropping in pitch, more dangerous. Her horn began to glow ominously, as though reminding Bugvisor what would happen if she displeased her.

But Bugvisor showed no sign of fear. Instead, she took another step forward, composure unbroken and her tone shrewd and unruffled. “Majesty, you should let Twilight travel to the Crystal Empire. If you allow her to go, do it on your terms, under your protection, with your guards. But if you hold her back here… well, it’s only a matter of time before she takes matters into her own hooves.”

Daybreaker glowered, yet Bugvisor remained poised. “And when that moment comes, she’ll do it on her own terms, without protection, without control.”

A moment of charged silence ticked by before Daybreaker exhaled quietly through her nose. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Bugvisor.”

Bugvisor inclined her head, a small smile hovering between flattery and superiority. “I’m playing it for you, Majesty.”

She stepped closer, keeping her eyes firmly on Daybreaker. “I know you worry about Twilight. You want to protect her, but… if you lock her in a cage like a bird, you’ll only put her in danger in the end.”

Daybreaker’s expression twisted, her golden eyes flashing with suppressed anger. “So you think I should just throw her to the wolves?” she retorted with a sarcastic undertone that did little to mask her genuine doubt.

Unperturbed, Bugvisor calmly shook her head. “Not at all.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, almost soothing, as though she’d carefully planned out a solution. “Let Twilight go. Provide her with a squad of guards, lay out firm conditions.”

She stepped even closer to Daybreaker, so only a few paces remained between them. Her voice fell to a cool whisper, laced with calculation. “Tell her she’s free to leave on one condition, that she return at once if there’s even the slightest hint of danger. And instruct the guards to keep an eye on her accordingly.”

Daybreaker studied Bugvisor with narrowed eyes, silent for a moment as though weighing each word on an invisible scale. At last, she let out a soft snort.

“And you assume she’ll follow these conditions?”

Bugvisor smiled again, this time with a tinge more cunning. “I think you know Twilight well enough to realize she will. When has she ever let you down?”

Daybreaker remained silent, eyes narrowed. Bugvisor pressed on, undeterred, her smile deepening, her voice turning soft and almost comforting. “If it really is as dangerous as you say, sooner or later Twilight will come back, admitting you were right.” She paused to let her words sink in before delivering her final thrust.

“And if she does make it to the Crystal Empire…” Bugvisor smiled. “Well, you know yourself how many refugees they’re likely to allow through. Odds are Twilight won’t even set hoof past their borders. Nothing will happen to her… and maybe she’ll even begin to question her own conviction.” She smirked as she added, “Of course, you could just hope she never thinks to go off on her own. But I think we both know what the odds of that are.”

Daybreaker stared at Bugvisor for a long beat, her expression unreadable. Yet in her eyes flickered something, a spark of thought, perhaps reluctant agreement.

Finally, she allowed herself to lean back into the chair. A narrow, satisfied grin spread across her lips. “And that is exactly why you’re my chief advisor,” she said with a blend of respect and faint amusement. “No one is as cunning as you.”

Bugvisor returned her smile, calm, collected. Yet in her eyes gleamed the triumphant light of a flawlessly spun plan. “I only do what’s necessary, Your Majesty.”

Daybreaker regarded her for a moment, gaze lingering on Bugvisor as though assessing every detail of her appearance. “Very well,” she said at last, a hint of wry humor in her tone. “Gather me ten of our most competent guards. I have a few preparations to make on my own. Twilight will get her chance.”

Bugvisor inclined her head again, her grin widening slightly. “Of course, Majesty. I’ll see to it.”

Turning with practiced grace, her tail brushed the floor lightly as she left the room in confident composure.

Daybreaker remained behind. The smile faded slowly from her lips as her gaze settled on the bust of Luna. For a moment, it seemed as though she wanted to say something, but instead, she kept silent. The quiet of the large chamber felt almost suffocating.

Author's Note

Oh yeay, a new chapter. And also the last one for this first story arc. The next one will be a little darker and more serious in tone, but no less exciting and entertaining.

Note: This is an AU which splits off from the canon from the Royal Wedding onwards. Chrysalis never attacked and Discord is still in stone.

The Pegasi have been conscripted for military service. Hence the sudden career change. And Applejack, as a farmer, has to give part of her harvest to the army, hence the extra work.

Chapter 5

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