She Makes Me Laugh

Chapters

13. Black Rune
1. Prologue
2. Coronation Cake
3. The Fool and the Trick
4. Lucid Shores
5. No Coincidences
6. Corridor of Fools
7. Peritwinkle
8. Dinner
9. The Empty Court
10. Totally Nothing Going On There, No Ma'am
11. Beginnings & Endings
12. Lex Comedium
14. Found Moment
15. Panacea
16. Lucid Light
17. Make A Plan
18. Epilogue

13. Black Rune

Luna wasn’t normally up so early in the day, and if it was any other occasion, any other reason, she wouldn’t even bother to care. Not when so few ponies bothered to care about her.

But one pony did. And right now, that one pony needed her. It was just one more terrible factor in her life that this was the only time anymore he was really awake.

She pushed the door to the castle’s medical ward open, cringing internally as the hinges groaned. None of the healer unicorns that were about would stop her from coming in if she really pressed the issue, but she’d rather not have to undergo some sort of confrontation. Especially because half the time they’d deny her entry without Celestia’s permission.

Always Celestia. Celestia’s permission. Celestia’s healing ward. Celestia’s unicorns. But not Celestia’s Royal Fool.

No. She pushed down the bile in her throat and banished those thoughts away. Not right now. There were more pressing matters, and they were laying on a soft bed in front of her, looking out of a stained glass window.

Peritwinkle’s color had faded, light whimsical blue desaturated almost to the point where he was grey, and his bells had been taken away for his health; the healers had said something about the silver exacerbating his condition.

It was hard to see anything left of her Royal Fool in the withered stallion in the bed. That wouldn’t stop her from trying.

His eyes lit up when he saw her approach, some of the color coming back as she stepped forward. At least the disease hadn’t taken that part of him away.

“Luna…” he beamed, sitting up as best he could. “You’re up late. Should you even be up? I mean, is that good for the foal?”

Still fussing over her, even while sick in bed. Luna tried to put on a brave face.

“We are fortunate that your daughter is quite the heavy sleeper, unless particularly spicy foods are involved. How are you though? Have the healers been tending to your needs? I have tried to make it clear the importance of their latest patient but…”

“Luna please, the only other pony here is a guard that I’m fairly certain just likes the attention, the worst thing they do is try to suggest that leeches are—”

Whatever joke he had prepared was interrupted by a coughing fit, and not a gentle one. He hacked and sputtered, and Luna was worried that he might somehow cough up a lung, or bruise a rib, but he held up a hoof when she rushed to aid him.

“Just g-give me a moment…”

Each cough brought with it tiny black particles in the air. They’d shimmer a bit before disappearing, and if one truly looked closely they could see that they weren’t little dots of diseased particulates. They were runes.

Thaumic Rot. Witch Plague. Wizard’s Blight. Whatever one called it in whatever corner of Equestria they were in, it was the same malady either way.

A terminal sickness, brought on by dark magic.

“Ow.”

If there was a silver lining to anything that happened in the past few weeks, it’s that the Fool’s illness wasn’t contagious. Peritwinkle wouldn’t let Luna near him until he was assured of that. Not if there was a chance it could harm the baby.

“Sorry,” he leaned back, sighing. “I’m not… It’s hard to do anything humorous. Nothing feels good right now, Luna. Even without bells, it’s hard to stay a Fool like this.”

“Are you in pain? I could bring you something, perhaps cast a pain relieving spell or…”

He shook his head. “The coughing hurts, but that’s not really it.”

“Then what is wrong?”

Peritwinkle said nothing, merely turning to stare out the window at the castle grounds. It was a beautiful Spring day outside. All the days had been beautiful. It helped to have a royal weather team to ensure endless sunshine.

But it wasn’t like it mattered much anymore.

“My love?”

“I don’t want to die, Luna,” he said finally. “I don’t… I know ponies are supposed to be serene in their final days, as if they’ve accepted it but I… I don’t want to go. I’m scared.”

Luna gave him a confident stare. “There have been breakthroughs in healing in Equestria these past few years; Meadowbrook alone pioneered cures to maladies that would have been death sentences just a decade ago. Surely—”

“I’m not turning into a tree and I don’t have feathers to get feather flu with. Put as many ointments or give me as many potions, but my malady is magical in nature. There’s a rogue spell tearing my insides up. I’m going to die, I—”

“You are not going to die, my love,” Luna’s confident stare became a hard one. She hoped that was reassuring. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing. “And if… it comes to pass, you will be remembered.”

“Remembered,” he gave her a dark look.

Luna tried to assure him further. “You said once that you want to leave behind an unavoidable impact on the comedy world, yes? We could publish your writings. There is talk of establishing the position of Royal Fool further, even as your and Big Top’s portraits hang in the galleries now, you could leave behind a legacy—”

“To hell with legacy! You’re what matters to me! I’ll never see your smile again, I’ll never…” He put his face in his hooves. “I’ll never live to see her face. I’ll never hold our daughter, or sing her to sleep, or teach her how to juggle or… or…”

Something broke in the Fool, and he began to cry.

Luna had tried, she didn’t know what to do, or how to do it. Her Royal Fool had been the confident one, the stallion who pretended that everything would always be alright. And now he was sitting there, sobbing like a foal.

Then if nothing else, she’d be right there with him. Let her be the rock for once. She pulled in closer to him, nuzzling him as his sobs quieted. If she didn’t know what to say, then she wouldn’t say anything.

“Right now I’d give anything to meet her, or just…” He whispered finally, tears falling. “Anything to be more than a story she’ll read.”

Luna paused. She had thought about this, after the healers had demanded constant bedrest. But her other attempts at reassurance had blown up spectacularly.

But if there was a chance to make her Fool smile, she owed it to both of them to at least put the option on the table.

“There… there may be a solution. A way for you to at least… see her.”

“More magic,” he huffed, giving way to a sigh. “I suppose there’s not much left to lose there. It’s not time travel magic is there? From what you told me of Chronosia, I don’t think I want to risk exploding.”

“It is a form of time magic, but it is not that kind of spell. The risk is…” Luna looked down. “Of a different nature.”

“What’s it do?”

“It would preserve you, in a way. A brief part of you, a…” she struggled to find the words. “A moment of stolen time, crystallized and kept as a living memory. Then one day, when she was ready, she could… meet you.”

“I know you, Luna,” he looked up at her, reading her like an open book despite her best attempt at an impassive expression. “This doesn’t sound like a spell that doesn’t have some sort of ironic twist, and it sounds like a bad one. What’s this risk?”

“I cannot fashion time out of nothing. A moment for a moment.”

He leaned back in the bed, closing his eyes in understanding. “It’d shorten my lifespan.”

“By an hour, I believe.”

“Only an hour? Would that mean that the… The moment would also only be an hour?”

“Yes, but in that hour, you would be whole.”

“It’s not enough time,” he said quietly.

“But it would be time all the same.”

They sat there in silence.

“Do it.” He said finally.

“Are you absolutely certain? I know the option is there but… You are…” Luna couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Even an hour of life is no doubt precious to—”

“No! It’s not precious, Luna. An hour to a dying stallion is time wasted on prolonging the inevitable… But an hour that a filly could spend with her father, even a minute where he could tell her how much she means to him…”

He looked down, smiling. “I bet I could teach her to juggle in an hour.”

The day of the funeral was sunny. It shouldn’t have been sunny. It shouldn’t have been a funeral. The Fool had insisted on a wake; one final party to send him off and let ponies remember him as he wanted to be, with folks dancing in the halls as thunder and lightning pounded a beat outside.

That was the fantasy, he had told her. But who listened to what a Fool actually wanted? Such a royal position demanded a somber affair, and Celestia had mandated the pegasus teams clear the skies to give the Royal Court’s brightest ray of sunshine a proper sendoff.

He hadn’t been her ray of sunshine, Luna fumed. This wasn’t what he wanted.

Celestia stood by his casket and gave a grand speech, every attendee that pretended to know him sitting rapt with attention about his skills, the best moments he had allowed them to see, how Equestria would never know a soul as kind and gentle as his again.

At least that last part was true.

Luna said nothing. It’s not like anyone would have listened anyway. So much of her was wrapped up in illusion magic. With merely a few months left to go in her pregnancy, she couldn’t risk showing herself like that to the court.

And the illusion helped hide the tears as well. She could barely keep it together, even casting spells risked her breaking down and sobbing herself to sleep on the spot. At this point, only a familiar fluttering near her stomach kept her going. Her daughter needed her; he’d understand, right?

She touched a hoof to the crystal necklace around her neck. The moment of frozen time felt warm against her skin, the arcane energy of it confirmation that the spell had worked.

She didn’t know if it had been worth it. But then, would an hour have saved her from despair?

No. It wouldn’t have. Either way she couldn’t deal with it. That’s why it was Celestia giving the eulogy.

That was why it was Celestia’s horn that glowed and lowered his casket into the ground.

That was why it was Celestia who said goodbye to him.

That’s why Celestia always got whatever she wanted.

One by one, the ponies at the funeral had given their last respects and left. The only consolation Luna had is that his friends, his real friends, his real family, had come up to her first and offered condolences. The rest, and there had been a fair bit more, always inquired after her sister instead.

And now her sister was the only other pony besides her left. Both of them were sitting and staring at the gravestone they had placed. Luna didn’t even bother to read what it said, it was probably wrong anyway.

“Celestia,” it was the first thing the alicorn had said in hours.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

It was just a simple question. It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t teasing. It still felt like both.

“How did you—”

“Luna, I’m not an idiot. All the time you spent away from court and you always happened to bring the Royal Fool along? The furtive glances, the blushing? You’ve spent this entire funeral just… shut down. You loved him.”

Luna just sat there.

“I did. I still do.”

Celestia turned to her, expression as stately and neutral as the practiced queen she was. Luna knew that look, and shut her eyes, preparing for a lecture, cringing…

Right as Celestia pulled her sister in with her wings, hugging her.

“I’m so sorry, baby sister. I wish you had told me. I thought you made a nice couple,” her sister whispered.

It was the final straw. The light teasing, the way she saw right through Luna’s facade. One of those hugs, full of warmth and feathers, like the kind Luna had sought back when they were fillies.

The kind that reminded her of the old Celestia. The big sister she looked up to. The one she could tell anything to. Not the spotlight stealer and, as far as Equestria was concerned, the only real ruling princess.

The big sister who was always there for her. Another kick from the foal she was carrying, as if telling her to take a leap of faith.

Luna broke the hug and pushed Celestia back, looking up at her.

“I need to show you something. I need to ask you something, Tia. And you have to promise me that you will not tell another pony, at all.”

“What are you—” Celestia blinked as Luna’s horn glowed, the illusion dropping and showing Luna tear-stained face, her enlarged belly. Celestia’s wings flared out in complete shock.

“Luna,” The older mare breathed in utter disbelief. “Is this…”

“Help me, Celestia. Please.”

Celestia looked the smaller alicorn up and down, eyes wet. Then she quickly pulled her back in for a hug, stroking her gently as Luna broke down, finally able to weep openly.

“I’m here, little sister. Always.”

Author's Note

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

1. Prologue

Princess Celestia, immortal alicorn, Equestria’s sole ruler, and raiser of the glorious and life-giving sun, had Princess Rules.

Princess Rules were different than laws, mind you. Laws had legality and precedent and applied, in theory, to all ponies equally across the land. But Princess Rules were different. There were no consequences for breaking them, officially. No judge, no jury, no executioner. But Princess Rules were there for her own sake. She established them in her mind because without the Princess Rules, she would merely be a pony wearing a tiara.

There was, for example Princess Rule #32 about Not Swearing. Ponies swore, of course. There was no law against it. However the Crown Princess of Equestria should be above vulgar language. There were lapses of course, but she prided herself on not having not broken #32 in three hundred years. The last time had been when she hit her hoof against a particularly hard table leg after a very long day. Thankfully, the historians were happy to have left out the time she shouted “MOTHERFUCKER!” loud enough to shake the castle’s rafters.

Because Princess Rule #1 said that if a Princess Rule must be broken, it needed to be broken for a good reason.

There was Princess Rule #515, which said that, if her court was in session, she simply couldn’t leave it whenever she liked. Wanting to go sample the kitchen’s latest baked goods was not a reason, no matter how much she wanted to.

But if your librarians stumbled across your little sister’s previously undiscovered journal detailing the location of yet another secret base, you could, however, drop everything and immediately rush off on a grand adventure. That was a good reason. It was the best reason.

Of course, only the court that she so justifiably neglected would see it as a grand adventure. For the Princess of the Sun, it was a trial. A tragedy in the making.

And another discovered reminder of how much she had failed Luna.

The sun blazed down across the desert plain, illuminating nothing but dunes and rock for miles and miles. Few things could survive in such an inhospitable place. Celestia was in her element though. The heat of the sun would never bother her, no matter how hard it blazed.

She supposed most ponies would complain about being stuck at the bottom of a dune having to excavate a ruin. Her companion certainly was.

“Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

“Sergeant, I’ve been informed that such a concept is fictional. You can speak your mind.”

“Right. Um… why am I here again?”

She smiled. “I did require magical protection during this excursion, and Unicorns in the Royal Guard are often so rare. I suppose the Pegasi are better suited for pulling one’s chariot.”

Of course, that was a lie. Celestia didn’t bring a guard along to be a guard. She wanted a conversation partner. It was nice to have someone to talk at.

“No luck?”

“Apologies, Princess. You’re right that there’s some sort of… I suppose it’s a door. A door. But there’s too much sand everywhere. I can’t get it open.”

“Sand? That’s simple enough.” Celestia motioned him out of the way, looking over the dune that still covered the doorway. “I’m guessing four, maybe five tons? A displacement spell would be most suitable, one thinks. But with that much matter shunted away I’ll be worried about any subsequent air cavitation and shockwaves, so you’ll probably need to-”

“Ma’am?”

“I need you to stand back until I clear it. Sorry, I don’t get out much, you know.” She offered an embarrassed smile.

“We’re very proud of that fact, ma’am.” The guard replied, stepping behind her.

Celestia’s horn glowed, and with a puff of magic the sand simply ceased, air rushing in to fill the vacuum and slamming the door open. Moving several tons of the stuff should have had more of a climactic sound effect, but the vast energies of the cosmos didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about what she was uncovering here.

Another one of her sister’s secret spots. Another one of them violated by her presence. She’d be ashamed later, and if she found any clue to saving Luna, she wouldn’t be ashamed at all.

With the door finally clear, both ponies peered into what was beyond it. Intricate stonework gave way to a hallway of complete darkness. Most ponies would be deterred at what was seemingly a tomb, but Celestia moved onwards, hoof tracing what she could see.

“Hm, sheer carved stone, that mural’s faded but you can definitely see the visage of Gusty the Great, glass switches for magic. I would say that we have, my dear Sergeant, stumbled upon a lost Skyrosian waystation.”, she lectured. If she had to admit anything, it’s that she wasn’t much of a scholar naturally. But, when you lived for centuries, you sort of didn’t so much become a historian as much as you became history itself.

“Ma’am?”

“See this metalworking? Solid tonal architecturally fashioned arcane copper. You’d only start to see widespread use of this in Equestria during the Late Pony Age at best. Skyros was advanced, even by our standards, though I doubt the main road that this would be by has survived five thousand years of neglect. But that—”

Celestia looked down at the guard, who had a glazed-over expression that she recognized all too well.

“Not a fan of the past I take it, Sergeant?”

“No ma’am.”

“Failed history class, did you?”

“I’m in the Royal Guard for a reason, ma’am.”

“Right.”

Celestia pondered to herself.

“Before… well back when Skyros was still a kingdom, ponies from around the world would travel there. The journey could be perilous, of course. So they had these little waystations set up. Usually they’d be stocked with food, safe from weather, and have bathrooms.”

The guard paused. “Ma’am, are you saying that we’re entering a… a highway rest stop?”

She smiled, a look of nostalgia washing over her. “A wise pony said that history doesn’t repeat, but it certainly rhymes.”

Turning back towards the darkness, Celestia shook herself and trotted down the hallway.

“Keep up, there’s history to be discovered!”, she laughed back to the guard.

“Princess, wait! Allow me to check for traps.”

“Come on now, I just explained to you that it’s a rest stop.” Celestia said. “I doubt the ancient Skyrosians would booby trap a bathroo-”

There was a small click as Celestia looked down at what she had just stepped on, right before her guard tackled to the ground.

“Get DOWN your highness!”

Both were hit by a harmless burst of air, but felt nothing else. Celestia got to her hooves, as did the guard, who looked embarrassed.

“Apologies, ma’am, I suppose one should learn to trust your intuition but-”

Celestia held up a hoof, her attention on the pressure plate beneath her.

“No, Sergeant, you made the right call. This IS a trap. But not one set by our ancestors. This is… newer. I mean, it’s very old. But it’s not part of the original construction.”

She sniffed.

“If you trust my intuition, as you say, then this would be about a thousand years old. A mere fraction of this structure’s age, but that’s not what confuses me.”

“Not what? Princess, are you saying you know who set these traps?”

Celestia smiled. The runework on the plates was perfect, the leylines better aligned than she’d seen even on the most studious alumni of her school. And this entire station was in far better condition than it should be. Someone had been doing restoration work, a thousand years ago.

And she only knew one pony who loved history and learning enough that they would travel to the middle of a desert to spend stars-knew-who-long fixing up an old ruin.

How many hours did you while away here, little sister? She thought. Was this where you wanted to come to get away from it all? The thought of Luna, meticulous as ever, brushing away the dust and slowly placing each floor tile back into place made her heart swell with loneliness.

She had expected this to be another one of Luna’s hideaways, but…

But then she frowned. Why the traps? And why-

“That burst of air should have been an accurate recreation of Bananacus’ Instant Hurricane. Quite the fan of instantaneous spells, Bananacus. Bananacus’s Instant Skeleton, Bananacus’ Instant Trenchcoat, Bananacus Instant Orgas-”

“Ma’am.”

“Sorry,” Celestia smirked. “What I’m trying to say is that it is a hurricane. The wind force on that should have ripped our skin clean off. The spell’s lacking power.”

“Perhaps it fizzled out ma’am? It has been a thousand years.”

Celestia shook her head. “The mare who set this up would be kicking herself if one of her spells lasted less than an eon. And look at this.” She pointed up to the ceiling.

“There’s nothing there ma’am.”

“Exactly. There should be at least some magic lanterns lighting the way, and those especially shouldn’t have gone out.”

“Are you saying they’ve been… drained of magic.”

Celestia paused.

“No… not drained. Being drained. Present tense. Something is actively taking the magic out of these spells.”

Both looked at one another, the unicorn’s horn suddenly alight, magic at the ready. The princess nodded. Now that they knew what to look for, they could feel it. Something indeed was siphoning a LOT of magic towards the end of the corridor. Slowly, they inched towards the threshold. A soft, blue glow could be seen in the room beyond.

Deadly traps, active magic siphons. Please let this be your doing Luna. Please still have been in control when you set this up.

Please tell me there was still something left of you, near the end.

With her guard insisting on going first, they finally entered the main room to finally find…

“What in Celestia’s name…” Muttered the sergeant.

The princess was right. Yes, something was actively siphoning magic.

She had just underestimated how much of it there was.

Auroras danced across through the air, swirling around pillars and tall ceilings as symbols and stars could be seen among them. Lines of raw, heavy magic. Plucked from everything remotely arcane from miles around, concentrated, and then filtered unrefined towards the center of the room, towards…

“It… It can’t be. That’s not…” Celestia stepped forward.

“Ma’am! Your highness! Wait, we don’t know how-” The guard yelled, but Celestia wasn’t listening. She was running, flying towards the center of the siphon, unable to contain the hope that was swelling in her heart. One she hadn’t felt in centuries.

At the heart of all the magical chaos floated a small pod, of sorts. Engraved silver and glass were woven in between black cloth that seemed to pulse and glow, like an arcane heartbeat. In many ways, it was a heartbeat.

And within the pod, nestled inside a soft blue blanket was a unicorn foal, sleeping peacefully. Her coat was lavender, and her mane indigo, with streaks of pink. The only clue to her identity was the string of engraved letters hung gently across the pod.

Twilight Sparkle

Luna had left something behind after all.

“Holy shit,” whispered Celestia, tears falling from her eyes.

“She’s alive.”

If you were going to break a Princess Rule, you’d want to break it for a good reason.

Author's Note

This was written as a Christmas present for my wife, love you babe.

Thanks to the discord for the proofread.

2. Coronation Cake

Pinkie Pie was sad.

It was a rare enough feeling that she felt it deserved its own sentence. She’d had a lot of near misses with sadness recently. When Twilight had blown up after finishing that spell, she had briefly considered flirting with a permanent case of the blues. But now, Twilight was back! And an alicorn! And soon to be a princess! And soon to be coronated! And who didn’t love a good coronation, even if Pinkie Pie wasn’t the one planning it.

She figured she should be sad about having been kicked out of the royal kitchens, but the joke was on them, she had already managed to bake for Twilight what was, in her opinion, the best Coronation Cake ever.

But no, that didn’t make her sad. And it wasn’t the fact that her Pinkie sense had given her an itchy nose and her hoof fell asleep shortly afterwards, which meant that she had to throw the entire Coronation Cake in the trash.

No point in baking a cake for someone who didn’t want it, her Pinkie sense had told her.

Oh. That was it. Twilight didn’t want her cake. Twilight didn’t want any cake. And a Twilight Sparkle that didn’t want cake was a Twilight Sparkle that was down in the dumps indeed.

Well if Twilight was upset then it was up to Pinkie Pie, as the newly appointed Princess Cheerer-Upper to officially cheer up the soon-to-be newly appointed princess. It didn’t matter if that title was something she had made up five seconds ago, she took her royal duties seriously.

“Twiiiiilllliiiiiiiiight! I think somebody needs cheering uuuuuuuup!” She hollered, stepping into one of Canterlot Castle’s many many studies. Sure enough, Twilight had transformed it into a makeshift sanctuary. Books sat in piles, stacks, and mounds, and in the center of it all sat a lavender alicorn, lost in concentration amongst the multiple tomes.

“Pinkie, I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

“Yep!”

“And it’s 10pm.”

“Yep!”

“And you managed to find me… how, exactly?”

“Irreverence for story conventions!” Pinkie said proudly.

“Huh?”

“Twilight, come on, you know me by now.” She plopped herself in front of her friend's study material, determined to take up the bulk of her attention like an oversized pink cat. “And you know that I know when you’re upset. And I know you’re upset.”

Twilight blinked “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re sad about becoming a princess and I came to cheer you up!”

“Oh Pinkie, I’m not upset over that anymore.”

“You- You’re not?”

“No see, it’s because I don’t have to be a princess!”

“But you’re an alicorn now! Alicorns have to be princesses! Or princes, I guess.”

“Equestria’s had a lot of ponies that have ascended to become alicorns throughout its history, but none of them were royalty.” Twilight countered.

“They weren’t princesses?”

Twilight scooched closer, levitating the various books she’d be reading. “It’s fascinating. I theorize that, as Equestria became more peaceful, and magic became better understood, there simply was less opportunity for ponies to prove themselves worthy. But centuries ago you’d have alicorns popping up all over the place and all the time. Well I mean, comparatively speaking.”

“Then where are they now? You’d think Celestia would mention a few alicorns waiting in the wings, bet those guys would have been useful one or two times in the past,” Pinkie looked around. She wished she hadn’t thrown out the cake, now she could use it.

“They’re um… they’re all dead.” Twilight looked down sadly. “Being an alicorn doesn’t make one invincible. Or grant them caution, apparently. But the main thing is they weren’t princesses!”

“I don’t think that’s the point of the book-”

“See here, Indominia the Boisterous became an alicorn after stopping a landslide with her magic. Sure she died ten years later when a living mountain sat on her, but she could hardly be blamed for that.”

“And see here? Chronosia the Persistent ascended after pioneering a whole field of time spells, including the foundation of modern timeturning as we know it! But she wasn’t a princess, even though Celestia let her found the Royal Timekeeper Society.”

“And?”

“What?”

“Well, where is she now?”

“Oh uh…” Twilight scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “She tried to develop a spell that would allow her to witness the birth of our universe, or so she claimed. Nobody knows because when she cast it she immediately exploded.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh but look. Lux Lantern? He was an Earth pony that managed to save Equestria from a plasmoid invasion and ascended, but he remained part of his family’s lantern making business until his untimely death by-” She turned the page. Both ponies stared in horror, before Pinkie slammed the book close, her face green. Twilight tried not to puke.

“Ew ew ew ew!!! Just tell ponies next time, we don’t need a picture!” Pinkie said, push the book as far away from her as she could.

“Why would they even ILLUSTRATE that?!” Twilight shrieked.

“Put a warning label on it next time, Mister Printer!”

Both ponies looked at each other, then started giggling.

“Celestia, I can’t believe they put that in a book.” Twilight laughed.

“In full color!”

“In full color too! It’s not even a photo, someone had to ink all that in!”

“Hope they got hazard pay!”

Pinkie calmed down finally, having realized something else.

“What about Cadance? She’s a princess AND she wasn’t born an alicorn.”

Twilight flipped through another book’s pages, shaking her head and pointing to a passage on the page.

“Cadance isn’t a princess because Celestia took her in, she’s a princess because she’s- see here, she’s the direct descendant of Princess Amore, the Crystal Empire’s ruler before Sombra took over.”

“The point is that every Princess in Equestria was either related to the Royal Sisters in some way, adopted or not, or royalty from another pony dynasty. And… I’m not.”

“You did call Celestia ‘mom’ once.”

“That was an accident! I was eight years old! And I told you that in confidence when I was drunk.”

“I’ve kept that secret as safe as Grandma Pie’s rock soup recipe, Twilight. It just kindaaaa sounds like to me you’re making the princess annexing the Crystal Empire the same thing as you getting rewarded for saving the world like…” She paused, thinking. “Forty six times?”

“Celestia didn’t annex the Crystal Empire. She merely restored the rightful princess to its throne.”

“The rightful princess.”

“Yes.”

“That Celestia found.”

“Yes!”

“And raised and put in charge of the empire alongside the former captain of the Equestrian Royal Guard.”

“...Yes?”

“So she annexed the Crystal Empire.”

“Pinkie!”

“Twilight!” She grinned back at her friend.

“Are you trying to distract me? There’s a bigger issue here than the Crystal Empire’s politics.”

Grabbing the book in her mouth, Pinkie plopped it on her head, turning the pages with her tongue.

“It’s all politics, silly! I’m just kind of confused why you wouldn’t WANT to be a princess. Come to think of it, why did you not expect to be a princess? Your element turned into a crown the first time you put it on. Seems like a big destiny thing to me.”

“Because I didn’t—” She took the book back from Pinkie, wiping some of her slobber off. “What if it changes things in Ponyville? Between my friends? Between… between us.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Twilight blushed. “I just… I just wanted to study magic and hang out with you girls. I don’t want ponies to suddenly see me as… as something I’m not.”

“A world-saving super pony that wields a super artifact that’s also her crown?”

“You’re acting like nothing’s changed!”

“Because it hasn’t Twilight!” Pinkie pulled the book back. “You’re still you, silly wings or not. You’re still Twilight and you’re still our friend. Lookie here, the first thing you did was to try and dig through some old book to find a solution to a problem you over-imagined. And here I am, good old Pinkie Pie, making you see the silver lining to this little raincloud.”

She flipped through some of the pages, pointing at various articles.

“See, look at this. You could mark places as national historical landmarks and they’d get allll kinds of benefits. Golden Oaks would be like, some big important thing and look here—”

She flipped to another page.

“Say here when it comes to document requisitions you get-” She squinted. “Special dispensation regarding sensitive information and waitlist priority. Neat! Looks like you could just waltz right in and read Bananacus’ Instantaneum without having to do anything but flash your… princess card. Or something.”

Twilight’s eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets. “The Instantaneum? The entire collection?”

“That’s what they gave as an example,” Pinkie said, pointing to the book. Twilight grabbed it, staring at the passage.

“T-that’s— There's a fifteen year waitlist for just one volume. I could just go in and read the entire work?”

“See!” Pinkie beamed. “You got so concerned over the bridges you might burn that you forgot to look for the doors you will be opening.”

“I could read Nazbor the Leaned’s original necromantic pathfinding treatises. Or the forbidden Thirty Seventh Lesson of Milk Taker! You can’t normally read those unless you’re over sixty years old!”

“Exactly! So… better?” Pinkie pushed her head underneath Twilight’s chin, letting her cotton candy hair puff up around Twilight’s muzzle.

She smells like coffee cake… thought Twilight.

“Better,” Twilight sighed, smiling. “But I still want to at least bring this up to the Princesses.”

“So long as you remember that this is your big day and your big reward. NOT a punishment.”

“I know.”

“Promise me you’ll give it a chance.”

“I pinkie promise.”

“And let me bake you a Coronation Cake?”

“Can you—”

“I can make it a coffee cake.”

“...Okay.”

“Yay!” Hopping out from underneath her alicorn friend, Pinkie Pie moved to the door. “You got a lot taller, by the way. I like it.”

“Pinkie…”

“Yessssss?” The pink mare turned back towards her.

“You had that book on your head for about a minute. How did you manage to read the entire section on royal privileges? That’s forty pages.”

“Pssh! Speed reading’s an essential party planning skill. Watch!” Pinkie walked over to a nearby novel, and slapped it on her head before shaking it off, pages flipping around as the book landed perfectly back on the shelf.

“Oh.” Pinkie said morosely.

“What? What?” Twilight asked.

“It was all just a metaphor for aging and the inevitable passage of time in the face of an unloving universe. That’s sad.”

“P-pinkie. That was a three hundred page novel!”

“Yeah but the prose was D.R.Y.! Leave the thesaurus at the zoo, nobody’s impressed, am I right? I hope that author finds a girlfriend.”

Twilight sat there, stunned. It had taken her a week to get through that particular tome, and she liked the prose in it.

“Pinkie… you’re amazing.”

“Huh?”

Twilight blushed. “I mean. T-that’s amazing.”

“Aw, thanks!” And she trotted out of the library, leaving Twilight with a flushed face and a lingering smell of baked goods.

“Tonight.”

Celestia looked up from her morning tea, over to her sister sitting next to her. Traditionally, the Royal Table of the Royal Sisters had two thrones at each end where each would sit. Given that the table was over forty feet long, they usually opted to sit next to each instead. It saved time and saved having to shout “WHAT DID YOU SAY? HUH?” over and over again, both of which violated several Princess Rules.

Tonight, Luna had said. The night of Twilight’s coronation. There could only be one thing she was talking about.

“You’re sure, Luna? You said you wanted to wait until you were ready. Are you?”

Her younger sister shifted nervously. Celestia sympathized.

“I am… No. I am not ready, Tia. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I should have brought it up at Cadance’s wedding, or at—”

“Nightmare Night?” finished Celestia. “That’s why you said you had gone to Ponyville, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just about the festivities.”

“I had traveled there in hopes of breaking the news, but I suppose I became… sidetracked. Perhaps there will be other chances,” Luna looked down at her cup and shrugged. “But how does the saying go? Might as well hack the leg off and get used to the peg?”

“Who said that?”

“He did. Sometimes,” Luna said, sadly.

“Ah.”

They sat there in silence, until Luna spoke up.

“She’s going to want to abdicate.”

“I know,” Celestia replied simply.

“She’s going to be upset when I tell her.”

“I know.”

Luna hesitated, looking downcast. “Will you… will you come with me? I don’t think I can do this alone.”

Celestia wrapped a wing around her.

“I’m here, little sister. Always.”

As far as coronations went, Twilight had found her own coronation to be perfectly above average. It was also, technically, the only coronation she had been to. She assumed most of them involved the same amount of singing, the same amount of uncomfortable formalwear, and the same amount of socializing with foreign and domestic dignitaries.

Endless socializing. Endless, endless celebrating. All useless smiles and useless small talk and uselessly trying to remember the names of nobles who she was pretty sure not even a week ago wouldn’t have given her a second glance, Celestia’s favored student or not.

But this was what being a princess was.

This is what being a princess would always be.

Try as she might, each drop of socialization eroded away her promise to Pinkie Pie, bit by bit. Never had she felt less like she wanted to be at her own party than now.

Finally, after hours of what felt like the most grueling marathon she’d ever run, it ended. Guests filtered out, and even her friends returned to their own rooms for the night. Exhausted, Twilight found herself alone in a ballroom with nothing but her thoughts and worries, staring at the floor as she tried to work up the courage to make sense of her own mind.

Stars, she was tired.

The doors at the end opened as quietly as two enormous bronze slabs could open, letting in two more of Equestria’s alicorn royalty. Quietly, as quietly as two enormous immortal ponies could move, they glided over to her.

Celestia looked at Luna, Luna looked at Celestia, and each of them wrapped a wing around her, pulling her into a light hug.

Her mentor finally spoke. “We wanted to wait until everypony had gone by, Twilight. There’s things we need to discuss.”

Twilight said nothing.

“It’s a lot of work, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“You did wonderfully, dear. This was the hard part, believe me.”

She shrugged. Celestia tried to put on her best smile.

“I’d hazard a guess that you’d simply like to get back to Ponyville right now, hmm?”

Did she? What did she want right now? If she was being really honest, she wanted to just be with her friends. Around Pinkie, of all ponies. Partying seemed like the last thing on her mind, but for some reason being around Pinkie didn’t feel like it’d be exhausting. It never was.

After all, the coronation cake had been coffee cake. And it tasted wonderful.

I gave it a chance. I promised her, and I did but—

She swallowed, and pushed the wings away.

I’m so sorry Pinkie, but all this isn’t me.

“I want to abdicate.”

The two remaining princesses exchanged a look with each other, Luna in particular giving her older sister a glance that seemed to read ‘You knew this was coming, now deal with it’ and nudging Celestia forward.

“Twilight, I know all of this is a big change for you. If you would listen—”

“Hold on a second, Princess. I know you’ve got some big speech prepared about responsibility and how I deserve this and I passed all your tests but let’s be honest, it’s one thing to make me an alicorn, and I won’t argue with that, but a princess? Nope, nuh uh.”

“Twilight.”

“No…. wait, wait. I’ve got a whole lecture prepared, if you’d give me a second,” blinking through her tiredness, she focused her magic and a few copies of the books she’d been studying popped into the room, hopefully scrubbed of any… images that maybe have been upsetting. She was certain Celestia probably had seen worse, given some of the swords on display in the royal armory, but there was no reason to cause undue stress.

“Me not being a princess wouldn’t get in the way of any sort of royal proclamations or upset precedent. If anything, me being a princess would be worse, can you imagine how many noble houses are going to be in an uproar once they realize what me being a princess would even entail. And more importantly it’s not like me being an alicorn means I have to be a princess, right? I mean you’ve got—” she floated over the pages to Celestia, who took them wordlessly. “More than a few ascended alicorns in Equestria’s history that never ended taking any sort of throne or crown or had to have those responsibilities or ended up having all their friends see them differently and never want to talk to them or have to contend with probably deadly court politics or be forced to entertain royal suitors that have weird chins and—”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. Twilight took a deep breath.

“What I mean is… I can’t do this. I know the coronation is over already, but I’m not a princess. I can accept being an alicorn, and all the preening that comes with it. But everything else? I’d uh…” She took off the crown. “I’d like to return it. It’s not mine.”

She smiled awkwardly as she finished her speech. She hadn’t practiced it, but she had definitely memorized it in its entirety the night before, including the Twilighting bit in the middle. She figured it made it sound more sincere.

But the princess didn’t look impressed, or even intrigued. She just looked nervous.

“Twilight… Your coronation doesn’t matter in that way.”

“What?” Twilight’s face fell.

“It’s a formality. A way to introduce you to society and legitimize any noble claims. The title and all that comes with it have… they have always been yours.”

“Always been mine? Princess Celestia, what are you saying? Did you… did you expect me to become an alicorn?” Twilight shied back. “Was this… did you plan this? Did you plan this from the start?”

“I’m not talking about your ascension, Twilight. There are things that one hopes for, but this isn't about destiny. Not in this case. It’s about...” Celestia struggled to find the words. “Heritage.”

“Then what—” She looked about the room. Both princesses were avoiding her gaze. “I’m not - Princess, I'm not nobility by blood. My family’s well off and there’s ancestry but… I’m pretty sure we’re descended from Earth Pony courtiers! Nobility is… there are unicorn families out there that could trace their ancestry all the way back to Gusty the Great, way farther back than mine.”

Her confusion was met with silence.

“Can someone PLEASE explain to me what’s going on?”

“It’s… not my place to tell you, Twilight. It’s hers,” Celestia pointed to Luna, who had spent the entire time since looking away. Now she stepped towards Twilight, levitating an envelope towards her. It trembled in her magic, and Twilight suddenly realized she had never seen Luna look like this… this afraid.

Luna was terrified. Twilight eyed the envelope, which was sealed by a glowing golden wax mark. She gasped.

“This… this is a top level royal seal! Only a princess can open one of these!”

“It is your right,” said Luna quietly, passing it to her.

It surprised her how easily the seal opened. Twilight had expected something a bit less anticlimactic. Maybe what was inside wasn’t the secrets of the universe, or a missive detailing that the entire royal family were aliens. But then what was everyone so afraid of?

And why was it rubbing off on her? She began to pull the sheet of paper out. Just a single sheet of paper, lifting it close to her head to get a good look.

She read it.

And then she read it again.

And then a third time. Then a fourth.

“Twilight…” Pleaded Luna.

“This is… You can’t… Then…”

She looked down at the paper. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She couldn’t believe her brain. She couldn’t believe anything anymore.

CERTIFICATE OF ADOPTION
This certifies that
Twilight Sparkle
Has been formally adopted by
Twilight Velvet
Night Light
Granting herewith all rights and privileges as a member of their family.

The dates and signatures were all undeniable. The seal was undeniable.

It was real.

“I’m… I’m adopted?”

Luna nodded.

“But then… if I’m… there’s a royal seal.”

“Breathe, Twilight. You are panicking, and it will pass.”

“If my parents… if they aren’t—” She swallowed, tears forming in her eyes as she started to hyperventilate. “Who…”

“Who are my… my…”

“Your birth parents?”, finished Luna. Twilight nodded. Luna said nothing in response. She just stared at her.

And then it all hit Twilight at once.

Just a formality.

The title had always been hers.

She wasn’t crowned a princess because she had become an alicorn.

She had been crowned a princess because…

Because…

Because she was born a princess.

And she’d only be born a princess is if—

Is if her mother—

If her mother was—

Her legs weak, her stomach churning, she looked up at Luna. Luna smiled back at her, gently, calmingly.

Caringly.

There were tears in her eyes too.

“Hello there, my little star,” whispered her mother.

The world spun around her, and Twilight fell to the floor unconscious.

“Well,” admitted Celestia finally, “All things considered, she took it better than I expected.”

Author's Note

Here we go, second longer fic up and running. This chapter's dedicated to the twenty thousand unfinished Twilight-Is-Luna's-Daughter fics out there. Shine on you crazy diamonds, you.

Thanks to the discord and TrollyTrainer for the proofread.

3. The Fool and the Trick

Be good, don’t rock the boat. Don’t make waves. Go in, entertain, but don’t mingle. You’re not a guest, you’re part of the act.

Do that, do it right, and the alicorn princesses wouldn’t execute you.

That last part didn’t make a lot of sense to him. But then, he didn’t know a lot of alicorns. The only alicorn he knew had been the pinata that Surprise had made for their finals in Party Favors. And she had only gotten a B- on that. The professor said it lacked a good satirical edge. Which… probably meant that the newly crowned princess of the newly enprincessed Equestria weren’t the kind of princesses to execute someone for a bad joke.

But he’d be offended at the implication that he’d ever tell a bad joke. That was why he was here, wasn’t he? Top of his class, studied under Professor Top directly, youngest-ever pony to win a Golden Bell. All that hard work, all that studying.

All of it for this. A royal chance for a permanent royal position. Professor Top was taking a well-earned retirement, and now there were big floppy shoes to fill. Big indeed, as Professor Big Top had been a pony who came from a generation of comical geniuses that thought that the larger the pony, the larger the laughs. “Jolly” might have been used by his audience to describe him, because they certainly had never been late to one of his lectures to think otherwise.

Ponies didn’t understand just how much effort went into this kind of work. Pride and practice, blood and sweat, skill and patience.

Without any of those, a Royal Fool was just an imbecile that jingled.

Yet here he was, tonight’s entertainment, not making waves. The Fool sighed. Maybe it was the makeup. He never understood the point of it. He took pride in his lavender blue coat, why hide it under a layer of paint. At least let him design his own face.

Right, contemplate that later. Don’t rock the boat full of ponies ignoring you.

Some hushed “ooohs” and polite applause drew his attention, and he noticed a small crowd around a pair of bright red ponies balancing on one another, an orange glow amongst them.

Oh. Looks like the Firemouth twins managed to get in after all. Good for them, shame he hadn’t been around to watch them defend their fire-eating thesis.

Flame Firemouth, the twin currently not downing a hoof full of hot death, caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, motioning her head to the crowd around her. He knew that look too well.

Better get a move on, Fool. They’ll only be entertained if you give them a show.

Right then. They wanted a Royal Fool, they’d get a Royal Fool.

Taking up in a corner of the room not dominated by politicking unicorns and pegasi officers trying to look intimidating in fake armor, he took the deepest breath he’d dare take and reached into his sack, jingling slightly.

If he knew these ponies better, he’d have told jokes. Closer still, maybe an act with squirting flowers or something that honked. Whoopie cushions, if it was a truly intimate event, or maybe a rubber chicken if he was feeling particularly daring. But that was too high concept, too much setup. Nobility wanted things that were simple, elegant, form-laden.

So he did what he did best: he juggled.

Three balls entered the air, falling slowly in a circle. A few ponies looked back at him, then back to whatever was more interesting. Which was most things. Three balls in a circle was the stuff of foals. Not Fools, and not Royal Fools.

Still, as he warmed up the Fool let himself slip into two minds. The first one could keep watch, survey, judge the crowd and pass the secrets of their smiles onto the second mind for processing and adjustment.

The second mind held the Trick, and nothing more.

Three balls become four balls, then five balls. He looked across the room, trying to see if he could spot- Yes, there she was. It was hard to miss her.

Rumor had it that the Princesses weren’t much older than he was, barely into his second decade, yet she towered over even the oldest pegasus generals that surrounded her. Bright white, a pink mane that seemed to shimmer just a bit. Wings and a horn. Laughing politely at a not-so-funny joke, undoubtedly.

Yes, their new Princess Celestia certainly had regality down to a practiced art. He’d have tipped his jingling hat to her, one professional to another, were his duties not so serious.

Still though, weren’t there two alicorn princesses? Six balls, seven balls. His eyes strained, scanning the corners for what he might have missed, until he finally found her.

The younger princess looked all the world like her sister’s opposite. He supposed she was, day and night and all that. Celestia had been a shining beacon of sociability that was the center of attention in the same way the planets orbited the sun. Her baby sister was less a wallflower and more an entire cliffside garden, all dark colors, and one angst shy of a brooding. She had taken up near the corner of one of the ballroom’s grandiose windows, staring out across the crowd. She looked… not quite unhappy, but disinterested. Content to ignore and be ignored by the nobility that seemed, to him, to give her a wide berth.

That, he thought, is the look of a princess who does not want to be at her own party.

Eight balls, nine balls, ten balls. He wondered if she had noticed him? A few of the guests were starting to. He wasn’t surprised. The best jugglers he knew could do fifteen balls, he was up to ten.

By the time he was done, he’d do thirty.

His record was forty.

And he knew each ball like the back of his own hooves. After all, his own hooves had crafted each one.

But more than just the number of balls, it was about the patterns. A simple rise-and-fall would never pass Professor Top’s class. He had gone above and beyond that, and now the balls flipped through the air in patterns of color. They criss-crossed one another, sometimes hanging too high, or too low, or arcing to the left before pulling to the right quickly. Each one falling back down to his waiting hooves to be granted their next acrobatic assignment.

It was never just intuition. Intuition was for imbeciles with bells. Fools studied, Fools practiced, Fools calculated. He had spent sleepless nights pouring over the formulas for each one.

After that, it was just a matter of getting the spin right. He supposed it would be less impressive if a unicorn were simply levitating them.

But the Fool was an earth pony.

More balls joined in the dance. Fifteen, twenty, twenty five, thirty.

The princess, the dark one by the wall, had come over to him now and was watching the display. Her head tilted as the balls spun, trying to make sense of the impossible orbits the orbs inhabited. She was squinting, studying, trying to figure out the trick even as the balls moved faster and faster. As each one passed, he would check it off a mental list, refreshing it as need be.

Crimson red, abyssinian rubber. Two stone weight, gives 2% less than standard juggling average. She smells like lavender. Two inches hubward, five degree adjustment.

Sunlit yellow, magically manufactured rubber. Bounces three times stronger than the Happyface Custardpants established scale standard for Professional Jugglers, also falls curved. Are all alicorns that tall? Compensate for properties, eighteen degree adjustment for the curve.

And on they went. Rubber spheres were tornadoes, loop-de-loops, figure-eights inside figure-eights. Each pass faster, each ball in its place. Every shift brought more gasps from the crowd, though the princess, given a wide berth, remained silent.

The Fool was happy that nobody asked him to tell jokes right now. He didn’t trust himself to speak, because his body wasn’t his anymore. He was a conduit, a puppet for the Trick, merely its mortal shell sent to this realm to bless those around him.

And it wasn’t over yet. Without missing a beat, he reached for his final bits of material. The puzzle piece that turned a prank into a true masterpiece.

Two pies. He had baked them himself. Now, they joined the dance.

The dark princess gasped, and he grinned. The Trick would allow him that much.

Faster went the balls and pies, no longer content with such simple patterns and loops before. His face was serene, his hooves were a blur. Thirty balls and two cream pies became an elephant, a tiger, a two-wheeled cart. More dimensions, more complexity; a juggling act worthy of an alicorn.

A small part of him noticed the sheer size of the crowd that had gathered around him. The band had stopped playing, even the Fire twins had stopped and were watching him with mouths agape.

But none of them mattered. Nobody mattered but the alicorn edging closer to him, watching him, not taking her cyan eyes off him. Enraptured.

They locked eyes, finally.

Stars, she was beautiful.

All at once, the Trick had found its target, and ceased.

With one final flick of his hooves, the balls cascaded around the princess, swirling in one final cyclone of color and depositing themselves back in his satchel.

But the creampies remained suspended in midair, spinning and hovering as she looked up at them and—

His body no longer the vessel for comedic gods, the Fool’s mind snapped back to reality as he realized the horror of what was about to occur.

He had gotten full marks for this trick because it had a victim. Especially because it had a victim.

The magic of anticipation now gone, twin pies descended right onto the face of one half of Equestria’s ruling family.

Shit.

Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd. It was over. His head would be on the chopping block by tomorrow; they’d turn him to stone and leave his headless body in a courtyard as a warning to future Fools.

Shouldn’t have rocked the boat. At least he’d go out having given it his all.

Blinking in disbelief, the shocked princess reached a hoof up to her face, and took a taste of the pie.

She grinned. Her smile was the shape of a crescent moon.

“My compliments to the chef,” she said, then she laughed.

The tension faded out of the room as the other nobles laughed as well. There need not be an execution, and the joke, like the pies, had landed.

The music resumed, the party-goers mingled away from the Fool, though the Flame twins remained, ribbing him and singing his praises. But the Fool didn’t hear the music, or the mingling, or even his friend’s compliments. Only one sound filled his mind.

That laugh! That incredible laugh. As clear as a cosmic bell, filled with the joy of a billion stars that knew all the jokes the universe hadn’t let ponies in on yet. He’d juggle a thousand balls, he’d juggle flaming swords, he’d juggle the moon itself just to hear her laugh again.

Anything, just to see Princess Luna happy again.

The Fool now knew what the makeup was for. It helped hide the deep blush she had slapped across his face. And she had done it with a smile.

Author's Note

There, now that "Clownfucker" t-shirt Twilight found in Luna's closet finally makes sense.

Thanks to the discord and Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

4. Lucid Shores

Twilight Sparkle stood on the shores of a moonlit lake. In retrospect, it seemed a little too on the nose. Right now, the moon was the last thing she wanted to look at. At least it was peaceful, no sound except for the lapping of the waves, no other pony save for her.

And her… mother.

“I know when I’m unconscious, you know. And I can see you there, Princess.”

The darkness behind her parted, and Luna stepped out. Twilight regarded her for a moment, then turned back to look at the waves.

“When I was a filly I used to dream, that is… I mean,” she gave a grunt. “I used to fantasize about somewhere else I could go when ponies just became… overwhelming. I had read a book about a pony who used to go down to the shore of the lake he lived near.”

Twilight sat there, watching the moon rise over the horizon of the lake.

“I imagined myself there. Nothing but the quiet of the moon and the gentle sound of waves against the gravel. I’d skip rocks.”

She pawed at the rocks underneath, expressionless.

“You know, ever since I became an alicorn, all my dreams have been lucid dreams. I thought it was just something we did. It didn't matter much, I was just happy to be at the beach I always wanted to go to.”

Horn glowing, she levitated one of the larger rocks in her magic, and sent it flying across the lake. It hit the water and dropped straight in with a very rock-like splash.

“Cadance said she didn’t dream like this though, and neither did Celestia. I simply assumed it was some power that was unique to me. I should have known better.”

Another rock, another splash.

“I just wish I wasn’t so damn awful at skipping rocks. Even in my dreams, I can’t do it.”

Luna looked over to her, before levitating a rock of her own and sending it sailing across the water. It too landed with an unsatisfying splash.

“Evidently, neither can I,” she said quietly.

Twilight finally turned to her, fixing her… mother with a cold hard stare.

“Twilight… I know you have a lot of questions, I know, but I—”

“How?”

Luna paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re right. I have so many questions about all of this, but the one that I’m trying to wrap my head around more than anything is how? You were banished over a thousand years ago. I’ve seen baby pictures in photo albums at my parents house and I know I grew up normally,” she hesitated. “Relatively speaking.”

She glared at her… her mother. “This isn’t some sort of situation where I’m actually a thousand years old and you’re all going to age me instantly or something where alicorns age at a slower rate and I’m actually an alicorn toddler. Wait, that doesn’t make any sense, I was born a unicorn. Wasn’t I, I–” Luna held up a hoof.

“Twilight, please, relax. You were not born an alicorn, and, biologically, you are the age you think you are. But… you were born a thousand years ago.”

“Right. Right that’s what I thought,” Twilight shook her head. “So then…”

Luna thought for a moment, then her horn glowed. The dream shifted, the surface of the lake rippling as a small cradle rose out of it and floated over to the two alicorns. Even in the dream, it seemed to hum with arcane power.

“Do you know what this is?” She asked.

Twilight squinted, then gasped. “A Panacea? Stars, an intact Panacea! I’ve only ever seen pieces or sketches,” she squinted. “It’s… a lot smaller than I expected.”

“The sketches you’ve seen were sketches for a reason. Do you know how it works?

Twilight nodded, this was all ancient history, and thus, something she’d easily memorized. “It’s a magic siphon: it pulls in ambient thaumic energy to power a constant spell. In this case, a long-term healing aura,” she smiled, recalling old lessons. “Of course, that kind of healing magic would take a huge amount of energy to work, even with modern spellcraft.”

“The ancient Skyrosians learned early on that if they had made it any larger, such as say, for an adult pony, the siphon would leave a lifeless wasteland fifty miles around it,” Luna noted Twilight’s shocked expression. “Ultimately the only ones ever forged were used for very young, very ill foals.”

Twilight was taken aback. “Ill?”

Luna nodded, her eyes wet. Whatever memory she was thinking about, it was painful.

“You were sick. You were so very sick. It was a plague of dark magic, the very same thing that…” She took a deep breath. “The sickness would have ravaged you, killed you as it— I was not in my right mind at the time. I was young, I was mourning, I was scared. So I panicked. I placed you within this cradle and hid you away to be restored.”

“But then how—”

“But the Panacea does not just heal, it suspends. Feed it enough magic, and you can keep the occupant unchanged and alive indefinitely. I do not know if its creators even intended for such use, nor… nor did I.”

Luna reached out for her, but Twilight shied back, just enough to make the older alicorn hesitate. She hung her head in shame.

“I swore I'd come back for you. I needed you safe. Stars, more than anything I needed that,” she whispered the confession out. “Please, please believe me. You weren't to be hidden for a thousand years. I had hoped…”

Understanding flashed in Twilight’s eyes. “Your banishment. This was part of why… why you became Nightmare Moon.”

The other alicorn shrugged her wings, dejectedly. “I thought that if Celestia remained in power she might… might… that she would…” Luna gave up. “I suppose I’ve gotten no better at communicating even ten centuries later. Not that it matters…”

Luna finally lifted her head. She was crying.

“I know you have so many questions, I will answer them, I promise. But please, do it in the waking world. I need you, my little star.”

“Please.”

Twilight paused. Need. That was a hard word to think about right now. What did Twilight need right now? What did she want right now?

Pinkie. I’d want her here. I bet she could skip a rock like nopony’s business, then tell me that’d it all be okay and wouldn’t stop trying to hug me or get close to me until she thought I was okay.

And… and she’d tell me to give Luna a chance.

She was mad. Hell, she was furious, even asleep her chest burned and, just thinking about anything hurt. But she wasn’t the only pony who was hurting. Luna had spent a thousand years, a thousand years trapped on the moon, not knowing if her only daughter was alive or dead.

And then to come back, to find her grown, to find that you’d missed out all those years of your daughter’s life?

Luna needed her. Her mother, no, her friend needed her.

Twilight paused, then slowly, carefully, edged towards Luna. Hesitant (stars, she was still so mad), she moved to rest her head beneath the other alicorn’s, trying to wrap her wings around her and failing.

“Okay,” said Twilight quietly. “I want to try.”

If nothing else, Luna was big enough to make her feel like a filly, and the tears she could feel falling down on her mane stirred up something that wasn’t quite yet daughterly guilt, but something adjacent to it.

Luna pushed her back finally, taking her head in her hoof and lifting her chin so that their eyes were level. The princess took a long hard sniff, trying to compose herself back to a state of acceptable royalty. No doubt several Princess Rules had been broken.

“Then awaken, dearest daughter. We have much to discuss and it… It won’t be easy.”

“Right,” Twilight nodded, looking around. “Uh. How do I wake up?”

“You don’t know that spell?” Luna tilted her head.

“Who was going to teach it to me? Celestia?” Twilight paused, suddenly realizing something. “I… I’ll need to talk to her as well.”

“She will be overjoyed, my little star. She likes to be an aunt.”

Author's Note

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

5. No Coincidences

She was alive. Twilight Sparkle was alive. Her niece was alive.

Celestia wanted to frolic, to dance. She wanted to scream with joy until her throat hurt, but that’d violate Princess Rule #78.

But more importantly, it’d wake up Twilight.

With the help of the guard she had stopped the magic siphon as soon as she was sure she could disconnect the Panacea safely, and within minutes had teleported all three of them back to the castle, deep inside Celestia’s private chambers. With the pod safely secure, Celestia had slowly turned off the various bits of spellwork inside it, not wanting to move too quickly.

But it was done. The pod was deactivated, the stasis over. All she had to do was wait.

“She’ll be okay, your highness?” The guard leaned over her. It was actually admirable how worried he looked.

“The Panacea kept her healthy, all these years,” Celestia smiled to herself. “I daresay that until I switched it off, she was for a time the most ‘okay’ filly in all of Equestria. As for what comes next… I think I’ve got it handled. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”

“Captain?”

“Rescuing a princess deserves a promotion, don’t you think? After all, you’ve displayed all the qualities of a Royal Guard Captain ten times over. Including a commitment to secrecy.” Celestia leveled a knowing look at the new captain.

He swallowed. “Not a word to anyone, I take it?”

“Would a captain risk the safety of a foal for the sake of his own ego?” She said, motioning to the pod.

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Dismissed, Captain.”

The guard turned to leave, but hesitated when he got to the door.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Is… is she yours?”

“No, Captain.”

“Then…”

Celestia sighed, looking down at the sleeping filly. “She is someone I spent two hundred years trying to find. And someone I spent almost eight hundred more years thinking she was lost forever.”

She layed down, nuzzling Twilight gently. “I won’t lose her again.”

“Understood ma’am. And… I’m sorry.”

He left, closing the door behind him.

Celestia sat there, staring at the door, certain she could hear the hustle and bustle of the midday castle outside. Her schedule would require her to hold court, attend functions, settle the fears of various posh nobles with accents almost incomprehensible. Her usual day-to-day business.

None of that mattered right now. She could cancel, what would they do, complain to her manager? Somepony else needed her more now.

Right on cue, a gentle snuffle and yawn from the Panacea caused her ears to perk up. She trotted back, unable to help but grin at the grumpy little face of the foal before her.

“Well hello again sweetheart! You certainly picked up a good century to wake up in. We’ve got these things called plastic keys now, and I have a feeling they’re going to be a real hit with you.”

Her niece blinked slowly at her, once, twice. With no milk bottle having magically appeared in front of her, Twilight took the only logical course of action: She threw her head back and started screaming.

“Good to see you too, dear,” said Celestia, rolling her eyes.

Evidently a thousand years trapped inside an ancient artifact hadn’t dulled the filly’s appetite in the least. It wasn’t surprising that she’d probably be starving, having not had a meal in almost a millennium.

Milk. Right. That meant she needed a milk bottle. Formula too. And diapers. Wipes. Toys! Her poor niece had spent centuries dreaming, who knows what that would have done for her mental development. Or something.

Celestia had had apprentices and personal students before, fillies and colts whose arcane potential she had happily nurtured. But they had been older, several years at the minimum and with a control over their magic she could teach. Raising a baby was new territory entirely, her interactions with them limited to the occasional encounter with one of the staff’s foals or kissing them for a canned photo opportunity. Even Cadance probably had more experience with them.

Cadance. Right. Introducing her two nieces to each other would be its own can of worms, best to focus on the problem in front of her: one very indignant very hungry little unicorn.

First, a soundproofing spell on the royal quarters. Keeping Twilight hidden from whatever the nobility had decided passed for courtly intrigue these days would need to be top priority, long term. Rumors of a crying baby in Celestia’s bedroom would only raise questions.

Her private fridge held some milk behind the slices of cake that she had taken from the cake vault, and she could easily conjure a bottle, at least temporarily. As for everything else…

Celestia cracked open the door to her study. “Miss Inkwell?”

A young aide materialized out of the castley aether, ready to serve. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“I’ll need a pony to head down to the Commercial District and pick up everything on this list, as soon as possible preferably,” she levitated a scroll over to her newest aide. “Give them access to the royal fund, if need be.”

“Yes ma’am. Shall I have these delivered to your quarters, or will you require these taken to the throne room directly?”

“I won’t be in the throne room today, Miss Inkwell. If anyone asks, I will be confined to my quarters for the rest of the day.”

“Your Highness?”

“Miss Inkwell.”

“It is Monday ma’am. There’s a meeting with the Royal Post Board, and after that you’ve got your first petitioners of the week and—”

So what? Let the Princess Rules go to hell, at least for a little while. Twilight Sparkle had been waiting for her aunt for a thousand years, she had seniority here.

“Cancel it.”

“Princess?”

“All of it. There’s a much more pressing matter that requires my utmost attention,” she noticed Raven looking over the list she had written out, a confused look on her face. “And your utmost discretion. Understand?”

The aide nodded. “I… Yes, Your Majesty. I can postpone your schedule, evidently something like…” She looked down. “This requires, obviously, a princess’ practiced hand. I’ll send this off to the pegasus couriers with some modifications for…”

“Privacy?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. That will be all, Miss Inkwell.”

“Understood Your Highness. And congratulations.”

“She’s not mine, Miss Inkwell.”

“Then I believe you have me thoroughly confused, Your Highness.”

“Indeed I do,” Celestia gave her a pleasant smile and said nothing more. Her aide got the message, bowing and disappearing back into the shadows that, presumably, spawned aides at her demand.

Closing the door, Celestia looked down to find a tiny purple fuzzball at her heels. Twilight had managed to extricate herself out of the Panacea and had crawled over to the alicorn that had utterly and deplorably failed to serve her.

“Beh!” Her niece commanded.

“Is that so?” Celestia smiled, picking up the filly and trotting over to her private kitchen. “Well I hope you can handle 2% milk, at least for a little bit.”

It had taken less than an hour for Raven Inkwell to drop off Celestia’s supplies for her “little project”, as her aide had called it. Armed with a mountain of diapers, toys, fresh pastel linens, and a storybook that proudly declared itself Fluffer Puffer’s Fluffy Funtime Adventure, Celestia had attempted to scale the mountain that was caring for Twilight Sparkle….

And then immediately gave up, opting instead to, if not delegate her duties, then at least face them like she always did: with the help of an aide.

Against her better judgement, she had recruited the young unicorn mare as a fellow foalsitter, Raven, having mentioned a sister and several nieces, and Celestia having mentioned that she was desperately in need of a crash course on things like how to properly warm a formula bottle without exploding it (apparently she needed to get a microwave if she wanted her life to be easier), or what the hell those things on the side of a diaper were for (tabs, Raven had explained. Very useful). It helped that it was hard to resist a foal as cute as Twilight, even in the midst of a tantrum.

The unicorn had readily accepted the explanation that Twilight was just Celestia’s “niece”, in the same way that Cadance was, Raven having mentally inserted the quotes herself. If she thought that Twilight was another curiosity the Princess was looking after, that was fine by Celestia. It saved having to explain herself.

Unfortunately, the unicorn had a life outside of the castle, and as night had fallen Celestia now found herself once again at the base of the mountain, alone with nothing but a day’s worth of lessons and a filly that was, mercifully, fast asleep. She supposed she had Fluffer Puffer’s Fluffy Funtime Adventure to thank for that.

She had read to foals before, but her students had been far more interested in books with things like plots. Or characters. This was not the kind of book Celestia was used to. It had fur on some of the pages.

The storybook…

Stars, the storybook had been terrible. Celestia was surprised that Twilight had hung off every word of it, even trying to grab the book herself at some points. She’s not certain if that had been what finally tired the baby out or not.

So now, with Twilight slumbering in new crib, Celestia found herself alone. With nothing but a rising sense of dread, her own thoughts, and the full moon outside.

She had drawn the curtains back, wondering if Twilight slept better in the moonlight. She hoped she did, the filly had kept looking up at it tonight. Maybe Twilight knew.

Maybe in time, she’d understand.

“Hi, Luna,” the alicorn said quietly.

The Mare in the Moon glared down at her. It had been more than a century since she had talked to her little sister, and it never got any easier. But right now, she needed to do so. She didn’t know if Luna could hear her. She hoped, sometimes, she could.

“I found her, Luna. I promised you once that I would be there for her. Then I gave up after two hundred years. Some aunt I’ve been, huh?”

She tried to fight her rising hackles, but it was a pointless battle. These were hackles with heavy emotional artillery. They’d ascend whether she wanted them to or not.

She choked it back all the same. “S-she’s as much a handful as I remember. You always were better at getting her to calm down. Here I was thinking I’d never get to fall asleep.”

“But then you were always better with foals in general.”

Celestia peeked down into the crib. Twilight still slept peacefully, but given the volatility of babies, this could change at any moment. The colors and hair were wrong, and there were no wings, but in so many ways, she looked like Luna had as a filly.

“You probably know just what to say to her and… Of course you’d know what her favorite foods are. What kind of toys she’d like…”

Tears begin to fall from her face. She pulled back, not wanting any to fall on Twilight. Her face felt hot, her eyes stung.

The Mare in the Moon said nothing, as always.

“Y-you’d probably even have better taste than these shitty kid’s books!” She tossed Fluffer Puffer’s Fluffy Funtime Adventure as far as she could, the book fluttering across the tiles where it landed in a colorful heap, unappreciated. Celestia collapsed onto her haunches, sobbing.

Still, the Mare in the Moon said nothing.

She never did. Even when Celestia ended up like this. Crying, despairing. Alone.

“Why, Luna…” She tried to blink away her tears, staring down at Twilight, who had found Fluffer Puffer acceptable enough to fall asleep with her little purple hoof in her mouth. “Why did you do it? I knew you were hurting, I did, but… The kingdom needed you.”

She reached out a wing, gently stroking her niece’s cheek. “Your daughter needed you.”

“I needed you…”

She pulled the wing away, despair suddenly giving way to a flash of indignant anger.

It was thanks to Luna that Twilight had been missing for almost a thousand years. If Celestia hadn’t been lucky, she may have never been found. What kind of parent would do that to their child?

Twilight deserved a mother that cared for her, deserved one that would be there for her. One that wouldn’t lock her away forever. One that wouldn’t turn evil and fight her sister, and one that was willing to listen and—

One that wasn’t…

One that hadn’t been banished to the moon by her older sister.

The Mare in the Moon was shining as bright as it ever had been. The pony that had put it there looking down at the very last piece of her little sister.

Luna hadn’t hid Twilight from the world. She had hidden her from Celestia.

Celestia couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t do it. This was Luna’s baby. Her niece.

Because what would come next? It wasn’t a matter of handling a filly. If she cared for Twilight herself, where would it end? One couldn’t keep a foal secret forever, and if she stayed, if Celestia announced her as her niece, as another princess of the realm…

Images flashed through Celestia’s head, imagining the filly’s life at court.

She’d watch from afar the other children playing, longing to join in. But she’d have etiquette lessons, guards guarding her.

She’d ask where her mother was. And Celestia wouldn’t be able to tell her.

She’d grown up surrounded by castle walls, a prisoner in a gilded cage, watched over by the very mare that had banished her mother in the first place.

She deserved better than that.

She deserved better than Celestia.

Something stirred in her. Not exactly a memory, but certainly something that slipped her mind, for obvious reasons. Magic flashing, a whole sheet of papers appeared before her and swirled about. Most of them were heavy with ink, often with a paperclip and photo attached.

She probably shouldn’t be interfering with this kind of process, and normally she wouldn’t, but there had been certain ponies she liked to keep an eye on and lend a helping hoof where she could.

One particular file finally caught her eye, and she pulled it forward, eyeing both the couple in the photo and the names above, particularly the mare’s.

Despite her heavy heart, she smiled. That name, these ponies, and with timing this perfect? Quite a coincidence.

But Celestia had learned long ago that, when it came to matters of magic and fate, there was no such thing as coincidence.

The couple in front of her sat there, all nerves and propriety. At least they were willing to drink their tea. Sometimes Celestia wondered if she came off as too intimidating to other ponies. Was it the height? She couldn’t help being tall. Tall was just what happened when you were an eternal ruler with complete control over cosmic forces incomprehensible to mortals.

“We uh… this was a bit of a surprise for us, Princess Celestia. To be honest, we thought your invitation, when we first saw it, was a prank.”

She smiled. “I love a good prank as much as the next pony. Probably more, given that we live in Canterlot and most of the upper crust here seems to walk around with sticks up their asses most of the time.”

The two unicorns gasped, looking at her. Then, noticing her face, they relaxed, allowing themselves to snicker at the joke.

“If I was being honest with myself,” Celestia lied, “I was quite surprised when I saw your names on the list of applicants.”

“You… you know us, princess?”

“Your grandmother was a friend of mine. A good friend.”

“She is? She never mentioned you.”

Celestia paused, trying to think back to a distant face. Stars, had it been that long?

“Your great, great, great grandmother, mind you. Apologies.”

The couple just stared back at her.

Maybe ponies would be less intimidated if you didn’t remind them from time to time that you were centuries old. She thought to herself. Or maybe they can just smell it on you. Chronosia always said that ponies could smell time, if it accumulated in enough places.

Then again, she also ended up exploding, so maybe she was just insane.

She coughed. “But, yes, I like to keep tabs on the families of close friends, and help where I can. So… you’re looking to adopt?”

They shifted nervously.

“We’ve been trying for another foal, your highness. But there’s been… complications. To tell you the truth, our boy Shiny— Uh, Shining Armor, was a bit of a miracle, all things considered,” the stallion said sheepishly.

“Bit of a handful now too,” admitted his wife. “Ten years old and now he’s become obsessed with the royal guard. He's been trying to find any excuse he can to watch the parades and the changing of the guard.”

“I still think he’s always trying to catch a glimpse of Princess Cadance-”

“Night Light! That’s her niece!”

Celestia stifled a giggle. At least they had gotten comfortable.

“Well, it so happens there is a baby available, a unicorn filly who very much could use a loving home,” she levitated over a folder, pictures and official-looking documents inside. They were technically official, signed by the Princess herself, but they weren’t exactly real. She had had less than a week to take the pictures and sneak a birth certificate into Canterlot’s vast bureaucracy. After all, it’s not like Twilight had been born when the concept even existed.

As far as anypony would know, she was just an orphan filly. No… family to speak of.

“You’re lucky too,” Celestia gave a gentle smile. “She’s just grown out of the worst of her magic surges.”

Twilight Velvet gasped as she looked through the pictures, cooing at the polaroids of a happy Twilight Sparkle beaming back at her, playing with a small stuffed doll, an open children’s book on her head, then raising an eyebrow at the name on the file.

“Twilight Sparkle? That can’t be—”

“The coincidence is exactly what made me consider your file to begin with. I take it that you're interested?”

“Are you serious?” Velvet began to tear up. “O-of course! We would be—” She paused, ears turning down.

“Isn’t there some sort of queue or waiting list or something? If this is something to do with knowing our ancestor, I don’t want to be given preferential treatment just because of something like that.”

Celestia shook her head, giving another reassuring look. She sometimes worried how easily she lied to ponies, even if they were for good reasons. “Normally it’s not about queues or waitlists exactly. Foal Services tries to find matches with potential parents that’d fit the child in question.”

At least that part was true.

“And let me tell you: your first concern was at the possibility of robbing other ponies of the chance at a family is exactly what tells me you’re more than qualified. Just one question remains…”

Celestia levitated the forms over to both ponies, who watched her with wide, wet eyes.

“How soon could you be ready?”

“We’ve been—” Night Light hesitated, broken from the trance, then swallowed. “Well since we got the letter that we’d been accepted into the program we had been preparing a room that… It’s not quite ready yet, there’s a few toys missing but…”

“Would today be acceptable?”

“I mean I— We’d have to—”

“Yes.”

Both ponies turned towards Twilight Velvet, who stood there, hoof on the paper.

“We’ve been waiting for this, Your Highness,” tears were falling down Twilight Velvet’s face now. “For weeks, for months. We know it’s sudden, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll give her a home, Princess. She’s…” Velvet stared at the picture again, longing already written plain across her face.

Celestia smiled. Lie or not, she doubted even the best and brightest at Foal Services could have done better.

“Then let’s get everything settled. More tea?”

More than a few hours later, Celestia sat on a lower balcony of a small courtyard, waving goodbye to the couple and their newest family member as they trotted out. Fate had been kind that day; the two Twilights had almost immediately bonded. Celestia had almost felt a pang of jealousy at how quickly her niece had accepted Velvet, and a pang of pain when all three ponies had left the castle happy.

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at that, though. There were no coincidences, indeed.

With some time to spare before she had to set the sun, Celestia breathed out a long weary sigh, exhausted.

She had done it. She couldn’t bring Luna back, but she made sure that Twilight Sparkle had a family, a mother. A little bit of heartbreak mended, more of her subjects happy.

This was the best possible outcome, right?

She tried to shove down the ache in her heart.

Author's Note

Dammit Celestia, you just keep getting these babies and messing them up.

Thanks to Trollytrainer for the proofread.

6. Corridor of Fools

Luna knocked as gently as she dared at the door to Twilight’s study. It was a small mercy that, as a princess, Twilight got a whole wing to herself. Facing her daughter was hard enough. Facing all the rest of the Element Bearers would be impossible. They’d learn, in their own time, what was going on.

This made it quite a surprise when she found that Twilight was not the only pony in her bedroom. Her daughter sat at the foot of her bed, being lightly cuddled by a puffy pink pony.

“Miss Pie? I had not expected you to be here.”

“I’m here as the Official Royal Support Hug Specialist, Your Highness!” Pinkie beamed. “By request. Even though I just made the title up now. Speaking of which…” She pulled Twilight in for another hug, nuzzling her. “It’s a very important job. Lot of demand for an ORSHS right now.”

“I see, and… is it working?”

“Well, she’s not crying anymore!” Pinkie cringed. “Sorry.”

“Are you two going to sit around pretending I don’t exist, or are we going to get to it?” said Twilight finally, turning to face the other alicorn before freezing up.

Both stared at each other. Pinkie coughed.

“Twilight,” said Luna eventually.

“Luna…” Twilight paused again. “Sorry, I’m sure you want me to call you ‘mother’ or something or—”

“No. No, it's quite alright. It’s a title that I know I have to… earn,” Luna shifted from hoof to hoof. “I’m happy for the chance all the same. So let’s start with… questions! Yes? You’ve got a lot of questions, beyond the obvious. We can bond over questions.”

Twilight took a deep breath. She looked over to Pinkie, who gave a little wave of encouragement, then back to Luna, before opening her mouth and letting it all spill out.

“Who’s my father? Was he still alive when you became Nightmare Moon? Was my ascension something I’m genetically predisposed to because you’re an alicorn or is that something that merely gave me a talent for magic to begin with? Speaking of genetics, are there any preexisting conditions or allergies that you have that might be an issue for me? I know both Celestia and I are allergic to cauliflower, do you have that? Can I learn to dreamwalk? Would you teach me to enter a pony's dreams? Is there some sort of royal line of succession, and if so am I technically part of it? Speaking of which if Cadance is legally Celestia’s niece too doesn’t that make her and Shining Armor being married a little odd or—”

“Twilight,” Luna put a hoof on her shoulder, and Twilight finally stopped, blushing and looking down. “Perhaps one question at a time would be best?”

“Yes, right. One at a time,” Twilight nodded. “Um. It’s alright that Pinkie is here? She’s… She’s being a big help with all this.”

“Of course, my little star. I would have invited Celestia to join us but…”

“Yeah, um. No. Maybe we talk to her later? I’ve got a list of questions for her too. A lot of questions.”

“I imagine,” Luna looked around. It was amazing to her how easy a pony could bumble into an awkward situation. “Shall we head out then? You’re welcome to join us, Pinkie.”

“I’m here until Twilight’s paychecks don’t clear,” Pinkie Pie giggled. “What’s the plan, Lulu? Where we headed?”

“To visit Twilight’s father,” she looked at their shocked expressions. “That was the first question on your list, was it not?”

In the past, the Royal Court had been attended by a similarly Royal Fool: a professional entertainer and confidant for the princess. But there hadn't been a Royal Fool in ages, despite petitioners from the related Royal College. Really, there were a lot of royal and foolish things all around, all contributing now only to this: a deserted hallway in a well traveled wing of the castle, full of clownly portraits and artifacts most humorous.

The Corridor of Fools.

A place that, evidently, the mare next to her treated as some sort of earthly Elysium.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! The Corridor of Fools! I’ve been trying to break into here since the Grand Galloping Gala but there’s always guards here and the guards will be like ‘No Ms. Pie, you can’t enter here we’re afraid you’ll lick the portraits or destroy the multitudes of priceless artifacts inside’. Pssshhhhhhhhhhh!”, Pinkie whispered before she stuck out her tongue and blew a frustrated raspberry. In here, that was probably something close to a prayer.

“Like I’d lick the portraits!” Pinkie paused and glanced conspiratorially at Twilight. “Just between besties though, do the portraits do something when licked?”

Twilight thought for a moment. “I think the later ones are magically enchanted to taste like something important to the Fool in question but— Pinkie, no! Pinkie, get back here!”

Luna watched as her daughter struggled to pull away her companion away from a painting of Paddles the Infinitely Jestevious to give her a lecture on showing proper respect towards Fools Past, which then turned into a debate over whether or not silly behavior counted as being respectful given the professional involved, and finally a compromise where Pinkie could freely explore by royal Princess of Friendship decree, so long as that exploration did not involve one’s mouth.

She smiled to herself, wondering if anyone else had picked up on the clues between the two. The looks, the comfortable matching of wits, the blushes at accidental contact (at least on Twilight’s side). It wasn’t precisely the same, yet as a wise pony once said: history didn’t repeat, but it did rhyme.

As Pinkie explored a small section dedicated to those brave and selfless Battle Clowns that had given their lives in service to Princess and Country, Twilight finally moved to where Luna had been waiting, patiently.

“Pinkie Pie seems to be enjoying herself immensely,” smiled Luna.

“I’m uncertain if Pinkie is religious,” Twilight admitted, blushing slightly. “But if she is, this is effectively a temple for her.”

“I’m glad that she’s happy.”

“Yeah…”

Both of them sat there in silence. A somewhat distant “Oooooooooh!!!!!” from a somewhat distant Pinkie Pie highlighted their own lack of conversation, before Luna finally coughed.

“You… wished to know your father, I believe this would be a suitable introduction,” she motioned to one of the very last portraits in the gallery, all the way at the beginning. Twilight followed her hoof to gaze up at the large painting.

Twilight had never given the Corridor of Fools much thought. After all, the position of Royal Fool had been retired long ago, and most of them to begin with hadn’t been unicorns, their various contributions to the world of comedy something she had found to be one of those rare things that she had little interest in. Still, she supposed if she had bothered to look through the gallery of past clowns now passed, the subject of the painting would have looked all too familiar.

The earth pony on the canvas before her had a lavender blue coat. He didn’t look very strapping or tall, but his face was youthful and handsome, and the painter had given his eyes a sparkle that implied a mischievous wisdom far beyond his years. Eyes that were the exact same color as hers.

The dates below the portrait didn’t span a very long timespan.

“This is…” Twilight swallowed down her nerves. This was harder than she thought. “That’s him?”

“It is an uncanny likeness,” Luna confirmed. “I was there when it was painted. He claimed that he had received ancient mime training that let him sit still for extended periods of time.”

“Mime training?”

“He was sincere about that,” Luna sighed wistfully. “The most sincere Fool I’ve ever known. Though I am unsure if the mime training was ancient, or if the mimes that trained him were, themselves, ancient.”

“Huh.”

“Mmmhmm.”

More awkward silence. At this point Twilight heavily suspected it was genetic. There was a distant crash and a whispered “Whoops, sorry…” from down the corridor.

“Pinkie, over here!” shouted Twilight.

“Coming!” The pink pony down the hall beamed, moving away from the collapsed suit of advanced jesterial armor, and trotting down the aisles with her eyes closed, singing all the while.

“I finally got to go to the Corridor of Fools and there’s no guards to kick me out because we’re going to meet Luna’s foalpapa~”

“Pinkie, a little respect?”

“Believe me,” Luna flashed a small smile. “He’d have loved the irreverence.”

“Sounds like my kinda pony. Nice to meet you Daddy Spark—” Pinkie opened her eyes, which immediately bulged out of her sockets as she gazed up at the painting.

“Puh—Peri…” She looked over to Twilight, then over to Luna, then back over to Twilight, then back up at the painting.

“Peritwinkle? The Peritwinkle? You’re Peritwinkle’s daughter?”

“I am?” Twilight looked to Luna, who nodded enthusiastically. “I am, apparently.”

“Twilight’s dad is Peritwinkle! Your dad is Peritwinkle! I’m best friends with Peritwinkle’s daughter!” Pinkie began to bounce around the room, giggling with mad glee.

“I’m sorry Pinkie, but I'm not really read up on, uh… Clown stuff? I take it he was important?”

Pinkie stopped mid bounce, rotating in midair before falling in front of Twilight and grabbing her face with her forelegs, pulling her close.

“Twilight, he wasn’t just important. He’s not just a clown. He’s The Clown. His comedic theories are the backbone of all modern prop comedy and established pranking. He set and put forth more standards than even the great Happyface Custardpants.”

Twilight tried not to blush at the thought that Pinkie’s face was this close to hers. And here she thought she had gotten used to Pinkie’s tendency to be a personal space invader. Pinkie just took her blank stare for something else and sighed.

“Twily…” She said carefully. “Peritwinkle is to parties and fools what Prancing Bacon is to empirical scientific study.”

“Oh. Oh. OH,” Twilight blinked, a mix of awe and shock coming on as she finally looked back over to Luna. “R-really?”

Luna shrugged, a sad smile on her face, evidently recalling distant memories. “He was quite the prolific writer. Celestia published his manuscripts,” the smile became a frown. “Posthumously.”

Three ponies sat in a hall of dead clowns, reflecting on what that actually meant. Especially for the Princess of the Night.

“Luna— Um, I mean,” Twilight hesitated. She still wasn’t sure if she was ready to break out the ‘M’ word. Frankly everything still felt surreal. “I don’t know how recent all this is for you, if it’s hard to talk about it we can—”

“No,” Luna sat up, moving closer to Twilight and wrapping a wing around her daughter. “His loss hurts but… it will always hurt. I would not deprive my daughter of her father.”

The princess took a deep breath, steadying herself. Pinkie Pie, rapt with anticipation, scooched in closer and brought out a bucket of popcorn from some unknown space.

“It all began when he threw two pies in my face.”

“Aww!” Cooed Pinkie. “How romantic!”

7. Peritwinkle

The bustle of the party had gotten to her, finally. Even in a corner, it was exhausting. Ponies were exhausting; she had no idea how Celestia did it all for hours at a time. It was like she enjoyed it.

Stepping out from the noise and heat into the cool night air was just so much more… whatever the opposite of another tiring social function was. And, surprisingly, there he was, his back turned to her as he stared out over the balcony at the stars.

She supposed she could handle one more little social call. He did owe it to her after all, given his earlier prank.

“I am surprised that after such a performance that you did not continue to be the center of attention,” she said, speaking up.

The Fool jumped (jingling slightly in the process), turning around at the sound of her voice before his initial surprised expression was replaced with a mask of cool amusement.

“Ah, well, Your Highness, we Fools have often found that nobility is like a poached egg: the best practice requires heat, but not too much, lest it turn out less than perfect.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “One would think that a Fool would make it their job to keep his audience entertained throughout the night.”

The Fool grinned back. “Aye. But a Royal Fool knows that anticipation is its own form of entertainment,” he dropped the confident expression for a moment, relaxing into something that seemed to be more sincere, at least to Luna. “Also if I’m being honest, I wanted to give the fire-eaters a chance, they’ve put a lot of work into their act.”

“They are… friends of yours?”

He nodded. “My colleagues at the newly enroyaled Equestrian Royal College for Comedy. They’re good ponies.”

“Indeed? You would ignore a chance at recognition if it meant depriving your friends of the spotlight. That is quite noble.”

“Well I can’t exactly repeat the trick right now,” he reached into his vest with an exaggerated motion, showcasing the deliberate emptiness. “I only baked the two pies.”

“You were the one that made those, truly?” Luna was impressed. “Perhaps you should have applied to be a royal chef. You are a stallion of many gifts.”

He laughed. “It’s my brother’s recipe, to tell the truth. He’s the baker in the family, for me it’s just a hobby.”

“A shame, I believe the position of royal chef pays much better than that of the royal fool. And my sister would be quite appreciative of a good baker.”

“I’m not in it for the bits, Your Highness,” the fool scratched behind his head, getting a bit quiet. “And to be honest, your sister seems… rather intimidating.”

“You do not find me similarly terrifying?”

“Not at all! You’re quite…” The fool paused, failing to meet her gaze. “You’re quite approachable, Your Highness.”

Both paused there, awkwardly. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell under his makeup. A concept of a plan forming, Luna smirked. “Come.”

“Your Highness?”

“I wish to take a nightly stroll through the gardens, and a princess requires an escort, does she not?”

“I—”

“I have a bottle of champagne with me,” she levitated the smuggled flask over. “I had hoped to retire to my chambers alone with it, but I suppose a Princess of Equestria would be a poor host if she did not offer to libate her chaperone, would she not?”

The Fool relaxed, offering a hoof. “I suppose not. Shall we, Your Highness?”

She took his hoof with her wing. “We shall, allow me.”

They wound through the gardens slowly, silently. From time to time, Luna would glance over, catching the Fool watching her, but he’d always look back, no doubt hoping to appear like he was appreciating something else.

Quite curious indeed. Eventually, they made their way to a grove in the center, where Luna finally leaned against a small fence. Her horn glowed, and with a flash two champagne flutes appeared.

“A teleportation spell. The party won’t miss them,” she clarified in response to the Fool’s raised eyebrow, pouring out the drinks for each of them.

“Quite a useful thing, magic,” he sipped the champagne casually. “Very… magical.”

“Your own abilities are quite something in and of themselves, Royal Fool.”

“Most of what I do is just down to practice,” he thought for a moment. “That and the right materials.”

The princess tilted her head curiously. “May I see your balls? I’ve been quite curious about them.”

The fool nearly spat out his drink, opting instead to go into a coughing fit.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked innocently.

“Nothing, nothing!” He waved a hoof, still coughing as he reached into his vest for a few of them. “You’re welcome to take a look.”

She nodded, handling them with what might be an undeserved reverence. But Starswirl had often impressed upon her the importance of an artist’s tools. If care needed to be taken around an archmage’s amulets, a master juggler’s balls were no doubt the same, no?

“Abyssinian rubber,” she praised. “Quite a rare thing this far west. Does this impart some sort of arcane property that allows it to rise and fall like it does?”

“Oh, you recognize it?” The Fool’s face lit up. “Not many ponies would have an eye for materials like that, Princess.”

“Chemistry and material sciences are a bit of a ‘hobby’ of mine,” she blushed a bit. “Most of the court would find it unseemingly to be participating in them however.”

“Then they’re bigger fools than I am,” he grinned. “But to answer your question, it doesn’t really make juggling it easier, it’s more that abyssinian rubber has a specific feel and give to it. It helps me keep track of them, when I’m juggling the balls move too fast for me to pick them out by sight alone.”

Luna’s ears perked up. “Material and weight as a form of mental cataloguing? That is wonderful! You would still have to teach yourself the basic properties of each ball though.”

“And that’s where the practice comes in. And studying, a lot of studying,” he smiled a bit.

“You’re quite the scholar, Fool.”

“I could say the same to you, your majesty, few ponies would recognize Abyssinian rubber at a glance,” the Fool gave an exaggerated, jingly bow, before taking another sip from his glass.

“And you’re quite a change from the first Royal Fool. Jolly as he was, Big Top often seemed like a pony on the stage, not a pony one could talk to.”

“Professor Top’s a consummate professional, unlike myself,” he said, continuing to sip. “I believe I am a bit of a scoundrel, all things considered.”

“Well, if the company of scoundrels is always as pleasant as this, perhaps I should let you creampie me more often and— Did I say something wrong again?”

In an effort not to spit his champagne across the gardens (and further than that even, seeing as he was a trained clown and could spit very far), the Fool had opted instead to be reduced to a coughing fit, liquid dripping across his muzzle as he failed to keep his composure. Was she listening to herself?

“No, no. Merely a bit of liquid down the wrong tube, so to speak. I’m quite fine princess, really.” He went crosseyed as he looked at his dripping paint. “Though I wish I could say the same about my poor face.”

“Your… face?” Luna raised an eyebrow, confused.

“My makeup, Your Highness. Sadly, with my coat the only paints one can get don’t seal well, and I haven’t brought any backup material to reapply it,” he grimaced, reaching to wipe it off. “Thank the stars I’ve already graduated, losing one’s face is a grand faux pas for a Fool.”

“Allow me,” she apologized, conjuring a cloth before wrapping it in a bubble of summoned water, dampening it and handing it over to him. He nodded his thanks, plunging his face into the towel and wiping off the rest of the paint before handing it back.

Now Luna could finally get a clear look at his face under all that paint and…

She could feel her cheeks getting hot. He was quite attractive, in his own way. For all his jingliness, he came off more like a handsome, youthful scholar, than a clown.

“You know,” she composed herself, “I do believe I have not had the honor of learning your name, Fool.”

He smiled, sincerity shining through, going into another exaggerated bow. “Peritwinkle, Your Highness. Youngest son of Indiglow and Amber Aegis.”

“Arise then, Peritwinkle,” she then paused, thinking back to a few courtly lessons she had sat through, a rare class that she found all too boring. “Indiglow? The name seems familiar, is he not a lord?”

Peritwinkle shuffled nervously. “Of recent ascent, Your Highness. To tell the truth, earth ponies don’t put as much stock in noble titles as unicorns or even pegasi do. I believe it was Starswirl the Bearded’s idea to ease tensions between the tribes.”

“And has it succeeded?”

“I have no idea, they’re courtiers, mind, and don’t see much point in all the ‘pomp and circumstance’ as they put it,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I think they’d be a bit furious to know I was the Royal Fool now.”

She sat there for a moment, then began to giggle, which descended into a full blown laughing fit.

“Oh my,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Quite an ironic situation. I hope you broke the news to them gently.”

She looked over, to find the fool not laughing along with her. He merely watched her, light blue cheeks blushing a nice bright red in response to her laugh.

Ah. There it was.

Author's Note

And back in time, once again.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

8. Dinner

Luna had told them her tale, answering every question Twilight had (and stars, were there a LOT of them). It had been… hard to accept, for some reason. She’d had a father, and he was gone. He’d been dead for over a thousand years, and that made sense. That eternally logical part of her had made it clear that old age or cancer or plague would do away with any pony that wasn’t an alicorn, no matter how gifted or magical they were.

It still hurt.

But she felt… stable. A little bit more stable? Like she could better map out her future now that her past was clear. Just one step at a time. One step at a time, and she could stay on top of everything.

So here she was, striding down another hall in the castle after making excuses towards all the rest of her friends about dealing with something private and princessy. It was technically the truth, no matter how much Applejack glared at her like she wasn’t telling it. Her mo— Luna had proposed something simple to ease her into her new life as a princess: Dinner with Celestia. Twilight could do that. She could absolutely do that. Right? She looked over at Pinkie Pie. She hadn’t left Twilight’s side the entire time. Pinkie looked over, and gave her a wave.

She could do this. She could… talk to Celestia. Try and make sense of where her future was going, and what her past really was.

Opening the doors to the dining room, Twilight stepped through, and paused. Sure enough, Celestia sat at the table, giving her student (and niece, can’t forget that part now, can you, Twilight?) an awkward smile. On the side next to her sat two more ponies, a unicorn mare and stallion.

Twilight Velvet and Night Light. Her… parents.

She couldn’t do this. Sweet Cel— Sweet Lun— Shit, she couldn't do this. This was not one step at a time, this was a whole running leap off into the deep end and—

She felt a warm hoof on her shoulder, looking over to see Pinkie Pie giving her a concerned look.

“It’s gonna be a nice dinner, Twily,” Pinkie reassured her.

She could give it a shot, at least.

“Good soup,” Night Light said quietly. “Not sure we’ve ever had soup this good, have we, honey?”

“It’s a tomato bisque, Warm Milk’s speciality for ‘family occasions’ as one might call this,” smiled Celestia.

“He’s got that right at least,” laughed the stallion. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup night used to be Twilight's favorite thing when she was a filly. She’d get grumpy because she couldn’t eat and read at the same time, not without risking getting the pages of the book greasy.”

“A grilled cheese…” Luna gave them a confused look. “Surely it would simply melt through the metal grill if one were to attempt something like this?”

“It’s a sandwich, princess,” Velvet clarified. “You put it between two buttered slices of bread. Trust me, it’s a real go-getter with kids.”

“I see,” Luna sat back in quiet contemplation.

Celestia chuckled. “We didn’t have sliced bread when Twilight was a newborn, or even normal baby food. Luna used to use this spell she had developed to atomize Timberwolves on a plate of fresh carrots. It was more or less the same.”

“Thank the stars for the invention of canning then, eh?” Velvet raised a glass.

“We’re just as lucky she woke up in this era,” Celestia took her own glass in her magic, clinking it against Velvet’s before both downed the liquid inside it. “I’m going to guess baby formula was a lifesaver?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Your Highness.”

And so it went, two groups of older ponies swapping embarrassing moments from Twilight’s life like they were veterans trading war stories. Twilight tried to keep herself calm. It was going okay, wasn’t it? This is what family did.

But something nagged at the back of Twilight’s mind. Celestia and her parents smiling at her, talking casually among themselves like old friends, while Luna seemed to sit apart from the conversation, looking as awkward as Twilight did right now.

That was it. That was it right there. Luna had come clean, Luna had a reason why she wasn’t around for Twilight’s entire life. Hard to be a mother when you’re trapped on the moon after all. Probably not a good place to raise kids. Not a lot of good schools.

So… where was Celestia’s excuse?

What was her parent’s excuse? Maybe this should have been something to bring up to her when she had first left Canterlot. Or when she first entered Celestia’s school.

Celestia’s school. Internally, Twilight groaned again. The school her aunt had run. The school where they told her she was one of the youngest applicants to ever be accepted. The school where Celestia had made her, without hesitation, her personal student.

How much of her life wasn’t a coincidence?

How much of her life wasn’t earned?

How much of her life was set up?

“How many ponies knew?” Twilight said quietly, interrupting the conversation between Velvet and Celestia. Both paused to look at her.

“What was that, Twilight?”

“How many ponies knew that you gave me up? That I was your niece all along?”

Celestia’s face went white— Er, whiter. Velvet reached out for Twilight.

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t like that—”

Twilight pushed her hoof away. Velvet recoiled back the slap, eyes suddenly wet.

“Did Shining Armor know?” Twilight snorted. “Of course he had to, he was ten years old. Did Cadance know? Who else knew?”

“Honey, we didn’t mean anything like that. We didn’t want you to think that… You were wanted, Twilight. We wanted you.”

“Except I’m not wanted enough for anypony to tell the truth though, right? I bet you’re all just freaking out, aren’t you? If things had gone well you’d just have stayed quiet about this forever. ‘Don’t let Twilight know she’s adopted, she can’t handle that.’ What were you even afraid of? Huh? Thought it’d just be easier for yourselves overall?”

Night Light slammed the table with hooves. “Twilight, don’t talk to your mother that way—”

“You’re not my parents!”

“Twilight Sparkle!” Celestia reared up. “That's quite enough! I understand that this is a difficult adjustment in your life, but that’s no reason to act like this to—”

“And you!” Twilight rounded on Celestia. “I don’t even know what you are in all this mess. Guess the guilt finally caught up with you, huh?”

“You do not take that tone with me. Princess or not,” Celestia returned the smaller alicorn’s glare. “This is not the kind of attitude I expected from you. Why don’t we all just calm down and—”

“Or what? Are you going to punish me? Going to throw me onto the moon for a thousand years, or just give me away again?”

Twilight felt a pang of guilt as Celestia’s mouth opened in shock, her white face going bright red. She quickly beat that pang down with a whole crowbar of justified anger. What did that giant white tart think was going to happen?

Twilight huffed, already too far gone to care. “That’s what I thought. I shouldn’t be surprised you’d say nothing. That’s what you’ve done all along, isn’t it, Princess?”

“Twilight, enough!” shouted Luna.

Twilight turned towards the other alicorn, fire in her eyes. She opened her mouth.

Then stopped. The fire died, and Twilight pushed her chair out. It was a lot easier to do with wings.

“This whole thing was a mistake,” she grumbled, standing up and trotting out the door, hooffalls heavy as she strode out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her, caring little for how many Princess Rules she had just flagrantly violated.

Awkward silence filled the room in Twilight’s absence. Velvet started to sniffle a bit, while Celestia put her head in her hooves. Several moments passed in silence, until Luna herself stood up, wings looking ready to flare.

“Wait.”

The rest of the dinner party turned towards Pinkie, who had been quiet the entire time. Now she had a look of determination on her face as she waved Luna down.

“I’ve got this, Lulu,” she declared.

“Are you—”

Pinkie sprang up from her chair, a gleam in her eyes. “Trust me. The ORSHS is on the case.”

“The what?” Twilight Velvet just looked at her confused as the pink pony galloped out the door after her daughter.

“It’s a long story,” Luna sighed. “I fear recounting the experiences with my own Fool has made Pinkie assume she could take a similar position in Twilight’s life.”

“I’m sorry princess,” Velvet sniffed. “Your… your fool?”

“Twilight’s… Twilight’s father. He was a clown. Professionally.”

“Oh,” Velvet sat, then looked up. “Wait, are Pinkie and Twilight…”

“They are… close.” Luna looked over to Celestia, who returned the stare with a raised eyebrow.

“But… Can she help?” Even Night Light was worried now. “It’s killing me to see Twilight this upset.”

Luna shrugged. “One can only hope that she’s the Fool Twilight needs..”

Twilight’s head was spinning. She can’t believe what she had just done. She had yelled at her pa— At her fam— At Twilight Velvet. At Night Light. At Celestia.

She felt good at first. Now she just felt awful. Sick, like she had felt for the past few days.

“Twily!”

Twilight took a deep breath, looking back as her friend trotted up to her.

“Pinkie, I’m not going back there.”

“But it’s your family, Twilight!”

Twilight huffed, turning back and continuing to walk away. Pinkie chased after her, her previous confident expression now one of worry.

“Twilight, please talk to me. I’m here, you asked me to be here! You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Do I? Can I? You don’t know what this is like!”

“Yes I do! I’ve lived with the Cakes for years but I still write to my parents and see them all the time! You can have a big family, Twilight, this can all work. You don’t have to choose!”

“That’s not what I’m upset about!”

“Then what? Please Twilight, I don’t… I don’t understand. You’re surrounded by ponies who love you—”

“No, I’m not!”

Pinkie sat there stunned, Twilight just took her silence as permission to continue.

“My entire life is a lie! I didn’t earn my spot as Celestia’s student, I didn’t earn my ascension, and maybe I could live with that, maybe I could stand the fact that I’m Equestria’s biggest victim of nepotism if it didn’t also mean that every pony that claimed to care about me has been lying to my face!”

She fixed Pinkie with a hard stare. “What am I supposed to do when every single relationship I have isn’t real?”

Pinkie just returned the stare, her eyes beginning to well up with tears as Twilight’s words sank in.

“Do… Do you think our friendship is a lie?” she asked quietly. Her hair began to sag. Twilight broke the stare, turning away and saying nothing.

“You don’t mean that,” Pinkie whimpered. “I know you, Twily. I know you’ve got enough love in your heart to love all your family. To… to love…”

Pinkie went in for a hug, but Twilight pushed her away, turning away from the fluffy pink precipice of affection.

“I… don’t think there needs to be an Official Royal Support Hug Specialist right now.”

“Twilight…” Pinkie’s hair lost all of its poof.

“I want to be alone, Pinkie,” she whispered.

And there went all her color.

“I… I understand,” drooping and morose, Pinkie Pie shuffled out. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I didn’t mean to—”

Twilight snorted, turning away from her, trying to fight the tears in her own eyes.

She needed to go find a book.

Author's Note

Thanks to TrolleyTrainer for the proofread.

9. The Empty Court

Another night, another court empty of petitioners.

Equestria was, by Starswirl’s insistence, a kingdom ruled equally by its princesses. Twin princesses, twin thrones, twin courts. Unfortunately, because their subjects could come to either Celestia or Luna, that meant they were under no obligation to bring it to a specific sister.

Celestia’s Day Court was packed each morning with ponies seeking settlement, guidance, or just there to adore the Solar Diarch, but by the time the sun had set, Luna’s Night Court sat empty. The initial (already small) nightly crowds had withered away to around a single pony a week, and now Luna sat quietly on her throne.

She grumbled, perhaps a bit louder than she intended to. Maybe not, seeing as said grumbling would be met with a certain bell-laden individual would be determined to cheer her up.

Though Peritwinkle, as Royal Fool, was obligated to entertain both courts, it often seemed like he saved his best material for her and her alone. Maybe he liked having a captive audience, but Luna thought it just might be something more. Night after night, she’d found herself more often than not striking up conversation with him, discussing life in the castle, gossiping about certain nobility, or offering feedback and suggestions for his latest bout of professional nonsense.

Still, time with a close friend wasn’t enough to chase away all her frustrations. She couldn’t help but heaving out another weary sigh.

“A grumbling princess is a princess a Fool has failed,” her companion noted, bounding to her side. “Would Her Highness favor a bad joke about Duchess Silverstreak’s latest run-in with the castle cook? It involves a very heavy ladle, so I hear.”

“I would rather Silverstreak be in my court, allowing me to resolve her kitchen woes herself,” she frowned. “Is it me, Fool? Do I come off as intimidating? Or is everypony simply fast asleep?”

“Her Majesty has received many a petitioner to her Night Court. May I remind you that just last night you hosted and approved the use of royal funds for that far eastern commune. Manehattan, I believe was the name?”

“A single night simply to sign away one’s bits.”

“They wish to build a town, Your Highness. From their description and their location, it could stand to become Equestria’s largest port. Ponies come to you for real problems, for shaping the future of the country. The biggest thing Celestia’s court had to deal with today were two ponies arguing over ownership of a cow,” He squinted at a ball he was weighing in his hoof, before he nodded with some hidden satisfaction and placed it back in his satchel. “And that’s to say nothing of what the cow thought of the whole situation.”

She glanced over at him, disapprovingly. In response, he simply waggled his eyebrows.

“No?”

“Must everything always be insincere with you, Fool?”

“I am being completely sincere, indeed, I am always sincere,” he retorted, kneeling down before going into a hoofstand. “One would struggle to find a Royal Fool more sincere than the Royal Fool in front of you now. Celestia’s court handles nonsense, while your decisions will shape generations.”

“Perhaps I would like to be the arbiter of nonsense once in a while.”

“Perhaps. If I may be honest, if they are that reluctant to attend your court, they’re idiots,” he thought for a moment. “And one would think they’d understand what they’re missing out on.”

“You are quite bold tonight, Fool.”

“When one’s world is literally upside down, one feels the need to take risks.”

With that, he began to juggle balls with his back hooves, his forelegs serving to keep him balanced and stable on his head. It was only twelve this time, and the show was meant to serve more as a demonstration of physical ability than skill. Not his favorite, but from the way Luna had gasped during his first attempt at it, he’d be willing to put in the effort, even as he ignored the screaming in his thighs.

Luna noticed him wincing. “Surely that cannot be comfortable, it looks close to the limit for the range of motion I’d expect from even the most flexible of acrobats.”

“It’s hell on my pelvis, to tell the truth. I’m not sure it’s a trick I’ll be able to regularly do.”

“Why do it at all then; surely your normal routine is enough for the common pony?”

He shifted slightly, smiling at the upside-down princess. “Ah, but Your Highness is anything but a common pony! I figured that a princess deserves novelty, if nothing else.”

“You do not have to risk yourself for my sake.”

“Consider it part of my solemn oath to the crown.”

Luna held a hoof up, sighing. “Arise and right yourself, Fool. I promise that I will make sure not to shatter and bruise your pelvis anytime soon.”

He sputtered, losing his balance and falling on his belly. Twelve balls nearly fell to the ground, but the Fool was quick, bringing his bag forward and catching all but one of them neatly. The last ball bounced about as the Fool stood up.

She gave a light chuckle, which he blushed at. For someone who tried so hard to entertain her, he was also easily flustered every time he succeeded.

She was finding that she liked how easily flustered he was.

“I have noticed,” she eyed him deviously. “That you seem to be quite taken with my laugh,”

“Am I not meant to be?” The Fool gave a feigned look of offense. “I was under the impression that laughter, and the creation of it, was the primary purpose of the court jester.”

“The other court entertainers do not turn such a lovely shade of red whenever I giggle. This is, in my observations, a trait unique to you.”

Glancing down at his hooves, he tapped the remaining ball, rolling it back and forth.

“Fool?”

“You’ve a beautiful laugh, Your Highness,” he said quietly.

Luna tilted her head. She stared at him, moving her head down to where he stood, fixing him with a hard, piercing gaze. She inched closer to him, while he remained frozen to the spot. They were soon so close, their noses almost touching.

“Y-Your Highness!” He squeaked.

“I would not consider myself an expert in the ways of social interaction, princess or not. But I have at least noticed that you seem to enjoy my company, more so than one would expect of a Royal Fool. Now, you said you are sincere about everything,” Her eyes narrowed. “So tell me: are you taken with me, Lord Peritwinkle?”

The Fool dropped any pretense of confidence, and was now sitting there with his face blushing even brighter red, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Luna felt a weird stab from the dueling emotions of both pride and guilt, what kind of implement would that even be? A stab from a spork made out of… pilt?

He swallowed hard, a big lump traveling down his throat before he opened his mouth.

“You’re the most gorgeous mare I’ve ever known, Princess Luna,” he whispered, his voice coming out hoarse.

Silence filled the unpetitioned air of the Night Court. Now it was her turn to blush. Had she expected it to go this way? Why hadn’t the Fool come up with some clever retort? Was this flirting? Were they flirting right now?

Panicking, she did the one thing she could think of that made any sense, and leaned forward, touching her lips to his.

What was she doing? It felt nice. It felt really nice. She was a princess! He was technically a lord. But she was a princess. Exactly, she was a princess. Whose to say whomst’ve she could and couldn’t love?

“Princess…” The fool pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. “What are you—”

“Please,” She breathed, nuzzling him happily. “You may call me Luna.”

“Luna…” The Fool fixed Luna with a hard stare. “Are you… are you sure? Are you sure about this?”

She nodded. “One can only suffer the flirtations of Fools for so long. I was…” Her ears turned downward. “Unless… I have misread the situation?”

He scrambled upward, taking his hooves in hers, mask of confidence back on. “Not at all! I merely assumed Her High—Princess—- I mean,” aaaaand the mask immediately fell off. “Luna, I doubt there is a higher authority one could go to to ask for permission, so seeing as you are, in many ways, your own guardian…” he gave a familiarly bell-encrusted bow, before dropping to a single knee. “May I court you, Luna?”

“I have never courted anyone,” she admitted, demurely. “Let alone a Royal Fool. I assume the courting involves more custard?”

The Foo— Peritwinkle thought for a moment. “More drinking, I suppose. I’ve never been one for courtship either, too focused on my studies.”

“It seems to have paid off, I would say,” she leaned back, trying to compose herself once again, though a few strands of her mane had come loose. “Would you be opposed to having brunch with me? Say, tomorrow, an hour after sunset?”

“I shall arrive clad in my finest bells,” he bowed again. “Unless Your Majesty has a preference for Fools without them?”

“Her Majesty is still trying to figure out what she has preferences for,” Luna admitted. “Perhaps… let’s try it without the bells at first.”

Author's Note

Two chapters in one day? It must be Christmas. Shorter chapter tomorrow, as a tradeoff though.

Anyway, this is about at the halfway point, chapter and wordcountwise. Strap in buckaroos.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

10. Totally Nothing Going On There, No Ma'am

The door to Twilight’s study opened gently, old hinges alerting Twilight to any possible attempt at stealth. Evidently her latest unwanted visitor had also realized that, and gave a polite cough. Twilight looked up.

It was her mother. Her actual mother.

Of course. Who else would it be?

“What do you want?” Luna cringed, and Twilight pulled back a bit. Had the Princess been crying?

“I… merely wished to see how you were doing.”

“I’ve been yelling a lot,” Twilight grumbled. “Using the Royal Canterlot Voice and everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole castle knows about my secret interpersonal drama.”

“Indeed, it seems you are determined to give a particularly epic dressing down to each member of your immediate family.”

“You know what? I think I have a right to.”

“Yet… you are not upset with me? I would have assumed I would be a ready source of emotional pain,” Luna gave her a guilty look. Twilight hoped it wasn’t deliberate.

“I’m trying to… I think you’re going through a lot too. I’m not trying to be a mean pony, I’m not. If anything, I blame Princess Celestia. She’s… got a lot to answer for.”

“She is your aunt.”

“I know.”

“She loves you.”

“Does she?” Twilight flashed her a look. “You at least have an excuse, what’s hers?”

Luna huffed. “Are you going to be curt and standoffish to everypony that attempts to help you, daughter? Did you not just insist that you are not a ‘mean pony’?”

“Sorry. I guess,” Twilight shrugged, expressionless. “I’m lashing out in ways I’ve never done before.”

“It is a difficult adjustment. But that is no excuse for making your beloved cry.”

Twilight gave her a confused whinny. “I beg your pardon?”

“Pinkie Pie? Is she not… oh, what’s the term ponies use nowadays, your ‘girlfriend’? Yes?”

Twilight blushed furiously, embarrassment cutting through all the indifferent anger like a disgruntled automotive repair shop owner in an armored bulldozer plowing through lemon meringue.

“She’s not… We’re not…” She sputtered, but her red face only made Luna all confident.

“Are you that physically affectionate with all your friends?”

“Yes! I mean… not exactly. Pinkie’s just… she’s just like that.”

“And you like that she is ‘like that’, yes?”

“No! I mean yes, I mean, of course I do. That doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“Has she thrown a pie in your face yet?”

“Why would that make a difference?”

“As I understand it, it is the traditional form of courtship for Fools.”

“You’re basing that off one single data point!”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” Luna gave her a smug smile.

Twilight looked down, shyly.

“Several times. It’s usually cherry pie.”

“A-ha!”

The smaller alicorn huffed, righteously indignant as she slammed her book down. “You know what, I liked it better when you were trying to convince me to give a damn about Celestia! I’m going to the library.”

“Twilight, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t bother following if you’re just going to act like a nosy mom. At least you’ve got that down pat,” Twilight trotted out, slamming the door shut behind her. Luna’s triumph over having won the argument quickly gave way to motherly shame.

She hadn’t meant to come off as teasing. How was it that a thousand years had passed and she was still terrible at the whole mother thing?

Dejected, Luna inched over to the book her daughter had been reading, glancing at the cover. It made her raise an eyebrow.

“The Physics and Orbital Mechanics of Juggling?”

Author's Note

Short chapter this time. Sometimes things are awkward like that.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

11. Beginnings & Endings

The snow came down, and it came down hard.

As much as royalty was afforded the comforts of pegasus-controlled custom weather, sooner or later the seasons had to be given priority. Too many sunny spring days by Celestia’s decree had meant that this winter was going to be a bad one. Not enough to starve or freeze anypony, thank the stars, but certainly enough to where the unicorns on staff had become quite adept at shoveling snow. Apparently several new spells had been invented just to help with such a task, including a persistent and rather terrifying fire-spouting one developed by a disgruntled guard who said he didn’t have the patience to “shovel four hundred thousand tons of white bullshit”.

Peritwinkle had told her with the blizzard and winter being what it was, more ponies wouldn’t be willing to risk the cold when they could figure out their problems themselves. He said that even Celestia’s Day Court wasn’t getting many petitioners.

Not much comfort that, seeing as Luna’s court hadn’t seen any petitioners in months. Her mood had been dark, the comfort and love of her Fool a single burning ember in the frozen hearth of her life. Even these nights were becoming too long for her.

She needed a distraction. She needed to get away, at least for one night. That’s why she was doing this.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Her Fool looked up from the little desk, where he was writing, next to her throne. The entire thing was comical, and probably would have gone over well if the room hadn’t been empty. He said he didn’t mind; it let him focus on his work.

“Sorry,” he spat the quill out. “Had to get the last matrices right. Didn’t have time today, there was a huge influx of farmers complaining about snowstorms to Princess Celestia today. Thank the stars that something simple like a pie trick is enough to calm those ponies down.”

Luna frowned, striding out of her throne. “Please. No talk of Celestia or the court or the castle.”

“Or the weather?”

“Especially the weather,” cringed Luna. “For now I just want it to be you and I, and a warm night.”

“I beg your pardon Your Highness, but while I am happy to provide Equestria’s shining example of ethereal beauty with my unworthy company—”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?”

“You seem to need the compliments more than usual,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I don’t think I can stop a blizzard any more than I can juggle the moon.”

“You are fortunate then, my love, for I can do both.”

“Don’t juggle the moon Luna.”

“I am simply saying, should the need arise, I can,” Luna wrapped her wing around Peritwinkle, pulling him closer. “As for the blizzard…”

Horn glowing, a bubble of dark blue magical energy formed around them, and in an instant, they were no longer in the castle, and it was no longer snowing. Instead, they stood looking out over a sea of dunes beneath an overcast evening sky.

“The Aldmareris Desert; a continent away and far from Equestria’s blizzards. Quite difficult to get snowed on in a land that never snows,” she declared proudly.

Peritwinkle gazed out over the dunes, stunned at the sheer range of Luna’s teleportation, until the scholar in him took over, turning back to his alicorn lover with a quizzical look.

“Odd. I would have thought it would still be cold. As I recall, air in a desert is too dry to retain heat during the night.”

Luna nodded. “A normal desert, yes. But the Aldmareris is unique. Millennia ago, it was a lush arcane forest.”

“Well… it’s a desert now.”

“A horrific cataclysm will make a desert out of any place, I suppose,” Luna waved a hoof. “The magic still permeates the air, however, warming it when the sun cannot, hence the cloud cover. It’s one of the most naturally magical places in the world and… are you sticking your tongue out?”

“Mmhmm.” His tongue flicked back into his mouth. “Tastes like citrus.”

“Lord Peritwinkle, I refuse to believe that anypony is capable of tasting magic!”

“Oh?” He glanced over at her slyly. “And have you tested that hypothesis?”

Luna frowned, then hesitantly stuck out her own tongue. Her eyes widened, smacking her lips as she thought for a moment.

“Lime I believe.”

“Ha! I’m surprised you never tasted it before.”

Luna huffed. “Well some of us have had hobbies other than tasting magical energies,” She paused. “I wonder if different forms of magic taste differently. This requires further study.”

“I mean, if you’ve got something magical you’d like me to stick my face in, it’ll probably still taste like lime all the same.”

“You will lick what I tell you to lick, Fool.”

“And I will do it happily, Your Highness,” he held out a hoof. “Shall I escort you to… I assume it's some sort of desert villa? A sandy chateau?”

“Hardly anything so grand, but I believe you shall appreciate it all the same,” she took his hoof, horn glowing once again as the sand around them parted and drained away, revealing that they had been standing on the precipice of a stone stairwell, a door at the bottom opening slowly.

“Shall we?”

Peritwinkle stared open-mouthed at the carved murals and the glow of lights with no apparent fire, striding through it as Luna trotted beside him proudly.

“Incredible, the intricacy on these tiles alone means it must’ve taken ages to carve. And with those murals being of Gusty the Great, this must make this place centuries old!”

“Five thousand,” clarified Luna. “Give or take a few decades.”

“Five thousand? It’s in near perfect condition.”

“Thank you, it has been quite the endeavor to restore it all.”

“Restored? You did this?”

“It was once a waystation for a great kingdom, now as lost to time as the forests of Aldmareis,” mused Luna. “It’s taken me the better part of seven years to dig it out and restore the spells to working condition. Only now is it ready.”

“Ready for—?”

“Us,” Luna strode across the threshold at the end of the hallway into the wide room beyond. Plans and books sat strewn about, while various tools of an alicorny nature were tucked away in small alcoves here and there. A large and comfortable bed lay in the center, Luna moving towards it while pointing out the other doorways along the walls.

“A larder that preserves food, a small bathhouse, other rooms that once served as quarters for additional ponies. Now, I suppose, they could be anything we wanted.”

Luna trotted over to the bed, hopping up on it and sighing in comfort as she stretched out. Peritwinkle hesitated, his face beginning to turn a shade of red. Luna just rolled her eyes.

“Come now, my lord. Surely our time together as lovers has not made you feel as if you need a written invitation to join the Princess of the Night in bed?”

Swallowing hard, he awkwardly climbed up onto the sheets, laying down on his back next to Luna as they stared up at the rocky ceiling.

“It’s a really comfortable bed.”

“Indeed. You would not believe the difficulty in trying to teleport a mattress down here. Of course, the view makes it all the more worth it.”

“It’s a very nice ceiling, I agree.”

Luna giggled, pointing a hoof up and lighting up her horn. The ceiling above them began to fade away, washed away like paint on stone, revealing the cloudy sky above them. Another wave of her hoof, and the clouds parted. Her lover gasped. High above them, there were thousands upon thousands of stars. The entire sky was filled with them, twinkling like distant gemstones.

“The staff keep the castle well lit, too well lit. Between that and the winter snow, it can sometimes be hard to witness the night as it should be. Here though, there’s nothing to get in the way.”

“It’s beautiful…” He breathed, awestruck.

“It is?” She shot him a surprised look.

“Beyond beautiful. I— You made these, didn’t you? The stars.”

She frowned. “Y-yes?”

“You’re an incredible mare, Luna.”

Her frown just deepened, confusing feelings swirling around in her.

“I had hoped more would see it that way…” She admitted.

He rolled over to look at the princess. “Luna?”

“...Do I matter to ponies?” She asked quietly.

“Of course you do!”

“You are the first pony I have ever met that has called my stars beautiful. My court sits empty and it seems every noblestallion or lady I meet wouldn’t give the night a second thought. It’s something to be slept through while they wait for the sun. To them, I might as well not exist. What I do is just… something that is in the way of what truly matters. Better that I just leave it all behind.”

“If they think that way then, and I beg your pardon, your highness, they’re assholes.”

“Peritwinkle!”

“It’s true though,” He gave her a hard look. “I… I used to want to matter too. I wanted my name spoken of with the same reverence that they give Custardpants, or the Great Whitewash, even. To be the clown to end all clowns.”

“I… I do not know who those ponies are.”

“That’s why my dreams changed, Luna. That night I met you was the most wonderful night of my life. But how many of the nobles that watched me perform do you think will remember me? How many of them do you think even remember me right now?”

“I will never forget that night, at least, my love.”

“Exactly,” he sat up, taking her hooves in his. “You are what matters to me, Luna. My friends matter. My family does. I don’t make jokes or tricks for the crowd. I make jokes for them. For you.”

“I suppose we are both artists, in our own way,” Luna admitted.

“You’re the greatest artist I know, Luna. There are ponies out there that already adore what you’ve created; stargazers and late night scholars, even your sister.”

“I doubt that,” Luna fought the rising hackles that seemed to come about whenever Celestia was mentioned.

“Do you?”

“...No,” she admitted. “I would miss her, I would miss the castle.”

“And she’d miss your constellations. We juggle the balls we’re given, Luna. Move the stars for the ponies who matter to you, because I guarantee that you matter to them.”

He touched her face with his hoof. “You matter to me.”

Both of them laid back down, gazing back up at the stars.

“I lost count of them, you know,” she said finally. “It sounds silly, as I put them up there to begin with, but I have no idea how many stars there are anymore. Truthfully, I prefer to focus on crafting individual constellations.”

Her lover followed her gaze, scratching his chin for a moment.

“Two.”

“What?”

“There’s at least two stars up there,” he concluded.

“Two—” Luna blinked, then laughed. “Why yes, dearest Fool, I suppose you are correct. There are at least two stars up there.”

“Maybe more,” he smiled.

“Maybe more!”

“Feel better?” He said, nuzzling his muzzle into her neck.

“Somewhat,” she sighed, wrapping her wings around him. “One can never say you aren’t dedicated to your job, my Fool.”

“That is what I want to do with my life now, Luna. I want to make you laugh.”

“Always?”

“Always and anything. A day spent making you happy is a day fulfilled.”

“Anything?

“Anything. Within reason,” he said. “Juggling the moon, for example, may be a bit beyond me. And I believe it might offend Your Highness if I were to handle her sacred charge.”

“No moon juggling, I promise. But…” She hesitated. “May I request something else?”

“I live to serve, Princess.”

“Could you stay with me tonight?”

He looked up at her, face red as her own. “You mean—”

“I want to be with you. No stolen moments, no slinking in secret for a chaste kiss. I want it to just be you and me. I want to feel like nothing else matters.”

“Won’t Equestria notice our extended leave of absence?”

Luna pulled him in tighter. “I have been told that they also do not matter. Not right now.”

He gulped, again. Bright red really showed up on light blue too easily. Even she, internally, was close to panicking.

But she wanted this. She wanted him. Nopony else mattered.

He leaned forward, lips meeting hers, before his muzzle moved down to her neck.

“May I make you happy, princess?” He whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You may,” she said gently.

“Peritwinkle?”

“Yes, Luna?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

This time, it wasn’t the desert, but a peaceful clearing on a warm summer night. It was another one of Luna’s secret spots, the perfect place for a midnight picnic.

Though she towered over him and could possibly move a small mountain with her magic, the Royal Fool insisted on carrying the picnic supplies. Something about not wanting to cause her undue stress.

It was a noble thought, in its own adorable way, so she let him fawn and fuss over her. After all, she had as much experience being a pregnant alicorn as he did with caring for one. Neither knew what to expect.

Perhaps it was best to take it easy. The aches and morning sickness weren’t something she looked forward to, but already she’d be ready to shatter the moon if it meant giving her daughter the best possible life. Making a few sacrifices and letting her Fool shoulder some of the burden was a small price to pay.

At a little less than halfway along in her pregnancy, she had started to show. While the couple had reluctantly admitted that Luna’s Night Court would remain as empty as the royal cake vaults after Celestia had too many glasses of hard cider, she still had enough royal duties and enough ponies needing her attention that an illusion spell was somewhat necessary. After all, an unwed pregnant mare may raise questions at court, but an unwed pregnant princess would cause absolute scandal.

And at this point the nobility were chomping at the bit for something salacious. The Royal Pony Sisters provided an annoying dearth of gossip, Celestia’s late night vault raids aside.

But here, in a clearing only she and her hidden lover knew about, she could relax. No illusions, no secrets. It almost felt normal, in a way. It certainly felt right.

She looked across the lantern light at the object of her affections. Some day, they could be open about all this. Some day, he’d sit by her side as Prince Consort, and there’d be no more secret picnics or hidden trysts in the lost places of the world she’d dug up.

He might look good in royal raiments, he certainly looked adorable with that quill in his mouth, face scrunched in concentration as he scribbled away in a notebook next to her.

“Another treatise on rubber chicken physics, my love?”

“Maybe for when she’s older,” he spat the quill out, eyes briefly flicking down to her belly. “For now, I want to start with something classical. A gift from the heart, one might say. Something that, years from now, she can look at and always know how much she means to me.”

“I am sure she appreciates the effort.”

“I’m hoping she will. You only really get one shot to be a dad for the first time.”

“A dad?”

“A father,” he clarified, clearing his throat again. “Sorry, it’s an earth pony term. If one were to spend time cavorting around in village taverns for your minstrel electives you’d hear the word often enough.”

“A minstrel?” Luna’s ears perked up. “You never told me you were a bard!”

“Not the best one, Luna. Or even a decent one. My time playing the lute was a dark age in Equestria, to say the least.”

“Perhaps, but how is your singing voice?”

“Far less beautiful than yours, dear. Why?”

Gingerly, Luna sat on her haunches in front of him, her horn glowed briefly, and a lute suddenly appeared before her, she looked up at him expectantly.

Peritwinkle sighed, putting his notebook away. “Luna…”

“You would decline an opportunity to serenade the mother of your foal?” She pouted. “And surely you would not deny your daughter the gift of her father’s singing voice as well?”

Now it was Peritwinkle’s turn to be indignant. “I would never!”

Luna just grinned, and he finally rolled his eyes, smiling back. “Princess or not, I’m going to spoil her rotten, aren’t I?”

“A Royal Fool outwitted and manipulated by a foal? One would hope not,” Luna laid down, placing her head in his lap, trying to get more comfortable. “Though I suppose she would learn at an early age how to manipulate her ‘dad’. Children can be quite perceptive in such matters. I myself managed many crocodile tears when it came to matters of cookies from Star Swirl, back when I was a filly.”

The Fool paused as he brought the lute up in his forelegs, clearing his throat again. “Ah. Star Swirl. Right.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Well as a tavern bard most of the songs I know are all rather… bawdy.”

“A bit of bawd is good for a developing infant.”

“And most of them involve Star Swirl, and his staff.”

“Hence the hesitation. Believe me, my love, you are not going to surprise me. I’ve heard them all at this point. Celestia and I invented a few of them as teenagers ourselves.”

“I— Wait, really?”

“There is nothing in Equestria more inspired towards ribald lyrics than a filly chafing at curfew, I assure you. We should both be prepared for Twilight to do the same, perhaps to even worse extremes, if she inherits our penchant for literacy.”

Peritwinkle shot her a confused look. “Twilight?”

She put a hoof to her stomach. “Twilight Sparkle. It was that, or Aurora. But as those do not appear this far south, I thought it less appropriate.”

He sat there for a moment, eyes watering. Blinking away a few small tears, he hefted the lute up.

“Well then, Twilight Sparkle, consider this one for you.” He cleared his throat to begin, which turned into a cough.

“Sorry, the summer air’s a bit dry I suppose. Now, how’s that one about the knob go—”

Peritwinkle began to cough again, and again. Harder, wetter, hacking and wheezing. Bits of small black particles began to come out of his mouth, causing Luna to jolt up.

“My love? What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?!”

“Luna… I don’t… I think we might have to reschedule this private concert.”

Breaths growing short, he fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Peritwinkle!”

Author's Note

Fun fact: the earliest known instance of the word 'dad' was apparently in the 1500s.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

12. Lex Comedium

Taking her usual seat in her usual library (or what counted for ‘usual’ for her these days, it was rare she made it back to the castle), Twilight fumed. She had come here looking for a book, something to take her mind off everything, but what could she possibly read at this point?

Even ignoring the fact that she’d conquered every text on these shelves (save for the Canterlot census results), she didn’t think there was a book in all of Equestria that’d be engaging enough to distract her from all of this.

But maybe something else might? She thought of the juggling book she had picked out on a whim. She had left it behind, but she wasn’t going to go back and risk another confrontation with her mother.

Her mother. Something stirred, and Luna's and her… Pinkie Pie’s comments from the day before drifted through the fog of her brain. She remembered them mentioning something about theories. Essays. Published manuscripts written by… him.

Her father.

The most sincere clown there ever was, huh?

“Excuse me?” Twilight addressed the empty air in front of her. She hadn’t lived in the castle for a few years, but she hadn’t forgotten the peculiarities and privileges that came with it.

Thus she hadn’t forgotten that royal aides were everywhere. She suspected the castle may be partially made out of them. Sure enough, the air parted, giving way to a middle-aged unicorn.

“Yes, Princess? How may I help you?” The aide asked cooly.

“I’m trying to find anything written by Peritwinkle, if you don’t mind.”

“Peritwinkle?” The unicorn thought for a moment. “There’s not going to be any of his works here, but the southwest library wing should have the entire collection. If you’d follow me.”

The mare beckoned Twilight out of the comfort of her favorite library and into the cold halls of the rest of the castle. It was almost chilling to Twilight how quickly her opinion had soured on every non-book area of this place. Too many alcoves held too many memories of too many lessons taught to her by a Princess who had lied to her too many times. To think she had once accidentally called Celestia ‘mom’. Is that why she made Cadance call her auntie?

“She cried for days after she gave you up, you know.”

“Huh?” Twilight Sparkle turned towards the unicorn aide. There were a lot of them in the castle, and Twilight’s interactions with them as a student had been limited, seeing as most of their time was taken up serving the princess directly. Still, she seemed familiar. Raven Inkwell was her name, wasn’t it?

“Sorry, who cried?”

“Princess Celestia. The day she brought you back she had asked for my assistance. She didn’t know a thing about foal care, hadn’t even changed a diaper in a thousand years, she said. I spent a week helping before she… before your family took you home.”

“Mmm,” Twilight grunted. Great. Just another pony that lied to her.

“My mother passed away last year. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We…. We fought, sometimes,” Inkwell sniffed. “I was happy that we were able to make up in time before she was gone, even if I didn’t end up getting to spend as much time as I would have liked with her.”

Ah. That’s where this was going.

“Did Celestia put you up to this?” Accused Twilight. “Another stupid thing in my life she manufactured from the start?”

“I’m not lying, Your Highness. I would never. She loves you, she loves you so much she’d forgo the only chance she’d ever get to see you grow up if it meant you’d have a better life.”

“So you think she did the right thing?”

Raven Inkwell finally stopped at the door, and looked downcast. “I think… I think that when a pony loves someone, they’ll try to do what they think is best for that pony. Sometimes, they don’t realize that it may hurt that pony in ways they didn’t intend.”

“It still hurts,” Twilight replied flatly.

“But she still loves you,” Raven Inkwell countered. “You’ve no idea how happy she was when she learned you had been accepted to the School for Gifted Unicorns.”

Twilight paused, her anger suddenly cooled. “When I’d been accepted? She didn’t know I had applied?”

“She didn’t even know you were still in Canterlot until you nearly destroyed the testing classrooms. She didn’t want you to feel like you hadn’t earned it.”

Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it. The unicorn aide nodded, opening the door to the library, several other scholars already inside.

“You’ll find copies of Peritwinkle’s works on aisle P, stack twelve. Will that be all, Princess?”

“You’re dismissed, Miss Inkwell.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she turned to enter whatever hidden dimension aides presumably lived in, but then hesitated. “I hope it works out for you.”

Twilight just rolled her eyes, trotting down the aisles to find her quarry.

Her eyes spotted a collection of small leatherbound volumes, bright purple in color. Levitating them down, the purple text declared them to be the Lex Comedium I, the Lex Comedium II, and the Unfinished Juggler’s Arcanium (with a new foreword by Ponyacci).

Bingo. Hard to be anything else with names like that, though the Unfinished part of the last one’s title was a little worrying. But that worry was buried under the excitement of reading a new book series in a field of study she hadn’t even given a thought to.

Well, no thought save for certain very enticing fantasies of her curled up in front of a warm fire with a certain party pony as she lectured Twilight in extreme detail the fundamental laws of comedy science before they—

No, no thoughts about anything like that. She was angry right now, angry! And she had her father’s legacy to educate herself on. Generations of entertainers had been inspired by these slim little booklets. Time to see what all the fuss was about.

And maybe, just maybe, learn a little bit about the one family member that couldn’t disappoint her. Unless he didn’t properly cite any of his scientific sources.

Opening the first page of the first volume, Twilight did what she did best when she was upset: lose herself in a good book.

Dry wit. That’s how she would describe it. Twilight wasn’t the best judge of humor, having tried to dissect it to its essential bits before being informed by Pinkie that humor didn’t work that way (which is to say, she was using the wrong scientific methods), but Peritwinkle’s stream of consciousness came off as… wry? If that was the appropriate word for it.

Still, she wasn’t sure she understood what the big deal was. It was worth a sensible smile here and there, but maybe the Royal Fool’s humor was just too out of date for her to understand.

And look there, one of his proofs was outright wrong. He forgot to integrate the last exponent which made it come out to–

Oh, wait. That integral would correspond with the matrix on page 10 and…

Oh!

Twilight couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Clever! A few of the other ponies turned to glare at her, and she blushed a bit.

“Sorry. Calculus joke.”

As if a veil had been lifted from Twilight’s eyes, she started looking closer at the various equations and treatises. Even if they were on things like pies and the right trajectory for a squirting flower there was an uninhibited wit to the Fool’s formulas. Even when the answers were wrong they were so comically over the top wrong that it was clearly him poking fun at it all.

They were good. Brilliant. More and more she found herself giggling like a schoolfilly, earning her dirty looks from those who took the sanctity of library silence a bit more seriously, and she excused herself to a remote and comfortable corner where she could turn the pages and cackle to herself in peace.

It hurt to laugh. And not in a good way.

Dammit, they were hilarious. Her father was hilarious. He wrote like she did. He thought like she did. And it wasn’t helping her mood. The least Celestia could have done is suggested this as part of her curriculum.

Maybe then reading these books wouldn’t hurt so much.

Maybe then she wouldn’t have felt the despair of knowing a pony in the exact instance she realized she’d never even talk to him.

Maybe she wouldn’t feel ashamed at having sent Pinkie away in tears. After all, Pinkie had gotten these exact same jokes.

But… this was what Twilight was left with, wasn’t it? A title she didn’t earn, family members that couldn’t tell the truth, a… somepony she had chased away (and who knew what they even were right now) and scrolls written by a dead pony she’d never, ever meet.

Emotional exhaustion reached its boiling point and metastasized into fully physical exhaustion. She found her eyelids getting heavy, and stifled a yawn as best she could.

“I wish… I wish I could have known you. At least talked to you, just once. Maybe you’d get it. Maybe you’d understand.”

Sagging down into the comforting weight of old book-nook pillows, Twilight drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

14. Found Moment

With an enormous splintering sound, Celestia burst through the doors of her bedroom, horn aglow and wings unfolded. After one too many incidents, the Day Princess had been determined not to be caught unawares ever again, and had placed enough tripwire and sensory spells to give even the most paranoid security expert pause.

And now, most of them had been triggered. At least the cake vault seemed secure.

“Show yourself!” She bellowed into the dark room beyond. There was a guilty crash as another pony within stood up, flicking on a lamp and putting her hooves up. Celestia huffed.

“I don't know who you are, but you’re either the most daring pony or the most foolish pony I’ve ever met to try and—” Celestia paused, taking in the scene before her. She hadn’t recognized the burglar at first, what with her long hair and desaturated pink coat, but there was no mistaking that cutie mark.”

“...Pinkie Pie?”

“Hi, Princess Celestia,” the earth pony said. She pulled a small metal contraption out from underneath the Princess’ mattress, inspecting it sadly.

“Is… is that a cannon?”

Pinkie nodded morosely. “After the changeling invasion I put them all around the castle in case there was an emergency. It never hurts to be prepared.”

“Even in my bedroom?” Celestia just watched with morbid fascination.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Pinkie Pie repeated. “But… seeing as I won’t be coming back here anytime soon or… ever again, I thought ‘what’s even the point’. I’m just collecting the last few I missed. Sorry to bother you, princess. I’ll be out of your weird wavy hair in a second...”

Gold sparkles surrounded the cannon, lifting it away from Pinkie as she stumbled back in surprise.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning dear, alright?”

Pinkie reached out for the miniature cannon, but Celestia held it aloft, looking at the defeated mare beneath her with as much sympathy as she could.

“Now… why would you think you’re not coming back to the castle?”

Pinkie stopped trying to retrieve the firearm, and looked down sadly. “I know when I’m not welcome, Twilight made that clear…”

“Twilight? What did she do now?”

Pinkie couldn’t look more pathetic if she tried. “She yelled at me. I know when I’m not wanted.”

Celestia groaned, then took a deep breath, flaring her wings. “I don’t know what’s gotten into my niece, but if she’s going to start a screaming match with every pony that comes to help her, then things have gone far enough!”

“What are you doing?” Pinkie suddenly looked terrified. “You’re not going to banish her to the moon, are you?”

“What?”

“Because she’s Luna’s daughter?”

“No, I—” Celestia facehoofed. “You and I are going to go find Twilight and we are going to talk this all out like adults.”

“Nooooooooo!”

Celestia jumped as Pinkie dove for her foreleg, clinging to it for dear life.

“Pinkie, while I appreciate your impression of a ball-and-chain, I’d rather not be kept prisoner in my own castle.”

“Huh?”

“Can you let me go, please?”

“You can’t see Twilight!” Pinkie smushed her muzzle into Celestia’s fur, starting to sob. “Y-you’ll only make everything worse!”

“Pinkie!”

“I won’t let you!”

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, let go of me.”

Hooves relaxing, Pinkie let her forelegs drop, getting to her hooves and sniffling a bit, eyes watery and wobbling still with fresh tears.

“Now…” Celestia draped a wing over the Element of Laughter. “What exactly did Twilight say to you to put you in such a state?”

“I said dumb things and now she hates me. She said she didn’t want to see me, that she never wanted to see me ever again.”

“Did she actually say that she hates you and never wants to see you again?” Celestia looked over the formerly pink pony, recalling a particular incident some time ago where Pinkie’s assumptions had led her down a path that ended with her talking to a sack of flour.

“She implied it! It was implied!”

“She does not hate you, Pinkie Pie,” insisted Celestia.

“Yes she does!” Pinkie buried her face in Celestia’s foreleg again.

“Believe me, Twilight tends to make rash decisions and says things she doesn’t mean when she’s upset. Just as you tend to assume the worst in ponies when you are upset.”

Pinkie wiped away some of her tears. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment.

“Do you know what happens when a pony ascends into an alicorn?”

“They explode?”

“No—” Celestia thought for a moment. “Well, yes, but before they become an alicorn, they’re brought to a realm called Caelum.”

Prinkie frowned. “Caelum? As in heaven?”

“Of a sort.”

“So Twilight died when she exploded.”

“No!”

“But she blew up and went to heaven.”

“Her immortal essence ended up on the astral plane before her ascension restored her corporeal form.”

“So her soul was in heaven! And then Twilight came back to life!”

“Pinkie, we’re getting off topic. The point is where Twilight was—”

“When she was dead…”

“When she was ascending,” Celestia gave her a look. “I met her there. Many ponies think that ascension happens at my discretion, but the truth is that I’ve merely appointed myself a chaperone to new alicorns. So many ponies would end up in Caelum, scared and confused. I promised myself I’d always be there for whomever came through. That included Twilight.”

Celestia’s horn glowed, lifting and placing Pinkie in front of her like a lectured foal.

“When I journey with them, there are always scenes, moments that play across the sky from their memories. Moments that shaped them to make the choices that led to their ascension. Moments associated with extremely strong emotions. Moments of bravery, or of love. Do you understand?”

Pinkie Pie nodded, not quite sure where the Princess was going with this.

“In all those moments of Twilight’s life, one pony popped up more than any other. And it was you, Pinkie Pie.”

“Me?”

“You are more than just her friend, Pinkie. Every day you’ve spent with Twilight is a day you’ve given her a wonderful gift, do you know what that is?”

“Is it parties?”

“You make her happy, Pinkie. You make her laugh. And trust me, I know how important such things are to my family. Believe me, there may be days when you’ll infuriate Twilight, but she will never, ever, ever hate you, okay?”

“Okay…” Pinkie Pie’s train of thought immediately was rerouted back onto its main mental line. “But promise me you won’t talk to Twilight! This is… some stuff’s stuff she’s got to figure out herself, yeah? I want you not to go near her yet, please?” Pinkie Pie fixed Celestia with the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster. Even with Pinkie drained of color, it was highly effective.

Celestia sighed. “I promise—”

“Pinkie promise!”

“I cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye promise,” Celestia clarified, not missing a beat. “I won’t try to visit Twilight to make amends, on one condition.”

Pinkie Pie looked up at her, ears perking up.

“You must also promise me that you’ll stay in the castle. At least until you and Twilight have had a chance to talk things over.”

And down went her ears. “I don’t think it’s going to work out the way you think, Princess. But… okay. I promise to wait for whatever happens.”

“Then we have an accord. I will not see Twilight at all,” Celestia reached out her hoof, letting Pinkie Pie take it and shake it with a tiny bit of renewed enthusiasm.

“I just don’t know what else I can do, Tia.”

Celestia sat by the fireplace in her quarters, calmly watching her sister restlessly pace around her. The Princess had honored Pinkie Pie’s request and made a point to stay out of Twilight’s way, but it hadn’t taken much convincing. Twilight might have been bad at skipping rocks, but an angry Twilight had a vicious aim if she wanted to, and Celestia was probably an ideal target right now.

“At least when she didn’t know I could at least be around her as a friend. Now all I’ve done is make things worse between us. Between you and her. Between her and her… her real parents.”

“It’s a huge change in her life, Luna,” Celestia patted her sister on the back. “We knew she was going to be upset, we knew she was going to be angry. I’d be angry, no matter what.”

“She’s been launching into tirades against anyone she feels has wronged her. She’s angry, yes. But have you ever seen her this angry?”

“Not… quite, but then she’s never gone through something like this,” Celestia admitted. “I feel like if you give her time, she’ll understand.”

“I do not think that time will heal this wound, Tia. A part of me feels that it’s more than just feeling betrayed and lied to.”

“She’s your daughter, Luna. You’re a lot more alike than you might realize. Why do you think she’s upset?”

Luna thought for a moment. “I… am often despondent when things are outside of my control, I think. All those years ago when… Nightmare Moon happened, that was so much a part of it. There were problems I couldn’t solve. I couldn’t make ponies care about me. I couldn’t stop death. Twilight and I, we both see the world as problems that require solutions.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Twilight being upset with us is a problem with a lot of solutions. She’s a forgiving girl.”

“I should have seen it when she forgave me, even after everything I did to her,” Luna sighed, finally realizing what had gone so wrong. “It’s the same reason why, at first, she was willing to indulge my vague hope that maybe I could be reunited with my daughter. But I’m a luckless idiot.”

“You’re a brilliant pony and a fortunate one Luna, you know that.”

“But I’m not! Don’t you see? Twilight’s upset because he’s gone. Time and circumstance took away a father from her. She’s been robbed of somepony who desperately wanted to meet her, who Miss Pie, lovely mare all the same as she is, introduced the idea that there’s a member of her family, a brilliant scholar, forever unknown to her.”

She groaned. “And I, misfortunate imbecile that I am, lost perhaps the one trinket that might rectify the situation...”

“A trinket?” Celestia paused. “Luna, this isn’t something to do with necromancy is it? We both agreed that any spell found in a book made from pony skin wasn’t worth something indulging—”

“Oh for the love of— Not this lecture again,” Luna rolled her eyes. “It was a small amulet made of blue crystal, nothing undead about the damn thing. We both learned our lesson about that.”

“Blue crystal amulet…” Celestia’s eyes lit up. “Wait right here!”

Luna opened her mouth to protest, only for Celestia to wink out of the room with a golden teleportationy POP, reappearing a few seconds later, horn aglow as she held aloft something Luna hadn’t seen in over a thousand years. She edged closer to her sister, who grinned as she proudly presented it to her.

“Celestia… is that…?”

“Sorry, I had to take a trip down to the castle vaults. There’s powerful magic swirling through this, enough where I felt that might have been inappropriate for me to handle it and I didn’t want it falling into the wrong hooves. I mean, it’s been centuries since I even thought of it, but is this what you’re talking about?”

Luna held a hoof up to her mouth, her own magic taking it out of Celestia’s aura and floating it over.

“You saved it, after all these years?”

“It was one of the few things of yours I had left, little sister,” Celestia smiled. “Though now I’m a little curious as to what exactly it is.”

“It’s him, Tia. A single hour in his life, preserved, I thought…” Luna began to sob. “I t-thought this was lost forever.”

Celestia paused. “A frozen moment.”

Luna nodded through the tears. “A piece of his soul.”

“You should use it, Luna. I tried my best after Peritwinkle passed and you were banished to honor his memory, seeing how much he meant to you. But I don’t think any amount of posthumous validation would compare to a restored moment of closure.”

Luna shook her head. “This wasn’t for me, Celestia. It never was. This was meant to be something for Twilight. Something when she was old enough to understand.”

“Do you think she’d be ready? Twilight’s got a big heart, but something like this… it needs time to be prepared.”

“She needs her family right now. But more than anything at this moment, she needs one pony in particular.”

Celestia held out a hoof. “He’s your Fool, Luna. Do what you need to do.”

Nodding, Luna turned to go, wrapping the amulet around her neck. Right before she reached the room doors. She paused.

“Luna?”

The younger alicorn rushed back to her sister, throwing her wings around her and hugging her tight.

“Thank you, sister. Thank you.”

Celestia wrapped her wings around Luna, feeling her own eyes well up.

“I told you, Luna. I’m here for you, always.”

A brief summoning of one of the castle’s debatably incorporeal aides had revealed that, unsurprisingly, Twilight had ended up in one of the library wings, apparently intent on tracking down some of her father’s published works.

Luna smiled. There was a deep satisfaction at realizing that, even after a thousand years apart, she truly knew her daughter.

A quick check through the aisles and she finally found Twilight fast asleep in an improvised little alicorn nest of books and pillows, head resting between a pile of familiar essays.

Focusing her magic, eyes glowing, Luna floated the amulet in front of Twilight, gently slipping it around her neck while taking care not to wake her. She gave her daughter a gentle nuzzle, smiling as she groaned in her sleep.

“I know. It’s not enough time, my little star. But it’s time all the same.”

With an almost musical tinkling, the amulet began to glow and vibrate, cracks forming along it.

Then, with a small airy chime, it shattered into nothing.

Author's Note

Four more chapters to go.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

15. Panacea

In her tower in the Castle of the Two Sisters, Luna took a much needed break.

There had been no petitioners or royal duties needing her immediate attention, but that didn’t mean that Luna didn’t want some time to herself now and then. Mostly so she could collapse in a sleep-deprived heap and nap. Almost entirely to nap, in fact.

At a little under six months old, Twilight Sparkle may have been a constant source of joy, perhaps the only source of joy in her life, but Grogar’s Testicles was her new foal exhausting.

She supposed it was a blessing that Celestia had stepped up to the role of nanny with an unrestrained enthusiasm that was nearly contagious. During the few months leading up to Twilight’s birth, her older sister had doted on her; it had almost felt like the old days, back when they were fillies. Of course, neither of them were now, but seeing Celestia care about her, seeing her put in the effort, it chased the dark thoughts away.

There were a lot of those, even these days.

At Luna’s request, they had kept knowledge of both her pregnancy and her daughter to as few ponies as possible. Celestia, mercifully, had taken the promise seriously, managing to keep the filly’s existence well hidden. Luna herself had admitted that both of them were being pragmatic with that; after all Twilight’s birth had brought forth a lot of questions regarding the future of Equestria as a nation: She was a princess, but was she a crown princess? Was there even a line of succession? She was just a (presumably) mortal unicorn, and there were still noble houses that would see her as some sort of political pawn, too many hypotheticals and questions that would need clear answers.

Grand endeavors had to be undertaken and sinister plots would have to be unraveled. In time, both sisters had agreed, Twilight would be introduced to her kingdom. But for now there was no reason to risk the filly’s childhood innocence for some courtly whims.

Finally shaking off the aura of sleep, Luna got to her hooves. Some days it was hard, waking up and not finding herself curled around the familiar warmth of her Fool. Some days it was easier. Twilight helped. Twilight being there always helped.

She had his eyes.

Stretching her wings, Luna glided across to her sister’s tower, stomping down a tiny, tiny flash of jealousy at the fact that it was slightly taller than hers. Let Celestia have the taller tower, let her have ponies arguing over cow ownership.

What Luna had mattered far more than any of that, even if it was currently babbling between Celestia’s forelegs at an open book. Her sister looked up as she flew in.

“You’re looking far better, little sister.”

“Indeed? Perhaps the infant’s penchant for napping holds a deeper wisdom. A brief moment of slumber does wonders,” Luna smiled as her daughter looked up from the book, tiny purple face lighting up as she struggled out of her aunt’s grasp and toddled over to the dark alicorn, continuing to babble.

“And hello to you too, my little star. I hope you have not developed a sudden sense of mischief in the brief time I have been away?”

“Hardly,” laughed Celestia. “You put a book in front of her and she’s as happy as a lark. I think she was trying to read it to me.”

Luna eyed the text that Celestia had picked out, raising an eyebrow. “The Ponyynich manuscript? I was not aware that it was possible to read that at all.”

“It’s one of the few I could find that had any pictures. But who knows?” Celestia leaned down towards her niece, letting loose a puff of air and chuckling as the filly fell backwards, squealing in delight. “Perhaps she’s naturally a brilliant scholar, the kind that would put even Star Swirl to shame.”

“I would certainly welcome a magical prodigy into our midst,” Luna smiled. “So many books in the castle library go unread, surely they are secretly crying out in despair for a fresh new face to appreciate them.”

“I’m sure they await their new lady and mistress with unrestrained anticipation,” Celestia sighed, “Truly, I envy you sometimes Luna.”

“Envy?” Luna raised an eyebrow as she scooped her daughter up, bouncing her gently. “Evidently you are unfamiliar with the rigors of childrearing, Tia.”

“Perhaps I’m not envious of the sleepless nights or soiled diapers, no,” Celestia admitted. “But to have somepony need you so utterly, to nurture them and watch them grow and discover the world around them. There’s something… there’s something to it.”

“Do you not often say you see all of Equestria as your children?”

“Luna please, half of the petitioners are old enough to be our grandmother. That’s just a silly princess platitude to calm the masses,” Celestia wrapped a wing around her younger sister.

“She’s beautiful, you know. Your brilliant little star.”

Luna sat here, regarding Twilight. Her smile faltered a little bit. Celestia wrapped her wing tighter.

“I know he’s not here Luna. But we’ll be there for her. She’ll have a wonderful life.”

“...Promise, Tia?”

“I promise.”

Daughter safely in her custody, Luna shut the door to her bedrooms gently. Twilight wasn’t asleep and was (perhaps unsurprisingly) a heavy sleeper besides, but she was also at the age when too many things excited her. Luna sometimes had trouble keeping up with her daughter’s magic energy.

She smiled. At least the magic surges had stopped.

Smiling. Laughing. Little by little, she could climb her way out of that pit of dark thoughts. She had grieved over Peritwinkle, she always would, but the weight of parental responsibility was comforting. She felt, in a small way, complete, and it was all thanks to the little bundle of fuzz and babbling that was laying before her now. Twilight turned towards her mother, regarding her with those big innocent eyes of hers before coughing openly into Luna’s face like most infants were inclined to do.

“Manners, please, my little star,” Luna turned Twilight around and placed her between her forelegs, hooves hugging her daughter as the filly wiggled about. “A princess does her best not to cough in another pony’s face. There are more subtle ways to let one know one’s displeasure.”

But instead of laughing at her mother’s hilarious joke, Twilight just continued to cough.

And cough.

Panicking, Luna scooped her daughter up again, turning the foal over, ignoring her fussing as she to make sure that Twilight wasn’t choking or worse.

“Twilight? Twilight!”

Hearing her name, the filly stopped squirming and coughing, looking back up at Luna. With one final chuffle, she spat something fuzzy out and giggled happily as the whatever-it-was fizzled in the air.

It was a single black rune.

No.

No.

It wasn’t contagious! It’s not contagious! She knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t possible.

Luna tried to stay calm, tried to do anything to avoid a panic attack. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t right.

Luna looked deep into Twilight’s eyes. The infant princess just looked back at her, tears welling up. She didn’t understand what was happening, but if her mother was scared, then obviously, she should be scared too.

It wasn’t fair.

Maternal terror gave way to righteous anger. If the universe thought it could take away the last living light of her life, it had another thing coming. Luna wasn’t the naive filly she was a year ago. The loss of her Fool and the gain of her daughter had transformed her. She had experience, she had resolve.

And most importantly, she had a List.

Twilight on her back and horn blazing with pure motherly fury, Luna summoned forth her almighty List; the vast library of hypothetical parental situations she’d worried herself sick over.

At this point it was more of a tome. It had an index. And it was leather bound.

Opening the pages and flipping towards the back, Luna's eyes desperately scanned the scenarios and solutions she had put forth, unwilling to waste even a moment of Twilight’s health.

Plasmoid invasion? Irrelevant. Potential undead suitor? Too early (though she had a wooden stake sharpened as an early precaution, just in case).

Ah! There it was. Plague of Unknown Origin. Instead of a detailed solution, there was just one word written in:

Panacea.

Of course.

Wasting no time, Luna swirled magic around herself and her ailing daughter, blasting away to her distant desert sanctuary with a familiar clap of teleportation magic. Past the door, past the traps to keep out wayward bandits, into one of the few places left in the world that could be considered safe.

She threw aside the bed, the unfinished projects, the sketches, even the books, until finally she had found the small device she had been looking for.

It hadn’t been something that could have saved Peritwinkle; even if she had managed to find a magic source large enough to power a pod of that size, she hadn’t had the materials or time to build one.

But she managed to restore one. Now, for the first time in millenia, it’d serve its purpose.

“Shhhh, hush now little one. It will be alright,” Twilight squirmed and sniffled as her mother gently unfolded the Panacea, hooking up rune after rune and finally placing the filly inside. Nuzzling her until Twilight quieted, she gave her one last reassuring smile, and activated the pod.

Arcane thrumming filled Luna’s ears as the pod slowly ascended, lights flickering as the magic was sucked out of it. It’d take a few moments to prime the spell, but once active it’d tease the plague out of Twilight, healing her while she slept peacefully.

It was okay. Twilight was okay.

With the crisis averted, Luna found herself drained. Exhausted. Panic had sapped her strength almost down to nothing, and she leaned against one of the station’s pillars. Watching the Panacea float in midair with Twilight gently slumbering inside, she began to cry.

She had almost died. Her baby had almost died. And it didn’t make any sense! Luna knew magical ailments like these weren’t contagious. Any sort of terminal arcane illness like this only came from direct exposure to dark magic.

But where in Equestria, when in Equestria, would her daughter have even had a chance to face something like that? She had been careful to make sure all of her research projects had been separate, and for the plague to progress as fast as it had, it’d take an enormous dose of thaumic radiation to begin with.

It couldn’t be another pony could it?

Could it? No. This kind of cursed magic hadn’t been seen since her and Celestia had faced down Sombra years ago, and they had…

Then it hit her.

Celestia.

What pony had been fascinated with Sombra’s spellwork after their confrontation?

What other pony had spent any time around the Royal Fool, besides her?

What other pony had that much arcane power?

Which pony had spent the day with Twilight?

Which pony had just said she envied Luna?

“No…” Luna whispered to herself pressing her head into the wall, trying to banish the familiar dark and awful thought. “She promised she’d be there. She promised she’d help. She’d never do something like—”

Never do something like this?

Like the way she hadn’t swooped in and claimed the love of Equestria for herself and herself alone? Like she hadn’t starved Luna’s court of petitioners? Like she’d hadn’t taken away every single other thing in Luna’s life? What were a few more ponies on top of everything else?

A rushing feeling drew her out of her spiral. She looked up as auroras of color danced around the Panacea above. Evidently it had absorbed enough magic to begin the process. Inside, her daughter slept peacefully.

Her daughter. Forget Equestria, forget her Night Court, forget… Peritwinkle. Twilight was what mattered. She’d survive this, she’d be okay, but what about the next time?

Would she really risk Twilight’s life on the off chance that this was all some terrible coincidence?

No. It was clear that so long as Celestia was around, so long as Celestia’s sun hung in the sky, her daughter wouldn’t be safe. She’d never be safe.

Luna stood up, steeling herself as she made up her mind, letting that dark thought finally take over. She knew what she had to do.

Taking one last look at her daughter above her, Luna went to reach out for the foal, hesitated, then stepped back.

“I will be back for you, my little star. I swear it.”

Wings flaring, horn glowing, Luna teleported away. She had a kingdom to claim.

What had she done? What had she done?

The aura of the Elements of Harmony faded, depositing Celestia on the grounds of the castle. Even with Luna… Even with Nightmare Moon gone, the full moon hung in the sky accusingly, now stained with the sin of her victory. The elements clattered to the ground around her. Somehow, she knew she’d never be able to use them ever again.

“Your Highness? Your Highness!”

A pair of guards came rushing up to her, relief on their faces as they carried another guard between them. He seemed to have been hit by something.

“Captain, I need you to gather the staff, I have a—”

“There’s no time, your majesty! Who was that? Was… was that Luna?”

“What do you mean there’s no time? And at ease, captain, I’ve… dealt with the problem.”

“Your battle took down most of the castle! The south tower’s been hit and the bridge to the north tower’s been destroyed! The main halls had most of their support pillars taken out too! We’re trying to evacuate everypony as fast as we can, and that includes you!”

“How many are injured?” Celestia tried to cling to that familiar bit of organization and leadership that, right now, was the only lifeline she had. “Are there any dead?”

“We’re not sure of the number of injuries, Your Highness, but there appear to be no deaths so far,” the guard grimaced. “I wish I could say the same of the castle. We need to leave, now.”

Still dazed with grief, Celestia blinked slowly, trying to process something the guard had said prior. The south tower going down meant she had to evacuate her staff out of her bedrooms. But the north tower would be—

“Twilight!” she screamed in horror.

“Ma’am? Wait, your highness, you can’t go there, the castle’s coming down! Princess Celestia!”

But Celestia had blasted off as fast as her wings could carry her, charging towards a tower that even now, was shifting under the weight of post-battle stress.

The guards had underestimated how much damage the sisters’ battle had wrought. The whole castle was crumbling to pieces around her; the south tower had already collapsed entirely and the north had little time left in the world as an intact building.

Of course fate would have it that Luna’s bedrooms would be at the top of the entire damn thing.

One more flight of stairs, one large door to burst through. Celestia wasted no time, tearing down a tapestry in the back, horn blazing as she threw open the heavy door, shattering any lock on it in the process.

The nursery beyond was empty.

“Twilight? Twilight! Twilight!” Celestia looked about frantically, even as the tower lurched and threw her about. The entire thing was coming down.

Throwing up her magic, Celestia tried to stay calm, casting a spell as far out as she dared, scanning the tower. There were no ponies inside save her, thank the stars. The guards had managed to evacuate most of Luna’s staff. Or what had been Luna’s staff.

But that meant no Twilight. And that meant that any attempt at staying calm was now thrown completely out the window. Celestia began tearing the nursery apart, ripping up what she could. Luna must have hid her daughter away, did she expect this much collateral damage? But she had to have left behind some clue, maybe?

An unfurled scroll caught her eye as another stony groan reverberated through the tower. Trusting her gut, Celestia grabbed the scroll and jumped out the window, giving a brief look behind her as the entire roof caved in, followed by the floor, and the floor below that one.

Luna’s tower collapsed.

Celestia sat in the ruins of her life, oblivious to the various courtiers and guards barking orders around her. Miraculously, nopony had died in the destruction, though a few injuries had been reported. Celestia hadn’t been paying attention.

Luna. Twilight. In one night she had lost her entire family. And somehow, it felt like it was her fault.

No, she hadn’t lost Twilight. Twilight wasn’t gone, she had to believe that her niece was out there. Finally unfurling the scroll she had braved the northern tower for, she looked it over. It wasn’t a missive or some diary entry like she had hoped, instead it appeared to be a series of drawings. Technical sketches and notes on a small cradle of sorts, as well as the detailed spellwork powering a… healing enchantment?

Recognition lit up Celestia’s eyes. A Panacea. She hadn’t seen one since… Well she certainly didn’t think any of them were left. Clever Luna, of course she’d have managed to get one working again, it’d have been perfect for Twilight.

Pain, a deep aching pain, stabbed at her heart. Her baby sister was on the moon now, no thanks to her. How could she not have seen what was happening? How could she let things get this bad?

Ponies talked around her, discussing plans, taking inventory of some of the few artifacts they were able to recover from both towers, whether to rebuild the castle or move it entirely (Celestia caught snippets, something about a mining town near a mountain that’d be ideal), all around her life seemed to go on, as if Equestria wasn’t missing an entire princess. As if Celestia wasn’t missing half her soul.

But there was still a ray of hope left. If Twilight was inside a Panacea, she’d be the safest pony in Equestria. And more importantly, she’d be absorbing a massive amount of magic, enough to be something that a trained pony could detect.

Celestia could do this. No matter how long it took, she’d track down her niece. Even if it took a hundred years, even if it took a thousand.

She looked down at some of the possessions they’d recovered from Luna’s tower: Jewelry, books, a few spare tiaras. Little left to indicate the family members she’d just lost.

She’d failed Luna, she wouldn’t fail Twilight. She had promised.

Author's Note

Might be a delay on some of these last three or four chapters coming in, sorry.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

16. Lucid Light

In her dreams, Twilight failed to skip rocks.

The lake again. The full moon again. Of course it was the full moon. She could change it to daylight if she truly wanted, but she’d end up looking out at the blazing sun. Somehow that was worse.

She wanted to be alone. Why couldn’t anypony see that? Why was it that everypony seemed to want to give their opinions on how her life had gone?

It’d be better for everypony if she was alone. If she had time to process everything.

If she could ever process any of this.

Right on cue, she felt the darkness next to her shift, taking the form of another pony. She didn’t need to look over to know who it was. There wasn’t exactly a surplus of dreamwalking alicorns.

“Go away, Luna,” Twilight muttered. “Listen to me, just… go away. Leave me alone.”

The pony next to her said nothing, though she felt her mother pick up one of the skipping stones in her hooves, before sending it sailing across the lake.

“You’re not going to bond with me over being shit at skipping rocks, you know. I’m not in the mood.”

The rock made contact with the water’s surface, and began to skip across it quickly. Then, suddenly, it changed direction, skipping about in a little pattern before reaching one final arcing, spinning, and depositing itself into the lake without so much as a splash.

Eyes widening, she turned over to look at the alicorn next to her. Only it wasn’t an alicorn, or even a mare.

“I’m many things kiddo, but I don’t think I’ve ever been a shitty rock-skipper,” the light blue stallion in front of her said.

She paused, the logical part of her mind seizing control from the rest of its mental crewmates, who were all currently undergoing a collective heart attack made from panic and disbelief. Cold logic gripped the steering wheel and made for the closest port of inquiry it could see.

“Hold on,” Twilight glared at him. “The word ‘kiddo’ wouldn’t have existed a thousand years ago, and your enunciation of modern Ponish is flawless. That can’t be right.”

“I haven’t got much experience, but I can say firsthand that one’s got to roll with the anachronisms when dealing with this kind of thing,” he inspected his hooves, looking smug about it. “The details are certainly right.”

“Then you’re… Some kind of memory? A construct? Just a fancy prerecorded message, like The Chineighse Room?”

“Now that was always an interesting thought experiment to me, which is also interesting because the entire concept didn’t exist when I was alive, still,” the stallion responded. “A construct in one room with an infinite supply of prewritten responses to whatever you ask it, right? Not precisely the case but it makes me think: if the machine has the appearance of communicating, what kind of personality does it have?”

Twilight paused, the shock of… any of this getting lost in the concept of a new philosophical puzzle to figure out. “I suppose that’d come down to the personality of… whoever… wrote the original responses.”

Her eyes widened. The stallion— her father— grinned in response. “Smart girl.”

“You’re him…” Twilight breathed, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. “You’re really here.”

“If we’re going to get technical, we’re nowhere. I’m your mother’s dream construct with an hour of a pony’s life and memories stapled onto it. But I think that’s good enough.”

With something that was halfway between a sob and a cry of joy, Twilight rushed at her father, tackling him to the ground. She had gained a few inches in height since her alicorn ascension, but even without that she probably would have been taller than the stallion before her.

But that just meant it was that much easier to wrap her wings around him.

“Stars kiddo, you’ve gotten so much bigger. Last time I saw you you were just a little thing. And also not born yet. And not an alicorn.”

“I-I’ve gone through some…” Twilight sniffled. “It’s been a long year. You know?” Her brow wrinkled, suddenly realizing something.

“An hour? J-just an hour?”

“A moment for a moment, your mother once said. There were five minutes catching up with her, so a little less than an hour now,” He smiled. “I’m gonna take a guess and say you know the spell.”

“But that’s— that’s not enough time!”

“Five minutes with Luna weren't enough, an hour with you will never be enough. But I'm good at improvising.”

“Wish I had some of that,” Twilight sighed. “It'd be helpful right about now.”

“We juggle the balls we've got, sweetie. Speaking of which, you said you were a shitty rock skipper?”

“I—” Twilight looked down. “Yes.”

He picked up a rock, passing it to her. Wordlessly, she turned out towards the shore, the rock levitating in her magic. But before she could let it fly, Peritwinkle put a hoof on her shoulder, making motions with his free foreleg.

“Pitch it up two degrees, then flatten out your roll three.”

She adjusted and Peritwinkle whistled, impressed.

“Not bad. You've got a born sense of spatial awareness kiddo. Should be good. Now… let it fly.”

Twilight hesitated, looking down at the stallion next to her. He nodded, giving her an assuring smile. For some reason, it filled her with confidence.

Her horn flashed and the rock accelerated far across the water. It skipped once, twice, thrice, four times before disappearing into the dark of the lake.

She did it.

“I… did it.”

“You did.”

“I did it!”

“Yes.”

“I skipped my first rock!” Twilight bounced around like a happy schoolfilly, the simple joy of success giving way to the first good mood she’d had in what felt like ages.

Which, paradoxically, just made her upset again. She stopped bouncing, wings and ears drooping.

“What’s wrong, Twilight? It was a good skip.”

“It’s just…” She pawed at the beach, looking downcast. “That’s not how any of this went, did it? I could’ve grown up normally, no lies or secret heritage to worry about. Luna could’ve been happy, everything would have worked out, and I’d have skipped rocks as a filly. But it didn’t go like that.”

“You grew up with a family that loved you.”

“A family who lied to me! Celestia lied to me, Twilight Velvet and Night Light lied to me! Even Shining Armor lied to me!”

“And Luna?

“Luna wasn’t there. She’s been missing in my life for a thousand years! Pinkie keeps saying I can love all my family, but I’m stuck between ones that can’t tell the truth and the ones that can't be around. That’s what I am. Stuck.”

Peritwinkle scratched his chin in thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“For a mare who’s what, the princess of knowledge? Princess of books? Whichever? For a mare with all that knowledge, it’s surprising how often and much you’re wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” Twilight was giving her father an indignant look. One that said that while she was excited to see him, that did come with conditions. Delicate, parental conditions.

“Wrong about pretty much everything you just said. And I can prove it. Up for an experiment?”

Twilight’s ears perked up, though her eyes narrowed. “What kind of experiment?”

“Well right now I'm essentially a dadly Tantabus—”

“A what?”

“Doesn't matter, the point is I've got enough of Luna’s magic fueling me that I've got some control over the dreamscape. If you'll allow me?”

Twilight nodded, a little confused as Peritwinkle kneeled to the ground, holding still. Suddenly the dream went dark, the beach fading and instead being replaced by her study in Canterlot Castle.

“Okay so that’s how you call them up. But how do I… Maybe it’s something that would resonate with me personally?”

“Are you trying to control the dream?” asked Twilight. “I’m not sure how I could teach you to do that if you’re not a unicorn.”

Suddenly, a small ball of light formed in the center of the room. Both father and daughter tilted their heads quizzically at it.

“You meant to do that, right?”

“Not exactly. I need to find a way to… Hmm… Maybe if I just… There we go!”

The world shifted, the ball of light flying into his hoof as he tossed it up. The landscape turned surreal as it rose, playing back something that seemed distinctly familiar. It was her parent’s house, wasn’t it? That was her, on the floor. She was just a foal, but she was…

“Me taking my first steps? It’s a memory?” Twilight nodded.

“They’re all memories. Or moments, when you couldn’t be in a position to remember them. All of them.”

“All of them?”

Peritwinkle threw his hooves up again, another orb of light shifting the landscape. Lost teeth, passed tests, sleepless nights, lazy summer evenings. They swirled around her in a tapestry of time. But Twilight just frowned, giving him a confused look.

Her father winked in response .“Look in the background, kiddo.”

Twilight squinted, trying to figure out what he meant. Then gasped. It was pretty easy to figure out, once you knew what to look for.

The moon.

In every scene from her life, the moon was there.

The evening moon shining bright as she took her first steps. Her first word (“Book!”) proudly announced in front of a warm winter fire, the window curtains behind her drawn back to display a sparkling crescent moon smiling down at her.

Studying for her entrance exam by moonlight.

Sleeping softly in a castle, bathed in a lunar glow.

“C-could…” Twilight began to choke up. “Could she see me?”

“Always. You think she doesn’t know you. But she does. Every night, she watched you. And she’s not the only pony.”

More scenes flew through his hooves. Twilight Velvet rocking a foal in her forelegs, humming a lullaby as best she could through joyful tears. Twilight opening a present containing her first encyclopedia on Hearth’s Warming. Her father pointing out constellations in a telescope as she gasped at each adjustment. Her and her brother, flying kites.

“Velvet and Night Light never told you you weren’t their daughter, because you are their daughter.”

Celestia helping her up the high steps of Canterlot Castle. Celestia comforting her, her first terrifying night there, the first time away from her parents. The joy in the Princess’ eyes when a lesson would click, tears of joy as she read her letters from Ponyville.

Damned if there weren’t tears in her eyes too.

“You’ve always had family. They’ve never lied about that.”

Twilight was sobbing, weeping, eyes wide as every scene swirled around them, the small stallion at the center, moving them around like he was juggling them.

“Your mothers, both of them, love you. Your fathers, both of them, adore you. You’re not stuck, not in the least. Whatever comes, you can move forward.”

Twilight’s sniffled. “I think I’ve burned too many bridges for that. I’ve never seen Pinkie that upset before.”

“Oh-ho, Pinkie eh,” Peritwinkle gave her a knowing smirk. “After all that, Pinkie Pie, who I’ve heard so much about, is the first pony you’re concerned about, is it?”

“D-dad!” Twilight blushed, both at the accusation and how easily she used the title.

“I’ve waited a thousand years to meet you, little star. That makes me more than entitled and long overdue to embarrass you about your romantic pursuits. I’d be a poor excuse for a father otherwise.”

“I guess…” Twilight cast her head downwards. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Maybe I did, but I said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have said. What could I even say to her at this point?”

“A Fool knows a Fool, sweetheart,” Periwinkle tossed another rock across the lake, which kept skipping and skipping until it was lost beyond the lunar horizon. “And what a Fool cares about more than anything is sincerity. Tell her how you feel. Be honest, and you’ll find that bridge you’re crossing wasn’t burned at all.”

“But after everything I said—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“But it should!” she shouted.

“But it won’t, it never will. There are so many ponies in your life that care about you, perhaps more than you realize. Do you think all our hearts are so small that we’d ever stop loving you?”

Twilight began to tear up again. This time, her father pulled her in for a tight hug, managing as best he could to get his forelegs around her.

“When you’re dead like me, you start to realize how precious every moment spent with your loved ones is. Even an hour, even five minutes. But if you don’t forgive, if you don’t trust, you won't be able to spend those moments,” he pulled back, tears in his own eyes. “And it sounds like Pinkie Pie especially is worth forgiving.”

“She makes me laugh,” Twilight admitted, finally.

“Sounds like she's a real keeper.”

“She’s really good at throwing pies. I heard you like that.”

“And she's got good taste! Obviously,” he winked again. “Tell her she’s got my blessing. Not like there isn’t precedent for a Fool and a Princess together. Probably a written rule in some Princess Romance Law manual about that.”

He slapped his hoof to his forehead.

“Fuck me, I almost forgot!”

“Language!”

“Sorry, honey, this is really important. You know where the original royal castle is? The Castle of the Two Sisters, I believe they call it? It was honestly just called The Castle back in my day.”

Twilight nodded.

“Good. Listen closely: there’s something I made for you, a long time ago. I’m going to guess the castle is in ruins, but I paid a heavy sack of bits on my deathbed to have a unicorn spell it up and hide it. Damn thing should be nearly indestructible if it’s still underneath a cobblestone with a P on it in the castle’s organ room.”

“A gift?”

He grinned. “I had managed to finish it before you were born. A bit of a masterpiece, if I say so myself. I’ll let it be a surprise though. Just remember it!”

“I will!”

He nodded, unfinished business finished. “You know, limited time or not, it is good to know that all those essays I wrote are appreciated these days.”

“Pinkie says they consider your comedic groundwork on par with Prancing Bacon.”

“Oh, I hope not. That stallion always smelled weirdly like soap.”

“Wait you— You knew him?” Twilight’s jaw dropped, then she shut her mouth, blushing. “Sorry, that’s probably off topic.”

“Off topic?” Peritwinkle sat down, grinning harder. “Kiddo, after waiting a millennium to meet you, there’s nothing I’d rather do right now then just talk.”

He paused, the dream shifting again. A small bag appeared by his legs. “Well that’s not entirely true. There is something, probably more than anything, that I’ve wanted to do with you.”

“What’s that?”

He reached into the bag, and pulled out a small red rubber ball.

“Want to find out if juggling skills are genetic or not? We can compare notes.”

Author's Note

Alright, we got the final chapter plus the epilogue to go. Probably do those as a single update.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.

17. Make A Plan

Twilight awoke, groggily. Multicolored balls danced in her head, and for some reason her hooves felt sore. Blinking gently, she turned her head over to find both Princesses watching her.

For once, that didn’t make her angry. Instead, she gave a wistful sigh.

“That was him?” Twilight asked.

Luna smiled, tears in her eyes. “A bit more modern in his dialect, but I think he found that hilarious.”

Twilight nodded. Then, without missing a beat, threw herself at the older alicorn, hugging her.

“M-mom!” She cried. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Luna just held her tight, as if she intended to never let go, tears falling onto the smaller pony’s head as her whole body shook with sobs.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, my little star. After a thousand years, I’m just glad to have you back.”

Both of them stood there for what felt like hours, before Twilight finally broke the hug, wiping away her tears.

“Is Pinkie Pie still here? I… I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

“Celestia managed to convince her to stay. Do you want us to take you to her?”

Twilight opened her mouth to say something, then paused.

Be sincere.

Be honest.

Tell her how you feel.

Easier said than done for that last bit.

But before she faced the party music, first thing’s first…

Twilight walked over to Celestia, eyeing her. The princess, her mentor, her aunt, wasn’t wearing any of her usual raiments or gold jewelry. Without them, she somehow looked smaller, sadder.

“Princess Celestia.”

“Twilight,” responded Celestia quietly. “I know you’re— Oh!”

Twilight pulled Celestia in for another hug.

“I don’t blame you,” she said gently. “You were a great teacher, but from now on, I’d rather have an aunt.”

She felt white wings fold around her, felt another set of tears on top of her head. She could feel Celestia sobbing now, as her mentor stroked her back gently.

“Y-you don’t know how happy I was when I saw you in that classroom, Twilight. I’ll always be proud of you, always.”

“Can I call you auntie now?”

Celestia sniffed. “Of c-course you can!”

Twilight looked over at Luna, Celestia followed her gaze, opening up her wings and beckoning.

“This is your family too Luna, get over here.”

With another cry, Luna rushed forward into her sister’s embrace, all three alicorns hugging each other. Twilight tried to think of something to say, but her train of thought had been derailed by the rush of happiness. She let it lie there, she’d send a mental cleanup crew once she got over the high of being held by her aunt and mother.

This time, the good mood didn’t go away.

Twilight stared at the heavy oak doors in front of her. It had taken an hour more than she would have liked, but no matter what her father had said, she still needed to plan. She had established, at least in her head, possible courses of action. Courses that would lead to, with luck, a reconciliation with her best friend.

And past that? Well.

Well.

Well first thing’s first she needed to say how sorry she was. And she was. The apology was the important thing.

Then, after she’d apologized maybe, maybe bring up the idea of going to dinner together. Or seeing a movie, just the two of them. Or staying in and ordering something from the kitchens while they read books. Yeah. That last one felt like the best route to take.

A course charted and a plan of action decided upon, Twilight strode through the doors, and immediately seized up at the sight of the desaturated party pony in front of her.

“Hey Twilie…” Pinkie Pie said weakly. “Are… you doing any better?”

Twilight froze. She had seen this only a few hours before, but with her mind clear, she could process it in full. She had done this to Pinkie. She had drained the cotton and the candy out of the pony she cared most about in the world. The earth pony looked so sad, so colorless.

And her first thought was whether or not Twilight was happy.

And she was still so amazing.

And she needed her color back.

And all those little mental notecards were thrown out the windows of Twilight’s brain as she panicked and did the only thing she could think of. Striding forward, worries over social cues forgotten, she did the one thing she could think of that made any sense and brought her lips to Pinkie Pie’s.

When she finally broke the kiss and pulled back, Pinkie sat there, a look of shock on her face. Then, she began to vibrate a bit, before a splotch of color in her hair appeared with a jump and a kernellike *POP*, followed by another, and another, and soon Pinkie Pie was a veritable movie theater’s worth of pink cotton candy mane-restoring emotions. As the popping died down, the earth pony sat there blinking, until one final *POP* brought her coat back to its glorious pink color.

And left her face bright cherry red.

“You…” She sputtered. “You ki— You and me—”

Twilight’s face went white. “Pinkie… I didn’t mean to—”

Her own sputtering was cut off by a blur as Pinkie tackled her to the ground with a happy cry. She began planting kisses all over the other mare, hugging her tight as tears of joy streamed down her face.

“I knew it! I knew it! I knew you liked me! I like you too!”

“I’m sorry Pinkie!” Twilight sobbed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’ve just been so mad and so lost lately, I thought if maybe I was alone then maybe I could at least figure things out but I… I can’t do that. I need my friends, I need my family. I need you in my life Pinkie. I need you.”

“I need you too! I don’t care about anything else. I want to be there and make you happy and hold you and and—”

“I know. I mean I don’t know. I’m new to all this, Pinkie. Princesshood, you and me. I want it all, but promise me something. Promise me we’ll take it one step a time.”

“Only if we take that step together, always!”

“It’s a deal.”

Both of them got to their hooves, lost in a mutual fit of giggles, each nuzzle or gentle kissing bringing in another round of laughter, until both were spent and breathless. Pinkie rested her head underneath Twilight’s muzzle, fitting in there like a perfect puzzle piece.

“We still have to tell all the others, Twily.”

“I know.”

“And your parents and your BBBFF. Oh and Cadance.”

“I know.”

“Oh, and Spike. He’s probably worried sick. Oh I’ll have to tell my parents and the Cakes and—”

“Pinkie?”

“Sorrrrry. One step at a time, right?”

“If you don’t mind that.”

18. Epilogue

Rays of sunshine filtered through the ruined roof of a ruined castle. It had been some time since either of the two ponies now trudging the ancient halls had visited the Castle of the Two Sisters, but they had been given a mission, and both of them intended to see it through.

But mission or not, it didn’t mean at least one pony couldn’t voice some of her concerns aloud.

“Are you super duper sure about this, Twily? I’d be the first pony to trust prophetic dream ghosts, but I feel like whatever this gift is, it’d be long gone by now. ”

“You’d be the first to trust a dream ghost?” Twilight glanced over at her girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be used to Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie.

She wouldn’t have it any other way. A mere week had passed since they had returned to Ponyville, and it felt like Twilight had finally woken up for the first time in her life. The world seemed a little clearer and a little more colorful.

“Well I mean, if they’re giving instructions that specific, of course I’d go looking. Anypony who goes through that much trouble at least deserves the benefit of the doubt, you know?” She bounced alongside Twilight, looking at the various stained glass windows as they tried to find the ominously named ‘organ room’. “Any idea what it is anyway?”

“Given everything, I’d assume some sort of unpublished treatise or essay on the nature of thermodynamics as it relates to something like say, a rubber chicken or a whoopie cushion. Something rubber, I’m guessing,” Twilight raised an eyebrow coyly. “I thought that’d be obvious.”

“Ohhh I know, I just wanted to know if you were thinking what I was thinking,” she squealed. “Just think Twily! A lost manuscript from Peritwinkle! Ooooo imagine if it’s pie recipes! You know the field of prank pies hasn’t seen a breakthrough in over two hundred years? They’d have to rewrite almost every course on battle clowning at the Royal College! They’d be SO mad! Hehehe!”

Twilight smirked. “I take it that the irony over them not being amused over something dedicated to amusement is what makes it amusing?”

“Exactly! Good wordplay there, Sprinkle,” Pinkie, never one to miss an opportunity to try out her girlfriend’s new pet name, pulled Twilight in close for a proud nuzzle. “I guess those clown lessons are rubbing off on you.”

Twilight returned the nuzzle. “What can I say? A princess can hardly expect to support her new Royal Fool if she hasn’t studied the material in question.”

Her girlfriend gave a whoop of delight at the use of her new title, the silver bells on her juggling bag ringing out a happy melody as Pinkie extricated herself from the nuzzle and bounced around the room with a typical amount of hyperactive joy. Both the bells and bag were, historically, an important symbol of office.

Sure, said office hadn’t been used in a century, but what good was it being a princess if you couldn’t appoint a mare or two? It didn’t break any Princess Rules after all.

“I’m soooo glad you’re getting in touch with the silly part of your family, you know.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be cut out to be a full clown, sweetheart.”

“Yeppers! That’s what you’ve got me for,” she wiggled her rear, listening to the sound of the silvery bells as she did. Even a thousand years later, they jingled gloriously. “But that just means you’ll appreciate all my best material alllll the more! It’s like Grandma Pie always said: ‘if you don’t like sausage after you learn how it’s made, stop eating sausage’.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Grandma Pie made a lot of sausages, did she?”

“Nope! I have no idea where she even learned the idiom!”

And so it went, both mares stepping down the hall as they opted to simply enjoy each other’s presence. Ghostly dream mission or not, the couple were comfortable exploring and trading jokes and banter, until both ponies eventually stumbled upon the room they had been looking for.

To their relief, the organ room held an enormous and overly complex pipe organ, which dominated most of the back wall. Pinkie bounded in ahead of the princess, looking around the cobblestones around them until…

“Yoo hoo! Over here, Twilight!”

Sure enough, most of the stones on the ground looked the same, save one. It was slightly larger than the others around, with a fancy ‘P’ carved into it.

Levitating the rock away with her magic, both ponies peered down. Inside the hole was a small iron box. Despite over a thousand years in the ground, it looked no worse for wear. The sight of it made Twilight begin to tear up again, prompting a pink fluffy hug from her pink fluffy love.

“That’s it,” the princess said. “It’s got to be. He had said that he had had it enchanted to last forever, and there’s not a speck of rust on the box .”

Pinkie nodded in agreement. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight hesitated. “I might… I might end up crying again.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“It’s the final thing your dad left you! That kind of thing would make anypony cry, because it’s supposed to!”

“Right. Just be ready with a hug.”

“Always, I’ve got that title for a reason.”

With a wave of magic, the alicorn delicately lifted off the lid of the box, showing a small leatherbound notebook inside. Even more delicately still, as if it was the most precious thing in the world, she lifted it out of the box and Twilight stared at the cover, then began to laugh, she laughed harder and harder, and tears and sobs soon joined those laughs as she pulled Pinkie in for a tight hug.

“What is it? What is it! Lemmee see!”

Breaking the hug and opting instead to rest her head on her girlfriend’s poof of hair, Twilight’s magic slowly turned the leather bound notebook over, showing the letters that had been printed on the front.

1001 Dad Jokes

Luna agreed: every joke was terrible.

It was a wonderful book.

Author's Note

And close with a rimshot! That's all folks!

Thanks to Trolleytrainer and the Discord for all the various proofreading.