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.