Archonix's scraps and bits

Chapters

Forged in Flame
Scenes from The Greatest of These
Return of the Night (trailer/whatever)
The Greatest of These finale
An approximate translation of a conversation that takes place between a zebra and a pony in a creole.
Marmite Showers
Show and Tell
Serving the Night scrawlings
To Be A Mule (Original Draft)
Adagio Tenerezza (prologue for "Adagio for Wings")
Poco Agitato
Poco Agitato (alternative take)
Dawn (an attempt at a "what if Twilight kept the alicorn magic" fic)
Order
Abandoned sequel to 'Succession'
Luna is a giant I guess (AU)
Caballero (Xenophilia sidefic snippet)
The Doorkeeper (Illusion of Choice 1)
By Which We Are Known (Illusion of Choice 2)
Brynstingr Excerpt 1
Brynstingr Excerpt 2
Demon
Far
Life
Ask
Fizzle
Explicit
Striadon
Such is Life
A random quote
A Random Poem
Horns of the Dilema?
The Model
Guiding Light deleted scene
What is a Princess?
Afterword to the Xenophile's Guide (rejected)
The beginning of all things: A Zebra myth
The Book of Sundering, Chapter 6, verses 12 and 13
Excerpts from Selene Upon the Mount
An inscription on a pedestal
The Student, The Teacher, The Skyward Reacher (TwilightxDerpyxCheerilee; or Cheery Delight)
You
Loop

Forged in Flame

Forged in Flame

Dragons. They lift great jewelled bodies on wings as broad as the horizon, limbs as thick as oaks and hard as stone reaching for a sky that they concede to no other. Heads massive as the great mountain lairs they call home, eyes bright as diamond, teeth sharp as iron, claws that rend cliffs.

Could there be anything more beautiful?

Their breath is fire, their hearts aflame, their minds as bright as the sun behind eyes that sear into your soul, burning dross and fear and will away until all you think is how beautiful they are, how wonderful, how terrible.

And nothing else.

* * *

There were rules.

Never look a dragon in the eye. Always remember your place. Never, ever talk about flying. Rainbow Dash had known the rules ever since she had learned to talk and, in theory, listen but she had not come to truly understand them until much, much later.

The sun was rising in a clear sky as she made her way slowly to the quarry, her hooves and hocks already plastered with the fine, cloying dust that formed the foundation of every miserable moment of her life. Rainbow looked up at the pale blue expanse stretching from horizon to horizon, pretending for just a moment that the talc choking her lungs was a distant memory, flushed away by frosty air and bright cloud as she spun and swooped, free of the surly bonds tugging at her body.

A shadow passed over, flicking across the dusty landscape. Two winged shapes moving lazily across the sky, trailing streamers of smoke and steam as they coasted toward the horizon. Rainbow watched them with unconcealed envy, eyes tracing the slow beat of their wings as they circled the camp, hooting at each other and others on the ground. She lifted her wings, spread them to let the early sun warm them and stood, for a final moment, soaking up a dream that could never be.

She had tried to prove she was worthy to be amongst them, that she was everything they wanted, everything they had needed.

She had tried to fly.

Only one Pegasus in every thousand was chosen to serve in the Imperial guard. One in every thousand granted the freedom of the sky, given the privilege of flight. They had given her a cursory look and rejected her before she could even raise her wings. So she had tried to fly, to prove what they should already know; that she was the best. That she could out fly anyone, yet she had barely left the ground when the first blast of magic had hit her square in the chest, flinging her, spinning, to the floor. A second, more subtle spell had held her down as they pinioned her wings.

Worst of all, it had been her own kind. A pegasus had taken her flight. Another had intoned the justification even as they had left her, bleeding and flailing, and moved on to the next. The rest had nodded their approval at the “justice” of her punishment and, all the while, they had sat in the background, unmoving, not even deigning to turn unblinking eyes to the one they had humiliated so completely, as if to demonstrate how inconsequential she was in their minds.

Rainbow Dash had hated dragons with all her might, but even hate has its limits; the body tires of it. Soon hate had been replaced with a numbing acceptance of her station and a dull resentment of everything that held her there. So she followed the rules and nothing more. Never look a dragon in the eye. Always remember your place. Never think about flying.

Never hope.

Author's Note

Aaand something that I may or may not work on at some point in the near future. It's set, like so many of these stories, at the start of the series, with all the adventure that implies.

Blood is thicker than dragon's flame.

Point of interest: This is actualy the first pone I ever wrote. I thought that was worth mentioning.

Scenes from The Greatest of These

Lanterns burned bright within the pit of Zecora's house, burning against the damp and the cold of Zecora's chosen home, against the never-ending twilight that stalked to everfree forest. She'd never once let those lights go out in all the time she'd lived there, the thick black soot streaked across the ceiling in testament to just how long they had stood. Below and between, Zebrican tribal masks fought for space with dragon scales, Griffon lances, bottled potions and baskets of herbs, and the collected detritus of a dozen or more cultures.

The tree was her refuge, its contents her only connection with a life ended many years ago, in a land she had not seen for far too long - a land likely changed beyond all recognition. Between that departure and her eventual settlement she had wandered the world, seeking respite, trading her wares and carefully avoiding entanglement. She found this place, this pit, beneath the crawling roots of her tree in the land no pony dared enter. She had found solitude. For a while it had been good. It had been what she thought she wanted. Nopony to speak to, none to ask her name, none to slip into her life and out again.

The loneliness had become too much to bear after just a few years. By then she was well known to the locals, who had sighted her many times as she scouted the edges of the forest. They'd never seen a zebra before, certainly not one like her. It had taken the innocence of a filly to break the boundaries of mistrust and fear when she had finally tried to come amongst them. There were days when she wondered if it had been worth the pain. Other days when she knew it must be, otherwise why was she still there?

Zecora idly stirred at the stew bubbling in its cauldron, ever fixed at the centre of her home, letting her thoughts drift in the pungent vapours it threw off. Mostly they drifted to her earlier encounter with Twilight and the almost intoxicating display of power the young unicorn had projected. And earlier still, to her own confusing acts.

The knock at the door came just as she expected, loud and persistent. Zecora briefly considered ignoring it and pretending she wasn't in, but whose purpose would that serve? Not her own. Not anybody's. She dropped the ladle and left the stew to its own devices.

Twilight stood at the door, frustration evident on her face, mirrored by that of her companion Applejack. The pair were worn from their journey through the forest, and from the experience of the last few days. Worn, yet determined. She welcomed them to her home, as she had always welcomed any traveller through these woods since the day she had chosen to end her hermitage, with offers of shelter and food and any comfort she could provide, all in the infernally frustrating patois that was her cursed tongue's only means to speak to the world.

The questions came without preamble, demands of her knowledge, insinuations of complicity (these from Applejack, who hated lies and hated anything that appeared to be one), ending with a desperate plea for help, to which she had no answer.

She wanted to answer. She wanted to speak, to tell them what they wanted to hear, or needed to hear, but her tongue tied itself as it so often had, without reason. Oh, but she could have spoken, given them their answers, but the pain would have destroyed her mind. So she stared at them, he face passive as she had learned to make it when such frustration was upon her. Let them think she was being mystic, she'd always told herself, and they'd take it for cosmic mumbo jumbo.

There was no escape in it this time.

"Curse spoke to curse," her lying tongue relayed. "In endless lonely verse."

"What the hay does that even mean," Applejack yelled She stomped her hoof and turned away, knowing a lie when she heard it. "Yall are just hollerin' away like rhymin' is all there is!"

"But what is reason without rhyme, dear Applejack? Let us not say things we would soon wish to take back."

The response did not go over well. Nor could it. Both mares snorted their disgust at her answer, both ignorant of the depths of her own frustration. Could they understand were she to explain? Could they comprehend what she had done?

"I am cursed too, you foal! Is taunting my pain your only goal?"

Abashed, Applejack looked away, but Twilight's ears perked up in sympathy with her plight. The unicorn drew close, so close she could see the bristle of her fur, so close she could feel her hot breath clouding the air. Zecora shook her mane, rattled her invisible chains.

"I would do anything to be free of the curse that is now binding me."

"Maybe we can help?"

"No help can you provide, it is better that I should have died."

"You have seen the power I possess, perhaps you should take a guess."

"You studied it. You're a mage?"

"Once, a shaman of great power and strength, I have studied magic at great length," Zecora relied. The smile was gone now as she slowly circled Twilight, as if trying to intimidate her, but then she suddenly seemed to lose her will and sat down heavy on the warm grass. "Until I lost all to this curse that brought my fall."

"I thought zebra magic was all about illusion."

"It is about imagination and is no trick, though you can see the truth if your eye is quick. We dabble with a deeper place-- ah, but your face, that glare, why do you stare?"

"I don't know, perhaps some crazy mystic is claiming to overturn everything I thought I knew about how magic operates across species. In rhyme."

Author's Note

Thee two snippets were part of an early draft of The Greatest of These. To be honest I liked the direction this was going better than the story as it turned out. Part of the reason I eventually put it on hiatus was because too much of it was becoming deep nonsense. There was no motivation for Zecora's actions, which this scene would have supplied had it gone on - but at the time I was worried about tipping my hand to certain plot points too soon.

Daft really. One day I'll re-write the whole thing. And I won't use "burned" and "burning" within 10 words of each other this time. :twilightsmile:

Return of the Night (trailer/whatever)

To the sound of Mind Heist...

(TC 00:00:00:00)

OPENING FADE

EXT. NIGHT SKY

PAN LEFT over a starry vista as the moon comes into view.

TWILIGHT (VO)

What was it like, up there?

CUT TO

EXT. GRASSLAND DAY

A pony in a cloak is galloping across a rolling plain. As we pan up we see CANTERLOT on the horizon, glowing in the bright morning light.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Looking down on the world.

CUT TO

EXT. CLOUDSDALE EVENING

A group of pegasi drift lazily toward the city, a vast sprawling metropolis in the clouds.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Isolated for a thousand years.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT DAY

An airship closes on an enormous tower.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Never given the chance to explain your acts.

(TC 00:00:16:00)

Banished by your own sister.

CUT TO

EXT. PONYVILLE DAY

(TC 00:00:18:00)

Ponies are going about their everyday business when something causes them to look toward the horizon behind camera.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Turned into a monster to scare children.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT STREET DAY

A troop of guards push their way through a yelling crowd.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Hated by everyone.

CUT TO

INT. GREAT HALL

Various dignitaries are milling around PRINCESS CELESTIA and TWILIGHT SPARKLE. They look toward the windows as darkness begins to fall.

CUT TO

EXT. SWEET APPLE ACRES

APPLEJACK watches a pegasus fly across the sky as the light begins to fade unnaturally fast. She turns to the horizon, wide-eyed, terrified.

TWILIGHT (VO)

Completely and utterly alone.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT

Above the city, the moon moves inexorably across the face of the sun.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT BALCONY

TWILIGHT SPARKLE watches the moon as it hides the sun. The hint of a smile touches her lips.

TWILIGHT (VO)

What would you do to avoid going back?

CUT TO

EXT. PALACE GARDENS DAY

TWILIGHT SPARKLE and PRINCESS LUNA are seated in a small grassy area. LUNA refuses to meet TWILIGHT'S gaze as she walks away.

CELESTIA (VO)

I'm worried about Luna.

CUT TO

INT. THRONE ROOM

It is dark. PRINCESS LUNA looks up at the throne with a tear in her eye and turns away.

CELESTIA (VO)

She's isolating herself again.

CUT TO

EXT. MOUNTAIN TOP EVENING

TWILIGHT SPARKLE and PRINCESS LUNA are staring down at the lights of Canterlot as the wind whips around their faces. Luna's coat is noticeably darker.

CELESTIA (VO)

You're the only pony she'll even speak to.

CUT TO

EXT. BALCONY

CELESTIA and TWILIGHT SPARKLE are watching a sunrise together.

CELESTIA

I don't want to lose her again, Twilight.

CLOSE IN TWILIGHT SPARKLE

CELESTIA (VO)

I trust you to do what's right.

The young mage nods slowly, showing little emotion.

FADE TO BLACK

(TC 00:00:50:00)

SMASH CUT

INT. THRONE ROOM

The doors are blown off their hinges and a cloud of blue-black smoke pours through.

CUT TO THRONE

GUARDS surround CELESTIA.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT NIGHT

Airships storm through the skies, disgorging thousands of pegasi in black armour.

CUT TO

INT. THRONE ROOM

A hoof crunches on the debris from the door

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT NIGHT

CLOSE UP of pegasi dropping toward the city with their weapons aloft.

CUT TO

INT. THRONE ROOM

CELESTIA watches in shock as a figure emerges from the doorway. It is NIGHTMARE MOON.

(TC 00:01:04:00)

CUT TO EXT. CANTERLOT WALLS

Unicorns release a hail of glowing projectiles up toward the invading pegasi.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT STREET

SHINING ARMOUR leads a small group of guards against the black-armoured pegasi.

CUT TO

EXT. PONYVILLE TOWN HALL EVENING

Celestia's guard prepare to execute LYRA until NIGHTMARE MOON swoops in and snatches her away.

CUT TO

EXT. SWEET APPLE ACRES ORCHARD

APPLEJACK and TWILIGHT SPARKLE face off against one another. TWILIGHT unleashes a bolt of energy that shatters the tree behind APPLEJACK.

(TC 00:01:16:00)

EXT. TOWN SQUARE EVENING

A troop of guards in black armour march into the town square as the ponies watch.

CUT TO

EXT. FIELD DAWN

(TC 00:01:21:00)

FLUTTERSHY looks up at the sky with a determined expression before launching herself skyward.

CUT TO

EXT. FIELD DAY

A cavalry charge smashes head-on into the massed ranks of a much larger army.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT DAY

Explosions rock the city. A tower begins to collapse.

EXT. SKY DAY

A great airship battle takes place. One of the airships collides with another, both still firing their canon.

CUT TO

INT. THRONE ROOM EVENING

CELESTIA and NIGHTMARE MOON clash, Celestia's magic blasting a shockwave that flings back furniture and masonry all around her.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT DAY

TWILIGHT SPARKLE stares up at the bulk of Canterlot Castle as we pan up toward the towers.

CUT TO

EXT. CLOUDSDALE NIGHT

Fire falls from the sky amidst the collapsing towers of the cloud city. Pegasi flee in horror.

CUT TO

EXT. CLOUDSDALE NIGHT

RAINBOW DASH and DERPY fly through the chaos. Both are sporting intricate pegasus armour.

CUT TO

EXT. CANTERLOT BALCONY

NIGHTMARE MOON watches the chaos of the city below. Her face is obviously distressed.

CUT TO

EXT. FIELD

RARITY and APPLEJACK run through tall grass with pegasi in pursuit.

CUT TO

EXT. CLIFF

RAINBOW DASH leaps from the cliff-top moments before a blast of magic destroys the ground she was standing on, her forelegs stretching out to catch APPLE BLOOM as she falls.

CUT TO

EXT. THRONE ROOM NIGHT

(TC 00:01:49:00)

PRINCESS CELESTIA stands before NIGHTMARE MOON. The NIGHTMARE is ensconced on her throne, her mane billowing ominously around her like a black cloud that reaches out toward CELESTIA.

CELESTIA

What have you done to my student, Luna?

NIGHTMARE MOON laughs.

NIGHTMARE MOON

You think I corrupted her? You should know

by now, Sister.

FADE TO

INT. SPOTLIGHT ROOM NIGHT

TWILIGHT SPARKLE sits facing away from the camera. She turns her head slowly with her eyes closed.

NIGHTMARE MOON (VO)

Darkness is born in Twilight.

TWILIGHT SPARKLE opens her eyes, revealing a demonic green glow.

CUT TO BLACK.

Author's Note

Er... yeah, I was broed at the doctor's office and decided it'd be fun to script out a "trailer" for one of the fics I'm working on. Kinda spoils. but at the same time the story would have made Twilight's role pretty obvious from the start.

So would the cover art I would eventually use. Commissions are available by the way.

Yes, it's a screenplay. Actually it's kind of a hybrid given it's rare for soundtrack timecodes and such to appear in the screenplay proper. I'm thinking I might run off an animatic of it at some point. Maybe convince some people to voice bits if I'm really keen on the idea. Could be quite epic. :twilightsmile:

The Greatest of These finale

This one requires a little explanation up front. It was the first scene I wrote for The Greatest Of These, arguably the entire reason tie fic existed in the first place, but it just wasn't quite enough to pull me forward in the end. At this point it's clear TGOT is never going to be completed in its current form which is a shame, as the basic concept was sound even if the execution left a lot to be desired. Characterisation was ropey, motivations were unusual, the idiot ball was handed about with alacrity and the central premise of the story wasn't even met before I ran out of steam.

I added too many plot elements and got bogged down in them. One day I might reveal a few in a blog or as another scrap. For now though, enjoy the somewhat dubiously crafted finale of The Greatest Of These.

And when you get to the end, listen to this, and imagine a dragon disappearing into the sunset.

Fire. Endless, eternal, all-consuming fire. It had driven her from her home, from her friends, almost taken her very soul. In its wake nothing but regret, longing, death and destruction. Rarity watched the flames of her little fire curl up and around each other, rising into the still night outside her new – old – home, her deep mountainous refuge and wondered, not for the first time, why she kept it going.

Luna's moon peered at her over the horizon, gibbous and...close, as if it were watching over her. Of course that was silly. Would Luna move the entire moon just to keep an eye on a single, lonely creature in the middle of nowhere? What a marvellous thought.

You're thinking like a little filly again, she chided herself. Filly. What did dragons call their young? She would feel silly to tell herself she was acting like an egg, though she felt as broken as eggshell.

A claw flicked at the fire, sending a flare of sparks into the night sky and raising the light in her little cave clearing enough to reveal a figure standing a short distance away. Rarity stared at the silent watcher for a moment, then turned away to break another branch from a nearby tree.

"You may want to come a little closer to the cave," Rarity said. She carefully pressed the branch into her fire, turning it this way and that until it fit a pattern she couldn't even discern. "For some reason the smoke likes to flow away from it. Perhaps it's scared of me," she added, a wry smile gracing her features.

The figure nodded assent and moved around the fire to a point just far enough to avoid Rarity's claws. They remained silent for now, watching the fire, enjoying the heat in their own ways. It was... companionable. The thought drew a chuckle from Rarity, though the accompanying puff of hot, steamy smoke caused her companion to step back in alarm.

"Excuse me darling, where are my manners?" Rarity drew back her head, jaw spread wide, and let out a barking cough. She felt something shift within her, sacs and valves drawing tight as her flame was temporarily extinguished. "There, all safe. It would be a shame for the first official Equestrian Outcasts's Convention to end so explosively, wouldn't it, Zecora?"

The zebra lowered her hood and resumed her spot by the fire, though she still gave Rarity the occasional wary look. She wasn't sure. Not quite sure that Rarity was entirely benign, not quite sure she'd survive the encounter and Celestia knew she had reason to be unsure about it. Yet, she'd come anyway. Rarity felt herself quite touched. She let herself show another tight smile, this time not letting her fangs hide themselves. Strangely, far from causing worry, this display seemed to put Zecora more at ease, as if the lack of hiding conveyed some kind of comfort. She settled down on her belly and smiled back, the first smile Rarity had seen on this peculiar mystic's face in a long, long time.

Must be a zebra thing. Rarity returned to idly flicking at her fire with an outstretched claw and watched a fresh cloud of sparks twist between her fingers. What she wouldn't have given for a cloth that even slightly resembled those embers, once upon a time. She could already imagine the spangled designs she could have created, the combinations of fire and light and darkness. It would have been sensational.

Zecora spoke.

"Why... do you maintain this fire, here upon your lonely spire?"

The question pulled Rarity from her reverie. She peered over her shoulder at the bulky mountain behind her whilst she considered how interesting the hesitance in Zecora's voice was.

"Hardly a spire, darling. It's barely even got a treeline."

Zecora followed Rarity's gaze and then seemed about to say something until she shook her head. Anypony else would have fallen for the easy distraction and spent the night arguing about geography. Not Zecora. She knew silence was the best interrogator.

"Comfort," Rarity said finally. She stirred the flames with a claw, their heat licking harmlessly over her scaled skin. "Fire burns and destroys, but a controlled fire is so... so civilised. It reminds me that, despite my looks, I'm not just some mindless, destructive force of nature, that I'm still..."

Still what. Pony? Rarity could cling to illusions with the best of them – after all, wasn't illusion half the art of dressmaking? But it was difficult to pretend you were still a pony when you were a good thirty very long paces from snout to tail, covered in scales, and had a tendency to hoard jewels; though that last, Rarity had to admit, wasn't much of a change. She laid her hands flat on the ground and huffed, staring at the length of her viciously sharp claws.

"It reminds me that I'm still Rarity," she finished. Zecora turned her deep eyes on Rarity and smiled again. Warmer this time, more open, but only for a moment before the studiously neutral Zecora returned. "And at this moment it would appear that being Rarity is all I have."

"Rarity, I have wronged you, but there is nothing I can..." She looked up at the stars, as if steeling herself for some action. Rarity tried to say something comforting but Zecora suddenly turned to her. Pain filled her eyes.

"Zecora?"

"I must speak..." She flinched away from a pain somewhere deep within. "Infernal rhymes convey no truth! I... My life has been endless lies, endless... I must speak reality!"

The poor zebra seemed to curl in on herself, shivering with effort and pain, but she still managed to fix her eyes on Rarity. Flanks foaming, head jerking rhythmically, Zecora continued to speak.

"Rarity... you gave me more than friendship. More than love. You, Twilight, all your friends gave me trust. You gave me what nopony would–" Zecora breathed in through gritted teeth, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her voice rose to a wail. "I betrayed you! I saw... I saw my selfish ends... I saw the end of my curse in you, Rarity, and so I-I lied... to Twilight. To you. I wanted to be free but what is freedom when trust is gone? I wanted to be free of the pain, free of this endless life, free of this cold wet swamp of a land!"

Back arched, eyes rolling, Zecora let out an agonised scream. Yet somehow she was able to drag herself to her feet, almost as if she was using the pain to drive her body forward. She tottered toward Rarity but collapsed after a few drunken steps.

"Forgive me, my friend. Forgive me... let it end."

With the use of a rhyme Zecora's pain seemed to ease. She let out a relieved sob and then a long, mournful sigh. Rarity looked down on her... friend? Confidant? Betrayer? She wasn't sure any more, but Zecora's willingness to endure such torment said a lot about the trust she believed Rarity had placed in her. The trust she wanted back. With great care, Rarity wrapped her claws around Zecora's prone form. She gently placed Zecora on the ground near the fire, then laid her neck down next to the zebra, one arm cradling her body.

In her deepest heart, Rarity had always expected this to be her and Spike on day. Spike would be a great and powerful dragon, Rarity would be old and content and together they'd lie on a stash of jewels and just... be. It was an image she associated with trust and companionship. She hoped Zecora would see it the same way.

Some time later, with the moon now well overhead, Rarity realised she had been sleeping. Zecora was still by her side, but now stretched out with her back to Rarity's neck, enjoying the warmth. She was smiling.

Rarity knew something had woken her. She didn't seem to sleep, not truly sleep in the way she recalled, but merely slumbered in a sort of doze that let her be instantly awake at the slightest sound. In this case the sound of hoofbeats, moving quietly around the edge of the light cast by her dying fire, their cause invisible to her barely-open eyes. The interloper paused and Rarity was suddenly aware of a pair of bright, glowing eyes peering at her from the gloom. She shifted her head and opened one eye to return the stare. Of course...

"A beautiful night, Princess Luna," Rarity said, opening her other eye. Luna stepped into the dim patch of light and inclined her head in thanks to Rarity.

"Thou hast found thyself a friend," the Princess replied. Rarity thought for a moment.

"Yes."

Luna smiled her private little smile, the one Rarity had seen her use so often when Twilight was around. She levitated a small stick and poked at the fire to rouse it, then turned to consider Zecora again.

"We heard thy conversation for some time. This zebra confesses betrayal, yet..." She stared into the fire, head tilted. When she spoke again her voice was gentle, the normal royal timbre absent. "We know all too well the pain she bears. Thou hast shown mercy far greater than others."

"Forgive my prying, Princess–"

"We are no longer thy Princess, Rarity. Thou art our subject no more."

Rarity abruptly raised her head, tumbling poor Zecora out of her comfortable little cranny. The zebra snorted and peered around like a newborn foal as she tried to understand what had happened, only to freeze in place when she saw Luna.

"Hello," Luna said.

"Princess." Slowly, unsteadily, again putting Rarity in mind of a foal, Zecora stepped around the fire until she occupied a spot roughly between the dragon and the princess. She looked back and forth between the pair as she laid herself down. Her ears flicked and she allowed a brief smile. "The outcasts convention. Yes..."

Luna's boisterous laugh tore through the valley, accompanied by Zecora's quiet chuckling. Even Rarity could see the humour in the situation. Soon, though, the last echo of their mirth had died away and they were left with the silence of a perfect night and the crackling of the fire. She should be content, yet contentment seemed further than it ever had been in Rarity's life. She shuffled her legs, as if that would sate her unease.

"Pri... Luna. May I call you Luna?" The princess inclined her head, the royal way of giving permission that Rarity still found so refined. "Very well. If I am indeed no longer your subject... what am I?"

Luna shuffled her wings as if trying to dislodge something from their feathers. The motion set Rarity's own wings itching for a moment but she dared not to move them. "In truth, we are not sure. We believed you to be dragon, over whom we exercise some authority, but we see you are not. You are kin to dragons, yet you possess magic far beyond the powers of their race. Kin to ponies, yet you consume..."

Luna seemed to try a few words out in her mouth but they were all evidently distasteful. Rarity understood and almost felt glad that her Princess – she could never be anything else, whatever Luna insisted – found the idea so gauche.

"We are unsure," Luna repeated. She stood, suddenly, wings held aloft. "You are new. You are beyond our experience, and we have experienced a great deal in our time on this world. It would not surprise us to learn that we are, in some way, some manner of our birth, kindred."

Rarity and Zecora shared a look, and she wondered if she should tell the Princess what had transpired. Perhaps not or, at least, not yet.

Luna's quiet pacing quickly captured Rarity's attention, for many more reasons than she preferred to acknowledge. The realisation she was being watched seemed to give Luna pause. She folded her wings back and turned to face Rarity once again, her face a carefully constructed mask over a flurry of conflicting emotions.

"Then I suppose this makes one decision easier..." Rarity looked away to the far end of the valley. This was all getting too much.

Luna nodded. "Shall I convey any message to your friends?"

"My friends... are perhaps more forgiving than I would be," she said, giving Zecora a quick glance. The zebra was watching the exchange with rapt attention. Rarity closed her eyes and took a breath. "But I don't... I couldn't ask that of them."

She felt a soft caress at the nape of her neck, at turns familiar and alien. Rarity opened her eyes to find Luna leaning close to her face, her wing outstretched in a futile attempt to wrap Rarity in a hug. A hot tear squeezed out of Rarity's eye, which Luna carefully wiped away with her other wing.

"Thank you."

The Princess of the Moon nodded again and withdrew to her place on the far side of the fire. She glanced up at the stars and lifted her wings.

"We must leave you now, Rarity, but we shall meet again," she said. A smile crept to her lips. "One day."

She leapt. Her mane stretched out to fill the sky and faded until there were only stars. She was gone. Rarity thought about calling her back, longed to call her back, to have her explain... but it was too late. Too late. She rested her chin on one of her forepaws and used the other to flick at the fire, the same idle pursuit that felt as if it had started the whole conversation.

Something tickled at her ear. Zecora was nuzzling just behind Rarity's chin and her breath just managed to catch the sensitive tendrils above. Rarity turned a single eye to the zebra and tried to let it smile.

"Zecora, would you like to share my fire a while longer?"

Zecora nodded, almost shyly, and nestled down beside Rarity's neck. The familiarity of her act would have shocked Rarity just a scant few days ago but now, when she had lost so much, it was comfort. For that moment, Rarity was content.

* * *

Mist burned as the sun rose over the head of the mountain, white ribbons like sheer silk lacework spun across the primordial forest that lined the valley Rarity had called home for so many weeks. She basked in the early morning light, wings outstretched, her body warming to the day ahead, to the long journey she would soon undertake. Rarity closed her eyes to the light and the pale, dawning sky and tried to ignore the burning heat of tears that hissed and boiled away to insubstantial steam as they touched her cheeks.

She remained that way for some time. Waiting. Not waiting for anything in particular, except for the moment she knew was coming, when she would take to the sky and leave her mountain home for the final time.

Cherished memories rolled across the eye of her mind. Adventures with companions, journeys to distant places. Her greatest masterpieces. The day her sister had spoken her first word. The sound of her friends arguing on the path to–

Rarity lowered her head slightly and let her eyes open just a crack. She sighed, her breath a hot, near-invisible cloud of steam and smoke in the still-cool air. Arrayed on the path to her lair stood every one of her closest friends, Twilight and Spike at their head. Rarity suppressed a smile. The little dragon had grown impressively in just a few weeks and even sported little stubby wings, which meant he had his mind on one very particular thing. In dragon terms, flattery in its purest form.

But she wasn't a dragon in the truest sense of the word. Not that it would change Spike's mind, but he'd have to learn, to understand...

Their approach had slowed, as if they were waiting for some sort of reaction. To put them at their ease Rarity lowered her wings and opened her eyes, before adopting a more poised and regal stance. The move seemed to put a smile on Spike and Twilight's lips. Still got it, Rarity mused.

"Twilight Sparkle, Spike. Everyone... to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Spike carefully shuffled from Twilight's back, to the unicorn's obvious relief. He looked up at her with awe, unmoving, and if he'd planned on saying anything it was obvious he'd never do it now. Twilight seemed to shrug with her eyes and stepped forward.

"We heard... that is, there's been rumours that you're... well..."

"Land sakes, spit it out, Twi!" Applejack trotted forward and glared up at Rarity. "We all heard talk you're gonna leave us all and fly away an' never come back!"

Rarity tilted her head. Zecora must have let something slip... no. There was no accident to this. She had acted selflessly, knowing Rarity could never have brought herself to return to Ponyville and knowing that her friends would want to say goodbye. Rarity lowered her eyes and nodded.

"It's true, I do have to leave. Today, in fact."

"But, um... but why?" This from Fluttershy, timid as ever, yet doing her best to fight it and, as Rarity had come to expect, winning. "There are no dragon migrations for months and no competitors in your territory, and it's not a mating year eith–" Her face suddenly turned bright red. Fluttershy clamped both hooves over her mouth. "I mean, ohh, I'm sorry, that just slipped out, I never meant..."

Fluttershy's stumbled apology faded away to a few incoherent squeaks. Rarity tried to put on her most sympathetic look but that seemed to just scare the poor little pegasus even more. Instead, she looked away. Rainbow Dash stepped forward with her wings raised, as if ready to defend Fluttershy in battle. Anger and disbelief mixed in her eyes as she fought for something to say.

"Why?"

"It's difficult, darling, but I'll try and explain. For some time now I've experienced a strange anticipation, something like the sensation I used to feel when I was near a big stash of jewels, and over the last few days it's grown tremendously. Every morning I've found it harder and harder to stay, harder to feel as if I even belong here and now I feel an almost unquenchable longing, some sort of innate desire to seek out... to seek..." Rarity lowered herself to the ground, resting her head on a large rock so she could be at the same level as her friends. As they gathered round it felt almost as if she were the old Rarity again. "There are others like me, out there. I can feel their call and I find I have no choice but to try and seek them out, to join with them. It's almost as if... as if, together, we might bring a greater harmony to the world.

"Besides," she added with great feeling. "I can hardly appear on the Canterlot fashion circuit now. A dragon in the fashion industry? I'd be a laughing stock. Or worse, an ephemeral novelty!"

Pinkie Pie burst out laughing. There were a few nervous chuckles from the others that faded away after scant moments. They were all looking at her with varying degrees of sadness and worry, as if she'd just told them she was dying. Perhaps, in a sense, she had.

"Rarity, you can't–"

"Twilight, you are one of my closest friends so please believe me when I say that I would never leave you if I felt I had a choice. All of you have made my life complete for so long and saved it so many times."

"But the Elements..."

"I can't do anything about that, Twilight. Either I'm replaced, and there isn't a problem or..." She let the thought linger. Refusing to give in to tears just yet, Rarity turned her eyes towards her two pegasus companions. "I'll miss our times at the spa together, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash, I'll miss... you."

Rarity lifted her head and looked along the group until her eyes settled on her sister. "Sweetie Belle, I have always admired your determination and your courage. Remember you are strong and you define who you are and what you will do with your life, not some some petty talk from brainless rich fillies who should know better. Also you have to take care of Opalescence for me."

Sweetie Belle's jaw dropped but Rarity had moved on before she could reply.

"Applejack..."

The earth pony smiled just a little and dropped her eyes. She seemed unable to speak but, with some difficulty and much twisting of her hat between her forelegs, managed to squeeze out a few words. "Ah'm gonna miss you, Rarity..."

Rarity tried to respond but the pain in Applejack's face was too much to bear. Instead she smiled gently and turned to the rest of her friends.

"Pinkie, you of all ponies have always reminded me how to laugh at myself."

Pinkie Pie sniffled and let out a single great, bawling sob. She forced a smile onto her face and gave Rarity a sudden hug. Rarity tenderly stroked Pinkie's mane with an outstretched claw.

"Thank you. I promise I'll return one day. I owe you all that much. And Spike?" She stretched out a slender arm towards the young dragon and ushered him closer. "A word please."

"I'm ready to–"

"I can't take you with me, Spike."

Spike's face fell. "But... but I thought..."

"You're too young, you still have a lot to learn before you're ready to face the world without your friends, which you'll have to do if you want to find me." Rarity leaned a little closer and touched the tip of her nose to his. "I'll be waiting."

She sat back and looked over her friends, no longer trying to hide the tears in her eyes. Then, with a sudden, riotous laugh Rarity leapt into the air, wings pounding against the gravity could no longer hold her down. "Catch me if you can!"

The others looked up at her with a mix of awe and terror and Rarity felt, she hoped not for the last time, the thrill of admiration that she assumed only the Princess herself might feel. Rarity hooted, untrammelled her limbs and flung herself into the bright, open sky with two, three beats of her powerful wings, before settling into a glide that would take in the whole valley.

Behind her Pinkie Pie's voice carried on the wind.

"–and she's gonna have so many adventures and meet lots of new friends, and then ooh maybe she'll bring all her new friends back to Ponyville and well have a great big celebration because then we'll all have new friends and they'll all go to Canterlot and meet the princess and we can have another gala and won't that be incredible?!"

The joyful timbre in Pinkie's voice was unmistakeable. It was as if she really believed everything she said. Well, Rarity thought with a blaze of cheer in her heart. I'll just have to make it happen.

A slash of rainbow light buzzed her. Rainbow Dash looped in suddenly, curling around Rarity's neck and body twice and coasting for a moment beside Rarity's head. They shared a final look and then the pegasus was gone, diving away toward the valley floor. Rarity clawed after greater height as a thunderous boom echoed down the valley and then watched the rim of the shockwave scoot past beneath her, bending the trees to its colourful might, before setting her eyes to the sun.

* * *

Rainbow Dash floated back down to the small gathering of ponies on the now otherwise deserted mountainside and alighted between them. She looked over her shoulder, as much to hide the wetness on her face as to watch Rarity's departure.

"No more cool awesome gowns," she sighed.

"Or fashion parties," Pinkie added.

"No more hooficures," Fluttershy whispered.

"I don't know about that," Rainbow responded. She lifted a hoof to her face and examined it carefully. "I think maybe I should take a little more care of my appearance, now I don't have anyone doing it for me."

Silence fell and, together, they watched Rarity's slender silhouette until it was swallowed by the sun. One by one, the truncated group turned away for the long, lonely journey home until only Spike remained, seated on a rock, staring at the endless sky. He shuffled his feet, now smiling, now rubbing the tip of his snout, until Twilight returned to find him.

"Are you going to stay here all day, Spike? We've got a library to run you know."

"I know. I wanted to be alone for a while."

Twilight smiled a knowing smile. "Remember, right before she disappeared, I said I'd bring you something from Rarity?"

"I remember."

Twilight's horn glowed. Without a word she brought forth from within Rarity's den a glittering heart-shaped ruby twisted up in a thick lock of deep, purple hair. Spike caught the gifts out of the air as Twilight's levitation spell faded. He stared at them, recognition dawning. Then he touched his cheek and smiled.

An approximate translation of a conversation that takes place between a zebra and a pony in a creole.

"Oh, more times than you could count, for as long as I can remember," Star said. For a moment she was back on the plains, swishing through long grass up to her belly as she trailed behind a nomad herd. "Long enough to learn the 'grassy natta' anyway"

"Grassy natta!" Zecora's jaw flexed and a grin spread across her face at the familiar sound of the plains creole. She leaned toward Star a little more as she replied, waving a hoof at Twilight and kicking up her chin. "Your filly didn't tell me you spoke that. She didn't say much else either come to think of it. Have you been to the Marengeti? Did you go out to Impalawi before she was born?"

"Before all those wildcats!" Star bobbed her head toward Twilight and then pointed over her back at the invisible horizon. "I had him after visiting the Mangwa, made a bit of a fool of myself in the back of an Ass's cart in the middle of going somewhere important, so we came home before I ended up having him in the middle of Borundi. Kept throwing up everywhere, I wasn't happy."

Zecora laughed and pounded the table with her hoof. "You're the spitting Celestian monster! I thought it was just dumb donkey stories!"

"I was throwing up all over the place. Anyway, when I had her I also had a bit of a scrap with my herd. I went off to Impalawi right after she was born to a dig recovering some ancient donkey artefacts. Scrolls. It brought me a little fame."

The zebra glanced at Twilight and nodded her head slowly. "Sounds like your sisters and you had a really big fight"

"Like you would not believe," Star replied. She tapped her hooves against the table while she thought of a way off the topic. "So did you follow the donkey migrants over here or what?"

"No I came a different way. I came to Equestria after my work dried up over there also my mother died too." Zecora rolled her glass between her hooves and stared into it. Her expression was unreadable, but that wasn't surprising. Zebra were very good at hiding their emotions when they wanted to. "I wasn't thinking too well and I kind of got myself stuck living in the Everfree after I ran out of money."

"You look like you're making plenty now, did you find some other work?"

"Oh I'm making a fortune! Enough to fix up my old place after next winter wrapup for sure. I've made so many bits selling cheap rubbish. These Celestians..." Zecora tapped the front of her head with her hoof and blew a raspberry. "They're crazy!"

Star burst out laughing. "You say that, but you're the one sat in a mud pit!"

"Better to sit in mud and share friendship than live in finery and let it slip," Zecora replied. Again Star laughed, this time at the solemn tone of Zecora's voice as it delivered so many horseapples. The Zebra's mouth twisted into a smirk as she tugged a bottle from her saddlebag under the table and set it on the table. "Please tell me more of your journeys about my lands, Star Sparkle of Canterlot. Perhaps I know of things and places yet that you do not?"

* * *

"That girl is pretty angry," Zecora said as the door closed behind the pair. "Your daughter is sitting right on the edge of madness." (literally "sitting with the family of madness")

"She gets it from her father."

Author's Note

If you wonder what this is all about...

Marmite Showers

The original reason for setting up this scraps story in the first place and yet I never posted it...

Marmite Showers had a black and yellow mane. It had been a beautiful mane. Lush, shimmering, styled to perfection. The very epitome of the equine coiffure. He had loved that mane. Adored it. Cared for it. Given it his every waking moment.

Had.

Now the black and yellow strands of what had once been his most treasured possession in all the earth littered the ground around his feet. The grass was thick with the bristly remains of his crinière, a million lustrous threads immersed in the sticky brown apocalypse that had flowed forth from the package he had, just moments earlier, attempted to deliver to one Twilight Sparkle.

Her eyes shone blacker than the blackest depths of those shattered jars now slowly sucking the soul from his shaven pate, the remnants of her magic glowing in their inky depths, to be extinguished like the last sputtering embers of Marmite's self-worth.

"I hate that stuff," she said, and slammed the door.

Show and Tell

Originally written as a response to this interesting and potentially useful blog

"– and then right when everything seemed like it couldn't get any worse, Rainbow just up and screamed like a little girl!"

Far from being impressed with Twilight's tale, Rarity shook her head and pressed a hoof to her forehead. "Twilight, my dear, have you ever heard the advice 'show don't tell'? I really do think it applies here."

"I don't... what?"

"Don't tell me she screamed, darling. Bring her on and let her scream!"

Twilight's eyebrows rolled across her face until they formed a perfectly straight line. "Fine." She disappeared in a bright flash, appearing again a moment later with Rainbow Dash at her side. The pegasus had her wings raised and a slight flush on her cheeks.

"Uh..." was all she could say as she shook a few straws of hay loose from her mane. Twilight very deliberately turned her face toward Rarity, raised her eyebrows and carefully kicked Rainbow Dash in the ovaries.

"Much better," Rarity replied as the scream died away. She sipped her tea, closing her eyes as the glorious scent of jasmine wound its way through her nasal cavities and somehow performed magic upon them. "Now, you were saying?"

Serving the Night scrawlings

The Castle of the Royal Pony sisters stood stark above the gloaming Everfree Forest, carried aloft on the naturally fortified hill that had once been the centre of Equestria. Its walls were dark shadows against the night, made to seem darker still by the faint, energetic glow of magic permeating their very stones. Now and then a flash of light would erupt from somewhere within the ancient palace, accompanied by the faint rumble and scrape of stone on stone as great hewn hunks of masonry shifted and stretched through the air.

Six pairs of eyes watched from the edge of the forest clearing, picking out the best route and marvelling at the changes. Already the fragile rope bridge across the gorge was gone, replaced with a shining arch of granite and marble that shone under regimented werelights. Beyond, the castle itself stood taller, its fortifications nearly whole again, centuries of neglect and decay soon to be wiped away as if they had never occurred.

By some unspoken consensus the group retreated back into the depths of the forest, just far enough that only the briefest glimmer of that arcane light would fall on them. They sat in silence, contemplating what they had seen.

It was Rainbow Dash who spoke first.

"There's no way we're getting her out of that."

Four of the others stared at her, shocked, surprised that Rainbow Dash would be so quick to declare the lost cause, though they all felt it. Rainbow didn't back down from her statement either.

"I never thought I'd hear Rainbow Dash admit defeat so quickly," Rarity said, primping at her mane. She glanced toward another flicker of light and shuddered. "Though I can hardly disagree. Whatever is going on in that castle is beyond anything we could hope to prevent."

"But we have the elements, right?" To the casual observer, Pinkie Pie's voice sounded as cheerful as ever, but there was an undercurrent of fear that was completely alien to her normally chipper personality.

"The elements ain't worth jack without Twilight," Applejack replied. She tapped at the torque hugging her neck, setting the little jewel embedded in the front ringing with her hoof.

"So we're just giving up?"

Applejack closed her eyes and shook her head. "I didn't say that. It's just-"

"No."

They turned. Fluttershy had barely spoken since Twilight's disappearance. The already soft-spoken mare had retreated completely inside herself, unwilling to discuss anything but the most trivial of matters. To hear her speak now, even in such a whisper, was unusual enough that it caught all their attention.

"Fluttershy, y'all have seen-"

"We can't leave her, Applejack. She's our friend. Even if we don't have the elements we have to do something."

"I know, an' that's why I want to head back to town and-"

The glare that Fluttershy unleashed on her friend was chilling. She took a step toward the farm pony, her eyes not even blinking as she replied. "She wouldn't abandon us. We can't abandon her."

"I feel I must side with Fluttershy," the last member of their party said. She shuffled her wings, uncertainty radiating from every movement of her bright white body. Princess Celestia moved to Fluttershy's side and gently placed a wing on her back. "Though my power is much diminished, I cannot stand by and let my student suffer so. She means so much to me. To all of us. Whatever th-that... whatever her fate, I would never forgive myself if I didn't try."

"Hey, I'm not sayin' we shouldn't try," Rainbow Dash shot back, her wings flaring defensively. "It just- you've seen that place, it's totally impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible," Celestia replied, though the calm tenor of her voice was betrayed by the continued shivering of her wings. She sat down, the abrupt motion catching the others by surprise, but her eyes were closed and she didn't see their reactions.

The only movement then was Fluttershy as she edged closer to the Princess, one wing tremulously extending to rest on the elder mare's back. Princess Celestia opened her eyes and smiled down at the pegasus by her side.

She opened her mouth to than Fluttershy, but before she could speak a light flashed at the centre of their group with a roar of thunder, throwing the ponies onto their haunches. Only Celestia was able to resist the shock, but even she had to blink the stars from her eyes.

As they cleared she found herself face to face with the dark image of their foe, the Nightmare herself, her wings held aloft behind a mane that glowed with the dark fires of creation itself. The shadowy image of Luna leered at Celestia as the other ponies groped to their feet. Shorn of her armour she seemed somehow more intimidating.

"Touching, dear sister. Very touching, but Twilight is no longer yours to have."

"Nor yours to steal, Luna." Celestia was unable to hide the disgust in her voice. She turned her face from the monster her sister had once again become and closed her eyes. "Let her go and I might spare you."

"Spare me, save me. You have no idea what you're talking about. You've already lost, Celestia, you just haven't seen it yet." Luna's eyes narrowed as she spoke and a slight smile crept onto her face, but there was no laughter to accompany it this time. "You might find Twilight is not so keen to see you again."

Rainbow Dash leapt into the air and flew up in front of Luna's face, her teeth bared in a vicious scowl. "What have you done to her!"

"Me? Rainbow Dash, you wound me-"

"Now there's an idea! I oughta buck you right into that gorge!" Dash dropped back, raising her legs into a fighting stance, but before she could charge Celestia's magic gripped her body, tugging her roughly to the ground. "What the hay?"

"It would achieve nothing, Rainbow Dash. Luna is not here."

"But I-" Dash's eyes fell to the ground, where Celestia indicated the Night Mare's hooves. Or at least where her hooves should have stood. They faded to nothing some distance above the ground. "I don't get it."

"A projection. She wouldn't risk facing us like this," Celestia said, returning her attention to Luna's face. The image of her sister smirked back. "There are six of us to her one and I was always the superior in close combat."

"Astute as ever," Luna replied, lowering her head in mock salute. She turned and strode a short distance from the group, walking right through Rarity without care of the unicorn's terrified squeak. "Though not entirely correct. I could vanquish you all with a mere thought. I chose not to."

Rainbow Dash popped into the air again, still glaring at the projected image of Luna. "Yeah right, that's why you're hiding away in your castle instead of fighting us right here!"

"In fact, Rainbow Dash, I came this way in order to invite you within. A demonstration of good will. We need not be enemies."

She turned again as she spoke, finally noticing Rarity had been in her path. The unicorn had fallen on her rump again and was standing shakily to her foot once more, but it wasn't fear that made her so jittery. Her eyes were filled with a fury that the others had never seen.

"Good will? You betray our trust, usurp your sister, kidnap our friend and then expect to be able to treat with us as if it was just some sort of- of party game?"

"And I suppose next you'll accuse me of wanting to bring the night forever," she said with a quiet chuckle.

"You must confess there is something of a precedent."

Luna's eyes narrowed, their slitted pupils contracting even tighter. Yet after a moment the anger Rarity had provoked seemed to drain from her and she turned away, lowering her head in a manner more akin to the Luna they had grown used to.

"We need not be enemies," she said again. Quieter this time, as if willing herself to believing it. Another step away and she paused to look at Celestia. "Please, sister. Let me show you."

"Bring me Twilight and I might consider it."

Luna shook her head slowly, the smirk returning. "She is safe and well, Celestia. If you wish to take her home I won't try to resist, but you must come to us."

Her head rose again, taking on the haughty air of Nightmare Moon once more as Luna strode from the little clearing. Her image faded into the darkness between the trees, to the parting echo of her voice.

"I shall await you in the great hall. We shared many secrets in these walls, once. I have one more for you now. Do not tarry. It would not bode well to be late."

And with that she was gone. Celestia turned to the others, trying to hide the uncertainty in her eyes without success. The elements - Twilights friends, and Celestia's too, now - gathered around her, the faces filled with determination and hope. Whatever fears they had expressed before were gone, their spirits galvanised to the single thought of freeing their friend.

There was little to be said. She looked at each in turn, her own confidence growing in each pair of eyes. Even Fluttershy's seemed harder than usual, though she refused to meet the Princess's gaze. Celestia reached out a hoof to gently raise the pegasus's chin.

"Well. Shall we depart anon?"

"I-" Pinkie said before Rarity stuck a hoof over her mouth.

"It means lets go, Pinkie."

"Mmf mmf!"

"Good." Rarity pulled her hoof from Pinkie's face and carefully brushed it against her coat as the rest of her group set off. She trotted behind them, holding her head high and ignoring the strange feeling that something was watching her. It was a feeling she'd always felt in the forest to some degree. If she'd known who was behind it this time she might have been a little more concerned.

A short walk brought them to the foot of the new bridge, a structure even larger up close than it had first appeared from a distance. Celestia hesitated on the threshold of the stonework before gently placing a hoof on it. She pressed hard and let her magic flow into the stone, seeking any possible traps.

"It seems safe," she finally said, not bothering to hide her relief. The others let out their breath and followed the Princess onto the bridge.

It was broad, designed for traffic much greater than a mere few ponies, and reminded Celestia of the great crossing that had girdled the once mighty river now roaring in the depths of the gorge below. She paused near the centre of the span and looked around, remembering the city that had once surrounded their castle, lost to conflict and the ravages of time. Only the protective magic permeating the castle had allowed it to last so long when the rest of the ancient city had been reclaimed by the forest.

"Come, hurry, my little ponies," she said, urging herself toward the palace gates. They stood wide, inviting and open as if waiting for a grand parade instead of the five ponies and their deposed Princess. Celestia refused to let her awe show at how the old stones had been restored and even improved over their original state.

The Great Hall lay at the centre of the old palace gardens, an enormous area once filled with riotous plantlife that Celestia had chosen to maintain in a 'natural' state. Now it was empty save for knee-deep grass that wavered uncertainly in a fitful breeze. The hall itself was a long, squat building, so unlike the graceful architecture of Canterlot, built to withstand a direct armed assault. Its designers had never anticipated it would be torn apart from within by the rage of a spurned and bitter alicorn.

The hall within was dark, but the darkness was split by bright shafts of moonlight spearing down from holes in the still-incomplete roof. A faint mist rolled and crawled across the floor, concealing far too much of the surface for anyone's liking, yet they had no choice but to go on. At the far end Celestia knew a throne had once stood. Two thrones. Once, before all of it, she had shared the rulership equally with Luna - or so she thought. Her sister had seen things differently, as always

The dais was still the same, though it only held one throne rather than the two she had expected. Curled in the seat was Luna herself, transformed again to the Night Mare, her coat as black as shadow and her eyes glowing with power that even Celestia had never before seen in her sister. Those same eyes rolled toward the group as it approached and Luna stood, easing herself slowly from the piled cushions of her throne.

Her armour shone as she stepped through a shaft of light and she paused, just for a moment, letting her antagonists see and understand.

"I thought that armour destroyed," Celestia said, her voice barely audible. Luna bobbed her head and smiled, letting her fangs show.

"We both thought many things that turned out to be otherwise." She raised her wings, spreading them wide and kicking up a skein of mist about herself. The vapour writhed and twisted, settling through the air like a basket of snakes suddenly tossed from a great height. "Shall we speak then, sister? Or are you merely here to claim your prize?"

"I have nothing to say to you, Luna."

"So harsh," the Night Mare replied, pouting. She looked away for a moment. "So untrusting."

Applejack stepped forward and spat on the ground. "Why should any of us trust you?"

"We saved you from this," Rarity added, moving to Applejack's side. She looked into Luna's eyes, seeking some sign of the princess she had once known. "How could you turn back to- to this evil?"

"Were I evil, I would have destroyed you before you reached this place. Did you encounter any traps? Obstacles?"

"Well, I-"

"The road was easy and straight, the forest was quiet and safe!" Luna's wings fell against her sides as she climbed the dais back to her throne. "The land tamed and made whole. I know you feel it, Celestia. Magic courses through this place once again."

She seated herself on the throne and folded her wings. "I know why you chose to left our ancient home to rot. I know the pain it would have caused you to remain here, Celestia, but there is no more reason for that pain. We could return. We could rule together as we once did."

"This creature is her true form," another voice said from the darkness, accompanied by the slow clop of approaching hooves. Celestia's eyes widened in recognition of the voice of her student. She peered into the dark surroundings, trying to spot any motion amongst the pillars. "Something you would have known had Celestia deigned to tell us."

"Twilight?"

"It's me," Twilight replied. Her voice echoed strangely in the darkness, seeming to come from several directions at once. "Your faithful student."

The unicorn remained silent, save for the sound of her hooves striking stone. Celestia turned to face her sister again, fear and doubt growing in her mind as her most favoured student continued her approach. Of the others, only Applejack seemed able to act, her head turning this way and that as she tried to find her friend amongst the dark shadows of the hall.

"Twilight, what's goin' on?"

"Why nothing, Applejack. Nothing at all." Twilight's voice echoed strangely amongst the ancient stonework, obscuring her location. As she continued to walk, the sound of her hooves seemed to come from every direction.

Rarity had quietly joined Applejack and placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder, more for Rarity's own benefit than anything else.

"Darling, the theatrics are all well and good, but we are here to rescue you."

Laughter echoed around the hall. "You think I need rescuing? Oh my friends, you're here to save me from the terrible fate of freedom!"

"Oh Twilight..." Celestia lowered herself to her haunches and bowed her head. "My faithful student, what has she done to you?"

"Luna did nothing to me, Celestia. I saw the truth."

"Twilight, whatever spell she cast on you-" Celestia frowned and turned a curious gaze on Luna. The Night Mare hadn't move or spoken during the entire exchange, a sharp contrast to the last time she had taken this form. It was disconcerting. "You only think you see the truth. Please, Twilight, fight her influence. For your friends. For me."

"There's nothing to fight, Princess. I'm no more Luna's slave than I was yours."

"If you aren't her slave, Twilight, then what?"

"Something you could never allow us to be."

To Celestia's left, Twilight stepped out of the shadows. The faint glow of magic trailed from her eyes - not the dark magic of the north, but neither was it the usual bright power Twilight displayed - and a thick torque straddled her neck and chest, imprinted with the great star of her mark and the crescent of Luna's moon.

"Equal."

Author's Note

Yeah I probably posted this before somewhere.

Don't complain about the use of "Night Mare", she ain't the Nightmare. Just a night mare. Hush.

There are a couple of breaks where bits are missing. Ignore those too.

To Be A Mule (Original Draft)

Where it all began? That's a good question. I could get philosophical and talk about the beginning of understanding, or I could get religious and talk about the old gods making the world and the heavens. Or I could talk about where my species began. Or where Equestria began, forged in the dying flames of a conquered empire...

For me it began just a few weeks ago when I spoke to her for the first time. The one I'd once thought I might have some sort of connection with. She wasn't exactly what you'd call a beauty, not exactly. Very nearly so. A muzzle just a little too squat and cheeks just a little too high to be classically beautiful, but it's the flaws that make the mare, not the perfections. Such beautiful eyes. Her mother's eyes.

If you'd met her mother you'd see this wasn't quite the compliment you might think. She had her mother's temper too, for all that she might want to believe otherwise.

Oh and a horn. Yeah, this dumb mule fell arse over tit for a unicorn. Sure, it wore off eventually; after all there's rules about these things and infatuations that aren't fed do eventually fade away. Nevertheless this mare I had once thought I might love spoke to me a few weeks ago, idly and innocently and with all the curiosity that had first attracted to me to her, to ask a simple question.

"What's it like?"

Her eyes weren't quite focussed on me; she was more than a little drunk, having somehow made her way back to Lachrimose after some big... well lets not beat about the bush. She'd just got married, which was the other reason for that whole infatuation dying off. Married. One of those big society weddings, a whole herd at once. It had been the talk of Canterlot for weeks, for months before the event. I guess the others hadn't really found their way back yet and probably wouldn't for some hours yet, but she always had been one for the library.

That's where I'd found her. I wasn't really supposed to be in there as dad had made abundantly clear, but the old Duke didn't mind as long as I let him know what I'd borrowed and put the books back in the right order when I was done with them. There was a book I was after, some old history book I'd seen out on a garden table a few weeks back but not quite got the whole title of. I knew it was on those shelves somewhere.

"What's what like," I'd answered. This seemed to stump her, as if it should have been obvious what she was talking about, but she bravely soldiered on with a smile and a shake of her head. I suppose little could have put her in bad spirits that day.

"To be a mule," she said, without preamble. I thought about it and you know what? I didn't have any answer. Or at least none that would satisfy her. I think she must have realised right away that the question was a little bit out there because she stumbled through some sort of apology and looked away from me, as if that would be enough to hide the bright glow of her cheeks.

Author's Note

Now this one's interesting to me. It was an early attempt to write the idea that eventually became To Be A Mule, though I abandoned it pretty quickly. Too many of the ideas I wanted to explore weren't fully formed enough, or were on the verge of changing radically when I started, so I ended up putting the concept aside, then re-tooling it for a World Building Alliance write-off, where it became a much better story.

There may or may not be hints of things that other fics of mine are exploring as well. :twilightsmile:

Adagio Tenerezza (prologue for "Adagio for Wings")

Author's Note

Before you begin

This is something I've been muddling at for about six months and have gotten nowhere with. There's a chunk of a next chapter and a bunch of notes, but every time I look at it I just can't quite get the words down on paper. To say the least, it has been an exercise in frustration.

I want to write it - I think it's a cute story - but maybe I'm just not meant to.

Now lets play Guess Tavi's Lover. First prize is Octavia's disdainful glance.

Adagio Tenerezza (prologue for "Adagio for Wings")

Heat was the thing.

Oh not that heat. Not the ravenous week every few months that allegedly left mares swooning in dark corners and icy cellars, and stallions nursing stiff drinks in cold baths and dimly lit bars. So much nonsense anyway, a product of too many cheap romance novels and badly written talkies.

So much language was tied up in heat. Love ran hot. Anger burned. Joy shone like the sun. Lust inflamed passion, and passion consumed like a furnace. Heat spoke to every part of life, from comfort and care, to the dying embers of regret, to the warm comfort of peace and tranquility.

And even when the fires were spent and died down, there came the afterglow.

A trickle of sweat found its way down the side of Octavia's neck, tickling and dancing through her coat as it meandered toward the sheets, before finally losing itself in the line of her mane. She took a breath and could even smell the heat, or at least the result of it; the cloying, bittersweet musk of expended desire. Humid and close.

When she opened her eyes, she found the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. Its light fell across her lower body, adding its warmth to an already warm day that hung at the tail of a summer marked by endless, burning sunlight and sticky, humid nights without precedent in memory. She let her eyes close again and shifted, longing to scratch an itch low down on her back, and her movement disturbed the blanket of feathers draped across her barrel.

She would have been considerably less warm if not for that light grey wing, radiating its heat into the core of her body as if it were a piece the sun itself. A shade darker and it might have been her own – but that was idle fantasy, and if she were honest with herself she much preferred the wing to be where it was.

There had been days when Octavia wondered how she had come to this point. How had she taken this pegasus, or been taken by her? She was of the earth, for all her affectations of refinement and poise. Her bones were the granite of the mountains, her tendons the vines of the forest, her coat the grass of the fields, and her blood flowed with the very fires of the deep places, where the world was made anew. Or so said the old myths.

And this creature beside her? Pegasi were the clouds and the rain, the wind and the sun. Their hearts raced and their bodies burned with frantic energy. They were small and slender little things, compared to her own earth pony frame; even this one, who called herself chubby and ate too many sweets, was light as a flame and delicate as glass between Octavia's hooves. Her lover's body rose and fell with fast, deep breaths, and as it lay across her, it sunk its warmth into Octavia's own, and would warm her forever had she the choice.

For the moment this sweaty, sticky furnace in pony form was all she cared for. Soon that moment would pass, and she would have to rise to go about the remainder of the day, but for now Octavia was content to bask in the shining warmth of her lover's embrace, wrapped in her wings, nuzzled to her neck and snuffling at the ruffled fringe of her blond mane.

The curtains drifted in a breeze that soon found their bed, catching her lover's mane into the air for the briefest of moments, so that it rose like a wave of fire behind her head. Octavia felt her partner's already quick pulse catch and flare as she woke, and sighed quietly.

"How long?"

The voice at Octavia's ear was barely a whisper. She lay still for a while, contemplating the sound of it, and wondering why this pegasus of hers had never thought to join a choir. The question itself merited a short breath before she replied.

"Three hours." Another breath. Octavia closed her eyes and swallowed. "The train leaves Canterlot Central at five."

Her partner didn't reply, but instead tightened the curve of her wing around Octavia's body. As if that would change anything. She found herself burrowing deeper into the warmth, seeking out its core, as if she could somehow soak it all into herself. As if that act alone would let her stay forever in that single burning moment.

Without warning the wing was pulled away as her lover made to leave the bed. Octavia's legs all stretched out at once, grasping and holding as she pulled their bodies close again, and pressed their snouts together. Their lips briefly, tenderly, and her partner fell back into the embrace with a sensuous giggle. Yet still a moment later she made to rise, and this time Octavia held tight, anchoring her own body to the bed and the stone and earth beneath, and tethering this flighty creature in her grasp.

"Don't go," Octavia whispered, and her mouth shook as she spoke. She turned until she could see a single golden iris that stared at her from beneath a shock of blond; the other was still buried in their pillows. "Not yet."

"You've said that all year," her partner murmured. Her eye twisted, and a smile turned on her lips, and this time Octavia could only watch as her lover rolled and stumbled slowly from the bed, to stretch and yawn and flutter her wings.

As a cool breeze flowed over her neck and chest, Octavia nodded and closed her eyes.

"I'll never stop," she whispered.

Poco Agitato

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Poco Agitato (alternative take)

In the corner of the broad living room of her Canterlot home, Octavia stared at a scattering of unmarked music sheets on the desk beneath her hooves with the same disdain she generally reserved for incompetent porters and the lead violinist of the Canterlot Symphony.

Not that she held any particular contempt for Zapato Rojo's skills on the violin, nor for his meteoric rise to the position he occupied -- she could more than appreciate the achievements of a master of the craft for what they were -- rather it was his infuriating habit of talking down to anypony who wasn't lead violinist.

Octavia lifted her hooves from the unwritten symphony. She turned to a folder that lay at the far end of the desk, stuffed and fat as a hibernating beast, and pulled a few sheets from it. This paper was heavy with ink and pencil marks, the music it carried almost crowded out by the notes scratched around it. She didn't need to see the staves -- the notation lived more fully in her mind and her hooves than it ever could on dead paper -- but she stared at them anyway, trying to glean whatever tiny sliver of inspiration had created her first, and so far only work, L'Amante Oscura Della Luna. A critical success, her performance of which had cemented her reputation and guaranteed her place on the CSO for as long as she wanted it. The piece had even gained Octavia a single, treasured audience with Princess Celestia, who had spoken to her of things that had seemed quite opaque at the time, but which made a great deal of sense following the restoration of her sister to the throne.

A quiet hiss of entrained magic whispered around the room, accompanied by the gentle chill of a fresh breeze falling from vents around the ceiling as the (very expensive) unicorn-crafted air conditioner drew cool air from a deep cellar below her home. Octavia tipped her head back to let the cool air caress beneath her throat and chest, before returning to her examination of L'Amante. Somehow a repeat of that success had eluded Octavia. Whatever fleeting muse had spoken to her that one time had refused to return. Perhaps it had shacked up with Rojo instead, or perhaps he had simply used the leverage of his position to get his latest scrawlings played at the Canterlot Summer Sun Festival this year. Perhaps if she had taken up the violin as her main instrument like her cousin, it might have been her in that seat.

With a frustrated sigh, Octavia set her life's work down and turned her attention back to the empty papers. She stared at them for a while, attempting to fit the notes in her head to the bars on the page, but soon found herself lost in the imagined performances of a thousand symphonic fantasies, and decided that perhaps she had spent enough of the day in her tiny tartarus.

"Perhaps, perhaps," she muttered as she turned from the desk.

Dawn (an attempt at a "what if Twilight kept the alicorn magic" fic)

The dawn had been her favourite time.

If ever Luna confessed this fact to another, the first reaction was nearly always surprise. Muted and trammeled as it might be by occasion and reverence for her crown and station, nevertheless every pony she spoke to, when faced with the idea that the Princess of the Night would enjoy the dawn, would widen their eyes and tilt their head just so, and stare at her for the briefest of moments as if they had heard her utter naught but madness.

Then would come the questions. Did she not need to sleep when the sun rose? Was not her role as governess of the night inimicable to enjoyment of other, greater lights? Was she not supposed to find the night more attractive than any other thing?

And then their surprise would grow as they learned that, if Luna ever felt the need to sleep at all, it would be at night, as any other pony, so that her dreams might be closer to the sphere over which she reigned.

And then would come the inevitable question: was her prior madness not brought about by ponies shunning her night to sleep?

The worst aspect of the query was not, as some might imagine, the implication that she might still be mad in some indefinable way, but rather was the mind-numbingly predictable timing of it. Always a silence of a few seconds, followed by an indrawn breath as the querant sought to put words to their thoughts. Then there would be a second silence, and finally the words would spill out.

More often than not she would give some anodyne answer, or smile mysteriously and walk away. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly mischievous, Luna would ask the exact same question at the exact same time and then look at them expectantly, as if waiting for their answer. That usually shut them up.

There was an exception, of course. A single pony who, on learning of her enjoyment of the dawn, had smiled and nodded, and asked her what she liked the most.

They had, one time, watched from the highest reach of Canter Peak as Celestia restored the sun to the world's face. The two of them, alone and unburdened by the expectations of their peers, had lain close and comfortable in the chill twilight and spoken of such things that Luna had never hoped to hear in that age, or in any other to come for a long, long time.

And when the sun's first light had crested the horizon, it found them tangled and exhausted, and they had laughed and sighed as it warmed their sweat-chilled flesh, before turning to face the new day.

But now, as she watched the rising sun and the fading moon, Luna's heart beat cold and heavy in her chest. At her side, Celestia stood serene and still, breathing so slowly and evenly that she might have been a statue, while her lidded eyes watched the brightening sky across the same enigmatic smile she had worn for millennia.

No magic flowed in her body. The sun rose at the behest of another, at the command of the pony who had brought her from the darkness those scant few years ago.

Order

"The great wheel has four points. At its base, chaos, absolute and total. At its height, order, stillness, perfection. In times past, the wheel would turn, and chaos would rise. It would turn again, and order would emerge."

"Like a crystal growing from random interactions?"

"Somewhat."

"But if Discord is chaos and you're order—"

"Twilight, I did not say we are order. Order is... order is that same crystal. It is perfection, but it is unchanging, cold, empty perfection. It is absolute, just as chaos is absolute. I have never met order, or any being incarnating order, and I pray I never shall, for absolute order is as destructive to our existence as absolute chaos."

"Then... what are you?"

"We are harmony. We stand between order and chaos. We are order and chaos. We balance the wheel so that neither one nor the other shall become ascendant. This is what true harmony means, Twilight; to be in between, to be all things. We are each in one another, my sister and I. My light shines upon Luna's face, and the dark of her night is buried within my heart. We are order and chaos in equal amount." Celestia raised her wing and peered under it at Twilight. "Is this the answer you sought?"

Author's Note

Just a little dialogue.

Abandoned sequel to 'Succession'

Little Nickering hadn't changed.

It was the first thing Morning Glory noticed as the Luna's Grace settled down on the village green, in a rush of air that set the grass waving and scattered the white cotton-wool seeds of thistle and dandelion to drift like snow around the ship's windows. She watched them for a while, lost in the familiar sight.

The green was lush and thick with life, while the trees scattered around the village were heavy and full, with the last remnants of spring blooms peeking beneath the bright foliage. Villagers drifted around the periphery and a pavilion of sorts was under construction near the Chapel of the Sisters, in preparation for the solstice. Spring had gone, summer was just around the corner.

"Well now," said a mare behind and to her left. "It must be nice to finally be home after so long."

Morning Glory grunted, barely listening. She stepped closer to the glass to watch a trio of ponies cautiously approach the ship's lowering gangway. The mayor, his wife, and a colt barely older than sixteen who probably represented the Chapel. His bags fair bulged with ledgers and folders stuffed with paper and parchment. Odd to think it was still being used after so long.

"It's like I never left," she said, before turning from the view. Her companion, a Lieutenant of the royal guard, flicked an ear in her direction before nodding slowly.

"A secretary will liaise with the mayor. If you wish to reconsider your escort—"

"No escorts," Morning Glory said. She raised her head, brooking no dissent, the way Twilight always did when she had decided an argument was ended. The Lieutenant nodded again. It was clear she was trying to suppress a smile.

"As you wish, my lady," she said, bowing deeply.

Morning Glory rolled her eyes and stomped past the guard. No matter how long she had to live with it, she didn't think she would ever get used to the bowing and scraping everyone insisted on when they were around her. With a final huff and a snort she abandoned the lounge for the ship's interior.

It was empty, mostly. Unlike the Celestia's Radiance, which nearly never left dock without a significant chunk of the royal household on board, the Luna's Grace carried only its crew and the bare minimum of staff necessary to care for its few passengers. Usually it served as a tender to the Radiance, transporting cargo and the numerous low-ranking functionaries, journalists, soldiers, or whoever else might need to be along for the ride. For this trip it carried Morning Glory, six guardsponies and almost nobody else. The trip was to be as quiet and private as possible. It was a promise she had extracted from Queen Twilight in exchange for unspecified 'favours' that she knew would definitely come back to haunt her one day.

Not that it was possible to be particularly discreet when you landed a four-hundred metre airship in the middle of a village at the height of noon, but at least she'd made the effort.

The mayor and his entourage had already been intercepted by a functionary of some sort and were being ushered down a corridor to the rear of the ship when Morning Glory stepped out onto the gangway. She peered back into the gloomy interior for a moment, then stepped out and down to the ground. When she reached the green her eyes were already on the chapel, and before long she found herself at the threshold of the chapel yard. A pair of wildling apple trees stood each side of the gate. They bore their age well, though the tree on the left was starting to twist and gnarl just a little.

Morning Glory's eyes fell from the still-blossomed apple trees to the yard beyond, and the ranks of stones that filled it in close procession. For a moment she hesitated, with one hoof hovering uncertainly just past the gate, while she fought against the instinctive urge to flare her wings. Running wasn't something she did, not any more. Instead she forced herself forward and walked the path past the stones, ignoring the delicately carved dates and the faint glow of preservation magic that hung around them. Her path took her to the chapel door, and then through to the dimly lit interior.

The circles of seats around the chapel's central pavillion were empty, though a few small candles burned at the feet of the three alicorns that stood in the centre of the building. Morning Glory stared at them as she moved around the periphery, until she stood before the wall roughly opposite Luna, and beneath a relief of the virtue of Honesty. The wall below the relief was covered in sockets, a few still bearing the waxy remnants of votive candles or the tight-rolled scrolls of prayers waiting to be collected at the end of the day. Her magic summoned a slender candle from a nearby shelf, set it in the nearest socket and then lit it, all in a single fluid motion.

Morning Glory looked up at Honesty while the words of the prayers she would have once offered trailed through the back of her mind. How would the pony behind the virtue react, knowing she was expected to guide the conscience of uncountable ponies? She'd probably wonder if they wanted her to cure gout as well.

"Guide my words that I might ever speak true," she murmured, closing her eyes. There was comfort in the words, even if no spirit would ever hear them. "Guide my heart that it stay ever open. Guide my mind that it ever chose the path of virtue."

After a moment of silence, she looked up one last time to Applejack's empty face, then turned from the shrine and back to the Chapel door.

Morning Glory winced as she stepped out into the sun, so bright after the dim interior of the chapel. She looked back and forth until her eyes accustomed to the glare, then cast her gaze over the neatly arranged headstones. The progression of years was obvious as she looked from one end of the cemetery, where the stones had turned a uniform murky brown from exposure to the elements, to the other end, where a patch of bare earth marked a plot laid not more than a few days prior. She wasn't sure what to feel about them. She might never be sure.

With a last glance toward the chapel, Morning Glory turned and trotted back out toward the green. A few steps beyond the trees she upped her pace to a high-kneed jog, before spreading her wings to take to the sky. Few ponies saw her taking flight – the village was mostly deserted, its denizens either locked away in the few workshops lining the road or out in the distant fields to work – but she was sure those that did couldn't fail to recognise her.

Her forelegs clawed at the air as her wings drew her into the sky, raking imaginary divots from the distant ground below. She ignored the instinctive motion, though she'd always found it odd, and focused on the road trailing out of Little Nickering and away to the east. In the distance she could just make out a little brook that emptied into the river, and beyond that the low slopes of a vineyard. A few ponies wandered the vines, barely visible as tiny shadows bobbing up and down between the green rows.

The road led her east and the north, to the peak of a hill overlooking the vineyard, and a plain but sturdy cottage. A yard surrounded it on two sides, and a clapboard shed stood opposite, gleaming in a fresh, bright coat of blue and white paint. Morning Glory dropped down to the road a short distance from the cottage and then stopped and stared along an avenue of tall hedges that marked the final approach to it. She closed her eye and took a breath, and in a few bounding steps she was in the courtyard.

Gritty sand crunched beneath her hooves on the yard's broad paving. She found herself slipping into the shallow path worn by countless years of ponies moving from the gate to the door, from the door to the shed and out to the fields. Paths swept clear by constant use. By the door she leaned down to snuffle at a planter filled with rich herbs: basil, thyme, coriander and mint. She could remember nibbling at the mint when she was a foal.

Morning Glory lifted her face to the door, noting the fractal patterns burned into the doorframe. Hard to believe it had been over a year. She was just raising her hoof to knock when the door swung open, revealing a greying, light-blue unicorn. The mare stopped with one hoof raised. Her magical grip on the door faded as her eyes grew wide. Slowly, she lowered her hoof and placed it on the threshold.

"Mona?"

"Hi mom," said Morning Glory.

Author's Note

Originally intended to be a sequel to Succession, but the plot never panned out. If, or when, I get around to writing more of Succession's 'verse I'll likely harvest this for ideas, but I thought it deserved more than to just sit and moulder on my drive in the meantime.

Luna is a giant I guess (AU)

Twilight dodged instinctively at the ear-tingling whip whip of arrows slicing through the air to her left and right – too far to be real danger, yet still close enough that she swore she could feel the fletches splitting her coat. Another arrow zipped behind Twilight, this time to clatter against the dragon's hips. A fourth thudded into the packs behind her saddle, to the sound of shattering glass. Twilight winced at the noise, wondering which of her expensive navigation aids she had lost. With her current bad luck it would probably be the sextant. She leaned low over Spike's broad back, dropping his reins and instead grasping the thickly ridged clefts of his armoured hide as it rose to meet his neck.

Given his head the dragon surged forward, his wideset limbs hauling at the anaemic grass and winter-dulled heather, while his claws tore deep divots that flew behind him in vast arcs that traced their path so clearly even a blind tortoise would be able to track them. But then, she'd already been found; stealth and care were the least of her problems.

As she clung to Spike's shoulders, Twilight reflected on the strange, icy thrill of her predicament. Fear was something she had never felt, not in any real sense, since her childhood in Canterlot, where the Imperial School of Magic had trained it out of her, and any vestige they had missed had been driven from her inch by inch as she and her brother scaled the goat tracks and scree slopes of the city's mountainous foundation.

Another arrow snatched at her mane, barely missing her horn. Twilight glanced over her shoulder at the bandits pursuing her; there were three, their dun coats glowing eerily in the pale wintry light as they urged their dragon mounts to the edge of endurance. Each had his ears pinned back, though whether in rage or fear or simple exhilaration, Twilight couldn't tell. One let loose another arrow, though his shot flew wide as his mount jinked to dodge a bush of hawthorn in its path.

Twilight had her own bow, strapped to the saddle by her right leg, and for a moment her hands reached for it; but only a moment. She had barely trained with it except to hunt small game – the rabbit she had caught scant hours earlier lay somewhere behind her now, having shaken loose from her pack only moments after these bandits had begun their pursuit. To try and use it now would be suicidal. Instead she leaned closer to Spike again, and jinked at his reins just enough to draw the beast's attention.

A valley sank into the moorland to the east, turning soon after to a steep-walled ravine as the hills rose around it. Twilight had no idea where it led, but neither did she care; escape was the only thought on her mind and the valley seemed to offer it, after a fashion. She tugged again at the reins, bringing Spike's broad head around to the valley. As if reading her mind the dragon reached forward, his gait switching from his usual cross-legged lope to an uncomfortable bounding that threatened to shake Twilight loose. She dropped the reins again and clung desperately top Spike's back as they leaped down into boulder-strewn ravine, Spike launching from one rocky mound to the next in his eagerness to escape.

When she looked back again, Twilight saw her pursuers had slowed, reluctant to drive their beasts as Spike had driven himself. Instead they were picking their way around the heaped moraine, and for moments here and there taking their eyes from her.

Good, she thought, smiling sourly. Uttering a small prayer to the Sun, Twilight hauled at Spike's reins with one hand, whilst raising the other toward the trio of donkeys trailing in her wake. The one closest to her, perhaps their leader, had stopped entirely and was staring at her, anger and fear mixing across his face. He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound Twilight summoned the mass of her power to her horn and stretched her fingers wide. Magic roared from her body, barely controlled energy screeching hollow against the ravine walls in a display that would have earned her a stern lecture about finesse and skill at the School, but which was more than sufficient for her purposes. The magic splashed like liquid sunlight against the cliffs, tearing asunder ancient stone and hurling it down to the valley floor, until the thunder of her magic was matched and then exceeded by the cacophonous tumbling of rock.

Twilight's fingers clamped shut against her palm, silencing her magic. She waited as the last clattering pebbles fell and the dust rose into the silence, and surveyed the towering wall that now crossed the the valley floor.

Smirking, and perhaps a little proud of herself – even though such feelings were supposed to be beneath one of her training – Twilight twitched at Spike's reins, urging him back into a slow walk down ravine.

The sun had been faint even before Twilight entered the valley, but now in its depths, as it wound away to the north, she found the light was almost entirely lost. The cliffs continued to rise on either side, fractured and grey, and riddled in their heights with dark hollows. A few trees overhung the edges, the first she had seen for several days since her trek had entered the Northern Waste. She stared up at them, and up at the sliver of milky white sky, where the moon's thick, grey crescent still hung just over Twilight's shoulder.

After about an hour of their silent trek Spike slowed, shying away from the path ahead, something he had rarely done in all the years Twilight had known him. She urged him on; Spike shuddered and reluctantly pressed forward, grunting and growling his discontent the entire time. Another dozen paces and he stopped again, turning his head and crouching low to the ground. Twilight swore under her breath and whipped at his reins. This time Spike's refusal was accompanied by a spark of fire and a curl of smoke from his nose.

Twilight answered with a grunt of her own, before looking back along the ravine. Nothing moved, nor made a sound. Even the air was still, now she thought to consider it, deadened by a fine mist that had risen unnoticed from the earth to fill the entire valley floor. The valley might as well have been frozen in time. Sighing, Twilight leaned back to stretch her arms and shoulders, wincing at the tension across her back. She leaned over to give a reassuring pat to Spike's head and then slid from her saddle.

Gravel crunched as her hooves hit the ground, sounding unnaturally loud, yet dead and flat.

"What's got into you, Spike?" Twilight sauntered around to Spike's face, running her hand across the thick iron harness wrapped around his snout. "I wouldn't expect this sort of behaviour from my number one ride. There's nothing to be scared of down there and plenty to be scared of back the way we came. Do you want to be turned into some Ass's armour?"

The dragon's only reply was a sullen half-yawn. Smoke still rose from his nostrils, and as Twilight examined him she could see all of the radiator scale on his face and neck clamped tight shut, protecting the vulnerable blood vessels beneath. She turned to look down the valley, but saw nothing.

"Spike, we haven't got time for this." She tugged the reins from Spike's back and gripped them firmly in both hands. "Come on."

Spike snorted another gout of smoke, but with his focus on Twilight it seemed a little easier to get him walking. She backed up a few paces, drawing Spike along by his head; first one step, then another, until he was moving at a steady, if frustratingly slow pace. With that small problem sorted, Twilight turned to continue walking. The mist was thicker now, catching what little light found its way into the ravine and smearing it into a smoked-glass wall just beyond her reach. Twilight was soon compelled to cast a werelight into the air ahead of them. The fitful light cast stark shadows past the ravine's underbrush, but the mist remained obstinately unbreached – if anything, the light only made it seem thicker. After just a few paces, in which Twilight seemingly managed to stumble over every single rock on the valley floor, it was clear that even that light wasn't enough to allow her to travel safely. She stopped and let her shoulders drop.

"This was probably a mistake," she said.

Spike nuzzled at Twilight's back and rumbled what was probably an agreement. She could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and neck, which meant he wasn't nervous anymore. At least there was that small mercy.

"Perhaps if I wait a little while it'll clear up," she murmured, looking this way and that. The valley walls were entirely invisible now; she had even lost sight of the sky. The only saving grace was that her pursuers would have no luck in the mist either – assuming they had even thought to continue the chase.

With one ear cocked back down the ravine, Twilight set about unloading her packs from Spike's back. She winced again at the crunch of shattered glass in the first, before carefully setting it down on the ground. The others soon joined it, and finally Spike's saddle and bridle, which dropped to the floor with a loud clunk. Twilight paused to listen, but no echo returned, which was a little unusual given the shape of the ravine. She should have heard something.

At least staying warm was simple enough, requiring only that Twilight coax Spike to sneeze on a pile of drier underbrush that she had gathered in a rough pile. Before long she found herself staring at the flames, wondering if perhaps it would have been more satisfying to raise the fire with her own magic, or even with the crude bush skills of the Earthers

"On the other hand," she murmured, "it's easier this way."

Spike let out a rumbling sigh and flopped to the ground a short distance from the flames.

"I guess you're right, after all the excitement I do need a rest" said Twilight. She crawled to her packs, regretting yet again the loss of the rabbit. There didn't seem to be any game in the ravine, or nothing she'd be willing to eat just yet. Fortunately she had a few days supply of hardtack and a somewhat sweaty lump of cheese she'd been saving for a special occasion. She wouldn't go wanting, assuming she could find a way out of the place.

Despite her fears the sextant, safe inside its thick hide carrying case, was intact; the arrow had instead found the treasured telescope her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Its brass body had been pierced through and warped by the arrow, shattering the larger of its lenses and knocking the entire eyepiece clean off. For a few moments Twilight held it in her hands, wondering if she might be able to repair it, but even if she had the finesse to bring the parts of the lens together she knew it would never really work again. She tossed the scope back in her pack and discarded the shards of glass into the fire.

"Looks like we're on cheese and crackers," Twilight said to Spike as she laid out her bedroll. The dragon rolled a doleful eye toward her, but remained silent. "And the freshest, finest water this side of—well, wherever we are."

She sat down as her dinner levitated toward her, wrapped in the pale glow of her magic. Twilight set the tack and cheese down on her bed and took a swig from the canteen that had followed close behind.

"Two weeks. You'd think I would have found something by now, unless they really are just a myth." Another swig of water was followed by a crumbling lump of cheese. It had grown a bit of a crust that was sour and sharp on her tongue, but she liked that. "But even myths have some basis in reality, even if it's just weird rock formations or unusually tall—well, that's what a giant is, right? Someone really tall?"

Spike's yawn filled in the other side of a conversation that was mostly taking place inside Twilight's mind. She shook her head. "Yes, I know there's more to it than just being big. And yes I know that there's at least one school that says the word we translate as giant doesn't have anything to do with size either. You'd still think there'd be something up here, some reason why the gods are supposed to live in these wastelands. An ancient city maybe." Twilight glanced around the visible floor of the ravine. "Or at least a ruined castle. Even some old rock carvings would be nice..."

A sigh washed over Twilight; Spike had fallen asleep, curled around the fire like a snake around a lantern. His scales flexed in slow rhythm as he breathed, while his crest leaned subtly toward the flames, glowing pink with blood as he soaked up the warmth. Twilight smiled as she arranged a little more fuel on the fire, followed by a large rock that she dropped into the heart of the flames.

Satisfied that she would at least be warm for a few hours, Twilight settled against the largest of her packs and tugged a blanket across her shoulders. She took out her diary from a pocket inside her tunic and cracked it open, peeking back at the entries from the days before she started her trek. The optimism in her words then seemed so inexplicable to her now; the conviction that she would solve the mystery of the Gods and overturn centuries of dogma...

The fire roared up as the rock at its heart shifted. Normally Twilight would have thought nothing of it – rocks balanced on unstable surfaces would have a tendency to move, after all – but something about the movement caught her attention. Some particular sensation she couldn't quite name. She placed the diary back in her tunic and then leaned toward the dancing flames, watching for anything that seemed out of place.

A sound reached her; subtle, almost imperceptible. The movement at great speed through the air of something ponderous and weighty, followed moments later by a dull thud that sent a flurry of sparks rising from the fire.

Twilight stood up, casting the blanket from her back, and stumbled to Spike's side. He was still fast asleep. She didn't even bother trying to rouse him, for there was little worse than a groggy dragon snapping at your heels every chance he got. Instead she pulled her bow free of the saddle still strapped to his back, stringing it as fast as her shaking fingers could manage.

The ground shuddered gently beneath her hooves.

Author's Note

I was writing this for Pearple Prose, but couldn't think of a way to keep on. It would have progressed to Twilight finding a gigantic Luna wandering around like some sort of leviathan, and after that it probably would have gone on to be some sort of weird fetish fic because why not

Anyway.

Caballero (Xenophilia sidefic snippet)

Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle peered quietly through the door to their living room, their eyes fixed on the couch and the two figures occupying it, wrapped up in a blanket one atop the other, completely oblivious to the world and sleeping peacefully.

"I don't think I've seen anything so sweet since you two told us you were courting," whispered Twilight. She tilted her head, leaning gently against Rainbow's neck.

"That wasn't sweet."

"Sure it wasn't."

Rainbow rolled her eyes and snorted, but she let herself lean back against Twilight all the same. It was comfortable. A thought struck her and then shuffled down her spine to her wings a moment later, sending a thrilled shiver right out to her primaries. "Hey. You think they did it?"

"I really don't know. Lero never expressed an interest in males before..." Twilight leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her chin. If she noticed Rainbow's wing folding across her back she didn't comment on it.

"He's kinda like me," the pegasus said, keeping her voice low to avoid waking the pair. She didn't like saying anything so negative about Lero, but— "Bent. I guess. He's only into mares."

"That wasn't the impression you gave me last night, Dash." Twilight nuzzled at her friend's neck, letting her breath flow out over a sensitive spot just under Rainbow's jaw.

"Twi, I love you because you're you. You're my friend, not some random mare who walked in off the street. It was, what did you call it? Demo... something?"

"Demisexual," Twilight supplied. "Attraction to a single individual rather than a class or group."

"Yeah. That thing. Hey maybe he's like that too! They hang out all the time these days anyway, right?"

"It's possible," Twilight mused. She was up and walking before Rainbow Dash could react, with her head tilted to one side and her eyes fixed on their two mates. Lero lay on his side, one leg draped to the floor and his head resting on the arm of the couch, the other draped over the barrel of a young stallion. Caramel. A relative of Applejack's, though as far as Twilight could tell most of the ponies in Ponyville were related to the Apple family one way or another.

For his part Caramel was sprawled against Lero, almost on his back, with his head lolling against Lero's chest and his forelegs curled neatly over the human's arm. The sight was spoiled somewhat by the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Or perhaps, Twilight thought, it was improved; they looked so cute together.

"I don't think they did," she said finally. Her voice was barely a whisper now, just loud enough for Rainbow to hear if she kept her head lose to Twilight, which might have been part of the plan. "He's still wearing his shorts."

"Oh. Yeah." Rainbow couldn't quite hide the disappointment in her face despite her valiant attempt.

"At least he's comfortable enough to do that much," Twilight continued, a slight grin playing across her features. She sat on her haunches and tugged Rainbow close with her magic, as much as anything to give herself something to lean on as she watched her lover and his new best friend.

After a silent moment Lero's eye cracked open. "Take a picture," he said. "It'll last longer."

"Lyra's fetching her camera right now in fact," Twilight replied with a laugh. She pushed forward against Lero's hand just before the human raised it to rub at his face. HIs fingers pressed against his eyelids, working to rub the sleep out of them.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours."

"Really? Good thing I had the day off." He shifted his body a fraction while his hands twirled idly through the hair on Caramel's chest. The stallion took a deep breath and murmured incomprehensible nonsense, his body relaxing deeper into sleep. Moments later a quiet chuckle escaped Lero's mouth as he realised what he was doing. "This place just sends me crazier and crazier..."

"Are you two..." Twilight waved her hoof uncertainly at the pair. "I mean, Caramel's been over here quite a lot recently and you two seem pretty close. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings."

"You know me, always trying to fit in," replied Lero. He smiled. "He knows I'm... 'bent' as you put it, but I think he mostly sees me as a way to get to you, Twi."

He waved a finger in Twilight's face. The unicorn's eyes widened, flickering between the finger, Lero's face and Caramel's sleeping form. A blush crept onto her cheeks and she quickly looked away. "I never thought of that."

"Your choice I guess." Lero reached out to tweak at Twilight's ear, still smiling. There was a hint of melancholy in the expression though; more than a hint. Even Twilight could see it. Despite that she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"Lero, if you're not comfortable..."

"Oh I'm very comfortable." Lero patted Caramel's barrel. "Like having a big electric blanket."

"What's an electric– you know what," said Twilight, eyeing the little smile on Lero's face and listening to Rainbow Dash sniggering. "Never mind."

Author's Note

Another older one. This is probably up somewhere else, but whatever. New thing. Words. Horse words. Maybe publishing it will make me write again.

The Doorkeeper (Illusion of Choice 1)

"Left or right?"

Luna stared first at one door, then at the other, before fixing a steely gaze on her Celestia, who stood between them with her wings outstretched. Her sister's eyes were wide and solemn, held in the soft but distant expression she would often adopt when pronouncing on matters of court and judgement. Perhaps by this measure she thought to add weight to the nigh preposterous idea that Luna should choose the door by which they might enter the royal dining room, though the smug little smirk tweaking at the corners of her mouth did somewhat ruin the illusion.

"They are each alike, dear sister," Luna said, glancing again at one and then the other door. "Wherefore this insistence that I choose twixt the pair?"

Celestia's quiet mirth faded just a little, but again she twitched one wing and then the other. "Come now Luna, would I ask such a question if I didn't feel your answer was worthwhile?"

"T'is a silly question and I am hungry," Luna shot back. She glared at the door to her left. "Each door is the same as the other. What matter demands I must make the choice this day?"

"Sometimes it's nice to let someone else make the decisions." Celestia lowered her wings, her usual warm smile back in its rightful place once again. She moved to the door on the right. "Last chance."

"Very well, if you must persist in this farce..." Luna eyed Celestia, then the door before her. Perhaps it wasn't just some idea she'd got in her head. Perhaps it was a ruse. Yes! A prank, one predicated on Celestia's belief that Luna was prideful and stubborn. A smile flickered to Luna's face; she stepped smartly to the left. "This one."

She turned a triumphant grin on Celestia, only for it to fade beneath her sister's curious gaze.

"Really?" Celestia raised a hoof to the door, readying to open it, then glanced at Luna again. "I mean, if that's what you want."

"Why would I not? Is my choice incorrect?"

"No!" Celestia lowered her hoof and smiled at Luna. "It's just that I've always been on the right. I thought—"

"I made my choice freely," Luna replied. She flicked her tail and tapped a hoof against the marble-tiled floor. "Are questioning my decision? Did my choice not fit within the requirements of your little scheme, dear sister?"

"My—Luna, I don't know what you think is going on—"

"It matters not!" Luna turned to glare at her door and waited for Celestia's response, yet after a few moments of silence she grew less certain of her own stance. "Unless you wished me to take the other door for some reason?"

"What? No, absolutely not Luna, I'm glad that you're confident enough to choose the same door by which you've always entered our dining room." Celestia's smile was brighter yet when Luna looked toward her again, though there was an unaccustomed glassiness to her eyes. "I find your willingness to retain the continuity of even such a small tradition quite touching."

Luna raised her eyebrow. She could see Celestia's ear quivering. Even a thousand years had not quite given her the ability to master her tells so completely, and the tale this one supplied was more than enough. Celestia wanted her to use the door on the left desperately – and Luna had so very nearly fallen for it. Now she thought back she could detect the subtle manipulations in Celestia's acts and words.

But Luna was no fool. Compressing the sly smile that threatened to slide upon her lips, Luna sidestepped slowly toward Celestia. "I have changed my mind," she said, raising her nose. "I choose the right."

Celestia raised her eyebrow now, before moving reluctantly aside so that Luna might take her place. Luna couldn't hide her grin then.

"I suppose we should enter," Celestia said. Her smile still shone, but tighter now. Without speaking Luna pushed through the door into the dining room, turning to see what would befall Celestia as she—

Icy water crashed over her, followed shortly by the clong of a bucket hitting the floor at her side and shocking a vicious screech out of Luna that echoed from the far walls and shook the windows. At the sound of Celestia's raucous laughter she turned, panting and shuddering, with her fiercest glare ready.

Water dripped from Celestia's mane. She tipped back the bucket on her head and grinned at Luna.

"Gotcha."

By Which We Are Known (Illusion of Choice 2)

Twilight Sparkle stood in the ruined courtyard of the Everfree Castle, staring up at the broken bulk of the old tower in which she and her friends had once found the Elements of Harmony. It was swaying precariously, almost imperceptibly, in the the remnants of a wild storm that had passed over the Everfree Forest the previous night.

Behind her, Luna pasced with regal grace from one side of the courtyard to the other, each step of her silver-shod hooves ringing bright and clear against wet stone.

"It feels but a few days since we last visited this place," she said. Her pace faltered as she turned to Twilight's side.

Twilight shivered as the billowing, star-speckled cloud of Luna's mane fell about her, briefly wrapping her in the illusion of a stargazer's paradise. She looked up at Luna's face, at a cheerful smile so incongruous on the visage of the Nightmare.

She swallowed and turned away. "I feel like I'm dreaming."

"With good reason."

"I guess," Twilight murmured. She looked up at the tower again. "I mean how many times does a pony discover something they thought so fundamental to their life is just an illusion?"

"Change might leave a pony with the belief that they no longer have foundation to their life, Twilight Sparkle, but that is not so. You are still your own self, are you not?"

"Je pense, donc je suis." Twilight smiled briefly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you—that I can, well..." She looked up at Luna. And then down at Luna, who now stood a little shorter than Twilight and was grinning ear to ear in the most literal and frankly disturbing sense.

"There is naught to fear in it," Luna said, though her mouth merely hinged back to let her voice echo forth. "Illusion is fundamental to the nature of our species."

"But you always look like ponies."

"We are ponies!" Luna was back to what Twilight would consider normal again, though her coat was a shade darker. "I have said it. Why would you believe otherwise?"

"You can turn into a cloud and a freaky mouth thing."

"My reputation has long been as a master of illusion," Luna replied. Her ears twitched and were briefly bat wings.

"You told me Celestia likes to spend time as a rock!"

"She feels it emblematic."

"Why?"

"Her position as ruler—"

"No, I mean why didn't she tell me?"

Luna sighed and looked to the sky. "I can only assume that Celestia did not feel it necessary to burden you with truths that would become apparent at their proper time. And before you ask why we hide it at all, consider your own reaction to this revelation."

"Luna, I've lived with a lie my entire life, how did you think I would react?"

"Badly. Which is why I brought you here, lest you break something." Luna turned solemn eyes to Twilight. "And those ponies over which we rule, how different do you feel their reaction would be were they to uncover the truth? Especially in this age?"

Twilight opened her mouth, but her reply petered out before she could make it. She turned, unable to look Luna in the eye. "It shouldn't matter."

"Yet matter it does. Even though we are not what they might fear, even though we choose our form out of compassion and not greed, they would be afraid and they would rebel against us." Luna lifted Twilight's chin with her hoof. She was smiling now. "Our little ponies would not have accepted our guidance had we come unto them in the shape of great fire-breathing beasts or bloated bodies of glowing gas, and so we adopted a shape pleasing to their eyes and maintain it for their comfort. And for my own," she added quietly. "For I must confess a certain fondness for this form."

Twilight couldn't keep her eyes from the ground. She shook her head, lost in thought. "You're saying I could be anything I wanted?"

"Anything, Twilight Sparkle, that your heart desired, you may choose it."

Anything her heart desired. Twilight lifted her wing and stared at it, then past it at her backside. She fluffed her bangs with a hoof and huffed. "Then I choose to look the way I am now. I like this me."

Luna smiled. "As do I, Twilight Sparkle. As do I."

Brynstingr Excerpt 1

Across the city, echoing between the slender towers of Canterlot Palace, between the ancient streets and walls, a lonesome bell sang of mourning.

It had rung for three days, without rest, each sonorous chime sounding the moment the previous had fallen away to silence. Throughout the city, ponies crowded the streets, living out their lives to the sound of shuffling hooves and rumbling carts, but unspeaking except for the barest of necessity.

In silence, Equestria mourned.

Celestia was gone.

None knew how, few knew when, save that four days prior the sun had shaken itself and faltered in its course. Even then it had been only the most observant who had seen it. The next day the city had been flooded with soldiers, veterans in bulky battle armour that clashed with the slender ceremonial wear of the palace guard, and news spread that Cadance had returned from the north, and Twilight from the south.

Rumours rose and spun like whirlwinds; of a coup, of Luna rebelling once more, of Cadance breaking centuries of chastity to take a new consort. Civil wars, invading hordes, political intrigue.

Then, as the sun had reached noon, the announcement had been made. Princess Twilight, bereft of the vivid crimson cloak that had become an icon in its own right, had risen to the throne to announce the dreadful truth.

Princess Celestia, she said, had been taken from the world. The sun would not falter; its care had passed to Luna, and shortly would pass to Cadance. Nothing more of the death was spoken, save that Celestia had not died alone.

The bell had chimed first when Twilight turned her back to the assembled crowds and descended the dais.

Author's Note

This was part of a planned prequel to Succession, one that would have explained some of how the world became what it was.

Brynstingr Excerpt 2

"You took her from me."

Twilight raised her head, snorting ash and dust from her nostril. The dragon, its hide soaked in black blood and ichor and cradling one foreleg across its broad chest, glared at her from atop its broken perch.

"I was your friend once."

The words came unbidden. She hauled at the ground with her good leg, trying to lift herself upright, flapping one wing uselessly for balance. The other hung, broken, at her side.

He shook his head. "You were more, but she was yet more than that," he said, letting his injured arm fall. He stumbled from the perch, his legs barely holding his weight as he dropped to the ground before Twilight. The dragon took a careful step but then faltered and sprawled out on his belly with a thunderous groan.

Blood poured freely from the wounds in his side now, soaking the ash and soil to mud, bitter and black as pitch.

Demon

Light flickered and died in the returning rumble of fading echoes reflected from distant mountain peaks. From her distant vantage, Luna could only watch in horror as her beloved fell from the sky, limbs flailing piteously against the frozen air.

Her wings dug deep as she sought to match Twilight's fall, thrusting with such speed and power that even here immortal frame burned and ached with exertion. The very air itself stood in her way, a near-impassable barrier that stretched and warped like a thing alive. So close. So very close.

Moments before her hooves touched down she had to look away, yet Luna couldn't hide from the sickening crunch that reached her ears. Then the ground shattered beneath Luna's hooves, flinging crystal shards all around. She continued on, collapsing into the earth's welcoming embrace, unable to hold back the wail that escaped her battered body.

When she opened her eyes to the dust-shrouded world, Luna found she had slid to mere inches from Twilight's prone form. Shivering, though she felt no cold, Luna reached out to stroke Twilight's mane and face. She snuffled through the dirt until her tear-tracked muzzle wetted Twilight's cheek. The dust and grime of battle had left the young mare's coat matted and grey; it was impossible to tell where she ended and the piled up dirt began. No breath seemed to flow in her, nor did she appear to move.

So close.

I could bring her back, said a voice, deep inside, that she had been able to ignore all these years. Luna closed her eyes and laughed, though her mirth soon decayed to dust-filled choking as she sucked down on the cloying, filthy air.

"You could not bring her back," she murmured.

And then a deep voice growled: "As if anything would compel me to do so."

The newcomer's words echoed strange and loathsome, a gravelly bass that so suited the shattered air of their battlefield. Luna lifted her eyes across Twilight's still head to watch as a figure coalesced from the twisting smoke and debris. Cloaked in the finery of ages past, moving with predatory stillness, Sombra circled slowly to Luna's right, his sickly-glowing eyes never once straying from her face.

"You are beaten. Surrender, that I might end you with more dignity than this..." Sombra's eyes flickered briefly to Twilight; his mouth twisted into a mockery of humour. "Abomination."

"That you dare speak so—" Luna's response collapsed beneath a renewed fit of coughing. She held her foreleg against her mouth to breath, in the vain hope that it would keep some of the dust from her lungs.

"You are vanquished." Sombra resumed circling the pair, paying them no attention even as Luna struggled to stand. Instead he walked with his eyes to the darkening skies. "Your sister hides away in her palace, the usurper lies broken-winged and hornless at the foot of my throne. The heart is mine. Its power..." he slowed to leer at Luna. "Is mine."

Ignoring him in her turn, Luna crawled across Twilight's body. She could still feel the heat within, the remnant... or perhaps something more. The voice returned, insistent, ringing clear in her mind. I could bring her back!

"Were I to agree, she would not want to come back," Luna replied beneath her breath. Sombra's ear twitched as he passed by, and a moment later he looked toward her again. Luna ignored him still and brought her face down close to Twilight's ear. "Sleep, my love. I pray you are never woken to face forgiving me."

She closed her eyes, and held out a single, empty thought. Silence was all the assent she required.

The shadows had already begun to drift around them when Luna opened her eyes. With her head still lowered, she lifted her gaze to Sombra, who watched her with one eyebrow lifted and a knowing smile upon his face.

"I see old habits die hard."

Luna shook her head. Already she could feel the ephemeral skeleton of a helm upon it. "You see naught but your destruction, King Sombra."

"My destruction? At the hooves of this mewling quim, this weakling brought low by the loss of a disgusting parody of ponykind?" He shook his head in the growing black mist that surrounded them, yet it was impossible to hide the nervous timbre that had entered his voice. "Pathetic."

"You speak ill of a goddess, thief."

Sombra reared back, eyes abruptly aglow with arcane energy. "Thief say you! Watch your tongue, princess! You dare speak so of I who vanquished the gods themselves? I who am the Emperor of Crystal, I am am king of the great spire, I who am the god you shall gladly worship when my work is done!"

Black cloud swirled around the mighty stallion as his hooves crunched against the shattered crystal paving. Sombra looked around, as if noticing for the first time how thick and dense the darkness had become. As the power faded from his eyes he took a step back, staring at Luna, unable to quite push the stupefied expression from his face.

"And yet thief is all you are." Luna stepped away from Twilight, barely even pausing as the black mist crawled up her limbs and clung to her coat like ice. "You who stole the heart of love. You who took from me the one that made me whole, and free, and who contained my madness within her love."

Luna felt cold steel pressing down on her chest and neck as her armour manifested. Behind her, the air flashed with momentary fire, and a familiar magic intruded on her senses. Then it was gone, and she was truly, utterly alone.

"You look upon me well, oh king of glass, and despair in what you see." Luna's eyes opened, but it was no longer just Luna that looked at Sombra through them. He quailed at the sight, shaking his head back and forth, and mouthed unspoken pleas that he knew even then would go unheeded.

She took a step, and her mane billowed out like a cloud. Another and her tail joined it. A third and her body seemed to lose itself in the impenetrable darkness that surrounded them. All that remained was the glow of her eyes and the light of ten thousand stars.

"For I am the great Moon’s wrath," she growled, in a voice that echoed from the frozen depths of time itself. "The Nightmare unending, the vengeance of she who released me from my prison. By your evil you have brought me forth, and by your own hoof you have loosed me upon this earth like a storm!"

Author's Note

If you recognise this, well done, you've successfully noticed that I re-upped something from a collab I was part of. I don't know the status of those things now, but I wanted to preserve this just in case, and also to give context to the part in the next chapter.

Far

As the last of the debris crashed to the floor there came a shout from beyond the ragged hole that had been the doors of the throne room. A squad of ponies burst through the swirling dust, their coast dull as shadow, their obsidian-black armour gleaming in the fading light as they spread out into the hall, rolling over the dazed guards.

A cry rose up from behind the throne as a fresh contingent of the solar guard thundered into the room: "Protect the princess!"

They surrounded the throne, eyes fixed on the advancing enemy and spears lowered in magical fields. Yet rather than attack, the black-clad soldiers halted half way into the room, forming a line that bowed back toward the shattered door. They glared at the solar guard, but made no effort to attack. In the confusion a strange silence fell as the two sides regarded one another.

Celestia rose from her throne.

"Normally I ask ponies to knock," she said quietly as she took in the view, the same quiet smile that she always wore growing just a fraction as one of the dark soldiers shifted uncertainly, his eyes flickering to her face. "If you have a petition it would be answered far faster by registering with my secretary and–"

"Still deflecting your fear with humour, Celestia?" The voice that cut off the solar princess echoed strangely in the broad space, taking on an ethereal, ghostly harmony with itself as it filled the throne with a short, hard laugh. Anyone watching Celestia might have wondered just how the skin beneath her white coat managed to turn a lighter shade of pale and might have assumed it was merely an illusion, but there was no mistaking the fear and recognition in her eyes.

She took a step toward the edge of her dais, her eyes fixed on the door as a fresh cloud of smoke began to pour through, creeping along the floor, its tendrils curling up around columns and ponies and anything else it encountered. A dark figure stepped through, wreathed in a black mist that seemed to fold over its body like a cloak. Its – her – eyes were closed yet she navigated the floor with regal ease, setting one foot before the other as if she had trodden the same path every day of her life. The dark guard accompanying her separated to allow access through their lines before closing up to surround the newcomer.

"You always told the better jokes," the dark pony said, raising her hooded head. "You were always the trickster."

The newcomer threw back her head and laughed, her cloak collapsing into a cloud of mist as she spread her wings wide.

"Nightmare Moon," Celestia sighed. She closed her eyes just as the dark princess opened hers.

"No, it is I; I am myself," Luna replied, though her eyes narrowed to slits as she spoke. Luna licked her lips and took a short step toward the throne. "Surprised to see me?"

"Luna, please don't do this to us again. I lost you once, I—I can get the elements, the—"

"The Elements of Harmony," Luna sneered, a deep laugh rising up and burst from her throat as she half-turned from the throne. Her head shook. "Do you think I did not have those baubles neutralised this time? Did you truly believe they changed me in any way whatsoever?"

"Luna..."

"You know why I'm here, sister." Luna's hoof crunched against the marble floor as she turned, surrounding itself with a filigree of cracks. She lowered her head, pointing her horn directly at Celestia's face. "Where is she?"

Celestia's chin rose a fraction. "Safe. Far away."

Life

"Don't!" As Luna advanced, Twilight backed away, maintaining the distance between them. Mist curled around the light of their horns, concealing the world, and hiding them from all but one another.

"Twilight, please! I—"

"Don't you dare say it," Twilight sobbed. Tears ran freely down her face, yet she refused to look away. Even in her pain, Luna could feel a welling of pride at the strength Twilight displayed.

"I—"

"You monster, I said don't you dare!"

A wave of raw, undirected magic buffeted Luna as it passed by. For a moment the mist roiled and fell back against an expanding sphere of energy, but the magic's power was quickly spent, and soon the inky grey wall had closed in on them again.

Now Twilight finally looked away, closing her eyes in a show of finality that was unmistakable. She sniffed, and choked, and Luna was overcome by the urge to rush to Twilight's side. Yet she held back.

"I had begged you would not be forced to make this choice. I prayed... to whom did I pray? Myself? Celestia?" Luna lowered her head. "I thought you were dead. I thought—I thought I was alone, Twilight."

Author's Note

yay hoers

Ask

"I see it you know. In your eyes, I see it. Every movement you make is asking the same question over and over and over again. You're afraid of asking it because you don't want to remind me of something I'm all too aware of, but you can't ignore it, can you? You can't look away and pretend that the question isn't there.

"I know these eyes of mine aren't the same as they once were, but I see it anyway. Every time you look at me. Why are you fighting? Why are you trying to resist? You want to know the answer. Ask."

I watch the murky purple blur that had once been her face as it bobs around my vision. Dark circles that had been eyes flickered and flew – it had been a lie. I couldn't see her eyes. I hadn't seen them for nearly a decade, not really, but I could picture exactly how they would look. And exactly how she would react when I pointed it out.

We're walking in a park, I think. Probably the same park I had waited for him all those years ago, though these days it's hard to remember most of the details. So many memories lost to time. So many... I feel myself drifting into a reverie that I know I will become lost in for hours if I don't do something about it, so I stop. She stops with me; they both do, with that awkward nervousness that the young show when they're around the elderly. But she isn't young, not really. Her body may not age but her mind is as old as mine.

Perhaps less clouded. Or perhaps clouded differently.

"Ask," I say again. "Or shall I ask for you?"

She shuffles her legs, all nervous energy and confused spirits and I recall the days when a similar feeling would have left me bouncing on all fours like a sun-maddened hare. "Why aren't you afraid?"

I have to admit that's not the question I was expecting. She's a scientist, they don't usually ask why. They ask how, or when, or what but almost never why. Why questions lead to stories, not answers. I can feel my smile and I can feel the answering, nervous grin she gives me. Times like that I'm glad I still have all my teeth because I know I'd just end up losing falsies and then I'd be wandering around with gaps and holes and look like some sort of pirate. Or an old mare.

I chuckle to myself, likely confusing the pair of them even more than usual. Vanity is always the hardest thing to overcome.

I look at her, staring into those dark round holes in that blurry face. "What do I have to be afraid of?"

"Well..."

Before she can answer I start walking again. Hobbling really. My legs aren't the boundless springs they once were, but neither are they useless lumps, something I am and always shall be glad for.

"Death," I say quietly, "is merely a process. It's another step on the way, another part of the great balance. I came from the earth. I return to it so that new life can be born from my body. My entire life has been dedicated to this one, simple truth: that nothing is permanent. That all things end and begin and experience and change and end once more. Even you, Twilight. Even you will end. Your body may live until the stars grow cold, but that Twilight Sparkle will not be the pony I see before me now."

"How can you say that? I--"

She pauses, the analytical side of her mind already working over the implications of what I said. She understands, in her heart.

"Because you aren't the same pony now as you were when we met," I say. "That Twilight is as dead as you will be a thousand years from now. Because your experience has changed who you are."

Author's Note

Some old stuff.

Fizzle

(Or the sound the sun makes when it goes out)

* * *

In the late afternoon, between shafts of golden light that cut through still and dusty air, Celestia surveyed the empty Solar Court through equally empty eyes. Habit had brought her there, the muscle memory of centuries dragging her limbs without conscious thought through the corridors of the palace, on a route that had long ago become so ingrained in her mind that she might be able to draw every nook and cranny and crack and carpet of it from memory.

Why was she there? The day had been set aside on her calendar for months. Nopony had expected her to be there – not even the usual hopefuls who turned up on national holidays, eager for the chance to catch her unawares, as if that might help whatever petition they had brought. She had no reason to be there, on her throne, waiting for courtiers who would not arrive. They had been told to stay away.

The light of the sun inched further across the empty floor, lighting the white marble gold and blue, and green and purple, and every other colour contained within the tall, slender windows that depicted events from Equestria's history. All except one.

It had been so long.

"A thousand years," she announced to the room at large. Her voice echoed strangely without the ever-present mass of ponies to absorb it. The noise served to wake her mind from whatever fuge it had entered. Celestia looked about herself, taking in the still air and the golden light. Light that had already started to take on a somewhat strained quality to her arcane sight.

Carefully, one limb at a time, Celestia tore herself from the comfortable, familiar throne and descended the dais that served to isolate her from the world. She took one last look at the throne and bowed her head. With a gentle touch of her magic, the crown she had worn for the last millennium slipped from her head and settled on the floor at her hooves. She turned and walked toward the great doors of the throne room.

Those few servants that remained in the palace watched warily as she stalked toward the western wing. If they noticed the absence of the crown on her head, they said nothing, and in a perverse way that fact pleased Celestia. She had always prided herself on the discretion of her staff, especially in those days and months when she allowed herself to partake of what might be considered less than savoury pursuits. No scandal had ever erupted, not even that year she had spent seducing every pony that crossed her path. Or perhaps their discretion was found in not informing her of the scandal...

But that was the talk of paranoia, and she was not a paranoid princess. Raising her snout just a little, Celestia forged onward toward the west and her sister's domain.

Luna had always insisted on maintaining her apartments to the west of Celestia's living accommodation, and that habit had not been broken by her lunar sojourn. In the west, she said, the sun would set itself and the dark of night reined the day for a time. It was her idea of a joke.

The corridors around Luna's private rooms were deserted and silent, shrouded in magic that was as novel to the world as it was ancient, its like not seen for centuries. Even at this remove its crackling energy tingled in Celestia's spine and out to the tips of her outstretched wings, tantalising her body in ways she had forgotten were possible.

A door opened as she approached, admitting Celestia to the dimly lit corridor beyond. She paused beyond the threshold; the door closed behind her in near silence, trapping her in that place as surely as any cage.

"Luna?"

There was no answer to her call. Perhaps Luna had fallen asleep—but the magic was still strong, still growing. She wouldn't be asleep for this. Steeling herself, Celestia pushed through the curtains that bound the corridor and into the space beyond.

Bright sunlight filled the room, flowing through a bank of slender, gothic-styled windows that filled an entire wall. A fire pit of white marble rose from a silvery granite floor. Any other details of the room seemed to slip from Celestia's mind the moment she turned from them, leaving only the faintest impressions of form and colour. Black steel, velvety red, something that might have been a tapestry or a curtain across another door. No fire burned in the pit, and when she looked up at the window she saw the sun hanging beneath the moon in a bright afternoon sky.

"You came," said a voice. Luna's voice, she thought. Celestia turned from the sky, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find her sister.

"Did I have a choice?"

Shadows flowed across the walls, coalescing around a dark recess in the wall. She blinked, and the recess was a doorway, and Luna was stepping out into the light.

"We always have a choice, sister," she said, with just the hint of a smile. Her coat was dark, far darker than usual. "Or so I had believed. You have come freely?"

"I have. But Luna, it will terrify them. They haven't seen anything like this for centuries."

Luna's steps took her in a circle around Celestia. "Your careful regimenting of the sky saw to that, sister. The moon fixed to the night, the seasons and years tied to your sun," she said as she passed by Celestia's rear, and paused a moment to smile at her mark. "The wanderers forgotten, the cycles forgotten. The wax and the wane, approach and retreat..."

"I had no choice."

Luna stood before her again, though Celestia couldn't quite recall when she had reached that point. "Perhaps while I was gone, that is true. Yet now I am here once again."

"And I," Celestia replied quietly. She raised a hoof, moved a step toward her sister. "Luna, it's been a long time. The world changes."

"You hint of social mores and reputation ." Luna snorted. "I am the epitome of change, Celestia. I know that flux is the norm, but change must be wrought upon eternal foundations or it will come to nothing. The moon wanders night and day, changes her countenance, and brings inspiration and insanity in equal measure, but she is always the moon. She exists, no matter how her face might alter."

"They have forgotten."

"Then let them remember! And let you remember too," Luna said. She leaned toward Celestia, raising her mouth close to Celestia's ear as she spoke. "You want this, you need this, sister. I know of your dalliances and your private scandals, how you sate your passions and seek oblivion between the legs of others. Oh yes, I know. The palace staff are not as discreet as you wish to believe, when their bellies are filled with food and mead and their minds tantalised by visions and dreams."

So much for that, Celestia thought, lowering her head. "It's true that I desired... but ponies cannot accept such things! It would be abhorrent to them."

"Abhorrent." Luna stepped away, turning to look out at the moon. By now few could have failed to notice its proximity to the sun. She imagined Twilight frantically studying the event, rushing from book to book as she tried to understand the processes involved. "They accepted it before. They celebrated it, with horns blown across the land and feasts in our honour!" Luna took a graceful leap to the sill beneath the window and turned, spreading her wings so that the sun rested over one and the slender crescent of the moon over the other. "Every new moon they would call out and feast and celebrate, and we would make love beneath the darkening sky. Every month we would renew the bonds of our spheres before the assembled tribes! You revelled in it, sister! You rejoiced and you were taken by the darkness, and born again to new light!"

With panting breath that ghosted white in the room, despite the warmth, Luna looked down at Celestia. Her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed, and steam rose from her back in the sun's bright heat. Celestia was panting too, despite herself, as ancient magic flowed between them. She tried to blink, but found her eyelids langorous and slow; tried to speak, but found her tongue thick and her mouth slack. She could only groan beneath the pent up desire of a thousand years.

"Remember it," Luna called, as she stepped down to the floor.

"Remember," she said as she strode toward Celestia's shivering form.

"Remember," she whispered, as her face drew close to Celestia's own.

And then her breath was against Celestia's cheek, hot and moist as a summer's night. Celestia's lips parted; she closed her eyes as Luna pressed forward against her. They kissed, and as the sun was put out and the moon cast her shadow across the earth, Celestia fell into the black embrace of Luna's wings, and lost herself to oblivion.

Author's Note

Reposted from the princest collab (just in case; or for the sake of completeness. Who knows?)

Explicit

"They have to be told."

Perched on a couch close to the edge of a steaming, bright-blue pool buried in the living rock of the mountain that was their home, Luna stretched out her forelegs and let out a luxuriant sigh. She opened her eyes as the last echo of Celestia's words faded between the gilt marble pillars and frescoed walls of the Royal bathhouse – a structure obscenely large compared to the simple saunas and open-air springs Luna had enjoyed before her banishment – and peered at her sister across the pool.

"Who, sister? And what?"

"That we—did it."

"Ever the prude," Luna murmured, laying her head down once again. She waved a hoof at a trio of servants hovering nearby and spread her wings as they approached. One of them, a mare, approached silently. "They will know, in their hearts. That aside, I had rather gained the impression you wished to keep this aspect of our role a secret in this age. Something about those newsletters everypony seems to enjoy reading."

"Newspapers."

"Purveyors of intrigue and trivia. Were there any justice at all they would be no more than street gossips and bawdy singers, and I would be throwing rotten fruit at their heads."

Celestia snorted and shook her head. "Even so, our ponies wouldn't understand. When they look at us they see sisters, Luna, and little more. Sisters don't have sex in public."

"We could hide in a bush," Luna said. The mare at her left reared up, pressed both hooves against Luna's back; Luna stretched beneath the massage and sighed again. "It would be dark. They'd never suspect a thing."

"They'd find out. They're always trying to find something scandalous about me. The worst they've managed recently was a slice of cake and an unfortunate remark about Griffins a few years back, but that hasn't stopped them trying. If they could accuse me—us—of incest, I can't even imagine what would happen. We'd be deposed at the very least."

Luna's laughter burst across the chamber like a canonshot, causing Celestia to flinch visible, though leaving the servants unperturbed. It wasn't long before Luna's mirth died away, though; she saw Celestia with her nose buried between her hooves and her wings draped carelessly against the floor like a wilted flower.

Only the steady tinkle of flowing water followed, and the quiet rustling of hooves against Luna's coat as her massage continued. She waited for the masseuse to finish with a particularly troublesome knot before turning to look at her. The mare looked back after a moment, smiling and twisting her ears. Luna held up a hoof, circled it once and pointed toward the Celestia.

"You have still to explain the contradiction in your desires, sister," Luna said as the masseuse made her way around the pool. Celestia's reply was a short, grumpy sigh and a lazy flap of her wings. "You wish to keep secret our renewed bond, but you want to tell everypony—"

"Not everypony."

"Ah. Then Cadance," Luna replied. She smirked. "And the delectable Twilight."

Celestia nodded. She glanced up at the approaching masseuse and then at Luna, but made no effort to move away. Even a deaf pony could hear the creak of her bones, the tension in Celestia's body was so obvious.

"You were never so squeamish of such matters in the past." Luna waved at the other servants. They approached with a pitcher of wine and a simple cup, though perhaps 'simple' was the wrong term to use when the whole thing was made of gold.

"As I have said so often, those were different times."

"Truth, sister," Luna said, raising her cup. She took its contents in a single, deep swallow and held it out for a refill. "Better times, I feel, free of the burden of this puritan isolation beneath which our subjects labour. We were free, then, to make love amongst the forests of the wild lands, atop the highest peaks of the world and amongst the very clouds of the sky. The cries of our ecstasy filled the world from soil to sun. Do you remember?"

Again Celestia was silent, while Luna supped her wine and thought of freer times. When her cup was empty she cast it aside and dismissed the servants with a wave. She slid from her couch and circled the pool. The masseuse was sent away with a single look; she skittered toward her compatriots, laughing silently, her body twitching the language of the deaf as the three retreated from the chamber to their quarters.

A final creak of the chamber doors left the pair alone. Celestia took a breath and let it out slowly, as if she had no enthusiasm even to breathe. Her eyes rolled toward Luna. "Different times," she repeated quietly.

Luna ignored her for the moment. She stepped around behind Celestia and placed a hoof on her back, just behind her wings. No magic was required to feel the bristling tension in Celestia's back. Tutting quietly at the state her sister had brought herself to, Luna ran her hoof along Celestia's back to her withers. "We have lived together through many an age, sister."

"But they're the product of this age," Celestia murmured. Luna hummed a response and leaned over Celestia's back, working a hoof down each side of her sister's neck.

"I trust so that will understand."

"Cadance might accept the idea. Twilight..." Celestia heaved and groaned as Luna's hooved dug deep into her flesh. She stretched out her neck, nickering quietly as the tension worked out of her shoulders, then fell back against the couch.

"She is an intelligent mare."

"Perhaps so, but Luna, for most of her life she's treated me as akin to a god! I can't predict how she will react when I no longer live up to that image."

"But you are kin to a god." Luna's hooves moved back toward the shoulders of Celestia's wings. "Or a goddess."

Celestia pounded a hoof against the couch. "That's not the point!"

"Then what is, dear sister of mine?"

Luna paused in her ministrations. She was sure she had felt a flush of heat beneath her hooves. Curious, she leaned close to hold her cheek over Celestia's withers. Warmth flowed from Celestia, a heat unusual even by Celestia's often expansive body temperature.

"She is dear to me," Celestia finally allowed. She shifted beneath Luna's hooves, bringing the pair closer together even if she didn't know it. Or perhaps she did. Luna allowed herself to fall a little closer to Celestia's body in return. "I don't want to lose her companionship."

"She is a good friend," Luna replied. "But I suspect that is not the meaning you wished to convey." Celestia snorted, and Luna couldn't help but smile. "White was never good for hiding such emotions, Celestia. I recall a time when with but a single word I could turn you pink as the dawn. But you forget..." Luna pressed herself closer still to Celestia, reaching her head up to whisper in her sister's ear. "In a thousand years, she too shall be your sister."

"Not like you." Celestia turned her head, seeking out Luna's face and lips with her own. Their kiss lasted only moments, but it was enough for now. Luna lowered her head against Celestia's side with a heartfelt sigh.

"Not like me," she said.

"I still have to tell her."

"You could explain to her that we are sisters by convention. We are, after all, two goddesses of the heavens themselves. Who is to say what we may call one another?"

Celestia shook her head. "No. If I am to tell her the truth then it must be the truth. We are sisters, Luna, bound by blood, or whatever godstuff might flow in our veins. She has to know everything, or nothing at all. Either she will accept it..." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "Or I will have eternity to seek her forgiveness."

"Then so be it." Luna wrapped her forelegs around Celestia's neck and draped her wings across both their bodies. Sweat and heat and little else was all that lay between them. She rubbed her ear against Celestia's jaw. "But remember, beloved sister, I at least will not leave you again."

Celestia bowed her head. "Thank you."

"Nor shall she," Luna continued, allowing her eyes to close as the warmth overtook her. "I cannot believe otherwise. I shall welcome their companionship."

Author's Note

The follow-up to Fizzle, which never made it into the collab.

Striadon

Author's Note

A thing I promised to write a long time ago and only just remembered to post.

Striadon

Tirek was pleased.

Celestia's pleading had reduced to animalistic growls even before the Rainbow of Darkness had finished its work, but her mind had remained long enough to give them the barest semblance of despair as she fought the remaking of her body. Fought and failed. He had watched the last dregs of conscious thought fade from her dull eyes until all that was left was his third and largest beast.

The conquest had been easy this time. They had thought him defeated and humiliated, stripped of his power and locked away for eternity in the pits. That complacency had cost them dear.

The one called Cadance had been the first to fall to his new spell. She was young and weak; pitifully weak in fact. The Rainbow had remade her in moments, its work complete before she could even think to react. A pity. He had thought of turning her against the stallion on which she had frittered so much attention and lust, but in the end the sight of his horror at the new shape of his beloved had been more than enough compensation.

Then there had been Luna. Powerful, to be sure, but timid. Once she had been a worthy opponent, a great goddess of the skies themselves, who alone might have been able to defeat him. Now, at the sight of him and the thing that had been Cadance, she hesitated.

It cost her.

Oh but she had fought, straining at the power he had unleashed with every fibre of her being, spewing profanity and curses at Tirek until the Rainbow had overtaken her voice, and then howling viciously to the very last. Her beast was anything but timid and even now strained at the chains that bound it to the foot of his new throne.

Then had come Celestia.

He had thought to send her former family to steal her away, but before he could do so, she had come to him. In full view of the legion at her back, she had offered herself to whatever he desired, if only Luna and Cadance would be returned unharmed. It seemed laughable; she must have known he wouldn't even consider the offer, yet Celestia had insisted.

Tirek's answer was to unleash the Rainbow against her. The opportunity to finally humiliate his erstwhile tormentor, to demonstrate his true power to the massed armies behind her, had been too tempting to ignore.

Perhaps she had hoped for it. Perhaps she had thought she might withstand the brute power of his weapon. At first it seemed she might, for powerful as Luna had been, she was nothing compared to the strength Celestia displayed. For stretched-out seconds she bore the full brunt of the assault, though her gasped moans of exertion soon showed how taxing the front had been.

Without warning her power had collapsed, plunging the Rainbow into the core of her soul. She had screamed then, wide-eyed but sightless, mouthing wordless pleas as her body was corrupted and remade from within. The words had found their voice when the first horn erupted from her head, only to be garbled once again by the tusks that cracked from her jaw.

She had fallen then, and now the guards watched, slack-jawed, as their former ruler writhed on the ground, each crunch and crackle of reforming bone and sinew sending waves of fear amongst their ranks. Then the beast that had been Celestia rose to its feet, its muscular forequarters glittering beneath the sheen of foamy sweat from its exertions, and lumbered to Tirek's side.

Such is Life

Author's Note

The staff of Lachrimose House.
Left to right: Dolores, Chantal, Curt, Sunrise Song, Shortbread (butler), Marie, Josephine, Dilly Daliér, Slowpoke.

This was to be a sequel to To Be A Mule and The Festival of Lights, with ties to other bits and bats of donkey fic I was either writing or planning at the time. Then I got ill, and forgot how to write, and so it has lingered on my computer for the last few years without conclusion.

It would have started to expand on a few bits of headcanon I maintain about the donkeys. Most obviously was the naming scheme, with jennies all having 19th century french-sounding names, and jacks being named for silly things and pokemon (though I maintain that was totally a coincidence).

I had a couple more stories in the cycle planned, but they never got beyond vague outlines. It's disappointing to me that I didn't manage it, but such is life.

Such is Life

An early morning sun drove golden spears against the carefully mowed lawns of Lachrimose House, scattered with the last sprinkled blossom of the cherry trees that stood in a carefully arranged sweeping curl on the east. Within the bowels of the house, a clock struck the sixth bell and was followed by the faint stump of hooves on carpet as the household set about preparation for another day.

Slowpoke's ears twitched at the sound; he gave a quiet grunt and took another draw from his pipe. He had been seated on the verandah for a good half hour, watching the sun stretch slowly across his domain, where it burned at the mists that curled from the previous night's dew and the moist, rich earth to which he had spent so many years tending. His eyes reached the greenhouses and his hoof strayed to the watch resting in his waistcoat pocket. For a near-uncountable moment he smiled, after a fashion, and shook his head.

A newspaper lay at his side, crumpled and folded until its pages had given up any attempt to remain in line. It was yesterday's paper and there wasn't much of interest left within it, but he had read it from end to end as the sun had risen even so. Perhaps he should read it again. It would give him something to do while he waited.

Not that he was waiting for anything in particular this morning. The garden had reached that rare and blessed state in which there was little to do, save pluck at the occasional weed and tie up a loose stave here and there. It was a state that wouldn't last long, however; something would wilt without warning, or suddenly drop its foliage, or there'd be an unscheduled storm tearing branches from trees and scattering pots and twigs and mulch every which way. Or there'd be a 'request' from their ladyships to alter some patch of their paradise, and he'd have to break out the seedling trays and the shovel, and plan an expedition to explore the estate's immense catalogue of exotic flora.

But that was for the future. For now he could rest, and wait. Slowpoke let out a rumbling sigh, sending a fresh curl of smoke to join the cloud drifting out over the grass. He drew at his pipe and picked up the newspaper.

The verandah door creaked wide just as he had managed to restore the paper to a readable state. Slowpoke didn't look up as hoofsteps bore down on him, but instead carefully smoothed out the page before him and held it up to better catch the light. He waited as the mare – these days it was always a mare, and always one in particular – stumbled to a halt beside his bench.

"Good morning, your ladyship," he said, turning a page and settling it flat before looking up and away.

"There's not much good about it," the mare replied, flicking idly at her lank lavender mane before collapsing onto the bench with a relieved sigh. She lifted her hind legs one after the other, groaning with each motion. "And I thought I told you not to call me that. I'm not any sort of lady."

"Right you are, ma'am."

Slowpoke turned back to his newspaper and waited for what would likely be another rambling gripe about the world at large. Star Sparkle might be generous as an employer and, if rumour were to be believed, in a few more intimate ways as well, but her views of the world, ponies, other species, and anything else that caught her ire were meaner than a griffon's grip on a gold bit.

It was a surprise, then, when he looked up from his paper to find a good few minutes had passed between them in silence. Star was staring out at the garden, empty-eyed, her body somehow shrunken and slight, as if age had finally caught up to her. Or perhaps she'd always been that way and he'd just never noticed before. Slowpoke touched a hoof to his pipe, thinking to set it aside, but there didn't seem to be any reason for it. Instead he turned another page of his paper, as much to convince himself that he was still reading it than anything else.

"If you're so desperate to read that rag," Star grunted, "there's a new one in the parlour."

"I was aware, ma'am, but I reckon his lordship hasn't had his fill of it yet."

Star snorted. "Oh I doubt Luci would give a shake if you took it. Besides, after what they wrote about Twilight and me I'm determined to wean him off the damn thing."

"Terrible business," Slowpoke replied, then turned another page.

"They should spend some time in the real world and see what it feels like to have ponies yammering on with half-truths and rumours about their parentage!" Star slammed a hoof on the bench hard enough to send a splinter of paint skittering across the verandah. She was huffing through her nose and glaring at the deck, the haunted look she had worn earlier long banished. "They've no respect for decent ponies."

Slowpoke's gaze rose slowly from the newspaper, travelling the length of the garden before it came to rest on a broad, white gazebo. He hummed and nodded, and then carefully plucked the pipe from his mouth.

"There's ponies as say all sorts, ma'am, bad'uns with no care for how they hurt others if it'll give them an edge, but they ain't worth troublin' your ears over."

"But you saw what they—" Star's jaw snapped shut. She closed her eyes.

"Aye, and it don't bear thinkin' about neither, the way they treated the poor young miss after she'd done so much for em' too," Slowpoke replied. "But who'd believe in that who wouldn't have believed it anyway? Some folks is just mean, ma'am."

He stood, setting the paper aside once more. "Now if you'll excuse me, there's things—"

"That need seeing to hereabouts, yes," Star muttered. "I suppose I have overstayed my welcome again haven't I?"

"Your garden, ma'am."

"Lucent's garden. Actually I think it might belong to Crinkle, I never really asked. Oh!"

Star tumbled from her seat and turned to face Slowpoke. She flicked at her mane again – perhaps she needed to get it trimmed, and that reminded Slowpoke he'd have to see to the privets before they grew too bushy again. At least he didn't have to maintain any topiary, unlike the poor sod two houses over.

"You've reminded me," Star said. She smiled, after a fashion, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Crinkle seems to think that you and your son would like to attend dinner with us tonight. Seven-thirty. No need to dress up."

She turned and stalked away before Slowpoke could think of a reply. He snorted and slumped back on the bench with a heavy sigh. "Right you are, ma'am," he muttered, and tapped his pipe out against the wall.

* * *

Breakfast for most of the staff was barely the start of their day. The maids were always first, bustling about the kitchen table in a giggling heap as they raked over whatever tidbits of scandal and gossip they had gleaned the previous day's work, while shovelling down slice after slice of fresh-baked bread and butter, cakes, soup and whatever scraps of expensive food they could get their hooves about. All jennies, save a lone unicorn mare who always ended up pulled right to the middle of the group.

Behind them loomed Marie, the head chambermaid, who watched with dull-eyed malice for any maid who might step out of line, say the wrong thing or take too much butter for her tastes. She turned the same gaze on Slowpoke as he ambled into the kitchen, barely tempering it for his sake. A curt nod was the only greeting he would get from her.

By contrast the cook, Chantal, was cheer personified, hustling Slowpoke toward a smaller table close to the ovens before he could protest.

"Not seen you here for a while my lad," she declared as she set a fat bowl of bread and butter pudding on the table before him. His ears twitched briefly in her direction and she laughed. "New recipe, chuck! I was thinking I'd serve it up tonight for their ladyships, seein' as it's their first real meal together since—well..."

She bobbed her head and poked a spoon into the bowl. After a glance around the kitchen, Slowpoke carefully lifted a healthy serving of the pudding and pressed it into his mouth.

"Not bad," he said, after chewing it over. He set the spoon down and nodded. "Bit buttery maybe."

"Aye... well, you know his lordship, he likes em fatty," the cook replied, before turning away. "Want something to wash it down? I've got that beer in you like."

Slowpoke shook his head. "Not this early, Chantal. Might be the weekend tomorrow but I've got things to be going along with until then."

"Always the same, you," Chantal replied, returning with a pitcher of water and a glass. She set them down on the table centre, then settled herself in a seat opposite Slowpoke. "Josephine says as you're to be dining with their ladyships tonight, you and Dal. Been a good while since they had you up to the front, hasn't it?"

"Not since I retired," Slowpoke mumbled around another mouthful of the pudding. He swallowed and set the spoon aside. "Dal's never been up there before, either."

"Aye. Shortbread's been snottier than normal too, last week or so, since Dal got that new girl a spot on the staff. Remember? Made a right fuss about him usurpin' her authority she did." Chantal sighed and shook her head. "One day that mare'll step too far and earn herself the side of her ladyship's tongue, you mark my words."

"She's only doin' her job," Slowpoke put in, before taking another mouthful of his pudding. It was growing on him.

"Puttin' on airs more like." Chantal paused, chewing at her lip. "Thinkin' she's better'n us just because she ain't a donkey."

"Shortbread's the same with everyone she meets, Chantal. Even young Sunrise over there, and we both know who got her the job in the first place," Slowpoke replied, once he'd swallowed the last dregs of his meal. He set the bowl and spoon aside and leaned back. "It'll pass, soon as the new girl's settled in. You'll see."

"Aye, maybe," said Chantal as she eyed Slowpoke's empty bowl. She turned back to Slowpoke, all cheer and grins again. "You finished that off quick, my lad. Want some more?"

"Plenty for me," Slowpoke replied, patting his belly. "Sides, I'll need to keep some space for dinner. Wouldn't want to see your cooking go to waste."

"As if their ladyships'd leave anything behind. Miss Crystal could eat a whole cart and not notice, scuse my pardon. Not that I'm complaining, mind you." Chantal hustled from her seat, tossing Slowpoke's crockery across her back to the sink as she went. "Does a soul proud to see a pony what enjoys my food, so it does, if only I could figure out how she keeps so skinny all the time. Ain't natural! Still, as long as she puts it away, I shan't make a fuss. You run a long now chuck," she added, winking at Slowpoke. "I'll make sure to keep some of that beer waiting for you."

"Chantal, you're a saint."

Slowpoke eased from his chair, stretching his legs and then his back as he moved. He looked back toward the door; the maids were skittering through it in pairs and threes as they returned, under Marie's sharp-tongued orders, to the jobs they had begun before their riotous breakfast. Soon the last of them had left and the kitchen was quiet, though not so pleasant now that the ovens had warmed the place so thoroughly. Better to be outside, he thought, and turned for the far door.

"Slowpoke."

It was Marie. Slowpoke turned, stiffly, to face her and that glower she always carried. "Yes lass?"

"Miss Josephine wants to see you," Marie said, lumbering through the sentence like a minotaur along a crowded street. She huffed sharply and stared at Slowpoke then, as if daring him to contradict the statement. "Reckons it's important."

"Course she does," Slowpoke replied, glancing at Chantal. He shrugged and bobbed his head. "Tell her I'll be along at lunch, then," he added, turning away before Marie could think up a reply.

* * *

Slowpoke found Dal lurking by the potting sheds, stomping about the little yard between them and the compost heap and sorting empty planters into neat piles and rows. A young filly watched from the corner, where she sat on a broken down wall and tugged nervously at a quilted green jacket two sizes big for her.

A random quote

I have heard the mundane art of our species described as the 'great calling' or the second mystery of existence, but in truth it is only the application of one force against many others. Magic, true magic, only occurs when you understand a thing so intimately that it feels a part of you, and you a part of it. Magic is to immerse yourself in the world, to join with it in body and soul, to connect yourself to every element of its existence. The most intimate understanding of all is amongst those bound to one another by love and companionship. The truest magic in this world is found in that intimacy.

— Princess Celestia

Author's Note

From a lost chapter of The Xenophile's Guide. According to the notes, it was going to be a treatise, by Twilight Sparkle, on the origin and physical underpinigns of magic, with a lot of headcanon about the magic of earth ponies and pegasi, and other species as well. If I ever find the time, I'll try and expand it some more.

A Random Poem

There's Twilight twixt each day and night
And 'fore each frosty morning's glow
Taunting dark with hidden light
Hiding day in ebon flow
There beg forgiveness of your lover
Hurt and hurt again by words
Uttered forth, in anger thrown
Driven deep, those bitter swords
Seek within the heart once cherished
Beg, and begging, make now whole
With tender care, and soft, this union
Heal once more this love-burned soul

Author's Note

This was on my notes for an early draft of No Room For Regret. I don't remember writing it, but several days of searching my library and the internet haven't found anything I could have taken it from, so I'm going to lodge an optimistic authorship on this and say it's mine.

The themes of the story are obvious even at the early point this was added to the fic. Just wait until I finish...

Horns of the Dilema?

Author's Note

I'm not sure why I started writing this. It was probably for a competition. I also feel like I've posted it somewhere before, but I can't find it in anything. C'est la vie, I suppose.

Horns of the Dilema?

What is a city?

The most obvious answer would be the least interesting, wrapped up in long, plodding explorations of economics and social hierarchies, or the convenience and safety of proximity, or cooperation for mutual defence, or efficiency of centralised administration, or...

Well, you get the picture.

All of which answers the purpose of a city, but none of which really answers the question of what a city is. What it represents to the world about its inhabitants. What it says about their culture.

Canterlot, in the eyes and aching horns of Kairon, represented two things.

The first, by its lofty, needle-thin towers that struck skyward from every crack and spike of the mountain on which it sat, was that ponies mastered all that they surveyed, and were more than happy to let the world know that they were definitely on top of everything.

The second, demonstrated amply by the low lintel that had done such a number on his head, was that they were very small. He wondered if the second might explain the first as he pawed gingerly at his horns, seeking for potential cracks. With noe found, he stepped back, ducked under the door and stepped into the interior of the Broken Jug.

As pubs go, it was fairly typical. An polished oak bar lined the far wall, though its top was less polished than worn sheer by the passing of countless limbs and tankards across the decades of spilled beer and salt and the grease of unkempt hair. He nodded to the bartender, a surly old pony with a notch in his ear that he had always refused to discuss, and held up a finger. The bartender snorted and all but sneered at him in reply, but then set about pulling a pint of the only beer the place sold.

The ceiling was low, too, but not so low that he couldn't stand nearly upright, solong as he ducked beneath the soot-blackened beams that held the ceiling at bay. He reached the bar as his drink was tossed casually before him, adding its own contribution to the ersatz polish. Kairon responded with a pair of coppers, seized his drink and ducked away between crowded tables to a far corner, where another minotaur slouched over a pair of emptied pints while a third, half-full, nestled between his palms on the edge of his table.

"Made your usual entrance," the other said, as Kairon settled in the seat next to him. "I'd have learned to duck by now, if I wore your greaves."

"I did." Kairon pulled at his drink, grimacing at the sour tang of cheap hops, then set it aside.

"Be thankful you're not a Highlander then. You'd have to walk in--"

"Sideways, I know. Your jokes are stale as the piss we're drinking, Petras."

"Least I make jokes."

"The first is always 'Let's go to the Jug'."

Petras leaned back and downed the rest of his drink in two heavy gulps. He set his glass aside with the others, settled into his seat and let out a loud belch. "S'a good one. Always gets a laugh outta you anyway."

"Because it's nonsense, Pet. We could be drinking anywhere in the city, but you always drag me down to this--"

Kairon pressed his lips together and shot a hot sigh through his nose. Not that the pub's patrons would have disagreed with the insult he had been about to hurl, but the owner might argue. By all accounts he had a mean kick, and few scruples about where he aimed it.

The Model

Jean Baudrillard placed a pen on the counter before him, only to reject it as a fetishistic symbol of consumption, devoid of meaning without the contextual representation of society that was the paper. He turned from it, sighed, and placed his head in his hands. "If only I had a metaphor of social hyperreality from which to draw a coherent narrative of the world."

And then Pinkie Pie appeared.

Author's Note

I think I posted this before somewhere. Or maybe it was just a sign.

It was a long time ago at any rate.

Guiding Light deleted scene

Author's Note

This originally came before the scene in which Rarity is leading Sparkler to understand and accept her new position in life. It adds a little more motivation, but it interrupted the flow of the story.

Why am I publishing it now? Fuck knows. Maybe I just like attention.

Guiding Light deleted scene

Rising Stars

It was insane. It had to be the ramblings of some madmare. She was still at university for Celestia’s sake! It couldn’t be right. She couldn’t be a Duchess. She wasn’t even sure what a Duchess was supposed to do!

“M’lady Amethyst, please remain still!”

Sparkler shook her head for perhaps the hundredth time that morning – if the darkness outside could truly be called ‘morning’ – and tried to ignore the stuffy old chambermare and her assistants as they fussed about her. Yesterday she’d been a university student, a nothing, a nobody who’s only claim to fame was that she’d walloped the most powerful magic user in all Equestria across the face and lived to tell the tale. Now she was going to be presented to the world as the mare who would be, for all intents and purposes, sole heir to whatever remnant of the Unicorn kingdoms still existed.

What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? What--

She squeaked with shock as a measuring tape was rudely inserted between her hindlegs and pulled tight. “What the f-- watch where you’re putting that thing!”

“Please, Lady Amethyst,” the chambermaid – Slight Patter or something like that – tugged at the tape with her magic, pulling it even tighter against Sparkler’s body. “If you’re going to be presented to the court, you must be wearing suitable attire. I merely wish to--”

“I don’t want to be presented to the court, clothed or otherwise!”

“M’lady, you have a duty to--”

“Fuck duty!”

The chambermaid turned a baleful eye on Sparkler and stared at her for a few moments that felt like several very uncomfortable minutes. She didn’t remonstrate or even show any emotion other than a sort of neutral dismissal. Sparkler felt her fire go out. She looked down at her hooves as the chambermare spoke again.

“M’lady Amethyst, forgive me, I appear to have other duties to attend,” she snapped. The tape loosened and fell to the floor and the chambermaid turned, followed closely by the two silent maids at her side.

Sparkler let out a breath as the door snapped shut, and kicked the cursed measuring tape out from beneath her. It landed in a tangled pile in the corner of the room, to burst into flame a moment later. A satisfied smirk grew on Sparkler’s face as the glow of her magic faded. Let them measure her for a stupid robe now...

Anger sated, she turned her attention to the fire crackling in the room’s broad hearth. The long night had brought an autumnal chill to the air that even the thick walls of the castle couldn’t fully hold at bay, but the small guest suite she shared with Dinky was kept tolerably warm by a fireplace almost the size of her University stabling. On first sight she’d thought it to be a mucky closet that had lost its doors; it wasn’t until Dinky had pointed out the very obvious hearth and grate that she’d realised her mistake. Fortunately, she hadn’t thought to try hanging anything in it.

Now the fire filled the room with warmth and light, casting a soft golden glow across everything, almost like a summer sunset. She glanced up at the window that should have been bright with a mid-morning sky and sighed at the sight of wintery stars. Was this what Nightmare Moon had once wanted? Eternal night? She’d probably not thought it through if that was the case. Night-time was cold when it lasted longer than it was meant to.

There was a knock at the door. Sparkler jumped in surprise, wondering how long she’d been staring at the flames, before bolting to the door. She paused then, wondering if she could get away with ignoring the visitor, but then her sister bounced in from the bedroom, squealing and singing, convinced their mother had returned at last. The way her face would fall when it turned out to be untrue again...

“Dinky, it’s probably just another maid.”

“But--”

“Just a maid,” Sparkler repeated. Dinky’s eyes widened and her little lip quivered, but she held herself remarkably well. “Go back to your room. I’ll come and read to you in a bit.”

“Okay...”

The youngster moped back through to the bedrooms, pausing only to kick the door closed behind her. Sparkler turned back to the door, any chance of escape long gone, as her visitor would surely have heard the entire exchange. She braced herself and yanked the door open. Little could have prepared her for the sight beyond.

“M-mom?”

Her mother ducked a little as she stepped through the door, looking this way and that. She halted half way into the room, her mane lifting into the air in a breeze that couldn’t exist, and smiled at her daughter.

“Hello Sparkler.”

“Mom what are you doing? What if Dinky--”

“I only came for a moment. I miss you both.” She nuzzled Sparkler’s neck and head, lingering for a while. Sparkler could feel her shivering despite the warmth of the fire. “Come out into the reception hall, I d-don’t want Dinky to hear me.”

She stepped back, allowing Sparkler space to exit, and closed the door. Of course ‘hallway’ was something of a misnomer for the grand space outside the apartment, which was almost a room in its own right. A fire burned in another hearth, larger and less decorated than the one she had just left and comfortable couch-cushions were spread around the walls, interspersed with potted plants or low tables. To the left and right, behind ostentatious horseshoe arches tall enough to accommodate a small dragon, dim and smoky corridors stretched off to join the rest of the castle.

Her mother settled on one of the couches. She looked around, as if unsure of how to react to the space she was, but smiled when Sparkler sat down next to her.

“You aren’t just here because you miss me, mom. I know that look.”

“I never can hide anything from you,” her mother replied, keeping her voice low. Her lips smiled a light smile that wasn’t quite mirrored in her eyes. “I just had a very noisy conversation with one of the senior chambermaids. She thought you were very rude to her.”

“She tried jamming a measuring tape up my--” The echo of her words from the far wall caught Sparkler by surprise. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper as she continued. “I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not letting her torment me and I am not going to be paraded in front of all those snobs!”

“I wouldn’t force you, Sparkler, but apparently you need to make an appearance sooner or later. Twilight--”

“Hah!”

Her mother frowned just a little and continued, ignoring Sparkler’s outburst. “Twilight tells me that there are all sorts of rules about it. If you aren’t officially invested, you stop being a duchess, and then somepony might try something dumb.”

“I don’t want to be a duchess! I was going to be a writer!”

“And you’re a very good one,” her mother replied. Her smile was more genuine this time. “At least let yourself be measured for the dress, Sparkler. If it makes you feel better we’ll say it’s a present from me for no reason at all.”

“I dunno... she was pretty rough with that tape.” Sparkler resisted the urge to rub at her stomach. She was sure the measuring tape had made a nasty mark there. Her mother was still smiling when she looked up, eyes twinkling like they did when she’d had an idea.

“Would you feel better if someone else did it?”

“Maybe.”

She was starting to smile like the old Princess. Maybe it was something about the shape of her face, but Sparkler found it a little weird when she did that. “Mom, what are you planning?”

“I’m not planing anything, sweetie, I just happen to have a visitor who might be able to help you out. She was visiting Twilight--”

“Then I don’t want anything to do with her,” Sparkler shot back. She stood up and made to leave, but something grabbed at her chest and held her back. Damn conscience. With a heavy sigh she turned back to her mother and sat own again. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Miss Rarity is a good pony.”

“Rarity? You mean the famous fashion designer Rarity? From Ponyville?”

“I mean the pony that always gave me a huge tip when I delivered her mail on hearthswarming eve and who made that Princess Platinum costume for Dinky when she was in the play last year.”

“Oh... oh! But why would she do this?”

Her mother smiled. It was the smile she got when she knew she’d created the perfect batch of muffins or when Dinky did something really cute. The smile Sparkler had missed so much these last few days.

“Mom...”

“Sparkler, I want you to be happy.” A wing crept around Sparkler’s back, not quite touching her, the sort of half-hug her mother gave her when she wasn’t sure if it would be appreciated. Sparkler leaned back into it and deliberately sighed. She was rewarded a moment later by the wing enfolding her almost completely.

“I am happy. Kinda.”

“Miss Rarity was dropping really unsubtle hints about doing clothes for both of you,” her mother said. She flicked her wing away from Sparkler and stood up, suddenly all business. “She’ll be so pleased when I tell her. Maybe I’ll finally get some peace.”

“She wants to do it? For free?”

“Probably, but I’ll give her something in return. Maybe a knighthood. I can do that now.”

Sparkler rubbed her face and grinned. “Mom, you’re turning into a real princess, you know that?”

“If I have to spend the next however many thousand years in this place then you bet I’m going to take advantage of it,” she replied, returning the grin, before turning toward the corridor. She paused for a moment and looked back at Sparkler. The smile was gone again. “Does Dinky still...”

“Yeah. No more bad dreams, but she’s still convinced the ‘scary mare’ is out to get her.” Sparkler reached out to hug her mother again, nuzzling her neck. The older mare took a shuddering breath and eased herself away from the hug. “She’ll grow out of it, mom. You’ll see.”

Her mother nodded sadly and turned away again. Sparkler watched until she was out of sight before returning to her apartment and her younger sister.

What is a Princess?

The way the candle light cast stark, dancing shadows on the walls of her bedroom was the memory Twilight would hold most keenly of her third night living in the palace.

The first had been a rush of excitement and exploration, and the sleep of contented exhaustion after a long day finding her bearings.

The second had been unmemorable.

On the third, she had woken from a nightmare in which her whole family were chained in darkness, as a cackling, black-coated monster had swallowed the sun whole and cast down the walls of her room to reveal an onyx cage, that glistened in the light of a thousand burning stars.

To wake to a room cast all about with thin, black shadows had made her believe the dream was real, if only for a moment, until the Princess had spoken comforting words to her in a voice soothing as the warmth of the morning sun on a chilled back. The words had retreated from memory, but the feeling was one she could never forget.

The next morning, when she awoke again, she found Celestia still sitting by her bed, as if she hadn't moved all night. Surely she must have left at some point? Surely she had better things to do?

So Twilight had asked her, in the way only a sleepy child can: "Princess, what is a Princess for?"

She'd squeaked in terror and burrowed under the covers the moment the words had left her mouth. Asking a princess what good she served was a capital crime, surely? But no punishment had been brought upon her head. Instead she heard laughter. Not mocking, or cruel, but caring and soft.

When she emerged from beneath the sheets, she found Celestia smiling down at her.

"You mean, my student," the Princess said, "what purpose does a Princess serve?"

"I guess."

"Perhaps you can answer this for me, young Twilight. What purpose does a Princess serve? What makes me a Princess? Think on it today, and answer tonight, if you have any answer at all."

And then she had turned and left, humming a song that Twilight thought she recognised, but had never been able to recall since.

The day had passed in a flurry of activity, as Twilight was introduced to servants, to rooms of study and libraries and the more of the grounds of the palace but the question was never far from her mind.

That night, as the sun sank toward the horizon, Celestia returned to Twilight's room, that in her memory seemed so large and empty, but that was nevertheless small enough that the Princess dwarfed everything within it.

"Did you remember my question, young Twilight?" She seated herself by the bed and smiled. "What is a Princess for? What makes me a Princess?"

Twilight had pondered this, tapping her chin as she had seen her parents do when they thought hard about a question. Of course she already knew the answer, but it was right to show that you were thinking about it even so.

"You're rich and powerful," she said. "You control the sun and moon, and have a huge palace, and lots of guards and servants who you tell what to do."

And with the answer given, she had grinned at Celestia, and Celestia had smiled back at her. Then, slowly, she shook her head.

"These are all things that a Princess can do, or that a Princess can have. They are what a Princess can be made of. Truly I am powerful, truly my magic is powerful, truly I have servants and wealth, and the ability to move the sun, but this is not what a Princess is for, nor does any of it make me a Princess."

"Oh," Twilight had said. To say she had been disappointed was to fail to grasp the reality of things.

As if to sense her anguish, Celestia had bowed her head to Twilight. "You are wise beyond your years Twilight Sparkle, even if you have not yet fully understood the truth this question will one day reveal, nevertheless you understand that a Princess must wield power, and must command, and must do her duty to her ponies. As I must now do my duty to you, as I train you. Sleep well, my young student, and dream of warm meadows and peaceful days."

Onyx. She'd learned that one from a foal's story book that she'd found in the palace library on her second day. Perhaps it hadn't been so unmemorable after all.

* * *

For the first two years of her education, Twilight had lived two days at the palace and five at home with her family. By all reasonable accounts the arrangement was intended to give her time to adjust to her new station, but Twilight eventually came to understand that it was to prevent her becoming isolated and insular, a tiny cog in the machine that was the royal court, divorced from the toings and froings of the everyday pony.

Author's Note

Yet another one that I started and never finished. I can't find my notes for it either, which is disappointing, to say the least. Whatever I had in mind for it would probably have been awesome. I know I was going to work some great refs into it.

Such is life...

Afterword to the Xenophile's Guide (rejected)

Afterword to 16th Edition

It has been two hundred years since the first print run of this book was published. This edition reproduces in precise detail that very first issue, including the annoying smudge the first run had on page thirty and the missing page number on page seventy two. Subsequent editions corrected these and other errors, most notably with a clarification of the most likely causes of our still-unsolved gender imbalance, and the addition of more up to date explorations of various social phenomena.

The purpose of this reissue was two fold. First, as a historical reference, as few copies of the original issue are available any more. Second, as a reminder to myself and others what the world was like in those days, when the human walked our world, and everything was new.

I miss his warmth. Of all the things I remember about him, that’s the one that truly stands out. The four of us cuddled up on a couch while Lero told us another tale of high adventure from his home, a fire crackling in the hearth our only light. Contentment. Peace.

Together we four saw the world through one another’s eyes. We saw that world change in ways too beautiful to describe, though we tried to describe it anyway. In the end we didn’t need to. We became one, and through the merging of our lives and experience, every moment of joy and sorrow and love we shared became a foundation for each that would follow. Four bodies, one soul, seeing the world anew every single day.

Now two bodies, and a soul that has taken many years to remember who it was.

It was inevitable really. We - Rainbow, myself and my friends - were touched by the Elements. They changed us. The moment we joined with them we were destined to experience first-hand the immortal’s curse, to watch those we loved grow, rise, fade and fall into shadow, while we remained untouched by time.

We two stayed together because we could think of no other way to live, and when we remembered who we were we stayed together for the love we had always shared, a love we had found thanks to him.

Lero, my beloved Lero, lived to the age of eighty two, and was taken from me in his sleep. My precious Lyra died as she lived, in peace and stillness, meditating the sunrise that very same day. I am certain she knew he had left, and just as certain she chose to follow him rather than wait.

There are days when I wish I could do the same. Perhaps I shall, when the sun has burned cold and the moon has ceased to wander. Until then I choose to remember them both. To remember him, who changed everything I knew and made me complete, and who would encourage me to see the blessing I now hold: That I shall see the future. And I shall carry his memory into it.

Twilight Sparkle
15th May, 1418

Author's Note

This was originally going to be attached to the end of The Xenophile's Guide once I hit a point where I couldn't go any further, but then, after careful consultation with a test audience consisting of me, AnonAuthor and a bottle of cheap hooch, I realised it would be so gut-crushingly depressing that it would ruin the rest of the work completely. So here it is instead.

The beginning of all things: A Zebra myth

This was originally written as an entry for the Worldbuilding Alliance's January writing context, but I missed the deadline and never finished it. I got all this down on the plane from Stockholm to Manchester. Gotta love those long dull flights...

A fire burned dull in its pit, the sky above it filled with swarming, swirling embers that carried the sent of arama root roasting over the gently glowing wood. Darkness stretched away in every direction, overwatched by the bright half moon that filled the land with black, stretching shadows against the dark ground, leaving only a tiny circle of light around the fire. The light was enough that Sonwabile could see the fire, the stick beneath his hooves and the hooves of his cousin Lubabalo to the right, but little more.

He poked at the fire, raising a fresh stream of embers and momentarily raising the light around. Two more Zebra sat across from him, both watching the fire with complacent eyes, as they had done every night on this journey into the wilderness. This soul journey.

The larger of the two stirred and tilted his head and gestured at the rowning roots. "Be careful with the flame, Sonwabile. They will burn if you rush them."

"They burn all they want anyway," the other Zebra replied from the shadow. he leaned forward in the light, a wizened face leering at Sonwabile, made hideous by the flickering orange light. "You worry too much Mkhokeli. You see danger in everything."

"Is it not my chosen course, Sidima? Did not my journey bring me that responsibility with my name?"

"Your journey? Hah." Sidima kicked at the loose soil before the fire, scattering it into the flames with a loud hiss. "Your path is chosen by your spirit. The journey simply shows you what your heart already knows."

"That I was a leader."

"That you were a worrying mare, Mkhokeli! I remember your birth name, Thukile. Your dam held you to the sky when you were born and said you beheld the world with the shock of one who would never be at peace until he had ordered every last grain of sand. So Thukile you were, and Thukile you are!"

The old stallion laughed and kicked the dirt again, to Mkhokeli's disgust. He snorted and tugged at a water skin around his neck. "You scatter dirt on our food, old one."

"Like I said. Besides, it adds flavour. Doesn't it, Sonwabile?"

The colt glanced at his cousin and then Mkhokeli. He shrugged. "I have no idea. Dirt was not something I ever chose to eat."

"You'll eat plenty of it by the time you're my age, young colt. Dirt is good. It's healthy!" He kicked at the dirt a third time, scattering it far and wide and laughed raucously. "Dirt. Heh."

"The soil is our life," Lwazi said quietly. "It is not seemly to disrespect it so."

"Hah! Hark at him, so soon after his tribe mark appears and he's already setting himself up as the keeper. Lwazi, your name was well chosen. You should keep it."

Lwazi shifted uncomfortably, though his face didn't show it. He looked away toward the dark horizon and refused to meet Sidima's eyes. "I would be a warrior, as are my uncles and my sister."

"Would you now? Then still you are well-named, if you know what you are to be so easily. What else do you know? Tell us a story boy, while we wait for these roots to burn and ruin in the fire." Sidima nudged Mkhokeli and nodded at the flames. "You can keep watch if you like."

Mkhokeli raised his chin and deliberately looked away from the flame, prompting another gurgling laugh from Sidima. The old stallion stomped the ground and laughed again as Mkhokeli closed his eyes.

"Old one, you should set a better example."

"Why should I? They're not going to be my herdcolts! If anything they'll be yours, oh leader of the clans, which means it's my duty to ruin them completely before they become as stuffy and uptight as you." He laughed again, nudging the younger stallion in his side and casting exaggerated, knowing looks at the two cousins. When Mkhokeli refused to rise to his bait Sidima sighed, shaking his head, and shuffled toward the fire. "Tell us your story, Lwazi."

"I- I don't know which-"

"How about the story of Savuri and the bull?"

"Oh you would like that one, you dirty old goat," Mkhokeli shot back. Sidima laughed again, rocking back on his haunches. Lwazi blushed and looked away. The story wasn't as lewd as he seemed to think, but perhaps he was just embarrassed for not knowing it. Or perhaps he'd heard a version Sonwabile hadn't.

"You want a story to tell," Sidima said quietly, "you could always tell the one about the Celestian and the Zebra."

"That's no story! That's your dirty lust after that foreign Star-witch!"

More laughter rolled about the fire as they remembered the tale Sidima had spun about a pony he'd met in his youth. The "Star-witch" with her two stone-like hooves that could crush a stallion's life from his body, and the Halflight One, with the tongue like a scorpion's tail and eyes like the sky. As Sidima told it, he'd seduced the Celestians the first day they had arrived and several times thereafter, earning their undying love and gratitude, for Celestians were said to be never satisfied by their mates. But as Mkhokeli described it later, Sidima had followed the pair like a starving jackal and suffered the lash of their tongue more than any others of the tribe.

Sonwabile poked at the fire again, careful to avoid raising another round of embers. "What about the story of Madoda?"

Sidima rocked back again and grinned. He contemplated Lwazi for a moment, eyes roving over the reluctant colt's face. "Yes, what about it? Any knower or priest worth his feed sould know the story of Madoda."

"I told you, old goat, I am to be a warrior, like-"

"Yes yes," Sidima said, waving his hoof. "Just tell the story. And make it good, I've not heard this one told well for years."

Lwazi huffed and sighed. "Very well. Madoda."

"Don't leave out the part with the-" A glance from Lwani cut off Sidima's demand. He chuckled and bowed his head.

"Madoda," Lwani repeated, as the fire cast its embers to the sky once again. He looked up to the stars and took a breath.

* * *

At the beginning of all things, the plains were empty and nothing grew, except the old Baobab in the middle of a great empty valley.

[ and then some shit happened and the world was made ]

* * *

"Well?"

Lwani looked around the fire. His face was a little flushed and his eyes seemed to be watering, but he had a triumphant grin in his face. He shared it with Sonwabile and then looked at Mkhokeli for the elder's approval. The Stallion nodded stiffly and cast an uncomfortable glance to his side.

"It was good. Well spoken."

Lwani smiled again. "My thanks. Perhaps I-"

A snore interrupted him. All three looked to Mkhokeli's side, where Sidima rocked gently on his haunches, his head nodding to a rhythm all of its own as his body fought the urge to fall forward. It lost. Slowly, almost magically, Sidima slid forward until he flopped to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. He snored again.

"Old goat," Mkhokeli grunted, but he was smiling again.

Sonwabile couldn't help chuckling at the sight either, until a peculiar sent reached his nose. It seemed to reach Mkhokeli's at the same time; his eyes darted to the fire just as Sonwabile yanked away the spited roots. The colt held the spit up and sighed.

"I told you," Mkhokeli said. And the he laughed and tugged one of the roots free with his teeth.

The Book of Sundering, Chapter 6, verses 12 and 13

¹²And Celestia said unto Her Sister, who had taken the form of Darkness and who had riven the lands under her mighty power, 'now thou art banished from this land, and thou shalt be taken unto the darkness in which thou dwellst, for thy jealousy has darkened thy soul and thou art forsaken. Never shall I turn my face to thee, nor shall I look upon thee, except thou art darkened and hidden away, until the end of the age and ages to come; and thy face shall be hidden to all that dwell in My day, and ever shalt thou dwell within the night thou sought to cast upon the face of all the earth.'
¹³ And so did Celestia banish her sister to the face of the moon; and I saw those dreadful days and the torments sent forth upon this earth. And lo, Celestia spake unto me, saying 'Mine own flesh has departed from amongst us and is no more, and mine countenance shall not look upon hers until the end of the ages and the age to come. Let not her name be spoke, nor shall her name be upon any lips until these things come to pass.'

Author's Note

The inspiration

Excerpts from Selene Upon the Mount

Excerpts from Selene Upon the Mount

Then taking up my father's blades
Seeking not a blessing
I set my face toward her moon
And sought the place that she did dwell
Selene, the beauty of the night
Selene, my fairest one

A' the air and mountain free I ran
By forest, glen and river
To see at last the fairest one
The lady on the mount of old
Selene, oh filly bright and fair
Selene my dearest love

Yet from my hooves she took to flight
Across the great wide valley
Her voice then raised in cheery taunt
Thou canst but chase and never hold
Selene, thy sole desire
Selene, thy heart's true love

Then so chase did I my fairest one
'Cross glowing golden meadow
And thrashing rivers, to the sea
Forsaking all to follow her
Selene, my path, my only way
Selene, my only way

There stood a mount, a towering peak
'pon which I found her waiting
She lead me there and called to me
My love, thy heart has conquered now
Selene, the goddess of this place
Selene, your only love

Author's Note

Believe it or not, the song in this chapter of And The Stars Shine Forth has more to it than just that little bit Luna sings. Obviously I haven't written the whole thing but I thought it'd be nice to show you a few parts of it.

Bet you thought I just made it up on the spot didn'tcha.

An inscription on a pedestal

Sometimes to get a little realism in a piece of art you have to create a far bigger picture than you end up using (in a metaphorical sense as well as a literal one). They call it worldbuilding. There's an inscription in this ask blog that was added for a little bit of fanciness, but I wrote a lot more than was actually included in the image because, well, I'm like that.

And now here it is. Because yay!

Originally it would have been in Latin, but the wife was busy.

To the glory of Celestia, Almighty, Victorious, Quencher of Discord, Bearer of the Solar Orb, Ever Undimmed, Light of Life, Eternal Source of All Things, Saviour of Equestria, who vanquished Chaos and Despair, who brought Harmony upon our Tribes, who United our Lands, who Sealed and Set our Borders, who brought unto us Safety and Prosperity, who Ended all Suffering and Strife, who Deposed the Kings of Old and restored Justice, who Freed the Moon and Stars, who brought forth Light in Darkness, all Praise be upon her, all Adoration unto her, let her Light Shine upon us, let her Mercy rest upon our Backs, let us Honour and Praise her, Behold her Might and Power, her Glory and Strength, Behold her Beauty and Wisdom in all things, Behold all that She has done, let her Glory be written upon the Stars, let her Law be written on the Sun and Moon, let her Will be written on the Earth, let not her Burden fall upon us and may She reign from now until the End of all Things.

The Student, The Teacher, The Skyward Reacher (TwilightxDerpyxCheerilee; or Cheery Delight)

Feathers, Twilight found, were difficult to deal with.

"Lift the forearm and extend the wrist..."

Wings in general, in fact.

"Press forward and the alulae extends naturally from the carpal edge."

She'd learned to fly quite quickly after her ascension. Rainbow Dash had been an immense help to begin with, but after a few weeks she'd realised that Twilight's ambitions were not nearly as competitive as Rainbow's own, and the lessons had tailed off.

"Extend the wrist and the primaries splay. Good. Now bring the wrist toward your shoulder."

Fluttershy had stepped in, for a while, but her teaching methods left a lot to be desired, and after a single day and another week of profuse apologies, Twilight had been forced to return to her own tried and tested methods: books.

"Now extend the full wing again."

It had gone about as well as could be expected.

"Ow!" Twilight winced and glared at into the mismatched eyes of her impromptu physiotherapist. "That felt like I was jamming a knitting needle into my shoulder."

"It's meant to feel like that," Derpy replied. "Trust me. I know."

The fall hadn't been unexpected. Twilight had tried napping on a cloud – Celestia alone knew why – misjudged how much she rolled around in her sleep, and had taken an inevitable plunge into the lake below. That in itself wouldn't have been a problem if only she hadn't woken up and instinctively flared her wings right when she hit the water, and thus introduced herself to the unique experience of pain in a place that had never before felt it.

"Your range of motion has improved," Derpy said, lifting her own wings for emphasis. She tapped her wrists to the sides of her head and grinned. "If you keep it up you'll be back in the air in no time!"

"Great."

You

It is eyes that endure in memory.

The pain in them, yes, but the coldness. The anguish, but the distance. You hide your feelings so well, behind masks more complete than any a pony might wear to the endless masquerades over which you preside so often these days. The old poet was wrong when he said eyes are the window to the soul, but your eyes... who could forget them, that night?

Moments before you had lain, defeated and broken, in the ruins of the greatest city the world had known up to that day. The home you had made – and it was most definitely you who made it. No one else could claim that. Not even—

You were defeated. Beaten. For the briefest of moments – but a moment is all it takes in fairy tales and tall stories. There can be no recovery from that. Not even a thousand years grants recovery from that. The great leader, the great warrior you appeared to be was an illusion. Cast down against the unyielding stone like the statues of tyrants, their feet picked through by hammers and chisels, their raised limbs and haughty heads shattered away, till nought but rubble lies where once they stood.

Upon thy works thou mighty look, and despair at all they stand for. Grand towering spires, slender frames of mgilt marble reaching toward the sun, the sky, the stars.

The moon.

Each new tower built upon the last, each seeking something you can't even understand. Each trying to restore the heights to which you once rose, the image of godhood that was torn asunder that day, when you were beaten. And thought for only a moment, you were beaten. You, the unbreakable, eternal light, were snuffed out by night's fall. For a moment. A single, terrible moment you fell. For the love of a sister, you fell.

What did it gain to be so broken?

You carry that pain still in your eyes, in your heart, even after so many years that should have dulled that raw edge, but only left it scarred and livid beneath a silken, placid surface. Eyes that watch, eyes that seek solace, eyes that look to the horizon each day. Eyes that weep invisible tears for the life thrown aside.

You know now, you know how different things might have been. As well as you hide it, you know. How might you have lived, had you only seen ought but brute strength and violence, had your love not blinded you to subtlety, to guile, to cunning. The diplomacy for which you were so famed had failed you then.

Does it fail you now?

Does history repeat?

Do you fall again?

Your strength falters; so much is clear from your downcast eyes, your wilting pose. You remember that night too well. You remember that you fell.

For a moment, you fell.

A moment is all it takes.

Author's Note

An exercise.

Loop

Falling.

Energy pummeled at her mind, her body, tearing at her soul. Fire. Light.

She was falling, but...

Light. It had been so dark for so long, she had forgotten the touch of light. The smell of it, if that could be believed. The taste. The sound.

Was it her, screaming obscenity to the maelstrom of light and shadow? She had felt it before, but then it had been crushing inward, caressing her, surrounding her. She had thought it a protection at first. And yet...

Silence. She had not known silence for so long that it was as a cacophony in her ears. The thundering, rushing thump of her heart, the godstuff coursing her veins roaring like fire. She could feel the heat of her flesh, the expansive pressure of breath in her lungs. The stretching tightness of her body, so confining. So small.

So vulnerable.

"We were meant to rule together, little sister."

She looked up. Up. Far up. Celestia towered across the shattered ruins of the great hall's vaulted roof, smiling benevolently when only moments before she had been wracked by terror and determination, and shame.

The falling sensation didn't leave her, though she could feel the icy cold of stone beneath her prone body. She looked about, trying to find her place, trying to understand. Ruined walls, the stink of centuries of rot and decay, the screech of wildlife. Her heart pounded. The light blinded her.

There were others here, whispering away. Orange, white, pink...

And then that mane, and those eyes, and that shy, innocent smile. Celestia was speaking again, but her words fell on ears that strained to hear other words spoken by another voice, that Luna had thought lost to her forever.

Author's Note

This was the start of a somewhat convoluted predestination paradox story. Before her fall, Luna had been romanced by an alicorn from the future, no less than Twilight Sparkle, who she finds on her return to be a mere unicorn. She sets about romancing her, but at some point has to leave (either dying or advancing to some higher plane of existence), whereupon she confesses to Twilight that she had loved her for centuries. Twilight then returns to the past to pursue her relationship with Luna in turn.

I liked the intro but I never got more written.