Chapters From the Desk of Twilight Sparkle
The Lavender Letter
Dear Princess Celestia,
There's something I need to tell you.
I know we're going to be seeing each other in Canterlot in only a few days, so I could easily just bring this up then, as it's not a terribly time-sensitive thing...but I've had a moment of particular lucidity just now. Enough so, at least, to admit to myself that being faced with the idea of speaking about this in person will scare me silent—as it has once before.
I told myself then that I had time to hesitate and delay, and, well, I wasn't exactly wrong, either. And that hasn't changed, so...I'd just end up doing the same thing again.
So I'm writing a letter, allowing myself the time to think and choose my words that paper grants, with a little side of temporal and spatial distance giving me the (logically nonexistent) feeling of safety I need to write with complete honesty.
And since I've stalled for almost the entire first page now, I'll get started.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I know, I know, you're so surprised, right? And that's fair, really, given that yes, I do a lot of thinking most of the time. I very rarely think about this, though.
As a point of fact, I've realized that increasingly, especially over recent months, I've made a habit out of not thinking about this.
Well, I'll just lay it out procedurally. It's easy to stay focused if I put my thoughts into a list, you understand.
The first time I thought about it was in the days following the royal wedding. Back in Ponyville, after the glow (and adrenaline) had faded, I was just re-sorting the library shelves like I do every second week.
And I suddenly started thinking about the wedding, how happy my brother and Cadence were—how they had a love strong enough to save Canterlot when all hope seemed lost. And from The Beginner's Guide to Spellcasting all the way through to Seven Equestrian Epics: Pinnacles of Pony Poetry...I just couldn't keep my mind from wandering.
I wondered if I would have a moment like that someday.
Of course, I realized then, as now, that I'm hardly the only pony who did. Rarity and her mad dive for the bridal bouquet continues to live in something resembling infamy.
...Anyway, it occupied my thoughts for that morning, but was content to pass out of mind thereafter.
Until four months later, when Fluttershy and Big McIntosh (Applejack's brother, you recall of course) began seeing each other. Well, romantically seeing each other, that is. I mean, they started dating.
I was, and remain, happy for the both of them, but it did stir a spark of melancholy in the back of my mind. Those thoughts from the not-terribly-distant past came back to me, and behind my smile, I wondered when—if?—I would have somepony like that.
It only held my focus for the one day, though. I wasn't exactly getting old and gray, after all, so I put such concerns aside for time to worry about in my stead.
And it did, quietly and contently, for much the rest of the year, until the Grand Galloping Gala. (Thank you again for the invitations—I can't imagine securing our repeat appearance was entirely easy.)
I remember that night very vividly, so I think I'll retell it.
I'm sure you saw Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie glued to each other for much of the evening, but it was the way that it happened that sticks with me. Rainbow, being Rainbow, was taking every opportunity to rub pinions with the Wonderbolts, building on her graduation from their training academy. In particular, she was spending a lot of time 'talking shop' with Captain Spitfire.
We all noticed relatively quickly that Pinkie seemed...distracted? No, perhaps 'fixated' is more accurate. She was all smiles and bubbly laughter when we were around her, and brushed us off when we asked if anything was wrong, but...we've all known her long enough to have learned how to catch glimpses of what she's really feeling.
In those moments, she was always staring at Rainbow Dash and Spitfire, and she always had a distant, forlorn look in her eyes. None of us really knew what to do or say about it. Well, except the one of us who always does at times like those.
"You're going to lose her if you don't tell her," Rarity said to Pinkie, like it was the most casual thing in the world. Which, in retrospect, was exactly how she needed to say it, wasn't it?
"But what if she doesn't like me back?" Pinkie asked, her voice soft and trembling.
"Then you do a lot of crying, and things are a little awkward for a while," Rarity answered plainly, sipping at her levitated glass of punch. "Then you move on, and go back to being friends. And Pinkie, dear, do remember? That is the worst that can happen. There are all manner of better outcomes—but they all require that you take the chance. Now go on! We're all rooting for you."
And she was right, we were. All of us watched as Pinkie walked across the hall, pulled Rainbow Dash away from Spitfire with a friendly smile, led her to a quieter corner of the room, and told her biggest secret.
And we saw her jaw drop and eyes go wide, and we were shocked right along with her, and then she was confused, and so were we, and then Rainbow Dash smiled that overconfident smile of hers, and leaned in to give Pinkie a long, close nuzzle, and we all nearly burst into cheers.
I think you would have been cheering with us, Princess, if in secret, had you not been stuck greeting the late arrivals for that half of the ball...
Well, anyway. Rainbow and Pinkie were a matched pair for the rest of the night. But the bigger story is that it didn't end with them.
After our little group cheer, Big Mac pulled Fluttershy away for a dance, leaving Applejack, Rarity, and me to our lively gossip. Applejack had not even suspected Pinkie's feelings, while Rarity casually told us that she'd known for months. "You can't say you're surprised," she said, "that a pony as socially conscious as I noticed the spark of romance so easily."
And then she had the most unexpected expression—in hindsight, I'd call it 'resolution', but then hindsight is good that way. Regardless, she proceeded to drain the rest of her punch in a single tipping. "...And on that note, I think I shall step out to the gardens for some air," she said in that easy, aloof tone (you know the one). But then: "Oh, and Applejack?" she said, in that same casual way she'd spoken to Pinkie, but then she turned and looked AJ right in the eyes, and said very deliberately: "If you don't tell her, you're going to lose her."
And then she smiled, and trotted off to the west gardens, leaving a pair of dumbstruck ponies in her wake.
I'll admit it plainly. As Rarity walked away, my first conclusion was that she had left me and Applejack alone, after having just said...well.
I only panicked a little. Only until I got the courage up to look at Applejack, and then saw her staring off after Rarity, even more stunned than I was, and it wasn't too hard to put it together.
“Well, go after her. I’m rooting for you,” I told her, with as much smile as I could muster.
"Thanks, Twilight. I...I think I'll do that," she replied, nervousness thick in her voice, but I could see her eyes sparkling with sudden hopes. I couldn't help but be happy for her.
When we all met up after the Gala, Rarity would regale us about how she'd been waiting for weeks for Applejack to get the nerve to say something, because 'a lady needs to be approached'. Ah, Rarity.
But back in the moment, when Applejack went after her to the gardens, I found myself left with the realization that I was suddenly the only one alone.
That time, it stuck in the back of my mind for days. I...may have cried a little, just once, when I couldn't get out of my head that all of my friends now had special someponies, and I was the only one who didn't.
Oh, and on that note, what about Spike? Well, you remember my letters from last year—he and Sweetie Belle are now...if not quite dating? They're still a little young for that, perhaps, but these days, no one's pretending it won't happen. It's adorable more than anything, really.
But, back on point. My being the odd mare out stuck with me for some time, and even when it faded...it never quite went as far away as it had before. It couldn't, really; Fluttershy was already spending a fair amount of time with Big McIntosh, and following the Gala, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, and Applejack and Rarity, started, well, taking personal time as couples. I never begrudged them it, of course—how could I?
Still, it meant that I had quite a bit more time to myself, and as you know, Princess, time to myself is time I spend thinking. Some of that time, my mind drifted back to memories of that moment at the Gala, after Rarity walked away, when I thought...
No, no, I'm not just going to trail off and leave it unwritten. I thought that it could have been me.
I panicked at the time, sure, and had Applejack actually turned to me, I have no idea what I would have said or done, but, well, I don't really think about Applejack when I remember that moment. I just remember the simple feeling—the sudden realization that somepony likes me? Could be in love, with me?
You know me well, Princess. I'd say at least as well as I know myself—possibly better, with your gifts of insight and experience—so you know that I've spared the subject so little thought as much out of nervous hesitance as legitimate disinterest. But over the past two years, I've found it increasingly hard to ignore.
Maybe I'm just growing up?
Kidding, kidding! I still remember our promise never to do anything that silly. Ah, but for those halcyon days...uh, is it bad that I'm just now looking back on my fillyhood with such rosy nostalgia?
Well, anyway, now that I've exhausted that tangent. After the Gala, I spent more time thinking about romance. Having a special somepony of my own. Not all that much time, all things considered, but still, more than I had ever previously. It was a growing portion of my schedule, loathe as I was to admit that to myself.
Until Fluttershy got engaged.
You remember that letter, I have no doubt. I made a point of writing it such as to express my boundless happiness and excitement for her, and in so doing likely made plain to see how much I hurt at the time.
It's been a long stretch of months since then, and yes, I'm fine. It took a few weeks for me to work through, as I'm learning these things tend to, and my truly being excited and happy for her certainly helped.
(They still haven't set a date, by the way, but I expect it'll be sometime in the coming spring, if you want to ensure there's some flexibility in the royal schedule.)
That was the real tipping point, it's plain to see now. Not only was I the only one alone, but now one of my friends was starting to prepare for marriage. And while I may not be the peerless judge of relationships that Rarity is, I think I've learned and observed enough to say that the other four are going to get there. It may take a year or three, but barring some kind of wacky catastrophe, I'm inclined to call it a sure thing.
Very unscientific of me, laying such faith in an intrinsically unprovable hypothesis, isn't it?
I've been feeling very like that recently. Less satisfied with the status quo, the safe, secure, empirically reliable. Discontented with my life of cloistered study. Oh, and don't worry, I'm still a nice vibrant lavender, not turning all greyed out or anything.
Just...thinking.
I'm still doing just as much of that, Princess. Only now, about different things. Things that seemed silly, and a little foalish, and that weren't at all important to me even just a year or two ago...but now seem like some of the most vital things in all the world.
And as it tends to do, all that thinking has over time translated into more practical considerations. Hypotheses, testable theories, plans of action.
I spent one particular week agonizing quite a bit over one such idea. You remember, at the beginning of this letter, how I mentioned I had been scared silent once before?
It was this past Summer Sun Celebration. I had come to realize that for all the time I was spending thinking about all of these things, I had really been very silly—all those hours of thought over more than a year, and I hadn't thought to just ask you for advice. (The realization kind of snuck up on me, and I was so shocked by it that I spent an entire morning drinking the same long-empty cup of tea and re-reading chapter four of Arcane Science for the Growing Filly eleven times. You won't tell anyone, right?)
So, I resolved myself to make up for that, and put together a comprehensive, organized (and summarized) list of all my previous thoughts, ideas, and concerns, so that I could ask for just such advice once I was in Canterlot. It was a clear, straightforward, obvious means to the answers I needed. I still remember how great it felt to be running down those checklists, so completely sure I'd finally hit on exactly what I'd needed.
Until I started thinking about it.
That didn't actually really start until I was already on the train, halfway to Canterlot, the night before the Celebration. I had all my painstakingly collated notes—pared down to a neat sixteen pages—sitting there in my saddlebags, when a little idea in the back of my head started to bother me. So I took out those notes, and I looked over them all again.
That was the first time I really glimpsed the truth of things.
I was hardly sure, of course, but enough of an unknown had been introduced into the equation that, when we met the next day after the ceremony, I was far too hesitant to bring up what I had really wanted to talk about. I think you noticed that something was bothering me, but you've always been kind enough to give me time to work things out for myself when I need to. Thank you for that, by the way.
It's been a long stretch of weeks since then, with the passing of highsummer and autumn now settling in, and I've done plenty of thinking. Revised my notes, re-evaluated my theories, developed a slightly variant course of action. And now, perhaps to my detriment (but I don't think so), I'm writing you these letters so that I can't get all worked up about some last-minute wrinkle and back out again.
To that end, you will find enclosed within this one a second, sealed letter, that outlines my thoughts directly. I would ask that you refrain from reading that one until our meeting two days hence, when I can address any questions or concerns you may wish to raise about my conclusions.
Well, that about sums up my year's-worth of pent-up rambling. And...this should be an interesting weekend!
Your Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle
~~~~~
They walked into the solarium, where Celestia made her private study, surrounded by vibrant greenery under broad skylights of crystal glass.
"So, Twilight Sparkle. It's been quite some time since you've sent me six pages! I admit, I found myself waxing a touch nostalgic for your heady days of reports and essays written into the quiet hours past midnight."
The Princess laughed, warm and gentle as always, yet Twilight remained stoically silent, her eyes affixed to a scroll sitting upon the desk toward which she and the Princess drew. A simple letter, carefully inscribed onto parchment dyed to lavender, with the subtle crowning of 'From the desk of Twilight Sparkle'...
It was still sealed.
"Ah..." Celestia said quietly, lowering her head to Twilight's ear. "I managed to resist reading it in advance, though it was tempting to peek, just a little."
Yet still, not so much as a peep from the unicorn, to which the Princess could not help but be very curious indeed.
Such solemn resolution, my student. Or perhaps resignation? Just what is in that letter?
"Well then," Celestia continued, her voice still light and unconcerned. "Shall I get right into it, or would you prefer we pause for tea first?"
For some reason, that seemed to be what broke Twilight's silent resolve.
"It's...probably best that you read it now," the younger mare said in barely more than a whisper, her ears drooping precipitously, and her lips creased into a frail, conflicted smile.
"Twilight," Celestia said softly, her casually aloof royal court voice cast aside, "whatever it is that you're worried about, whatever it is that made you write an advance letter to force yourself to speak—I'm right here with you. And I'll help you through whatever troubles you may have."
And having now offered her student sincere words of comfort, while still composed on the surface, inwardly Celestia was confused to see Twilight grow even more worried and unsure. Why, she was starting to tear up!
So without even a moment's hesitation, the Princess dropped down to her knees beside her student, and leaned in to offer her a comforting nuzzle, like she had so often when Twilight had been a precocious filly scampering around the castle halls—
And Twilight nearly threw herself into a desperate, clinging hug, holding onto Celestia as though she were dear life itself.
...Almost as though she thinks it might be the last time.
Celestia began to have an idea of just what was in that letter.
~~~~~
Dearest Celestia,
There's something I need to tell you.
I'll try not to get sidetracked for six pages this time.
Over the past two years, in particular through recent months, I have given great thought to my studies of friendship, and of the things beyond it. I've been inordinately blessed to that end, really; I've had immediate access to field studies on three different couples, all comprised of ponies I know well, all of whom grew together under different circumstances.
It's been an enlightening bit of research.
Through my friends and their growing happiness, I've come to see and know about something I had never before considered seriously: love.
Oh, of course, I knew plenty of kinds already. The love of my family, the love between friends, and of course, the seemingly bottomless, unconditional love of a wonderful teacher, ever patient and boundlessly compassionate. But in this letter, I speak directly of romantic love: that profound, majestic bond that ties two ponies together for a lifetime.
I always shied away from love. When I was young, I was content to hide away with my books and spend my hours in study. Then, as I grew, you introduced me to the magic of friendship, and though at first I was hesitant and wary, I eventually came to know that kind of love, through my circle of friends and the Ponyville community. It wasn't easy at first, and I wonder if I would have ever chanced it myself without your encouragement.
I was afraid, of course. But you knew that.
I've come to know, and grow, much through friendship. And as I wrote above, recently, through those same friends, I have been given a clear vision of what lay beyond.
This was what I wanted to talk about during the Summer Sun Celebration, before my nerves got the best of me. So I stayed silent, and spent a few more months thinking on the subject myself, until I came to a conclusion—one that you would have made clear to me if I had asked, I think.
You helped me to understand the value and power of friendship, Celestia. But to step beyond friendship—to learn about that deeper love that I've now seen so clearly...
Well, I said I had something to tell you, and it's only taken me a page to get here. That's not too bad, really.
This next step in my studies, this next kind of love I want to learn about—it's something that I need to do on my own.
Accordingly, I am hereby resigning from my apprenticeship.
Now, please, don't call me over and try to change my mind, tempting as it may be. I've put weeks of careful thought into this, and difficult as it is, I have realized it to be the correct course.
And of course, this is in no way intended as any sort of slight against your teaching. I've treasured every moment, and I wouldn't take back a single day for all the world. This is just what I have to do.
So...now I'll tell you why.
(I do hope, a little selfishly, that we're somewhere fitting for this—the solarium, maybe? I expect it would be late morning, so the sun would be just starting to stream in through the crystal skylights. Well, so long as it's not the throne room or council chambers, anywhere is fine really...)
I've already learned my first lesson about romance: you have to take risks.
It was shown to me plainly at the Gala last year. Pinkie Pie was so worried that Rainbow Dash would turn her away that she waited in silence for months; Applejack would have done the same, had Rarity not essentially knocked her on the head with a giant "tell me" sign.
I didn't realize it at the time, of course; understanding came later, once I had the proper viewpoint.
Given how I'm about as intrinsically risk-averse a pony as you can find, you may understand why it's taken me this long to wrap my head around the idea. The thing that really sparked that, I mentioned in my other letter – again at the Gala, when Rarity walked off to the gardens, and for a moment I thought she had been talking about me.
I started out just wondering about the feeling, the idea of being loved like that. Tried it on, saw how it fit, you could say. I found, to my surprise, that I rather liked it.
All this was in those revised notes I talked about, the ones I was going to show you at the Celebration, until something caught my mind on the train.
That something was the other half of that idea – not simply being loved like that, but to love somepony like that myself.
I didn't really have any direct experience to work with...but I did have months of second-hoof observations to compare against, and an hour of quiet train ride to think over. So, I thought about that idea.
By the time I arrived in Canterlot, I had realized that I did have somepony that I loved like that—at least, I thought it was like that. It was hardly assured—viable hypothesis at best, further testing and data required, but it was enough to make me hesitate. I needed time to evaluate, and it was easy enough to tell myself that I had that time.
So, I've spent these past few months thinking about it; gathering data, testing, evaluating, turning that train ride hypothesis into a working theory that has informed my course of actions.
There was one last integral piece that completed the picture. Again, it was at the Gala—a veritable cornucopia of compiled conclusions, that turned out to be. Specifically, what Rarity said, that one sentence of just ten words, that sparked not one, but two romances:
'If you don't tell her, you're going to lose her'.
I had indeed learned that first lesson, but I hadn't ever expected to be taking a risk like this.
That would be why I wrote these letters in advance, because I can guarantee you that right this moment, I am absolutely terrified. I'll be sitting at a window, or on a balcony or such, looking at somewhere far away, thinking that I'm out there, to keep myself from running away from here.
It was easy enough to spot in hindsight, once I knew to look for it. The royal wedding, when Chrysalis defeated you in combat, cast you down with a blackened horn...
I knew it was plainly silly—and logically impossible—but I wanted to protect you. To jump between you and her, and drive her back through sheer defiant will.
It's sprouted and grown over these past years, and over the more recent months, as I've come to understand things better...it's really begun to bloom.
So that's why I've resigned from my apprenticeship.
I've fallen in love with you, Celestia.
I knew that I was falling long enough ago that I probably could have stopped it, if I'd so wished...but I didn't. I chose this, knowing full well what it would eventually mean. Because sometimes you need to wager what's safe and secure, risking your middling joy against the potential pain and despair of loss, for the chance of grasping that pinnacle happiness.
So, well, now that I've gone and jumped off the precipice, here's hoping you'll catch me.
With greatest sincerity and fondest hopes, Twilight Sparkle
~~~~~
Twilight was not in the solarium, staring out from the third-most distant from Celestia's desk of four windows on the south wall. In fact, Twilight was not even in Canterlot Keep. Nor even the greater city beyond.
Twilight Sparkle was in Ponyville. She was in her library, and it was a lovely, ordinary day, and she was reshelving her books as she did every two weeks.
She was up to G.
"Let's see: 'Gryphons: An (Abridged) Avian Account'..." she muttered quietly to no one in particular – she had the library to herself – as she took hold of the book in her magenta magical aura. She held it steady beside her as she scanned the shelves—she knew where it went, of course, but a librarian and scientist does not stay sharp by relying on assumption of previous facts.
"Here we are," she finally said, as her eyes fell upon its proper place. "Third case: History, fourth shelf up: Equinology, seventh alphabetical position." She slipped the book into place, nodding to herself in well-earned satisfaction.
She was practically flying through reshelving today! Why, at this rate—
"...Twilight?"
The lavender mare shook her head a few times; maybe she was trying a little too hard for that new reshelving record. She thought she'd just heard—
"Twilight."
Yes. Yes, definitely pushing too hard. Maybe a break was in order? Some nice lemon tea and a croissant, like she'd had earlier in the royal kitchens.
Wait, what?
Hadn't she been in Canterlot, visiting the princess? Why was she reshelving in—
Twilight Sparkle gasped and nearly sprang clean out of her purple coat as a wingtip gently prodded her in the side.
As she caught her breath again, she realized she was looking out a window...and there was Ponyville, far off in the distance. It wasn't clearly identifiable, but she easily enough spotted the tree that was her library based on the layout of the town, which itself was off to the south, judging by the position of the sun above and to her left—
I'm in the solarium, she realized, as her mind started turning again. What had that all been just then? Was she coming down with some kind of fever? Why had she—
"Sorry," said a gentle voice but a few hooves' breadths from her ear. "I didn't mean to startle you..."
Twilight turned and found Princess Celestia sitting next to her.
"But you seemed a touch...distant," the princess whispered with an apologetic smile. A smile Twilight would have seen, and been somewhat relieved by, but for her eyes being locked on a roll of lavender parchment resting at the princess' hooves.
Right, of course, the unicorn thought, the expected tone of abject terror notably absent. That's why I was off in the library reshelving. Coping mechanism.
"...Sorry," Twilight eventually managed, her voice strained. "I was shelving."
"Ah, so I was right," Celestia said with a giggle. "You were back in your library."
The unicorn glanced up briefly, catching a glimpse of Celestia's warm smile before she caught herself and tore her eyes away again. She couldn't look into those eyes, that had been so patient and forgiving all her life. To look into those eyes would break her, and so she locked hers on the source of her worry instead.
She read it, Twilight thought as she stared at the rolled-up letter placed before the princess. She read it, and now she knows everything.
A heavy silence had descended, and the long pause endured, pregnant with the lingering tension of unspoken hopes and fragile dreams.
"...So," Twilight eventually whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "Now you know."
"Yes." Celestia said, her voice similarly quieted. "Now I know."
So that's it then.
Celestia officially knew.
A second silence crept in and fell over the pair, but this one was, thankfully, far less oppressive. The hard part was over; the risk taken, the leap made.
"...You know, it's strange," the unicorn absently remarked, her eyes glazed over in thought. "It's like a great weight has lifted from me. Perhaps somewhat paradoxically, given that I haven't gotten any sort of answer, but in a way that doesn't matter. It's out of my hooves now. I'm simply awaiting judgement, and there's a sort of peace in that."
Twilight took a deep breath, and found herself smiling as she exhaled.
"...Though maybe that's just the adrenaline talking," she added, chuckling.
"There is likely that to consider, yes," Celestia replied softly.
"Well, that may be," Twilight continued, turning and matching her eyes to the princess' own. "But that has its advantages. For example: if it's to be one of the last things I may ever get to say to you...I love you, Celestia."
The princess had apparently not expected that. She already knew, yes, the letter had seen to that, but it had been written down there—not spoken aloud, not breathed into living truth. But now it had been, and Celestia's eyes were wide, and...
Twilight squinted a little for a better look, just to be sure, but against all expectations it seemed that yes, Princess Celestia was blushing.
It can't be, Twilight thought, incredulous. It's just—it can't be. ...Can it?
"...Twilight," Celestia began, her ever-strong voice turned soft and hesitant, as she knelt to bring her eyes level with the stunned unicorn.
Just four words, Twilight desperately prayed. Just four words, and everything will be perfect forever.
"Dearest Twilight...thank you," Celestia said with trembling warmth, her face straining to carry a fragile smile. For she knew, it was plain in her eyes.
Those were not the four words Twilight had hoped for.
They held there for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes, both hoping to see something that would tell them it would be alright.
Neither of them found it.
"...It's alright," Twilight lied, shattering the silence. "I understand. I knew going into this that it was a long shot."
The lavender mare stood, offering the still-silent Celestia a weak smile.
"Well, I should probably get back to..." She trailed off, lowering her head a moment to hide her eyes, and blinking a few times as she raised it to meet the princess' gaze again. "I can't—shouldn't stay, I think. That could be difficult."
She drew in a calming breath, nodding and forcing another weak smile to her face, before turning away from Celestia and looking to the solarium doors.
"We'll have to deal with some things. I've got some books the Royal Archive will want back once I've officially resigned, to start with. It'll, uh, probably take a while to deal with all of it. I'll—you should send a letter in a few days, maybe? ...Yeah. Letters should do fine."
Twilight started walking toward the doors.
Twilight started walking away from Celestia.
It wasn't that far to the doors, really; about sixteen steps or so? And she was already through six, seven, eight now—
"...Twilight," she heard Celestia whisper.
No, she told herself immediately. Don't you dare look back.
Eleven, twelve—
"Twilight?" she heard Celestia plead, and there really weren't any two ways about it.
If this is the last time we meet, she thought hard at herself, then I'm leaving her with a memory of quiet dignity, not a blubbering, sobbing mess.
Fifteen, sixteen; a hoof raised to the handle—
"I'm not saying no!"
The words themselves tempted Twilight to look back, but it was for the voice that had spoken them that she actually did. For there had been no princess in that voice.
Only Celestia, who she looked to now, the proffered hope holding back enough tears to risk a meeting of their eyes.
"I'm not saying no," Celestia softly said again, as though to ensure it had been heard.
"You're...you're not?" Twilight asked, hesitantly.
The princess shook her head, risking a gentle smile. "No, I'm not. I'm just..." She trailed off, pausing in thought, and her gentle smile turned apologetic. "I'm not saying yes, either."
Twilight drew her hoof from the door handle, and tentatively took a few steps back—but only a few.
"So what are you saying, Celestia?" she asked, with her eyes fixed to the floor just far enough in front of her that a white figure was visible in the periphery.
"I'm saying...that I need some time, Twilight," the princess responded, breathing a sigh as she directed her gaze through the nearby window, to the peaceful and sunny lands beyond. "You'll forgive me for not bursting into song, but suffice it to say I was not prepared for this."
The unicorn couldn't help but laugh a little at that, and, well...
"That's really pretty reasonable, given how long I spent doing the same," Twilight said quietly, and then, tentatively, "How long do you think you need?"
Celestia looked back from the window, favoring the lavender mare with a genuine smile. "Well—"
"Please don't say two months," the unicorn quickly added.
The princess laughed, shaking her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of two days. You're here for the weekend, Twilight, and...I promise you, before you depart, you will have my answer."
From the Desk of HSM Princess Celestia
The Lavender Letter
My Faithful Student Twilight Sparkle,
I suppose I shall begin with an apology, as I have no doubt that these past two days have been very taxing and worry-filled for you. Accordingly, I am sorry for that.
As I told you, I needed time to think; for if I am to be entirely honest, you managed to quite neatly catch me unprepared with your admission.
It occurs to me that you organized your own letter-bound concerns into a list for ease, and I think that I shall do the same, for you surprised me in more ways than one.
Let’s begin with the smallest and proceed from there, shall we?
The first way that you surprised me was in how you ended your second letter: “here’s hoping you’ll catch me”, you wrote, and I must confess that I found it very much unlike you.
Now, yes, I have noticed that you have taken to many things of late that could be described as ‘unlike you’, and that explains the first way those words surprised me. The second way, however?
Perhaps in your anxiousness you forgot, or perhaps faced with the weight of your actions you believed otherwise for a moment, but, well.
There are some things in the world that do not change. The sun and moon rise and set, my sister makes dramatic entrances to events, and I will always catch you, Twilight Sparkle. Nothing will ever change that.
With that addressed, let’s move to the second way you surprised me: your resignation.
It isn’t so much the fact that you’ve resigned that constitutes the surprise as such. I knew it to be inevitable that you would depart your apprenticeship—I would eventually ‘graduate you’, ideally, but you would depart nonetheless. And I had a fair idea of what the reasons behind such a departure could be, and yes, the growing importance of the pursuit of romance was one I considered.
You were also correct in your presumption that I would have advised you to such an action, had you asked such advice as you had intended at the recent Summer Sun Celebration, though I would perhaps have cautioned against...undue haste. Accordingly, what has surprised me is that you have made that resignation now. I rather wasn’t expecting this departure for another few years.
(It’s a rare thing for me to be caught out like that, you know, so do take pride in having managed to blindside me. It’s not easy to do these days!)
And, finally, the third and greatest way you surprised me.
When I sat down to read that lavender letter of yours, I suspected I was going to find a resignation in it, and I suspected that it was borne of the desire to pursue romance. Indeed, this is why I would have so advised you, as I mentioned above; for Twilight Sparkle to go chasing love, being the student and protégé of Her Esteemed Pedestal-Enshrinedness Princess Celestia is no small hindrance. Your distancing yourself from me would have been all but necessary, both for anypony to have the courage to approach you in the first place, and to further ensure that anypony who did so was not driven by the desire to curry favor or exploit your connections. Such is the price of position, as I’m certain you recall.
So, yes, I expected you to tell me you wanted to go chasing romance. I further expected, given your resignation being in that very letter, that you already had an intended to pursue.
I did not, however, expect that intended to be me.
(I said it was a rare thing for me to be blindsided, and to take pride in your accomplishment? I should really present you some sort of engraved plaque or such to commemorate this one. Two days, Twilight Sparkle; for twodays you knocked silly a princess of Equestria. Well done!)
Faced with such a plethora of unexpected complications, I unfortunately could offer you no better response than ‘I need time to think’, for it was the truth. And now I have had that time, and I have thought, and I thank you for your patience, as I know it has not been easy to give, especially taking in hoof what you’ve already offered me.
Accordingly, I, Princess Celestia of the Solar Throne, regent of Equestria, do hereby formally accept your resignation of apprenticeship, and release you from any responsibilities and obligations that may have been imposed upon you thereby.
Save for one.
I have enclosed within this letter another (it was a lovely idea I encountered recently). My final request to you, as my faithful student, is that you meet me in the solarium this evening, and that you read it only then.
With boundless pride and best wishes,
Your Mentor, Princess Celestia
~~~~~
Princess Luna hummed softly to herself as she strolled through the quiet halls of Canterlot Castle, a smile still tugging at her lips following her early dismissal, and thus escape , from court. It was something she wanted to do often enough—rosy nostalgia and a sense of purpose only allowed one to endure so many patronizing nobles—but rarely did she actually indulge the desire.
...Tonight was an exception.
As she walked the halls, between turns smiling at the guardsponies and offering pleasant greetings to the night staff, Luna was on the hunt. For she wasn't the only princess who had cut short her court that day; Celestia had also dismissed her Sunlight Court early that afternoon—hours in advance of its usual closing.
Thus after doing the same with her own Starlight Court—a rather less noteworthy event given the marked difference in attendant petitioners—Luna had made a quick visit to the royal archives, curious as to how long it had been since Celestia had last ended her court early. The answer to that question...concerned her.
If not for so long, sister, why now, the night princess caught herself thinking again, as she topped a wide staircase opening onto the fourth floor of the castle keep. Celestia had not been in her chambers, the first stop Luna had made only a few minutes into her search; nor had she been in her solarium study, the second likely place. Those had been followed by a lengthy stretch of scouring the castle library, but even that had, somewhat surprisingly, come up empty.
It had become apparent by then that her sister was clearly set on not being found, and so Luna was now ascending the long spiral staircase that wound its way up the interior of the tallest tower of Canterlot Castle: the royal observatory. It was a part of the castle that had seen comparatively little use over its history—until the arrival of a certain studious unicorn. Accordingly, when Luna mounted the final steps to the crowning observation balcony and found her sister, surrounded by parchment and staring at the distant stars, she had grasped a fair idea of just what—or rather, who—was on Celestia's mind.
Still, one did not simply waltz up to the Princess of the Eternal Sun and needle her about her personal concerns. There was a protocol to such things.
"So here you are," she said softly, taking a few leisurely steps to her sister's side. "What is it that's got you all locked up in contemplation tonight, sister?"
Celestia was quiet a long moment, only slightly turning her head to even acknowledge the younger princess. "...Twilight is in love with me," she finally answered, in a hushed tone.
Luna blinked a few times, arching a brow as her lips curled into a curious smile. "Really, Tia? Not even the faintest attempt at deflection?"
The elder sister appeared to consider a reply, but said nothing.
"...Well, alright," Luna said, a warm laugh behind her smile. "So, tell me something I don't know."
Celestia sighed. "Twilight told me she's in love with me."
An immediately fitting response eluded the night princess, and so a brief silence fell over them as she considered the turn of events.
"Oh my," she eventually mused, as she turned the revelation over in her mind. "Now this...this is anunforeseen development, isn't it? Much sooner than I thought, to be sure."
"Wait," Celestia said, turning to her sister. "You've been expecting this?"
"Of course I have," Luna replied flatly, peering at her sister a little skeptically. "You mean to tell me—oh. Oh dear. You had no idea."
"...None."
"Um, well...you do now?" Luna finally offered with a nervous chuckle.
The sun princess once more said nothing, her eyes again drifting out to the distant stars, while Luna's were eventually caught in a slightly more considered look at the nearby parchments—
Several of which bore the heading 'From the desk of Twilight Sparkle'.
"I take it, then, that somewhere in these pages, your student declared her intentions?" Luna asked, a touch of hesitance in her voice as her eyes returned to considering her sister's troubled countenance.
Celestia shut her eyes, hung her head, and breathed a deep sigh. "She did at that," she said wearily. "She offered her resignation—and the reason for it."
Still, as much as it was bearing down on her sister, Luna couldn't help but smile at the notion.
"It really is rather daring of her, though, isn't it? Well, at least if one presumes that she realizes..." She trailed off, the thought derailed by a little consideration. "Well, yes, of course she does. This is Twilight Sparkle; she would necessarily have considered the relevant complications in advance."
"She essentially said as much, yes," Celestia noted.
Luna pondered a moment, before slowly shaking her head. "More's the pity, really, that you have to turn her down."
To that, however...Celestia said nothing.
"You...are going to turn her down," Luna persisted.
The elder sister eventually turned, revealing a face bearing a conflicted mask of obvious worry framing a fragile smile.
"I...I don't know."
She doesn't know?
"Well, well, well," Luna said gleefully, as a wide cheshire grin spread across her face. "Somepony has managed to move the immutable heart of Celestia? How long has it been?"
The sun princess chuckled nervously, looking down at her shuffling hooves.
"A very long time," she whispered.
"Too long," Luna corrected, to which her sister sheepishly nodded.
And so, with the layer of ice over them now broken, Luna settled in and waited for her sister to air her concerns.
"I promised Twilight an answer before she leaves," Celestia eventually offered. "And that's tomorrow. I've been trying to decide for the past two days, and I just...can't make up my mind."
"I'm a little surprised," Luna said, smiling, "that she was willing to wait even that long, considering."
"She nearly didn't," Celestia replied quietly. "I was so surprised by her admission—I was stunned speechless. I don't even remember all that well the last time that happened! But I didn't say anything, and..."
The sun princess shook her head, her fragile smile wavering. "Twilight—dear, nervous, panic-inclined Twilight—took my silence to mean I was turning her away. And you know? She didn't get angry, or break down and cry. No, she was just worried about me seeing her be strong, for what might have been the last time."
Celestia raised her eyes, her tremulous, tear-lined eyes, to match Luna's own. "She accepted it with no small grace, you know. And then she smiled, and she turned and started walking away, and—" She sniffled, laughing bleakly as she dabbed at her eyes with a clumsy hoof. "And I realized I would never see her again, Luna, that if she walked out of that room she would be gone, and I screamed at myself to say something, to stop her, and...and it took me so much longer than it should have."
"But you did," Luna assured her sister softly, whisking away her tears with a magically procured hoofkerchief. "She didn't leave, and still hasn't."
"I know," Celestia blurted out between tearful laughs. "Bless her, she gave me time to decide, and it has to be excruciating for her to wait like this."
Luna wiped away a few more tears, wrapping her wings around her sister in a soothing embrace. Celestia quickly welcomed it, resting her head gently on the younger mare's shoulder.
"...Well," Luna said, beginning to organize her thoughts now that they were getting to, ahem, the heart of the matter , "it seems to me, Celestia, that the very fact that there is a consideration of accepting Twilight's feelings at all speaks volumes, given the manifold opposing factors."
"It does, I know," the sun princess quietly replied, "but that alone is not enough. Not for this."
"There is also the eminently clear importance she holds to you," Luna continued, "given that you've dismissed your court early for the first time in three hundred and twelve years—I checked the archives. And, oh, also this little bit about how you've been reduced to the state of a sobbing filly by the prospect of losing her?"
Drawing back from their hug, Luna matched her eyes to those of her sister.
"You ought to admit it," she said, gently. "You love her."
"I do. I have for years," Celestia said bluntly. "Just...not like that."
"Not like that yet," Luna corrected her softly. "You'll forgive me if I don't find the idea such a dreadful leap."
Now, she expected her sister to be rather intent on replying to so blatant a statement as that, but it seemed that the words just weren't there...
Or perhaps they are, but you are hesitant to speak them? Well, that's alright, Celestia. Twilight provided a way around that, did she not?
"...Now then," Luna said, preparing to lay out the conclusion, "given my particular history, you may or may not agree that I am especially well-suited to advising you on such a decision as this. But since the greatest value of advice is in convincing one to do what they have decided to do already..."
She paused, and pondered for a moment.
"Now did you say that, or did I read it somewhere...? Well, regardless, the truth of it stands evident. With all these things in hoof: Celestia?"
An indigo aura of magic enveloped some blank parchment and a red feather quill, presenting them to the sun princess.
"I would suggest that you have a letter to write."
Celestia eventually took hesitant hold of the items, glancing to Luna.
"...You're not wrong," Celestia said as she considered the page before her. "That I'm thinking about this so seriously at all...and Twilight is very dear to me."
She tentatively opened the nearby ink bottle, dipping her quill and setting it cautiously to the parchment.
Dearest Twilight, she wrote...and then paused again.
"But am I just thinking like this because I'm afraid of losing her?" she continued, turning to her sister. "I could not bear such selfishness."
"Celestia. Twilight made her feelings on the matter entirely clear," Luna countered. "And besides...are you not due a little selfishness after this long?"
The elder princess took a few deep, calming breaths, which the younger recognized as her calling upon a practiced meditation to center herself.
"Perhaps," Celestia said quietly. "But I cannot allow this decision to be made simply by my fear of loss."
Luna thought a moment, and parted her lips to speak...but Celestia had put quill to parchment now, and her expression spoke plainly to the finality of the words.
“I’ll...leave you to it,” the younger princess said with a quiet nod, then departing the tower balcony to leave Celestia with her thoughts.
She only prayed that her sister had made the right decision.
~~~~~
Dearest Twilight,
There’s something I need to tell you.
(I couldn’t resist.)
But more seriously...I owe you a proper answer, don’t I? I shall endeavour not to take too many pages to arrive there. I don’t mean to tease—well, not too much—but there are a few things I would like to lay out before we get to that. Do please resist your (understandable) temptation to skip to the end of the letter.
Actually, I’ll enchant a time delay on the last page, just to be sure.
Now then:
Twilight, I have not been so...so unabashedly flattered, in a very, very long time, as I have these past two days. As I was at that moment, when I reached the end of that letter. I read it twice, that last part, just to be sure.
It’s not something I talk about, my love life, as you may understand—but I’m going to now. Accordingly, I would appreciate if nopony else—in particular my sister—ever came to know this letter exists. (It’s nice to dream, isn’t it? Luna probably already has a copy somewhere.)
So, rather than patter about for a page, I think I shall get right into it.
I have not had a romantic partner in over four hundred years. Not for the lack of suitors...well, except this century—this century has been pretty dry. But recent years aside, historically speaking I would typically be approached by a pony or two every decade. The majority of them would be attempts to arrange political unions of a sort, consolidation of noble houses, on the rare occasion a blatant attempt to marry into power.
The most recent of those was, oh, two hundred and seventy or so years ago? It was very refreshing, actually; it was a pegasus stallion who came to court and requested a private audience, wherein he straightforwardly outlined his desire to marry me for social and political gain. Oh, and it also didn’t hurt that I was ‘a hell of a looker who would never get old’.
Oh, I had a good laugh that day. I turned him down, of course; tempting as it was to turn the entire nobility on its head, the scandal would have endured for far longer than the amusement.
I did induct him into the royal guard, though. Knighted him, made him a captain, gave him a division. He ended up being one of the greatest soldiers I ever had. He would always be direct and honest with me; it was such a nice thing.
Well then, there’s one tangent down.
Back to point...the last time I had a romance, Twilight, was four hundred and thirty years ago. She was a lovely earth pony—she played the harp magnificently. So well, in fact, that after hearing her play in the Keep Square just once, I asked her if she would teach me.
She didn’t faint on the spot. I think I starting growing fond of her right then.
We met every month for two years, spending an entire day out in the west gardens with the sun, wind, and a pair of golden harps. She was shy and reserved around me, like most ponies are, except for when we sat down at our instruments. The strings brought her to life, and when we played, I often felt rather unsure of myself in comparison to how her hooves danced across the strings, weaving with ease such heartfelt music.
She was a skilled teacher, as well, and after those two years, I was accredited as a master harpist by the Canterlot Symphony. I was still pale in comparison to my dear Wisteria. I haven’t mentioned her name before now, have I? Wisteria Heartstrings. She was named for her unexpected color: a soft, powdery violet, and so bright it turned to silver under the moonlight.
We met monthly for two years, as I said, until one perfect april morning. We began with breakfast, lovely honey toasts and orange tea, and then we went out to the gardens with our harps. Rather than progress into practice and a lesson, though...Wisty asked me to just listen, for she had a piece she wanted me to hear.
So I listened, and she played, and I wept for the soulful melancholy that echoed from her strings. She wove together haunting melodies, music that spoke of great longing, and resigned hopes, and distant vision of what was wished to be.
It was absolutely beautiful, and I lamented that I could do no more than say as much. But she was glad, she told me, for she worried it may be the last piece she ever played for me. Shocked, I asked why this could be, and she told me that she did not know if we would meet again after that morning.
For she had fallen in love with me, she told me, her gaze deep and sincere.
She told me of her joy at meeting me, that day in the city square, and how it humbled her that I asked her to teach; how she was so happy to find that I was as deeply moved by music as she; how amazed she was with my growth as a harpist, and how she eventually came to look forward to simply playing in duet on those weekend days. She told me of how she came to so treasure those meetings, and how distance came to inspire a growing fondness that took hold of her heart...
And I’m sure she would have told me many other things, desperate to prolong the moment, fearful of letting me speak for what I might say, that I might send her away for her daring. So I said nothing, but rather simply went to her, and kissed her instead.
She was quiet after that, and there were some tears, but it was alright. They were the happy kind.
We spent much time together following that day in the gardens, and we spoke of many things—the sorts of things that one needs to speak of, when one aspires to romance with a princess. But dear Wisteria...she was courageous, and she dared the storm for me, and it made me want to play music.
So over the next few years, we would go out into the city, or to the theater houses, and Wisty and I would play our harps. The audiences were gracious, and we were happy—but it was always most special in the gardens, in the quiet mornings, just the two of us.
She stayed with me for eight years. Even today, I bless her for enduring that long.
It wasn’t easy for her, like it was for me. Nopony would ever dare say a thing to me about who I associate with, and much as I wanted to, I could not have her at my side all the time. There were those who disapproved, those who craved influence, even those who wished to strike at me but hadn’t the bravery to do so honestly. They all set eyes upon my Wisteria, and schemed to make her a pawn in their games of power. She told me of such things, yes, as she was not so silly as to try to spare me from that, and so I was able to...address some of it, but, well.
It has been said that I blaze very brightly, and that a pony can only stand close to me for so long before they are burned. And while I may disagree with the statement as an axiom...it rings true in this case.
It took eight years, but Wisteria eventually got burned one time too many.
She loved me, she said, she loved me so very dearly...but she could not endure any more. She hated the very idea of leaving, but the world of court was poisonous at near every turn, and it was killing her.
I wanted to selfishly protest, to tell her I could somehow make it better...to beg her to stay. But I knew the truth of her words all too well, for she was not the first pony I had lost to such things. And so I bid her to go from me, from Canterlot, to be free and find another happiness.
She was quiet after that, and there were some tears, but it was alright. Even though they weren’t the happy kind.
We kept in touch through letters, quietly, discretely, so that those who haunted her steps around me would not follow her away, and for a time, it was enough. I even slipped away a few times—a weekend here, a summer retreat there—and she was overjoyed to see me. I was silly enough to think it could go on that way, for a little while. And, well, for a little while it did.
But eventually the secret visits grew sparse; business at court kept me bound a few weeks longer, a border crisis cancelled holiday plans.
Three years after she departed Canterlot, the letter I silently dreaded was waiting on my desk.
She had met someone, she wrote, and they had stirred her heart.
That wasn't what hurt, though. It was that most of the letter was her telling me she was sorry to have done so. And at the end...she asked for my blessing.
It was then that I realized that I wasn't her Celestia any longer—that I had not been for a long time. That I was just her princess, like in those days before we met in the city square, before those meetings in the gardens to play our harps, where she came to know me for me, rather than for my crown.
And she fell in love with me, as I did with her, and she stayed with me for years—all the while, the weight of my crown crushing the life out of her, out of us, and I never noticed it.
I wrote her a long response, with all of those thoughts. I poured out my heart, I suppose, desperate to be understood, for her to know me again, futile as it may have been. And at the end...I gave her my blessing. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy, no matter with who, I wrote, careful to keep the parchment dry.
I received one more letter from her, a year and a half after that, and knew before I even opened it that it was the last. I knew that she would tell me she was engaged to marry, and that she could no longer write to me as she had...and that she was sorry. For things turning out as they had, for taking so long to finally respond, for...so many things.
In the end I drew a piece of parchment, took up my quill, and wrote my last words to dear Wisteria: 'so long as you are happy, that is enough'. I bound the letter with a piece of bright violet ribbon, and sent it off.
And then I gathered the roll of that ribbon, which I only ever used to bind one kind of letter; and I gathered up all of Wisty's letters, the dozens of them she had sent me over the years.
I threw it all into my fireplace, and I burned it...just like I'd burned her.
Right, now, where was I? I...had to step away from writing for a moment. Keeping the parchment dry and all that, you understand.
Ah, yes. So Wisteria Heartstrings married, a nice unicorn stallion as I recall. I didn't see the wedding, never even learned the groom's name. She had children, I know that much, lived a good life from what little distant watch I kept. So far as I know, she died a happy old mare.
A half dozen generations after her, the Heartstrings name finally returned to Canterlot. They were still musicians, to their credit. A few of them even went through my school! I'm afraid I haven't kept track past that, though, so I couldn't tell you where any of them are now.
I couldn't tell you where my harp is, either, now that I think about it. I stopped playing, had it tucked away somewhere to collect dust a few hundred years ago.
The point of all this, Twilight, was not just to tell you about my last love, all those years ago, but rather to tell you of my last loss. It may have taken time to admit to myself, but I did so long enough ago to now be unhesitant in admitting that I have avoided romance in the years since because I am afraid of being hurt like that again.
This has been rather easy to do, as well, since nopony has seriously pursued me since.
Well, nopony except you, now.
There are a lot of complications—strings attached, you might say?—to romancing a princess, Twilight. But as my sister wisely noted in a recent conversation, you already know that, and you would have come to terms with those things before coming to me.
So it wasn't any of those things that I needed to think about. I didn't need to worry about what such a relationship with me would do to you—you've done your due diligence on that. I don't have to concern about Canterlot intrigues, because you've learned your way around those through most of your life.
What I did need to think about, Twilight, was whether or not I'm ready to fall in love again.
As you wrote, the first lesson of romance is that you need to take risks, and this is a very large one for me. I honestly don't know whether I'm ready for this.
But, dear Twilight...I would like to try.
I know that I shouldn't.
I know that what I should do is refuse your feelings, if gently, to spare myself the worry and you the hardships. I should play things safe, and not court intrigue and scandal.
But I won't.
Because somepony reminded me of an important lesson. Sometimes you need to wager what's safe and secure, risking your middling joy against the potential pain and despair of loss, for the chance of grasping that pinnacle happiness.
You hoped I would catch you, Twilight, and I have.
What would you say to trying to fly?
With greatest sincerity and fondest hopes, Celestia
~~~~~
Celestia sat in silence, watching and waiting as Twilight carefully read through the pages of her second letter with an unexpectedly admirable patience.
She wasn't quite sure now of some of the things she'd put down on those pages, in her admittedly emotional rush to commit her answer to paper before she could change her mind.
There was a part of her that wondered, now that she was stuck with time to think about it, what the younger mare thought of her hastily scrawled confessions. Would Twilight suddenly have second thoughts about her bold appeal, now that her intended was revealed as anything but the perfect princess?
Perhaps that would be best? Then she would step back from her admission, and then after a little awkwardness, things could go back to the nice, simple, safe way they had been—
No, she chastised herself, quashing such petty and fearful thoughts with a moment's practiced effort. Twilight had the courage to do this, and she risks far more than I in that doing. I won't have it answered by such cowardice.
The rustling of paper briefly filled the quiet air as Twilight turned to the final page of the second letter.
She'd had a tranquil way about her when she had entered the solarium just before. A peaceful acceptance, really, likely borne of an assumption of pending gentle refusal.
...And it occurs to me that I wrote that letter such that it implies as much right up to the end, doesn't it? And then the eleventh-hour reversal. Perhaps Luna's dramatic flair has influenced me more than I knew.
She couldn't help but smile, though. As slightly cruel as it may have been in its presentation, it was still, in the end, the answer that Twilight wanted.
As the unicorn seemed to have just noticed, as she was staring hard at the bottom of the page, not even daring to breathe.
"This...this says—but I thought..." she whispered, in halting disbelief, staring at the parchment for a long moment before turning to the quiet mare sitting beside her. "Celestia. Is this—does this mean...?"
The princess smiled. "It means a lot of things, Twilight," she said softly. "It means that after you risked everything you've ever had on such a noble and courageous wish, that the choice was clear. It means that, since the only thing I was risking was the chance of revisiting an old hurt that's been healed for centuries, that I've waited long enough. It means..."
The princess paused, taking a deep breath, and then she knelt to bring her eyes level with the stunned unicorn. "It means four words, that you've had to wait for two days longer than you should have," Celestia said, her ever-strong voice turned airy and free.
"My dearest Twilight...yes."
A Quiet Morning in the Gardens
The Lavender Letter
It was a lovely september day, the strong solar warmth still yet keeping at bay the chill typical to autumnal Canterlot. Choruses of birds chirped as they began preparations for the coming migration, flowers hesitantly revealed the petal blossoms hidden and closed away from the past night's frost, and the tall trees were a rich canvas of gold, scarlet, and auburn.
All of these things surrounded Twilight Sparkle as she cantered her way through the winding paths of the west gardens. Striking as they were, however, it was another beauty she sought; and since it was a weekend morning, she knew precisely where to find her.
A few more minutes walk among the grassy hedges and her ears perked up, catching an ethereal melody in the lingering breeze, and she had her quarry.
She rarely picked the same place twice, Twilight had noted over the previous few years, and after a few cases of conflicting schedules, a game had been made of it. She would play, and Twilight would follow the music.
That following led the lavender mare to a small plaza, ornamented with a pair of weathered stone benches framing a central fountain pond, which itself served to backdrop Princess Celestia as she effortlessly danced her hooves and wingtips across the strings of her golden harp in a cheerful duet.
Twilight smiled softly at the sight, and the not-unfamiliar temptation to just sit and listen for, oh, ever.
But not today, unfortunately. Today had appointments, which left only so much time for wandering the gardens and chasing down a mischievous harpist.
Celestia kept playing, her eyes closed as she was seized in the moment of musical bliss—
"Hey, nag!"
Twang.
Twilight chuckled to herself. Works every time.
"Twilight Sparkle!" Celestia exclaimed, shocked from her trance. "How dare you address me with such vulgarity!"
"Sorry," Twilight said cheekily, trotting up and nudging Celestia with a playful hoof. "But you're a few years late to be pulling out that card, Sunshine."
"...Well," Celestia said, rather more calmly as she inspected her harp. "You can't blame me for trying. You nearly made me break a string."
"As much as I like just sitting and listening—and I do, you know that," Twilight said warmly, "I'm unfortunately on call today, so I'm pressed for time. Now, Celestia: you do recall what today is?"
"Of course," the princess replied, settling down into a comfortable laying posture. "It's our anniversary, Sparky. You didn't think I forgot?"
Ugh, 'Sparky', Twilight thought, rolling her eyes, to which Celestia snickered.
"...No, I didn't think you forgot," the unicorn eventually said, "but there's something else. You're aware of which anniversary this is?"
Celestia smiled.
"Naturally. It's our ei—"
Celestia stopped smiling.
"...Our eighth anniversary."
"Yes, Celestia," Twilight said quietly. "It's been eight years. Eight years of political plots, of castle intrigues, manipulative scheming nobles— eight years in the heart of Canterlot, of Equestria . And now, Celestia...there's something I need to tell you."
Twilight could see the light die out of the other mare's eyes. Celestia wilted; her smile fled, her ears fell, her flowing ethereal mane slowed to a languid crawl...her pearly white coat turned an ashen grey.
"...I love you, Celestia. I love you so very dearly," Twilight said, almost in a whisper, as she stepped close to nuzzle the princess gently. "And after eight years at court...I'm not going anywhere."
Celestia blinked a few times, the beginnings of tears suddenly halting. "You're...you're not?"
"Nope. I'm staying right here, with you," Twilight answered resolutely, wrapping her forelegs around Celestia's neck in a tight hug. "Really, if anything," she mused, smiling at the flurry of insistent cuddles, "I'm disappointed in the lack of quality drama. I really expected ponies to try far harder to drive me away."
"You couldn't have just said that, instead of nearly crushing my dreams?" the princess asked, quietly laughing.
"Oh, I could have," Twilight noted, drawing slowly out of the embrace to look into trembling lilac eyes. "But I seem to recall being left to think the absolute worst for two days, and then a certain letter that played right into those fears until the very end...so maybe I felt like teasing. Just a little."
She then cut short Celestia's intended reply with a peace offering, one that was warm, and soft, and left a familiar, lingering taste of lavender and honeysuckle.
Works every time, she thought, as the kiss returned the brightness to her love's eyes.
"...Well, I'm still mad," Celestia said, with a bit of a forced pout. "That wasn't very nice of you. I dare say you'll need some kind of small miracle to make up for this one."
"Oh, really? Well, as it happens, " Twilight said cheerfully, a wide smile spreading across her face. "I may not be going anywhere, Celestia, but..."
Just as soon as it had arrived, however, her smiling bravado abandoned her, and Twilight was quickly overcome by a nervous blush. Almost as though the previous eight years hadn't even happened...but there was a reason for that.
Thankfully, well-practiced habits weren't so affected by her nerves, and so when she reached her magic out to a well-remembered hiding place in the castle, she had no trouble pulling that reason through the ether to appear in the air before her with a quiet pop.
Twilight resolved herself.
"There, uh, was somewhere I was hoping you would go...with me?" she timidly stammered, and the princess eyed her curiously...until she nudged the little wooden box open with her magic.
Celestia gasped audibly, her eyes gone wide.
"...So," Twilight said tentatively, "there are four words I'm hoping for, here."
"...That just might do it," the princess remarked absently.
"Uh...that's five," Twilight countered.
"Oh. Sorry, right. I'm just— you've gone and caught me unprepared again," Celestia said warmly, smiling as she looked at the pair of amethyst-encrusted golden rings sitting on a silk pillow in the little wooden box. "But I don't need two days to decide this time. Four words, then?"
Celestia resolved herself.
"Yes, Twilight, I will."
