To Weep for Family

Chapter 2

Pre-read by The Descendant

The doors to the throne room swung open. For the pony on one side of the entryway, the groaning of the hinges lasted a painfully long time. For the one on other side, the action passed far too quickly.

“Hello, Twilight.”

Twilight turned on the spot to face the doorway. Her wide, wet eyes met the soft, sympathetic gaze of her mentor. “P-princess Celestia.” She sniffled once and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh.” Her mouth a straight line, Princess Celestia beckoned Twilight towards her. After a moment’s hesitation, Twilight ran to her. The princess stooped down and pulled her into a soft, one-armed embrace. Twilight buried her face into Celestia’s coat, and the princess returned the nuzzle in kind.

Before long, however, Celestia opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking across the room. She smiled a tiny smile. “You too, Spike.”

The dragon had been standing by Twilight’s side, holding her shoulder, when the two princesses had entered. At Celestia’s call, his eyes widened and he immediately ran over to join the embrace. The princess gently nuzzled the back of his head.

After not long enough, Twilight pulled away, sniffling and wiping her eyes again. “Th-thank you, Princess, but… but now’s not really the time for this.”

“I’m afraid I must agree, Twilight,” said Celestia, still holding Spike close. She forced herself to let him go. The little dragon backed up to Twilight’s side, wiping his nose as he did.

Twilight kept her eyes trained on the floor and said, “Please, just… could you explain what’s going on? W-what that letter was talking about...” She sniffled once.

Celestia stepped forward and lifted a hoof to Twilight’s shoulder. “Are you certain, my faithful student? We have plenty of time. I could have some tea prepared first if you—”

“N-no,” Twilight interjected, shaking her head. “Not that that isn’t… it’s just…” She closed her eyes, sighed, and gently pushed Celestia’s hoof back down. “Please, Princess. We just... need to know what’s going on. That letter…” Her voice fell away.

Celestia nodded slowly and said, “I understand, Twilight.” She paused, looking from Twilight to Spike. Something shifted in her eyes, and her voice went much softer as she said, “Both of you must be so scared right now.”

Spike nodded minutely, looking at the ground. Twilight turned her head to look up at Celestia, her eyes desperate and her muzzle fallen.

Celestia held Twilight’s gaze for a time, then turned her head up to look at nothing in particular on the ceiling. “It all started not one hundred years ago.”

***

The cave smelled sulfuric, and a deadly white cocktail clung to the high ceiling above. Dozens of torches lined the walls of the chamber, each glowing bright enough to fill the area with a warm, orange light. Hundreds of stalagmites formed an obtuse ring around the middle of the room, a ring broken only at one of the oval’s far edges. Just beyond the gap sat the throat of the world: a titanic hole of complete darkness which served as the only entrance or exit to the cavern.

And in the middle of the chamber, almost taking up the whole of the stalagmite-lined ring, was a dragon.

Her large silver scales reflected more light than they had any right to, giving her something of a ghostly aura. The spines along her back and tail were deep blue, matching her cobalt eyes in both colour and power. Little scratches lined her entire body, but four noticeably larger scrapes marked her muzzle. Her massive claws were longer and sharper than any of the millennia-old, pointed stalagmites of the cavern, yet their colour was dulled to a pale blue.

She rested her mammoth head on her front paws, not looking at anything in particular as little white wisps floated in and out of her irises. A large, pristine purple pillow with gold trim sat a short ways ahead of her snout, sticking out like a feather in a battlefield.

The sounds of wingbeats came in quick succession from the cave’s entrance, draining the cloudy imperfections from the dragon’s eyes. She looked up to see a lanky green dragon with amber eyes and copper spines fly into view. He landed on his hind legs before the behemoth and, in a voice too deep for his body, said, “My Liege.” He descended into a low, practiced bow.

“Rise, Squire,” said the queen, her voice rattling the torches in their sconces. “I have known you your entire life. Such formality is not required of you.”

The squire rose to a standing position. “Apologies, My Liege. I have come to inform you that the Sun Princess of Equestria has arrived.”

“Thank you, Squire. Lead her down.”

“At once, My Liege.” The squire bowed quickly, rose into the air, and flew off to the world above.

The queen shifted her body just slightly, making the earth tremble and groan around her. After the chamber settled, she craned her head over her shoulder to regard her wing. It sat carefully over a specific spot on the floor, rigid and unmoving.

Her eyes remained fixated there, looking at something unseen. She adjusted her wing minutely.

The sound of beating wings drew her eyes back to the front of the chamber. She turned just in time to see a tall white alicorn soar in and land silently on the large pillow. The dragon squire flew in shortly after and landed at her side.

He gestured to the alicorn and said, “My Liege, I present to you the Sun Princess, Celestia of Equestria.”

“Thank you, Squire. You may go.”

The squire nodded, bowed, and made his exit.

The queen turned her head and nodded to the princess. “Well met, Celestia.”

Celestia returned the nod. “And you, Dracomedon.” She looked down at the ornate cushion she’d landed on and smirked. “You know this is not necessary. I’ve told you plenty of times over the years, I’m fine to stand on the cave floor.”

“And every time I respond the same way. It is part of a dragon’s nobility to ensure their guests are as comfortable as possible. Your sister never questioned it.”

The princess shook her head, still smirking. “That’s likely because Luna was just as noble and stubborn as you.” Celestia sighed gently. “But if you insist, I can’t complain.”

The queen’s chuckle shook the air, and the cavern brightened. “It is good to see you again, Celestia. I sometimes find myself longing for the times of war just so we might meet with more regularity.”

Celestia smiled up at the queen. “Speaking of which, I’m assuming you didn’t ask me here today just to catch up. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but you’re not typically the type to indulge in frivolous meetings.”

“You are correct.” The dragon queen smiled marginally. “And I resent that.”

Celestia giggled. “So, what do you wish to talk with me about?”

The queen’s expression fell, and the lighting of the cavern dimmed slightly. She closed her scarred eyelids and sighed, ushering a volcanic gale across Celestia. The princess held her smile.

“Alas, it is with head hung and heart heavy that I speak to you today. I have not felt such distress since…” The queen stared beyond Celestia for a moment. A single, warbling white wisp crossed each of her pupils.

Celestia said nothing. The gravity of unspoken words pulled her smile down into a straight line.

Her eyes still distant, the queen said, “But that is the past.” The wisps sunk back behind her eyes. “I have asked you here today to—”

“Marauders!”

Both the princess and the queen turned to face the lone entrance of the cavern. Animalistic roars clashed from beyond the hole, growing steadily louder likes war drums on march. In the din of it all, a sharp, distinct javelin of noise shot through the air.

A caw.

The light in the cavern went stark red, and the queen’s single outstretched wing hardened to an iron sheet. Any dullness in her eyes vanished as she focused on the entrance. In a voice that could—and did—shatter rock, she bellowed, “Move, Celestia!”

The princess had already stepped to the side of  the entrance and set her horn aglow. Her stance was rigid and her eyes were firm as the chaotic sounds of screeching beasts and flapping wings drew nearer.

Faster than a lightning strike, one griffon and two hulking dragons—neither of which were even half the size of the queen—screamed past the entrance and straight towards the queen’s outstretched wing.

Celestia fired a blazing column from her horn. It collided with the rearmost dragon and snared it in a web of light. The dragon instantly fell to the ground and skidded into a wall, unconscious.

The queen unleashed a monstrous, midnight blue sea of fire at the other assailants. The griffon deftly weaved around the flame and turned immediately back towards the queen’s wing. The dragon shot upwards to dodge, but roared horrifically as his tail grazed the queen’s fire.

From the side, Celestia aimed three golden bolts at the dragon. At the same time, the queen twisted her mammoth head in the dragon’s direction, still spewing flames which blackened the cave walls.

Dazed, the dragon flew up and away from the fire, but Celestia’s highest missile slammed into his chest. He stopped cold in the sky and was scorched by dragonfire.

The griffon had since cleared the distance to the queen’s wing. It swiped one talon at the appendage, leaving a deep gash. The queen winced, recoiled her wing barely, and turned her head in the griffon’s direction.

It had vanished.

“Dracomedon! The entrance!”

The queen flicked her incensed eyes to the cave’s entrance in time to see the griffon soaring away.

It held a massive egg in its clutches.

An earthquake came with the queen’s roar. She hulked her massive body towards the entrance, preparing another surge of flame.

A single bolt of gold sent the griffon into the ceiling with enough force to fracture the rock. From where the griffon had been struck, the egg hung suspended in the air by a sparkling yellow aura.

Baring a wall of jagged teeth, the queen called, “Squire!”

The thin green dragon arrived not a second later. He landed hastily and bowed deeply. “Apologies, My Liege. I managed to stop two more marauders in the tunnel, but the others moved too quickly.”

The queen’s nostrils flared, releasing large plumes of smoke. After a moment, her expression calmed considerably, but the lines in her face remained rigid. Tension still high in her voice, she said, “Thank you for your efforts, Squire. Now, take this griffon away. I shall handle the rest.”

One curt nod later, the squire flew up to the griffon plastered on the ceiling. He unceremoniously pulled it free and carried the creature into the darkness of the tunnel.

Celestia, breathing heavily, gave the queen a hard stare. Her face drawn in straight lines, she said, “Dracomedon, please do not tell me that was what I think it was.”

The queen held Celestia’s stare even as she pushed the heavily charred dragon to the side of the cavern. “If you are concerned that the griffons have broken The Harmony Treaty, you are mistaken.” Her eyes moved to the floating object near the entrance. “Place the egg between us, please.”

Straightening herself and lessening her stare, Celestia hovered the egg to the spot between the two of them and set it gently on the pillow. The egg was a sort of lavender, and covered in green spots.

“It is, perhaps, fortunate that this happened today of all days,” said the queen, her eyes still on the egg. “It will help to explain my purpose.”

Several white wisps swam back into the queen’s eyes, and some of their cobalt hue bled away. Her voice detached, she said, “Those were marauders—a group formed of outlaws from both the griffon and dragon societies. This is not the first time they have attacked me here, nor do I believe it will be the last.”

“But what do they hope to accomplish?” Celestia said. Her eyes flicked from the queen to the egg and back again. “Such a risky, foolhardy raid can’t just be because they want to wreak havoc.”

The queen’s expression sagged a bit. “They wish to bring an end to my monarchy. As I understand it, griffons who still have their hearts set on war and dragons who are vehemently opposed to the throne have formed a temporary alliance in an effort to end my family line.”

Celestia’s eyes softened, and she turned them to gaze at the spotted egg. It suddenly seemed much smaller in the hold of the plush pillow. “And since they have no hope of defeating you in such small numbers…”

“They seek to destroy my kin.”

The light in the cavern shifted from orange to pale blue. As silence lingered, and as the egg took the lone focus of both its mother and Celestia, a strange chill strangled the heat from the chamber. Somewhere in the black nothing behind the queen, the earth cried resonant tears.

“You wish for my help in protecting this egg,” said Celestia, her face impassive and her eyes deep. “That’s why you’ve asked me here today.”

The queen said nothing, but her stare lifted from the egg to Celestia. She held it there for several moments before shifting it to the side of the cavern where the two dragons lay. She snorted two dark clouds. They mingled in the air for a moment before dissipating as one.

She focused on the charred dragon, and the ghostly wisps returned to her eyes. “I have no heroes, Celestia. Not once in my lifetime can I recall a situation where I depended solely on factors beyond my control to aid me. I have fought my own fights, and I have long protected my people without the need for assistance. I have lived a proud life.”

Her eyes twisted to the other dragon, bound in golden light. “But I am old, Celestia. At best, I have two hundred years of life ahead of me, and I am well past my prime.” She moved her head back to look at the egg. “In more ways than one, it would seem.”

The queen blinked. “I can still handle myself, but my ability to care for and protect others is dwindling. Even those closest to me can no longer entirely rely on my protection. If you had not been here today…” The light in the cavern dimmed. Both Celestia and the queen remained focused on the egg.

“What’s more,” said the queen, her voice softened to the point that the torches didn’t so much as shudder, “I have surpassed a critical point in my life. You are certainly aware that I am beyond the age where breeding is possible. But what most do not realize… is that I am also beyond the point at which mothering an egg is possible.”

Celestia’s attention snapped up to the queen. “What? Are you certain?”

The queen nodded, blinking. Her voice shaky and small, she said, “It is the most painful truth I have ever had to acknowledge, but as it stands, this egg will not hatch in my care.”

“Oh, Dracomedon…” Princess Celestia leapt swiftly over the egg and landed next to the queen’s snout. She reached up and pressed her hoof gently against one massive scale, holding it there. The queen closed her eyes and said nothing, breathing audibly through her nose.

The air hung heavy for a time. A single warm hoof steadied the mind of a giant. Shadows ran down the walls from the ceiling, but the midnight blue torches kept them a safe distance from the two creatures. For a moment, the scent of smoky cinders overtook the acidity of the volcanic air.

Without opening her eyes, the dragon queen said, “I have a favour to ask, Celestia.”

Celestia lowered her hoof. She looked up as the queen’s reptilian eyelids lifted to reveal her cobalt eyes. They were deep pools, yet nothing swam through them. “Of course.”

The queen lifted her eyes past Celestia and to the egg. She looked at it. She looked past it. She looked through it.

She looked, and a single globule of water rolled from her eye.

“I ask that you take this egg away with you today.”

Both of Celestia’s eyebrows shot up, and she recoiled a step as her mouth fell open. “Dracomedon, I… I couldn’t. I know how much this egg means to you. I know how much he meant to you. There must be another—”

“I have made many mistakes in my lifetime, Celestia,” said the queen, some power returning to her voice. “Some were more costly than others. One was the most costly of all, and I will never forgive myself for it.” She turned her eyes back on Celestia, the queen’s face hewn in stone. “I will not make that mistake again.”

Celestia stared for a time, frowning. She turned to look over her shoulder at the tiny, shimmering egg. She blinked at it and turned back to the queen. “I understand, Dracomedon. Truly, I do, but this…” She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

“This will hurt you so much…” she whispered.

“...it would hurt more to never see the face of my child.”

Celestia’s brow creased, and she frowned deeper. “My magic will take far longer to hatch this egg than any dragon would. Perhaps there is another dragon who you could entrust it to.”

The queen sighed and looked across the way at the gaping entrance of the cavern. “As much as I wish I could say otherwise, dragons are not trustworthy creatures. I would trust no living dragon with this task. At least, none who would be up to the responsibility.”

“But, Dracomedon, this—”

“Is something I have thought about for a long time, Celestia.” Her head turned sharply to look back at the princess. “That egg is over one hundred years old. I have been weighing my options for half of that time. It makes my heart heavy, but the decision is made.”

Celestia said nothing.

The queen allowed her to say nothing, but as silence became uncertainty, she sighed. “Celestia, you have proven yourself beyond the shadow of any doubt. You are capable of protecting much more than a single egg. That, I know. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities.”

The princess remained silent, keeping her eyes low. Her body looked tense.

“Moreover,” the queen continued, “in terms of magic, you are perhaps the single most powerful living creature I can fathom. While you speak the truth in regards to hatching the egg, you will still hatch it well within my lifetime. That is all that I require.”

Celestia’s gaze bore into the rock.

“And one other thing.” A trace of a smile grew across the queen’s mouth, tinting the cavern pinkish with torchlight. Her tone went as dulcet as possible as she said, “You are one of the dearest friends anyone in this lifetime or the next could ask for. I have been deceived and abused countless times by false allies, but you have always shown me nothing but kindness and absolute fidelity.

“I trust you, Celestia. You will do what is right for my child. I ask nothing more.”

Celestia closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

The torchlight—which had been flickering between pink and blue for some time—finally decided on a sort of peach. In the distance behind the queen, the gentle metronome of dripping water finally came to a stop. All the world seemed to hold its breath in that moment.

Barely above a whisper, Celestia said, “Very well.”

The queen bowed her head to Celestia’s level. The princess looked up at last and met the queen’s softest gaze. Celestia smiled and lifted a hoof back to the same massive, ivory scale she’d touched earlier. Time froze like that for a while.

Eventually the queen lifted her head back to its more regal posture. With all the sincerity in the world, she looked at Celestia and said, “Now, what is your price?”

The princess’ eyes widened and her smile went slack. “Dracomedon, you can’t be serious.”

The queen stared.

“This isn’t some governmental exchange, Dracomedon,” Celestia said. “I will do this for you solely out of the kindness and generosity of our friendship.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Celestia,” the queen said, her face impassive. “While I appreciate the gesture, a dragon’s nobility knows no generosity. I would sooner denounce my throne than leave a favour unrewarded. Especially one so personal.”

Lifting a hoof, Celestia made to reply, but no words came. All that her mouth managed was a gentle smirk. She lowered her hoof and shook her head. “Arguing dragon nobility with you is always a losing battle, you stubborn old reptile. So, fine. I’ll concede this time.”

One corner of the queen’s mouth rose. “You’ve learned well. Your sister would have argued with me until well past next sunrise if she had been here.”

Celestia chuckled. “Now, let me think…” She held a hoof to her chin and moved her eyes to look at nothing. A few short moments later, she craned her head to regard the egg which was still nestled comfortably in the pillow. Her eyes widened marginally, and a smile crossed her face within the dimensions of sincerity. “Actually, I do have one idea.”

“Speak.”

Turning her head to face the queen again, Celestia said, “I’m not entirely sure how comfortable you’ll be with this, but… do you remember my school for gifted unicorns back in Canterlot?”

“Vaguely,” said the queen, “but I recall it more vividly as it was in the old capital. ‘Princess Celestia’s School for the Magically Gifted,’ as my memory tells me. What of it?”

“Well, as you and I both know, magical ability can be a very difficult thing to accurately gauge, especially in younger ponies. The equipment we currently use to test would-be students is… subpar at best.”

The queen nodded minutely. Something flashed behind her eyes, but she remained silent.

“Now, I’m certain that I don’t need to tell you that dragons are naturally resistant to magic, and they also have the keen sense to detect minor differences in magical ability. For dragon eggs, this applies doubly so.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she snorted. “Are you suggesting using my offspring as a testing device?”

Celestia held her smile. “Allow me to finish, please.”

The queen focused on Celestia’s expression for a few moments longer before nodding and softening her stare.

“In regards to your egg,” Celestia said, “it has such a high magical resistance that even my most powerful magic applied to it for several hours a day would take nearly half a century to hatch it. And while I wish I was capable of doing that, such an act would drain me of all my energy, and I do have a nation to run.

“So, what I propose is this: Allow me to have applicants to my school test their magic on your egg. This way, your egg will receive the high dosages of magic that it needs, and the entry exam at my school will work far more effectively as well. It’s a beneficial relationship for the both of us.”

The queen looked down her snout at the princess with sharp eyes. “Forgive me, Celestia, but I am not overly keen at the idea of having my last offspring held in the magic of mere children.”

Celestia’s smile dropped to a line. “The most talented children of their kind, Dracomedon. And every entrance exam is monitored by a panel of professional teachers who have dedicated their lives to the practice of magic. You have my word that every precaution will be taken to…”

The queen’s eyes hadn’t dulled in the slightest.

Her mouth still open, Celestia sighed and lowered her head. “Forgive me, Dracomedon. I just thought… I’m sorry. It was a selfish proposal. I’ll think of something simpler.”

At that, the queen’s eyes widened. The light from the torches went deep yellow, and the queen’s body tensed noticeably.

Celestia lifted her head back up, a tiny smile across her face. “How about—”

“Celestia.”

The princess stopped.

The queen looked beyond the pony, back at her egg again. The acidic odors of her home mingled in her nostrils. A tiny, milky wisp flashed into one of her eyes, and then it was gone.

“This school… how important is it to you?”

“Oh, I…” Celestia trailed off as the queen looked back down at her. She sighed. “To be perfectly honest, Dracomedon, it means the world to me.”

“Truly?”

The princess nodded. “Yes. To be able to help the next generation of my little ponies prosper is a pleasure that has never grown old for me. I only wish I could do more for them.”

Neither Celestia nor the dragon queen blinked as they held each other’s gaze. Both sets of eyes were deep, and the silence between them spoke volumes.

The queen nodded slowly. “Very well. I accept your proposal.”

Celestia smiled wide. “Thank you, Dracomedon. You can’t know how much that means to me.”

“I believe I can, Celestia.” The torches went bright yellow.

Celestia giggled. “I promise, you won’t regret this decision.”

***

Luna sighed. “Oh, Sister, what have you done?”

“B-but… I don’t understand,” Twilight said. Spike had settled beneath her, clutching her forelegs with both claws and staying focused on Celestia. “If you were supposed to give Spike back to her when he hatched, then why… why…” Her head dropped, and she saw Spike’s little claws holding her.

Celestia closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “There is more to this story, as you might have guessed, and I’m afraid I’m not entirely proud of the rest of it.”

“Oh, Sister…”

***

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Yes, yes—”

“Easy there, Twilight!” the filly’s father said, both he and her mother beaming as they approached their daughter.

Twilight stopped bouncing long enough to notice them. “Mom! Dad!” she called, running up to them. “Look, look! I got my cutie mark! And… and Princess Celestia! And my cutie mark! And the princess! And… yes, yes, yes, yes!” The filly put her energetic hooves back to work as she leapt in little circles.

“We’re so proud, Twilight!” said her mother, her eyes a bit scrunched up as she watched the filly hop about.

“You certainly have quite an excitable daughter!” said Princess Celestia, stepping over to Twilight’s parents with a mirthful smile.

Twilight’s father nodded, his eyes still trained on the filly. It took him a moment to jerk his head to the side and notice the alicorn on his right. “Y-your Majesty!” He stumbled into a bow, and his wife followed suit.

Celestia chuckled. “That’s not necessary. Please, rise… oh, I’m afraid I never got your names.”

“N-night Light,” stuttered the stallion. “And my w-wife here is Twilight Velvet.” He gestured to the awkwardly grinning mare.

Celestia just smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. You have an exceptionally talented daughter.”

“I-I’m glad you think so!” said Twilight Velvet, beaming a little more sincerely. “She studied night and day for this exam.”

“I knew she’d do well,” said Night Light with a cocksure grin. “But she was still so nervous, and the fact that Shining Armor couldn’t make it just made her even more nervous.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Shining Armor?”

Night Light’s eyes widened again as he looked back to the princess. “H-her brother.”

“The two of them are very close,” said Twilight Velvet. “Probably about as close as a brother and sister can get!”

“I see,” Celestia said, allowing herself to process the thought. “Well, I look forward to meeting him someday as well. Now, back to your daughter—”

“Quick! Before it sets the building on fire!”

The three ponies turned their heads towards the voice, and even Twilight stopped her excited bouncing at the shrill tone.

Near the front center of the room, the four exam judges were gathered around an assorted mess of hay, wood, and eggshell. The newly hatched baby dragon floated in a yellow aura, wailing to the world as rivulets of tears cascaded down his face. The professors all had their ears pinned to their heads as they scowled at the dragon.

Something shone behind Celestia’s eye. “Oh, dear,” she whispered. “Would you two please excuse me for a moment? I must—”

“Leave him alone!”

For the second time, all eyes went to the source of the voice.

Twilight Sparkle leveled a glare at the four teachers. They all stared at her blankly as she ran towards them, her horn glowing with a tiny spark.

“Put him down!” Twilight shouted, looking up at the one with a yellow glow around her horn. “You’re scaring him!”

“Young filly,” said one of the other teachers, “you would do well not to speak that way to your elders. Now let us do our job.” He nodded to the teacher who held the still-shrieking baby dragon.

“No!” Twilight cried, widening her stance. “Shining taught me how to stand up to those bullies in magic kindergarten, so now I’m gonna stand up to you! Put him down!”

A third teacher chuckled deeply. “How charming. I understand your concern, little one, but I can assure you that we’re not bullies.”

“Then why is he crying so much?!”

“That’s what babies do.”

“Only if you’re not doing what’s right for them! Let him go!”

Princess Celestia’s eyes widened slightly. She looked down to Night Light who was staring at the scene with pinprick pupils. The princess asked, “Is this normal for her?”

“Er…”

“Ma’am,” called one of the teachers, looking to Twilight Velvet, “could you please get your daughter under control?”

Twilight Velvet shook her head vigorously for a moment. “Oh, Twilight, sweetie—” she began moving towards the commotion.

She was stopped by a white hoof clad in gold.

“Don’t worry,” Princess Celestia said, keeping her eyes on the fuming filly. “I’ll take care of this.” With that, she strode calmly over to the scene.

“Your Highness,” said one of the instructors, and all three immediately stooped low as Celestia stopped near them. Twilight looked over her shoulder at the princess, and her face fell very quickly.

Celestia looked down at Twilight impassively for but a second before focusing on the unicorn holding the baby dragon aloft. “Miss Polish, please put the child down gently.”

The mare gulped visibly before nodding and slowly lowering the little dragon back to the ground. His sobs continued, but they were noticeably more subdued.

Princess Celestia regarded the four instructors coolly. “Thank you all for your assistance. You are excused.”

“But, Princess—” began the other mare.

“Please, Miss Clear, leave us be.”

A tense silence hung for a brief moment before the mare nodded curtly. “Of course, Princess. Apologies.” She promptly walked away into the recesses of the building, her fellow instructors following shortly behind.

Celestia watched them go. When she saw the last of them disappear, she looked back down to the filly in front of her.

The little dragon had ceased its whimpering and crawled over to her, latching itself around Twilight’s neck. For her part, Twilight embraced the baby dragon in kind, but her uneasy eyes were still looking up at the princess.

“I-I’m sorry,” Twilight stammered. “I d-don’t know what came over me. I just… I saw him crying like that, and my big b-brother told me to always help somepony who’s in trouble, a-and…” Her head sagged. “Y-you don’t want to t-teach me anymore, do you?”

“On the contrary, Twilight,” Celestia said, smiling, “I think you’ve just shown something very special about yourself that makes you an ideal student.”

Twilight looked up through wide, misty eyes. “Really?”

Celestia nodded. “You displayed incredible compassion for someone you didn’t even know, and a dragon, no less. That kindhearted nature is exactly what I want in a student.”

Twilight smiled a tiny smile, but it was pulled away when the little dragon squirmed in her arms. She stroked his back gently with one hoof, and she looked up to Celestia with shiny eyes. “What’s gonna happen to him?”

“I…” Celestia trailed off as she watched the Twilight hold the baby tenderly, genuine care behind the filly’s eyes. At once, a dust-caked memory jumped to the forefront of her mind.

Dracomedon roared with such ferocity that it rippled the distant ocean. She held something tiny in her claws, and large droplets of water poured from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Dracomedon…”

“Why must this world be so cruel, Celestia?! He did nothing to deserve this! He was… but a child…”

As the dragon began snoring in Twilight’s embrace, a second memory came to the princess. Not as old, but far from fresh.

“You will do what is right for my child. I ask nothing more.”

Like twin gears, the two memories clashed in perfect harmony, working with one another to create a single thought which superseded all others.

“Well, Twilight,” Celestia said, blinking once and smiling wider. “You’re the one who hatched him. I think it’s only fair that you get the privilege of raising him.”

Twilight froze.

“If that’s alright with your parents, of course.” Celestia looked over her shoulder at the two ponies. They were both smiling warmly at the scene, and they walked over together.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” said Twilight Velvet, a film of water making her eyes shine.

Night Light just continued smiling.

Her jaw hanging slack, Twilight turned her awestruck eyes back to the little purple dragon in her embrace. Barely audible, she asked, “What’s his name?”

Celestia chuckled. “I don’t think he has one yet. Maybe you should give him one.”

Twilight looked over the dragon in wonderment. She looked at his pointed tail, and her eyes coasted across the entirety of his back, staring at the jagged green frills.

Eventually, she smiled. She stroked his back with a hoof once again and said a single word.

“Spike.”

***

Silence hung around the throne room like the heaviest of drapes. Twilight had her head low and her eyes closed. Spike had resigned himself to clutching one of her forelegs, keeping his eyes on the ground. Celestia simply had her eyes closed, her face unreadable. Luna looked at her sister with marked softness in her eyes and a frown across her face.

“Sister,” Luna began, “are you truly saying what I think you’re saying?”

Celestia didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her tone was even. “I did what my heart told me to do, Luna. I did what I believed to be right rather than what I knew to be right.” She opened her eyes and watched Spike hold Twilight like she was on the verge of vanishing.

“And I cannot say that I regret it.”

“But it was not your decision to make, Celestia! It is not you who gets to choose what is right or wrong for the child of another. And to betray the trust of one of our dearest friends for a pony you barely knew at the time… it’s unthinkable!”

Celestia slowly turned her head to meet her sister’s eyes. “I know, Luna. I know.”

Luna didn’t make to reply.

Celestia turned back to face Twilight. “Twilight, you must understand. The dragons… their society is very different from our own. Spike’s childhood would have been nightmarish in their land. His life would have been in extreme danger every single day, and the love you’ve shown him would have been virtually nonexistent.”

Twilight said nothing.

“The compassion you showed on that day, Twilight, was what drove me to my decision. I wanted him to lead a peaceful life without wars or bloody conflicts. I wanted him to experience your friendship—and for you to experience his—instead of allowing him to become a sheltered monster trained to kill or be killed.”

Silence held.

“And seeing just how far you’ve come now—both of you—tells me I made the right decision. I deeply regret that I had to betray such a dear friend to do it, but I wouldn’t hesitate to make the same choice again.” Her voice lowered to just under her breath as she said, "No matter how much it pains me."

Still, Twilight maintained the quiet. Celestia’s words settled around the room, allowing everyone to contemplate them.

“Why didn’t she ever ask about me?” said a scratchy voice.

All three alicorns looked down at Spike who was looking up at Celestia, eyes pleading.

“This queen,” Spike said, “my… mom… if she knew you were watching over me, why didn’t she ever ask about me?”

Finally, Twilight pulled her head up. She stared at Celestia with deep, half-lidded eyes underlined by a deeper frown. She said nothing.

Celestia held Spike’s gaze for a moment, then moved to Twilight’s, then closed her eyes with a sigh. “I’m afraid that story, Spike, is the one I’m most ashamed of.”

“Sister?” Luna asked, taking a small step closer.

“Every year...” Celestia began. “Every year since she entrusted me with your egg, Queen Dracomedon would visit Equestria to see your progress. After I  made the decision to… after I made my decision, I needed a way to ensure that the queen would stop visiting. So I did something terrible. I did something I will never forgive myself for until the day I die.”

Three sets of eyes focused on her, and she said a single, lead-clad phrase.

“I lied.”

***

“My Liege! You’ve received a letter from the Sun Princess!”

The queen turned away from the darkness of the cavern in order to face its entrance. She lumbered her massive bulk to its traditional resting place in the ring of stalagmites just in time to meet her squire. The torches along the walls shifted from standard orange to bright yellow.

“My Liege,” said the squire, bowing his head low as he landed.

“Rise, Squire,” said the queen, a certain glint in her eyes. “Again, you needn’t bow in my presence. We know each other well enough by now.”

“Apologies, My Liege.” The squire bowed his head slightly.

The queen’s mouth curled in an imperceptible smile. “You said Celestia sent me a letter.”

“Yes, My Liege.” The dragon lifted a single green claw towards the queen. A scroll bound by a tight red seal lay in his palm.

“Thank you, Squire.” The queen reached over with her comparatively massive claw and deftly grabbed the letter. She shredded the seal and laid it across the flat section of rock before her. At once, her large, bright eyes began scrolling across the page.

Dracomedon,

I wish I were writing to you of happier things than this, but I’m afraid I’m currently writing with a sad heart and sadder news.

Today during an entrance exam, the applicant suffered a magical spasm of sorts while holding your egg. As I understand it, the professors overseeing the test tried to react quickly enough, but I’m afraid it was a lost cause.

The egg collided with the wall and shattered. It is unsalvageable.

I know I could say how terribly, gravely sorry I am until eternity runs dry, and I know it would make no difference to you. Regardless, words cannot express the sorrow and guilt I am currently feeling at this loss. I am so, so sorry.

If you wish to terminate our relations, I will understand completely. All I ask is that you don’t blame my nation for my fault. I am the sole one to blame in this case.

I am truly, deeply, and eternally sorry.

Yours truly,

-Celestia

The queen froze as she arrived at the letter’s last words. Her eyes were dull, and a single wisp flew through her vision ceaselessly. The torches dimmed severely, and dark purple light filled anything that wasn’t shadow.

“My Liege?”

The queen blinked. She blinked again. In the distant darkness, the steady metronome of water colliding with rock began anew.

“Squire…”

“My Liege.”

“I ask that you write a letter for me, send it to Celestia, then… leave me in peace until I say otherwise…”

The squire said nothing for a moment, but soon bowed his head. “Of course, My Liege. As you request.”

***

“That letter…” Celestia said. “The letter I received in reply… it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to read in my life…”

The silence lingered for a moment, but Twilight finally spoke, her voice small. “What did it say?”

Keeping her eyes shut, Celestia’s body tensed and she whispered, “It was a single line. It said, ‘I forgive you. I take this tragedy upon myself.’ ”

The nighttime quiet returned, heavier than ever.

"I tried sending her letters in reply," Celestia said, her tone on its last legs. "I tried to convince her that she shouldn't blame herself, tried to mend what I had done to her... but she never sent any letters back. It has been a burden on my heart ever since."

“Y-you lied to this queen…” Spike said breathlessly, looking at the ground. “You lied to her... about… about my…”

“As I said, Spike, I will never forgive myself for that.”

Luna gave her sister a very dark, very penetrating look. “I am not sure that is something I can forgive either, Sister.”

Beyond the window, the moon was slowly nearing the horizon. Its grey light spilled across the four of them, paling the colour of the scene. It matched the dead air to a tee.

It was Twilight who finally broke the moment. “So… what now?”

Celestia looked to Twilight. “What do you mean, my faithful student?”

Twilight met Celestia’s eyes with a look of stone. “What are we going to do to keep Spike here?”

Spike clutched Twilight’s leg tighter.

Celestia sighed. “I… this is entirely my fault, Twilight, and I’m sorry to have put you and Spike in this position. I… I will talk to Queen Dracomedon, but beyond that…"

Celestia closed her eyes. Her voice lost all momentum as she said, “I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

Even as Celestia closed her eyes, Twilight kept staring. She eventually moved her eyes to Luna. The princess shook her head slowly.

Twilight’s head fell again, and her eyes became like pits. The silence lasted long enough for the moon to reach the distant mountaintops.

At last, Twilight looked to the looming double doors behind the princesses. “Let’s go, Spike.”

Slowly, Spike released his grip on Twilight’s leg. He kept one hand against her as he went through the motions of clambering onto her back. Once there, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her neck.

Twilight walked between the princesses, Celestia with her head still hung, and Luna staring harshly at Celestia. Twilight approached the exit slowly.

“Twilight.”

She stopped.

Celestia lifted her head and spun around to look at the alicorn and the dragon. “I cannot apologize enough for what has happened, but please try to make the most of the situation. Take my actions into consideration. There is a valuable lesson to be learned there about—”

“Stop.”

Celestia stopped.

Twilight turned halfway towards Celestia, froze for an instant, and finished turning. She looked up at her with gently quavering, somewhat slanted eyes.

“Don’t try to spin this into some lesson I’m supposed to learn. This… you messed up… I’m going to fix it… and that’s all there is to it. So, please, just… just don’t.”

Like shattered glass, the tension which had lingered in the air broke into a thousand shards, and a new sort of tension came to replace it. All Celestia could do was dip her head and say, “I’m so sorry, both of you.”

Twilight’s eyes still wavered, but her expression was hard. Spike’s face was softer, but he said nothing.

As the sun peeked its way over the horizon to signal a new day, Twilight and Spike left the throne room, signaling the end of something very old.