Twilight's Final

present day

Twilight grinned as she focused her telescope on the sun itself, her eye protected by the spell she'd cast on the eyepiece. Once she had it focused, she brought out the jig she'd assembled, one holding photosensitive paper, and hung it from the telescope. There was nothing she could to do to help it along for the next five minutes, and there was plenty of things she could be doing during that time, but nevertheless she stayed at the side of the telescope, her expression never wavering from the glee that she felt.

After exactly five minutes were up, she snatched the paper from its holder excitedly. “Yes! Seven days of sunny weather, that's all I needed.” She compared it to the previous days' records, and her expression shifted from glee to exultation. “EUREKA!”

Spike trotted up the stairs after her shout. “Wow! Whatever you've been working on must be pretty exciting, huh?”

Twilight turned to answer him cautiously, as if afraid that actually saying it out loud would mean her literal explosion from sheer joy. “Spike, since I became an alicorn, the mean solar output has increased by zero point three percent!”

Her number one assistant stared at her, then broke out a Fluttershyesque “Yay?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Spike! Princess Celestia has held the mean solar output constant for my entire life! That it has crept up since my coronation could lead to incredibly profound insights into the deep foundations of magic itself. And now that I have the time to study this...”

Spike smiled. Unicorns were the shortest-lived of the ponies, with an average lifespan of only seven decades or so, and he'd long suspected that Twilight's drive to achieve was, at least in part, an attempt to fit as much as she could into so short a time. “So, you're sure, then?”

Twilight nodded, glad that he finally understood the vast importance of her discovery. “Yes! Zero point three percent!”

Spike shook his head, his smile fading a little despite his best efforts. “I mean, that you'll have time.” He'd always expected to outlive her and the rest of his adopted family by centuries; and with few ties to other dragons, he had a lot of time to look forward to all alone. That his newly alicorned big sister would be around was a hope he hadn't had the nerve to voice out loud. Until now.

Twilight saw it all immediately. “Oh, Spike, I'm sorry.” At his downcast expression, she patted him kindly with a hoof. “I don't think I'll be as long-lived as Celestia or Luna. But alicorns are partly earth ponies, and, well, Granny Smith is over three hundred years old. She was there when Ponyville was founded, and she's still going pretty strong.” That Granny Smith seemed an exceptional case even for an earth pony was something she didn't feel like mentioning.

Spike nodded, and then hesitantly asked, “Could you ask Princess Celestia?”

Twilight shook her head. “The Princess has always been very quiet about her private life, and that of other alicorns. Their birth and death records are even sealed by royal decree. I guess I could ask, since this affects me too, now, but I really don't want to take advantage of our relationship as teacher and student.”

Spike sighed, downcast. “I guess I won't know for a while, then, huh?”

She couldn't bear to see him so, and that decided that. “You know what? I think now might be a good time to take advantage of my new status. What's the point of being a princess if I never princess, right? I don't want to get your hopes up, but I'll ask her to unseal the records for me. And remember, Spike, the most important thing isn't how much time we have together, but making our time together count, all right?”

“All right. But that won't stop me from hoping.”

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Celestia sat before her throne and nodded thoughtfully, or at least tried to seem like she was being thoughtful. She wanted the ponies coming to the Sun Court to know she took their concerns seriously, as indeed she did, but after ruling for millenia, she rarely encountered a situation that she hadn't already seen more times than she could count. Such familiarity and the easy answers it produced could seem all too easily like contempt for their troubles.

“My judgement is thus: you are to share equally in the expenses and profits resulting from this unexpected union. If one of you becomes unable to share in the expenses, that one can unilaterally divorce himself from the expenses, but at the cost of all profits from that time forward, irrevocably. Any attempt at fraud will come directly before this court and may carry serious financial penalties.

“And you are both hereby encouraged to keep your jackrabbits and antelopes, respectively, penned more securely from this time forward.

“Next case!” Actually, that had been one of the rare situations she had encountered a number of times she could count, but it was still a pretty big number.

Celestia looked at the next case, and smiled broadly. “Princess Twilight, my faithful student!” Her need to maintain neutrality in her court prevented any other expressions of fondness. “What brings you before the Sun Court?”

Twilight looked nervous, though, in Celestia's experience, Twilight frequently did. “I'm petitioning to have historical records unsealed for my research, your highness. The Alicorn Birth and Death certificates, please.”

Celestia also had millenia to practice keeping a straight face, but all such experience failed her now. “Court is hereby suspended,” she ordered curtly, leaving shocked expressions throughout the room. “Guard, please wake my sister and ask her to begin an emergency session of the Night Court in one hour. All remaining cases scheduled for the Sun Court today will have priority.”

She fixed Twilight with a stare that, predictably, her student misunderstood and quailed before. “Twilight Sparkle, please come with me.”

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The newly coronated alicorn was silent for the entire trip to Celestia's room, which made things easier for Celestia at least. One they were both inside and the door shut, Twilight started to plead, “Your highness, I'm sorry if I...”

“Twilight, I'm sorry.” Celestia's voice was hoarse with regret kept barely in check as she interrupted.

“You won't unseal the records?”

“I will unseal them for you, my faithful student, though I think I can answer your questions if you would like. But...” She turned to Twilight, her expression pleading. “I ask that you not pursue this matter at this time. Twilight, simply enjoy the next few years. You can become accustomed to your new status. You can spend time with your friends, and...”

“How dare you!” The new voice was cold, yet quaking with rage. Luna walked out of the shadow she'd kept herself cloaked in. “How dare you ever think that those close to you are more important than mine.” Twilight's jaw hung open, and then opened wider as Celestia turned, unable to face her sister. “You know this is our best hope. Tell her, Celestia. Tell her now, or I will.” Luna's declaration left no room for doubt, no room for pleading, and no room whatsoever for mercy.

“I'm...” For the first time in Twilight's memory, she heard Celestia's voice falter. “I'm sorry, sister. Forgive me. I'll tell her now, I promise. Please, attend to your court.”

Luna teleported away without another word, leaving Twilight more uncertain than ever. “Your highness? I'm sorry if I...”

“There's no need for you to apologize. I'll tell you everything, my faithful student.” Celestia's voice cracked at the endearment this time. “And I will spend the rest of my life asking you to forgive me.”

“Princess Celestia,” Twilight tried to explain. “I don't understand. I found a correlation between my coronation and the sun, and wanted to look at what happened when other alicorns arose. I'm sorry if I...”

Celestia held up a hoof, silencing Twilight. “Please, Twilight, let me explain without interruption. You would probably have figured this out on your own eventually, but in truth I should have told you long ago. We've ruled, my sister and I, for over 40,000 years. The tales told at Hearth's Warming Eve are, well, legends of what really happened. They contain the seeds of truth, but over so vast a time all tales become unrecognizable.

“I suppose I should start at the beginning. First of all, you see, our sun died millions of years before ponies as we know them were born.”