Chapters 1,000 years ago, give or take
Celestia gently, hesitantly touched her sister’s shoulder as Luna's sobs echoed from the castle walls. “I can't tell you how sorry I am,” she said. “I know I can never make it up to thee...”
Luna spun about and knocked the hoof away. “Thou knowest nothing! If thou did, there would no way thou could do this to me!”
Celestia recoiled, but felt her own ire rising. “Eternal night, Luna! Is that truly what thou want? No light, no warmth? No life?" She thought she saw the shadow of hesitation on Luna's expression, and pressed her case home. “Everything and everyone starving, freezing in the dark?”
“I don't care!” her sister screamed. “None of that matters anymore!” Her eyes widened with a forlorn hope that she could make Celestia understand. “'Tia, I deserve this. After untold thousands of years being the good little sister, I deserve this! I need this! Why can't I have this? Just this. That's all I ask. That's all I'll ever ask, I swear! I'll do anything, anything at all, big sister, if I can only have this one thing.”
Celestia approached, tears streaming from her own eyes as she tried to nuzzle, but Luna stepped back away. Celestia shook her head. “Luna, we discussed this long ago. I swear, if there were any other way...”
“There is a way! Just let me have this!”
“I can't!” Celestia screamed back.
Celestia's volume took her sister aback momentarily, but Luna's mouth settled into a hard line. Her voice shifted from pleading to an icy mock-formality. “Then We really have no 'big sister,' do We? And We never really knew you.”
“Luna, please!”
“No!” Luna stamped her hoof. “No! You ask too much!” She turned toward the third pony in the room, a bat-winged alicorn stallion who stood nearby. “Stalker! The Elements, quickly!”
“Stalker?” Luna asked, simply, unable to handle this of all betrayals.
The stallion's voice carried with it all the pain in the world. “I am sorry, dearest Luna. I only hope some day thou will be able to forgive me. Or at the least, to understand that I truly do love thee.” His eyes shut, then opened as he forced himself to look at what he'd done.
Luna turned to Celestia, eyes wide as she saw the multi-hued glow surround the crown, “No, 'Tia! Wait! We can...” Luna's voice became a piercing scream as the radiance shot out and enveloped her. The light seemed to sweep her away, her anguished sounds fading slowly away.
Celestia fell to her knees, weeping. The stallion crept up to her, his urgency overriding all caution. “What happened? What did you do?” he asked.
“She's bound within the moon,” Celestia answered, removing her crown and eying sadly the empty sockets where the Elements of Harmony once lay. It makes sense that there would be a price. If only this had been the dearest one. “We can channel warmth and life to her, Star Stalker. She'll live, We promise thee.” She got to her hooves, but turned away from the stallion, her head still hanging. “We're sorry.”
She chuckled, the sound more a dry mockery of humor than anything else. “It seems like that's all We can say nowadays. 'We're sorry.' 'Forgive us.'” She lowered her head even more, tears splashing against the floor. “We're sorry,” she repeated.
He touched a gentle hoof to her shoulder. “This was not your fault, Princess. And even if it were... If I cannot convince you that you are blameless in this... I forgive you.”
Celestia heard the words of comfort, but they simply sent her sobbing incoherently as she was struck again with the enormity of it all. Her guilt. Her loss. Her solitude. If he had only cursed her it would have been a blessing, something to rally against; his kind words felt like damnation, and the grief within his voice only underscored her own. Next he'd probably ask her to do it to him quickly, to be free from the pain he was in, and she couldn't even bear to give him that. It seemed to her that she would never be able to stop crying, and it seemed to her that it was nothing less than what she deserved.
Author's Note
Luna shifts from "I" and "thee" to "We" and "you" as another stab at Celestia. Basically she's declaring them no longer family or even close friends.
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.”
“Spike,” Twilight whispered as she tried to shake the baby dragon awake.
“Twilight,” he murmured sleepily. “You're back from Canterlot.”
“Yes,” she whispered back after a quick chuckle at the sleepy dragon’s grasp of the obvious.
“And you're trying to wake me up.”
“Can't get one past you,” she mocked gently.
“And we're the only ones in the library.”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“Then why are you whispering?”
Twilight blinked, then laughed. “I have no idea. I'm sorry, it's still early, but I thought you'd rather I let you know I was back than let you sleep in.”
“You thought right. But...” He sat bolt upright. “Twilight? Did you find out?” He knew immediately from her expression that it wasn't good news.
“I'm sorry, Spike. The truth is... The truth is that not even Celestia knows for sure. I'll probably only have the lifespan of a normal unicorn.” She cocked her head at him with a playful smile. “That means only, oh, fifty years more, give or take. So I wouldn't go all grief-ridden just yet, OK?”
Spike nodded, as bravely as only a baby dragon could. “I understand. And Twilight?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for looking into this.”
She patted his head. “Anything for my number one assistant. Get some more sleep, all right? We'll be a little bit busy tomorrow.”
“More sleep? You talked me into it. Good niiiiii...” Spike having given new meaning to 'fast asleep,' Twilight wiped away a tear, and hurried out of the room before her control broke further.
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Spike awoke again, this time to the unmistakable smell of pancakes with ruby chips. He hurried down the stairs, appetite in full gear by the time he hit the bottom step. “Twilight! You really did come back last night!”
“I did. But I have do have some bad news.”
“I remember,” he said glumly. “But I'm not giving up hope!”
“Me neither,” she replied. “But that's not what I meant. Spike, I don't know how to break this to you, but...” She trailed off as he sat down at the table, then hurried through as she set the pancakes in front of him. “IhavetogobacktoCanterlotforawhile.”
“You, um, can't what?”
“I have to go back to Canterlot for a while.”
Spike sighed, then nodded. “I can hold the fort for you, Twilight. I always have.”
“Spike, this time it's for a long while. It's, well, it might be for good.”
Spike stared at her in dismay. “But Twilight, all my friends are here in Ponyville now.”
“Spike, that’s the hard part. I can't take you with me for a while. I'm sorry, but I'll be studying and doing research all the time, and...”
“Then you need your number one assistant all the more!”
“Its all classified work, Spike, vital for national security. Don't get me wrong; I trust you. Celestia trusts you. But the royal guards and the nobility would never agree to giving security clearance to a baby dragon.”
“But I could just stay with you, couldn't I?” All regrets at leaving Ponyville had already slipped from the dragon's mind.
“Maybe, Spike, but for the first few months, anyway, I'll be doing research almost every waking moment. And I need you to 'hold the fort' for me, for both the library and for the girls. You need to help my replacement get on her hooves for a while, OK?”
“Your replacement? For the library or for your work with the others?”
“Both, I'm afraid. Mostly my work with the other Bearers, but as long as she's here, she'll be the new librarian as well. And Spike, I want you to visit me every week! Promise!”
“I promise, Twilight! I'll even work for the train tickets!”
“That won't be necessary. The balloon is yours now, Spike.” She looked back and flapped her wings a few times. “I was just using it for old time's sake, after all.”
“But...”
“Spike,” she interrupted. “You know I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't absolutely necessary, right?” He didn't answer, but his look told her that the understood. “And Spike, I'll miss you every hour of every day.” And Spike, someday you'll forgive me. This is one secret I could never trust you with. Especially you.
“So who's this replacement?” he grumped, looking forward to finding all kinds of flaws with her.
They heard the door to the library open, followed by a familiar voice. “Twilight? Trixie is sorry she's a little early. Trixie wanted to make a better impression this time.”
Spike was one of the few inhabitants of Ponyville whom nature had gifted with the body for a proper facepalm, and this seemed like the ideal occasion for it. “This day just gets better and better.”
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So,” Applejack asked sourly as they trotted back from Sweet Apple Acres. “We lose you and gain Trixie in the same day, huh? Ah'm afraid to ask what else yer gonna tell me that you couldn't tell me back home.”
“Well, the important favor... The more important favor, anyway, is to ask you to keep an eye on Spike. You're the most level-headed of all my friends, except maybe for a certain stubborn streak...”
“Hey now,” Applejack started to object.
“And even that might serve you well in dealing with Spike at times.”
Applejack swallowed her pride with a visible swallow, then nodded gravely. “You said 'the more important favor.' Which means one more's a-comin'.”
“Just give Trixie a chance. I know she's...”
“A pompous, egotistical...”
“Yeah, that. But she's in the top few percent of unicorns for sheer power, she's bright, she's not lacking for courage, and I'm sure her heart's in the right place. Now it is, anyway. And if she's to be able to use the Element of magic, she needs friendship.”
Applejack grimaced. “Givin’ us more solid way to keep you replaced. You ain’t sweetenin’ the pot none, you know? Ah don't suppose you have a few other baby dragons for me to take care of instead?”
“A.J., please.”
“And you ain't gonna tell us why it's so important that she be able to use your Element?"
Twilight winced. "I wish I could, A.J., I really do. I know it's asking a lot."
Applejack eyed her friend, then sighed and nodded. "Ah reckon as long as you say it's important, it's important. Ah’ll try my best, and that’s a promise.”
“That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”
“And if it still don't work?”
“In an emergency, Spike can send me a letter that same way he sends them to Princess Celestia, and I'll be back within fifteen minutes.”
“Fair 'nuff, I suppose. Anything else, sugarcube?”
Twilight thought about asking Applejack to let the rest of her friends know she was going, but quickly quashed that idea. She owed it to them to do that personally. “Visit me, when you can? I mean, I know you're busy with the farm, and I'll completely understand if you can't, but if you could, then do?”
“Hun, rabid manticores couldn't keep me away.”
Twilight smiled. “Thanks, A.J. I can't tell you how much I'll miss you all.”
“Tell us at the party you know Pinkie'll throw.” Twilight's expression of dismay brought a much-needed smile to Applejack.
“Now, if you'll excuse me, A.J., I'm off for something else really important.”
“What's that?”
Twilight thought about not telling her, but she'd easily enough find out later if she wanted. “I have to go ask Lyra to tell me everything she knows about humans.”
A month after moving back into the castle, Twilight was in her main laboratory poring over Nucleosynthesis by Earl Stanley Trottingham, with occasional glances at the Horsesprung-Rustle diagram. She gradually became aware of Celestia behind her, and jumped a little despite herself. “Princess! Why didn't you say something?”
“I did.”
Twilight sighed a little. “You could have tried again.”
“I did that, too, Twilight. Three times.”
“Oh.” Twilight grinned sheepishly, despite the seriousness of it all. “Sorry. Why are you here? You can't seriously expect progress yet, I hope.”
“No, Twilight.” She hesitated, all too aware of the awkwardness of the situation. “I came to make sure you aren't driving yourself too hard.”
“Celestia, I know you mean well. I admit, it was a shock, and to be honest I'm still not certain how to feel, but I certainly don't think you're a monster. You're doing what you have to do for everypony. And I'm doing fine.”
“Eating?”
“Of course. Well, sometimes. I think.”
“Sleeping?”
“A little on Tuesday, but I can make it through a couple days without sleep.”
“Tuesday was four days ago.”
“Oh. Again.” Twilight looked at her work, then at Celestia. “Your Highness, I'm busy with three, no, four trains of thought I just can't let go of now. And a little hard work won't kill me.” She'd said it matter-of-factly, but at the expression on Celestia's face she wished she could take it back. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know, Twilight. Again, I'm sorry. I would let you have all the days an alicorn should. You know that, right?”
“I already said I did...” Twilight wobbled a little, feeling faint for a moment, then looked back at her work again. “You know,” she said slowly, “It occurs to me that I can't afford to be so tired I make a mistake. If I miss something now it could mean years wasted. What would you say to tea back in my living room?”
“I'm afraid I'm really quite busy, myself,” Celestia demurred. What executioner wants a pleasant tea with her victim?
Twilight, however, knew how to work more than one kind of magic. “Tea and cake?”
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As Twilight set cups on the table in her own, rarely-used living room, Celestia lightly inquired, “Have you any leads at all, no matter how speculative?”
Twilight understood that Celestia couldn't let this go, and as she sent a piece for cake to her Princess she answered, “Possibly. It might be possible to shift the strong coupling constant in the sun, sort of catalyzing further fusion past the iron stage in a self-sustaining spell. It violates the hay out of conservation of energy, but that's something magic's always pretty good at, right? It's a long shot, though. At best, it could give us several million years, but by then, with further encouragement in technological and thaumological development, we might be able to find a better answer.”
“That sounds promising!”
“Well, there are a couple downsides,” Twilight admitted as she sat down.
“Yes?”
“First, I think that some unicorns have never gotten past the event that created you and Luna, in a kind of subconscious memory. This would require a lot of work on their part, and I'm sure they'd never let anyone else forget it.”
Celestia put down her tea. “It haunts me, what they did for Luna and me so long ago. I think subtle memories of that hideous sacrifice are why legends say the unicorns used to raise the sun and moon.”
“They didn't do it for you, Celestia, they did it to you. And you couldn't do anything about what some ponies did when you were born. Even the ones who did it, well, I won't say I agree with it, but they saved all life on the earth.”
“I know. Logically, anyway. And in any case there is much that really I do have to answer for. You may not see me as a monster, Twilight – I believe you mean that, and I am grateful beyond words -- but nevertheless, no matter how good my cause, I think must be one. I'm no better than a doctor who saves a life, only to turn around and take it.”
Twilight sat there, then quietly observed, “You haven't even touched your cake. I baked it myself, you know. Rarity even had two pieces on her last visit, and if you don't at least try it, I'm afraid I just might have to change my mind about you.”
Celestia smiled, her first honest expression of happiness in a while, then took a small bite. “That really is quite good. You mentioned another downside?”
“Well, there's a small probability...”
“How small?”
“Twenty percent, plus or minus seven.”
“Fairly small, then.”
“...That thaumic feedback would expand the spell exponentially, effectively using the sun's entire supply of iron within a second.”
Celestia blinked. “Oh.”
“Effectively, a supernova. The complete destruction of all life, and indeed our entire planet being vaporized in the blink of an eye.”
Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, a bit of a downside, I’d say. On the other hand, the problem with unicorn politics would become rather moot.”
“I'm still trying,” Twilight noted, looking a little hurt.
“Twilight, you misunderstand me. Even this faintest of hopes is better news than we've had in thousands of years. Speaking of news, how did your friends handle yours? And Spike?” The latter in particular worried Celestia. She had practically been an adopted mother to the little dragon.
It was Twilight's turn to look downcast. “Spike's being the brave little knight for me, I think. Pinkie, though, well, Pinkie didn't throw a farewell party.” Celestia froze in actual shock, but Twilight continued. “Spike's had one or more of them up here every week since I left, though, and I think they're doing better now.”
Celestia gave a very little smile of relief. “And how is Trixie settling in?”
“Trixie. Yeah. Well...”
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A few weeks earlier
The novice (and probationary) bearer of the Element of magic galloped headlong through a series of abandoned diamond dog tunnels, her cape trailing behind her as she heroically cried out, “Somepony save Trixie's flank!” As she galloped, the aura of her horn her only light, crystal outcroppings threw her light into treacherous shadows she was sure something would leap from. Others reflections showed the undead creature gradually catching up to her from behind.
“No escape,” it called mockingly. “Give it to me.”
“Anyyyponyyyy!” she cried before skidding to a halt as a wall loomed in front of her. She frantically looked for an escape, her breath ragged from terror and exertion. Finding no was out but back the way she came, she stared at her oncoming fate with determination, and galloped toward the monstrous vampotaur.
She's kidding , the vampotaur thought as he stopped in surprise. She's kidding, right? He pawed at the earth before charging directly at her again, until she was almost within his clutches. Suddenly Trixie gestured and he was blinded by a cloud of smoke. Hearing her hoof beats now close behind him, he spun around and tried to follow blindly. By the time he cleared the smoke she was out of sight, the sound of her hooves echoing through the branching tunnels.
“Trixie would still very much appreciate a rescue! Now would be a good time!”
“Ah'm a-comin', Trix!” Applejack hollered as the earth pony galloped her way from a side tunnel. Trixie met her halfway and stood panting, almost unable to speak.
“What's your plan, A.J.?”
Applejack stared at the undead minotaur, who was back on Trixie's trail and flying rapidly at them. Where Trixie had to run around stalagmites, their foe simply batted them aside with apparent ease. “Yeah. Uh. Ah'll run ahead of you and cut down on yer air resistance.”
Trixie looked at Applejack with disbelief, then shrugged. “Trixie doesn't have a plan, either. After you.”
When they reached a fork in the caves, the unicorn hoarsely shouted at Applejack. “No, left!” Applejack, without a word, backed up and galloped left, Trixie right after her.
“You've got an idea now, Ah hope?”
“Trixie hopes so too! Take the second right, and then another right. No, Trixie means a left!”
Trixie's plan led them gradually upwards to another wall, this one a mass of boards nailed in place. Their backs against a wall, the two mares shared a glance.
“Trixie,” Applejack began. “When we got saddled with... Er, when you were appointed as Twilight's replacement, Ah had doubts about you. Gradually, you done proved yourself. Ah just want you to know....”
“Trixie knows, A.J.”
Applejack shook her head. “Actually, Ah wanted you to know that after you led us to this dead end just now, after you supposed you had a plan, well, all them doubts are back again. Just reckoned you oughta know before we died horribly 'n' all.” At Trixie's sour expression, she added. “Hey, Element of honesty, remember?”
The vampotaur caught up to them at that point, it's stench a second later, and when Trixie reached beneath her cape for another smoke bomb, he batted her hoof away with inanthrobovinely quick reflexes. “Give me back the phylactery,” he seethed at her. “I saw you hide it under your hat.”
“And then you'll let us live?” Trixie asked.
The dark figure grinned horribly. “What do you think?”
“I think you don't know that how earth ponies do magic,” Trixie exclaimed, shifting into her stage persona. “Do you know how?” Trixie then turned to Applejack with what she hoped looked like a knowing, confident smile, and repeatedly glanced from her to the wall behind them, then made a little motion of a rear hoof against it. Applejack's eyes grew wide.
Their living-impaired foe, fortunately, had not been dead so long as to be immune to a literary hook. “How?”
“Misdirection.” Trixie doffed her hat, and took out what she'd hidden under it: an ordinary rock, which, in what was possibly her last dramatic performance, she bounced off the fiend's nose. “The others probably have the real thing halfway to Canterlot by now for disenchantment. Next time you die, you're staying dead. And, for clarification, Trixie means the not-moving-around kind of dead.”
“That won't save you,” he gloated. “And I will have time to make another. You will die now, having accomplished nothing.”
“Nuh uh!” the magician countered intelligently, “Because Trixie knows where we are, and, according to her calculations, Trixie know what time it is.” Though I wish they were Twilight's calculations, because I've never been very good at math. It didn't seem appropriate to say. She rather wished she hadn't even thought it.
The vampotaur, though, had gradually caught on to her delaying tactics, and simply grabbed her by the throat before she could dramatically announce where they were or when. Her first thought was that this seemed remarkably poor form. “Acklack, ow,” was all she could get out of her strangled windpipe.
Applejack was trying to pull the powerful creature's hands apart, but even her strength couldn't budge them. “Beg.” Tug. “Pardon.” Tug. “Trixie?”
“'uck...”
“Trixie! Such lingo from someone what weren't even raised in a barn. Oh, wait, Ah hear ya! 'Buck!' Consarn it, why didn't you say so earlier?” Applejack bucked hard, hooves virtually exploding through the wall behind them and opening the tunnel up to daylight.
Trixie fell from the dying, well, de-animating undead creature's grip before it tried to hobble away, but it was already turning to dust before their eyes. “'Where' was an old, sealed-up exit. Trixie studies the stage where she'll be playing. And 'when' was nine in the morning.” She felt more than a little cruel as she mocked a defeated foe, no matter how many diamond dogs had met a grisly end as his cud, but she couldn't deny the call of the moment.
“'Tain't even a quarter of eight,” her farmpony comrade corrected after a quick glance at the sun.
Trixie rolled her eyes as she picked up her hat and carefully brushed off the dirt and vampotaur dust. “Really, A.J. You have all the dramatic style of a dull plow.”
“Element of honesty here, Trix.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Back in the present...
“Trixie's doing OK, overall,” Twilight answered. “She can't seem to use the Element of magic yet, but the girls have warmed up to her faster than I expected. Spike less so, but, well, that'll be harder for him.” She stifled a yawn, but Celestia caught it and set down both her cup and now-empty plate.
“I really must be going, Twilight. I strongly advise you get a little sleep. And I insist on taking another piece of your cake.”
“For Luna?” Twilight inquired, so innocently that Celestia knew she was being mocked.
“Let's go with that.”
After Celestia had left, Twilight yawned a lot more freely, and climbed the stairs to her main laboratory once again. Just a few notes while they're fresh in my mind, then bed. If the catalyst spell can receive positive feedback, maybe a governor spell can be overlaid to provide enough negative feedback... As she opened the door her thoughts were shattered by the figure she saw inside, glaring at her from tear-reddened eyes.
“Spike?”
Celestia's guard entered her study after a quick knock. “Twilight Sparkle and... guest, your highness. She says it's urgent.”
“Send her in immediately, then no interruptions until I say, excepting matters of life and death.”
The guard gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement, then exited. Twilight Sparkle entered, looking even more drawn than a few minutes ago, followed by a floating, bound and gagged dragon wrapped in a purple glow. A quick spell from Celestia closed and locked the door behind them.
“How?” she asked. “My best guards and protective spells are set upon your quarters and laboratories.”
“Trixie can apparently teleport enough mass to get a small dragon past your guards,” Twilight explained, her voice devoid of all intonation. “Teleport him into a storage area unprotected by spells, but connected by a series of air vents too small for any pony to crawl through.”
Celestia closed her eyes. “How much does he know?”
“Enough,” Twilight said in that same dead voice. “He knows that alicorn lifespans have changed since your and Luna's ascension.”
Celestia looked at her with obvious concern, disturbed by Twilight's complete lack of expression, but had to ask, “You took precautions, I'm sure.”
“My copy of the alicorn records are encrypted, using my own personal key. That's a key only I and my 'number one assistant' know. Of course as soon as he saw something encrypted, he must have concentrated on that as the most important. And he's always been good with those.”
Celestia shook her head. “This was not your fault, Twilight. You did everything reasonable, and then some.” The first expression Twilight had shown, relief, flashed over her face, but too briefly for Celestia's comfort. “Release him.”
The gag and ropes disappeared back into the nothingness they'd been summoned from, leaving a very unhappy dragon behind.
“Spike,” Celestia started. “Let me explain.”
“Sure,” Spike literally hissed. “Explain. Lie to me again.” His claws curled in rage, and Celestia wondered if she'd actually have to defend herself.
“No, Spike. No more lies.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
One month ago, in Celestia's private chambers...
“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.”
To Celestia's surprise, Twilight didn't try to interrupt again. Celestia continued, “Our sun is what we call a white dwarf, cooling slowly. It's like... the dead body of a live star, glowing only from the heat it once had. Our earth was moved closer to it by the former inhabitants of this world before they lifted our ancestors into sapience.
“Lyra Heartstrings was right all along, in essence if not in detail. This world belonged to man, though she would not recognize them as they are now. They merged themselves with machines made of light, the legends say, and left for the stars. Before they left, though, they gifted our ancestors with intelligence and magic. You should realize that a lot of what I say about them is speculation, and all of it is sketchy at best, but I gather that they almost destroyed themselves several times, through their own drives. I think they wanted to give a more social, more naturally content species a chance, but unfortunately that may have hindered us as well.
“White dwarf stars cool very gently, but they do cool. After maybe a million years we'd progressed very slowly, and some 40,000 years ago our entire world was cold and dying, not just some region ponies migrated from as in Hearth's Warming Eve tales. It was a desperate time, and they did something very desperate indeed. You know from experience that cutie marks, and destinies themselves, can be altered, but I think you still don't know how much.
“Seven hundred unicorns they tried to change, not switching marks between friends but trying to come up with the destiny they desired. Five hundred and twenty-four died, some in agony.” Celestia shuddered. “For the spell, they had to be too young to have cutie marks of their own. Many of them were newborn foals.
“The rest, all but two, went mad. One of the two can keep the sun alive indefinitely. One can keep the sun alive for centuries, if need be, and beyond that... Beyond that, we don't know. The sacrifice of the initial foals, I think, is why the Hearth's Warming Eve tales speak of the unicorns raising the sun and moon. How many of that tribe know the truth to this day, I cannot say.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow at Twilight, and her student understood that questions were welcome. “The two. You? And Luna?”
“Indeed. We are sisters not in blood, but in origin... and in damnation. We do not raise the sun or moon, as is commonly thought. I sustain it, and Luna's 'stars' are her training to do so in case I fail.”
“And that gave you immortality?”
Celestia closed her eyes, and her voice was a whisper. “Not exactly.”
“I don't understand.”
“And I wish you didn't have to. Every century a few alicorns come into being, usually from unicorn stock, sometimes with the aid of myself and a select few scholars from each tribe. How isn't important right now, but we can do it only rarely. Beings that should live as long as an Earth pony, unicorn, and pegasus combined. The records you sought would have shown such lifespans before our rule. But now each ages quickly, living only as long as their birth tribe gave them.” Her eyes caught Twilight's. “And Luna and I live a while longer.”
In a space of seconds Celestia could see in Twilight's face: the realization, the refusal of it, and then, finally, acceptance. “You...”
“The same thing that made us alicorns and gave us the power to preserve life itself lets us tap the years other alicorns would have. Should have. They keep me alive to light the day, and they keep Luna alive in case she is needed.
“That is why Luna fled when the changelings invaded. Even if Canterlot fell, even if I died, she had to survive. If not for my little ponies, then for everything else.”
“How many?” Twilight asked through growing tears.
Celestia understood, and let go a great sigh before her horn glowed, filling the large room with golden ponies in miniature. “One thousand, one hundred, and seventy-two.” Her own tears fell now. “I brighten the sun a little at their ascension, and dim it as we have claimed them. One thousand, one hundred, and seventy-two graves filled early so that Luna and I could live.” She paused as her voice cracked again. “I remember them all, Twilight. Sky Skimmer. Bubble Champion. Silk Splendor. Good Gravy. Tiffany Glass. Square Deal. Gilded Lily. Ebony. Sweet Delight. Star Stalker...” She made a small choking sound, and had to stop.
Twilight knew, but didn't know how she knew. “That one with the Night Guard wings?”
Celestia nodded. “Star Stalker. His special gift was the night – not it's creation, but simply living and delighting in it. Ostracized for not looking like other pegasi, he grew to be perhaps the noblest soul I have ever known. One thousand years ago, Luna would have given up everything – and unlike almost every time somepony says that, I mean, literally, everything -- to spend one lifetime with him. Now she reshapes her pegasus guards into his image. I think she has at last forgiven him his sacrifice.”
“Then Nightmare Moon...?”
“Your perceptiveness does you credit. Remember what I wrote you when you mentioned a mare filled with jealousy that everypony ignored her night? 'Old mares' tales,' I said, and they were. But behind many legends, you'll find a kernel of truth. She would indeed have brought about eternal night, eventually, for that one love, and then in a blind quest for revenge and release if you had not restored her sanity. She and I would have lived a few more decades, and died, and thousands of years later the sun would have again been too cold to sustain life.
“I told myself that I wanted you to have a few years without the weight of this upon you.” Celestia's voice briefly hardened in anger, directed at herself. “But that wasn't it. It was a selfish lie I told myself to salve my conscience.” The anger evaporated as quickly as it came. “The truth was, I wanted a few more years before you hated me.”
Twilight sobbed silently, not knowing what to say.
Celestia turned away, and as she continued each word felt like a nail in the coffin holding whatever love Twilight could have ever had for her. “It's true that they would all have died eventually, but that's true for every victim of every murder. And if we died, Luna and I, if we went to whatever ill welcome we no doubt richly deserve, then our victims would still die, along with everyone else in the eventual long dark that came. And it would cost far more lives to create new avatars for the sun than we claim. 40,000 years, and we have yet to find a better way. Even Discord cannot help, though I feel he would, in this, if he were able. It is too contrary to his nature, and it seems even nearly omnipotent avatars have limits according to their natures.”
“And Cadance?” Twilight asked, bringing another note of pride to her mentor's heart as even now one of her first thoughts was for another.
“She will have a unicorn's lifetime, Twilight. She knows. I actually think it's a comfort for her, in a way, now that she's married to your brother.”
“Is this why Luna reacted so strongly to Nightmare Night?”
“The night where the Mare in the Moon devours ponies? Its existence is a coincidence, I think, but no doubt one that hit too close to home, especially as, in a way, she had wanted to stop a thousand years ago, and I forced it to go on.”
“And on and on until...?”
Celestia turned back, her expression for once not of anguish, or at least not pure anguish untempered by some trace of hope. “You're the most promising thing to ever happen to us, Twilight Sparkle. And that the Elements responded to you was, I think, a positive sign indeed. Maybe you can find a way to create another solar alicorn without the hideous cost of my creation, so that we can live our natural lifespans. Maybe you can find a way to keep the sun alive through a general spell that any unicorn could cast, or a group of them. A way to perform an age spell without having been thoroughly corrupted by an amulet first. A way to create alicorns faster, so we'd only have to take a few days from each. A way to take a few seconds from everypony, not just alicorns. Something we haven't even thought of yet.
“Make no mistake. I fear death, even after all these years. I simply fear more the cost of my continuing to live. I hope you will be my salvation. Our salvation, for Luna feels as guilty as I. And I hope that, some day, you'll forgive me.”
Twilight smiled bravely. “You're giving yourself too little credit, your highness. You're not taking from me anything you haven't first given.”
Celestia's expression darkened, and the predatory nature of the step she took toward Twilight sent a shiver through the younger mare. “You're young yet, my faithful student.” Celestia's tone was suddenly menacing. “When the years creep up on you, when every step eventually brings pain, when your wonderful mind begins to fail you at last and, for a while, you know it? What then?
Celestia took another step forward, and Twilight a half step back. “And what if I find a way to take advantage of dragons? If I give Spike another thousand years...” Another step forward. “And then take them away for myself? What would you do then?”
Twilight was shaking her head, silently mouthing denials as she ran out of room to back up.
Celestia still had room for another step forward, bringing her face to face with Twilight. Every word now landed like a blow. “Do you think it was coincidence that you hatched him? He's now connected through you. An alicorn. Now with an alicorn's magic.”
“No! ” screamed Twilight in a voice that echoed through the room, a flare of magic hurtling Celestia back. Twilight was half aghast at her own actions, but found herself bracing for a fight. Celestia, though, when she found her footing, just chuckled ruefully.
“I see you've found the Royal Canterlot voice. Twilight, Spike is safe,” Celestia said. “I had hoped, once, to use dragons, since it would hurt them far less, and there are many more dragons than alicorns. A few years from each would scarcely be missed, like a day from one of us. Spike's father, if he deserves that title, sold us the egg. It's purchase for my research was one of many foul compromises I've made, for all that it did seem safer with us than with 'family.'” She looked again into Twilight's eyes. “It didn't work, even after you hatched Spike's egg. I only tried to take a few seconds, I swear to you. And I apologize – yet again – for scaring you, but I had to made you understand what it would feel like to the next of kin. This is why we keep this secret. Imagine if it were Sweetie Bell? Or Apple Bloom, for some few, fortunate alicorns do come from earth pony stock.”
“Princess or not, Applejack would buck you into next week.”
Celestia chuckled again, this time with a little genuine mirth. “She would at that. But your friends and their kin are safe. Not, alas, from compassion's sake, though I wish I could say that was so, but from caution's. Too many ponies familiar with too many cases might arise if we preyed from the same area too frequently.”
“I'm glad,” Twilight quietly decided.
Celestia nodded knowingly. “And that, in essence, is why, no matter how much forgiveness we receive, we are guilty.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The present day, one wall of text later
“Do it,” Spike insisted. “I wouldn't miss a century.”
“I can only take from alicorns, Spike.”
“Please! I... I can't be all alone for so long.”
“I'm sorry, Spike. I simply cannot.”
The dragon no longer glowered, but hid his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he insisted through his tears. “She may forgive you, but I swear I never will.” Celestia accepted the condemnation silently, head bowed.
Twilight, her face now filled with concern, approached him, “Spike...”
“No! You can't let her use you like this. She's killing you.”
“Spike, she's asking me to kill her .” This made him look at her, if only in confusion. “Spike, I found something, not anything solid and it probably won't work, but it might let us keep the sun alive ourselves. That would have meant no more need for a solar alicorn, and that would have meant that Celestia would have grown old and died like anypony else. She was happy at the possibility.”
Celestia nodded. “Two friends, each with a reluctant knife at the other's throat, talking politely over tea. It was almost perverse enough to be politics,” she mused, smiling weakly.
“Tea and cake.”
“Very good cake,” Celestia assured her.
Spike looked angrily at Twilight. “How can you be okay with this? Stop being okay with this!”
“Spike,” she answered gently. “A very wise pony once said, 'the most important thing isn't how much time we have together, but making our time together count.'”
Spike sniffled. “You're the one who said that.”
“And I was at my very best, wisdom-wise.”
Spike almost smiled, before realization hit him. “This is all my fault, isn't it? I mean, that you know. It's all my fault! If I hadn't asked you to check...”
“Spike, I would have...”
“No,” Celestia interrupted. “No more lies. Not to him. Not even the most comforting ones.” She turned toward Spike. “Yes, Spike, she learned earlier because of that. I don't know when I would have told her, otherwise; Luna had been berating me to do so since soon after the coronation. But realize this – her knowing earlier gives her more time to find a way out. She might be able to save herself, and untold future generations of her kind, and perhaps more. If you feel you must take the blame for a few years or so spoiled, though there's no way you could have known, then you should take credit as well.”
Spike glared at her. “'No more lies,' you said?”
“No more lies, not to you. I cannot let this go public, and regrettably I do lie to them when I must.”
This was Twilight's turn to re-insert herself into the conversation. “Spike, for me, please? I'm sorry I lied to you, but please trust me now, this has to be a secret from everyone.” She feared that if he didn't agree, Celestia would indeed have to have him exiled, put in a dungeon, or put in a dungeon in a place she exiled him to, if not sent to the moon.
“For you, Twilight.” He scowled again at Celestia before turning back to the purple mare. “Only for you.” He sighed, then, and looked a little sheepish before saying, “But let's say, for a completely random example, that Trixie and the girls thought you and Celestia had been replaced by changelings?”
“Ah. A completely random example that would have been completely randomly started by...?”
“Well, it made sense that they'd take you first if they could, since you had a spell that could reveal them, and then you wanted to get away from those who knew you best.”
“It's OK, Spike. Though I don't know how to prove to them that I'm not a changeling. Even if I zapped myself with my stun spell, they couldn't be sure I was giving myself the full zap.”
“I'll take care of it,” Celestia said. “I'll invite them to my next 'Raising of the Sun'. They'll believe me when I tell them that a changeling cannot manage such a feat.” I simply won't tell them that their beloved ruler cannot, either. It seems now I can only convey the truth itself by using another lie.
“And I'll have my number one assistant with me,” Twilight noted happily. “You can't deny me that now, Princess.”
“I have no desire to do so. Your little brother will need a security clearance so high that even its existence is itself a state secret. I'm looking forward to seeing the expression on my Minister of State's face.”
“And as for the library...” Twilight mused.
“Trixie files books under 'T' for 'Trixie wants to read this later,'” Spike noted.
Twilight actually paled. “We'll send another librarian, Spike, even before your move back here. You've suffered enough.”
Author's Note
There's Celestia's dark secret in full, though not the end of the story. Any mistakes in grammar are my own.
Any mistakes in astrophysics are because astrophysicists use carefully crafted mathematical models backed up by much research, rather than going through the much easier method of reading pony fics. You think such smart people would know better.
Luna sighed softly as Twilight entered her private study, but regretted it when the younger alicorn stiffened in response. If I so much as whispered ‘boo’ she’d probably run so fast she’d leave a sonic rainboom. This thought helped her force a smile she didn’t really feel. “Try to relax, Twilight Sparkle. I know this will be difficult for us both, but there is no need for such anxiety.”
Twilight’s efforts to relax as ordered were visibly herculean, and Twilight’s awareness of this fact was making her even more ill at ease than when she’d first entered. Luna repressed another sigh, and instead raised an eyebrow. “Would it help if I told you to be nervous instead?”
Twilight looked puzzled, then embarrassed as realization set in. “I’m sorry...”
Luna held up a hoof, and Twilight fell silent. “Twilight Sparkle, it is my understanding that you and my sister spend half your time apologizing to each other nowadays. I wish to keep such to a minimum.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Luna deliberately chose a less formal tone for a better rapport. “I know that you and I have not spoken at any length about the search my sister has set you upon, but I can assure you that you have my full support.” She paused for emphasis. “And, if you should succeed, my profound gratitude.”
Twilight’s expression turned wry. “I don’t think I’ll ever know how to react to that. From you or her.”
Luna’s smile was genuine this time, if small. “I understand. It is not a wish to die, you understand, though in the past that has crossed my mind.” At Twilight’s look of alarm, Luna reassured her, “That is not the case now, Twilight Sparkle, but 40,000 years is a long time, and at a price I doubt even you can really imagine.” Her small smile faded. “Guilt and despair at times could become overwhelming.
“In any case, I hope that the grave is not the end. I know not what fate will befall us should we ever escape this too-costly immortality, but there are some ponies I would brave anything to meet, if only one more time. Ponies who were as close to me as you are to Celestia.”
Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, but not quickly enough for Luna to miss. “Yes, and closer,” Luna said sadly. “Do not worry. Celestia broke no trust when she told you that, and, thanks to what you and your friends did for me that summer night, I can now bear my loss. Together, you did what a thousand years could not.”
“You were aware the whole time?” Twilight’s chided herself silently as soon as it was asked, but Luna simply nodded.
“It was... difficult,” Luna admitted softly. “Even after tens of thousands of years of living, one thousand more, all alone, do not pass quickly.” She turned her gaze from Twilight out the window to where her namesake hung in the sky. “And my escape was not entirely complete. A little of my essence is still there, though less with each passing year. You must have seen how I’ve changed since you freed me. That remainder will let me get us there.”
“A thousand years alone. How did you stay sane?” Especially knowing that some of the years you passed there came at the expense of your lover.
Luna neither looked at Twilight nor responded.
After a time, Twilight answered her own question. “Oh,” she said, in a very small voice. “I’m sorry, Princess. Your sister once told me that there were no stupid questions, but it looks like I found one. And I didn’t mean to pry quite that much.”
“Your curiosity is perhaps your greatest gift, Twilight,” Luna responded without heat, albeit a little grudgingly. “I must admit that I discuss that time with very few, and with no one easily. However, I know you’ve taken on a very heavy burden in our service, one that must be as costly to you in a way as anything I’ve had to do. Knowing that, I simply cannot bring myself to deny you your answers.”
Twilight nevertheless changed the subject to something hopefully a little less painful for them both. “You said you saw something there?”
Luna was visibly grateful for the shift. “Yes and no, Twilight. Understand, I was not on the moon, but bound within it. Not like a seed in a pod, but like sugar mixed with sand. Or perhaps a better simile would be sand stirred into cold, or light blended with sound. My perspective was very different.
“I sensed a power. It’s hard to explain the sensation. It felt -- if felt is the right word -- like a speck of buzzing upon my skin,” Luna explained haltingly, not from pain but as if searching for words to convey meanings that language was never meant to. “Not painful. In fact neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. Not magic; I would have recognized that. I ‘saw’ something there, but not really with my eyes. I do know it was an artifact, a made thing.
“I can get us there, and by leaving a trail... Sorry, words again fail me. But I can get us back if I do so within a day. I am confident that I can transport five others, as well as you and I.” She paused again, and said, “I would recommend unicorns where possible, to spread the burden of the spells necessary to keep us alive. Would that give you any ideas about whom you’ll be taking?”
“Lyra, for one.”
“I thought she had already told you all she knew of humans.”
Twilight carefully chose her words as she corrected her diarch. “She told me all she thought that she knew, Princess. She’s undoubtedly forgotten much, but something may jog her memory there.”
Luna nodded. “Sensible. Might I also suggest Rarity and Trixie?”
“Rarity’s next on my list, Princess, on the chance her gem-finding spell finds anything unusual. She’s a natural at it, where it’s still difficult for me. Trixie, though?”
“She is intelligent and accomplished at spellcraft, Twilight. I will not insist, but I do strongly recommend her inclusion.”
“OK, Princess,” Twilight capitulated, not having a real reason to exclude her. “Applejack also, simply because she’s as cool a head in a crisis as you’d ever find. And Pinkie Pie.”
Luna’s eyes widened in real surprise at that last. “You’re kidding. You’re kidding, right?”
Twilight carefully hid her smile at Luna’s reaction. “Your Highness, she has senses I’ve never been able to explain. I know she seems, well, flighty, but she’s responsible when she needs to be. I think Fluttershy would rather stay home and care for the girls’ pets than go somewhere so barren of life, and Rainbow Dash wouldn’t like being grounded. She won’t like being left behind, either, but I’ll make it up to her later, somehow.”
“Very well,” Luna said. “If they agree to an oath of secrecy, we will reveal the destination of our little excursion, as well as our immediate goal of looking for ‘man-made’ artifacts, but nothing of your true goal. Would you consider that to be enough for informed consent?”
Twilight hesitated. “I’d also need to tell them that there’s more that I can’t tell them. I’m sorry, Princess, but it just wouldn’t be right, otherwise. And initial test runs with just you and me, please. After that, well, I’m not really comfortable with my friends taking this risk, but if I didn’t let them decide for themselves, I’d feel even worse.”
“Of course, Twilight. I had always planned on test runs, and I should have thought of the other, myself. I did tell my sister that it would be best if you and I went alone, but she values your friendship with them very highly. And I have to agree that you are always at your best with your friends at your side.”
Luna levitated a pair of bound scrolls to Twilight. “Our astronomers’ best map of the area I will be taking us to. I can only hope our goal is within walking distance, but we can make other trips if needed. The other one is Deep Diver’s life support spell. Our mages are already working to adapt it.” She raised a brow again. “I thought you just might be interested in aiding them.”
The newest princess had not missed her promotion from “Twilight Sparkle” to just “Twilight” as Luna spoke, and now got the impression that she was, just maybe, being teased. Her face kept carefully neutral, she nodded. “Right away, Princess!”
Luna shook her head. “In the morning, Twilight. And please don’t spend all night studying. A few of our most learned thaumophysicists were shown parts of your catalyzation spells for fusing iron, and I had to personally convince one to not leave his career and take up topiary instead. If you show up tomorrow with our mages’ work already done for them they’re bound to take it equally hard, and the castle grounds already has enough gardeners.”
Twilight smiled and politely took her leave, her mind no doubt working on the spell before she even opened the scroll.
Which left Luna silently gazing at the moon.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“So there really is nothing you can do?” Celestia asked from behind her teacup, her expression guarded. She and one other were in a meadow drenched in the scent of wildflowers and birdsong, and few things could have spoiled it. One did.
“My dearest Princess! You wound me!” The draconequus clutched one claw to his breast to illustrate just how incredibly astounded he was at her completely unfounded suspicions. “For one thing, I would now help, if I could. That would make Fluttershy happy, and when she’s happy, I’m happy. And I doubt even you know what it’s like to find a new motivation after a million years. It’s, oh, how would you say it...” He tapped thoughtfully on his chin. “I know! ‘Shiny!’” A frown crossed his face, “No, no, that’s not it...
“For another, if I could have severed the bonds between the Elements and their bearers, I would have done so back when I was doing my old twirl-the-mustache bit. I was able to make the Elements unusable, but they still firmly belonged to their bearers.”
His eyes got a hooded look. “And yes, in this you can trust me. If mischief were my real motivation here, I would simply say ‘yes.’ Imagine if you had to ask your bearers to have their personalities, shall we say, ‘adjusted,’ again, for a time, for you to achieve whatever goal you are obviously that desperate for.”
Celestia looked into Discord’s eyes and saw two things. First, he hadn’t quite completely forgiven her, no matter how genuine his friendship with Fluttershy was. Second, and worse, he was telling the truth. If they did try Starswirl the Bearded’s spell, even if they could get an Element to bond to Celestia, destinies would be scrambled again among all the bearers. That many lives spent in misery was too high a price to pay every time a new solar alicorn was needed.
Discord brought a plate out of nowhere, and cheerfully offered “Cupcake?”
“Thank you, no.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Rarity poked at a rock. “Are you sure there’s no air?” Words that would echo throughout history, and in coming years frequently cause her to wish she’d chosen something more grand. “One small step for a unicorn” would have done nicely.
Twilight, her horn glowing softly, nodded. “No air, and way too little heat for us here right now.”
Pinkie Pie was poking at another rock. “But I thought we needed all that stuff.”
Twilight closed her eyes briefly, as if in pain. “And I thought we explained all that at the briefing. Luna, Trixie, and I are using a life-support spell, adapted from deep sea diving. Well, mostly Luna. Rarity and Lyra will help if needed.”
Pinkie gave Twilight an apologetic glance. “I listened carefully, even after you said ‘inversion of force vectors’, and it isn’t easy for me to listen to ‘inversion of force vectors.’ But by the time you got to ‘dissociation of see oh two,’ well, maybe my listening wasn’t so great anymore?”
Twilight rolled her eyes heavenward. If that direction meant the same here. “That’s OK. I can give you a copy of my notes after this. The spell itself isn’t classified.”
“Oh. That. Would. Be. Great.” I can at least make them into a few paper hats. Wait, these are Twilight’s notes. I can make them into a lot of paper hats!
“Even we cannot maintain these spells indefinitely, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna interjected. “We should make haste.”
Twilight, though, was now looking at the same thing every other pony but one was staring at. Hanging above them was the Earth, wrapped in clouds, pale blue and beautiful.
Luna grimaced and actually nudgedTwilight. “Twilight Sparkle?”
“I’m sorry, Princess,” the lavender alicorn said, shaking her head. “It’s just so...” She shrugged and laughed. “I don’t even have words for it.” The near side of the Earth had been shrouded in night during the test runs with just Luna and herself.
“The sight is a familiar one to me,” Luna responded darkly. “And it means something entirely different.” Even Pinkie looked sorry as they heard the pain in her voice.
“My apologies, Princess. Girls, we should get going. This area is really flat, like some kind of dead sea, if that were possible. We’ll have to make that really tall crater rim peak the center of our search. Remember to stay close for the communication spell.”
Seven ponies moved across the lunar landscape in silence.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The silence was temporary, of course, as Pinkie’s spirits were as hard to keep down as Pinkie herself. “You really should try this!” Bounce. “With the lower graverty...”
“Gravity,” Twilight corrected. Again. I know she’s not an idiot. I don’t understand why she just can’t get that one word right.
“...here, this is a lot easier than walking.” Bounce.
“I prefer to walk,” Luna said neutrally.
“I hate to admit it,” Lyra spoke up nervously. “But I think she’s right.” She bounced again, experimentally. Twilight was proud of her.
Over the years, Twilight had grown to expect the other bearers of the Elements to brave dangers, even Fluttershy; but this was Lyra’s first adventure, and the danger was there no matter how careful they’d been. The search for human artifacts on the most likely place for them to be preserved must be a strong lure. Then again, maybe this just isn’t as scary as the Grand Galloping Gala turned out to be.
“Trixie finds she must agree!” Bounce.
“Yee-HAW! I feel lighter ‘n’ a filly on a cloud!” Bounce.
Twilight caught Luna’s exasperated look, and whispered “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten used to them, and I forgot how distracting they could be.”
Luna’s expression softened a fraction and she whispered back, “Let your friends have their fun, within reason. They are, technically, risking their very lives for my sister and I, even if they do not know it.”
This was Twilight’s turn to be unsettled as, once again, one of the diarchs expressed hope for their own eventual demise. “I’m just glad we made it ahead of the Cutie Mark Crusaders,” she joked. At Luna’s blank expression, and catching pained expressions from at least two members of the expedition, Twilight sighed and asked, “Any idea where it was?”
Luna shook her head. “As I said, it was a different viewpoint, Twilight. I’m afraid I’ve narrowed it down as far as I can.”
Twilight nodded. She turned to one of the few ponies not bouncing along like a grinning beach ball. It looked like she secretly wanted to, but no doubt ‘a lady in a truly smashing flight suit simply doesn’t do such things.’ “Rarity, any hits?”
“Hits? Oh. No, Twilight. There are some few gemstones, and what you described as ‘shocked quartz,’ but nothing truly intriguing.” She looked about. “The setting excepted, of course.”
“Everything OK, Rarity?” At the sound of Twilight’s concern, Applejack and Trixie bounced over to them.
“My apologies, Twilight. I was remembering something Sweetie Bell told me.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Two days ago...
“You can’t!” Sweetie Bell looked both shocked and dismayed with her older sister.
“Sweetie, it’s very important. Twilight would never have asked, otherwise,” Rarity said. “I can’t tell you where we’re going, but Luna assured me that it’s as safe as everypony can make it. I’ll be back home a day or two after we leave.” And if this ever goes public, a shot of Princess Luna in a Rarity-designed flight suit could make my career!
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Present day...
“There were a few tears, but she understood, Twilight,” Rarity reassured her friend at the latter’s look of dejection. “You know how fast they bounce back at that age.”
“If we’re sharin’ tales, Ah’ve got one too,” Applejack inserted quickly enough to head off an alicorn-strength guilt storm on Twilight’s part.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Two days ago (again)...
“Dangerous?” Apple Bloom asked, sounding mildly curious as she worked on her homework.
“A mite, but nothing we can’t handle,” Applejack answered. “Ah know you may not like it, but Twilight can fly off the handle a little now and then, and ‘twixt Rarity and Trixie I reckon I can’t say which one’s the Element o’ drama.”
“OK,“ Apple Bloom responded.
Applejack paused, then, knowing she shouldn’t, asked, “And you ain’t even a little worried?”
“Naw. Ah’m sure you’ll handle it. Better than Ah’ll handle this math problem. Say, Applejack, if train A leaves Canterlot an hour before train B leaves Fillydelphia...”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Present day...
Twilight chuckled. “What can I say, A.J.? Save Equestria a few times and it’s bound to raise expectations.”
“Trixie wishes she had that excuse,” the magician said a little sourly.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Two days ago (last time, I promise)...
“So Trixie will be going on a dangerous mission,” she explained to the latest Ponyville librarian, Swift Shush. “One vital for national security, though I cannot tell you what it is.”
“That’s nice, dearie,” the elderly librarian answered as she worked on the index cards. “Is it going to be cold?”
“Trixie actually isn’t sure. But if Trixie doesn’t come back, please ensure my father is notified.”
“Of course, dear,” Swift Sush replied absently. “And if it is cold, be sure to wear a scarf.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Present day...
Twilight chuckled, and when Trixie joined her, so did Applejack and Rarity. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Trixie,” Twilight said. “Swift Shush helped train me, and she’s always been more into books than ponies.”
“Nevertheless,” Trixie said, “Trixie appreciates the faith you’re showing by including her in this, Twilight. Trixie will not let you down.”
“That’s, well, great, Trixie.” And that little ‘sproing’ you just heard was my guilt-o-meter pegging. “I have every faith in you.” And a small confession to make, when there’s time.
“By the way, Applejack. ‘Element of drama?’” Rarity asked, not quite hiding a smile. If it had distracted Twilight, Applejack’s story had been worth it, after all.
“Ah’m gonna pay for that, ain’t I?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Twilight!”
“Not now, Pinkie.”
“But I saw thought I saw something.”
“Once again, there are no aliens here, Pinkie.” Then Twilight’s nagging need for exactitude struck. “Except us, technically.”
“But...”
“Or little green ponies of any kind. Except Lyra. Technically.”
“But... Twilight...”
Twilight could somehow sense the earth pony’s disappointment, and turned to the downcast baker/astronaut. “I’m sorry, Pinkie. Keeping this spell up for over two hours is giving me a little bit of a headache.” ’Little’ in the same way that Prince Blueblood can be a ‘little’ rude. “What did you see?”
“Oh, it was probably nothing, I guess. Just a flash of light.”
Twilight stared hard at her, and Pinkie unexpectedly flinched. Have I really been that grumpy? I’ll need to make it up to her later, too. “Show me.”
“Well, it’s not that simple.”
“Why am I not surp... Wait. Pinkie, it’s OK, really. Just tell me in your own way.”
Pinkie smiled broadly at her, and Twilight could swear she saw just a hint of payback in that grin. “You have to bounce.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Indeed, it could only be seen from the top of a good, hard bounce, and it took many tries before Twilight herself glimpsed it. Without the bit of added altitude it was hidden by a scattering of boulders the size of carriages. “Good work, Pinkie!”
“And I would never have seen it if it weren’t for the grabbity!”
“Grav... Never mind. Everypony follow Pinkie! Carefully!”
And Pinky was right -- bouncing was easier.
In another half hour they were close enough to make out a general shape, but the appearance of progress deceived them. Without air to obscure their target, and with a horizon that didn’t match instinct, it took a great deal more time before they actually got to it than they expected, and Rarity had to take over spell-sustaining duties from Trixie. Twilight, and even Luna, looked near exhaustion.
There was a very rare flash of light here and there from around their target, and when they reached a large, red circle set in the ground, a virtual corruscation of light swept across the lower outline of a dome. What was within the dome was gold in color, most of it, with other metallic colors here and there. Nearby was a multi-colored pennant Twilight didn’t recognize. There was a set of plaques just inside the circle, one matching another Twilight saw on a leg of the odd structure.
“Is that one of their houses?” Applejack asked incredulously.
“I don’t think so, A.J. This looks like some kind of laboratory. Or maybe a monument. Nobody touch anything,” Twilight said as she studied the plaque that had caught her eye. “And stay away from -- Lyra!”
Lyra had ventured too near the circle already. She was frozen in place, shuddering violently as the spell keeping her alive ran into whatever mysterious forces comprised the dome. Luna’s horn suddenly flared too bright to look at as she fought for the agonized pony, casting stark shadows everywhere. Lyra gasped, an ugly, choking scream tearing itself from her throat before a brilliant flash of light dazzled their eyes.
When Twilight could see again, Lyra was lying on the surface, thrashing about as she gasped for air. The dark glow of the life support spell had been shattered completely, and the mysterious dome was gone.
“Lyra!” Twilight braced herself and concentrated.
“Twilight,” Luna asked frantically, “How long to set up the spell again?”
“Three hours by my checklist!”
“She doesn’t have that much time!”
Twilight nodded as she wove arcane forces. “I’m trying to shave that down.... Hang in there, Lyra!” Air first! No, that would tear a hole in her lungs without external pressure! “Everypony else away from her, give me room!”
“No ,” Luna said. “Everypony gather around her. Now. ”
Seven ponies left with a silent flash, leaving the surface barren again.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“It was all my fault,” Twilight insisted as she paced in front of the window. On the other side, in positive pressure suits, medical staff worked methodically on a now-awake Lyra.
“Twilight,” Celestia tried to interrupt gently.
“I should have told them to be more careful! I let the excitement carry me away...”
“Twilight,” Luna started.
“...and it was all for nothing! I didn’t think fast enough, either. Those sparkles were caused by whatever was protecting the thing. When we walked up to it we must have kicked dust onto the dome. Lyra got close enough for her spell to brush it, and...”
“Twilight,” even Trixie began. She, Twilight, and Luna had been released from their examinations first in case they could offer aid, though it had proven unnecessary.
“...but nooooo! I wanted to go to the Mooooon....”
“The doctors say she’ll be alright, Twilight,” Luna reassured her. Again.
“Sure, if she comes out of isolation OK. She was exposed to whatever moon germs were up there, just ready to leap onto an innocent mare whose only crime was following an incompetent...”
Luna looked at Celestia. “Was she always like this?”
“....blew up the only working artifacts, priceless knowledge lost...”
“Indeed. Even in magic kindergarten, it was as if she bore the weight of the entire world upon her shoulders.”
“...maybe they can name the site ‘Twilight’s Folly,’ and everybody can come see...”
“Perhaps we can find some other was to pass the time until she calms down? I spy, with my little eye, something white.”
“...stellar example of how not to perform the first ever extraplanetary exploratory expedition...”
“Something white, Luna? In a hospital? That’s practically cheating.”
“I play to win, sister.”
“...what to tell Bon-Bon if something bursts out of Lyra’s chest and starts eating people...”
The use of the royal Canterlot voice was clearly inadvisable in a hospital, so Celestia waited until Twilight was passing and whispered into her ear, “Pop quiz!”
“YES!” Twilight shouted reflexively, earning a glare from the medical staff. She grinned weakly at them. “Um... sorry.”
“You did get a good look at that plaque?” Celestia asked.
“Yes. Here...” She telekinetically grabbed a piece of paper and a quill from a nearby desk and drew the odd shapes and characters as best as she remembered them, and handed it to Luna. Unseen, Trixie gently took the paper from Luna.
Twilight closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I risked all those lives and found nothing. The entire trip was a total failure. And the only thing we have to show for it is...”
“Trixie has translated the plaque!” the newest Element of magic announced proudly. “All that time spent searching for the amulet did not go completely to waste after all. Mastering translation spells was an early step.” She handed the paper to Twilight.
“Great,” Twilight said after a glance. “This was from their very first journey to the moon. So whatever I found was the least advanced bit of technology I could have, in fact, ever found! I was afraid of that when I saw that even the continents on their map were different.”
Celestia sighed and, with a flair of her horn, bodily picked Twilight up and turned her toward the window before setting her back down. On the other side of it, with all sorts of tubes and wires hooked up to her, sat Lyra. The unicorn had bloodshot eyes and was suffering from an occasional coughing fit, but those did nothing to dampen her gleeful expression. She saw Twilight looking and waved happily. Twilight’s wave in return was much more hesitant.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia told her, “You are a magnificent student and, more importantly, a good friend, but you can be entirely too focused at times. Remember that you courageously risked life and limb in our service. Also, men must have once had much more on the moon that just this, I think. That they removed all of it except this one, carefully preserved site? I think they meant for us to find this. Perhaps to show that they were here. Perhaps simply to remind us of how far we can grow.”
Her voice lowered again so Trixie could not hear. “And even if it turns out that you did not, this time, help my sister and me, that certainly doesn’t mean that what you found wasn’t important. There are more ponies than just Luna and I. And right now I think you have a friend who would be very happy to see this particular piece of paper.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Lyra’s hooves shook as she read. “‘Men from the planet Earth’... ‘For all mankind...’ Twilight, this is the happiest day of my entire life!” Lyra paused a bit in her excitement. “Don’t tell Bon Bon I said that, all right?”
Within her isolation suit, Twilight grinned. She felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders, if only for a little while. “I promise. And I will personally see to all her needs until you’re released from isolation.”
“All her needs?” Lyra asked.
“Yes,” Twilight reassured her eagerly.
Lyra raised a brow. “All her needs?”
“Yes, Lyra, every single need and....” Twilight was thankful the suit hid her blush. “What I mean to say is, you’ll be out of here in no time.”
Lyra grinned at her. Teasing an alicorn was her second adventure today, but after her brush with death she felt oddly invincible. She shook the paper. “And this?”
“Celestia says she has to consult with her ministers, but that she’s ninety percent confident that it can be declassified.” That they’d found other nations had already been searching for powerful human artifacts and universally coming up empty had more to do with it, but that was a detail Lyra didn’t need to know. “You are going to be one famous mare!”
“Oh, it’s more than that. This validates me, my grandsire, his great-granddam, and more! Princess, thank you.”
“I have to get going now, Lyra,” Twilight said apologetically.
“Sure, Twilight. Oh, wait!” Lyra paused with uncharacteristic uncertainly.
“Yes?”
“Twilight, do you know anything about ‘seaponies’?”
Author's Note
Yeah, this was a bit of a diversion. Andrew Talon's Progress story here -- one of my all-time favorites -- never got Luna to the moon, because it had a hard time fitting the story. Not cursed by such integrity, I always wanted to put ponies there, and I especially wanted to put Pinkie in low gravity.
The next chapter will have the climax -- this story was never meant to be open-ended.
Also, to head off the objections of some, I could find nothing in the scientific literature saying that unicorns explode in a hard vacuum
“Alicorns don’t breed true, right?”
Celestia finished her sip of tea before she nodded. “Unfortunately correct, even on the rare occasions there are male alicorns, and Star Stalker was the last to date. It’s not quite a true tribe, like earth pony or unicorn.”
Twilight shrugged unhappily, her own tea ignored. “I thought so. Otherwise Luna and Star Stalker would have had lots of alicorn foals, and you would have been able to take a lot less time from each, and---”
“Indeed,” Celestia interrupted, her expression briefly shadowed. She reminded herself that Twilight did tend to get focused on the intellectual aspects of a problem to the exclusion of all else, and that she was terribly over-worked, besides. Being so casual about consuming the life from one’s nieces and nephews was only a little bit rude, perhaps, in this context.
Her student hadn’t noticed. “So we're really still unicorns?”
“Genetically, anyway. Though I hardly even think of myself as a unicorn, after all these years.”
Twilight remembered her own tea long enough to set it back on the table in Celestia’s study. “OK, so, we’ve discussed time travel...”
“Which never works. The travelers simply become incorporated into the past events.”
“Starswirl’s spell.”
“I cannot use the Elements, and even if I could, that spell drives its subjects to near-madness.”
“Renewed fusion.”
“Far too risky.”
“Human artifacts.”
“It would appear that they did an excellent job of cleaning up after themselves, unfortunately.”
“Signalling humans for help.”
“It’s been tried. They either no longer care, or something else has stopped them. When I sleep too well at night, I have but to ask myself what -- or whom -- that might be.”
Twilight pondered that, briefly. “And thanks for that cheerful thought.”
“My apologies. You’ve examined the book on the spells used to ascend my sister and I?”
Her student nodded uneasily. “That book makes my skin crawl. I tell myself that it’s just me knowing what the spells were used for, but I’m not sure I believe me.”
Celestia pressed the conversation more to the point. “Did you find anything useful?”
“Oh, sorry. It might be possible to transfer your solar ability to another without using Starswirl’s spell.”
At this, Celestia’s brow raised, not daring much hope since Twilight had not mentioned it earlier. “I thought you said we did not have enough power, even with all the unicorns and alicorns combined.”
“Necromancy,” Twilight said matter-of-factly.
Celestia shivered in spite of herself. “No. We wander too close to that already.”
“I wasn’t recommending it, Princess, I just wanted to know if you had any ideas that might help us find something more, well, palatable.” She pulled a set of notes from the larger stack she’d brought.
The solar princess hesitantly looked over the notes as they talked. “Please continue.”
“The only spell I’ve come across that might work would require the sacrifice of a powerful mage. Someone of your level, Luna’s, Trixie’s, or mine. Someone in their prime, as well. At that moment, your cutie mark could be given to somepony else.
“That lucky pony would just give us a little bit of hoof or mane or such to focus on, and end up an powering the sun, and an alicorn besides. The unlucky pony that fueled the spell instead, well...”
Celestia’s silence stretched as she read, on before she shook her head. “One life consumed to lend my ‘gift’ one more lifetime. It would be the same cost as alicorns pay today.”
“No, Princess. The death in the grip of that particular spell would be, well, extremely unpleasant. Subjectively, like being torn apart and burnt to ashes, while conscious to the last. A lot less pleasant than old age.” Other than a touch of somberness, Twilight’s voice was without much inflection.
Celestia put that down to the horror of the spell itself. “Please leave me your notes, and I will see what I can do.” She then turned an appraising look upon her student. “I heard that Spike has returned to Ponyville.”
“For a time. He wanted to go see the running of the leaves, but I gave him the whole month off, instead. He was pretty bored just hanging around. This will give him time to catch up with his friends there, too.”
“‘His’ friends?”
“Sorry, I meant our friends.”
“Did he want to go alone?” Celestia asked, too innocently.
Twilight shrugged. “I can’t take time off to go watch leaves fall off trees, Princess. In fact, I’ll be able to get more done without the distraction of my little brother underhoof.”
“I do worry, Twilight. I've never seen you look as tired as you have these past six months. It’s been months since your friends have visited you, as well.”
Twilight grimaced. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to chat with them, but there are only so many hours in a day. Generations of future alicorns depend on me, to say nothing of you and your sister. With all due respect, your Highness, you of all people know how important my work is.”
“Of course I do. Make no mistake, I appreciate all you have done, and all you are doing, but there is more to life than my sister and I. You need to live it.”
“I will. I’ll take a very, very long vacation after I’ve got this figured out, I promise.”
Celestia smiled at Twilight. “Perhaps that’s a discussion best saved for another day. In the meantime, I received the most marvelous cake from Fillydelphia yesterday. I intend to have two slices tonight, and, by royal command, I intend you to have some as well.” She closed her eyes briefly, her horn glowing. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been able to convey how much you mean to me, my faithful student.” The door opened, and a formation of cake, plates, and silverware floated in. After very exacting cakesliceomancy, a serving set itself in front of each of them.
“I have never felt unappreciated, Princess.” Twilight took a bite, then recoiled with a small cry of pain.
“What’s wrong?” her mentor asked with concern.
“Ah mub ab... Sorry. I must have hit my tongue with the fork.”
“Pretty well, too, it would seem.” Celestia pressed at Twilight’s lips with a glowing napkin, then showed Twilight the blood that had soaked in. “Your tendency to over-achieve should not extend to self-impalement," she chided. “I’m afraid that does it. I’ve never known you to be so clumsy with telekinesis. You’re exhausted, and you’re too exhausted to realize it.” Celestia set the napkin down, and her expression firmed. “I am having your schedule for the next week cleared. Go back to Ponyville and spend time with Spike. See your friends.”
“But--”
“But nothing, Twilight.” Celestia’s tone was somehow both gentle and clad in iron. “I’m speaking as both your sovereign and your friend.”
Twilight ducked her head. “Yes, Princess. I can assure you it isn’t necessary, but I’ll do it. Under protest.”
“That’s my faithful student!" She caught the younger's eyes. "Twilight, never forget how proud you’ve made me. And take the rest of the cake with you. Share it with your friends, and please give them my very best regards.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She put the cake in her icebox, distractedly. It’s not so much that I mind the break, really, it’s just that it means I can’t keep trying to crack this very perplexing problem. I think I actually care more about solving it because it’s annoying than for saving my own life. The thought brought a quiet chuckle as she trotted up to her bedroom. Now I really know why she sent me to Ponyville. I’m as crazy as they are.
The chuckle ended as climbed into bed, realizing how Celestia must feel. It’s been nagging me for eighteen months, but it’s been tearing at her for 40,000 years. I can only image how desperate she must be. And her a powerful mage, as well, not used to finding problems she can’t fix.
Her eyes, just closed, shot open in realization. A powerful mage. In her prime. Damn it!
She bolted up, her mind churning furiously. My notes. My blood! Damn it, I knew I wasn’t that clumsy with a fork! That wasn’t another pat on the back at the end. Damn it to Tartarus! That was goodbye!
There was a flash of light, and she was gone.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Sand and salt, sprinkled on the stone floor, surrounded her in arcane patterns and phrases even she couldn’t recognize. A golden glow, her glow, wrapped the rune-etched knife floating before her. Twilight, forgive me for laying this burden upon you. And Lulu, forgive me for leaving you. You always were the strong one, even if you’d never admit it. I’m so glad you’ve found friends.
The teleport's pulse of magic in the room was only slightly more palpable than the desperation. “Princess, no!” Twilight focused all her will against the scene before her, but her spells just splashed around the bubble Celestia had already established.
“I’m sorry, my faithful student,” Celestia turned to her, and the sorrow in her voice has genuine. “You’re strong, but yet inexperienced. You can’t stop me, but you don’t have to see this happen. We both know this will be ugly. Leave me. Please. As one last favor, remember me as I was.” She heard hooves behind her, and realized too late that Twilight had made another stop on her way, and remembered one pony's ability to arrive undetected, in shadow.
Luna’s body collided with her sister’s and sent her sprawling to the floor. The dagger bounced across the room before a dark aura grabbed it and shattered it with astonishing ferocity. Standing atop her sister, the alicorn of night looked angrier than Nightmare Moon ever had. “‘Tia! How dare you! How dare you even think of doing such to me!”
Celestia didn’t try to move or ward off her sister in the slightest. “Twilight’s younger, Lulu, and she might...”
“Use not that name! ” A single tear from above splashed onto Celestia’s muzzle. “You have forfeited it! I have never been so hurt, and never been so disappointed in someone I loved! I would liefer you exile me to the moon for another thousand years, nay, ten thousand, than believe you would ever leave me alone in so cowardly a manner!”
Twilight crept up. “Luna...”
“No, Twilight, leave me be! ‘Tia, in all our thousands of years, even when I was beyond reason itself, I have always thought better of you!” Her hoof stomped the floor next to her sister’s head, sending chips flying. “Even if I could forgive what you were doing to me, what you would do to your student gives the lie to everything you have held dear!” Another stomp, and the stone beneath her hoof cracked.
Celestia defused her sister’s anger perhaps the only way possible, with a sob, and then another. Her head lifted to plead with the other. “I’m sorry, Lu... Luna. It was for Twilight. Don’t you see? She'd take risks with herself that she never would with us. And... We’re taking too much from her.” At Luna’s confused expression, Celestia laid her head back upon the ground as if suddenly weary. “We’ve always given them the years they would have had from birth. Always. But now we’ve taken all her years from her. She studies, she charts, she calculates, and she already feels our burden as if it were her own, but she doesn’t really live, Luna. She’s left behind her friends, her family, everything, why? For us? No. For me!”
Celestia’s voice was now a whisper of self-loathing. “This was always too heavy a burden to lay upon her. We’ve already taken her life, Luna. We took her life when we enslaved her with our own burden. All that we’ll be doing years from now is ending her misery.”
Luna, the ebbing fury having left her shaken, took a step back and turned away. “I would not be able to lose you and survive. I have missed you enough already, big sister.”
“I’m so sorry, Lulu. I never meant to hurt you.”
Luna stepped closer again, and nuzzled. “Never do this again, sister, and it will be as if forgotten.” But she looked at Twilight Sparkle, and her glance was clear. Can we trust her now? Can we protect her?
Twilight sighed and closed her eyes. “There’s another way,” she quietly said.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
They were sitting quietly now. Celestia was more composed, and Luna was pressed up against her side. Twilight couldn’t guess which one was supporting the other.
“You found it,” Celestia prodded.
“I found something,” Twilight said. At Celestia’s expectant silence, she continued. “It’ll work. I know it’ll work. You know Smith’s Countercausal Conundrum?”
“Of course. Not quite time travel, but seeking to change something in the past. It’s just a curiosity, though, Twilight. It never works.” She paused then; even she’d underestimated Twilight before. “Wait, are you saying you found a way to make it work?”
“What was it you said to me once, sister?” Luna asked. “Three rules of being a reigning princess. Always be careful of colts with cameras; if you must sing in the shower, don’t use the Royal Canterlot voice; and never, ever underestimate Twilight Sparkle.”
“I, uh, didn’t get it to work,” Twilight said with infinite chagrin. “Well, kind of. But mostly no.”
Celestia smiled with patience she truly didn’t feel. “Please, explain it in your own way.”
Twilight reluctantly did. “We can cast Smith’s spell at something several tens of thousands of years ago. The cast will fail, of course. It always does with that spell, and normally you get unchanneled spell potential uptime of the cast, sometimes with disastrous consequences. In this case, though, what we cast it at back then still exists now, and happens to channel power of such magnitude as a matter of course. Six such things, actually.”
“The Elements of Harmony.” It wasn’t a difficult deduction to make.
“The very same,” Twilight said, her voice full of misery rather than triumph. “The potential from the spell is deep, already capable of profound changes, and it should arrive at now with the ability to switch one cutie mark, one special talent, through a modification of Starswirl the Bearded’s spell.”
“Twilight, I’ve never before been so impressed by your talents. How did you come up with this?”
Twilight shrugged. “Luck, really. I was thinking of the years and years of trying that seemed to be ahead of me. Well, ‘failure’ and ‘years’ just clicked.”
“So I will exchange talents with one of the bearers?”
“Almost but not quite, Princess. That’s where the research into the old spell the unicorns used comes in. You have two cutie marks, really. Kind of. They never erased your old one, they just gave you a new one, right? Well, then, the old one is probably still there, unexpressed. We’ll just switch the one we want to somepony else, but their old gifts will be intact if they’ve already found them, or latent otherwise. Since your impressed talent did not cause the same inner conflict Starswirl's spell caused the bearers, there should be no issues with this, either.”
“Twilight, all I can say is ‘thank you,’ but those words are profoundly inadequate to express how grateful I am for what you’ve found for my sister and me.”
“Indeed,” Luna said. “Twilight, you have my deepest thanks as well. If there is anything I can do for you, anything within my power, you have but to ask.”
“More time,” Twilight pleaded. “I’m sure I can come up with something better. Something that wouldn’t...”
“Something that wouldn’t mean our eventual ends,” Celestia finished for her, gently. “Which is why you never mentioned this way before. But another day we give you is another day we take from you, and neither of us wants to do that." She looked at Luna, and received a firm nod. "Twilight, we’re ready.”
“But I’m not!” Her expression hardened. “And this is one royal command I’m prepared to refuse. I’m sorry, I really am, but all I want is more time. Is that really too much to ask?”
Luna cut off her sister’s response. “Twilight,” she began, her voice weary. “Your lifetime will see the ascension of another alicorn. We might be able to give you longer by giving her less. Would you have us do that?”
Twilight continued to look defiant, but could only answer one way. “No.”
“Even to have more time to find an answer? To save future alicorns? Wouldn’t your life be more important than hers?”
Her defiance broken, the younger alicorn could only answer, softly, “I could never ask for that.”
Luna smiled, sadly. “And would you demand more such decisions of us?” She waited with all the patience of the night itself for an answer.
“Celestia was right,” Twilight accused, eventually. “You don’t play fair.”
“I am sorry, Twilight. I truly am sorry.”
“I once told my friends that there were no such things as curses. I was wrong, wasn’t I?” It was a question that needed an answer from no one in that room. “I’ll do it. Give me a month to work out the spell's details and notify the bearers.” She glared at Luna, though she knew it wasn’t really her fault. For the moment, it just felt too good to be angry. “Did you lie to me about the alicorn?”
“I did not. In fact, when she does come along, I am going to suggest a name for her. ‘Hope’ would be good, don’t you think?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Sweetie, could you be a dear and get those other boxes down from the coach for me?” Rarity asked her sister.
“Sure, just give me a couple days,” the younger unicorn said as she eyed the stack. “Seriously, how are we supposed to carry all these up to our room?”
“Let me help,” a male voice answered, before he picked up several.
“Spike! It’s good to see you again! All settled back in?”
“Yep. Are you staying here at the castle, too?”
“Princess Celestia was kind enough to grant us some guest quarters.” At this note from Rarity, a shadow passed over Spike’s face. It was quickly covered, but Rarity asked, “Spikey, I know it’s none of my business, but isn’t this a long time to hold a grudge over the move back to Canterlot last year?”
Spike shook his head. “It’s not that, Rarity. And I can’t get into what it really is, sorry. I gave my word to Twilight. Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Of course.”
“Why all the bags for one night’s worth of clothes?”
Rarity smiled delightedly. “I can answer that in our room.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Once they were alone, Rarity answered, “I’m sure you know we’ll have a new princess soon, one Celestia will be sharing duties with, and it’ll be one of the bearers. That must have been why you were called back early a couple weeks ago, right?”
Spike set down the bags. “I can’t say. At least, I’m not sure that I can.”
Rarity threw a mock pout at him. “Keep your secrets,” she teased. “I must say, I’ve rarely been so excited! One of my friends, a princess!” She thought, and laughed. “Again!”
“Probably,” Spike responded. “Twilight said it could be a close relative of a bearer, in which case it would almost certainly be a sister.”
There was a quick sound which might have been a small sonic boom, and Sweetie Belle was suddenly beside Spike. “Really?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant and fooling no one.
He smiled apologetically at her. “Probably a bearer herself, though. Sorry, Sweetie Belle.”
This only dampened the young unicorn's excitement down to something seismologists couldn't quite pick up. “I can tell Apple Bloom, right?”
“Yeah, all the bearers and their immediate family know. Applejack was allowed to tell Caramel too, after their wedding. That was a beautiful gown, by the way, Rarity. Too bad Caramel couldn’t find the ring.”
“You heard Scootaloo got her cutie mark?” Sweetie Belle interrupted with what was, after all, important news.
“I did. Sorry I couldn’t make the cutecenierra. Anyway, Rarity, you were saying?”
“I’ve created a magnificent coronation ensemble for each of the bearers, if I do say so myself, and, let’s see, who else was that who might get it?”
Sweetie Belle harrumphed with all the drama her heritage afforded her.
Rarity ruffled her sister’s mane and started unpacking. “And the mothers and sisters. I hate to sound immodest, but I honestly think this is my finest work to date. No matter whom the Elements choose, I’m ready!” She turned to Spike, curious. “I suppose that given your feelings about our princess, and given that she’ll be able to spend more time away from Canterlot after sharing her duties, you’ll be at least a little happy to see this happen, too?”
To this, Spike realized he had no answer.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“You’re really sure about this?” Twilight asked her mentor as they stood before the great door to the palace courtyard.
“Twilight, I’ve been waiting for this virtually all my life, and in my case that’s been a very long time indeed. I’ve had to do terrible things, sometimes to friends, with no end in sight until you showed it to me. Is there any way to convince you how much I want this? How much I need this?"
“I don’t think so,” she said frankly, shaking her head. “I feel like I’m doing the same terrible thing, but to you. I still don’t know how you can forgive me.”
“The same way you forgave me,” Celestia answered. “That took me a long time to accept. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re being a little stubborn as well.”
Twilight actually smiled a little at that, reluctantly. “Maybe I had a very good teacher.”
“Touche’. And you’re not killing me, not by any reasonable definition.” Celestia slipped a hoof beneath Twilight’s chin, bringing her gaze up. “Quite the opposite -- you are giving me life, my old life, back. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve been able to look forward to a single morning without knowing that I’m taking that day from another pony. I’ll have several decades at least, probably more than a century, and now I can actually look forward to it, all thanks to you.”
“Shouldn’t...” Twilight knew it was a mistake as soon as she started saying it, and, as per the usual custom for anypony in such a situation, rushed it out before she had the time to be more sensible. “Shouldn’t it be Luna who goes first?”
Celestia’s expression flattened briefly, but settled on something more poignant. “I know you mean well, Twilight, but no. I have to do this first.” If only because I can pull rank with you. She smiled broadly as she opened the door. “Come, my faithful student. We should do this quickly, for both our sakes.”
They exited the room to be joined by Luna in the courtyard.
“Sister,” Luna greeted Celestia. “Twilight.” Twilight couldn’t remember seeing the lunar princess so nervous, no matter how much she tried to hide it.
“Luna,” Celestia said, smiling at her sister. “You are ready?”
“I am, sister. For the record, I will even wager twenty bits on Trixie Lulamoon.”
Celestia fought down a laugh. “You’ve got to work on your sense of humor if that is a joke, little sister.” She paused a little, then said, “It’s going to be Sweetie Bell.”
Twilight gave them both a dirty look, then realized, They’re not making light of this. They’re scared too, and there’s no reason to make this any harder for them . She spoke up shyly. “Sorry, it’s going to be Applejack. She’s really become the heart of the group. OK, maybe Apple Bloom.”
“We’ll see,” Celestia said, sharing a furtive grin with the other two.
They took their places, with the bearers aligned behind Twilight, and Celestia in the middle of the courtyard. Twilight gave a quick, questioning glance at them over her shoulder, and the bearers all silently indicated readiness in their own way. She saw Celestia ready, and Luna and the bearers’ relatives off to one side. She took a deep breath, then exhaled gustily. “Girls,” she said, barely audible, “It’s time to begin.”
Necklaces and tiara swiftly lit with arcane potency. Twilight focused upon them, and laid the channeling spell as her own eyes began to glow.
The radiance from the Elements swept from the bearers, through Twilight, then rushed to envelop Celestia, wrenching both a quick gasp from the solar princess and a glow from her own eyes. Wind rose, whipping manes about and driving the pennants above the courtyard into a frenzy as torches guttered out around them. The afternoon sky itself dimmed until the scene was lit solely by the cascading streams of brilliance from the Elements themselves, looking more like rivers of liquid light than their usual glow.
The channelling spell primed, Twilight had but to use Smith’s spell. She looked over at Celestia, who looked back at her student, pleading silently.
Twilight swallowed and closed her eyes as she fought back tears, shouting this, a spoken spell, over the wind,
“From now to then,
The rainbow hues connecting the eight started to bend and buckle as though driven by the wind, before swirling about them like a thing possessed and throwing crazed, multi-colored shadows over everyone. As the rebound from Smith’s spell fully hit, the mass of interwoven colors leapt upward like a fountain until it towered over the castle walls themselves. The wind died suddenly and the tower of light collapsed in a sound-swallowing hush, spilling itself over the entire courtyard as the bearers concentrated, each with their own silent plea.
Ah ain’t got time for all that there princessin’. Mah kin would be great at it, though! Much obliged.
I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you, although the Royal Guard barding would end up rather smashing. All of my real dreams are coming true now, the dreams of inspiration and design. I believe that Sweetie Belle would not mind a cutie mark, hint hint!
Not me, please. Um, if it’s all the same to you... I never liked crowds.
Thanks, but no. Trixie has finally gained some marvelous friends, and would rather have them than any crown. Also, Trixie’s hat has so much more style!
I can’t be held down to Canterlot, I’m touring soon! More than that, I’d go crazy having to deal with all the politics. Besides, awesome as I am in so many ways, I have to admit, you really do need someone with a more level head.
Omigoshomigosh! I wonder who it’ll be? Not me, I hope -- babysitting the Cakes is enough. Babysitting a whole country is too much, even if it pays more. Wait! I could declare an Ice Cream Day, couldn’t I? Wait! I could make every day Ice Cream Day! Wait! What about the cupcakes? Wait! I could declare every day Ice Cream and Cupcake Day! Woops, no, not since that movie. And that’d leave donuts out, and Donut Joe would be so sad. Wow, who knew that just running a country would be so complicated? I think I want someone else to do it, after all.
Twilight remembered that her eyes were closed, and, opening them, looked for Celestia. She found the princess lying down and breathing hard. Twilight rushed over, as did Luna, while the small crowd made a dismayed sound.
Celestia looked smaller, somehow. Still gasping, but more slowly now, she struggled to lift her head. “Did it... Did it work?” She stretched her forelegs in front of her. “It worked.” She looked at Luna, smiling exhaustedly. “It worked, Lulu. We’re free. After all this time, we’re actually free.”
Luna smiled back, in full view of her subjects and yet completely unashamed of her own tears. “It worked.”
Celestia got to her hooves, unsteadily. At Twilight’s look of concern, she chuckled. “I think my legs are a little shorter. I’ll need to get used to that.” She looked into her student’s eyes. “I’m fine, Twilight, really. In fact, I’m the best I’ve been in almost too long to remember. And I know I’ve said this before, but... I’m so proud of you. So very proud!”
“And grateful,” Luna added. “Twilight, I know this hurt you deeply. We can never thank you enough for shouldering this burden with us, and we owe you far more still for helping to end it.”
“Should I call you ‘Sweet Sunshine’ now?” Twilight asked, at a loss for anything else to say.
“I think of myself as ‘Celestia’ now, it’s been so long.” She looked at Luna again, and there was a hint of concern in that look. “Am I still that to you?”
“No,” Luna said. “Don’t be stupid.” Then she moved closer, to give her sister a gentle nuzzle. “You are ‘Tia, of course,” she said softly. “And you are my big sister, no matter what size you are.”
Celestia nuzzled back, swallowing the lump in her throat before she trusted herself to speak. “Luna, I know we never talked about it, even over all the years. I want you to know, I never would have. You understand? Never. I couldn’t have, no matter what the cost.”
“I know. Even in the very depths of my madness, I always knew that much.”
The two sisters shared another nuzzle, then Celestia hesitantly looked back at her flank. She smiled beatifically at the sunflower cutie mark she saw. “Gardening, after all,” she said very quietly, before her gaze turned upward. “I hope it really is never too late to learn.”
“You are really all right?” Luna asked, because she had to. “That spell seemed to take much energy from you.”
“I'm fine, little sister. In truth, I believe the worst part of the spell was Smith’s poetry.”
Twilight had, characteristically, latched onto another problem. “Wait. You’re up, you’re OK, and everypony else is still making uncertain-ish noises.”
Luna and Celestia looked at each other, and then back at the crowd where some ponies were helping another one up.
“Oh, hay no! ” The voice was definitely royal canterlot, and, to the utter astonishment of all, definitely male.
“Oh, come on!” came an immediate response in Apple Bloom’s distinctive drawl.
The crowd parted to let the three through, to where a very unhappy alicorn stood with a coat that now blazed red and orange like a sunset, and a very golden, very heavy, very awkward yoke.
Prince McIntosh (the First) glared about at the crowd. “So help me, the first one to call me ‘Princess’ gets sent to the moon.” A quick stomp of a rear hoof let everyone know the proposed method of conveyance wouldn’t be teleportation.
Rarity was holding her head in her hooves inconsolably. “Twelve dresses. Twelve! Magnificent! Dresses!Whatever did I do to make the world hate me soooo?”
Applejack patted Rarity comfortingly, then left Caramel to approach her brother. “Are you alright?”
The prince sighed and, unable to stay mad at the naked concern in her voice, rolled his newly royal eyes and smirked. “Ah’m fine, A.J. Go on, y’all, get it over with.”
Celestia stepped forward, silently, then bowed. Everypony else present, save Luna, followed suit, though Applejack couldn’t quite contain a grin. She whispered to her brother, “I reckon we forgot one o’ the Elements is laughter.” He answered with a snort.
Twilight, after the reflexive bow, continued to look dumbstruck. “It never even occurred to me. I mean, stallions. Um. Oops?”
Celestia shook her head. She whispered to Luna, who looked at Applejack, smiled, and nodded. “I think I know part of the reason, anyway,” Celestia explained. “It might have been Applejack after all, but I think the Elements didn’t want to endanger the foals with the transformation.”
It was Applejack’s turn to look thunderstruck. “Foals? You mean...”
“I’m sorry, Applejack, perhaps I should have been more circumspect? You are due to receive a blessed event.”
“Foals?” asked Applejack again. She looked back at Caramel, who was frozen in place, albeit with a grin so wide it must have hurt.
“Foals,” Celestia confirmed. “Plural. One learns to see the signs.”
Apple Bloom, off to one side, muttered darkly about life’s unfairness and looked at Sweetie Bell. “That’s it. You. Me. As soon as we get back. Race car driving.”
“Got it.”
Twilight smiled at Celestia, surprised at her own relief now that it was over. I guess the pressure is off, with the deed done. “Did I win?” Celestia shook her head and walked away. “Hey,” Twilight called after her, “I was close!”
“Close? You took two guesses and missed with both!” Celestia mocked over her shoulder, before facing Big McIntosh. “You’ll have duties, you know.”
“Duties Ah’ve got neither hide nor hair o’ how to do,” he said grumpily.
“We won’t throw you in unprepared, Big Mac. I will be announcing that you will be taking over my duties with the sun and a few of Luna’s duties, and Luna in turn will be taking the brunt of my sovereign duties.” She grinned at him. “I think my little ponies will allow me a working vacation after 40,000 years.”
The stallion relaxed somewhat. “Much obliged for y’all’s help.”
“Hey,” Applejack said with sudden dismay. “What about Sweet Apple Acres? If Ah’m with foal, and Big Mac’s off in Canterlot playin’ politics, we’re gonna have real trouble runnin’ the place.”
Celestia opened her mouth to say something. She then closed it, and looked at Luna expectantly.
Luna threw her sister a look of gratitude. “Ahem. By royal proclamation, Sweet Apple Acres is now a royal agricultural study site. You will be compensated for your work with salaries similar to your current income, and at a time of your choosing the property will revert back to the Apple family.”
Applejack nodded her acceptance and thanks. Big Mac nodded as well. “Much obliged again, ma’am.”
“As for the politics, Celestia has always been too indulgent with the gentry in any case,” she said with a small, dark grin. “And Prince McIntosh, you will henceforth call me Luna.” She then turned. “Celestia, Twilight, please follow me.” She looked over her shoulder. “You too, McIntosh. You will be able to talk to your family soon, I promise.”
As they left the crowd behind them, Celestia looked somberly at Big Mac and Twilight. “When Luna is freed as well, the full truth can come out. Now that we know we can transfer the Elements to other worthy bearers, as Trixie received hers, and with the aid of Twilight’s new spell, we can hand the solar and lunar duties down to successors through the generations. I’ll explain shortly, Big Mac. I will also ask you to keep this a secret for now.
“At which point we will step down and turn ourselves in for a trial.”
Big Mac stopped in shock. Twilight wasn’t the least bit surprised, but she wasn’t happy, either. “Princess, surely you can’t be serious.”
“Never more serious. There has to be one.”
Luna nodded firmly. “One thousand, one hundred, and seventy-two alicorns, Twilight. Innocent ponies sent to an early grave.” She sighed. “Together, we are the most accomplished serial killers in recorded history. No matter the cause, that cannot be simply swept away.”
Twilight objected, “That’s not fair! You had no choice! We’d all be dead, everyone, if you’d stopped.” She took pity on Big Mac, who was staring at them and, frankly, looked like he might bolt at any time. “For the last 40,000 years, they've shortened alicorns’ life-spans to sustain themselves, but without them the sun would have grown too cold to support life on our world.”
The big alicorn took it in all at once, and nodded shakily. Then again, Twilight thought, for him a shaky nod is practically a burst of wild hysteria for somepony else. Maybe the Elements knew what they were doing.
“Ponies would understand!“
“Ah think they would, Twilight, but it’d take time. A trial’d give ‘em that time.”
“You’ll be chief diarch at the time, you know.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be fair to just decide that mahself. Wouldn’t look good, neither. Ah can suggest a sentence, though.” At Twilight’s expectant look he said, "40,000 years community service.”
“Retroactive,” they finished together.
“In the meantime,” he said with a small, wry smile, “Celestia, please don’t leave the planet.” He shook his big head as realization set in. “Dagnabit.”
“What is it?” Twilight asked worriedly.
“Ah’m already doin’ politics.”
“You will have to do more, soon,” Celestia said. “My new status will be an unprecedented shock to ponies everywhere. They will need reassurance from you that the sun is in good hooves.”
“Eeyup. Anything else Ah need to know?” Big Mac asked warily.
“Of course,” Celestia answered. “More than anypony ever can know.” She fought down a smile upon seeing Big Mac’s almost comically miserable expression. “Most importantly, though, remember that you have friends you can rely on.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
There was a knock at the door of Celestia’s new room. Big Mac had wanted her to keep her old quarters, but it was an uncomfortable reminder to her. Luna had claimed Celestia’s old quarters, instead. Luna understood. Luna always understood.
“Come in, please.” Of anypony who could’ve walked through the door, this one surprised her. “Spike?”
He couldn’t quite meet her eye. “I’m not intruding, I hope?”
“Spike, I take it you’re ready to forgive me?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said, surprising her again. “Well, I swore I wouldn’t, you know. And the dragon code says I can never go back on a solemn oath.”
Even one taken as a child? she wondered. She waited for him to proceed.
“Maybe, though...” He stopped, and started again, eyes fixed on his feet. “Maybe you could forgive me?” At the silence that followed, he nervously clarified, “It’s not against the princess code, is it?”
The head laid upon his shoulder suggested it wasn’t. “Spike, you must believe me when I say that there is nothing to forgive. You were looking after your sister. I can’t blame a child for choosing his family first, even if the whole world suffers for it.”
He suddenly threw his arms about her neck. “I swore I wouldn’t cry, either,” he told her, his voice thick with the effort of an oath very nearly fulfilled. “Knights don’t cry, do they?”
“Knights?”
“Twilight said Luna owed her a favor.”
Celestia very carefully did not chuckle. She could and did beam with pride, however. “She chose well. Knights don’t cry, not as a rule, no. Your brother has mentioned ‘liquid pride,’ however. I think that could be mistaken for tears by those less versed in knighthood.”
“I think this is liquid everything,” he choked out.
“I think that fits, Spike,” she murmured. “I think that fits just fine.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Four years later...
The tower of light collapsed, washing over the bearers and the crowd. Celestia, Big Mac, and Twilight rushed over to Luna, who was already starting to stand.
“Finally,” she said, looking far more at peace than Twilight had ever seen her.
Twilight looked back at the crowd, and saw them clustering where the bearers had stood. “It’s A.J. this time. I hate to say I told you so.”
“No you don’t,” said Big Mac knowingly from his higher vantage point. “‘Sides, it’s Trixie.”
Somewhere in the crowd, a shout of triumph erupted in Rarity's voice. "I have the perfect gown!"
“I knew it.” Luna smiled at Celestia and Twilight. “‘Lulamoon.’ I would have thought it obvious.” Her smile shifted into a grin. “I believe payment is due.”
“That bet was for last time,” Celestia objected.
“I did not say so when the wager was made!”
Twilight walked over to a dismayed Trixie. “Are you alright?”
“I am, I think.” She looked around her. “Could you all give us a little room, please?” The crowd suddenly found other things, such as the stonework, to be of uncommon interest.
“What’s wrong? I mean, you really are ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’ now. I thought you’d be ecstatic, Trix. This is your dream come true!”
“My dreams have changed. Twilight, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to have to leave Ponyville.” She sighed miserably. “Once again, I don’t seem to have your strength.”
“So, don’t leave Ponyville.” At Trixie’s look askance, Twilight explained, “You’re the junior diarch, now. Luna was always able to roam further afield than Celestia, and, if there’s an emergency, Ponyville’s not that far from Canterlot as the alicorn flies.” Twilight smiled. “I’ve had a few years since I moved back to Ponyville to get over my little jealousy problem, and, well, we can handle other details as they come up.”
Trixie smiled back, relieved enough to joke. “Shared custody? I can get Fluttershy every other Tuesday.”
Twilight laughed and gave her friend a hug. "Trixie, may I ask you a question?”
“Ask me anything.”
“Have you noticed something, well, different about your speech?”
“Such as...?”
“Never mind, Trixie. It’s not important.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“They accepted Big Mac’s suggestion,” Twilight told them after she’d entered the rather well-appointed chamber where the prisoners were held.
“Which you backed,” Celestia noted without surprise.
Twilight shrugged. “As did Trixie and Cadance. I think everypony is still in shock, but, really, what could they do? If you hadn’t done what you did, nopony would be around to do the judging, and they all knew it.
“Frankly, I think in the end everypony decided there just really wasn’t a right answer, and accepted the least complicated one instead.”
“So we are free to go, then?”Luna asked formally.
“According to Big Mac when he approved the sentence, yes. Released without prejudice. You can even run for office, if you want.”
“Big Mac said all that?” Luna wondered.
“Well, what he actually said was ‘eeyup,’ but it was the way he said it.”
“So they decided to give elections a try? We tried them centuries ago. You can guess how they went,” Celestia said.
“Elections for domestic ministers, for now. And I take it two ponies who always had the answers kept ending up in office?”
“More or less.”
“I believe I am more comfortable in the role of adviser now,” Luna said thoughtfully.
“And I believe I am more comfortable in the role of tending my garden,” Celestia said with a fair degree of mirth. “But if the ministers decide to appoint us to positions, I will serve, as I’m sure my sister will. In any case, I will always be there for my little ponies.”
Twilight had just left her Twinkle Balloon with Spike and was about to run into Pinkie Pie, who would, of course, get very excited and very confusing. This was the best part for Twilight, the old friends. She usually got to see five before she woke up. Spike -- real Spike -- was jealous.
This time, though, she ran into someone unexpected. “Trixie? But I didn’t meet you until a lot later. And you weren’t an alicorn then.” She went from suspicious to a little accusing. “I’ll have you know, my dreams are usually better organized than this.”
“I’m real,” Trixie told her quickly. “Dream duty, remember? Twilight, you need to get back to Canterlot. You need to get there as soon as you can.”
Twilight realized what was happening, and fought hard not to wake up just yet. “Trixie, I can’t move as fast as I used to a century ago, you know that.”
“Right. Transportation should be there soon, Twilight. OK, it’s there now. Wake up, Twilight.”
“Trixie, wait! How is--”
“Wake up, Twilight! Wake up, now!”
She woke, to see a draconequus looming over her expectantly. Without a word, he took hold of her hoof, and they were suddenly in a well-lit room filled with doctors, nurses, and downcast expressions.
“Twilight,” Discord said somberly as he let her go. “For whatever it’s worth, give her my regards. Tell her, well, tell her that it won’t be the same without her.” And with that he was gone, leaving her blinking in the light.
A door opened, and Luna ushered her into the private room. Everypony was in a hurry. It couldn’t be good.
It wasn’t. Celestia had never looked so small as she did in that bed. When she smiled up at Twilight, though, her eyes were as alive as ever. “My faithful former student. Twilight, thank you for coming.”
“Princess, no, please! Just a little longer? This is all my fault.”
Celestia shook her head, slowly. “This was not your fault, Twilight. And even if it were... If I cannot convince you that you are blameless in this... I forgive you.”
Twilight had no answer to this but a nod, and a hoof pressed to Celestia’s shoulder. Celestia laid her hoof upon Twilight’s, and continued. “I heard that a wise mare once said, the most important thing isn't how much time we have together, but making our time together count. You’ve always made every second count.”
“I think that mare was an idiot,” the younger alicorn objected sourly. Her voice cracked at the last, though, and she shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I wanted to be strong for you. Not like this.”
Celestia laughed, unevenly. “Twilight, you have been strong, incredibly so. It’s one of the many-” She was cut off by a fit of coughing. When she could talk again, her voice was noticeably weaker. “You’ve always been strong for me. Thank you. I’m sorry I forbade them from telling you how bad it was. Now, for both our sakes, you need to do one more thing for me.”
“Anything.”
“Let me go.”
“Anything but that.”
Celestia tried to laugh again, but had to settle for a wan smile. “I don’t mean to stop caring. Think. What will you want for Spike to feel... when your time... comes? That’s... what I... want for you. Don’t take this as... a failure. All stories end. It’s...” She paused to catch her breath, and found she couldn’t. “Luna will explain.” She looked at her sister, then to Twilight. “Sorry... excuse...?”
“Of course,” Twilight said. “I’ll be just outside. Wait. Princess, any regrets?”
“Yes,” Celestia smiled, and breathily said, with a comical air of immense disappointment, “Fillydelph... Garden show... Only second place this year.”
Twilight smiled back, gently. “Discord sends...”
“I know.”
Twilight nodded, and fled before she completely broke down.
After another half hour was spent in a frustrating, frantic maelstrom of thought and theorizing, hypothesis and hopelessness. I should be able to fix this. That’s what they all depend on me for, right? I solve problems. I just need to solve one more. All the while, she knew this was precisely why her princess had kept her in the dark.
All this, and her world too, came crashing down upon her when Twilight saw Luna walk slowly out of the room, and Twilight knew. Luna’s eyes were unreddened, her muzzle unstained by tears. Indeed, she wore no expression at all, and didn’t seem to see Twilight even when looking right at her.
Twilight approached, hesitantly laying a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Twilight,” Luna began. “My sister wanted me to explain. Remember what she said to me on the day you freed her?”
The day I doomed her, you mean, Twilight thought, but there was no trace of blame in Luna’s voice. Then again, there was no emotion at all. “She said... She said she ‘never would have.’ She meant she would never have taken life from you, didn’t she?”
Luna nodded, still without expression. “I was not simply there to take over if she failed. If we faced a dearth of alicorns instead, the plan was for my life to be used to sustain her. I think she wanted you to know what kind of fate you freed us from.”
“I think, at last, maybe I do.” She blinked away tears. “What will you do now?”
Luna shook her head. “I am sorry I cannot stay and grieve with you, after you have done so much for me. Even when mad, I knew she was out there. She was always there, for so very long, that I cannot imagine her not being there. I simply cannot face it and stay whole.” She frowned, her first sign of emotion since... “I will be returning someplace I now wish I had never left.”
Realization set in, and alarm immediately after. “But you can’t live there now! Luna, you have friends here. Let us help!”
“Believe me when I say I know you would try. I only have weeks, myself, Twilight, and those are weeks I cannot withstand without her. If realization truly set in, I might not be safe for those around me. Already I fear that I can feel madness at the edges of my mind once again.
“I’m sorry, Twilight. Thank you, again.”
And with that, and a flash, she was gone.
There was a balcony nearby; Twilight knew that from memory. She stepped outside to be alone, feeling truly alone in any case, and to look at the Mare in the Moon.
Thus it was she saw that Trixie somehow knew, too. Overhead, one by one and without any fuss, the stars were going out.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Thanks for the lift, little brother,” she told the dragon as she and a younger alicorn slipped off his back at the cemetery gates.
“Any time, big sister,” he replied down to her, somberly. “I’ll wait here, if that’s OK.”
“She’d understand, Spike,” Twilight answered easily. He was just too big now to fit without knocking down tombstones.
Gingerly, mindful of her own age, she walked through the cemetery, giving a sad smile here, running a hoof over a tombstone there, until she reached the one she was there for that day. She left the younger mare a few steps back as she knelt at her mentor’s flower-covered grave, head bowed a few moments in silence. She then took a diamond case from her pack and laid it gently amid the flowers. Standing, she went back to her student.
“That was your teacher?” Hope asked.
“Yes, my faithful student. Though she taught everyone, really.”
Hope considered. “What was she like?”
Twilight smiled. “She was the best.”
“But her sister was Nightmare Moon, wasn’t she?”
Twilight paused, thoughtfully. “Personally, I like to think that the Mare in the Moon watches over us at night. I can explain more in a few years, if you want me to.”
Hope looked a little petulant, but just a little. “I’d really like to know now, Princess.”
Her mentor smiled down at her. “I can see that. It’s a difficult lesson, but maybe you’re ready after all. Have I ever mentioned how proud I am of you?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Trixie was going to officiate over the ceremonies concluding the official period of mourning. Big Mac knew she was always better with crowds than he. For his own sake, he was going to honor his princess in his own away, and for this he had a cart harnessed behind him and stacked high.
“Your Highness!” Big Mac recognized the voice of the head gardener. “Please, let me help!”
Prince McIntosh (the First) shifted the royal stalk of wheat to the other side of his mouth. “Ah reckon ah know how to plant.”
“I know,” the gardener said, his expression pleading. “But please, I really do want to help with this.”
Big Mac recognized another grieving soul. ‘My little ponies always come first,’ she said, time and time again. “Sure,” he said. “Come along. Ah figure the central front plot fer these?”
“Of course,” the gardener said. “Sunflowers would look lovely there.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She’d expected the bright light. Over her long life, she’d heard more than a few near-death experiences. She had never decided whether it was the last sensation of a dying brain or something more real, but she’d taken comfort in the idea that, either way, dying didn’t sound as scary as it might be.
She was also aware of another sensation. It felt like those few times she’d been sick, or, more precisely, the times right after, when the limbs feel a little rubbery and the head a little lighter. Was it truly release, or mere sensations from dying nerves? She didn’t know, and yet was utterly calm in her consideration.
She felt movement, and she felt forgiveness, but still she didn’t know. She’d expected forgiveness from millennia of it, and her own imagination might be desperately providing it now.
Then she felt welcome, which surprised her, and that was how she knew.
My friends!
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
In a cemetery just outside Canterlot, on a grave on a hill, there lies a diamond case amidst the flowers. In that case there lies a scroll.
Dear Princess Celestia,
Spike’s dating. I thought you’d want to know. I think it was after he lost Rarity. Not that he ever really had her, but he was there to remind her that, of all the broken hearts she was leaving behind, his was the biggest. Anyway, one of the ambassadors from the dragon realms has a daughter, Claudia, and her father was thoughtful enough to immerse her in Equestrian culture. They’re like two peas in a pod now. It’s adorable, and I have to be careful indeed never to tell him that.
Hope is coming along nicely. Sometimes I think all her questions will drive even me to distraction, but then I remember how patient you were with me. It really is worth it, isn’t it?
I was afraid I’d be angry with you, but I’m not. It was Big Mac who did the math, but we both think you slipped a few years back to me, somehow. I shouldn’t be able to be certain, especially as I still don’t even know how you did it, but I am certain nonetheless. You should have asked me first, but, like I said, I’m not angry. So today I learned that sometimes your friends feel they have to do what they think is best for you and, even if you don’t agree, you should still know they did it because they’re your friends.
It appears that I’m still learning from you, and so I can sign this, in all honesty,
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
Author's Note
I've heard authors say from time to time that a character helped write their story. This is the first time that's happened to me. A tale that started as Twilight's became more a distillation of Celestia's character, and the character demanded closure.
Spike heard the knock at their door and lay down his latest comic immediately. “I’ll get it!” The castle’s servants took care of all the cleaning, and the work Twilight was doing now was, sadly, mostly beyond the reach of a baby dragon. He’d always enjoyed helping Twilight, but that had never stopped him from wondering what he’d be doing if he had more free time of his own. Now he knew. He’d be re-reading his latest comic book for the seventh time and being sorely tempted to start drawing mustaches on the hero. It was only yesterday, when he’d caught himself idly looking forward to the possibility of another Changeling invasion, that he’d realized how incredibly bored he was. Just having a door to answer was a delight in itself at this point.
When he opened the door, though, all his cheer vanished instantly.
“Spike,” Celestia asked, “Would you please let Twilight know...” But Spike had wordlessly turned on his heel and walked away toward the study. Celestia fell silent. Apparently Spike hadn’t forgiven her yet, if he ever would. Not that I have any grounds whatsoever to blame him .
Spike re-entered the living room and, without so much as a glance at her, silently ascended the stairs to his room. Twilight stepped out of the study and watched him sadly as he closed the door. She sighed softly, then moved over to Celestia. She knew the solar alicorn well enough to see how much pain lay behind the neutral expression, and smiled in apology. “I’m sorry about that, Princess. He’s just...”
Celestia smiled sadly in return. “‘Just a baby dragon?’ I know, Twilight. It’s fine; he has a right to his opinion, and no little justification for it.”
That was an argument Twilight didn’t want to have again, so she took a step back and gestured to the couch. “Please, your highness. I take it you read my report?”
“I have, and I agree with your conclusion that catalyzing further fusion in the sun, even with all your refinements, is just too risky to do over centuries.”
“I’m sorry, Princess, I-”
“-Made more progress in the past six months than we have seen in the past forty millennia?” Celestia’s smile was genuine now. “Apology accepted.”
Twilight smiled back, but awkwardly. “Princess, you don’t understand. That was the best approach I’ve found so far. I’ve seen reports from your agents in Minos, the gryphon kingdom, and the dragon realm. Even Steven Magnet in Swisherland has come up empty on any mysterious artifacts that sound like anything man-made to me, and I hear he’s very influential there.
“I also haven’t found any way to change how the Elements bond...” At Celestia’s questioning brow, Twilight explained, “If we could bond you and one other alicorn to the Elements and then temporarily unlink everypony else, we could have used Starswirl the Bearded’s spell to...”
“...To switch my ‘special gift’ with that of a younger pony before the end of my natural lifespan, and so on before theirs in turn. Very clever!” Celestia looked down, though, as she considered “Sadly, the Elements have not been mine to command since the day of my sister’s exile, and I have tried since you brought them back. Which one would I use? Loyalty? Kindness? So many ghosts might disagree with those, if they had the voices. Generosity? The years that I’ve taken from others would say otherwise. Honesty? I lie every day when I am seen ‘raising the sun.’ As to Pinkie Pie’s Element...” Celestia’s lips quirked in an ugly way as she eyed the door to Spike’s room. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Or they no longer work for you because you simply no longer feel worthy of them. After all, they did perform for you up until your sister’s... Well. And I can’t help but notice that you left one Element out of that list?” Twilight observed gently.
“Has Trixie had any luck with that one?”
“Last time we tried, she said she saw a little glow..” At Celestia’s optimistic look, Twilight apologetically explained, “To tell the truth, I think it just caught the light in a weird way. She has it now, for further experiments with using it. I’m sending Spike there tomorrow for a few books Zecora found for me. He can ask Trixie if she’s had any better luck.”
“I certainly hope they get along a little better now.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Spike felt odd as he approached the library, ready to ask for after-hours admittance at the door of what used to be his own home. Trixie was staying there still until she found a place of her own. He’d raised one hand to knock when Trixie rushed out and collided with him, sending both to the ground.
“Hello, Trixie,” Spike said from where he lay. “Leaving town in a hurry for some reason?” He eyed the diadem in her telekinetic grasp, the Element of magic. “And does that really belong to you?”
Trixie brushed herself off and glared at the little dragon. “Yes, it does. And to answer your earlier question, Trixie is not being run out of town again.” She winced briefly as the “again” slipped out. “Technically, Trixie has never been run out of town.”
“‘Technically’?” Spiked asked with mock innocence and genuine venom.
Trixie stood there, eyes closed, and counted to five. Then ten. “Please get on Trixie’s back.”
“Say again?” Spike asked, now confused and more than a little wary.
“An Ursa Major, and this time I really do mean Major, has come dangerously near the Ponyville end of the Everfree forest. Rainbow Dash let Trixie know before you arrived, and is alerting the other bearers and the Mayor now.”
Spike reluctantly hopped onto Trixie’s back, and Trixie took off at a dead gallop. “Is it attacking?”
Trixie shook her head. “It’s just approaching for now. We are simply being prepared. But, as I’m sure you were looking forward to pointing out, Trixie has not -- quite -- ever truly banished an Ursa Major.” Spike’s mouth opened, but Trixie beat him to it, “Yes, or even an Ursa Minor, so it seemed prudent to bring the Elements. More prudently, in case we cannot use the Elements without Twilight, we now have you to send her a message.” The last, Spike had to privately admit, was said without any of the rancor toward Twilight he’d expected from her, and he fell silent.
They felt the footsteps of the immense beast even before they reached the clearing with the other bearers. The impacts were several seconds apart, which Spike reluctantly realized gave some hint as to the sheer enormity of the beast. He jumped off Trixie’s back as soon as he could, after which she reflexively straightened out her cape before giving Fluttershy a look.
Fluttershy frowned in answer to the unspoken question, “I don’t know what it wants, but those footsteps sound angry.”
“How do footsteps sound angry?” Rarity wondered aloud.
Fluttershy just shrugged at her, but Pinkie spoke up, worried. “By sounding like those!”
Trixie looked at Rainbow Dash next, “Do we know where it is?”
They heard trees splintering in the distance, and looked toward the far edge of the large clearing around them to see that the great beast had just crushed several underfoot. The astral ursinoid was, fortunately, not headed directly toward them, but it’s general direction wasn’t as auspicious for Ponyville.
“About that close,” Rainbow observed nervously.
“Fluttershy? Any chance you could talk to it?” Trixie asked.
Fluttershy just stared back, frozen.
The magician shook her head. “It appears that Trixie has broken Fluttershy. Dash? Could you try leading that thing away?”
“On it!”
The cyan pegasus zipped away, leaving her trademark spectral trail behind her. Covering the considerable distance in a flash, she addressed the beast from near one ear, “Hey, why don’t you pick on a metropolis your own size?” She didn’t expect an answer, of course, but the complete lack of any reaction at all to the challenge was a little disheartening. Her expression determined, she gathered speed. She was simply the fastest flier she knew of, and a pegasus’s natural magic would let her move even more air than speed would ordinarily allow.
She’d bowled over whole crowds of pegasi, inadvertently. She broke the sound barrier itself, routinely and with ease. She could clear a sky in Ten. Seconds. Flat. I’ll handle this, no problem! We’ll all be back home by dinner!
In the distance the other six stared. “Is that a twister she’s makin’?” Applejack asked.
“You mean the little grey swirly bit above the Ursa’s left ear?” Rarity asked
“Eeeyup,” the cowpony agreed sadly.
They saw the tornado dissipate before Rainbow Dash flew back to them, now looking both exhausted and more than a little sheepish. “OK, I’m going to have to grant that thing round one.” At the others’ looks she amended, “Provisionally.”
“Rainbow...” Pinkie said.
“Give me a break, Pinkie. You don’t have to give me the whole ‘I know you tried your best, we’re all proud of you’ speech. This was just round one, like I said.”
“Rainbow...” Trixie spoke up.
“There are other things I can try, you know! I just have to catch my breath and... And that’s not what you all are trying to tell me, is it?” Indeed, her friends had all been looking behind her with growing apprehension.
“It’s following me back here, isn’t it?”
“‘Fraid so.”Applejack answered.
“Aw, horseapples. I’m sorry, girls. Is it at least going to miss Ponyville, now?”
“‘Fraid not.”
“We’re not finished yet, and neither is Ponyville,” Trixie interjected, removing her hat and slipping on the diadem. The others arrayed themselves behind her, their necklaces quickly gathering their characteristic auras. Trixie stared at the Ursa Major, concentrating... Come on, you stubborn little Element. This isn’t for me, it’s for Ponyville. I’m ninety-nine percent sure this time! Work just this once!
Nothing happened. Not the barest glimmer of a glimmer shown about the gem.
Trixie removed the Element, and looked at it in her hooves. “Rainbow,” Trixie said quietly, as she dejectedly gave the diadem to Spike. “Go warn Ponyville, please.” She then took a scroll and quill from beneath her hat, and gave them to Spike as well. “Everypony else would do best to scatter, and then help out the town after that thing passes. Trixie thinks she can distract it with her little fireworks to give you six some more time. Fluttershy, would you carry Spike?”
“Ah ain’t rabbitin’ off while you get stomped flatter’n a pancake,” Applejack asserted, her considerable stubborn running in full overdrive.
“We are simply not leaving,” Rarity announced dramatically, Pinkie nodding firmly in agreement.
“And I’ve got that whole ‘loyalty’ thing to deal with,” Rainbow Dash added. “OK, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean.” Even Fluttershy looked more resolute than scared, which was saying something given how scared she looked. Spike, on the other hoof, had gained an apparent fascination with his own toes.
Trixie looked about her and opened her mouth, but all that came out was a small choking sound. She blinked rapidly, swallowed and tried again, her voice a little husky. “Trixie said ‘distract,’ not ‘sacrifice herself like the some uncommonly glamorous speedbump,’” she clarified. “That thing takes six and a half seconds to put its foot down, and Trixie intends to be well out from under-foot whenever it does.
“But... that’s nevertheless very much appreciated,” she added quietly. “Thank you all.”
“Oh,” Rainbow Dash responded, grinning a little in embarrassment. “Well, you know what? Still, nothing doing! The town already knows to be on the lookout, and that thing’s not exactly going to sneak up on anypony.”
“Besides,” Pinkie spoke up, “I think we have a few minutes before it gets here. Maybe we can think of something else to avoid being squished flat!”
“Positive thinking at it’s best, Pinkie. But Fluttershy? You really do have to go, to carry Spike,” Trixie pleaded.
“She would,” the dragon announced miserably. “But Spike isn’t going either.” Trixie looked at him in astonishment, along with everypony else.
“Trixie, I’m sorry,” he explained, as he wiped away some tears. “I blamed you for replacing Twilight. I was scared that I was losing her, and I think after that I blamed you for a lot of other things I can’t really get into. None of that was your fault, but I cared more about how mad I was, and how scared I was, than I cared about being fair.
“I know you were a real pain when you were here before -- both times -- but you’ve been nothing but brave and selfless since you came back, and the whole time I’ve been nothing but terrible to you.” Spike looked at the diadem in his hands. “You’ve grown, and I think now it’s time for me to grow a little, too. I hope you can forgive me. And this...” He looked into the diadem’s gem, swallowed, then held the Element up to her. “I believe this is yours now.”
“Spike,” Trixie said softly, “Trixie knew things were hard for you lately. And, well...” She paused, and said wryly. “Trixie is used to a little scorn now and then.” She then took the crown into her hooves, but only to push it back into Spike’s hands. “Trixie is happy to accept your apology, but she has to face the facts. Trixie is not meant to bear the Element of magic.”
“One more try? Please?”
Rarity coughed lightly. “I hate to break this up this truly beautiful moment, everypony, but, you know... Tremendous, angry, incredibly frightening monster and all?” She turned toward the Ursa when she noticed her necklace glowing again. “Oh, my...”
A brilliant burst of light later, and all seven found themselves laying on the ground.
“Revered artifacts from the dawn o’ time or not, Ah do wish they’d give us some time to brace ourselves before givin’ that kind of a kick,” Applejack said, shaking her head and reaching for her hat. She then broke into a broad grin. “But, more important, welcome to the club, Trix.”
Trixie smiled widely with realization. “Everybody saw that, right? The Ursa Major, banished?” She clapped her forehooves together excitedly. “It really happened this time! Trixie has witnesses and everything!”
“Nope,” Rainbow Dash said, now hovering several meters above them. “It’s not gone, but it is headed back the way it came.”
“‘Vanquished,’ then. ‘Vanquished’ is good enough. And of course Trixie had a little help.” She looked down to the Element in her hooves, and then to Spike. “From everypony.”
Spike smiled back. “I think maybe it was my connection to Twilight that helped. But it’s all yours now,” he added. “I had this weird fear that if I held onto it much longer I would have ended up ‘Princess Spike’ or something.” He then winced at the affront to his dignity as Applejack chuckled and rubbed his head.
“No hard feelings, then?” Trixie asked.
“Not as long as you don’t try to rearrange the books in the town library again. You may be the Element of magic now, but I’m afraid being a proper librarian is something else entirely,” he said seriously.
“I think we’re missing the point here,” Pinkie objected. “A giant monster suddenly decides to march out of the Everfree Forest? Even for Ponyville, that’s strange.”
“Trixie assumed from recent experience here that things like this happen every week, and, for that matter, thought that was why the bearers all came from Ponyville in the first place.”
“Not quite,” Applejack said. “Pinkie’s makin’ sense this time. Like she said, this was a mite out of the ord’nary even for here.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
He was in the kitchen when he heard the front door close softly. “Fluttershy, is that you, perchance?”
“Yes, it’s me. Sorry, I’m home a little earlier than I expected.”
“And how was your day?”
“Oh, it was alright, I guess. I freed a bunny that was caught in some vines, put a fledgeling back into her nest, and helped vanquish a maddened Ursa Major.”
“Well, it’s good to stay busy. ‘Idle hooves,’ you know. Which brings me to a minor confession on my part...”
Fluttershy walked into the kitchen, frowning. “What did you do?”
“Well, you know how I’m avoiding being, well, outright evil? And it hasn’t been easy, I can tell you. Sometimes when eating or reading a book I just don’t know what to do with my hands.”
She was tapping a hoof now. “Yes?”
“But harmless mischief is all right, once in a while, don’t you think? I mean, just a little? As long as no one gets hurt?”
“Discord. What. Did. You. Do?”
He turned around with a tray and a broad smile. “I baked cookies! Oatmeal and raisin, your favorite.” He looked briefly apologetic. “Sorry about your diet.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Twilight was in her old guest room, now Trixie’s room, the Element of magic in front of her. She touched the gem gently, looking for the faintest sign of light within.
“Quite a party, isn’t it?” an unexpected voice quietly asked.
“Oh! Princess, hello. Yes, it’s, uh, quite a party. Pinkie really outdid herself.” Twilight paused before continuing, a little too brightly. “Trixie deserves it, though, doesn’t she? I mean, I admit I had my doubts, but she’s certainly earned it!”
Celestia nodded. “Yes, of course. You left before it was over, though.”
“Well, it’s Trixie’s party, after all. I would just have been in the way. She’s the bearer of the Element of magic now.” Twilight gently lay the Element within its case. “And everybody was having a lot of fun. Pinkie and A.J. seem especially fond of her. It’s great to see. Really.”
It hadn’t taken Celestia all her forty thousand years to learn when to say nothing, and sometimes it was when it was the other pony who needed to say what needed to be said.
“They’re all having fun, there, and I know Trixie tried to make me feel a part of it.” Her voice caught, just a little. “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” A single tear splashed onto the Element before she closed the case. “She had to try to make me feel a part of it. Princess, I feel awful, and I feel even worse that I feel awful.”
“A little bit of jealousy under the circumstances doesn’t make you a bad pony, Twilight,” Celestia said in her most comforting voice.
Twilight shook her head, holding back more tears. “It’s not a little bit. My friends are visiting me less and less often. I mean, I knew they would, eventually. What do I have in common with them, now? I’m a princess, right? I have to look at the bigger picture now, right? Trixie has my friends, she has my Element...” She sighed. “Celestia, I see Trixie and Spike getting along, and I have to try to not be angry at him for it. After all those lectures to him that he should get along better with her, now I’m actually mad that he’s doing it.
“But that’s not what being a princess is about, right? Running around with her friends and saving Ponyville yet again -- that’s not the life for Princess Twilight Sparkle the First! No, my life is my duty, now. My life is all about finding out how to kill my own beloved teacher, and then probably going down as history’s greatest monster for giving her... giving her the one thing nopony else can! My... life...” She stopped, not quite sobbing, but neither able to continue. Twilight recoiled at first from Celestia’s unexpected nuzzle, then collapsed against the solar alicorn. When she was able to continue, Celestia couldn’t remember her voice so being quiet. “I’d give anything just to be happy for her, I really would.”
“‘Sweet Sunshine,’” Celestia said softly.
“Huh?”
Celestia smiled to herself. The best way to get through to Twilight had always been to give her something to figure out. “That was my name as a foal. You didn’t think we were born ‘Celestia’ and ‘Luna,’ did you? Tradition even back then was to give a name to cover the most likely talents. I’ve always thought my special gift would have been gardening, like my mother’s, but available evidence does suggest my father’s gift for confections may have won out.” This last brought a quick giggle from Twilight, barely audible, but there.
Celestia continued, “After our transformation, we were made princesses under the Equestrian king and queen of the time for our protection. They passed on, their lines dwindled, and as we grew in experience the responsibilities of rule gradually fell upon us. And in truth, despite my complaints about politics, we do both love taking care of our little ponies.
“It seems that over the millennia, though, I’d forgotten how painful it was at first to leave my old life behind. Sweet Sunshine’s life. And now I’ve asked you to leave behind the happy life that I first thrust you into, years ago.” Celestia shook her head in self-recrimination. “On top of the overwork I knew you’d do, on top of shaking your perceptions of everything you thought you knew, and on top of laying such a heavy emotional burden upon you, I did this to you. Twilight, I’m so sorry.”
Twilight sniffled, but nuzzled back and gathered her composure. “It’s not your fault, Princess.”
“It is, Twilight. It was all for the very best of reasons, but it is my responsibility.” She looked reassuringly at Twilight and said, “Maybe I can make amends. My sister has informed me of one likely artifact she sensed some time ago, one less exposed to the elements. My desire to be sensitive to the circumstances of the time she discovered it led me to hold this option in reserve. I think the risks can be minimized, and I think we can tell your friends just enough for them to make an informed decision as to get involved.”
Twilight’s gears were turning almost audibly. Less exposed to the elements... Circumstances of the time... “You’re kidding. You’re kidding, right? Wait!” Twilight grimaced and stepped back. “I know what you’re doing. You’re giving me something exciting to distract me.”
“Guilty as charged,” Celestia admitted coyly.
Twilight rolled her eyes at her mentor and sovereign. “And it’s working, too. And you know what?” She suddenly grinned. “I love it! Thank you, Princess!”
Celestia nodded, but her own expression had darkened in counterpoint to her student’s. “Allow me to tell my sister first, though.”
Twilight’s eyes widened with realization, and she nodded hastily. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I think I can do that. Yes.”
Author's Note
I think talking is a free action during a giant monster attack.
