Celestia returned with the dawn.

She hadn’t really intended it, but the sun’s rhythms were her rhythms, even if she wasn’t the one raising it. The first morning rays struck the top of Canterlot as she passed through the gates, drawing startled looks from the guards stationed there. The seniormost one peeled off and hurried to her side. “Princess Celestia! You’re back!”

“I am indeed, Sergeant Snowbank. I hope my absence wasn’t too disruptive for you.”

“Er.” He paused for a moment, torn between agreeing with his liege and implying that he didn’t miss her.

She laughed softly. “I’ll settle for the expression on your face when you saw me arrive. Have Luna and Twilight been keeping you busy?”

“It’s been a bit hectic around here,” Snowbank admitted, stretching his legs to keep up with her casual stride. “I mean, the first night or two were about the same, but then things got a bit strange.”

“Strange?” Celestia took a deep breath of cool city air. She rarely saw the dawn in Canterlot from anywhere but her balcony, and it was a different experience to be in the streets. It was quieter than the palace, but here and there isolated pockets of noise revealed early risers; a door banging off in the distance, a sudden roar of laughter, a bubble of conversation cut short. A sleepy couple making their way home stopped and stared and then knelt as she walked by. She smiled at them, nodded, and then paused as the scent of fresh bread wafted across the road from some nearby bakery. The palace had its own bakeries, of course, but there was something different about running across it unexpectedly.

“Well, I’m not really clear on exactly what happened. Princess Twilight made a speech about something and lit up the whole audience hall.”

Celestia felt her brows climb of their own accord, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“Then she hauled in half the guard to get all the prisoners settled and the other half is off doing all these errands for Princess Luna…” He shook his head. “I’m just glad they left enough for the usual posts.”

“Princess? Prisoners? My, they have been busy.” Celestia wasn’t entirely surprised. Her sister had a habit of upending things, though admittedly not to the degree that the entire royal guard was needed to take care of it. That seemed more like Twilight’s touch. The title, though, wasn’t. The prisoners made only a little more sense, because at least for that she had some possibilities at hoof.

It was both strange and refreshing to be so disconnected from the apparatus of Equestria and the court that she could only make guesses. And yet she found herself only mildly curious. Even the most foreboding horrors of a court in chaos were nothing compared to the real worst case scenarios. She’d lost a loved one for a thousand years; she didn’t want to lose two for longer.

“Since you’re back now, Princess…” Snowbank didn’t finish the sentence, looking over at her in what he thought was a surreptitious manner.

“Will I be taking the throne again?” Celestia looked up at the towers of Canterlot Castle. “We’ll see. It’s entirely possible Twilight and Luna won’t need my help at all.”

“Even if they don’t...well, y’know, we like having you around.”

Celestia stopped and smiled at him. “Thank you, Snowbank. It’s always nice to hear that.”

Snowbank beamed. Celestia resumed her amble toward the castle where, no doubt, word was being passed to Captain Lightbeam even now about her arrival. She looked forward to the exquisitely polite scolding she’d get from him for misleading him about the nature of her trip, a small pocket of normalcy in an uncertain world.

But that would have to wait. She intended to see Luna and Twilight first, no matter how easy it would be to get distracted by other things. She could have simply stepped through light and reached the palace directly, but a deliberate approach, through the front door, felt more appropriate. At that moment, it was more their home than hers.

A few specks in the air resolved themselves into members of the Celestial Guard in gleaming gold and white, dropping down to land on either side of her. They peered around as if searching for enemies in the middle of the nearly deserted early-morning streets, giving Snowbank a professional salute only after their survey was complete. “Welcome back, ma’am,” the senior guard said to her.

“Thank you, Brightwing.” He came to even stricter attention, if that were possible, as she regarded him. “I hope you don’t expect I have so many enemies that they lurk in the very streets of Canterlot.”

“No, ma’am!” There was a glimmer of humor in Brightwing’s eye despite his brusque reply. They were used to her gentle ribbing where their protectiveness was concerned, but she also made sure they knew she was genuinely appreciative of their efforts. Most of the threats any pony faced in life weren’t physical, after all.

“Well, it’s a fine morning if you wish to join me. I’m only going to the palace, but it’s to face the most dangerous enemy of all.”

“...Discord?”

“Work.” In fact, she would rather have faced a pre-friendship Discord than what she had to, and it was hardly something her guards could protect her from.

“Of course, ma’am,” Brightwing said dutifully. With the armored pegasi on either side her presence was more familiar, and while everypony she passed still knelt, fewer outright gawked.

The first thing she noticed when she reached the palace gates was the wings.

Luna and Twilight were waiting for her, as she’d half-expected, and Luna had finally let her guards accompany her again. Twilight didn’t have her own guards - not yet - but she was matching Luna’s height, her ethereal mane, and her wings.

Celestia stared. She had given up that hope when Twilight had returned with the mantle of divinity. After all, gods didn’t change.

She set that aside, studying them more closely. They both seemed a little worn, a little haggard. Not unhappy, but overworked, and Luna had lost that dangerous fragility she’d carried for so long, while Twilight seemed to have gained some additional worries to go with her wings.

There was a moment where they all simply looked at each other as Celestia stopped in front of them, and then they all three spoke the same words at the same time. “We need to talk.”

***

As settings went for world-shaking conversations, Pony Joe’s donut shop was better than most Celestia had seen. Any number of rooms in the palace might have sufficed for the purpose, but Twilight had insisted and Celestia saw no real reason to object. Most conference rooms were distant and impersonal affairs, not stocked with spiced cocoa and frosted donuts. Joe, no stranger to high-profile customers, pretended not to notice three alicorns at a corner table and their guards screening them in the surrounding booths.

They traded bites of story between bites of pastry. It was not as cheerful as Celestia might have wished, but there wasn’t the angry animosity she had feared, either. If anything there was a wary tension, an uncertainty of how she would take, for example, Twilight’s accidental halting of Equestria’s clock. Or of Luna’s efforts in the court. Or, most of all, their acquisition of Chrysalis and her changelings.

As if they were afraid she would be mad at them.

Once the words had trailed into unsettled silence and the mugs had been refilled for a third time, Celestia floated a tentative conversational balloon.

“You should know,” she said. “That I am nothing but proud of both of you.”

Twilight made a half of a noise and shifted uncomfortably, but Celestia shook her head.

“Everypony makes mistakes, but you two have addressed them. Admirably so. But I have not addressed mine.

“I should start,” she said. “By apologizing. I should not have run off like that after dropping such a burden on the two of you. It isn’t a weight I can lift or undo or ever make right, but it is my responsibility. The least I can do is be here to address it.”

“So why did you leave?” Twilight blurted.

“Shh,” Luna said, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “It’s not often you get to hear Celestia apologize.”

“And in this case it’s very deserved. But I can answer your question.” She looked from one to the other. “Luna, I lost you over a thousand years ago. There’s no blame, no accusations, but our relationship changed, and I don’t know if it can ever be recovered. Or should be. But I still love you, Luna, more than the rest of this whole world, and you had returned to me. I didn’t want to face losing you again.”

“And you, Twilight. I love all my ponies but you are more dear to me than you can imagine. I was not ready to face the risk that I might lose you too. I have faced the consequences of all of my actions, but when it became personal I...flinched.”

“We might have been angry, but we wouldn't have been angry forever,” Twilight protested.

Celestia took a sip of her cocoa before responding. “Perhaps. But Twilight, gods do not change. Or did not. To hold a grudge for a thousand years, or a hundred thousand, was no great strain. Second chances are rare and precious things.”

Twilight and Luna shared a look. “The question of second chances came up with Chrysalis, too,” Twilight said. “And in some ways I feel like I’m back in the Star Chamber again.” She rubbed at her forehead with a hoof. “I’ll never be happy that you manipulated me my entire life. But now, after these past few days...I think I understand. Being responsible as a pony, ruler, and god all at once is incredibly hard, and you can’t just do what you want.”

“And I’d forgotten,” said Luna. “How many different directions you get pulled in when you’re trying to do right by so many ponies.”

“I’d probably have forgiven you anyway,” Twilight continued. “Because I love you, too! But I feel I understand why you did it far more now. And that you didn’t do it for any other reason but that you had to. So I forgive you, Princess - I mean, Celestia.” Twilight smiled. “And I’m glad you’re back.”

“As am I, sister mine.” Luna leaned forward earnestly. “I understand only too well how flighty I have been in the past, and how far you must have been driven in order to lay such long plans for me. And I cannot begrudge what it has given me.” She smiled at Twilight before turning back to Celestia. “Even if I dislike the methods. So welcome back, and let there be no more veils between us.”

Celestia let out a long, slow breath. That had been far less painful than she had expected, but then she had known something had changed when she had seen the expressions greeting her.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling a great deal lighter than just a few seconds previously. “You have no idea how grateful I am to hear you say that. I was afraid my revelation might have come too late.”

“What revelation?” Twilight pounced immediately, heedless of the emotional climate, but that was simply as it should be.

“That I’d neglected simply being a pony for far too long.” Celestia pursed her lips. “That in truth I was afraid of what came with it. The relationships, the obligations, and the vulnerabilities.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Luna observed. “Not the first part, but admitting it so flatly.”

“Perhaps not.” Celestia gave Luna a faint smile. “But none of us are so perfect that we cannot improve. I am glad for the chance.”

“If we are making such confessions,” Luna said. “Then I must admit it was fear that held me back as well. Fear of...many things.” She dismissed the thought with a vague gesture. “But Twilight helped me face truly ruling again. And ruling more completely than I did millennia ago. I hadn’t realized how incomplete I’d been.”

“Incomplete,” Twilight said. “That’s it exactly.” She fluttered her wings briefly. “That’s why I didn’t have these before. My understanding, my commitment, was incomplete. I was avoiding stepping into the whole god thing because...well, it was unknown. There weren’t books on it, and it wasn’t anything you could really study. But once I made the decision…” Her muzzle wrinkled as she searched for a proper way to conclude her thought. “Everything changed. But you said gods don’t change.”

“They didn’t,” Celestia said seriously. “But that may no longer be true.”

“What happened?”

“You did, Twilight.” Celestia nibbled a doughnut thoughtfully. “At least, I think it is you. We are truths of how the world works, Luna and I, and we in many ways define our peoples. But you’ve stepped outside that. I think you might define truths about how we work.”

“So I can just decide something and it will be true?” Twilight asked incredulously. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“I would think,” Luna murmured. “That it’s who you are that changes things. You saved me. You’re saving Chrysalis. You let Celestia go on her journey. How many other things have you done that have changed the world?”

“That’s different! Doing what’s right and being someone’s friend isn’t world-changing magic...oh.” Twilight stopped herself. “It is, isn’t it? It’s the most fundamental magic of all.”

“You would know,” Celestia smiled. “It’s your area of expertise, after all.”

“If I have...or at least, can, change gods...then the whole world is about to transform, isn’t it?” Twilight said, daunted. “And it will be because of me.”

“I have said,” Luna smiled. “That it was your duty to do the impossible.”

“But you won’t be alone,” Celestia assured her. “You will have Luna, of course. And me, if you wish.”

“Of course I wish!” Twilight sounded surprised she would even ask. “I want you back.”

“We want you back,” Luna said. “You need to be part of Equestria again.”

“Equestria was only ever meant for two,” Celestia said doubtfully.

Twilight shook her head. “If it worked when there was only you, it’ll work with all three of us. I’m sure of it.”

“And whether Twilight and I are good or bad at ruling, I think it would be incomplete without you as well. Two is no longer enough.”

“Then I suppose we will have to see what happens.”

Celestia unfurled her godhead, reaching out for the living tapestry that was Equestria. It welcomed her like an old friend, flowing around and through her, the familiar weight settling into her being. The flare was only visible to gods’ eyes, but it flashed out from the small table, bright and penetrating sunlight suffusing every fiber of Equestria’s soul.

The balance was not the singular monopole of the thousand year interregnum, nor the circling duality of the original Diarchy. It was different. It was a triad. It was something that reverberated to the furthest ends of Equestria and back, humming between the three of them and rippling out to every living thing.

It was a new world.

Author's Notes:

And that's the end.

I don't have any plans to write any further sequels. There may or may not be codas.
Also, for anyone wondering about continuity errors: I'm retconning Apotheosis to occur after the first episode of S3. That fixes everything!