She could feel their eyes on her as she stepped from the chariot. They watched her carefully, fearful and frozen, unsure of what she wanted or what she might do. They had no need to fear, of course, but they had every right, and she paid no mind when hushed whispers spread that Princess Luna had set hoof in Ponyville.

The crowd had grown larger since her landing, but by how much she did not know. The night was dark, and getting darker, such that it strained even her eyes to see. There were too many faces and shapes in the shadows for her to count every last one of her many, many subjects.

But they were watching her. That much was certain.

She held her head high and looked down upon them, her obsidian crown glinting imperiously in the starlight. They seemed so small and scared without guidance. It was all she could do to remind them that she was their ruler, the last bastion of safety and stability in a world that had changed. Whatever else their future held, she decided, they could take solace in the fact that they would always have a princess.

“Citizens of Ponyville!” she shouted into the dark. “Subjects of Equestria! Your Princess demands that you reveal to her the location of Twilight Sparkle!”

A gasp swept throughout the crowd and a new round of whispers filled the air. Debates flickered quietly around her, arguing in tones they thought she could not hear. What did she want with poor Twilight? What would she do if they did not tell her? Would she spare them all if they did…?

“We will not ask again!” she roared. “Speak quickly. This matter is of the gravest importance!”

Silence. And then, a voice: “In the library! The big tree at the center of town!”

Silence once more. A quiet sigh of relief in the crowd. Someone had spoken. She could not see who, and perhaps they could not either, but the weight was now off their shoulders. Twilight Sparkle’s fate was no longer their responsibility. It had become hers.

“Our thanks.” Luna nodded. She turned to her guards. “Stay with the chariot. This shall not take long.”

The crowd parted as she stepped forward, shifting quickly out of her way. They followed her cautiously into town, where the lights were brighter and the night seemed just a bit less pressing. There had been a time, once, when even the outskirts were lit, and the pale moon in the sky could beat back the darkness, but those nights were long past. The moon had never shone with any light of its own; it had only ever reflected something much brighter.

She could see them clearly now, in the dim lantern light: her subjects. Frightened ponies of all shapes, colors, and sizes. The first lines of hunger were starting to show in their faces, and their eyes, sunken back into their heads, were full of fear.

They did not know what would happen, now that she was here, and truth be told, neither did she.

But she did not let that uncertainty show as she marched proudly down the street, standing straight and tall as ever. A princess—the Princess—could not show weakness before her subjects. She could not, for even one moment, allow her subjects to believe that things would not be all right, and so she did not. She did not flinch at the sight of the market stalls, full of pale, shriveled fruits and deathly-white greens. She did not acknowledge the shrieks and screams that accompanied her as she walked. She did allow herself one look back at those following her, wondering if perhaps they were standing a little straighter now by her example...

Or was that only her imagination?

Regardless, she pushed forward. Some ponies, a precious few, stopped and bowed at her approach—they had long since learned there was no point in fleeing—and she nodded curtly to them as she passed. She felt somewhat gratified by the show of deference, but there were greater concerns on her mind. It seemed so strange to her now that, not so long ago, the sight of her subjects bowing before her was all that had mattered. Perhaps the difference was that, in her dreams, they had looked up to her with adoration instead of terror.

Eventually, she came upon the Ponyville Library, a lone, shining tree in a forest of dim houses and huts. Though the rest of the town had learned to make do with what small light their lanterns could provide them, the library shone with a brilliance all its own, flickering defiantly in the night like a candle that refused to go out.

She stepped closer to it, and for a moment the glow seemed to intensify, shining hotter and brighter than anything else ever could in the cool, dark night. She stopped, heart pounding against her chest, sweat starting to form at her brow. It wasn’t too late, she supposed. She could still turn back.

She looked back to her followers, watching her with that strange mixture of fear, awe, and wonder, and she realized that no—she couldn’t turn back. She had come this far. All she could do now was go further.

Tentatively, Luna took a step forward, then another, and another. Faster and faster. A little braver with every stride. She straightened herself as the door approached, holding her head up as high as she could and regaining her natural regal posture. She was a princess, with all the honor and majesty the title implied, and she had to act like it. Not like some beaten dog, slinking up with her tail between her legs. She was prouder than that. Better than that.

Slowly, she tapped her hoof against the door and waited. No answer. She knocked again, louder this time, and waited longer.

“I told you, I’m busy!” said a voice that slowly grew louder as hoofsteps inside the library came closer to the door. “Unless you’re bringing me new information, and I mean useful new information rather than some stupid half-cocked rumor, you can...” The door swung open, and Twilight Sparkle’s sunken purple eyes looked up at Luna. Her disheveled mane stuck out at all sorts of crazy angles and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes made her look aged beyond her years.

“Twilight Sparkle.” said Luna. “It is good to meet you. Again."

For an uncomfortably long time, the unicorn simply stared at her. Then, in a small, trembling voice, she asked: “Are you here to kill me?”

Luna felt her throat dry up. “We are... I am not here to harm you, Twilight. Only to discuss matters that concern us both.” She bit her lip. “There is much to talk about and it is cold outside tonight. May I...?”

Twilight sighed in obvious relief, standing up a little straighter. “Well, if you aren’t, I mean… And we still have the Elements if you try anything, so…” She spun on her hooves and walked back into the library leaving the door open behind her. “F-fine. Fine. Come on in, I guess.”

Luna followed, crossing the the boundary between the cool, open night air, and the stuffy, almost-suffocating warmth of the library. She shut the door quietly behind her, taking one last look at all the little ponies she was leaving behind. For them, she reminded herself as the door latched shut. For her.

Turning back from the door, she took her first good look at the library of Twilight Sparkle. It was a forest of notes and paperwork, cluttering the walls and clinging to every available surface. Diagrams and equations started on one page and trailed off into others, or to nowhere at all. She grimaced as she spotted a half-eaten daisy sandwich peeking out from a pile of debris. This, then, was her sister’s prized student?

She shook her head, looking over to Twilight. The frazzled unicorn had returned intently to her work. “So maybe if I modified this bit here…” she muttered to herself. “That’d do something there, and… No, no, no! That’s stupid!” She crumpled up the sheet of parchment she’d been working on and tossed it back onto the pile behind her. Books levitated up in a swarm around her head, flipping to this page and that as she read through them.

“Ahem.” Luna coughed, hoping to gain Twilight’s attention. “I... have been watching for your dreams, Twilight Sparkle, but I have yet to come upon any of them. Have you slept lately?”

“I’ve been awake since sundown,” Twilight replied, her focus on Orbits and You. “Somepony needs to fix this, since you won’t.” She scribbled something down on another piece of parchment and glanced over in Luna’s direction. “So what did you want, Princess? Can’t you tell I’m busy?”

“I… ah… I would...” The words died in her throat. It seemed so silly and foolish now for her to have come here. To beg from Twilight Sparkle when she had no right to, and never truly did. She already owed the young mare so much that even the idea of her proposition seemed… unwise. Arrogant. “I would…” She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “I would like some tea, first, before I speak of more important matters. It is customary to serve the Princess tea when she visits, is it not?”

“If I thought you cared for tradition, maybe,” said Twilight, scribbling down a few more notes. “Or if I thought you deserved the title…”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. She could forgive Twilight’s attitude up to a point—surely nopony deserved to be more angry at her than she—but there were limits to what could be said. There were always limits. “Whatever you may think, Twilight Sparkle,” she said curtly, “I am your princess, now, and you will show me the respect due to that station.”

“Fine,” said Twilight. She turned to the little purple dragon hiding behind the bookshelves. “Spike? Get her some tea.”

“Eep!” The dragon yelped and shot up the library’s stairs faster than Luna would have thought possible. “Sorry, can’t, Twilight!” a muffled voice from upstairs followed. “I’m, uh, dusting shelves!”

“Well, there you go.” Twilight shrugged. “No tea, I guess. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to tend to some business the real princess left me—”

“Tea, Twilight Sparkle!” Luna thundered. She stomped her hoof imperiously and a few stacks of books tumbled over. “I have entertained your remarks this far, but I will not ask again!”

Twilight shrank back. “Y-yes, of course,” she said, setting her books down. “I’ll—I’ll just get right on that, then.” She darted into the kitchen, leaving a cloud of quills and parchment in her wake.

“Yes,” said Luna, letting the power flow out of her voice. “Please do.” She sighed and paced around the library. This was not how she had wanted her meeting with Twilight Sparkle to go. She had come to offer guidance. Compassion. Not fear. The rest of Equestria, it seemed, only seemed to respond to her leadership with the latter, and her only reward for that was a recurring role in their nightmares.

But Twilight had made it necessary, hadn’t she? Not a single pony in the land had ever dared to show her such outright disrespect. Such disdain. Twilight, perhaps, had more cause than others, but still, she’d expected… better, somehow, from her sister’s prized student. Intelligence. Neatness… Forgiveness. She had not expected this rude little whelp who insulted her at every opportunity.

She sighed again as she attempted to navigate through the mess, stepping over an open copy of The History and Mystery of the Sun. Yes, she’d rather expected better of her sister’s prized pupil.

And perhaps she’d expected a faster cup of tea.

Luna paced aimlessly about the library, waiting anxiously for Twilight’s return. The walls proved a fair distraction, and she took a moment to look at the various artifacts and objects of value that had evidently been stored in the Ponyville library over the years. An antique carving. A dragon’s fang. Her eyes fell on one in particular—a wall-mounted picture of a smiling white stallion. She knew him, didn’t she? Yes, she did: Shining Armor, Captain of her Royal Guard. What would a picture of him be doing in such a place? Were he and Twilight related? She could almost see the resemblance, now that she looked, but Shining Armor had never mentioned anything about her in his reports…

She moved on to a picture of two unicorns standing together: a blue stallion and a light gray mare with a striped purple-and-white mane, a bit like Twilight’s own. Parents, perhaps? Or simply aunt and uncle?

It struck Luna that she didn’t actually know all that much about this ‘Twilight Sparkle’ pony. She’d heard things, of course—whisperings and mutterings in the Castle. She’d even met the gifted young unicorn once, though not on the best of terms. She hadn’t quite been herself at the time.

For all that, though, she only knew as much of Twilight Sparkle—Element of Magic, Savior of All Equestria, and her sister’s star pupil—as what was there on the surface. She looked again at the pictures hung around the walls, at the notes loosely piled around the library, mixed with open books and plates of half-eaten food... This, she realized, was not just a library. It was where Twilight lived.

“S-sorry it took so long,” said Twilight, returning with two steaming hot mugs and a slice of apple pie. “I’ve never really brewed my own tea before. You don’t mind sugar, do you? I needed it to stay awake.”

“No, no, not at all.” Luna accepted the cup and took a sip. It was a little sweet for her liking, but it could be considered tea. Barely. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Twilight gruffly, clearing a patch of her desk to set down her own mug and apple pie. “Really.”

Luna sipped again at the tea, trying not to dwell too hard on the aftertaste. She looked again at the picture of the smiling white stallion on the wall. “I did not know you were related to Shining Armor,” she said, somewhat conversationally. “Brother and sister, or…?”

Twilight wheeled around. “You stay away from him,” she snarled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, so don’t bring him into this.”

“I didn’t mean...” began Luna. She sighed. There was no point in arguing the matter. “Yes, of course, Twilight Sparkle. I shall ‘stay away’ from him.”

Twilight simply hmph’d. “You’d better,” she said, taking a bite of the apple pie and washing it down with her own mug of tea. “Because if I find out you laid a hoof on him, or looked at him funny, or—or even breathed too hard at him. I will find you, and this time I won’t let you go.”

“That...” said Luna, looking down at her hooves. “That was a misunderstanding.” And it had been. She’d been scared that fateful night. Confused. A thousand years of evil stripped away in seconds by the Elements of Harmony. No longer the tall, proud Nightmare Moon, but the small, frightened Luna she’d always been. What else could she have done but flee?

“And Princess Celestia?” asked Twilight, taking an enormous bite out of her apple pie. “Was that all it was, then? Just a big misunderstanding?”

“Yes,” said Luna simply. “A misunderstanding...”

And it had been.

For a while Luna stood in silence, quietly sipping her tea until there was none left in the mug. Twilight, for her part, simply finished her apple pie and returned to her studies. Luna half-heard her muttering modest obscenities in between complex equations, burying her anger in parchment and ink.

“I am impressed that you still have apple pie in Ponyville,” said Luna, more to break the silence than anything. “I had not thought—”

“It was a gift from Applejack,” Twilight huffed. “You know, the Element of Honesty? She grows apples. I’m trying to keep your ego trip from putting her out of business.”

“Ah.” Luna nodded. She did not bother handling the barbs in Twilight’s remarks—perhaps if she simply ignored them, they would disappear. “I will give her my condolences at some point. I… did not know one of your friends had been so gravely affected by this.”

“Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” said Twilight. “Maybe you should’ve thought a little harder about yours.”

“Perhaps...” Luna agreed. “Still, I imagine Applejack must be a very good friend of yours, to willingly give you the best of her crop in this time of crisis.”

For the first time Twilight looked up at her. “I… guess so,” she said. “I hadn’t really—I mean, I knew she—” She narrowed her eyes at Luna, and went back to her work. “Well, what would you know about friendship anyway?”

“Oh, enough,” said Luna simply. “You can learn much by observation, if not by practice.” And, to prove her point, she picked up a few of Twilight’s notes, skimming over them to decipher their meaning. Twilight had etched them all with a crude array of crossed-out letterings and scribbles, but through them a glimmer of meaning shined.

A spark of genius, even.

“What approach are you taking to the problem at hoof?” asked Luna. Perhaps if she simply started acting in the role she meant to play, reality would somehow conform to her wishes. There was a first time for everything, after all. “Levitation?”

“Yes!” Twilight’s face brightened for a moment. “I’ve been trying to explain that to Spike for—” She stopped again and thought for a moment. When she couldn’t find anything objectionable in the Princess’ words or tone, she grudgingly set her quill down and for once gave Luna her full attention. “Yes, levitation. That’s one of the ideas, anyway. The theory is that I could pull another star closer to Equestria and we could use its light, but the complications are tricky because the distances involved are astronomical... Uh, literally.”

“I imagine so.” Luna gave out a little snort of amusement, at which Twilight frowned. “A very original idea, but it runs afoul of Clover’s Law. The power necessary would dwarf the capabilities of even the Elements of Harmony. You could not hope to channel such energy safely.”

A heavy silence filled the room. “That... wouldn’t be a deal-breaker,” said Twilight, after a time. “Even if it were unsafe, that’s a sacrifice I could make. It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

“No, Twilight,” said Luna. “Enough sacrifices have already been made in this debacle, and I have no desire to see you added to their number.” She reached a wing out to give the little unicorn a hug. An offer of comfort, from one who had seen too many years to one who had seen too few. It was only right of her to do so, as reigning Princess to her subjects…

Twilight recoiled from her, backing away from her outstretched wing. “That’s not your call to make, Princess,” she spat. “What have you done to fix this, besides hole up in Canterlot and make everything worse?” She glared at Luna. “I know what you’ve been telling everypony.” Her tone became a cruel mockery of the Royal Canterlot Voice, half-shouting, “‘Just a temporary crisis! Once the throne is secure...’”

She snorted. “They still believe that you know. That they’ll get the sun back if they keep bowing down to you. But that’s not the truth, is it? The Elements worked—I’m sure they did now. There’s only one theory left that fits all the evidence.”

Luna sat there and said nothing, allowing Twilight to zero in on the terrible secret she’d been so desperate to keep from her kingdom. She didn’t have to confirm it. She could have repeated the lie, through her teeth if she had to. She could have reassured Twilight that the only reason the sun wasn’t shining now was because she was still seeing to the safety and stability of her kingdom, keeping the discontents who might shatter it into a thousand pieces under control... But she wouldn’t. There needed to be trust now between her and Twilight, and trust demanded the truth.

Even if that truth could send all Equestria spiraling into panic.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Twilight sneered. “Princess Celestia handled the sun and the moon on her own for a thousand years, but you can’t even handle it for a single day. You don’t want to do this for stability or your ego—well, maybe your ego, but the truth is just that you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I... I am not my sister,” said Luna. Her gaze fell to the platinum shoes that covered her hooves. “Nor will I ever be.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Twilight slumped down to the floor, kicking up several pages of notes. “So we’re doomed, is what you want to tell me.” She kicked up another pile of notes. “Great,” she muttered. She got up and began to stalk in a circle around the perimeter of the room. “Dandy,” she continued, with still more conviction and rage in her voice. “Wonderful, outstanding, incredible, FANTASTIC!” She turned to Luna, her eyes aflame with anger. “So what’s your plan, then? We just give up?”

“Hope remains,” Luna whispered. “There is always another way.” The words seemed so flimsy, so weak, coming from her, but a stronger princess than her had spoken them once. “My sister—your mentor—she said that, before—”

“Before what?” Twilight demanded. “Before you killed her?”

And there it was.

“I tried everything,” said Twilight. “I did what she asked of me, found the Elements, made friends, and none of it matters anymore! I was too slow, or too stupid, or too something, and I failed her and now she’s dead! She’s dead, and the sun’s gone, I’m just sitting here having tea with her murderer!”

“I am not my sister,” said Luna, “but nor am I Nightmare Moon. I was her, yes, but she is not me.”

“So?” said Twilight. “Fat lot of good that does any of us.” She set about collecting all the notes she’d kicked up, reorganizing them into their piles. “If you’re not here to help, then why are you here?”

Luna paused. The time at last. There was no more dancing around the matter. “But that is why I have come here,” she said. She thought of extending a hoof to Twilight, but thought better of it at the last moment. “I wish to offer you my services as a teacher. Truly, you are gifted—I can see that much—but gifts are not much without guidance. I lack the strength to bring about the day’s return alone, but with the help of another...”

With the help of her sister’s own prized pupil…

Twilight looked up at her, mouth hanging half-open. “Is that what this was about?” she asked. “You want me to become your student? After all you’ve done? You have the nerve to come here and ask that?”

“What else can I do?” Luna pleaded. “What else can either of us do? I ask not for nerve but because—”

“Because you always wanted to be her, didn’t you?” said Twilight, not to be stopped. “You wanted—you wanted the throne, and you wanted everypony to love you like they loved her, and… and now you want me too!”

“Twilight—”

“But you know what? You’re never going to be half the Princess she was. Never. You don’t know how. You proved that the minute you thought it was a better idea to kill her and be the only Princess than to make things right, and now the rest of us are all stuck cleaning up your mess.”

“Twilight, please. I did not—”

“So if that’s all you’re offering, Princess Luna, one and only, you can get out of my house, sashay back up to Canterlot, and perch on your stolen throne all night. I may not have all the answers yet, but at least I’m looking for them because I cared about her, not because I couldn’t deal with the consequences of killing my own—”

“Twilight Sparkle!” Luna boomed, and all the library shook with the force of her voice. All the rage and hate and fear she had been keeping bottled up inside her was spilling out now, like a torrential flood. Twilight cowered from her, as the air crackled and sparked with energy, and for a moment Luna felt like she really would smite the young unicorn for her presumption. Her daring. Her lies...

Until she felt a warm tear roll down her cheek and she realized she was crying. Twilight’s remarks had hit closer to home than she could ever have guessed.

“Do you think you are the only one who misses her?” Luna demanded. “Is that it?” She was crying now in earnest. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps and her eyes were blurred by tears. "Do you think it hurts any less because it was my hoof that did the deed? That I was so petty and foolish that I would slay my own sister over something so trifling? Do you not think I would trade this stolen throne of mine in an instant if it would bring her back, even for a minute? Just to see her smile once more, or tell that same, tired joke about the pegasus and the phoenix? Do you not think I would now, if I could?"

She stomped her hooves and again the library shook. “Answer me!”

The library went quiet and for a moment everything stood deathly still. Twilight’s eyes grew wider and wider in their sockets, until at last she spoke. “She... told you that joke too?”

“She liked it very much.” Luna took a deep breath, her anger fading now that she’d finally let it all out. “I still recall some others: the green and the purple grape, the unicorns in a band…”

“The circus joke,” Twilight finished softly. “...Did you hear about the fire at the circus?”

“Of course.” Luna sighed. “It was in tents.”

Twilight smiled, the corners of her eyes glimmering with tears. “It’s still a pretty bad joke,” she whispered.

“It is,” said Luna, lips trending upward into a smile of her own. “Would that we could all hear it for the dozenth time.”

“I miss her so much,” said Twilight, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “I… guess we all do.”

“Indeed.” Luna nodded. A memory crept into her mind as she looked at the young unicorn standing before her. A recollection of a moment that seemed now a hundred years old: the last day before the darkness. Nightmare Moon had been standing tall and proud, wreathed in shadow, triumphant at last over the Princess of the Day. And when she’d bent down to hear her sister’s final words—an apology, perhaps, or a plea for her life—she’d heard…

Please. Just don’t hurt Twilight.

There had been many other things said on that final day, but that had been the strangest to her by far. She had wondered for a very long time as to why her sister had spoken those words as her last. What bond could be strong enough that, in the end, she had begged for her student’s life instead of her own.

But now… She had caught a glimpse of that bond—a mere fraction of what had been shared between her sister and Twilight Sparkle—and it seemed to Luna a strong bond indeed.

“I do not know for certain,” said Luna, “what power my sister saw in you, Twilight Sparkle. But I have no doubt it was something greater than I can yet comprehend. There are many things she alone knew that, by my arrogance, have been lost to us forever.”

Twilight looked up at her. She didn’t speak, but nodded slowly.

“But I do see in you a glimmer of something special,” Luna continued, “and if by some miracle I can learn to reflect even a small part of that… then perhaps…” She sighed. “I know I cannot be your teacher,” she said, extending a hoof to her sister’s most faithful student. “I am not half the princess my sister was, nor shall I ever be… but there may yet be things that we can teach each other, and if you so wish, I will do my best to lend you my wisdom if you will lend me yours.”

For a moment, Twilight looked as though she might recoil from the gesture once more—and, despite all that had just transpired between them, Luna would not have blamed her if she did. She met Luna’s gaze with tired eyes, scrutinizing her as she might a textbook, looking for even the slightest sign that Luna had spoken anything less than the absolute truth…

And she took the hoof up in her own, giving it a firm shake. “All right,” Twilight said, smiling. “That... that wouldn’t be too bad, I guess... Princess.”

“That is all I could have hoped for,” said Luna, returning the smile. She looked again to Twilight’s notes, picking one up from the pile. There were a few minor errors in the calculations—born of misconceptions, more than anything else—but the theories were all quite promising. A bounty of ideas that would have made her sister proud, if she had been there to see them. “We can start tonight, if you wish.”

“If you could,” said Twilight. She looked to all her work, still strewn throughout the library in hazardous piles, and yawned. “In fact, I’ll… I’ll go and make us some more tea. Looks like we’re going to be up for a while.”

“I should like that very much,” said Luna. As Twilight went off to brew up another batch of tea, Luna continued sifting through her notes, sorting each of them by their potential. It was work better suited for palace servants, perhaps, than the Princess of all Equestria, but she went about her task gladly. For the first time in a long while, it seemed to her as if there might be some hope after all. Some chance that, despite all she’d done, she might still find redemption.

“And so it is said,” she whispered to herself, leafing through another stack of parchment, “that the stars will aid in her escape, and together they will bring an end to nighttime eternal.”