Time slowed the moment Gareth stepped into the mirror. A multi-coloured tunnel of blinding light enveloped him, shattering glass rumbled in his ears.

It was fast, all too fast. Gareth had ridden horses as fast as they could go, but even Potestas could never reach such speeds.

Then his foot hit the ground on the other side. The tunnel of light vanished, replaced by pitch darkness and the ringing in his ears. The Rat, hidden and trembling underneath his tabard, refused to budge.

“C’mon,” Gareth said, fishing his companion out and holding him up. “It’s over, look.”

It was hard to see far, the shattered-glass Mirror didn’t cast much light, but even that was enough to see what lined the walls: crystals. Massive, pillar-sized crystals. They filled a cavern big enough to fit a castle. The red glow of the Mirror reflected off them, marred by a human-shaped silhouette standing in front of it.

“God above,” Gareth gasped. This place… he had to show Cecilia: she’d love it. Now, if only he had a torch.

The Rat chirped and dove off his hand. Paws skittered across stone, running into the darkness. Within moments, he returned, struggling to drag a tattered flagpole.

Ah-hah. Gareth grinned underneath his helmet, walking over. He tugged off his glove and felt the fabric. Cotton, probably only a few years old. It would burn well.

“Squeak?” The Rat stood up on his hindlegs, grinning hopefully.

“Yes. Good.” Gareth nodded. He bundled up the flag around the pole and struck from flint from his belt.

It burned brightly, illuminating the surrounding grounds. Even with his visor down, this would be more than enough. The torch's light revealed the remains of a campsite, just a few yards away. The collapsed tent and dusty cooking utensils attested to at least a few months of abandonment. There was a flag of Equestria just outside the tent, presumably just like the one that was now lighting their way.

Well, at least he was still in Equestria. Gareth glanced back to the glass Mirror.

It looked the same as it was on the other side.

Hopefully this Mirror didn't have any 'three-day' limitation nonsense. What was it that Cecilia said? Ah, yes, 'Never use an Artefact without knowing what it does.'

There was a tug at his boot. The Rat pointed to the outline of a gothic church that loomed over them.

Gareth sucked in a breath, stepping back. How the hell did he miss that?

Not a stone out of place, not even the mortar was cracked. There wasn’t a hint of decay anywhere. In England that was a sign of an occupied castle. In Equestria… well, that meant magic, most likely. The Rat squeaked again, pointing higher. A stained-glass mirror – built just above the double-door entrance – depicted a white alicorn standing opposite a brown griffin.

“…C'mon,” Gareth muttered. He kneeled down, offering his free hand to the Rat.

The Rat gave a slow squeak, stepping back.

“What is it now?” Gareth grunted impatiently.

He squeaked again, pointing at Gareth’s bare hand. Gareth hadn’t put his glove back on.

Gareth pulled his hand back so fast that it bounced off his hauberk. Oh God, he nearly contracted the plague! OhGodohGodohGod—

The Rat shoved a claw into his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at Gareth’s expense. It wasn’t working.

Gareth's cheeks burned. Grumbling, he snatched up his leather glove, tugged it on, and grabbed the Rat. They were wasting time here; there was a book to find.

The Rat took a moment to snuggle down in his hand before sniffing the air. With an excited squeak, he pointed a claw towards the doors. They looked thick and heavy… and without a doorknob.

Gareth walked forward. Perhaps it wasn't locked? He nudged it with the tip of his boot.

The door groaned open under its own power, iron grinding against stone. Dust rained down; it was dark inside. The Rat sniffed again and chirped, urging him ahead with a claw.

Something felt wrong about this place. This wasn't a church. Churches were places of fellowship, community and worship. This felt more like a mausoleum. With torch held high, Gareth stepped inside.

Pale glowing lights stretched out in the distance, lining the rectangular stone walls. Golden arched windows began to brighten into existence. With each step taken the lights grew brighter until – upon reaching the very centre – the entirety of the auditorium had grown bright as day. The floors and wall were crafted of the finest stone; the ceiling was painted a sky blue with an enormous orange crystal for a sun. Finally, the light from the arched window turned into rainbows as they revealed their true form: stained glass windows.

The sudden burst of colour and light was overwhelming despite Gareth's visor. He’d never seen such a blatant display of magical power. To alight an entire room, all at once, with nary a candle, a torch or a match... and those stained glass windows! He had to see what they were!

Shapes filled in at his approach. A brown-feathered griffin, nearly identical to the one before, stood with his head bowed. One of his eyes was silver and the other, a burned out socket; his brow twisted into a stoic glare. The griffin was armed with brass chest plate buckled onto his torso and a pale green longsword in his claws. Behind him, background swept out into a long, mountain range. To his left, standing upon the distant mountain, was Cecilia’s sister. To his right stood Cecilia. Far above them was an ominous mass of writhing, black crystals.

“Who,” Gareth breathed. He set the Rat on his shoulder and pressed a hand up against the glass. “Who are—”

His hand passed through like it was thin air.

What! Gareth shouted, jumping back and holding the torch out like a sword.

The Rat shrieked in panic, giving him a disbelieving stare. Seconds passed. The window shed its silent light.

“I...I’m fine,” Gareth murmured. He stepped forward, stabbing at the mirror with the torch. The tip vanished, and then reappeared as he pulled back. “I’m just... very confused. Is the book in there?”

Giving a sigh, the Rat rapped his knuckles on Gareth’s helmet and pointed to the far side of the church. Standing on a wooden pulpit was a shabby-looking tome: Gareth’s target.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Gareth strode across the stone floors with purpose. He'd about had his fill of sorcery.

The other stained glass windows filled out as well. There were eight in total. Some of the figures held weapons, some held books, one of them even wore a jester’s cap, but there were all male, all stood in the centre, and all had Cecilia by their side.

Cecilia’s husbands... his predecessors, the ones she loved before him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, the thought of Cecilia lying with another made his stomach squirm. On the other, well, he hardly made it a secret about how many maidens he’d known before her. They’d speak about it later. He doubted that she even remembered this place. For now, the book.

Bound in hard leather, the diary was strikingly plain. No glow of magic nor sprinkle of gold, the only thing that distinguished it was a symbol of the sun crudely engraved upon the cover. The cover opened into smooth and fresh pages. Sparkles of light fell from them instead of dust. Unfortunately… the pages were blank.

Gareth frowned, flicking through the book. Nothing. The book was empty. No! This couldn't have been a distraction, could it?

The Rat leapt onto the pulpit, glancing down before giving an apologetic shrug.

"It's okay," Gareth grumbled. Taking the book, real or not, would be better than coming back with nothing. There wasn't really any choice; he scooped up the diary and reached over to the Rat.

Only the Rat was not looking at him, staring over behind the pulpit.

Gareth followed its gaze, holding up the torch.

Upon the wall was another arched window but, unlike the others it didn't depict anyone. The glass was semi-transparent; Gareth could make out the outline of crystals on the other side. Glued in the middle was note.

Ice flowed into Gareth's veins. The torch clattered to the floor. He recognised the hoof-writing. Gareth stepped around the side of the pulpit, mesmerised, reaching out and pulling the note away. There were two passages, Equestrian and, right below it, English.

To the Lady-in-Waiting of the Sun,

I have left Equestria, and I will not return. If it is answers that you seek then look at the diary behind you. It's contents display only under the presence of a certain spell. I would beg you, however, to ensure that no-one follows, that no-one comes to look for me. I have harmed Equestria enough, and I fear that they may harm themselves more before they have truly healed from their reliance upon me.

Translate my diary or leave it here forever. Do what you feel is right. Equestria belongs to the Equestrians now, as it always should have been.

-Celestia, former Princess of Equestria

The note must have been written years ago.

"Years ago," Gareth murmured. He pressed his hand up against the glass.

It was solid.

Fire replaced ice. He let out a bellowing shout, slamming his metal fist into the glass.

Cracks filled his ears as spider webs raced across the glass's surface. The sketch fluttered down to the ground. A high-pitched gasp of fear came from behind. The Rat looked on in horror, cupping his claws across his mouth.

He stopped. Gareth looked down at his gauntlet, then to the not lying at his feet, now showered in sprinkled glass.

She lied to him. She did leave Equestria. Gareth was nothing more than a patsy.

"I'm sorry." A voice spoke from behind.

All thoughts of Cecilia vanished. Gareth turned in place, drawing his dagger. He narrowed his eyes, glancing about through his visor.

Larms stood in the middle of the church, watching with a neutral expression despite his head wound. A white bandage wrapped the tip of his head and around his chin. He trotted forward, alone, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Larms," Gareth growled. He stepped to the pulpit, shielding the book from Larms.

There was a flash of blue light in the distance, outside the double doors. It was only a flash, but it was enough to see the outline of more than a dozen equestrian forms. They wore golden barding. Seconds later, the door closed with an eerie silence.

Sweat broke out on Gareth's skin. Gareth dropped his stance, sheathing his dagger. He was cornered.

The sound of hoof-on-stone stopped with Larms before him. He glanced at the book, the glass arch, and then back. Sadly shaking his head, Larms plonked his flank onto the ground and pulled out a small metal flask. As the cap popped off, the smell of whisky filled the air.

Gareth slowly lowered himself down, watching Larms' every move. He hoped the Rat was smart enough to hide and stay hidden. One of them needed to warn Cecilia.

"Drink?" Larms offered the flask.

Gareth politely shook his head. He couldn't quite remember the Equestrian words for 'No thanks, I don't drink poison'.

Larms shrugged, muttering something to the effect of 'suit yourself' before taking a long swig. Larms watched Gareth for a few moment before sighing again. "Alright, time to come clean."

Gareth looked away. The last thing he wanted to do was… wait. That was English. He glanced back, eyes wide.

"Surprised?" Larms chuckled darkly. "Don't be. The Crystal Mirror is a marvelous invention. Just much do you know about it, Gareth?"

Panic and confusion combined, Gareth inched back. This… how did— when did— no! Cecilia kept the Mirror a secret!

"Calm yourself," Larm stated, unmoving. "The Mirror changes ponies to humans, helps us to survive our short expedition. Gives us clothing, motor-functions… and the ability to speak. Yet, it leaves out small, less-vital, things. We have no understanding of the local culture, have no fine control over our bodies, and we cannot recognise complex symbols… like writing."

That clicked in Gareth's mind. Noble Era's desk flashed before him. "You needed Era to translate the diary."

"Correct! And those pegasi that went through the Mirror to fetch Celestia?" Larms continued, "They got the ability to speak as well, even if they didn't use it beyond 'What-ho yer majesty, oop, into the sack ye' go!' Now, far be it from an enterprising gentleman such as myself to waste something like that. I had Noble Era 'fortify' an Ambassador's pill for me. Cumulus was kind enough to, uh, 'lend me his voice' for this. You and I, man to man, having one last drink before the end."

"What end?" Gareth asked.

Larms paused at that. His features turned down, looking back at his flask. "Because… well, because I've come to believe that you truly love your wife. I want you to help her."

"Fuck you."

"Hey, I'm serious lad!" Larms exclaimed. A wry smile come to his lips before reuniting it with his flask. "Gareth, my lad, do you really think that Celestia is happy here?"

That struck deep. 'No' was the immediate answer, but Cecilia wasn't here because she wanted to be happy. Hell, she wasn't even here because she chose to, not at first. She chose to stay...

"I know what you're thinking, Gareth. I've been there before." Larms gestured to the cracked mirror behind him. "She left us. What's to stop her from just leaving you?"

Gareth's mouth went dry. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"She – Princess Celestia, that is— left us, left Equestria, because she left like she couldn't fix it." Larms took another swig; this was one deeper, lasting seconds. He came up for air with a gasp. "I'd wager she's counting down the hours with you."

That rage came back, drawing Gareth's hands into fists. "She… I-I—"

"I'm sorry Gareth," Larms said, sadly shaking his head. "Really, I am. You don't need to explain, either. You did a brave thing to follow her here, but, the thing is, you and I are talking about different people. Hell, if it's any consolation, you never had the chance to meet the real Princess Celestia--"

"Bullshit!" Gareth shouted, standing to his feet. "That IS Cecilia. She IS my wife!"

A dark, low chuckle came from Larm's lips. "And that's something to be proud of? She went to great lengths to leave Equestria, y'know. Unless you STILL think it was an accident. C'mon, an immortal queen gets hit on the noggin' with a bucket and she just… loses it all? All those memories. All those emotions and planning, centuries away with just 'Konk; oh dearie me'!"

Gareth grasped his hands. "She--"

"Wouldn't lie to you?" Larms shook his head. "I'm sorry lad, but she knew us for much longer. Princess Celestia tells white lies, all to protect you, o'course. She wanted to protect us, didn't want to tell the real reason for going. This was all by design."

Gareth remembered the Everfree.

"Th-this is not a place for humans. You must leave," the white horse said.

Gareth's lungs burned, he needed to breathe. He flicked up his visor and pulled out the cloth, gasping for air. He staggered away, towards the shattered glass. It crunched as his shoulder landed into it. She was lying to him, even back then.

"You're a soldier, aren't you?" Larms said, standing with him.

Gareth froze, hands pressed up against his helmet.

"What… what if your liege told you that she was holding back the realm?" Larm's eyes were earnest. He stepped closer. "What if she told you, that she was going to destroy herself, so utterly, that if she came back, it simply wouldn't be her anymore?"

"She… s-she—"

Larms nodded. "Is your wife, and she needs you. Listen to me Gareth; I've come to believe that her coming back was a good thing. Equestria needs to let Princess Celestia go on their own terms, not hers. If you truly love her, and if you truly respect her love for Equestria, you will help her do that. She won't listen to us, but she'll listen to you."

Gareth squeezed his eyes shut. "Listen to me...?"

I-I just don't know what to do, Gareth! I can't do this, I don't remember how!

He remembered brushed his fingers through her mane. Consoling her.

She couldn't help it. Celestia's face twitched, her poker face shattered as she burst out laughing.

In the throne room, the mask broke away. Gareth helped her delay rebellion.

Gareth approached. His gloved hand reached out, gently touching her feathers. Fine leather fingers found where the bone of her wing was. A chill went up Celestia's spine as Gareth's warm, bare hand began to feel around the base where feather met fur.

Back in the Everfree, he tried to come to terms with his wife's new form.

Therein lies the problem, doesn't it? You affect her, Gareth, deeply. I've seen it.

Noble Era was right. He DID affect her.

"Gareth?" Larms sounded concerned, or at least tried to. "Are you alright, lad?"

Realisation burnt into Gareth's mind. Larms was right. He never did meet Princess Celestia. Never. Gareth didn't know why Cecilia wanted to try to ruling Equestria again, he didn't fully understand it, but that wasn't why he was here. He wasn't in love with a horse-princess who turned a woman. He was in love with his wife, who just so happened to have been turned into a horse.

"Gareth." Concern changed to caution. "What is your answer?"

"I get it now," Gareth said. He slowly pushed off the window, glass cracking as he did so. Chances for escape were slim, but he would not surrender.

"Get what?"

"My answer is 'no'," Gareth said, flicking down the visor. "I don't know what's in Cecilia's head. I don't think she really does either. Maybe she'll stick around and rule, maybe she'll leave forever. Maybe... maybe she'll even leave me, one day. That's her choice, not mine. I'll follow her to hell and back."

Larm's muzzle twisted into a snarl. "You're an idiot."

"Really?" Gareth said. "Because you're doing the exact same thing, Larms. You follow Celestia, and I follow Cecilia. But do you want to know the difference between them? Every day, every, single, day, Cecilia thought about Equestria. I could see it in the way she spoke, walked, and thought. Princess Celestia gave up, and Cecilia hasn't. So, how about you stop trying to follow the orders of a monarch that abandoned you, and start following one that hasn't?"

A shadow passed over Larm's eyes.

The hairs on the back of Gareth's neck stood up. He reached for his dagger.

A blur of motion replaced Larms as he rushed forward. The blur turned in place, hind legs kicked up into Gareth's stomach.

Pain shattered through Gareth's chest. Air, blood and spittle splattered over the inside of his visor. By the time he realised his feet weren't touching the ground, his back smashed into glass. He was tumbling, falling.

At first, he could see stone, then blurring crystals. It was all moving so fast. His clothes flapped in the wind. Then the crash came.

Jagged crystals stabbed into his back, shattering metal ringlets and dragging up along his spine. His legs contacted crystal, twisting him into a roll. Clattering metal filled the air as he rolled to a halt on the edge of a crystalline outcrop.

It was quiet now. Everything felt distant… laying there spread-eagled, covered under a veil of deceptive warmth, like a freshly broken bone. Gareth tried to move, but his limbs simply wouldn’t listen. He needed to move, he needed to warn Cecilia. He needed to… n-needed to…

Slowly, the pale blue crystals faded from view.

The Pegasus-express chariot touched down onto the moonlit landing balcony with a muffled thud. A group of servants rushed forward, unhooking the exhausted pega-guards before ushering Celestia and the Colonel into the halls. Within moments, a new group of pega-guards joined with up and begun escorting them to the Throne room.

It's the middle of the night, why are they so active? Celestia glanced at the steely-faced guards next to her. There was little to do but follow along for now.

The light of the moon tinged everything, everything familiar felt strange; the glint off the Royal Guard's armour; the red of the carpets; gold candleholders that stained grey, revealing its true hue only under torchlight. Even the doors of the Throne room, a sight burnt into her memory, felt wrong. Only after a moment did she realise that there were no guards standing at attention.

Was this even her Canterlot anymore?

"Ma'am?" The Colonel ventured. "Are you sure?"

"Colonel?"

He pursed his brows. "Ma'am, the repercussions of your dream journey… you know this could well be a trap."

"Yes… it could be," Celestia sadly admitted. The flashes of the dream kept coming back. Every time she pushed back the idea of her abandoning Equestria, it just came back stronger.

The Colonel looked her over with calculating eyes. "Ma'am, I don't care what you think you saw, but I want you to know, that I am with you. You don't have anything to prove to those cowardly jackals. We pegasi have always stood by your side." He gestured to the Royal Guard escorting her. "Not a single pega-guard were among the traitors, doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I am grateful to every Guard that did their duty, Colonel." That was the truth.

"Princess Celestia, you know that they wish you harm!" With an instructive swish of the Colonel's wing, the group moved into a defensive formation. "Please, let us evacuate you to Cloudsdale! We can find the Prince-Consort, rescue what ponies we can find, take stock, plan and then come up with a new strategy. But walking into that throne room is political suicide!"

A cowardly part of Celestia agreed with him. Cloudsdale was safe; many of her Guards were either trained or raised there. Running seemed like the smart idea, but…

"Princess, please!" The Colonel urged with earnest emotion. "We cannot lose you!"

That was the point, wasn't it? All of Equestria seemed to hinge on her. "Colonel, I have dedicated my life to Equestria's well-being. If Canterlot has decided that it does not need me anymore… that is their right. And IF that is true, then I want them to look me in the eye as they denounce me. They owe me that much."

"So your mind is set…" the Colonel looked to his men, nodding. With hardly a word, they dispersed, galloping down the halls to parts unknown.

Her heart skipped a beat. She stepped back, watching their retreat. "Colonel?"

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry, Ma'am. Fool plan or not, I, and all the other pegasai are by your side."

Warmth welled up in Celestia's chest. She looked up to the Throne room doors, inhaling deeply. Focusing inwards, golden light accumulated upon her horn and pressed the doors open.

Creaking, groaning metal gave way to a thunderous murmur of over a thousand noble mares and stallions. The Throne room was dark; there wasn't a single Royal Guard to be seen. Only the wall-mounted torches and a shaft of moonlight illuminated the sea of writhing, muted colours. They watched hawkishly as they approached, gossiping when they were far, silencing when they came close.

Their eyes felt like pins and needles. Celestia clamped her eyes on the throne, schooling her features, silencing her heart.

A royal servant mare stepped out from the shadows, bowing respectfully before her.

Where is Gleaming? The thought quickly lead to far more dreadful ones. Reaching the foot of her throne, she turned and sat, trying to avoid the horde's gaze.

The Colonel, who had been carefully walking behind her, ushered the servant out of the way, ignoring her scandalised expression. He turned to the crowd, standing proud and declaring, "Her royal highness, Princess Celestia is in attendance."

The Throne room exploded into an uproar of accusations.