Princess Celestia had many names, too varied to count, much less remember. One, though, she held above all the others, and it always brought a smile to her face.

Daybreaker.

The Griffins would whisper it whenever she passed, proud eyes struggling to match her gaze. The nameless rebellion had lasted for barely a week before Celestia had appeared on the battlefield, and it was there that she broke their armies and razed their cities to the ground. Even now, nearly a thousand years later, her presence made even the sternest of their kind flinch at the sound of her name.

They had called Daybreaker, ender of wars.

That wasn't why Celestia smiled at the name.

The castle staff had passed stories down from generation to generation, of one of Celestia's only lovers. She was tall, though next to her wife, she had been barely sapling against a sequoia. She had never been much for the limelight, and her name was only mentioned in passing in the history books, but among the staff, they kept her name alive and well, including the rather wonderful nickname she had gained for herself.

Daybreaker, ender of heats.

When an Asari Matriarch informed Celestia that the Republic had named their newest dreadnought the "Daybreaker," she spent the next decade wondering why the Empress had to recuse herself from the room.