“Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me, and be my friend.”

-Albert Camus, French Author

Again, the sounds of celebration crept in from the balcony window. It had taken months, but the castle’s repairs were finally complete. Ponies needed no second bidding to launch into song and parade.

Celestia frowned at the mirror, running a comb through her vibrant mane. Its grey hue had departed, leaving her pinks and greens as bright as ever. The castle, the mane... everything was back to normal.

But it wasn’t.

She sighed, closing her eyes. These few months had taken years. Every day had needled her to no end, pressing her once-endless patience to its limits. Irritation flared within her at every minister and courtier, her heart caring nothing for their petty concerns. The old aches loomed larger than ever in her mind, stretching the minutes of each painful meeting.

Even the calm, impersonal paperwork brought none of the contentment that fueled her these many years. It became a chore; a dull, frustrating burden that plagued her through the days.

Celestia had changed. The reason was obvious, though she tried not to see it. She ignored it, she pressed it to the back of her mind. She drowned herself in the hateful work, determined to remain too busy to ponder the looming truth.

The labor got her through the days. But one night, not even a week after the battle, her thoughts carried her to the damning seed of the matter.

I hate this.

She did not – dared not – think too hard of it. She wondered if it was even true. After all, not long ago she drew great satisfaction from her work. It brought a sedate pleasure, cushioning its discomforts with the knowledge of what she meant to the ponies. Princess Celestia – great, golden, and endless.

Celestia shook her head, blinking her eyes back open.

“Endless.” That was the rub. She was Equestria’s endless, ageless warden, and it felt so unfair.

“Deal with it,” she growled to the mirror, trying to chase the thoughts away. This was a petty emotion. It would pass.

But perhaps not. The feelings had grown strong enough to bleed to the outside. Ministers cut their presentations short, sensing her foul mood. She even snapped at Prince Blueblood yesterday, breaking a centuries-long tradition of holding her temper.

“You don’t hold it with us,” Rooke noted, perched on the chair behind. The black mare toyed with Greyfeather’s old statue, brushing plaster crumbs to the carpet.

“You don’t count,” Celestia shot back.

Rooke gave a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, have fun at the party.”

Celestia grimaced at the reminder, closing the door as she left.

The party. Less than an hour after she snapped at the young prince, Luna had approached her with the request.

“We’re having a little get-together tomorrow,” the younger sister said. “Just me, Twilight, and her friends. Please come.”

Surprising even herself, Celestia seized it as a chance to avoid the public celebrations. “Should I bring anything special?”

“No.” But Luna paused after the words, and shook her head. “Well, yes. The doors will be closed, and no one’s eyes will be on us. I want you to be yourself.”

The words caught Celestia’s attention, as did Luna’s gaze. “No fake smiles or laughs. No masks. Just be yourself.”

And now, Celestia stopped in the parlor, wrestling with the words. Just be yourself.

Just be Celestia.

She could hardly claim innocence of Luna’s implication. “Princess Celestia” was a tired old mask. A mare she could never be. If anything, she was falling further from it with each passing day.

Luna did not want Princess Celestia at the party. She wanted Tia, the mare beneath it all.

But who is that? Celestia had no idea. She paced within the cramped parlor, shaking her head, huffing at the puzzle. “Celestia. Not ‘Princess,’ just Celestia.”

“No such thing,” she blurted, growling. “A riddle without an answer.”

Celestia swung her head, glum logic overtaking the anger. “Not true. She’s… this, isn’t she?”

“No!” she snapped, jerking to pace in the other direction. “Not this madmare, this weakling! Not this, not…”

A lost argument, and she knew it. The tension left her in a harsh sigh, and the pacing stopped.

The next moment, she left the parlor. There was nothing else for it. At least, she could prove herself strong enough to keep her word. To shun the party now would be one more confession of weakness, and there had been too many already.

Celestia had lost much. But she remained proud, and there was strength in that.

A little punch. A Germane pastry. Celestia took her snack to the corner and began to nibble.

The others were in two groups – Luna, Twilight, and the blue pegasus conversed by the dessert tray, while Twilight’s other friends chatted in the room’s center. Voices were soft, and what snatches Celestia heard were of harmless gossip. It was quiet enough that each bite of the crispy pastries was announced to the room.

The low volume was surprising, and Celestia found it suspicious. Twilight’s friends were not quiet ponies, least of all at a party. And they all kept stealing glances, their eyes darting to and away from Celestia.

Her own gaze fell to Luna, and it narrowed.

What did you tell them? It was hard enough knowing Luna saw past the mask, that she knew or guessed much of the truth. If she told these strangers about the bedroom confession, or the broken mirror….

Enough of that. Celestia chided herself before the thoughts could grow bitter. Would you rather have the pink one screaming in your ear, or Twilight clinging to your flank? Besides, perhaps she told them nothing, and they just see you for what you really are.

She could only guess at the truth of the matter. Celestia had been wordless but for a brief greeting, her face set in a dull frown. It felt like cheating – Luna asked her to be herself, yet she stood mute and distant. The spirit of the request seemed to demand she step forth. To talk with the ponies and listen to them, so that the real Celestia might be shown.

But she did not want to. In fact, as Twilight’s group inched a step closer, Celestia slid further away.

I don’t want to talk. A short-lived smile came to her face. You asked for the real Tia, here she is.

“Nah.” A snap sounded next to her as Nightmare Moon appeared, biting into one of the pastries. It swallowed and grinned, nudging Celestia with an elbow. “Start screaming at me, that’ll show them.”

Celestia hissed as through struck and shied away. She knew she was vulnerable. This was hard enough without the ghosts, and if anypony noticed her talking to them…

“Not now,” Celestia closed her eyes and breathed sharply, panic rising. “Please?”

The other mare barked a laugh. Celestia winced, but of course none of the others heard.

“What?” the Nightmare sneered. “I’m just trying to keep you on the straight and narrow. You’re breaking the one rule, you know. Be yourself. Go be the madmare we all know you are!”

She stepped in front of Celestia. The princess turned her gaze away, drawing another laugh. “Come on! Throw a punch at me. You know you want to. Pound Rooke into the carpet. Sombra too, if you’re feeling nostalgic. And if these peasants try to make something of it, who cares? They're mayflies. Short-lived little prissy, whiny ponies who’ll be gone soon enough anyway.”

“Stop that,” Celestia whispered, hiding it behind the shakily-held punch glass. She tried to give a regal sniff, but the air came back wetly. Unconsciously, her hoof rose to her mouth, and she began to nibble.

“Well excuse me, Miss ‘Real’ Celestia.” Nightmare Moon continued, leaning back into her vision. “Quit stalling, give them the real you! It won’t even come as shock, thanks to Luna. You know she told them everything.”

“I don’t know that,” Celestia countered, forcing her hoof down. She turned her head to fully face the wall, refusing to even look at the Nightmare. “And Luna can’t tell them everything. She doesn’t even know about you all.”

“But she knows the worst part.” Nightmare Moon appeared on the wall, matching eyes with Celestia. The white princess recoiled, grimacing as her nemesis went on.

“You know it, too. You missed your chance, and now you’re stuck.”

“Stop,” Celestia whispered again, breathless. She swallowed hard, clinging to what discipline remained. “Please stop.”

But Nightmare Moon only spoke faster, her voice twisting from mockery to bitterness. “What, you’ll admit it to Luna, but not yourself?”

One last defense. “You don’t speak for me,” Celestia said. And she was done. A sob had grown in her throat, too large to work any words around. Nightmare Moon would have her way.

The dark mare laughed again, harsh and angry. “Oh, don’t I? Come on, I’ve been right about everything. A thousand years from now I’ll still be right, because–”

“Excuse me?”

A quiet voice broke through the words, unknowingly interrupting. Celestia blinked, startled, and Nightmare Moon vanished.

A turn of her head revealed the speaker – one of Twilight’s friends, the white unicorn. Smiling shyly. A beautiful mare, mangled by the battle. Magic had healed the worst of her injuries, though it left her face lopsided and gaunt. Her days of fashion-model prettiness were over.

Yet somehow, a chord was struck in the battered princess. It was the smile – so like and unlike her own. For one bare second, it took hold of her. Calm and gentle, serene as a cloudless night… and so real. Not practiced and manufactured, but the shy effort of an amateur. Of a pony not sure if this was proper, but certain that it was right.

Celestia stared dumbly at that smile, choking down the fresh tears it threatened to pull out of her. She was so close to breaking...

She rallied. The spell ended. Celestia put on her own smile, too late to matter. Tear-stains told what the lips would not.

“Yes?” she replied.

“May I hug you?”

The strange request gave Celestia pause, and the young mare softly clarified. “You seem to need one.”

Celestia flushed, shame flooding her thoughts. She must look pathetic, to evoke such pity from this broke-faced girl.

The others… she saw their eyes turned away, but surely they knew. Her whispering, her weeping. They had to know the truth by now.

Old. Weak.

Madmare.

She shivered, lowering her head.

And warmth met her nose, scented of lilac perfume. The girl had taken silence as an assent, sliding her neck under Celestia’s. A pair of dainty white hooves rose and wrapped around her, sliding through the ethereal mane to clasp at her shoulders.

Celestia trembled in silence – a crumbling mountain, but a mountain still. She would not break down, no matter how much her heart screamed for it. Not here, in front of strange ponies. They saw her fail, they saw the mask of perfection slip… but they would not, must not, see her collapse.

She leaned inwards, pressing her nose to the purple mane. It was strange, being hugged like this. Not like Luna’s hug when she came back, full of enthusiasm and misplaced joy. This was a gentle, quiet thing. A gift.

They stood there for one moment, but not two. Only long enough for Celestia to calm her breathing, and rub the silent tears off on the perfumed mane.

When she raised her eyes, Celestia fixed them to the doorway. “Thank you,” she whispered, not moving her gaze. She broke the hug, lifting her head high so as to look completely past the young mare. She dared not take the chance that a twitch or blink might cause their eyes to meet.

On soft hooves, Celestia brushed past the pony and walked slowly to the door. She focused, trying to blot out the shapes moving on the edge of her vision.

Escape. It was an instinct, born of pride more than anything. The knowledge that she was close, so painfully close to falling apart in front of them.

That, she would not allow. Not while the barest ounce of willpower remained.

A gold-shod hoof pushed open the door. Celestia prayed for the others’ silence, for their eyes to avert. This was disgraceful. Un-Celestia. But there was no choice – if she stayed, she would become even more so. One sympathetic glance, one word of kindness, and she might give in.

She knew they wouldn’t mind. They would accept her if she shared her pains with them: her exhaustion and bitterness, her shrinking endurance and looming ghosts. They would embrace her as she wept, and try to find ways to help her. They would tell her it was alright to cry, to open herself to them.

They would be wrong. It was not alright.

The silence held as she closed the door behind her.

Passing to the halls brought a return to volume, though it was a thousand times easier. Ponies in fine clothes courted her attention or passed messages, flying to and from like bees around their hive. She smiled and conversed easily, feeling none of her new-found impatience. This was normal. Safe. No ponies trying to hug her, trying to draw out what lay within.

She was Princess Celestia, and they were her ponies. All was as it should be.

Early afternoon was the busiest time of the day. Celestia threw herself into the work, determined to press on into the evening. Luna would come the moment she retired, and that was a thing to be put off as long as possible.

Almost midnight. As late as Celestia dared labor, knowing her tasks tomorrow would demand at least a little sleep.

Luna was waiting when she came to the parlor. The night princess greeted her with a nod, accompanied by a reproving frown.

“I did what you asked,” Celestia blurted as their eyes met. Only afterwards did she remember to close the hallway door.

The blue-eyed glare softened as she continued, speaking the defense she’d been rehearsing all day. “You asked me to be myself. ‘Myself’ wanted to leave.”

“That’s not why I’m upset,” Luna said quickly, raising a hoof in peace. The aggressive frown was gone, replaced by a sympathetic one. “It’s because you hid from me afterwards.”

“I was working.”

“You know what I meant,” Luna parried, disarming the excuse.

“Fine.” Celestia said it with a sigh. She stepped over and opened the door to her bedroom, already shrugging out of her necklace. “I’m sorry for how I acted back there.”

Luna followed her in, walking quickly to keep sight of her sister’s face. “Don’t be.”

“I killed the mood, didn’t I?” Celestia gave a wan smile, ignoring the correction. “It’ll be different next time.”

“No!”

The sharp volume gave Celestia a start. She turned to Luna, and found the other mare had stepped in close.

There was fear in Luna’s eyes that Celestia did not understand. Luna gripped her with both forehooves, balancing on her rear legs. The younger sister leaned in, and with nowhere to go, Celestia had no choice but to meet her gaze.

Luna fell into silence after the outburst, leaving Celestia to respond. “Luna, nopony wanted to see that.”

“I did.” The moment of fear was past, and Luna returned to calm. She released the grip and let her hooves fall to the floor.

“You wanted to see me cry?” Celestia asked, more coldly than she intended.

“I wanted to see you.”

A meek, kindly grin came to Luna’s face. In the lamplight, Celestia could see dampness gathered in her eyes.

“My sister is gloomy.” A tiny laugh came out from Luna, holding more sadness than joy. “She’s shy, in her own way. She’s had a hard life, and that makes her want to push others away.”

“She has demons.”

Celestia looked away, letting Luna go on without interruption. “And she’s tired…”

Luna hesitated, then finished the thought in a strangled voice. “…Of everything.”

Celestia turned even further, unwilling to show the weakness coming to her face. Even now. Her eyes went to the balcony window, fixing themselves on the moon beyond.

Tired of everything.

“I did not want to come back.” Her words, right after the battle. Her beaten confession. They were true.

Still true.

“That,” Luna said, her head sinking. “Is my sister. And I love her.”

For a time, nothing more was said. Celestia stared out the window, and Luna looked to the floor.

She knows. The thought hit Celestia, and she grimaced. Luna guesses or knows everything.

But is that bad? A swallow worked its way down her throat as the strange notion came. We used to share everything. Why did we stop?

The reason was obvious, but worn and rotten. Nightmare Moon. Yet this was Luna, and the difference between them was great. Luna, as tender with her as always. A loving, loyal sister.

No, Nightmare Moon was a hollow excuse. So were the thousand years. Both things had yanked them apart, but no sooner did Luna return than she tried to be a sister again.

Celestia’s reflection looked back from the darkened window. A mirror-image of the real reason they lost each other.

Even now, the old feelings screamed at her – pride, instinct, and cold love for routine. Stale ideas that were so certain, so etched in stone that they still had power over her. Let no one close, and you won’t be hurt. Rule alone, and the ponies will be ruled well.

The old truths. Reality had met and slain them.

“Alone” kept her safe. But alone, she would have fallen before Absalom, and the world would have ended in madness and sorrow.

Alone, her rule shook from within by the hoof of its own bitterness. Solitude was her enemy now. Her thoughts were too noisy. She had tried to go on alone, as before, and was faltering.

But the alternative…

A grim smile crept to Celestia’s face.

A paradox. An unwinnable paradox. Almost funny, in a way.

She hated being alone. More than that, she hated the company of others. Not the ministers and bureaucrats who buzzed around her all day, but Luna, Twilight, and the rest she left at the party.

They were the closest Celestia had to real friends. They saw the cracks in the mask, and accepted her all the same. She was safe with them. If she told her story, they would listen. If she cried, they would embrace her.

But she did not want to tell her story. She did not want to cry for their sympathy. Their kindness drew out the weakness in her, and it felt awful. Humiliating.

Perhaps it was pride, or a piece of the mask she refused to let go. Either way, it was true as the dawn. I do not want to “open up.” I do not want other ponies in my life.

Celestia cannot live alone, and Celestia cannot live with others. An unwinnable paradox. Discord would be proud.

She spoke, breaking the silence. “I did not want to end up like this.”

Her gaze fixed outside, Celestia went on quietly. “I feel like I’ve sold my whole life and have nothing to show. Like I should’ve gotten something by now.”

Selfish. Does it really boil down to this petty bitterness?

The thought deepened her frown. “I’ll push it down. I’ll be fine.”

She was done. There was nothing else to say. Silence came again, thick enough to keep them apart. Celestia eyed her darkened reflection, her thoughts whirling too quickly to grasp. The past. The future. The doomed paradox.

Hooves padded softly on the carpet as Luna stepped away. Out of the corner of an eye, Celestia saw her walk to the other side of the room. Luna stared at something for a moment, lost in her own musings.

A long enough time passed that Celestia forgot about her. Her eyes returned to the moon, and only swept back when Luna gave a pregnant cough.

Turning to her sister, Celestia saw that Luna had returned to her side. A book floated in her magic’s grip: a thick, brown-covered tome, uncreatively titled “Modern Finance.”

“I want to borrow this,” Luna said, with more gravity than the situation seemed to require.

Out of habit, Celestia’s face snapped into its gentle smile. “That’s a very dull choice.”

“I want to learn.” Luna’s voice was intense, promising an argument if one was offered. Her face matched, looking to her sister with grave certainty. “Money. Politics. Law. Not just the facts, but the function. How you make it all work.”

“That’s too much,” Celestia said.

Luna countered in an instant. “Not for me. I can take five, ten, or however many years to study.”

Celestia’s mouth opened, uttering its practiced little laugh. “Are you trying to take my job?”

“Yes.”

That killed the shallow humor. Her face dropped, growing quizzical as Luna went on. “Because…”

A raw glint of horror came to Celestia’s face, and Luna hesitated. The last old lie laid before them. The strongest. Maybe it was too soon. But here they stood, and there was nothing to do except press on.

“You can’t keep this up forever.”

Truth. A truth they both knew, but Celestia had never dared acknowledge. It was unthinkable. Maddening. After all her labor, all her loss… an end? A defeated, bitter end?

At once, she began to tremble. Her legs, then her whole body shook in violent, wordless spasms. Her lips pulled back, contorting her face in a strangled grimace.

The shaking grew hard enough to chatter her teeth. Luna reached a hoof, worried, but Celestia stumbled away from it. She sat down hard on the floor, facing away.

As the convulsions went on, Luna again tried to touch her. Celestia saw the movement in the corner of her eye and jerked her head to look back.

She hissed, hatred consuming every inch of her face.

Luna recoiled. Celestia’s eyes softened immediately, her expression becoming pained and sorrowful.

“I know,” she whispered. She turned away, her trembling replaced with stillness.

“Tia. Let me hug you.”

“No.” Celestia shook her head. She twisted her neck to face Luna again, now smiling weakly. “Thank you. But I want to be alone.”

Luna paused a moment, uncertain. It felt wrong to leave her sister like this. But it felt wrong to dismiss her wishes, too.

A compromise struck her mind, and Luna nodded. “I will leave. But I will sleep in your parlor, and I will check up on you later.”

It was not a request, but a statement. The balance between them had changed. Luna retired to the parlor couch, leaving the door between them open. And she only left once Celestia had crawled into bed, and allowed Luna to tuck the sheets in over her wings.

It took a long time for Celestia to go to sleep. Two hours and fourteen minutes. Luna counted every second, her eyes fixed on the parlor clock.

When she heard soft snores coming from the other room, Luna shut her eyes tight and left her body. The in-between space was crossed in an instant, and she came to her sister’s dreams.

Luna tarried a moment when she reached the dream-sky, questioning herself. Was she needed here? Did she really have to break her old promise again?

Perhaps not. The elder’s mind was no longer a puzzle. Luna knew the truth of things, and now, so did Celestia. This felt like an intrusion, coming again to this private place after finally getting her sister to open up.

But Luna was here with purpose, and it nerved her as she approached the dream-ground. Things were not yet complete between them. Celestia had faced the truth, yes, but she faced it alone. That would not do.

The light grew strong beneath her. Luna braced herself, knowing the terrible machine rested below. Yet as the last few seconds passed, she wondered if it would really be the same. Tia had changed, and somehow Luna doubted the machine was unaffected.

She squinted as she came to the ground, again struck by the stark whiteness of the place.

When she opened her eyes, Luna saw that her guess had been right. The machine was dead.

The plaster was crushed, as though a thousand hammers had worked it over. Wires hung limply from the ceiling. Steam vents burbled instead of whistled, leaking water onto the twisted, motionless gears.

Before her, the plaster mountain was a smoking ruin. The Celestia-head was gone. Only its neck remained – a crushed white shell around rusted gears, immobile and silent.

Luna looked down, seeing fragments of the jaw and forehead. No sign remained of its strange black eyes.

She released a breath she did not know she was holding. That head, those eyes… gone. They were not Celestia, not the Cor Cordis. That was good, though it raised a new question.

Where is she?

As if by strange design, one of the holes in the mountain stood taller than Luna. Rather than spilling out gears and oil, this one formed a tunnel into the gloom.

An invitation, if an unspoken one. Luna stepped inwards, past the plaster shell. Sight escaped her in the surrounding darkness, but her hooves echoed loudly. The great mountain was hollow.

Three paces inside, she heard voices. Senseless murmurings at first, bouncing through the empty air. Many of them, talking over and around each other. Some guttural and loud, others high and feminine.

One voice somehow combined both, and it stopped Luna in her tracks. Its words were indistinct, echoed alongside the others. But she knew it well. She could never forget.

Nightmare Moon.

Luna broke into a gallop.

The volume grew deafening as she drew deeper inside. No voice was shouting, but many were speaking, and the echoes rebounded across every word. Luna called out for Celestia, but all that did was add to the cacophony.

Shapes came alive in the darkness, bringing Luna to forgo all discretion. Her horn blazed alight, casting the place in a pale glow.

A mob crowded in the room’s center, dozens strong. Familiar faces jostled with strangers, all facing inwards and talking at once. Star Swirl pressed against a black, bespectacled mare. A filly with swollen, brackish veins stood on Sombra’s back, and he leaned his head forward to talk past a grey-feathered griffon.

Celestia stood in the crowd, though a single glance showed that it was not the one Luna sought. It was a pony of chipped plaster, with a golden halo around her head. She added her own voice to the din, spewing dust onto a blue demon’s robes as her mouth broke itself apart in speaking.

There were other Lunas, too. A bitter-faced adolescent, a grim mare of the present, and–

Luna pounced on the last one. She gripped Nightmare Moon and threw her back from the crowd. The black mare yelped and made to rise, but Luna slammed a hoof down on her chest.

“Why are you here?” Luna snarled. Her hoof glowed with blue power, ready to kill.

Pinned, Nightmare Moon gazed back for a second as though startled. And then she smiled – a sad little thing that looked strange on her face.

“Because otherwise, she’d be alone.”

The gentleness only incensed Luna’s anger. She pressed the hoof down harder, leaning in close with a growl. “Lies. She has me.”

“Oh, really?” The dark mare laughed, harsh and bitter. “Little late for that, sis.”

“I’m here now,” Luna shot back. “And I’m not your ‘sis.’ You are not real.”

Nightmare Moon glared up fearlessly, her words an angry hiss. “We’re as real as you are.”

“No, you are not.”

The hoof glowed brightly as Luna ended the conversation. No pity, for there was nothing here to pity. She knew the nature of this mare from the moment they touched – a dream, and nothing more. Luna gave her magic purpose and the nightmare disintegrated in a puff of thought.

Now standing in its place, Luna could see over the smaller ponies. There was Celestia, the real one – lying on her side atop a pedestal too narrow to hold her. White hooves and grey mane spilled off of it, slumping to the ground. Her head curled inwards to rest on the gilded platform, with the left foreleg hiding her face. The body convulsed in sobs, emitting wet gasps and hiccups from the broken princess.

Luna stopped, deaf to the noise.

Cor Cordis. Here it was.

Even at her worst, even as low as she fell, Celestia never wept so openly. She never so surrendered to the pain. She dodged, she grew defensive, she even cried just a little bit when nothing else would do.

But even then, her guard was up. Those few tears were leaks, swiftly plugged. Discipline and pride worked in tandem, carefully hiding the cracks as best as they could.

Here, though, there was no hiding. There was just Celestia and Luna.

And the noise. This close, Luna felt it physically as her awareness returned. A hundred voices, all towards her sister. Twisting around each other in jumbled sentences, yet now the words could be understood.

Clarity brought no comfort. Luna paused a final moment, her eyes closed. She listened – that much, she could do. She would never fully understand what happened to her sister, but she could try. She listened hard, trying to find sense as the many words and voices flowed together in maddened song.

“It’s not about you It’s okay to love You killed your sister Duty Love I condemn thee sinner Did Sombra love me You tried to save them Things were fine until Luna came back You know Rooke loved you One chance and blew it Porcelain perfect I pity you Madmare I don’t want to die I hate ponies You can’t keep this up forever It’s not okay to love You have to be perfect Do you want to play a chess game Princess Celestia Rule forever You don’t get to die Useless peacock Don’t be selfish–”

Enough.

Luna knew they were just dreams. Memories and visions scrambled together within her sister’s tattered soul. They were not to blame, and she well-knew their destruction would be symbolic at best. There was no easy cure.

Even so, Luna’s eyes glowed white, and her voice cried, “Be gone!”

Merely a symbol. But let the symbol be made!

A wave of blue magic flared out from her horn. It passed through the crowd without resistance, bringing each one of them to nothingness. No screams, no blood, just a hundred ponies that were no longer there.

The abrupt silence seemed to echo of its own power, ringing in Luna’s ears. Her eyes refocused, blinked, and turned back to her sister.

Celestia’s head was raised now, turned to Luna in meek surprise. No longer sobbing, but making no effort to hide the tears upon her face. Her throat bobbed, perhaps in fear, and a movement beneath her drew both their eyes downwards.

Luna grimaced – she missed one. One of Celestia’s dangling legs rested on a green crystal pony. A weathered mare with a tattooed face, whispering soothingly as Celestia stroked her mane.

Blue magic glowed, then shot off as a beam. Crisply, efficiently, Luna dispatched the leftover.

Her attention downwards, she only saw the white hoof move. Celestia’s leg rose, braced against the platform, and pushed off.

Luna did not realize it until it was done – Celestia launched herself, pouncing upon the night princess. The two collapsed to the ground, and Luna cried out as a bruised pain shot up from her cheek.

Celestia punched her.

The shocked realization slowed Luna, and the older sister quickly wrestled her to the ground.

“What did you do to her!?” Celestia roared, voice shrill with anger.

“There is no ‘her!’” Luna shouted back, hoping to death her sister would see it. “There’s just you!”

Luna braced, steeling herself for a fight. What if Celestia denied it?

“We’re as real as you are.” Nightmare Moon’s words. What if they rang true? What if that crystal mare was as real to Celestia as her own, flesh-and-blood sister? If Tia was so far gone that she couldn’t tell dream from truth, how could she possibly be helped?

For one, stark second, terror gripped Luna’s heart. A fear, a hatefully possible fear that it was all in vain. That Luna was a thousand years too late to save her sister.

The second passed. Tia’s face softened from its instinctive rage.

“I know,” she said quietly, for the second time tonight. She rolled out of the grapple, turning to lie on her side.

Luna brought herself upright, but did not stand. Legs curled on the ground, she looked to her sister.

Cor Cordis. A simple pony, just as it always was. Perhaps a little more worn and weathered than the real Celestia, but the only notable difference seemed the grey hair.

Luna watched the mare watch the wall. Even here, behind all the masks, Tia was silent. Distant.

Celestia sighed, dropping her head to the floor.

Tired. She was tired.

“Please,” Luna asked, croaking it around a sob. “Please let me hug you.”

Celestia raised her head only a few inches, her dark eyes meeting Luna’s. She licked her lips, glancing away.

Luna swallowed hard and tried again. “Tia… I want to help you so much. With some of it, I know how. Like the work. And being there for you. But will that cure you of all this? I don’t know. I don’t think so. This is you, now. And this...”

She gestured to herself. “Is me. I spent so much time wanting to pick up where we left off, but I think that was all wrong. Those days are gone. We can’t be children again.”

Luna shuddered, guilt gripping her. I’m here to give comfort! Not unburden my own problems.

But she went on, quietly reasoning with both herself and Celestia. “We’ve both been pretending. Me, that everything will go back to the way it was. And you, that you don’t need help. We need to stop. You need to stop, before you lose everything that’s left.”

Celestia gave a cold, hard laugh. “What is left?”

“You are.”

Luna’s eyes never left her sister. Tia fell silent, teeth biting hard on her lip. Her eyes returned to Luna’s, watching with tired attention.

“I know you don’t want help.” Luna smiled weakly with the words. “But you need it. So please. Please…”

She raised a hoof, her eyes tearing as Celestia flinched away. “Let me be your sister. I can’t take away your demons. I can’t make you not sick of the world. But I can hug you, I can be here for you, so please let me. Let me prove that you’re not alone. And… and maybe then, the rest will fall in to place. Maybe then it will get better.”

Celestia gasped at the last words, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She scrunched them closed…

And nodded. Only once, but that was all it took.

Two steps across the plaster floor brought Luna next to her sister. She sat down and wrapped her hooves around the long white neck. Slowly, she eased it upwards until the head rested on her shoulder.

The neck was so slim in her grasp. It spasmed as Tia sobbed, coughing and weeping into her sister’s mane.

“I’m sorry!” Celestia bawled, clutching Luna with all her might. “I tried so hard.”

“Shush, you.” Luna smiled through her own tears, stroking the faded mane. “It’ll be okay.”

“Will it!?” Tia gripped her sister even tighter. “Luna, I can’t share power. Not now, after so long. I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m–”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem.” Luna cut in, sternly and gently. “We’ll think about that tomorrow.”

Tia’s grip trembled. “Tomorrow… will I remember this tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Luna nodded, rubbing Tia’s back. “You might be angry at me for coming here, but that’s okay.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Celestia shuddered again. “Just… just stay.”

“Of course,” Luna said. She squeezed her sister more tightly, pressing herself into the tired old neck.

After a moment, her wings unfurled and joined the embrace. “We really screwed things up, didn't we? My poor, dear sister...”

Hours passed, and neither moved. Neither spoke, nor did they cry anymore. They just laid there until the dawn came, bringing a new day before them.

Author's Notes:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gi1wIiWxMJI

If I could somehow make Wayward Sun into a movie, this would be the exact song Luna would sing for this scene. Every verse is just perfect for it. Lyrics on the youtube page.

"I'll be around
When there's no reason left to carry on
And every dream you've ever had is gone
And the dark is deep and black without a sound
And every star has been dragged to the ground
Know at that moment, I will be around..."