“No matter how far you have gone along the wrong road… turn back.”

-Turkish Proverb

“Today’s the day.”

Celestia’s words were casual, belying the enormity behind them. They were in the parlor, her and Luna. Celestia at her desk, Luna sprawled on one of the sofas with a thick tome before her.

“Mhm,” Luna hummed, her eyes not leaving the pages. A half-eaten scone and cup of cold tea floated above her, held easily in the same blue magic that propped up the book.

A twinge of amusement worked its way into Celestia’s heart. Her mouth twitched as a piece of the scone fell to the floor and shattered, unnoticed by her sister. Luna lowered the treat to her mouth for another bite, never taking her gaze from the book. More crumbs flaked as she chewed, fully transforming Celestia’s twitch into a smile.

Something had clicked that night, now six weeks past. Not a large something, for the world went on as before. Luna studied, and Celestia labored. If anything, she had more work than ever as Luna’s tutoring was added to the pile.

Not a large something at all. Celestia remained distant and serious, for she was a distant and serious pony. One with a clinical mind, that had for centuries solved facts and problems with cool dispassion. With the denial stripped and the emotion digested, she could face this last problem the same way.

Her patience, even her ability to care for her work were fading. The ghosts haunted her more often than ever, sometimes for hours on end.

She was losing.

She could not, in fact, keep it up forever. Not even for much longer.

It still disturbed her. Less so in the daytime, when her busy mind could dismiss it as just one more unfortunate fact of life.

But at night, it oppressed her with its damning finality. She would lay awake for long hours, shrinking into the bed and staring up with widened eyes. Much as she despised her own duties, they were all she knew. Ten centuries of dull certainty were coming to a crashing end, and the future terrified her.

Even in her fear, though, her cool mind knew the truth. Her reign was ending, and the only question was how it would pass. Celestia was yet proud – as proud as she was distant, and this time it worked to her favor. It would not end with her falling to madness and dragging the country with her. It would not end with her growing bitterness driving her to tyranny, or to callously abandon her duty.

It would be a calm, smooth transition. Even her pride called for it, for if the end must come, she must leave something behind. All her pain, all her sacrifice would be worthless if Equestria fell, and that must not become so.

Still smiling faintly, Celestia lit her horn. Small wisps of gold magic brushed the crumbs from her sister’s chest.

Luna. The answer to the problem, but so much more than just that. There was something about her now, something that Celestia could not identify.

Really, it was less anything Luna did, and more how Celestia saw it. Like now – she could only grin at Luna’s messiness. Illogical, senseless, but there it was. Celestia’s heart cooed in her chest, adoring the sight of her sister in lazy study.

Sister.

Perhaps, her rational mind wondered, this is a sister’s love. Not emerging as a pained scream for aid, as it did before. But the gentle, tender joy that love could provide. To not just give strength in the bad times, but to share and nurture the good.

She did not say it. She did not claim to love Luna, for she had long forgotten what love even meant. Could this feeling and that word truly be the same?

Celestia doubted it. Honestly, she didn’t think herself capable of the thing anymore. She found Luna’s quirks to be endearing, but that meant nothing. And she let Luna move into her room, and sometimes they shared a bed – those meant nothing, too. Nor could much weight be put on their late-night talks, or the uncertain, awkward laughter the young sister’s jokes could draw out from her. Most of the jests she had heard before, but they sounded so fresh from Luna’s mouth…

Perhaps this was love, after all. Celestia’s smile grew wry as she reluctantly took her gaze back to the desk. A new problem with the Griffon Commonwealth. The paperwork never ended.

Except… it would. She still wasn’t used to that.

Her mind kept drifting from the labor, always coming back to the same question. Love? Luna loved her, certainly. Even past those moments of desperate embrace, Luna loved her still.

Luna, who alone heard her stories across the many sleepless nights. The murder of Sombra’s army. The stillborn romance with Rooke. The long years believing Luna to be dead, and the frantic denial when that proved false.

Some things, Celestia did not share. The place beyond death, and the ghosts who haunted her… these were hers alone. Luna did not press for them. She listened when Celestia spoke, and asked for no more.

If it was indeed love Celestia felt for her sister, that was the reason. The unconditional acceptance Luna gave. No discussion was forced, no power pried from her grasp. Luna was trying to help her, not “fix” her. Everything – the coming reforms, the confessions, the shared room – all of these had Celestia’s consent.

Luna even asked permission to patrol her dreams, not that she needed it. An old trust had been reclaimed: Luna trusted her enough to ask, rather than simply act. And Celestia returned the trust, freely giving her permission.

The more Celestia thought about it, the more convinced she became. “I think I love you.”

She caught herself, not having intended to actually speak out the thought. She glanced back to Luna, but the night princess remained engrossed in her book.

A few minutes later, blue eyes turned to the grandfather clock. Luna coughed once, closing the tome. “Ten minutes. Are you ready?”

They both rose from their seats, Celestia giving a faint smile. “Yes. I believe this is necessary, and that makes it easier.”

“Good. I’ll be right there the whole time.” Side by side, they turned and made their way to the parlor door.

As Celestia raised her hoof to open it, she blinked and startled as a kiss brushed her cheek.

“I love you, too.” Luna winked at her, and settled a wing across Celestia’s back as they strode to the hallway.

A long, dull day passed in the new audience hall. Celestia’s replacement throne was cushier than her last, but the difference only aggravated her nerves. The fresh, white walls stung her eyes as well, though she knew that was nit-picking. Unwanted reminders of her failures – both before Absalom, and in her long quest for perfection. That it had been a doomed quest from the start did not lessen the sting.

Celestia’s announcement came at the day’s end. With the scheduled business concluded, she held the nobles and ministers five more minutes for a royal proclamation. As was her norm, she announced it without pomp or ceremony.

A brisk two paragraphs of speech. The first one officially designated Luna as her co-ruler and equal.

The second announced Celestia’s intent to abdicate the throne, leaving Equestria in her sister’s hooves. It would be done at some point five to ten years from now, when Luna’s tutoring was complete.

There was nothing else. The announcement done, Celestia left for her parlor, ignoring the shocked gazes and stuttering mouths behind her.

Though naïve in many ways, Celestia remained a masterful politician. The seemingly hasty, flippant declaration had in fact been planned to a tee. Declaring her intent now, years in advance, let ponies get used to the idea. They would pay close attention to Luna, and try to feel out her politics. This, in turn, would acclimate Luna to the unglamorous side of things – dealing with the money-grubbers, lobbyists, and bleeding hearts. Determining which ones brought good ideas to the table, and which of those good ideas were worth acting on.

Announcing it at the end of the day also gave ponies time in a more immediate sense. They would retire for the evening and digest the news, rather than clutter the afternoon with questions and protests. In the calm confines of their homes, they would consider the years-long timeframe and stand, if not content, then at least accepting. There would be time for protest later, if the coming ruler gave them cause for doubt.

Luna met Celestia in the parlor. She smiled, a soft and questioning one. “Are you sure?”

It was perhaps the twelfth time Luna had asked, and the answer remained, “Yes.”

Luna nodded, nervous but determined. When they first discussed this, she wanted a return to the old way. Two sisters, ruling side by side.

She was surprised when Celestia balked at the idea. They spent a long night discussing it, the older sister listing reason after reason why it would fail. Equestria – and indeed, any functional, modern government – needed a single ruler. Pressing reforms to accommodate the sisters would break a system centuries in the making. And even afterwards, no good would be accomplished. If the future brought a fresh quarrel between Luna and Celestia… the ponies would follow Celestia. It would ultimately be the same rule, with the added taint of hypocrisy.

Luna had accepted the words, but Celestia wasn’t finished. There was a last reason, one that she only shared after all the excuses and rationales had been spoken.

“I hate this.”

“Do you hate this, still?”

A year had passed since the announcement. Luna’s question broke the silence of their bedroom, dancing out across the moonlit space between the beds.

Celestia twisted in her sheets, glancing to the clock with a tired smile. Midnight. They’d lain motionless for hours, but Luna always seemed to sense when she couldn’t sleep. Hardly a surprise, given the night princess’ nature.

She paused a moment, tongue twisting on the words. Conversation still came hard for Celestia, but she did her best. At least, when Luna was involved.

“Are you scared to rule by yourself?”

“Answer my question first,” Luna said with the faintest laugh.

Celestia frowned, turning her eyes to the darkened ceiling. “I do.”

Luna said nothing. A moment passed, prompting Celestia to continue. “I’m sick of it. I hate this whole place, and every pony in it.”

She turned to look at Luna. “Does that mean I’m a bad pony?”

Luna gazed back, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “What do you think?”

Celestia groaned. “Don’t make me answer my own questions.”

Again, silence, and Celestia did it anyway. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m bad. I don’t wish them ill, I just want to leave it all behind.”

“Canterlot has many places where one might find solitude.” Luna’s response was casual, but Celestia sensed the bait within it. There was a question yet unanswered, of the fate of the older sister after her abdication. The past year had seen frequent, loaded comments out of Luna’s mouth, noting the benefits of staying close to home.

She would be disappointed. “I won’t stay in Canterlot, Luna.”

A sigh came from the other bed. “You have time to think about it.”

“I already have,” Celestia said, her voice firming. “I know it’s selfish, but I need this. I need to go.”

Luna opened her mouth, but Celestia interrupted. “Now hush. We’ve an early morning ahead of us.” She rolled pointedly to the wall, ignoring the worried, moonlit eyes still watching from the other bed.

“I can’t even begin to say how much I love being your student again!”

Twilight clopped her forehooves excitedly, beaming across the tea table. “I mean, I know Princess Luna kind of twisted your hoof to let me come. But I’m really grateful, and I hope you’ll host me tomorrow, too.”

“Of course.” Celestia’s voice was dull, her lips neutral as she sipped her tea. She did not dislike Twilight, but somehow the girl’s eccentricities remained less endearing than Luna’s.

At least Celestia restrained the fake, polite smile that tried to leap out. Old habits die hard, all the more because she still wore it on the throne. Luna had asked her to be more honest with Twilight, and Celestia did her best.

It was also Luna who brought Twilight to the classroom, though that she “twisted Celestia’s hoof” was patently untrue. Celestia didn’t approve of the young pony’s presence, but she had let the issue slide without debate.

To be honest… she didn’t care. The fact nestled sideways and uncomfortable in her mind, but it was true as the sun.

Nor was Twilight the only stranger being brought into the loop. Three years of lessons had given Luna confidence in laying her own plans. She envisioned a more plural government – the revival of old agencies and offices to assume powers now held by the crown. Luna had already conveyed some of her own lessons to ministers and agents in preparation for the change.

“Corruption,” Celestia had warned, disapproval thickening the words. “Bigotry. Greed. The ponies will disappoint you. Even when you find good ones, they’ll just die off in the end.”

Both socially awkward in their own way, the sisters could not help but be blunt with each other. Luna’s response had ended the talk. “That’s all true. Problems will arise from this.”

“But I can’t end up like you.”

“You know…”

Twilight’s words – far more subdued – brought Celestia back to the present. She blinked, seeing her student look back with nervous eyes.

“I mean,” Twilight stuttered, glancing away. “I’ll stop coming, if you really want me to.”

“It’s no trouble.” The white princess sighed, blowing gently across her tea.

“But do you want me there?”

“I do not mind.” A stern edge entered Celestia’s words. “I hope we can leave it at that.”

Twilight sighed, sensing the unfriendliness in her one-time mentor’s voice. Celestia grimaced, but said nothing more. It was better this way. Or healthier, at least. Twilight may miss the old Celestia, but she now knew it for the ill-fitted costume it was. To put it back on now would only insult the young princess.

They were not friends, nor were they ever. At least Twilight accepted it. She picked up her own cup, a smile working its way across her lips. “Well… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Celestia smiled back, just a tiny bit.

“Luna says you’ll be leaving Canterlot,” Twilight continued. “If you don’t mind my asking, where–”

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Celestia said sharply. “I…”

She trailed off, eyes to the window. Only with Luna could she share her feelings easily, without pride and fear contesting her every word. No such bond existed with Twilight.

But she could try. After a moment, she managed to continue. “I’m a private pony. I don’t know how well I can explain. You, ah, you know I’m not leaving under the best of circumstances.”

Sombra’s voice cut in from behind her. “Oh, tell her. You’re leaving before they find out you’re shit-in-hooves crazy.”

Celestia didn’t dignify that with a response, instead keeping her attention on Twilight. “I don’t want Luna living in my shadow. Or you, for that matter. I think it’s best if I just... go away. Fly off into the sunset, and all that.”

Twilight – never one for romantic phrasings – only smiled weakly in return. “You’d be welcome to stay at my castle. I still have far more rooms than I have any use for.”

Her smile became stronger, more confident. “And I’d like us to be friends. If nothing else, I hope we can try when you come back.”

‘If’ I come back. But Celestia saw no reason to correct her out loud. Instead, she agreed to keep the offer in mind, and moved the conversation to their favorite teas.

One evening saw Celestia return to her parlor – not at a walk so much as a plod.

The days had been bad enough these last six years, marred with bitter frustration and crumbling loyalty to her own ponies. But today gifted her with a special hell, bringing a new ghost more aggravating than the rest of them combined.

A plaster Celestia, so thoroughly decayed that black mold clung to its every crease. And all day it followed her, watching. That was not strange itself, for Rooke and Sombra had done the same. But while they would listen to her petitioners and comment accordingly, this new thing was simply mad. It blew wetly across its tongue and lips, creating raspberry noises not one meter from her head. And it never stopped. From the moment she raised the sun to this very instant, both sound and silence fought in her ears with the disgusting, endless burble.

It wore her patience, but even more than that it frightened her. She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide and haunted as they once more beheld the vision: a madmare, fit for the asylum. A sign of things to come.

“What will not come,” she whispered fiercely, unwilling to accept that fate. Not while an ounce strength remained to her.

Two guards overheard the words. Celestia flushed, and hurried past their curious stares.

The parlor was a welcome sight. As was Luna, perched at the old desk. The younger sister rose, immediately discarding the papers for a warm embrace. She could always tell when Celestia’s days got the better of her.

This time, though, the sun princess was too tired to be comforted. “I’m ready,” she mumbled, slipping out of Luna’s hug. “I’m done. I’m ready to go.”

“Go where?” Luna asked softly.

“Away,” Celestia groaned, mind clouded with fatigue. “Goodbye.” She entered their bedroom and shut the door, ignoring Luna’s confused and worried gaze.

Silence fell. Celestia smiled, welcoming it. The plaster thing had left, and taken with it the ceaseless burbling.

Exhausted, she fell to the bed and was asleep within moments.

“Poor thing. She used to be so great, and now…”

“I know. But this is the best we can do for her.”

Her wings and legs curled inwards, bound by cloth straps on a white jacket. Celestia gazed at the padded walls and tried to speak, but leather belts held her jaw shut tight.

“Do you really need to keep her gagged?”

“Yes. She keeps biting her leg. One time she did it hard enough to get through the strap, but she didn’t even try to escape. Just kept chewing her fetlock raw.”

A dream. Celestia realized it within a moment, and she brought her futile motions to a halt. There was nothing to do but wait it out.

Just a nightmare. Like today’s ghost, an embodiment of her fears.

She cursed inwardly as the thought summoned her plaster shadow. The decayed thing appeared in her cell and immediately resumed the babbled chorus it had kept up all day. Celestia groaned and twisted her neck down, trying to press her ears to the padded floor.

Soft growls and snorts became audible, rising against the endless gibber. Celestia welcomed them – any break from the copy’s noise was lovely, even one that was equally mad.

Then she blinked and froze, realizing the animal grunts came from her own mouth. She stopped, but not before the ponies outside heard.

“Has she… said anything since she came? Anything sensible?”

“I’m sorry, Twilight. She hasn’t.”

In a spasm of panic, Celestia began fighting frantically against the straps. She was sane. She could talk, if only they released her mouth. Growling and snapping, she shook her head violently, trying to bite through the gag

A last voice sounded, far more real than the muffled dream. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Luna stepped into view, blue magic shining from her horn. In an instant, the mask and straightjacket vanished from Celestia’s body.

The sun princess unfolded herself, rubbing a chin and smiling ruefully as the fear fell away. “And I’m sorry I acted the fool.”

“Think nothing of it,” Luna said, using a hoof to help her sister rise from the floor. “Dreams have their own logic. They can carry us away even when we see them for what they are. Even I’m not immune when my own nightmares catch me.”

She shrugged, frowning. “Again, I’m sorry I’m late. I did not expect you to go to bed immediately.”

“You don’t have to come every night,” Celestia offered. She smiled, but winced – the babbling statue remained, giving an unpleasant background to their words.

“Well…” Luna shrugged again. “I do. Sometimes twice, just to make sure. I am worried for you.”

She turned to the statue, frown deepening. “Do you really see this in your future?” Her horn lit, almost casually casting the hateful image into nothingness.

“No.” Celestia said it firmly, with such ready confidence that it took Luna by surprise. The night princess turned, her eyes probing Celestia’s face.

Luna broke the gaze, casting her own to the padded walls. “This is a strange dream, Tia. I visited a modern asylum, and it’s nothing like this. Even here in cluttered Canterlot, it was a place of open-air gardens and kind nurses. A place of healing, not containment.”

She turned back suddenly, fixing Celestia with a look the older sister could not help but avoid. “The Hairington Decree. Do you remember it?”

“Barely,” Celestia admitted.

Not enough for Luna. “I read about it. A few years after you started funding medicine, a pony named Doctor Hairington came with a proposal to heal the mentally ill, rather than lock them away. He wanted gardens, empathy, and a numerous and skilled staff. He was booed out of the Sun Court for the strangeness of his ideas, but you defended them. And now, centuries later, the flower has long bloomed. Even the most vulnerable of your subjects may live in your sun, and know tranquility and peace.”

Celestia smiled patiently. “I know this was just a nightmare. Why the history lesson?”

“Two reasons,” Luna offered, her glinting, determined eyes drawing in her sister’s gaze. “First: to remind you of the good you’ve done, and how that good carries on through the years. And how it will carry on. When you leave, you will not leave ‘defeated.’ You will not have ‘lost.’ Rather, you will step back as a jeweler steps back from a finished diamond. You will leave the throne of a beautiful nation, where crown, wealth, and industry exist to serve its people. You have done a great thing, and it will be on those behind you to keep it up.”

“You flatter me.” Celestia huffed, but could not resist a slight chuckle in her throat.

Luna shook her head. “Flattery speaks insincerely. I do not, though I do confess my hope that it shall make the second reason more palatable.”

She swallowed, and braced her hooves. Celestia tensed, sensing that the next words would be more difficult.

Luna spoke quickly, getting out as much as possible before the inevitable protest. “These asylums, they’re very nice, very roomy and private. The doctors have words now for everything that can be wrong with a pony’s brain. Depression, phobias, um, psychoses. They know how a lot of them work, and they have medicines and therapists and–”

“No,” Celestia cut in, her humor gone without a trace. “Out of the question.”

“We’ll have you wear a disguise, just like in the old days.” Luna’s voice strained as she rose to the wrathless fight. “Nopony will know.”

“I will know. As will you.” Celestia – proud Celestia – growled.

“Won’t you at least try it?”

“No! Damn no. We are done.”

“We are not!” Luna’s voice was angry, but fear marked her face. Celestia ignored both – she turned and strode through the padded wall, the dream’s hold lost on her.

“Why do you keep saying these things?” Luna asked hotly, following her to the cloudy space beyond. “Do you know what you sound like?”

Celestia picked up her pace, eyes narrowing. “Give me space, Luna. You’ve always given me space, so give it now!”

Luna went on, now shouting after her angry sister. “‘I didn’t want to come back.’ ‘I hate this.’ ‘I’m done.’ Do you know what that does to me? Well I’m done giving space. I have to know if you… if you plan on…”

She couldn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

It was a dark fantasy, one Celestia had fled to more than once. Nothing so undignified as a noose or blade. Just fly to a final sunset, upwards and upwards until I find the sun.

“If you really plan to…” Luna tried again. But Celestia’s temper was still heated. She would not be fixed like a broken toy, and she would not trade a gold cage for a padded one. She would not be ruled.

Celestia turned – not with a snarl, but hard, imperial anger. “And what if I do?”

The question all but slapped Luna across the mouth. She staggered, blinking quickly like a drunk in the sunlight.

As she rallied, the cruel question released a spark of anger on her face. Luna’s glare hardened, and she breathed in sharply.

The retort never came. Instead, Luna let the air out slowly, sighing into the ethereal clouds. She lowered her head and sighed again, readying herself with quiet steel.

She looked back up and smiled, very gently. “Then that would be okay.”

This time it was Celestia who rocked back on her hooves. All trace of anger deserted her face as she realized. Luna. Sister.

I hurt her. The one pony I care for on this whole damned world.

Luna continued – soft, but steady. “If you’re really that sick of it all. If you really feel like you’re done, and you’re too tired to even try. Then that’s okay.”

Her head sank once more. Her voice wavered, losing its strength. “I just… I want to keep you. I want you close. But more than that, I want you to be happy. So if that’s what you really want, I just want to tell you not to worry about me. Or Equestria. We’ll be fine. It’s alright, it’ll all be…”

She got no further. Alabaster hooves wrapped around her, pulling her crying face into a hug of almost violent strength.

“Luna, Luna!” Celestia called the words, screaming through her own tears. “Forget that. Cast it aside!”

She squeezed tighter, grasping for words. “No, I am not. I am…”

The words came raspy and uncertain, but they were all she had. She could only pray her clumsy skill could give her heart its voice. “I am not ready to die. I don’t want to. I can… I can love, Luna. Isn’t that strange? I didn’t think I could anymore, but here we are! I love you, I really think I do. I think… I think I might be figuring things out. And I want to keep figuring things out, because there’s so much more. The future is exciting, and that’s strange, too. I’m almost free, almost there, and it’s so close now. Imagine: Celestia, free! What a thought.”

She laughed – tearful, sad, and joyful. “I’m sorry I grew angry. I’m sorry I said cruel things and hurt you. But I can’t be caged. Not now, so close to my release. I don’t want to hide, and bluff, and talk about my problems with ponies who can’t hope to understand. I want to fly. I want to fly for a very long time, and I want to be alone. Time, Luna – I want time to figure out the rest. Maybe I won’t return, but I think I will. I want to.”

“Then take a year,” Luna said breathlessly, returning the hug with all its force. “Or take a thousand. And when you grow tired of flying, come home and rest your wings.”

They kissed – a chaste, sister’s kiss as they gripped each other. Luna was the first to break it, though she immediately leaned back in for a nuzzle. “Any time, Tia. I think I’m ready.”

“Soon, then.” Celestia stepped out of the embrace. “I think you’re ready, too. As ready as I can make you.”

Her eyes lit, and she gave a short, surprised laugh. “Spring begins in two weeks, I believe. That shall be the day.”

“A good omen,” Luna nodded in agreement, though a wistful smile marked her face. “I’d keep you forever if I could.”

Celestia shook her head, but a strange light remained in her eyes. “Perhaps one day, you shall.”

“Sister!” Luna groaned and laughed, seeing for the first time the disguise Celestia had chosen. “You look so old!”

Celestia shook her head at the comment, admiring her new form in the bedroom mirror. “Well, I feel old. It suits me better than some blushing schoolfilly. Besides, it’s not that old.”

“Mature,” would have perhaps been a more accurate word. It was a white, middle-aged unicorn who looked back at her from the oversized mirror. With deep-set eyes, and a few care lines crossing the cheeks. Her faded pink mane was tied in a short bun atop her head, raising her size to only an average height.

She was pretty, in a weathered sort of way. A mare past her time of foolish youth, trading a smooth face for the stern dignity that experience brings. “Dawn” was her name. Simple, but it came to Celestia the moment she beheld her. The name of a quiet, distant pony, content to introduce herself with a single word. A good fit for the mind that lay inside.

Honestly, Dawn might never leave the castle. Celestia would depart with all her glory – flying high, triumphant above her ponies one last time. Showing them that she left of her own will, confident in her successor.

“And where will you go?” Luna had asked.

“North,” Celestia replied, her lit eyes betraying the excitement behind them. “Past the Crystal Empire. Sombra once told me they had a legend of an ancient city within the frozen wastes. It supposedly rests at the top of the world, built by a race who came before ponies or griffons. I think it would be a fine task for keeping myself busy. Just me and the snow, and perhaps one day I’ll return with a fine story for you.”

That was appealing. A long, patient search, with nary a soul around. Celestia would sleep in the disguise, on the off-chance she was happened upon. But otherwise, there was no reason not to wander as the alicorn she always was.

A brush of feathers brought Celestia back to the present. Luna’s wing had settled over her, the now-larger sister looking down with a gentle smile.

“Forgive my lack of excitement,” Luna whispered, tightening her wing’s grip. “Part of me feels like I’m losing you again.”

“You speak as though you won’t be patrolling my dreams.” Celestia said it matter-of-factly, wearing a victorious smirk.

“I know you seek solitude,” Luna said solemnly. “If you do not want me, I will not come.”

Celestia rubbed her body to Luna’s legs, laughing with the memory of how often Twilight did that with her own. “I never said that, and I do not believe I shall.”

“Can I visit, too?” Luna asked. “Not just guard against nightmares, but really spend nights with you?”

“Of course.”

Luna nodded. “Once or twice a week. And if you need anything, you can feel free to ask.”

Celestia laughed again, tilting Dawn’s head to match eyes with her sister. “You too. I’ll come back if you need me.”

“Really?” Luna chuckled in turn. “You shouldn’t tempt me like that.”

Celestia stepped away, her magic raising a pair of saddlebags from the floor. “Still, the offer stands. I love you more than I hate Canterlot.”

The end came with little ceremony, but great fanfare. With the last toast completed, the last hoof clasped in friendship, Celestia rose to flight from the highest tower in the castle. Below her, the ponies called their goodbyes, hearts full of love and admiration. And if a few of those hearts had noticed her exhaustion, or heard her talk to an empty room, then they were all the more moved by the imperfect ruler who strove so long for all their sakes.

Luna saw her off from the tower, but did not follow. She had many tasks before her, including a half-grieved populace to address. Besides, there was little to gain by making their parting a pained, stretched-out thing.

It proved for the best, as departing alone spared Celestia a great deal of embarrassment. Her flaccid wings began to burn within moments of flight, and by noontime she was forced to land. She walked for a time as the unicorn Dawn, but soon found her legs possessed of similar endurance. A few more hours of travel were all it took to make her stop for a rest.

She settled herself in one of the forests that dotted Equestria, this one of great northern pines. Their fallen needles cushioned the ground, giving Celestia as soft a bed as she could hope for as her weary body sank downwards. The limbs burned and ached, yet she smiled, for the endless headache was gone. Better still, the old ghosts seemed to have remained in Canterlot, though perhaps it was too early to say.

An hour passed in chilly stillness. Then another, and two more. Very strange, it all felt. Silence, away from the bustle of the palace. Even the hours themselves were bizarre, for to lay this long without sleep or labor was a thing she hadn’t known for many years.

Her mind twitched, unused to the silence. She wondered if it would ever feel natural. That and a great deal of other things were pondered as her brain invented its own work for want of any other. The coming journey was planned according to the maps from her saddlebag, and then re-planned twice more. She even broke the silence with a soft laugh, wondering if she might go crazy from the idleness.

The laughter died. That “C” word ended her good humor in an instant. She thought of Luna’s asylums, and wondered if this was a mistake after all. One among many. So many mistakes and regrets that she couldn’t give them a number, though her twitching mind made a go of it.

So many mistakes. All of them preventable, if only she could somehow go back in time. Warn the Celestia she used to be. But that was a bland and useless fantasy. Besides, perhaps the proud Celestia of years now past wouldn’t listen. Princess Celestia – Perfect, shining, golden…

The thought’s trail brought a new frown to her face. Not a sad one, but the intense look she got when a difficult or obnoxious labor would arise. A thing to be done because it had to be done, and there was no point in complaining.

Yes, there was one more thing to do. Celestia rose, took her natural form, and stretched her wings. They still hurt, but the pain was tolerable.

She lifted off, flying south – back to Canterlot.

More hours passed in the air, and the morning’s pains returned to her wings. It was night by the time she arrived, and that was good – Luna had enough on her plate without Celestia confusing everypony with a sudden return.

As stealthily as she could, Celestia landed on her balcony. The glass door opened without a sound – one of Luna’s first priorities upon moving in had been to restore its function. They had a few times gone flying together, though it never became a habit. Still, the door was open.

A light touch of magic lit the room’s lamps. Luna was absent despite the late hour, though Celestia thought little of it. It was inevitable that the new ruler’s first day would be a long one.

Truth be told, the arrangement was pleasing. Fresh contact would bring questions Celestia did not feel like answering, and their goodbyes had already been said. Privacy was welcome for the task at hoof.

Luna had not fully conquered the room, and she likely never would. Celestia’s side was untouched, and there her objective sat. With trembling magic, she reached out, grasped the thing, and brought it in close.

The old statue. Dusty, yes, decayed, yes, but a magnificent work all the same. Princess Celestia, with golden halo and conquering spear.

She began to breathe fast, holding the artifact in quaking hooves. The thrice-damned hunk of plaster and gold. It would have been gone years ago, but for the intervention of a sharp-eyed maid.

Not this time. Standing as a biped, Celestia lifted it slowly, her eyes following as it rose over her head.

She paused. It was very beautiful. A priceless relic. The labor of years from a griffon artisan’s life.

Who was she to destroy it? To rob the world of beauty and art. She could have it auctioned, if nothing else, and give the money to a worthy cause. A far better deed than destructive spite.

With shaking hooves, she turned it, looking closely. The spear, plunging into Nightmare Moon. The angelic halo. The mare itself: Princess Celestia. Perfect and golden.

Her trembling grew still.

“Enough of you,” she said, surprised at how strong the words came. With a quick, confident motion, she raised the statue and pitched it to the ground. The ancient plaster all but disintegrated as it hit the floor, sending dust billowing upwards and the gold spear bouncing across the carpet.

There were no take-backs, no chance to change her mind. That was good. Celestia breathed in sharply, relief flooding her senses.

She looked down. The statue’s base had endured, as did Nightmare Moon’s body. But the monster’s head and wings were gone, and nothing remained of the imaged Celestia. It would do.

Celestia nodded. She strode to the balcony, spread her wings, and resumed her flight northwards.

Author's Notes:

End of Part 2.

Epilogue incoming, probably tomorrow.