Then.

Adlaborn. Year 1 of the Calendar Celestia Solitarius. 1,000 years before the Anno Harmonia.

There was only one being who could summon Galatea in all of Equus, and so when she felt that call she left the city of Canterlot to meet with him.

It would have been a lie to say that the meeting was one Galatea was looking forward to. Quite the contrary – she strongly suspected that this was one meeting she would find… difficult. But Sint Erklass had never before summoned her, never once asked her to come here and speak with him. That meant that he had something to say.

Unfortunately, Galatea had a very good idea what exactly that something was.

He was waiting by the same stream they had met by two and a half thousand years previously. The stream had expanded, becoming more of a river, though still shallow enough for fawns and foals to play in at their leisure. He wore a black cloak of mourning, still rimmed in white. In the pale light of the full moon, the stag no longer looked scarlet – instead, he looked cold and dark, and his expression was unreadable.

“Do you know why I’ve asked you here?” he asked her without preamble. She dropped her concealment charm – she had kept it on now for nearly a month, watching events unseen and hidden, so there was a brief feeling of tension dropping from her head that felt oddly relieving. She had spent years perfecting the charm, to the point that she could stand right next to another and not be seen… and yet, no matter how much more proficient she became with the charm, he could always sense her.

Or perhaps he was just very good at guessing.

“I… have a guess,” she said hesitantly.

It was strange. She was not afraid, as such, but she was… nervous. Almost as though she was afraid of his judgement.

‘To me, thou art a daughter as much as they’, he had told her once. And though she hardly had what she would have called a father-daughter relationship with him, as she understood the concept (and watching him with her sisters had certainly been an education in that)… he was the closest thing she would ever have.

“Were you there?” he asked.

She nodded. “I saw it all. From a distance, admittedly, but I heard what was said. I saw their battle.”

Sint nodded slowly. “But you did not act.”

“It was not the time,” Galatea replied at once. “Celestia had the matter well in hoof.”

“Did she, really?” Sint Erklass asked. “I visited her, you know. After all was said and done, and the moon was marked.” He sniffed. “At Canterlot, not their castle. Celestia has all but abandoned that fortress now.”

“I saw your arrival at the city,” Galatea said softly.

Sint nodded, his expression still controlled. “And did you hear what was said then?”

Galatea flinched at his tone. “I did not intrude. It was… private.”

Sint snorted derisively. “Most would say you exist to intrude on their privacy, Galatea.”

“I exist to protect them and keep them on the path,” Galatea replied, scowling at him in turn.

“Had you seen your sister’s tears,” Sint a Erklass said coldly, “you would not think her protected.”

There was a long, pregnant pause between them.

“She acted well,” Galatea said after a moment. “Though it hurt her to do it, she defeated this ‘Nightmare Moon’ and preserved peace in Equestria.”

“At the cost of her sister,” Sint Erklass said.

“She is banished, not dead,” Galatea retorted hotly. “And there is yet hope for her return and restoration.”

“What hope is there?!” Sint roared suddenly, his teeth bared in rage.

Galatea stepped back, eyes widened in shock. She had never seen Sint Erklass so much as raise his voice before – to see him now so lacking in serenity was… unnerving.

“Luna was lonely,” Sint continued, taking a step towards Galatea. “Lonely, and afraid, and feeling as though her efforts were wasted and unappreciated – and what did you do? Nothing!”

“I know many things, Sint Erklass, but I cannot read their thoughts,” Galatea said. “I could not have anticipated -”

“You did nothing!” Sint snapped. “Not even when the two of them tore their home apart! When they all-but killed one another!”

Galatea closed her eyes. “It was not mine place to protect Celestia from Luna’s aberration, not when she herself was able to handle the situation, not when she herself was capable!”

“You told me once that you would act to stop them becoming tyrants,” Sint said. “What was this aberration if not that? Would it not have been your purpose to fight alongside Celestia? Could you not have prevented what happened to Luna?!”

“I do not know what happened to her,” Galatea said quietly. “And so, no, I could not have prevented anything.”

Sint Erklass blinked. “You… do not know. You have spent two and a half millennia watching them, yet somehow you do not know what they are capable of?”

“I am imparted with all the knowledge that mine Mother had about Alicorns,” Galatea replies, “but we were engineered, Sint Erklass, not born. You know that better than I. You were there.”

She paused, fearing for a moment that she had gone too far. His expression was stony, and he was glaring at her with a rage she had hitherto never seen in him.

When he did not reply, she continued. “There is much we do not know about what we were made to do, what we are capable of doing. For all we know, this is some evolution of Alicorn kind.”

“That, I highly doubt,” Sint Erklass snorted.

Galatea sighed. “You and I both know that the forms of engineering that we came from are not always pleasant. The Chimerae, for example?”

Sint Erklass’ expression softened. “You make a point there. But I cannot believe that this was intended.”

“Intended by Faust, no,” Galatea said, “but intended by whatever force created the Fausticorn and laid down the blueprints for Alicorns at all? That, neither of us could say for certain.”

Sint’s expression was unreadable. Finally, he sighed.

“Still,” he said. “You should have done something. That was what you were made to do.”

“I am… I am made to protect them,” Galatea said. “Not constrain them. To deny them their choices, to force them to conform to the role they are meant to fit in a constricting manner of mine own interpretation… that is not what mine Mother wanted for them, nor for me.”

Sint snorted. “Luna is not protected. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

“She was not meant to be protected from her own choices,” Galatea said, “she was meant to be protected from others -”

“What others left on this world could hurt them?!” Sint snapped.

“Since when were you so naive?” Galatea shot back. “This world is more powerful and more dangerous than you, I, or even mine Mother knew, Sint Erklass, and pretending otherwise is stupid, a word I have never had cause to think of you before!”

There was a long pause, and for a moment Galatea thought Sint Erklass might shout at her again.

“But,” Sint Erklass said, “is it not also true that you were made to prevent them both from becoming a threat to this world? Faust knew that was possible.”

“Indeed,” Galatea nodded, “but Luna was stopped long before I needed to step in.”

“Oh, yes, long before indeed,” Sint Erklass scowled. “All she managed to do was break her sister’s heart.”

There was a long, pregnant pause between them, filled with a thousand unsaid cruelties that both of them could have thrown.

Where were you, old stag, when the daughter you raised was in misery? Galatea found herself thinking, but she dismissed that thought. It was unworthy of her.

“What was Luna made to be?” Sint asked after a moment.

“Celestia’s companion and friend throughout the ages,” Galatea replied at once. “Her moral compass, her heart’s guide, her conscience.”

She was quoting their Mother’s words, and yet never had the repetition of those hallowed commandments proved so empty to her before.

“And it does not occur to you that she could chafe under those restrictions?” Sint Erklass said. “To act as another’s heart, another’s conscience, but to be alone herself?”

“They were not meant to know they have any restrictions!” Galatea said, almost desperately. “Their entire lives are meant to be free – to choose their own path!”

“Like you?” Sint asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, not like me,” she hissed. “I know the path. I have always known the path. And I am content in being alone. Celestia and Luna have always had one another – that was their support! They exist to balance each other – to work with each other!”

“Clearly that aspect of their relationship failed,” Sint said coldly.

“Obviously,” Galatea retorted. “But it was not mine place to fix it.”

“They walk a path you could have warned them of,” Sint retorted.

“It is not mine role to make their choices for them!” Galatea reiterated.

Sint continued unrelenting. “And I do not say you should, but had you come forth, told them what they were made for -”

Galatea shook her head. “That would have constrained them.”

“You are not so damaged for that constraint,” Sint pointed out. “And at least they would have known. And had you.”

“I was made to know, they were not.” Galatea’s voice was crackling, whether with emotion or overuse she could not tell. She couldn’t recall speaking for this long in centuries. “And I walk the solitary path mine Mother set down knowingly, and happily, for it allows them to be free.”

“Free like Luna is now?!” Sint Erklass shouted, motioning to the moon. Galatea did not look – she doubted she would be able to look at the moon for a very long time.

“Free like she was, to choose her own path, even if it was a self-destructive one,” she replied, but it was little more than a murmur.

“What was the point of that?!” Sint Erklass snapped. “Was this misery, this confrontation, not inevitable?”

Galatea let out a deep sigh. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of just how tired she was. No, more than that.

How old she was.

She had watched her sisters take the dual throne of Equestria, had watched them defeat the last of the Old Junta, negotiate with the Unicornic princes, expand Equestria from a core of broken peoples to almost the entirety of the pony race. So many years, so many triumphs.

And all you can do is watch.

“I do not know, Sint Erklass,” she finally said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I am not omniscient. I am a sentinel – but a sentinel can still fail.”

Sint Erklass nodded, though he said nothing for a long moment.

Galatea closed her eyes, willing the sudden wash of anger and misery that she felt away.

“Can you do nothing now?” Sint’s voice suddenly asked.

Galatea opened her eyes. He was looking at her almost desperately.

“No,” she finally said.

“Nothing?” Sint asked. “Can you not… can you not free her?”

Galatea pursed her lips. “I do not… I don’t know. So much of this… I do not know the power of the Elements of Harmony, the things Celestia used. I could not begin to undo that power, not without that understanding.”

Sint Erklass’ expression softened. “No. I suppose that would be a wrinkle in such an effort, would it not? Those devices are older than any of us, and beyond even the understanding of the Ancients.”

Galatea frowned. “Perhaps Celestia will find a way.”

Sint sighed, but said nothing for a long moment. Galatea could feel

“She should not have had to,” he suddenly said. He looked up and met her eyes. “A sentinel you call yourself? But what good is a sentinel who will not act when she is needed? They needed you, Galatea, your sisters needed you, and what were you doing?” He scowled. “Nothing.”

Galatea closed her eyes again, feeling a sudden wash of… nausea? Yes, that was it – she felt nauseous, but she didn’t know why.

When she opened her eyes, Sint Erklass looked stricken, as though he, too, felt suddenly ill. She met his eyes, and felt a sudden wave of something – sadness? Regret?

“You…” he began slowly.

“I have work to do,” she cut him off. She swallowed. “I am sorry I could not protect your daughters from themselves. Truthfully, I wish I knew how I could. I always thought I would know how to act, how to stop them from straying, but…”

She blinked. Something wet was on her face.

“Galatea,” Sint Erklass said. There was something else in his expression now, but Galatea did not care to interpret it.

“I will trouble you no longer, Guardian of Joy,” she said shortly, turning away from him at once.

Her horn glowed, and in a flash of light she was miles away from the stream and from the disappointed glare of the old Reindeer. She stood alone in a different forest. Only now that she was alone did she finally risk looking up at the moon, and the face that was now there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She no longer needed to hide her tears, and so she did not. She let out a howl – rage? Misery? Self-loathing? Perhaps it was all of these things. She stayed in that forest, weeping, until her throat was raw, her eyes were blurred and her body shook. Slowly, she calmed herself.

There was still one sister, a sister who needed a sentinel more than ever. With work still to do, Galatea spread her wings wide, and flew.

Now.

Charopolis, Equus-Imperator.

The stone road of the Charopolis led up from the gate to the Citadel itself. Along the road lay broken trees and burnt grass – the only remnants of the great battle fought here. Again, the bodies had been taken, even the fallen Newfoals and other abominations Galatea knew the Solar Empire had unleashed.

Galatea scowled as she trotted along the ruined street towards the Citadel.

Why did you not call me? she wondered. Did you believe I would not act, that I would fail as you thought I failed then?

Though she knew she was fooling herself if she believed being here would have totally averted this outcome, Galatea couldn’t believe that being here wouldn’t have made some, small difference. Even if the one who had commanded Celestia’s armies here, her ‘Angel’, had managed to kill Sint Erklass himself.

I could have done something, Sint, she thought as she reached the broken door of the Citadel itself. I could have helped you. Family, you called me once – but what sort of family am I, to leave you to die?

The citadel was sacked as well. Walls were scorched, and though the bodies had been moved and burned by the occupying forces (before they left, at least), there was a stench of death about the place.

Galatea stayed quiet as she moved into the citadel. The central staircase was still there, as were the halls leading into rooms at the east and west wings of the great edifice. Though Celestia had apparently held no interest in actually holding Adlaborn after her Angel wiped it clean, there was still a chance that there were Guardsponies roaming the halls, finishing the cleanup job.

Moving as quietly as she could, Galatea headed up the stairwell, careful to keep her hoof-steps as quiet as they could be.

The library she was seeking was on the tenth floor of the citadel, behind another pair of massive oak doors.

What is it with ancient towers and massive doors? she thought with a smirk. Or perhaps it is a symbol of power?

Her horn glowed and she pushed the doors open with only a little effort, wincing at the loud creaking that sounded. Galatea stepped into the library. But her heart sank as light from her horn was cast onto the shelves.

Many of the books of the great library had been reduced to ashes. Shelves that reached high up into the cavernous ceiling had been smashed and torn, and ancient tones that had been protected by magicks unknown to even Galatea herself had been torn apart.

One of the first acts of any great tyrant, Galatea thought sadly. Destroy the books.

There was little chance of finding anything intact here, but she knew she had to try. She started going over the wreckage, her horn glowing as she picked over the ruined shelves and the burnt books.

Something glinted, underneath some of the rubble. Galatea frowned, before moving aside the rubble with a quick exertion of magic. The glinting object in question was a small shard of a silver medallion, pitted and melted in places. But inside the medallion, Galatea could see a small crystal.

Hidden knowledge, perhaps? she thought, frowning. Gently she picked the crystal out of the medallion, frowning at it – only for the crystal to fly from her magical grip and hover in the air.

Galatea stepped back, a shield raised hastily between her and the crystal. It hovered in the air for a long moment, before glinting again. Suddenly, a figure flickered to life, projected by the crystal. The figure was tall, scarlet, clad in a long cloak and carrying a pair of pickaxes strapped to his body.

Sint Erklass, clad for war.

“Galatea, if you are here, this message should have activated. So I know that you are watching.” There was a long pause, as though the old stag did not know what to say. “I cannot spare the time to give you the apology you deserve for our last meeting, so know that I am sorry, and I am more sorry that we have not spoken since. But, alas, we will have no time for me to make reparations.”

Galatea’s eyes were wide. He had left a message for her? Judging by his attire this had been during the battle that had ended the Reindeer race.

“If you are watching this, then my worst fears have come to pass. I could not protect the Charopolis, and Celestia’s ‘Angel’ has come to end me.” The image of Sint snorted. “There is much I do not understand abou what has happened – about why she would choose to do this. And I admit to a certain disappointment that she could not even bear to come here and end me herself. But whatever has happened, there may have been a clue to it in the library here. This is what brought you here.”

Galatea nodded, then felt foolish and looked away.

“Obviously, they intend to destroy us,” Sint’s image continued, “so I do not anticipate them leaving the library intact. But fortunately, there is another option.”

Galatea blinked, before looking back at the image of Sint Erklass. He can’t mean…

“The Librarium at the Tower of Stars,” the image said. “It will have information on magics long since lost to this world, and it is hopefully out of the reach of Celestia for the moment. Even if it were not, the spirits that protected it will not give up their post so easily – you may yet have time to aid them.”

Galatea nodded, but she felt a wave of apprehension.

The Tower of Stars… she thought. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh.

“You do not make mine task easy, do you, old stag?” she asked ruefully.

“Of course I don’t.” Galatea’s head shot up. The image of Sint was smiling right at her. “But ‘easy’ was never your path, my daughter.”

“You’re…” Galatea whispered.

“Dead, but I left enough residual energy in this to say goodbye,” the image of Sint Erklass said. “I know you are most likely afraid. But I also know that you will have the strength to do what must be done.”

Galatea nodded dumbly. For a moment there was silence between them. The image of Sint Erklass continued to smile paternally at her.

“I suppose it would be useless to ask if you have any answers for… this,” Galatea finally asked, waving her wing airily.

“Had I answers, I would have tried to stop it, or let you know how to,” Sint Erklass’ remnant said sadly. “But I do not. I do not understand why Celestia has chosen this path, what pushed her in this way. What I do know is that it is up to you to stop her.”

“That much I already knew,” Galatea said dully.

“Ah, yes,” Sint’s image said, his smile fading. “I do not mean to remind you of the enormity of your task. Only to tell you that I have faith in you.” He paused, and the smile returned, bittersweet and tired. “And so, farewell, my daughter. May the world that awaits be a kinder one.”

With that final sentiment, Sint Erklass’ image faded into nothingness.

The strength to do what must be done. Galatea shook her head. Increasingly she feared she did not know ‘what must be done’. So much made no sense.

But he had faith in you, Galatea thought. He had faith in you to do the right thing, no matter what it is.

So – to the Tower of Stars it was. Perhaps in that hallowed place, she would find the answers she sought.

Author's Notes:

I always knew there was more to the story of Galatea’s role in the fight between Nightmare Moon and Celestia than I’ve managed to explore before. And this chapter also explores how Sint Erklass might have felt after, effectively, one of his daughters had to banish the other to the moon. I’d like to say it was super planned out, but like all arguments it started and just sort of went from there.