Celestia Sleeps In

Deliberations

Admiral Biscuit

“Sometimes we wish we were the dominant mare,” Luna sobbed.

Twilight froze. While she had often had similar thoughts about her older sibling—everypony did, she was sure—she had never acted on them. She had checked and double-checked that the spell was safe and couldn’t be tampered with, but if anypony could find a way to misguide this spell, it would be Luna.

No. Looking at Luna, whimpering into her hooves, Twilight realized that this was not the face of a remorseless creature who would have sent fourteen ponies—including her own sister—to their doom. She nuzzled Luna’s neck again. Something was happening, and she felt that events were spinning out of control, but whatever it was, the alicorn wasn’t behind it.

She would solve nothing by rushing to judgment. While it was possible that these were crocodile tears that Luna was shedding, she could feel the racing heartbeat of the Princess throbbing in her neck, and the scent of fear hung heavy in the still air.

This was like one of those dreams where she was galloping but not getting anywhere. Twilight swallowed a lump in her throat, still whispering soft reassurances to the lunar diarch. It’s exactly like when I was trapped in the Crystal Empire. Even the memory was enough to make her shudder. She had never felt so impotent. Ok. Celestia’s a big pony, she can take care of herself. Right now, I need to help pull Luna together, for the good of Equestria. Nothing else matters. If we have to, Luna and I can raise the sun, but only if I can keep her calm.

It was that easy. Three years ago, before she was sent to Ponyville, if anypony had asked if Twilight had what it took to be a leader, the answer would have been a resounding no. Even Twilight herself wouldn’t have thought so. Friendless, armed only with vast untapped magical potential and a thirst for knowledge, Princess Celestia had thrown her at the unsuspecting denizens of Ponyville. Left to her own devices, she had managed to make five friends loyal enough to follow her to the ruins of the ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters and activate the Elements of Harmony, and as the weeks and months passed by, she had strengthened her bond both with her friends and with the citizens of Ponyville. In three short years, ponies looked to her for answers before the mayor. While that had not been Celestia’s intention, she was not disappointed.

Twilight lay down next to Luna, pushing her body close despite the cold metal of the regal barding. There were a million thoughts rushing through her head, but there was nothing she could do about any one of them. She looked at the dimly glimmering circle on the floor of the great hall, so close that she could almost reach out a hoof and touch it.

She flared her nostrils, and took a deep breath, hoping for just a slight trace of her mentor’s scent in the air, but there was none. Sighing, she laid her chin against the ground and closed her eyes.

The last thing Twilight would have expected was to fall asleep, yet that is exactly what she did.

As Twilight drifted off, Luna’s tears finally dried. She reached out her magic and pushed the moon gently, feeling the slight resistance of Solar magic against her. It was a hopeful sign—Celestia still had hold over the sun, wherever she was.

She closed her eyes, and began seeing with her horn. It took a moment, but presently she could clearly perceive the golden ring in the great hall, extending outwards and upwards in a vast tunnel far into the sky, well past the orbit of the moon. A thicker golden tendril pulsed through the channel, bending sharply where it entered Equestria.

This was the connection between Celestia and the sun; it would join the two as long as they lived, or until it was freely surrendered. It was not unlike the silvery connection she had to the moon, a comforting companion to her for many years.

Luna looked over at the unicorn snoring softly beside her. It was a shame she couldn’t see it. Apparently, the professors were teaching that each type of pony had its own special connections with the magic of Equestria, and that one couldn’t use another pony’s talents. She wondered why. In her day, everypony knew that the magic of Equestria lifted all ponies equally. The Unicorn Council had tried to suppress that knowledge, of course, but Celestia’s herd had put paid to them.

Perhaps it was Celestia’s misunderstanding of Equestrian magic. Luna knew earth ponies who could perform unicorn spells, despite the lack of a horn. They couldn’t understand how they did it, and the few spells they knew were self-taught. Nopony ever enrolled their unhorned offspring in magic kindergarten, after all.

Luna snorted. Celestia had enthusiastically come into her chambers after Twilight had performed her experiment with Trixie. One would have thought she had just discovered fire. She put a wing over Twilight. Such a brilliant mind, yet there is so much you have to discover.

I have been living in my sister’s shadow too long, Luna thought. It seemed it was much easier to have these thoughts when Celestia wasn’t nearby. Perhaps that is why ponies don’t trust me. They see me as a darker side of Celestia, not as a separate pony. Perhaps they misunderstand what half-sister really means. She sighed. If anypony was to take her seriously, she had to take a greater leadership role, she had to be seen during the day, and her sister and Twilight Sparkle would insist she had to speak like everypony else. Unless....

“Our first commandment shall be the return of our glorious language to its full flower. Henceforth, anypony who doth misuse the Royal Canterlot Unicorn language shall be sentenced to three cycles of forced labor in the scullery.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but she chuckled as Twilight’s ears perked up, and the Royal Guard stationed outside the door turned his head inward.

“Milady?” At least her night guards still spoke properly.

“We simply amused ourselves with a harmless jape,” she whispered. “Continue thy duty.”

He turned his head, face returning to its detached stoicism. Luna idly wondered if he would still be stoic if she snatched his armor off. Perhaps she could cast a spell to heat the metal—that would be an interesting experiment. She frowned. No doubt the guards would be displeased to see a lighter side of Luna, and Celestia would fix her with an angry stare….

As much as she felt that Celestia’s vacation was a mistake, she had not put her hoof down, since she, too, sometimes wished that she could spend some time enjoying herself, like anypony else. Her Nightmare Night foray to Ponyville had been little better than complete disaster. The only place she seemed to get any enjoyment was in other pony’s dreams, and even that was fleeting.

Still, if Celestia’s experiment was successful, she could take her own vacations. She smiled, imagining herself frolicking on a beach, splashing her hooves in the water—she could strip off her regalia, and dance around au natural.

She would know, soon enough. The moon was nearing the horizon. Morning had nearly arrived.

Twilight looks around. She is standing in her parents' living room, surrounded by the wreckage of a vase. She believes it is their favorite vase; she does not know that to every foal, everything that gets broken is their parent’s favorite, even when it isn’t.

She knows they will be back soon. They went to a concert with her brother, and she persuaded them that she was a big enough filly to take care of herself, and then she went and broke a vase. Tears begin welling in her eyes.

They will never let her alone again. How can they trust her? Who’s to say that next time, she might not burn down the house? If Cadance were here, she would nuzzle Twilight, and give her some hot chocolate, and they would have a good laugh, and her foalsitter would explain it to her parents in the way big ponies do. But Cadance isn’t here.

Maybe she can fix it. She knows what it used to look like, when it was perched upon a clearly unstable end-table. She has already cleaned and dried the water on the rug.

She concentrates. A magenta glow begins to surround all the pieces. She can sense where they have skidded across the floor, because they feel different to her telekinesis than wood or carpet. She begins to float the pieces of the vase in front of her, turning them this way and that, forming them back into the shape of the vase.

She doesn’t know that her task is impossible. She will not learn for several years that glass flexes before it breaks, hopelessly deforming the vase as it struck the floor, microseconds before fractures began rushing from the origin point. She has her tongue stuck out in concentration, trying and failing to reassemble the shattered glass.

There are, of course, complicated mending spells which can overcome this difficulty, but young Twilight does not know them. She can mend simple breaks, but that is all she has learned. She has done the best she can. The vase has become a Daliesque parody of itself.

Now she lies on the floor, exhausted and worried. She will tell her parents that it was an accident, that she tried to fix it, that she couldn’t find all the pieces. Her mother will scold her; her father will look at the vase admiringly. Her simple spell has knitted it back together well enough. Later that night, her parents will talk about it in low tones, chuckling to themselves about the precociousness of foals. The vase will be removed from the table, never to be seen again. Twilight, of course, will assume that her parents have thrown it away, but they have kept it, a proud trophy of foalhood, not dissimilar to the mouth-drawn stickpony crayon art tacked on the kitchen cupboards, or the splintery impractical napkin holder that graces the dining room table.

She lies awake half the night. Not because of her parents' displeasure—the anticipation was much worse than the actual event—but because she still cannot explain her inability to find all the pieces. She had scoured the living room for them, checked her fur, her mane, between her tiny hand-me-down horseshoes and hooves, everywhere else she could imagine that they might have flown.

She does not take defeat lightly. But in the end, it is not her failure to properly mend that vase that gnaws at her, it is her lack of understanding of what went wrong. Eventually, of course, the incident with the vase fades from prominence, and she nearly forgets it, but the lesson of the vase will stay with her forever.

Twilight opened her eyes. It was nearly sunrise, and she was completely disoriented. She often had vivid dreams, dreams which made her chuckle upon waking—but this was a memory. The sight of her full-grown foreleg stretched just in front of her muzzle had been briefly disorienting. Still, it awoke more recent memories. The conundrum of Trixie is still weighing heavily on her mind, and she is sure that there are pieces of the puzzle that are just beyond her grasp—maybe they aren’t missing, maybe their shape was just unclear.

Even more confounding was the warm body to her right and the warm feeling across her back. She turned her head, and found herself looking into the brilliant blue eyes of the lunar princess.

The next few seconds were an awkward mix of fur and feathers as the two disentangled, neither daring to meet the other’s eyes. The princess looked guilty, Twilight looked sheepish, and they both found interesting spots on the floor to admire.

The silence had drawn on for so long that it had nearly achieved sapience. The unicorn scratched her hoof against the marble and shifted her weight absently, while Luna’s wings remained erect, her focus shifting from not-Twilight stained-glass window to not-Twilight carpeted throned dais to not-Twilight bias-relief carved stone pillar. Finally, Luna cleared her throat, and dispelled the silence regally.

“We thank thee for providing us comfort during our period of distress,” she decreed, still trying not to meet the blushing unicorn’s visage. “We are gladdened that somepony cares about us,” the princess continued. “We shall enter thy name into the Book of Deeds, so everypony shall know thou hast provided us with a needful service. We…um…owe thee a boon for providing ourselves with such service.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Had the princess actually been looking at her, she no doubt would have been chastised. “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she muttered. She looked up at Luna. “If you want to provide a boon, I want to know what happened to Trixie!” She flicked her ears. “I was led to believe that she had taken up a permanent office here, yet when I went down to check on her last evening, her office was gone. Why?”

Luna was surprised at the question. “Did our sister not tell thee?” She half-snorted, half-laughed. “Beatrix shall remain in her chambers until—“

Princess Celestia and her entourage flashed back into the great hall, rudely interrupting Luna. For a moment, the fourteen ponies seemed but a ghostly mirage, obscured by swirling sand.

As the field collapsed completely, everypony breathed a sigh of relief. One of the pegasi fell to his knees, kissing the cold flagstones. Lyra had a pensive look, while Celestia seemed unusually distracted. It reminded Twilight of the look she had had in Sombra’s vision. It passed quickly enough, as she glanced at the guards.

“You twelve are dismissed from your duties with pay for the next week. You shall maintain silence about what you have witnessed. If I hear any one of you has broken silence, all twelve of you will be stripped of your rank and armor and assigned to patrol cesspools for the rest of your lives.”

The guards saluted respectfully before trotting out of the throne room. Celestia began walking towards the door. “Luna, please follow me to the balcony. It is nearly time for me to raise the sun. Twilight, Lyra, please wait in my chambers.”

The two unicorns shared a surprised look, their ears perking up as Celestia ordered the guard at the entrance to have the Royal Commander at her door in five minutes. Shrugging, they followed the alicorn sisters.

Inspired by the tone in her voice, the guard at the door cantered down the hallway towards the guard barracks, where a frustrated Shining Armor was spending a week on rotation with his soldiers, rather than home with his new wife. He shot through the door like his tail was on fire, skidding to a halt in front of a bemused soldier.

He paused to catch his breath, then exclaimed loudly enough to wake the dead. “Shining Armor is to report to Princess Celestia’s chambers immediately.”

Among the guards, the word immediately had such special connotations that it was rarely used. Ordinarily, Shining would have put on his armor, run a brush through his mane, and maybe tried to drink a cup of coffee as he went to his post. Had the guard said ‘as soon as possible,’ he would have run a brush through his mane, thrown on his croupiere, and fitted his criniere as he went. But the guard said ‘immediately.’ Shining exploded out of his bunk in a full gallop, clearing the door to his room before his blanket even hit the floor.

He nearly bowled over the dozen guards who had accompanied Celestia as he charged into the hallway, the senior night barracks commander shouting orders amidst the sudden chaos.

The Princesses quickly walked through the castle to Celestia’s room, Twilight and Lyra trotting to keep up. They had never seen her this agitated before, and while Lyra knew the reason, Twilight and Luna were clueless.

When she had arrived at her door, Celestia paused to give the guard orders. “Once your relief gets here, go to the kitchens and tell the staff to bring breakfast for four up to my chambers. They are to leave it in the hallway.” Celestia looked at the stallion sternly. “Nopony else is to enter these chambers.”

The guard nodded, and held open the door. The alicorns went through, followed by the two unicorns. While Twilight and Lyra waited, the diarchs stepped through the antechambers to the hallway that led to the balcony.

“We are concerned about your demeanor,” Luna commented, as the door swung shut behind them. “Thou lookest ill at ease.”

“Sun first, then I will explain,” Celestia muttered, as she turned to the balcony. Luna’s ears flattened. Celestia was almost never that short, unless something were happening that threatened her herd. With a worried expression, Luna followed Celestia onto the balcony. She was not as good at hiding her expressions as Celestia, and hoped that nopony saw her concerned face as the sun broke the horizon.

When it was done, Celestia turned to her younger sister. “I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. There was an . . . unexpected event, and I’m not sure exactly how to handle it. It could put Equestria at risk, and needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. I shall discuss it with you and Lyra. I don’t know if Twilight should sit in on deliberations.

Luna frowned. “What manner of secret wouldst thou keep from thine student after the actions of her hoof struck down my—“

“This has nothing to do with Sombra,” Celestia chided. “I just wonder if she is ready to understand what leadership is really about?”

“We again restate our previous objection.” Luna looked at her sister thoughtfully. “Thou wert not so hesitant when thou commanded us to strike down the Unicorn Council. Clover certainly experienced thine leadership skills first-hoof. We wonder if she was cursing thy name as she—“

“ENOUGH!”

“Luna,” Celestia continued in a dangerously low tone, “you are trying my patience. While it is no doubt edifying to dig up the long-buried bones of the past, and rub my muzzle in the mistakes I’ve made, it will do nothing to solve the problem which now presents itself.” She advanced on Luna. “I should like your advice, but if you have nothing to offer other than thinly-veiled insults, I will throw you out of my chambers, and rely on my own judgment, flawed though you believe it.”

The two alicorns stood in silence for a moment, heads lowered, wings flared. Finally, Luna lowered her wings, and ran over to Celestia. She began nuzzling her sister’s neck.

“We were frightened,” she whispered. “We have always felt thy presence, but we could not when thou wert absent. We were afraid we had lost thee and our thoughts turned dark. We took what solace we could in our old armor, and Twilight Sparkle stayed by our side.

“We will cease our wrath until we and thee have solved thy dilemma, but we shall not forget it, sister. We shall not forget. We demand an audience when this crisis has passed.”

Celestia sighed. Only her sister would make a formal request for an audience. On one hoof, she would be happy if the events of the past stayed comfortably buried, but it was apparent Luna would not. Perhaps this was a peace offering; perhaps this would go a long way towards healing the wounds between them. “I accede.”

Luna nodded. “Very well. Tell us what hath transpired, and we shall honestly advise thee.”

“The spell worked perfectly. After I cast the spell, I had a difficult time getting to sleep. The sand was uncomfortable, and I felt like a foal on Hearth’s Warming Eve. Eventually, though, I did sleep, and I woke after the sun’s rays were warming my fur. But the beach which we supposed was deserted was not. There was a creature who was observing us. Lyra said it had been there since just before sunrise. It kept a close watch on us, although it did nothing.

“When I saw it, my first instinct was to scare it off, and I took an aggressive pose—more on reflex than thought, I would say. I was perfectly safe. It seemed to frighten the creature, but it was backed against a rock, and did not get to its hooves. When I relaxed my posture, it also seemed to relax, so it seems that the creature understood my gesture.

“Lyra persuaded me to allow her to approach the creature, so I gave her a simple protective cantrip which would also allow her to cross the barrier that the initial spell had created. She met it halfway, and although it seemed reluctant, it approached her. It stayed out of reach of its forelegs, perhaps as a peaceful gesture.

“The two of them allowed themselves to be examined by the other, still maintaining their distance. When they had finished, I asked Lyra if she would be willing to meet with the creature again in one cycle and she said she would. She wrote out her request in common, then Unicorn, although it understandably did not comprehend either. Finally, she drew out on the sand a simple pictogram representing the sunrise and the number of days, and the creature seemed to indicate that it would return.”

Luna looked thoughtfully at Celestia. “An interesting conundrum. We see why thou art indecisive. It has been long since ponies have treated with another race.”

“And the first time we have met one where we have no idea of its civilization,” Celestia reminded her. “We do not know how it lives, nor what it is capable of.”

“We believe that Twilight Sparkle should sit on deliberation. Thou knowst she is a true polymath, and if anypony is likely to offer useful insight, twould be her.” She paused for a moment. “Furthermore, dear sister, shouldst thou truly desire to continue her training, she must witness the difficult decisions thou makest. The guards have the reality of their vocation explained before they are granted their armor; why should she be any different?”

“She is like my daughter,” Celestia protested. “I had hoped to protect her from these harsh realities for longer. How do I know if she’s ready?”

“And yet thou had no qualms about—“ Luna snapped her jaw shut. “Forgive us, sister. We did not mean to be argumentative. Thou must trust her to fly on her own, now.”

Celestia sighed. “Very well. I hope breakfast is waiting. I am not looking forward to this meeting.”

Twilight’s ears perked up as a gentle knock sounded. A moment later, her brother opened the door. He was half-dressed—he was wearing his criniere, croupiere, flanchard, and pastern guards—while his squire stood by, surrounded by the rest of Shining’s armor.

A night guard pushed in a cart full of food while Twilight and her brother exchanged a look. Do you know what’s going on? No? Neither do I. Then the door closed as quietly as it had opened.

Twilight had asked Lyra what had happened, but she had just shook her head. A thousand scenarios were playing through Twilight’s head, each one worse than the last, and she was bordering on full-panic mode. Her restless pacing of the office had not gone unnoticed by Lyra. With the arrival of the food cart, Twilight finally had something to do.

She carefully levitated all the books and papers off the Princess’ worktable. The tablecloth was gently laid across the table, folds smoothed out, and each side examined to make certain it draped correctly.

Lyra watched impassively as the lavender mare laid out four place settings, frequently checking to determined if they were equidistant. Forks, spoons, knives, napkins, plates, and cups were placed, adjusted, inspected, re-located. The serving-trays came next; Twilight arranged them a dozen different ways before appearing satisfied. She began to move around the table, critically analyzing her work, a process she might have continued indefinitely if the chamber doors had not opened to admit the diarchs.

Celestia seated herself, absently lifting the covers off the serving platters and setting them aside. Emergency orders or no, the castle staff had outdone itself. There were thick slices of whole-grain bread, a tureen of oatmeal, trays of éclairs, cinnamon rolls, crepes, fruit salad, garden salad, and a selection of a dozen different teas. She absently waved a hoof, whereupon the other three sat down.

After Celestia had loaded her plate, filled a mug with tea, and submerged her crepes in maple syrup, the others loaded their plates and began eating. Twilight suddenly noticed the Princess hadn’t touched her food yet.

“I wonder if I shouldn’t just kill it?”

Luna and Lyra looked at her in surprise. Twilight, wondering whether she had committed a grave social faux-pas by eating before the Princess, just looked confused.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Sister, do not be over hasty. We feel that would be a rash decision.”

“Kill what?”

Celestia looked at them. “Suppose it does pose a grave threat to Equestrian society? Every moment we let it live is another moment that it might use to contact its rulers, who might decide to strike against us.”

“Yet, they could be allies. By what right dost thou discard that chance so quickly?”

“It didn’t look dangerous.”

“Will somepony tell me what’s going on?” Twilight looked at the other three. “Anypony?”

Celestia coughed politely. “Pardon us, my dear student. Of course you should know.” She summarized her prior conversation with Luna, and sighed. “We are caught between a river and a mountain, I fear.”

“There’s no need to get our tails knotted,” Twilight commented. “Before we rush to any hasty decisions we might regret later, we should have a nice, civil discussion. I, for one, would like to hear what Lyra has to say about the creature. After all, she interacted with it directly, and there is nothing better than a close, first-hoof account of the situation, as my brother would say.”

Celestia and Luna nodded together. Three sets of eyes turned to face Lyra, who suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She dabbed a bit of syrup off her muzzle, took a sip of tea, and when it became apparent she could delay no longer, began to talk.

To Twilight’s surprise, she did not speak with the usual lyrical rhythm of Ponyville, but with a clipped, precise speech, much like Shining Armor had adopted after his first year at West Hoof.

“It stands about as tall as you,” Lyra began, pointing a hoof at Celestia. “It never went to all fours, which leads me to conclude that it primarily moves on its hind legs. Its gait was clumsy, seeming like a stumbling fall countered by its forelegs.

“Its forelegs ended in flexible digits, much like a dragon’s, which do not appear to have claws. It was wearing clothing which covered most of its body, except for its head and hands. It had fur on its cheeks and chin, as well as a short-cropped mane. What little I could see of its forelegs had sparse fur. It may not tolerate cold well.

“Its skin color varied from a pinkish to a reddish color. I did not observe a tail, although it could have been concealed underneath its clothing. If it has one, it clearly does not use it for balance.

“What about its clothing?” Twilight interrupted.

“It was very well-made, although plain in color. It covered its upper body with a khaki shirt much like Daring Do’s, over which it wore a vest with pockets, arranged so as to be in reach of its hands. Its flanks and hind limbs were covered with a light-blue canvas which had brown stitching. It also had pockets. A brown belt was cinched around its waist, and it wore similarly-colored brown corsets over its hind pasterns, which extended almost to the fetlocks. When it fell backwards, I observed it had black horseshoes attached to its hoof-corsets, which had a yellow rectangle in the middle.

“It smelled fairly clean.” She paused, as if debating whether to continue. “To me, its scent seemed to be similar to a stallion’s. Like Big McIntosh, after he’s been the field all day.” Lyra blushed.

“It was carrying things,” Celestia reminded her. “Did you get a closer look at them?”

“Yes, but I am uncertain of their purpose. It had a green cylinder with a handle in one hand, which seemed to be made out of metal, and a folded tripod in the other. The green cylinder did not appear to fit the tripod. Perhaps it was carrying something in its pockets which was meant to be used with the tripod.”

“A telescope or an astrolabe? Maybe it was intending to observe the stars.”

Lyra looked at Twilight. “It could also have been an easel, a camera, or Celestia-knows-what.” Her eyes widened, and she looked at the Princess fearfully.

“I have heard worse,” Celestia commented dryly. “Whatever object was meant to go onto the tripod could have been in the woods, where the creature came from. A small telescope might have fit in the green tube, which might have been meant to protect the instrument.”

“We believe that is the most likely explanation. Everypony likes looking at the stars.” Luna got a wistful look in her eyes. “Was their night sky as beautiful as ours?”

“It was obscured by the shield,” Lyra said carefully. “I did not view it properly. I did see some shooting stars, but they moved very slowly. Some of them blinked red and green.”

“Getting back to the topic at hoof.” Celestia looked at Lyra. “What of its demeanor? I watched it recoil when I postured, but how did it react when you were close?”

“Its expressions were difficult to read. It had small eyes, and its ears appeared fixed, and its mouth was set back from its narrow muzzle. It was far less animated than ponies. Nevertheless, its body language suggested confusion or fear. As nervous as I was to approach it, it seemed to be even more afraid of me. It does not seem to be a bold creature, although its facial structure implies that it is not a prey animal. Our ears, eyes, and noses seem far better formed than its anatomy. I would place its facial structure somewhere between a juvenile dragon and a Diamond Dog.”

“Didst thou sense any auras or weave to it?”

“I did not, nor did I see anything that appeared to be an attempt to utilize magic. It never tried to pick up its dropped items with telekinesis. It seemed to primarily use its hands, although it appeared it could also use its mouth for gripping, if it so chose.”

Celestia nodded. “Do you have any more direct observations of the creature?”

“It attempted to puzzle out what I had written in the sand. In retrospect, I should not be surprised that it failed to recognize either common or Unicorn script, although it studied both carefully. It quickly understood the pictogram I drew. I feel it is likely at least as intelligent as a griffon.” She took a sip of her tea.

“I don’t think it’s a threat,” Twilight mused, looking at Celestia. “It was alone on the beach, and fearful of you. To me, it seems a sign it was either ill, or had been banished from its herd.”

“We do not know what type of society it has,” the Princess reminded her. “Dragons prefer to remain alone, except during their migrations and their mating. They are no less of a threat.”

“It clearly has some sort of society.” Lyra set her teacup back down. “It was wearing clothing which fit its form quite well, it had its corseted shoes, it was wearing glasses, and it was carrying manufactured objects.”

“All the things it had may not have been its to begin with,” Celestia objected. “Maybe it stole them. Dragons have their hordes, after all.”

“Tis true dragons be fearsome creatures. Yet, their treasures are oft unfit for their size, as a dragon hath wisdom enough to not prey upon its own kin, rather seeking after those who be smaller and weaker.”

“For as cowed as it was, it did seem more predatory than not. The creature might hunt by crouching in bushes and springing upon its prey.”

“My scouts reported no structures of any type on the island,” Celestia commented. “There were a large variety of creatures, most smaller than a pony, but none of them were sapient, nor did they in any way resemble the strange creature we met on the beach. The only thing we observed which seemed artifice was a long rectangular clearing in the forest. Its borders were not even, although it seemed more regular than one would expect a natural feature to be.”

“If there were no structures, and the creature did not use magic, how did it get there?” Twilight looked at Lyra sharply. “This is an island, correct? Were there low enough tides that it could have simply walked from elsewhere?”

“My scouts reported that they did not observe any tides whatsoever. There were two other islands located within eyesight, one to the south of it, and one to the north. Each was more than ten miles away.”

“Perhaps it flew,” Lyra commented. “Its wings could have been hidden beneath its clothing.”

“We know of no winged creature which would wish to bind its wings in any manner. We ask thee, Lyra Heartstrings, how thou wouldst endure having thine legs bound, or thine horn sealed?”

“Point taken.” Lyra shivered. “It could have swum from one of the other islands, or it could have even taken a small boat. We didn’t see it, but it might have walked from the other side of the island. It also could have teleported itself to the island, although I feel the beach would have been a smarter choice, unless it visited the island often enough.”

“It must have had some kind of stable on the island,” Celestia said. “It did not look to me as if it had enough equipment to stay for very long. Of course, we do not know the survival requirements of the creature.”

“Didst thine scouts report anything unusual about the night sky?”

“Well, let me see. They did report that the moon did not keep a good schedule. They observed a few easily-recognizable constellations—slightly changed because of the planet’s different location—and while their pattern remained consistent, they moved across the sky. They also reported slow-moving shooting stars, most of which were red and green, some of them flashing.”

“Whomever tends to their night sky is not careful, unless those meteors are meant to guide. We know that certain stars and constellations must remain in their proper places to serve as an aid to navigators.”

“What if there was some reason why the night sky had gone off-kilter?” Twilight looked at the others excitedly. “Maybe the creature went to the island to get observations! It might be a student or a scientist. I bet it was sent by its mentor to study!” Her eyes sparkled. “Ooh, I can’t wait to meet it! I bet it knows so many things!”

“I think the topic is veering off-course,” Celestia stated. “While it might be worthwhile to speculate why the creature was on the island, the fact is, it was. I am not interested if it is an astronomer; I am more concerned with determining if it or its kin are a threat to ponykind. Should we return to the island, capture it, and interview it at length?”

“Depends on how important a creature it is. To use Ponyville as an example, one could capture any of dozens of different ponies, and nopony would particularly notice,” Lyra said coldly. “Cherry Berry, Sunny Rays, Zecora, Vera, Shoeshine, Allie Way, Raindrops, Boxxy Joe—nopony would take particular note if they went missing. Cherry might have had a ballooning mishap, Zecora could have been killed by any number of things in the Everfree, Raindrops might have flown into a mountain, Allie may have moved out of town. Nopony would be suspicious. Yet, if the Mayor disappeared, or any of the Elements of Harmony, Twilight, myself, or any foal, we’d tear the town apart looking for them. We’d search the Everfree, Froggy Bottom Bog, Ghastly Gulch, and anywhere else they might have gone.

“If this creature is a loner, or if it is insignificant in whatever sort of society it has, nothing will come looking. If that is the case, the safest choice is to neutralize it quickly, before it has a chance to report what it has found. But if it has powerful friends, or is somepony’s special pet, we would have to answer for what we have done.”

“Tis not so,” Luna interjected. “Our sister might send a sunbeam down the channel. Twould put an end to the island and the creature, and would so completely destroy the weave that nopony could reverse the spell.”

Twilight looked at Celestia sharply. “You can do that?”

The Princess nodded.

“But—that’s murder. It would kill the creature, and everything else on the island!”

“Twilight Sparkle.” Celestia was calm; she used the same even voice she had used when Twilight was a filly. “With the fate of Equestria on one hoof, and the life of but a single sapient creature on the other, how could I make any other choice?”

Twilight flattened her ears and moved back on the bench, as far from the Princess as she could. “But—“

“It is not a decision I would make lightly,” she continued softly, “nor is it a decision I might not later regret.” She sighed. “You are young. You have not seen what I have seen, and I pray that you never will. Nopony should have to make the decision whether one lives or dies, yet sometimes we have no say in the matter. Sometimes circumstances are what they are; sometimes negotiations fail. Perhaps you should ask Rainbow Dash about the true meaning of loyalty. Better yet, ask Applejack if she had to choose between you or her sister whom she would pick.” The diarch chuckled darkly. “She can’t easily lie, after all.”

Twilight looked around at the other two ponies frantically. To her, this was a major shift in her thinking. She could not imagine any caring creature causing deliberate harm to another, or even worse, killing another. Yet—were her hooves not stained with Sombra’s blood? While she had not directly caused his death, she had found the crystal heart, and had ordered Spike to take it back down to its plinth.

At the time, she had been so concerned with not disappointing the Princess that she had not really given the matter any thought. Her brother was safe, Cadance was recovering her health, the crystal ponies were free from Sombra’s rule, and she had been more worried about failing the Princess’ test, anyway.

But she’d had nightmares afterwards. Frightful dreams of Sombra chasing her, of being trapped forever in a crystal prison, of hearing Sombra’s screams in the throes of death. She’d rationalized it, but now she wondered how the others felt. Applejack, she was sure, would have just accepted it and moved on. Perhaps Fluttershy would have mourned, but her experience with animals had no doubt inured her to the harsh realities of life. Twilight knew that Fluttershy often caught fish for injured carnivores without any regret whatsoever.

Rainbow Dash probably didn’t spend much time thinking about it at all. She wasn’t very introspective. Pinkie Pie wore her heart on her hoof; she was as bubbly and cheerful as ever, so no harm done there. It had probably seemed a game to her. Rarity—who knew what Rarity thought? Twilight was fairly certain that Rarity had a different face for every occasion. As dramatic as she was, there was a core of steel inside that unicorn, an unbending integrity only Rainbow Dash could match. She would fuss over the small things all day long, but never say a word about anything major. Despite her aversion to dirt, she had run an entire race with Sweetie Belle while covered from head to hoof in mud, while wearing Applejack’s sweaty hat.

But what about Spike? Was he still too young to know what he had done? Or did dreams of Sombra haunt his sleep? She realized that she knew too little about what went on inside the dragon’s head, and vowed to speak with him when she got back to Ponyville—if, that is, she could come up with a resolution to her own problem.

It wasn’t the fact that Sombra was dead. That thought hardly troubled her at all, and that was what bothered her. Was she a bad pony for not caring? Shouldn’t all life—even Sombra’s—be sacrosanct? If Discord could be reformed, why not Sombra? This was a subject she felt deserved some more examination, yet there were no books in the library which would provide an answer.

Celestia and Luna showed no concern for the discussion at hoof, and that worried Twilight. They were no more emotional than if they had been deciding whether to order hay fries or a salad. After a few thousand years of leadership, that was to be expected, Twilight decided. As much as her view of the diarchs was favorable, was it reasonable to believe that neither had killed before, or at least ordered a killing? Was it rational to think that the Royal Guards just stood around in their polished golden barding, holding spears and looking handsome? Surely they had been used before. Surely, as a herd, their spears were stained with blood.

But what of Lyra? As much of a flake as the citizens of Ponyville believed her to be, she, too, had no emotion. Was she hiding it? Was she disgusted on the inside that the conversation had taken this turn? Or was this nothing new? There was a side to Ponyville’s busking musician that Twilight had never imagined. Did anypony know more about her? She was often in the company of Bon Bon. Did the two of them sit around speaking of murder?

Lyra, I hear Mayor Mare has just decided to enact a new tax on confectioners.

Well, that isn’t a problem, we’ll just have her killed.

But Lyra! Are you sure that’s wise?

Nopony can stop me! I will just tell the Princess it was self-defense. I am a member of the Royal Guard. Who will tell me no? Can I have another candy?

Oh, Lyra, you’re so powerful and decisive! You’re so sociopathic! Oh, hold me! Kiss me! Make sweet, sweet—

Twilight blinked. That had been weird. The other three ponies were still sitting around the table, an ordinary breakfast table, discussing murder. Lyra was eating another crepe while pondering justifiable equicide. Luna was watching her intently, while mulling over murder. Celestia was nibbling a strawberry, scenes of solar strikes playing through her mind.

No.

This was all wrong.

There was a better answer. Surely there was.

Is there? Who killed Sombra? You killed Sombra!

Twilight began to sound a keening wail. Her whole reality had just shifted, and she was not satisfied with her new perception. It felt like she had been peacefully sitting on a sheet of ice, blissfully unaware of her peril, and a malevolent mare had tipped the ice, and now she was sliding towards the icy water, her hooves scrabbling fruitlessly at the smooth surface.

This was worse than when she had imagined being sent back to Magic Kindergarten. For the second time in her life, she began to wonder if the Princess was always right.

She was unaware of the concerned look on Lyra’s face, nor the glances the two alicorns shared. She vaguely heard Celestia mouth a concerned phrase, and Luna’s quiet ‘wait.’

And then, miraculously, the ice was level again. Her hooves had found purchase. Her internal debate had been settled. A small part of her brain still rebelled, but it was drowned out by mental doors slamming shut, by the inevitability of paths not taken.

This was what it really meant to lead. Decisions were made for the benefit of the herd, not of the individual. When it came down to it, there had not been a single second that she thought of Sombra until after he had died. Her brother, her sister-in-law, and everypony in the Crystal Empire had been more important than the corrupted unicorn. Maybe she had known the moment she touched the crystal heart, maybe not, but she did not second-guess her decision until long afterward, and she had already concluded that she had made the right choice.

She felt the same rightness in this decision. This was for the good of all the citizens of Equestria.

“I think there is much we could discover from this creature,” she began. “I believe it would be best to learn, inasmuch as is possible, its language and customs. Now that it is aware we exist, it may have already informed its rulers of our existence, and it is possible that they might find a way to come here. If we have already established a dialogue, we will no doubt find ourselves in a stronger position than if we ignore this opportunity, and they discover us anyway.

“More importantly, I believe that by understanding it, we will understand ourselves better. From speaking with dragons, we have learned how we appear to them; the same goes with griffons, and, to a lesser extent, Diamond Dogs. Every creature has a different culture, and different outlook on life; how much different must this alien’s perspective be? We might be able to use lessons we learn from dialogue with this creature next time we need to negotiate with another race.

“Finally, we might learn technological skills which we have not developed, or are not aware even exist. Everypony knows that we learned the craft of metallurgy from the dragons. Who knows what we might learn from this creature? If they have magic, they may have discovered spells we have not. If they do not have magic, they might have devised technology which could be beneficial to earth ponies, for example, or even to simpler creatures.

“We have learned, as a society, the bitter lessons of mistrust and disharmony, of not working together, and of ignoring opportunities which present themselves, even unexpectedly, and we have learned that when we work together, as a unified herd, we can accomplish great things. Oftentimes, those whom we do not understand, those who remain isolated from the herd, can be a source of wisdom and knowledge, and we should not fear them unless we have reason to do so. In my own experience, I, along with the other citizens of Ponyville, feared and shunned Zecora because she was different than the rest of us, and it took the courage of a filly to seek her out, and bless us with her knowledge. Can we not be braver than Applebloom?

“But whatever choice you make, whatever decision you feel is best for Equestria, make it now. If you believe it to be a threat, every moment that creature remains at large is a moment more our society is at risk, a moment in which it may begin to find its way here, alone or with an army following it. I have heard it said that in wartime any decision is better than no decision at all. Princess, your leadership has turned Equestria into the paradise it deserved; now I defer to your judgement.”

The alicorn looked at Lyra.

“I agree with Twilight. I have my thoughts, my reasons for wanting to continue contact. I believe that this creature wishes us no ill. But you have the benefit of centuries of leadership; you have more wisdom that I will ever possess. You may make whatever decision you choose without my opposition.”

“We do not see eye-to-eye with thee on all occasions, dear sister. Yet, in this matter, our voice too must fall silent. We know that thou wishest no more than the peaceful existence of our society, and that thy choices must be made to that end. We vow upon pain of banishment that we shall not publicly question or contradict thy decision, but shall support thee in full.”

Celestia nodded. “I had not expected to reach a consensus by default. I feel that the choice of inaction does not leave oneself free from blame, were that on anypony’s mind.” She looked at the other three. “Do you make this decision from cowardice? Know that if it is a poor decision, all four will share in the blame, yet if it is wise, only I shall receive the credit.”

When no objections were forthcoming, she stepped from the table. “Very well. My decision has been made.”

Author's Notes:

As always, a big thanks to my prereaders
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