977

Like many good stories, this one begins with a Viking raid.

The village of Salt-Trough was really more of a hamlet with aspirations. It also had the misfortune of lying on the east coast of the Crystal Highlands during the Viking Age.

The raiders had tracked north, seeking fresh towns and easy plunder. Salt-Trough was more of a resupply run than a proper raid. While the town was humble, it was also hardly a new settlement, and that spoke of capable fishers and bountiful harvests. And if the northmen happened to find any treasure lying around during that resupply, so much the better.

The dragon-headed longships weighed anchor, and a party of the least imposing raiders clambered onto the beach, to trade if they could and take if they must. (The trade would be supplies in exchange for the village not being burnt down, which they felt was entirely fair.) But none of the locals dared to come out and meet them, and so they went back to the boats to get more hands and go for the messier option.

Only then did the villagers meet them, led in surprisingly ferocious combat by a young woman. It was said that with the setting sun at her back, her hair seemed to catch fire, and her eyes glowed with the only gold the raiders took from Salt-Trough that day. The ferocious resistance proved greater than they ever anticipated for such a small settlement.

The northmen ran back to their boats, seeking easier claims, and the young woman who organized the militia was hailed as a hero. While she would be forgotten by history, generations quietly shoving her into progressively smaller footnotes, the oral history of Salt-Trough still remembers her. Much has changed in the centuries, but one detail that has held firm is how from that day forward, a tuft of her hair forever stayed slicked up with raider blood that never washed out.

---

Today

Celestia wasn’t just lucky enough to have her dream job as a high school principal (even if that dream had gotten more surreal in recent years.) She was also one of the world’s natural early risers… even if that relied on the sun and left her in need of an alarm during the colder months. Still, once the light peeked out from her windowsill, she was up and about in a matter of minutes, which had always been a point of contention with her sister.

(Of course, Luna was able to keep functioning past 10 PM without needing dangerous amounts of coffee, which Celestia had come to envy in her college years, so there was that.)

Her morning routine was a well-worn groove, even on a weekend. As such, it was only at the tail end of brushing her teeth when Celestia noticed something amiss.

She stared at her own reflection for the better part of a minute, finding it almost unrecognizable. Watching her shaking hand in the mirror hit such a strong sense of dissociation, she expected it to lunge out and grab her wrist.

Eventually, Celestia shook herself out of her shock, cleaned up the toothpaste leaking out of her mouth, and headed for her bedroom. There was one person in the world she trusted for matters of such incredible urgency. She paced in front of her bed as she waited for the answer to her phone call.

The “What” came with familiar bile.

“Good morning, Luna,” she said with calm she didn’t feel.

“Celestia. It is before noon. On a Saturday.” Luna’s anger intensified with every point, until “We have an agreement” came out at a half-shout.

This didn’t deter Celestia. Frankly, she’d expected worse. “So you know I wouldn’t be calling if it weren’t important.”

After a deep breath, the faint squeak of mattress springs spoke of Luna flopping back in bed. “Fine. What is it?”

Celestia wasn’t able to keep the astonishment out of her voice. “My hair is behaving.” She caught a glimpse of her cowlick-free coiffure in her vanity mirror and flinched away.

Silence answered her. Just as she was about to ask if Luna had fallen back asleep, her sister spoke. “I still have those photos from your sophomore year. You will never find all the backups.”

“All of my hair is behaving.”

“I’m very happy for you, Tia, but—” Luna cut off her sardonic reply. “Wait, all of it all of it?”

Celestia took a deep breath of her own. “Every. Strand.”

Another stretch of silence, if a shorter one. More quietly, Luna said, “I remember the hair gel experiments.”

“I still have those photos,” noted Celestia, because one good bit of saber-rattling deserved another.

Luna groaned, and more squeaks sounded in the background. “Damn it, fine, I’m getting out of bed.”

Celestia’s eyes widened, and her pacing halted. “I wasn’t going to ask that much.”

“I might as well,” said Luna, padding her way across her apartment. “I’m awake enough as it— Holy shit.”

“You too?”

“It’s like I’m missing an ear. It just looks wrong.” After a moment, Luna muttered, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“What do you think it means?” asked Celestia.

“You’ll have to ask Sunset Shimmer about that. Personally? I’m going to see what all the fuss is about Saturday mornings.”

That got a blink. “Really?”

Celestia could almost hear her sister’s smirk. “No way I’m getting back to sleep after that.”

---

When the time came to contact Sunset, Celestia did so relatively discreetly. Canterlot High had an internal system of landlines for this very purpose, and had held onto them since the days when Celestia was the one getting discreetly called to Principal Potts’s office.

Soon enough, the girl walked into her office, clearly concerned. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

Celestia nodded, the picture of composure. (At the very least, she wasn’t pawing at her scalp every five minutes the way she had the day she’d spotted the change.) “Yes. I felt the last thing you needed in your last weeks at CHS was the rumor mill wondering why I was calling you in through the PA system.”

Sunset shrugged, still wary. “Well, you contained it to Mr. Doodle’s calc class, for whatever’s that worth.”

That prompted a wince. Celestia should have double-checked the girl’s schedule; nothing that required delicacy survived contact with Cranky. “My apologies, but… well, you haven’t been easy to pin down through other means lately.”



Celestia poked her head into the library. There were Sunset and her friends, discussing something while huddled around one of the tables. She moved closer, seeing they were looking at surveying maps older than she was.

She cleared her throat. “Sunset, could I—”

The terrified look in the girl’s eyes cut her off. “Sorry, ma’am, but can it wait? Watermelody found an old script in the prop room and, long story short, we need to locate a geomantically significant rock. If we don’t find it and move it six inches to the left in the next few hours, dread Tambelon will descend upon this world.”

After a blink, Celestia said, “And that would be bad?”

Sunset grimaced. “How do you feel about zombie movies?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Celestia dipped her head. “It can wait. Best of luck, girls.”



Canterlot Park was often beautiful, weather permitting, and it certainly was today. Still, the clouds over Celestia’s mood made everything a bit more dismal. Spotting Sunset and only one friend helped; hopefully that meant she didn’t have any magical nonsense to deal with.

“Sunset!” Celestia called, jogging up to them. “I’ve been meaning to—”

“Sorry, Principal Celestia, I need to take a rain check.” Sunset frowned, head on a swivel. “There’s a possible interdimensional rift somewhere along the usual jogging route. and we need to track it down before anyone gets hurt.”

“Or anything from the pony side,” added Fluttershy.

“Right, or some monstrosity from the Everfree getting shot or something.”

“I see…” Celestia sighed and nodded. “Well, good luck.”



“Sunset! I was hoping we could—”

Sunset didn’t even stop, running past Celestia and towards the school’s basement, an uncapped spray can in each hand.

Her battle cry explained everything: “SPIDEEEEERS!”



“Yeah, it’s been a wild week,” said Sunset. “We’re hoping this is the magic leak’s last hurrah and not a permanent step up.”

“In any case, now that you aren’t scrambling to save the day…” Celestia paused. Sunset’s phone didn’t chime with any messages announcing the latest magical catastrophe. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Well, I assume you can tell what the problem is.”

Sunset looked around, brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh… Is this a trick question?”

“It is not.”

After a few more moments, Sunset frowned. “With all due respect, Principal Celestia, I had kind of hoped the vague intimations were more a pony-you thing.”

Celestia’s eyebrows rose. She pointed at the problem area. “The cowlick?”

“You don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

Celestia normally loved seeing the moment of realization as understanding struck a student. Now it just felt hollow. “Oh. Huh.” Sunset brought a hand to her chin. “Huh.”

“It’s rather fortuitous that you mentioned ‘pony-me.’” Celestia was… vaguely aware of her counterpart in Equestria. And of Equestria. If nothing else, the multiple Twilight Sparkles had made the base concept clear, as had Luna’s lifelong love of science fiction. “I suspect she’s involved somehow.”

Sunset’s next epiphany was much more welcome. Confusion had given way to an ironclad determination that meant the girl had put together a plan. “I think you’re right, but she’s the one who should explain. I’ll contact Princess Twilight immediately.” More quietly, she added, “Probably get a second opinion on the week from Tartarus while I’m at it.”

“Thank you,” said Celestia.

“Sure thing, ma’am. I’ll keep you posted.” Sunset offered an awkward grin. “Uh, spiders permitting.”

---

The location of the portal was one of the details Celestia had osmosed since Princess Twilight’s visit to this world. Still, standing in front of the Wondercolt statue and expecting people to come out of it was surreal.

“Okay,” said Sunset Shimmer, reading out of a thick book,“Starlight’s putting the journal on the portal now. They should be coming in now.”

Hearing the particulars made it stranger. Seeing herself walk out of the dais even more so. And Luna for that matter. The Lunas were almost eerily similar, from the skeptical looks to the outfits. The Equestrian Luna was wearing a suitcoat that predated her counterpart’s by about two centuries and a pair of riding boots that raised several questions, but other than that, they were mirror images of one another, including the lack of cowlick.

Celestia’s own counterpart, though…

“I knew you had embraced abdication with both wings, Sister,” said the other Luna, the capital letter clearly audible, “but it is another thing to see it illustrated so dramatically.”

Celestia had worn one of her usual pantsuits. Her counterpart was sporting sweatpants, orange Crocs, and a ratty old T-shirt that greatly resembled something in the back of Celestia’s own closet that she got while at Stanpferd. The only difference was that this one read “CSGU” in that serifed font that every college shirt had. The woman wearing it shrugged, her hair showing no sign of pricking up. “I take no shame in getting a chance to relax for the first time in over a millennium. I shudder to imagine what the portal would have forced me into this time last year.”

The other Luna rolled her eyes, then fully turned her attention to her counterpart, who’d been silently assessing her the whole time. Each raised an eyebrow, synchronized so closely it was like they’d practiced.

“So,” said the (former?) princess. “The ape.”

“The horse,” answered Celestia’s own Luna.

The two of them stared for long enough that Celestia spotted Sunset Shimmer started edging towards them. Thankfully, before the girl could embarrass herself, the two nodded, their mouths splitting into identical crescent grins.

“I trust you know a public house of good quality and ill repute where we may continue this conversation?” said the other Luna.

Celestia’s made a show of stroking her chin. “I may know a place or two.”

“Then lead on, friend ape. We have much to discuss, and I would see the storied power of the faculty lot for myself.”

For some reason, that got Sunset clearing her throat.

“Don’t get arrested, you two,” Celestia couldn’t help but say. “I’d really rather not have to explain any of this to… well, anyone.”

The Lunas traded a flat look, not even hesitating as they made their way towards Luna’s car. “She has so little faith in us,” said Celestia’s sister.

“Indeed,” said the other. “As though we had aught to fear from your constabulary.”

Celestia sighed. That was her conscience clear, if nothing else. She turned to her own counterpart, who bore a calm smile that belied her outfit. “I imagine you have many questions,” said the visitor.

“Honestly, this has already answered more than it raised.” Celestia tried to bite off the next sentence, but it had to be said. “And I have to agree with your Luna. Retirement hit you like a truck.”

That got a slight nod and a familiar facade of patient wisdom hiding total incomprehension.

“A train?” she tried.

That broke the mask and got her counterpart to blush a bit. “Ah. I admit, it has. And that’s a helpful reminder that I can’t rely on that expression with myself.”

“I’ve worn it too many times while Sunset’s informed me of the latest magical disaster she has to thwart.” Both Celestias turned to Sunset, who’d continued edging away and had made it halfway across the front yard before their gazes pinned her down like a butterfly in a display case. “It’s alright, Sunset, you can go.”

That got a stiff nod. “Ma’am.” She glanced at the other Celestia and caught herself halfway through a bow. “Your… Ma’am.” She then proceeded to flee the scene.

The other Celestia smiled as she watched Sunset go. “She has grown much, but sometimes there is wisdom in stepping back.”

“Or running for your life.”

“Or that. I forgave her during the Memory Stone incident, but I’m not sure if she’s ever fully forgiven herself.”

A thought occurred, and Celestia had to voice it. “Either you’re handling this better than I am, or that mask is better than I think. Have you ever met yourself before?”

“Once or twice, but they were also alicorns. This is my first time coming to this world.” The other Celestia looked herself, lingering on her fingers as she flexed them, then the toes visible through the holes in her shoes. “I’ve met several species with hands, but these ‘feet’ are… novel. I do agree that the casual attire says much about my mindset after abdication.”

“About that. I…” Celestia trailed off, frowning.

She then got to see her own “I’m here for you” face. “Yes?”

Celestia shook her head, unable to hold back the grin. “I’ll be honest, I had this whole speech ready about the sheer difference in scale between the two of us, but it won’t have the same effect when you’re wearing what I would on an especially lazy Sunday.”

That got a solemn nod. “I imagine I have much to answer for, yes. Sunset was a deep regret for many years. Seeing her return as a thief in the night was its own breed of horror. Seeing her return and seek forgiveness…” The other woman took Celestia’s hands in her own and smiled. “Twilight Sparkle is not the only one I owe thanks there. You looked after Sunset when I could not.”

Celestia dipped her head. She couldn’t feel like she’d earned the gratitude pouring out of her counterpart. “Not actually what I had in mind, and most of the credit goes to her friends anyway.”

“They do seem to be remarkable young women in any world, yes.”

“It has been a joy seeing Sunset go from someone so twisted by anger to the kind of inspiring figure I always knew she could be.” Celestia took a step back, breaking the hand hold. “But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

This time, the other woman let her incomprehension show. “Oh?”

“It’s about us. You, me, the other Celestias.”

The other Celestia tilted her head. “I hadn’t realized this world had contact with others beyond Equestria.”

“It hasn’t. Not that I”m aware of, anyway.” Celestia turned towards her own car. “Come on, I need to share some family history…”

---

Changing into something similarly casual only seemed fair once Celestia got home. It was that or force the sun god into something more professional, and that didn’t seem like it would go better.

(The other Celestia had mentioned the whole “moving the sun” thing casually on the drive over. Celestia was just grateful it had been at a stoplight.)

Once they were both comfortable, Celestia began with the photos on her phone. There were certainly plenty to be found of Luna and her alike.

“Goodness,” said the visitor. “Carrying your own crowns all this time. When did they first appear?”

“For us, practically from when we had enough hair for it to be noticeable. For the family...” Celestia got up from her couch. “Well, let me get the album.”

The family album was a well-worn three-ring binder, each plastic page full of assorted photos dating back decades. Celestia’s mother had entrusted it to her when she moved out, and she kept reminding herself to print out some of the more momentous memories on her phone to add to the back. (She never did, but still.)

Once she sat back down, Celestia flipped to an image of her as a toddler smiling at the camera in the lap of an older woman with her pale skin tone. Hints of four different colors could still be spotted in her grandmother’s hair, and a tuft of hair stuck up from each scalp. “It skips a generation sometimes. It did with Mom. But there’s always a Celestia.”

“I see,” said the other Celestia, starring at the picture. After a moment, she asked, “And a Luna?”

“And a Luna.” Flipping through the next few pages brought Celestia to a picture of a baby Luna staring at an older blue woman, the two of them delivering eerily similar severe looks to one another. “Here she is with Great-Aunt Lulu.”

“I never did rescind her royal authority. It wasn’t my place to do so.” The visitor shook her head. “The implications here… this must go back centuries.”

Celestia nodded. “Well before any photos, at least. If the family ever bothered with numbering us, they stopped long ago. Granny told me the first Celestia held off raiders on the coast of Scoltland in the late tenth century.”

“And when are we currently?”

Right, different worlds probably meant different calendars. “Early in the twenty-first.”

The other Celestia looked off into the distance for a few moments before nodding. “That would line up with the incident with the dragon of the Crystalline Mountain. I was so young…”

She shook her head. “In any case, I had never imagined this kind of sympathetic bond might form, least of all with the crown itself. Goodness knows I haven’t had the same one over the years. Gold may never tarnish, but it can certainly dent. And there were times when it wasn’t appropriate for me to drape myself in gold and gems in my castle on the hill. Wars, economic downturns, that nasty strain of anhedral blight sweeping across the rock farms in the 760s.”

“Rock farms?” asked Celestia.

Another shake of the head. “A matter for another time. I imagine you have many questions for me.”

“Well…” Celestia did, yes, but many of them felt needlessly petty when seeing the other woman in person. She’d taken herself to task many times before, but it was different when she was sitting on the other side of the couch. She took a moment to sort through the possibilities. “When I found out you had abdicated, I had wondered why, but then I put myself in your shoes.” After a beat, she added, “Horseshoes?”

That got a smile from the other Celestia. “The technical term is ‘hipposandals.’”

“Anyway, I love my job, but imagining having to do it for even a hundred years, much less a thousand…” Celestia shuddered. “You were looking for an excuse, weren’t you?”

The other Celestia raised her chin, the model of poise and dignity. “I would have kept serving Equestria for a thousand years more if I thought I was still the best mare for the job.”

“Very dutiful. Very admirable.” Celestia gave herself a sidelong smirk. “Completely avoiding a yes or no. You are a career politician.”

The visitor answered with a rueful grin. “An occupational hazard of sorts, yes. And recent years made it clear that I’m not the best mare, not anymore. The world has moved on. Old foes have learned my weaknesses and new ones have cropped up in my blind spots. Institutions grew calcified, my ponies became insular, our relations with the other nations atrophied before I even noticed… The throne needed a pair of fresh eyes on it.” She scowled, and iron entered her tone in a way that spoke of those centuries of rule. “I will not apologize for stepping down when it was the best thing I could do.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Celestia found her own tone shifting to the one she’d used to soothe many a bruised teenage ego. And Luna’s. “I’m just trying to understand.”

The other Celestia cleared her throat. “Ah, of course. Forgive me, the topic’s come up more than once since I first announced my intent to cede the throne.”

Celestia nodded. “I can imagine.”

“If I may ask one more question?”

“As many as you’d like. If this is as half as strange for you as it is for me, you must have dozens.”

“A vast family I never knew I had?” The visitor looked at the photo album with clear wonder in her eyes. “You have no idea. But…” Her eyes squeezed shut. “My Luna fell to darkness and madness some scant years after the incident that crowned your ancestor.” She turned to Celestia, looking more genuinely afraid than Celestia had ever seen her. “Have any of her counterparts… I’m not sure what the equivalent would even be.”

“I’m no family historian, but I know mine had some… difficulties after I graduated from high school. I never got the full details.” Celestia frowned as a thought occurred. “Knowing what I do now, there might have even been some magic involved.” It gave way to a smile. “But she did have friends to get her through it. By senior year, she’d really come into her own.”

“Ah, what could have been…”

Silence lingered for an awkward stretch. Celestia cleared throat. “So…”

“Yes?”

“Should…” She hesitated. She didn’t want to ask; that would make it real. But she had to. “Should I consider retirement soon?”

The other Celestia looked at her in confusion. “Do you want to?”

“No!” Celestia didn’t even realize she’d gotten to her feet until she found herself standing. She cleared her throat and sat back down. “Just because I don’t want to do it for a hundred years doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy my work.”

That got a shrug. “Then don’t retire. If our worlds were so closely linked that my stepping down required you to follow suit, you’d be in a position of much higher authority. Though I will say, out of all the hats I’ve worn over the centuries, golden and otherwise, school headmare has always been one of the most personally rewarding.”

Celestia nodded. “Part of why I don’t want to give it up. It’s just odd to know that somewhere out there, there’s another me who’s lounging on a beach and eyeing up the cabana boys.”

“Well, I don’t know about that last part,” the other her said with a smile. “Luna and I have moved to a lovely little port town in Bittish Columbia. Many qualities to recommend it, but not any cabanas I’m aware of.”

“Still, it feels like the end of an era. Appropriate, I suppose, with Sunset and her friends graduating so soon.” Celestia’s eyes panned up to the ceiling, considering the coming year. “I don’t know if I’m going to miss all the magical mayhem or if I’m afraid it will keep going without them here to stop it.”

“Ah. Hmm.”

She turned back to her guest. “What?”

“Now that you mention it, that is a concern. I wouldn’t dream of disrupting the bond Sunset and the Twilight Sparkle of my world have forged, but we may need to make preparations for you in case of emergency. Magic continuing to leak into this world should be attracted to the concentrations already present, but that may include residual power at your campus.”

Celestia jerked a thumb at her backyard. “Apparently some of it hit a watering can in the greenhouse some months ago.”

Her counterpart grimaced. “Oh dear. I’ll make sure you get an entangled journal as soon as I get back then.”

Celestia blinked. A weight came off her chest than she hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. “I… didn’t realize how much I was worried about that. Thank you.”

“I may not be on the throne anymore, but I do still enjoy helping creatures.” The other Celestia winked. “And as Luna often reminds me, the first step to helping others is helping myself.”

---

Dear Princess Celestia (emerita),

Thank you again for your visit, and for getting me this journal. It’s funny. It was a bit like talking to Granny Tia again and a bit like spending time with the older sister I never had. You’re welcome back any time you feel like visiting the universe next door. Just let me know ahead of time so I can clear my schedule.

My hair’s still behaving itself. My reflection still shocks me sometimes, but I’m getting used to it. Slowly. It still feels like I lost something. Not quite precious, but something that’s been a part of me so long that it’s odd to keep going without it. I can only imagine how odd it must be for you.

As for the offer to visit you in Equestria, I may just take you up on it this summer, at least once Princess Twilight gets back to you on how it will affect the stability between worlds. And if our little sisters will behave themselves better than they did here. I’m still not sure where they got that motorcycle, but my Luna insists on coming to school in it.

I am not jealous of how much the kids seem to like it, no matter what she claims.

Suffice to say, I look forward to our future correspondence. Trading the hair I knew for someone who understands me as deeply as you do is an exchange I’m happy to make.

Your friend,
Celestia