The sun looked out to the horizon; the evening light was fading, and a darkness loomed. A somber yellow shine was scattered across the landscape, reminding Celestia of one word—one name—that had been crossing her mind all day. Earlier that morning, she thought, the sun had been shining much brighter than usual—her head turned. The night had come to relieve her of the day’s burden, and the sun was soon forgotten.

‘Thank you, sister,’ Celestia said softly, turning her head back to the front. She could see her city, her domain, full of citizens who looked up to her. To all of them, she sighed.

‘Is something the matter, dear sister?’ Luna replied. She calmly walked to Celestia’s side, who then raised her head to the azure above her. ‘The sky is so clear tonight. The stars usually keep us company.’

‘Yes, yes. They disappear one night, and the next they reappear. It feels like a mere illusion, don’t you think?’ Celestia paused for a moment, and closed her eyes. ‘There seem to be more illusions in my life than just stars. Things that I think exist one moment, but disappear the next.’

‘Sister,’ Luna replied, laying a careful hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. ‘You seem tired. Retreat to your chambers and get some rest—you’ll feel better tomorrow morning, when you can see your beautiful sun once more.’

The sun looked out to the horizon; the evening light had faded, and so had the sun’s gleam over Equestria. The darkness had taken hold. The name came again to Celestia, and she felt pride—a tear began to form in her eye, mixed with the salt of her wounds and another, more foreign substance... she knew. Every name she could remember from her masses of subjects then came to mind.

‘What upsets you so? Do you wish to stay out here with us?’

‘I—I’m not sure. My mind is filled with... names. Ponies, ponies that love us both ever so much. But something about those names pains me, your own and another's most of all.’ Celestia split from her sister’s side and walked away from the edge of the balcony. ‘All I can feel is emptiness when I recall each and every individual. It is difficult to describe, dearest sister.’

Luna watched as her sister walked away—her mouth opened, and then closed. A sigh escaped her mouth, laced with sadness and disappointment. The attitude was strange, she thought, but best dealt with in the morning after some rest. There wasn't anything she could do that night.

Celestia longed to stay with her sister, but she knew how it would end up—the conversations would always be professional, always be concerning Equestria—with the possible exception of a personal, yet over-exaggerated, conversation about her strife. Her bed invited her to join it for yet another night, but she repelled it—she would be much more conscious of her being alone. She longed to see her Faithful Student, to hear her voice, but she was no longer her Faithful Student—that journey had ended long before, as had a bond they shared and quickly replaced by a new, more professional binding. Were they to meet under normal circumstances, their conversation would be purely professional. Another tear of pride and sadness surfaced; her protégé had worked so hard to succeed, but in the meantime, Celestia had lost a correspondent of which she could her about from day to day, nodding her head to a piece of interesting news, chuckling as her stories of friendship resulted in comical ends, and most notably, feeling a touch in Celestia's heart every time a new letter came showing the growth of a wonderful young mare and her quest for true friendship. She had succeeded where the sun could not. Bringing this up to Twilight herself was not an option—burdening other ponies with her problems was not how a ruler must act.

Celestia silently cursed the politics of her land; her student—associate—was so engrossed in the political connotations that surrounded her princesshood, and with it, a lost sense of familiarity. It was still the same old Twilight Sparkle, but less so about the informalities—friendly gossip, lessons on friendship, that going-ons of her friends and neighbours—and moreso the intricacies of a position with power. Was it worth it to find another student, only to come up with the same result? The notion was a frightening one, and was not gladly revisited whenever it came up.

She was only looking out for the best in her subjects, her fellow princesses—especially her sister. She was happy for them, and she was proud, and yet...!

‘Tsk tsk, Celestia,’ an alluring, yet sinister, voice called out from the air. Celestia looked to the balcony exit, half expecting her sister to come in and hunt down the voice. ‘A great leader showing signs of weakness. Don’t you worry about there being any interruptions; I made sure that we’re left alone.’

The voice was unmistakable. Celestia growled.

‘What do you want, Discord?’

The draconequus apparated in front of Celestia, with a devious grin etched on his face. His taloned claw was pressed against his chest in mock innocence. ‘Goodness me, you always assume I’m up to no good. Can’t you give a friend a break?’

‘You are not my friend,' Celestia spat. 'You may be reformed, but you’re still a liar and more trouble than you’re worth.’

Discord smirked, then stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Why, thank you! But remember: it takes one to know one.’

Celestia rolled her eyes—this was to be expected. ‘I ask of you once again: what do you want?’

‘There is nothing wrong with me wanting to see you in your chambers, Celestia. No, it is you who wants something, no?’ Discord chuckled. ‘Well, here I am to cure you of your silly alone time. You were thinking about the ponies in your life, hmm? I have a powerful sense of observation, particularly for things concerning your mind.’

‘You cannot read my mind, Spirit of Chaos. I am not a foal that you can convince otherwise.’

‘My dear Celestia—my sweet, ever-adorable Celestia,’ Discord said with a mockingly cute grin, ‘I am Discord. I’ve been alive for a very long time—’ he repeatedly stroked his beard, and with every stroke, it lengthened into a longer thread of grey hair ‘—and you did not expect me to notice the signs of loneliness? You must be getting old yourself to forget such things, ah?'

Celestia turned to face her fireplace. Her heart was failing her, just as the burning coal in the fire had lost its glow. Discord’s words were so simplistic, so childish—and yet, each one of them rang true in her heart, as if they were written straight from her own soul. Her eyes closed—but she would not shed tears. This was not how a ruler must act.

‘Oh dear, have I crossed a line?’ Discord narrowed his eyes and curled over to Celestia’s side, neither amused nor upset. His tone of voice was not mocking, nor was it sympathetic—unsure was the only word Celestia could think up. ‘I just hate to see someone so tied up. Were you thinking about that purple genius who can supposedly do no wrong?’ he added, with clear disgust.

Celestia’s heart stopped for a moment, and her muscles seized up; the gesture did not go unnoticed. Discord frowned.

‘If I had known that you would actually respond to the things I’ve said, I would’ve brought a nice pipe and we could’ve had an intriguing discussion about mortality and morality. I’m sure both are crossing your mind right now, even if I can’t read your mind as you insist I cannot.’ Discord snapped his talons, and a wooden pipe with a small pillar of smoke billowing from the end appeared in his mouth. He wore an extravagant red and black house robe, and eyeglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. ‘I never thought you’d even say hello. You look like the silent type when it comes to conversations with beings such as myself.’

The smoke wafted to Celestia, who gave a slight sniff and promptly sneezed—when she opened her eyes and saw Discord’s apparel, she admitted to herself a short unease. A small part of her, though, was warming up—not from the fire, but from the heat of the night. She shivered; the air was still frigid with moisture.

‘You know, when you had left me in that stone prison,’ Discord added with disgust, ‘I thought about a few things. We haven’t been so different for the past millennia, you and I: we were just two beings imprisoned in two different places. My prison was a lot colder and a lot less comfortable, I might add,’ he said, glancing at the velvet-cushioned bed in the center of the room.

‘Ah...’ Celestia walked over to her window, and pushed it open. ‘I don’t care, Discord,’ she insisted. She felt an emptiness inside, to which her current companion could not relate—why would he care, even if he could do so? He seeks only mischief, even now in the Royal Chambers.

As though he really had read Celestia’s mind and could sense her disdain, Discord grinned another devious smile and twirled his beard. ‘Very well, Celestia. I don’t know how in Equestria I’m supposed to speak to you without it being an attack, but I suppose that you win just by not caring.’ He looked at her, and she felt a spark tingle to her bones. It was a most unnatural feeling, especially for a ruler, and so she shook her head and faced Discord plainly.

Neither of the two adversaries spoke, merely staring at each other from a short step’s distance away. Their faces nearly touched, but neither of them broke form. Discord’s talons snapped and broke the silence—a short while after, Celestia heard the ticking of clocks. Her concentration snapped just as rapidly as the talons had.

‘Do you hear the clocks, Celestia?’ Discord’s mocking tone was not needed—it was already painfully obvious who caused the sound to come. ‘Yes, I know you’re very sensitive to the always mysterious element of time. Teaching your ever-faithful student to always be on schedule, no earlier, no later? You really were quite the influence on her, shame that potential was wasted when it could have been myself as the mentor. And marking the cycles that keep the world in balance to a thousand years—or a similar round number—apiece? You did not honestly think that I would not notice and take advantage of that, this much is obvious.’

Celestia could not hear Discord's droning; her mind was too busy trying to drown out the chimes with something—anything—that could ease her mind. How long must she wait for these clocks to end? She had waited so long for her own clock to end, but one word—one name—had kept it ticking all these years. That name was not the same as it had been a year before, yet both the new and the old held equal regard in her heart.

The clocks stopped. The longing Celestia felt subsided, but only by the slightest amount, and only for the slightest fraction of time. Discord let the feeling sink in for several moments, stretching his grin wider and wider as the seconds passed. Seconds, which felt like an eternity to the sun. An eternity that, nevertheless, she had to spare.

‘Why did you come here, Discord?’ Celestia said, calmly, still longing for her sister’s presence.

‘I think you already know, sister.’ Discord’s voice was mocking, but it was also sure—sure of its words, and knowing what consequence it had on Celestia.

Silence filled the room for several moments. Celestia could hear the faint ringing of clocks chiming in the back of her head.

‘What a simply marvelous chat we’ve had, my dear Celestia,’ Discord said, showing a toothy smile as he backpedalled his way to the bedroom’s door. ‘Well, it was informative for me at the very least. I’ve learned that you’re far too old for me to bother effectively; Princess Sparkle should prove to be much more fun than this dreadful conversation has been.’

Celestia thought of Twilight and how she would deal with his mockery; she chuckled. Her protégé was not burdened with the mistakes she made, and her friendships would keep her from this terrible chaos—and the chaos of the world.

‘You know, Discord,’ Celestia said, ‘Fluttershy’s ability to reform you is making me think a little, too. We always did feel the same about a lot of things, didn’t we? Under abnormal, nigh-impossible circumstances, we could’ve been friends. You even became friends with a regular, shy pegasus from a small town—the contrast between the two of you could not be greater. We just... we just saw things from a different point of view.’

Discord stood at the open door, staring at Celestia without malice, without mockery, for the first time she could remember in eons. ‘The difference between you and I, sister,’ he replied, stone-faced, ‘is that I answered to the revolution lingering in the air. You sold everything you owned—a chance at a peaceful life, friends, time—so that you could help your subjects succeed and be happy. Even if you’re pleased with yourself, you’ll never get back to how you once were, no matter how badly you wish it.’

Discord did not look back as he left the room—for a few moments, Celestia smiled. She hadn’t seen this side of him since... since things were different. The smile quickly vanished; no matter how much he’s reformed, he could not fix her problem. He was too far stuck in the past, just as he had been since birth, just like

Her problem was a simple twist of fate, and a strange one. Discord had said similar words that night to those he spoke many a year ago, but she thought little of it before. She remembered the words of a particular poet she had encountered in her lifetime, and held them to their painful, yet soothing, truths:

‘Trying to learn to walk like heroes we thought we had to be, and after all this time just to find we’re like all the rest—happy, lonely, and confused.’

She had accepted her fate long ago. Was it a crime to know and feel too much within? This, the longing for true friendship, the wish to have a mentor herself, was not how a ruler must think or act. The sun rose the next day as it always had done, and it was all blamed on a simple twist of fate.