Skyscraper-high flames surged over the surface of the Sun like mountains dancing, and in the valleys between them cooler slabs of magnetized plasma rested like mushrooms on a pizza. The solar wind roared and sunquakes thundered and the corona almost, but not quite, obscured a bright streak in the sky, brighter than the obscuring gases that flickered to drive back the eternal night.

The streak slowly grew larger and larger, then the object started to dip into the solar atmosphere, forming a shell of incandescent plasma around it as it sailed down, emitting a horrible noise that sounded very like a scream. The plasma shell turned colors, pink and green and blue, and something writhed at the center. 

The object splashed into the sun with a consequent ejection of solar mass that would ruin radio reception back on the planet Equus a few days from now. It tunneled under the surface and re-emerged like a leaping fish, bouncing and skittering across the gaseous liquid until it beached upon one of the drifting sunspots, a slightly cooler and slightly less vaporous region than everything else. It skidded across the surface with scattering bolts that resembled sparks, coming to a grating halt with its nose pressed right against something vertical and drastically cooler than its surroundings.

The object, an extremely annoyed white alicorn, stood with a waver, trying to regain her sun legs, and looked at what had arrested her slide. It was a white gazebo with natural cherry railings and curved frets carved into scrollwork that showed the same Solar Insignia that the Alicorn bore on her rump.

Within the gazebo sat another alicorn, whose auroral mane of blazing orange danced gently in tune with the dancing flames that encircled the sunspot. She conjured some water into a teapot, telekinesed it over to the sea of seething plasma, dipped it in for two seconds, then brought it boiling and whistling back to the table, where she poured two cups of tea. She beckoned to the newcomer with a small nod.

Celestia stepped into the gazebo and sat at the table; she blew at her tea but only got it hotter. 

“I’ve been observing your trail for a few days,” said Daybreaker. “I tried to arrange a good place for you to land. Only off by a mile. I probably don’t need to ask, but how did it go this time?”

Celestia sipped at her tea, temporizing. “You know little sisters. She’s still holding a grudge...”

“Yes, I gathered that.” Daybreaker squeezed something like a lemon into her teacup. “You were going to let her try developing... Moon apples this time around, right? Plants that needed moonlight to grow?”

Celestia snorted, rippling her tea. “Oh, if that was the only issue... We've tried equal division of responsibilities, sequential rulership, punctuated equinelibrium, but every couple of thousand years we have another blowup and one of us finds herself cooling or warming her horseshoes in exile. It's like we're riding a roller coaster each time.”

Daybreaker clucked her tongue. “Yes, you do seem to have these issues every cycle.” She leaned forward. “Promise me that you won't go nova if I use the A word again?”

“What? Anger-management? Avoidable? Asshole?” recited Celestia, watching her demiurge's face. “Wait, [I]Abdication!?[/I] Are you serious? I really can't leave her to rerun everything; you can't get decent cider from moon apples, for one thing.”

Daybreaker shook her head. “Not just for you. For both of you. Let some protege run the Queendom and you and little sis hit the beach for the rest of the incarnation. Take some time and get to reknow each other.”

Celestia frowned. “You know, I think that's a workable idea. I have just the little go-getter in mind for it too; Sunset could really grow into that role and wear the crown. Thanks, I believe we may give that a try!”

Daybreaker smiled. “Splendid. I'll be happy to jump in for a bit as well if you need a boogeymare. 

“Now, how would you like to spend the next thousand years? I've worked out a few Canasta variants I've been dying to try...”