The rising sun gave Celestia new thrills of pride—and jealousy—as her overnight train pulled into Canterlot station. The honor guard that met and escorted her to the castle stirred lingering unease about her retirement. 

But an almost comforting familiarity washed over her as she entered the throne room—now the demesne of Princess Twilight Sparkle—and observed the worries etched into her greatest pupil’s brow.

“Princess Celestia!” shouted Twilight, eyes brightening. “Thank you for coming!”

“Former Princess. And of course. Luna wanted me to stay for her ‘mimosa week’ kickoff, but she’ll manage… it’s not every day that one’s sovereign liege summons one to ask questions a face-to-face.”

“I’m sorry… it’s taken a while to put my hoof on the problem. I hope you’ll forgive my seeking a more immediate answer.”

“Such is a Princess’ prerogative.”

Twilight sighed. She glanced back at the blazing sun through the balcony’s grandest window. “I worry that Equestria isn’t listening to me, or to the principles of Harmony I share.”

Celestia stifled a grin at Twilight’s familiar, yet unwarranted, self-doubt. “Sometimes even the most attentive ponies have their ears tugged by day-to-day matters. Crops and foals leave little room for ‘principle’ as such.”

“That’s not what I mean. Recall that, for few terrifying moments, Equestria almost let itself be dragged back under the Windigoes’ power. They cast aside the unity that bound them above tribal differences, as well as all I’d taught them as Princess of Friendship, and anything they’d learned of Harmony through their own experiences or a few thousand years of cultural inheritance. And I can’t help but wonder… did I fail them? Or was Equestrian culture so fragile that it could be shattered by mere whispers?”

“Heavy thoughts, indeed.” Celestia kept her tone even and strong, though her mind raced through possibilities of what Twilight might need to hear to maintain faith in herself and her ponies.

Twilight turned damp, pleading eyes on her. “It’s tempting to blame Chrysalis, Cozy Glow, and Tirek. They’re villains, after all. They grew their influence and used it against us. That’s just what villains do—”

“But they did it so quickly,” Celestia added. She shook her head, then approached the throne slowly, reflecting as she went on how tall her former student seemed upon the high platform. Step by step she ascended to meet Twilight, stopping just far enough away to leave a head of height difference. “Few ponies know thentruth of how fragile this ‘Equestria’ truly is.”

“I refuse to be so cynical. Friendship is…” Twilight paused, drawing breath, visibly collecting herself. “Friendship should make us strong. Especially against divisions like this.”

“It isn’t cynical to highlight the truth.” Celesita’s words drew a glare from Twilight, but she continued: “A Princess must accept the truth about her ponies, regardless of what that truth might be.”

“What good is ‘truth’ if they’ll just throw away everything I know to be right at the drop of a hat?!”

Celestia didn’t let the outburst faze her: “It reminds us that all things are fragile. Ideas, ponies, even Equestria itself… they can change. They will, in fact, change during your time with them—and not always for the better. Sometimes high-minded virtue will triumph; more often, you may feel you’re the last pony left trying to hold it together. And at its darkest, you’ll know that you’re truly walking the path alone.”

Twilight shuddered. She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut, hiding what Celestia knew must be bitter disappointment. “I thought they were with me. That I was bringing Equestria along on a noble path.”

“But you are! Twilight… the fact that ponies falter, get distracted, or face a hundred other things that limit the purity of their walk with friendship and Harmony… it doesn’t mean that they’re not walking the path, or that the path isn’t worthy. Their walk may be different than yours, but they need leadership on it, lest they turn away even more easily. They need you to be that leader.”

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Twilight gave her a wan smile. “You know, for a retired mare at the start of her ‘mimosa week,’ you aren’t very comforting.”

Celestia returned the smile. “I earned my mimosa week by leading through the bad times, not the good ones. But I have every confidence that you’ll earn it, too.”

Twilight’s grin turned mischievous. “We don’t have to wait till I retire for mimosas with breakfast, do we?”

“Tartarus no, Twilight. Let’s start this week off right.”