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Lie Me a River · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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River of Dreams
Princess Celestia lifted her teacup and gave Twilight a curious smile. "So," she said. "A matter of national security?"

Twilight stared back somberly, her teacup untouched. "We've been blindsided by enough ancient foes," she said, "that when I suspected there was truth behind the legends of this one, I decided it was only prudent to be proactive." The folder in front of her shone with hornglow, and a pile of papers angled up and tapped on the desk, aligning their edges. "After all, there would be little more dangerous than the antithesis to an Element of Harmony."

Celestia hesitated. "Antithesis?"

"Lilith," Twilight said. "The Alicorn of Lies."

Celestia was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

"Now there's a name I haven't heard from pony lips in ages," she finally said, and took a contemplative sip of tea.

Twilight's ears perked up. "So it's true? You do have another sister?"

"Did."

"Oh." Twilight gradually shrank back in her chair. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Celestia said, lowering her cup to the platter. She abruptly stood up and paced to the window, staring out into the countryside beyond. "The only peace Lilith ever found was in her choice to sacrifice herself for ponykind."

Twilight stared into her tea for long seconds. "I suppose that must be some comfort?" she finally said. "That her last act before passing on was to repent and reform."

Celestia's jaw shifted. Twilight glanced up—and blinked. Celestia, for the first time Twilight had ever seen, was biting her lip.

"…Princess?" Twilight said, her wings fluffing out. "What? What's wrong?"

Celestia turned her head away for a moment, and her barrel rose and fell in a slow breath. When she turned back, her usual gentle smile had returned—if a sad one.

"It's alright, Twilight," she said. "Just…memories, that's all. We'll talk about them someday."

"…If you're sure." Twilight chewed her own lip. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."




One glance at Celestia's muzzle was all it took. Luna stopped, set down the scroll she was reading, and stood up to give Celestia a hug.

"What is wrong, sister?" she said after their embrace.

"Twilight somehow found out about Lilith."

"Oh." Luna tilted her head. "She took the truth badly?"

"She's not ready for the truth," Celestia said heavily. "Or…well, I should trust her to be. But she knows just enough for the truth to be awkward, and I didn't have the strength to bring it up."

"I shall speak with her," Luna said. "It shouldn't be your burden. I was always closer to Lilith than you were."

Celestia smiled sadly. "No. We should talk to Twilight together. I shouldn't run from this."

Luna nodded and nuzzled her. "Fair enough."

"In the meantime," Celestia said, "can we visit her? Just for a little while."

"Of course," Luna said. "Come join me tonight."




Celestia gradually opened her eyes to find herself floating amid a comfortable night-blue nothingness speckled with points of light. She turned her head, watching the glowing specks drift by. A thousand years of reflex kicked in, and she reached out to the nearest point to brush her hoof against it—but overrode her instincts at the last moment.

She wasn't here to monitor ponies' dreams. Not tonight.

Still, she couldn't help but survey the currents of light. "The River of Dreams is gentle tonight," she said. "You do marvelous work."

"I merely protect it from the troubled minds who would cast ripples in the stillness," Luna said from behind her, then stepped forward shoulder to shoulder with her. "You did not lie to Twilight. Lilith found her peace here."

"I'd like to think so. But I wonder."

Celestia let the lights drift around them for long seconds before speaking again.

"Did you know, Lilith? Did you realize what would happen when you dissolved yourself into the aether of sleep, and scattered your essence into the ponies we breathed to life?" Celestia took a breath. "Did you see what they would do with the ability to conceive of things that did not exist? Was it only—like you said—about cursing our ponies to lie, and cheat, and covet, and wish for violence; or did you understand that allowing them to dream of a better tomorrow would turn out to be the greatest gift of all?"

There was no answer, of course.

Luna silently rested her head to her sister's neck, and Celestia leaned in in return. And they drifted through the night in the currents of their sister's embrace.
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#1 ·
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So here's an interesting bit of world building. I'm less interested in the "mysteriously unmentioned former sister" thing, as canon MLP likes to pull this card and there's plenty reason not to talk about her anyway, but the idea that before her dissolution ponies were less imaginative, I suppose. Were they more puppet-like? Or merely more literal-minded about everything? Art must have been a bore, I'm sure. Twilight being a little presumptuous is a nice character touch, too.

Interesting questions raised here, for sure. However...

Celestia gradually opened her eyes to find herself floating amid a comfortable night-blue nothingness speckled with points of light. She turned her head, watching the glowing specks drift by. A thousand years of reflex kicked in, and she reached out to the nearest point to brush her hoof against it—but overrode her instincts at the last moment.

She wasn't here to monitor ponies' dreams. Not tonight.


Given Celestia's obvious inexperience during "A Royal Problem," I don't really buy that she has instincts to resist. Minor canon nitpick, and if it wasn't the preface to an emotional moment I wouldn't mind so much.
#2 ·
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This gets pretty close to hooking me as a grand worldbuilding idea. But the problem is I don't feel that wonder and reverance at the end, it's just characters talking about that idea. I know, this sounds like that "show don't tell" cliche. I just think framing this as some secret conspiracy misuses the limited text space available here.
#3 ·
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I know who wrote this! Abstain.

But to give non-votey feedback, I agree with Haze that while the worldbuilding here is very strong, the intended sense of wonder at the end didn't materialize for me. Perhaps it's because of the constraints of the format (you had very few words to work with), but the ending needs to be epic'ed up.
#4 · 1
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This one felt super anti-climactic to me. The opening felt really dramatic, so I expected an equally dramatic reveal; first I thought Celestia might actually be Lilith then maybe that it was Twilight, then I got this whole 'as you know, Bob' paragraph that explains Lilith turned into whatever let's ponies dream.

Which... felt a bit less than satisfying to me.

After re-reading it a few times, I think the 'reveal' of who Lilith was covered up the 'reveal' that she didn't actually reform; she totally intended to curse the ponies but they turned out somewhat okay anyways, plus they can dream now. But... that doesn't seem like something that should have Celestia choking up, or something that she'd have serious trouble talking to Twilight about. Her motivations feel off, I guess is what I'm saying.

Anyways, it's pretty good? I feel like it's trying to be really ambitious but not quite carrying through on it though.
#5 ·
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Great start, but it got very telly at the end.

If Celestia talked to Luna without addressing Lilith directly, the information could have been sprinkled through back and forth dialogue instead of being dragged across the reader’s metaphorical face parts. The word limit would make that difficult to properly execute, though.

All in all: very neat premise, okay execution.
#6 · 1
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I think, if I had to sum up my biggest problem with this story...

"Twilight somehow found out about Lilith."


...this line would serve to encapsulate it. This whole set-up feels so stilted and unnatural, like it's forcing a discussion on these world-building elements by omitting crucial elements of it. How did Twilight find out about Lilith? What, exactly, did Lilith do? Stuff that could, and should, be built up and explored as part of a larger mystery, is just fed to the reader straight out the gate, with dialogue and interactions that simply do not feel natural.

That's probably at least due to the constraints of the minific round. I'm willing to cut it some slack for that (and, for the record, I think this piece is splendidly written, in a technical sense), but in my opinion, it sacrifices too much of its potential to ultimately work as a story.