Disclaimer: Lauren Faust owns My Little Pony. Thank your lucky stars she does. We wouldn't want another screwy generation, would we?

WARNING: I have refrained from saying things such as "somepony" and "everypony". You can't convince me otherwise. No buts.
KEY: Specialty marks=cutie marks, for the benefit of the stallions~

The following story is based on an alternate universe. Liberal viewing is suggested.

The castle on the cliffside was made of white stone, pure unsoiled mineral fused into one solid edifice of arching slopes and soaring turrets. Most of it was appended securely to the cliffside, hugged by fronds of silky green grass and earth, but parts of it protruded from the cliffside into the open air and seemed to oppose gravitational pull. In fact, the entire structure was guarded by a special defensive system made from unicorn's magic, imperceptible ropes of energy weaving and pulsing through the castle walls. On command a near-impenetrable, spherical cloak could conceal the building, translucent bits of alchemy bonded together to repel negative forces. Throughout the corridors herds of armored bodyguards stood alongside doors, unicorns and Pegasi alike, flint-eyed and sinewy. Many of them were weaponless, (usually the Pegasi), to downgrade enemy expectations, but little-known to the public the walls were able to swivel to reveal hidden arsenals. All of this was a necessary setup, as it was the home of the most revered being in all of Equestria, the Royal Queen of the Sun. She was standing on one of the balconies, staring into the darkness.

The palace had been built especially for her, exactly the way she had wanted it thousands of years ago when she was a young filly. Twirling gold furnishings, tiny crystal windows and sharp, pointed peaks…it was, per se, her dream castle. Her mother, the Royal Queen of the Sun before her, had favored a castle of stained-glass windows and flags of blue and orange fire, to match her blazing mane. It was tradition for a new castle to be rebuilt every time a new leader was to rule, to better meet their standards. Queen Celestia's father, Royal King of the Moon, hadn't had much say in the castle's build, but that was alright. Queen Celestia remembered this quite clearly: her father, blue as night with a star-sprinkled mane and coat, saying it was only courteous of him to let the Queen decide how the castle looked. It was a memory Celestia held close to her heart, because it said so much about her father. He was soft-spoken, a stallion of few words, always thinking of others before himself. He never once missed an occasion, always remembered the important things. It was he who had made her feel like a true princess, not just another heir to the throne. Sister Luna had inherited his silky deep-blue coat, but (to Luna's dismay) her flowing mane was not sprinkled with stars. Celestia had inherited her mother's snow-white coat, but instead of glittering blue-orange locks she got blue and green and pink.

That was thousands of years ago, when she and Luna had been but mere princesses. Then her mother and father had retired, returning to their places in the sky—her father; his powers bringing forth the stars and the moon—and her mother, to raise the sun. Once Celestia and Luna had been trained, they began to raise the sun and the moon by themselves, without their parents' aid—they only came to visit every so often—and they were crowned the two Queens, Queen Celestia and Queen Luna. Celestia, being older, became the main ruler, while Luna played a more minor role. Celestia closed her eyes, memories flooding back to her. Luna had never complained. She always did so well—and then, there was that terrible time, when her envy got the best of her—and the Dark Spirits took over her body, and Luna became Nightmare Moon—such a terrible time that had been. But it had been stopped, with a great deal of battling and clashing, and Luna returned to her former self and promised never, ever to become jealous again. Celestia had been unable to capture the Dark Spirits, though, and she did not know what had become of them.

Celestia lifted her head, her sinuous locks streaming before her in rivulets, and listened to the steady sound of water drifting through the night air. Behind the castle were twin waterfalls, pristine water cascading into a pool. She and Luna used to play by the waterfall when they were foals, diving down one on either side. They would get soaking wet, and often they forgot to remove their necklaces and tiaras before diving and got scolded by their parents. Such fun that had been, and yet it had been so long ago. Days like that would never return again, and thinking about it brought about a feeling of nostalgia.

She turned away from the balcony edge and moved slowly back into the hallways, away from the poignant memories, away from the melancholy. She knew there was little chance she would ever have foals of her own, as she had no one, and there were no Kings. There were princesses, ones she had been teaching since they were fillies, but they weren't hers; weren't her own. And she didn't necessarily want to marry. It would change too much, and too much had already been changed. Though thousands of years had passed she still missed her mother and father, deeply and dearly, and so missed the times when she and Luna were still princesses. Celestia ruled well, and was cherished by many, but sometimes, very rarely, there were times like this when she wished everything was as it used to be.

In the hallway, she came across a plaque, polished stone with a gold frame. It read: Royal Palace of Equestria, ruled by King Orion and Queen Selene, to be ruled by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.

Just above it was a larger palette, made of the same white stone as the outer walls, and painted on it were four figures—on the top left, a lithe white mare with honey-golden eyes, swirling coppery hair that ebbed into a gentle indigo, coppery hooves and wings, a long pointed horn—and on the top right, a slender inky-colored stallion with a dark gleaming mane, gray-blue eyes, glittering all over with stars. At the bottom there were two smaller figures, painted precisely, one larger than the other, and that was Princess Celestia. Her hair had been much shorter then, and hadn't changed into liquid-gas form yet because she was still a princess. There had been more pink than any other color on her mane, the blue and green parts streaking here and there. Luna looked very small and slight, her wing of pale blue hair obscuring part of her face. It depicted her filly form well; she had been very quiet, and seldom spoke to anyone but Celestia and her parents. Turning into Nightmare Moon had been almost good for her, Celestia thought. After she'd turned back she became…well, different. That was a way to put it. Certainly more outgoing, always shouting something about "Canterlot" and "the royal we". Queen Celestia was just glad Luna had finally come out of her shell, even if she did refer to herself as more than one pony and spoke in the renowned royal voice (the one Celestia refrained from using, as the overlapping voices were a bit daunting).

Queen Luna was back, the ponies of Equestria lived and prospered…certainly, it seemed, there wasn't anything to worry about.

But there was.

Celestia had been worrying about it for a while now.

In retrospect, she never really had worried about much. Being a queen had always come easily to her, troublesome matters always degrading eventually. Everything that came her way would dwindle slowly, breaking into pieces until the overall matter didn't seem quite as threatening as it did at first. This was one exception, the Time of Now, and that was simply because there was no real evidence that anything was happening.

Queen Celestia had never been this ill-informed before. And that shocked her a bit.

But there had been incidents, all over Equestria. No one noticed them, except for the victims and Celestia herself, who always tried to stay in control of things—and the victims never told anyone, perhaps in fear of disrupting Equestria's perfect tranquility. Cases of vanishing specialty marks, ponies falling mysteriously sick, often with specialty-mark-related illnesses. The families of the sufferers would try to keep the victims hidden, their grief shielded from communal eyes. They would finally give in and come to Celestia for help, and while Celestia did all she could to aid them, sometimes they were deemed incurable…sent to hospitals to sit and wait, hoping they would get better, hoping their marks would return.

And it wasn't as if this hadn't happened before. It had. Specialty marks vanishing—it wasn't a common disorder, but it did pop up every now and then. But there were a few things that made the previous cases differ from the present cases. Firstly, Celestia had always been able to find a reason behind the cases before. And the cases now had no explanation, none at all. Secondly—the previous cases had been random, happening to haphazard unfortunates. As of recently, Celestia had discovered that the vanishing specialty marks or specialty pox or whatever it was would always happen to very specific ponies. At first it only happened to female Earth ponies. Then Pegasi colts. Then ponies with orange manes.

There was something so disturbingly organized about it.

Celestia was becoming more and more bewildered. Of late, she had realized suddenly that a charming young Pegasus colt that always came to visit her (a Palomino, Quill was his name) had abruptly disappeared, his daily appearance ceasing without explanation or warning. She had searched for him, asking ponies if they knew where he had gone, but no one knew who she was talking about. Even her royal guards, who saw Quill on a daily basis, looked perplexed when she mentioned his name. It was as if he had never been alive, as if his very existence had been wiped off the face of the Earth…like he was just someone Celestia had made up.

She refused to think that Quill had never existed. Her memories of him were too vivid. So she watched other ponies, taking note of each one, trying to find a similar situation. It did not surprise her that she did eventually find a few ponies with the same dilemma. She saw a few ponies going around, asking others if they had seen a certain someone—the ponies being asked would look puzzled, and then state that they didn't know such a pony. Then the askers would begin to question people that would definitely know the missing pony, such as their parents, but even parents of the disappeared would shake their head and say they didn't know who that was. At this point a few of the askers dismissed this as a silly trick, and went on with their business, but others would panic and wonder if they were insane and come to Queen Celestia for help. And of course she couldn't help them, because where do you look for a pony that no one thinks existed?

Princess Twilight had a problem.

It was an incorrigible problem.

Nothing would make it go away, nothing that wouldn't be breaking the law.

She turned over on her back, a fuchsia-colored glow emanating from the book above her head as she used magic to levitate it. She was reading about dragons, a subject always interesting to her, and she should've been enjoying herself. But she wasn't. There was no reason for her to be happy and yet there was no reason she should not be happy, as she was a princess and, well, princesses deserve utmost happiness. In a few thousand years she'd be raising the Moon, so she should get a little credit.

She turned the page with a flourish and gave a heavy groan. Not that it would make anything better. She had found over the years that groaning never mended her troubles. More specifically, she had learned this after she'd gotten a rather large knot on her head after she had been forced to go to one of the maid's daughter's birthday, a loud and obnoxious filly party, and her groaning had gotten her clonked on the head with a broom by a certain purple-maned passerby. Still, the sound fit the occasion, blending in with the rest of her misery-wallowing.

Had Twilight been in public, she would have kept her groaning to herself. It was only because she was in the safety of her room that she let the sound slip. She wouldn't want anyone thinking she were childish, which was, according to Twilight, the worst thing anyone could think of you. Twilight was a very mature princess and she made sure that everyone knew it. A few of the maids had made the mistake before when she was younger, thinking she was a small, weak and helpless filly just because she were the younger sister. She had made sure they didn't make that mistake again. Not by physical means, but by verbal means, which Twilight thought were more powerful anyway. Now everyone in the castle knew that Princess Twilight Sparkle was just as mature, if not more mature, than her older sister, the Princess of the Sun.

Everyone except the Princess of the Sun herself.

Princess Rarity. Twilight wanted to groan again just thinking about it. Princess Rarity, the future raiser of the sun, the future ruler of the kingdom, the determiner of fates—such thoughts made Twilight shiver. How could anyone put her in charge of Equestria? She was over-the-top. Supercilious. Melodramatic. All the bad traits you could find in a princess, she had them. And yet everyone adored her, gushing every time they saw her step into the room, always complimenting her jewelry or her hair or her outrageously thick eyelashes, which Twilight knew were fake. And Twilight was just the second princess, the lesser one, the quiet, irritable one who spent her time reading books and cut her mane much too short to exceed princess-hair standards. Twilight's eyebrows furrowed. As far as she knew, Rarity was only strong socially. Twilight was strong academically, and no one noticed. Rarity didn't know Private Pansy from Clover the Clever, and still she excelled in her princesshood while Twilight was left in the dust.

She was Twilight's incorrigible problem.

She was the certain purple-maned passerby who had clouted her with a broom.

She would never go away.

Twilight would be stuck with her for thousands of years.

At this realization Twilight was forced to groan, except it turned into more of a scream and she had to mash her face into a tasseled pillow to muffle it. It didn't even put a dent in her frustration. Not a nick. Obviously it didn't—it was frustration that had been built up since they were fillies.

They had been found in the forest. Both of them, side by side. Like a gift from the heavens—or that's what Queen Celestia called it, anyway. Having no foals to be her heir, Celestia also no princesses to recruit. And then, as she had described it—"a ribbon of violet light fell upon the forest"—and she had found Twilight and Rarity there, alicorn fillies. No reasonable explanation for how they had gotten there.

How incredibly cheesy.

So, Rarity and Twilight had no parents…a thought that sent a searing pang through Twilight whenever she thought about it. She didn't know why she was even saddened by it…if she hadn't ever had parents, why did she care? She thought it might be the fact that she had been raised by Celestia…not Luna, Luna was always away (although Twilight secretly liked her better)…and Celestia only treated her like a very good student, not a daughter. Rarity got along better with Celestia anyway, seeing that they were both Sun Rulers. Twilight didn't have anyone to talk to, or to study with. She desperately wished she had someone to study with… The only thing Rarity studied was jewelry, and the only book Twilight had ever seen her read was How to Charm Stallions, Edition #1. Celestia was too busy to study with Twilight unless they were training, and then they didn't do much reading. So she always had to study by herself. She didn't really mind; it was quieter that way, but she did admit it would be nice to have someone to compare notes with.

Unluckily Rarity was not that kind of mare. She was opposite of Twilight in many ways; it was hard to believe they were twins…fraternal twins, since they didn't share much but mane color…and Twilight didn't necessarily like being around her. Rarity was clueless of this, naturally, and pounced on Twilight whenever she saw her and gave her unwanted fashion advice. "Stand up straighter, Twilight, your posture is terrible!" or "You really need to do something with that hair of yours, darling, it's awfully drab!" The list was endless.

It seemed to be worse because Rarity played the part of the older sister. Not by much; only by a minute or so (now that she thought of it, how could Rarity be a minute older? Did they appear at different times?), but Rarity treated that minute like it were five years. "We had some testing done," Queen Celestia had told them. "and found that Rarity was slightly older—and therefore, destined to be the Sun Princess. That's the tradition for sisters. If you had been brothers, the older sibling would become the Night Prince, and the younger would be the Sun Prince. If it was one filly and one colt, training would be done first to determine your abilities, and we would choose based on your individual skills."

Twilight thought that was immensely unfair. She hadn't said so, though—mature ponies didn't interrupt. She thought that the filly-colt tradition should be performed for all situations. It wasn't just that their destiny was chosen for them. But that was the way things were, and she had no say in it. Not that she really minded, though; she disagreed only for the sake of fairness, and not because she actually wanted to be the Sun Princess. The term "Sun Princess" sounded much too light and sugary, like an oversweet marshmallow. She didn't think she was really qualified for that sort of job—more specifically, she didn't think her personality fit in with the title. She was logical; deep…and at night, everything was quiet and serene, perfectly perfect. And the sky was much prettier at night, sunsets prettier than sunrises, red and yellow and violet bleeding into a beautiful cerulean blue, which eventually turned the perfect shade of blue-black. And daytime skies didn't have stars, or a moon, a glowing white disc that seemed to change shape over time. The moon was the object in control of the tides! You could look at the moon, you could marvel at it all you wanted and not have to worry about ocular protection. The sun, on the other hoof, was far too bright to look at; you couldn't fully appreciate its splendor.

Twilight had nothing against the sun, nothing at all. It was another star, after all, the one that shined brightest, the one responsible for her lovely sunsets. It provided life for the entire planet, the only reason anyone was alive. But Twilight didn't feel any special connection to it, not like she did with the moon. She didn't feel what she did at night during the day, that feeling of peace that existed when the planet became dark, crickets filling the air with their chirping and nocturnal creatures emerging from the undergrowth to lead secret lives…Twilight was proud of nighttime, possibly more proud of it than Rarity was of daytime. She was the only one, though. You didn't often see many ponies out stargazing, connecting stars to make constellations, like she did. No one else would actually spend the time to figure out how to scratch-build telescopes just so they could get a closer look at the night sky. No one else would take long walks in the forest at dark, magically lighting up bushes so she could study and take notes on the night creatures. Twilight was the only one. The night had dark and humble beauty, and yet nobody appreciated it.

Twilight's shoulders were beginning to ache from lying on them, so she turned back over and dropped the book. Unfortunately, due to the book's heavy weight and her hastiness in dropping it, one corner grazed her on the head on the way down. The impact knocked off her tiara, which clattered noisily to the floor. Twilight cursed under her breath. She only ever did curse under her breath, partially because it was rude to do it out loud, and partially because Doreen, Twilight's personal maid, had put a jinx in the castle walls to stop it. Whenever someone swore, a recorded hologram message would suddenly appear in front of the culprit. Hologram-Doreen would then lecture you loudly about the crudeness of curse words, and the hologram message would follow you around wherever you went until it ended. Twilight had learned her lesson from the time she'd dropped a golden goblet on her hoof and cussed so loudly it echoed around the halls, making the message appear (right in front of the Royal Guards, how embarrassing…). Twenty minutes of incessant lecturing. Sheesh, what a nightmare. Rarity was too much of a lady to curse, so she didn't have that problem, but Twilight thought it was acceptable to drop a bad word here and there. It came with the whole filly-to-mare package, didn't it?

She charmed the tiara over to her dress table, which she rarely used. Rarity's was decorated with all sorts of jewels and ribbons, and the top was covered in different varieties of lotions and oils and all kinds of excessive stuff like that. Twilight just had a brush, a comb, and some sort of hair lather stuff Doreen had given her last Hearth Warming's Eve…it made her mane shiny, which was nice, but she only used it on special occasions.

She looked in the mirror and tried to nestle the tiara back into her mane. Twilight liked her mane, even though it was much shorter than the length it should have been for a princess. Then again, she and Rarity were also short by princess standards; they were normal-pony size, and Twilight suspected they would not grow to full princess height, either. Therefore Twilight didn't see the point in growing her mane long. Her bangs, which had grown in one thick, solid fringe as a filly, had been sliced down the middle. The rectangular edges had been cut off, so now her bangs grew in two curved triangles on either side of her face. She had also cut the rest of her hair a little shorter so it slanted forward, and her tail as well. It made her look more mature, she thought. Regal; business-like. But apparently no one else thought so. Princess Celestia had dropped several hints that she wanted Twilight to grow it longer, but never said it directly. Rarity always hounded on her for it, flouncing around her own waist-long mane of curled violet ringlets. Twilight didn't care what they said; she was keeping it this way.

She got her tiara righted again, checking herself quickly in the mirror for any out-of-place ruffles or stains. Her tiara caught in the light; it was a pretty silvery thing, with a dark indigo gem right in the center. Rarity had the same one, only a little larger. And more well-cared for. Twilight was always dropping her tiara, but if Rarity dropped hers, she'd probably faint. It wasn't that Twilight didn't take care of her possessions. She did, but the tiara was just a symbol of her inferiority. She was the Moon Princess, the lesser one. She didn't need it sitting atop her head all day, reminding her.

Suddenly Twilight longed for Queen Luna. She didn't see Luna very often, but they were connected, they were the Night Rulers—and she felt close to her. Not really as a mother figure, but as an older sister. She was sure Luna felt the same way. Whenever she came to visit they would talk for hours, taking walks in the forest, stargazing, studying. She was a much better sister figure than Rarity would ever be. Queen Luna understood her better than anyone. She knew what it was like to feel inferior…she had even turned into Nightmare Moon for a short time because of jealousy. Twilight wasn't jealous of Rarity, but she and Luna had both had negative feelings about their position before, and it was comforting to be able to share that with someone. Twilight greatly hoped Luna would come visit again soon.

Perhaps Queen Luna would understand Twilight's latest disagreement with her sister. It was the thing that'd been irking her all day. There was no way out if it, and Rarity knew it and she knew it. It had taken her all her strength not to say scream a swear word in the middle of the Grand Ballroom when Rarity had told her. It wasn't that the news was particularly bad, it was the fact that Rarity had, yet again, gotten her way.

They had been in the ballroom, eating their Royal Breakfast…a delicious breakfast, if Twilight said so herself. Scrambled eggs and hashbrowns and pancakes with dollops of cream butter, bowls of fresh dew-spotted fruit lying on beds of ice, grass sausages, and even raspberry lemonade, which the chefs had made especially for her. She had sat sipping her lemonade out of a frosty glass in between minced bites of egg, and then, out of nowhere, Rarity spoke.

"Dear Twilight, I have most marvelous news…"

Twilight had stopped her sipping then and there. As soon as she'd heard the word "marvelous", she'd known to stop drinking to reduce the danger of spitting strawberry lemonade all over the table. She had listened on with a sense of dread.

Rarity continued. "I was out walking today, and I did some polite eavesdropping…and I overheard some ponies saying that there's an open spot in the Spectrum Army…"

Twilight's bite of egg had dropped promptly off her fork.

"…and so, I thought, well, if there's an open spot, why leave it so open and empty? Such a thought led to another thought, and that was, if one of us signed up, it wouldn't be so empty anymore, would it? So then I thought, why not? I did a bit of asking around, and it looks like absolutely anyone can join, even, dare I say, the Moon Princess! Isn't it magnificent, darling?" She took a sip of her tea.

Twilight was ready to protest. She knew what the Spectrum Army was. She knew only too well what it was. And she wanted no part of it.

"But you aren't allowed to do that," Twilight interjected. "You aren't…you didn't ask my permission first, Rarity. I don't have to go if I don't want to."

Rarity answered as she always did. "No need to thank me, dear sister! You're starting in the morning…I'll have the Pegasus guards fly you to the Spectrum Forest. No, no, it's no trouble! I'm always glad to lend a helping hoof. It'll be such a good experience for you!"

And then Rarity took one last sip of her tea and left.

Twilight was a bit dumbfounded, but mostly she was frustrated. Rarity had won an argument that wasn't even an argument…she had just broken news and left Twilight to seethe. The Spectrum Army…why had Rarity signed her up for that? Of all things…now she'd be spending valuable study time in some rickety old forest with a bunch of crazy ponies. Queen Celestia hadn't been fazed when Twilight told her what Rarity had done, instead she just laughed and said they would train on days she didn't have meetings. Not even Queen Celestia cared. Queen Luna would have cared. Just Twilight's luck that she wasn't here.

The Spectrum Army…a bunch of crazy ponies! They were apparently the sworn protectors of Equestria, scrounging the Spectrum Forest for things Twilight didn't even think existed. And they were always spouting garbage about this untold prophecy, about some savior that would come to Ponyville and save them all…they obviously had no idea what they were talking about. And yet all of Equestria respected them, like they actually deserved any respect. It was perfectly ridiculous.

She'd be starting in the morning.

She'd be a part of their group.

She had an incorrigible problem.

Her sister Rarity, who had signed her up for the Spectrum Army, to romp around with a bunch of ponies who battled imaginary shadow creatures.

She turned away from the dress table, closed her eyes, and threw her hooves in the air, mime-swearing as loud as she could without activating the jinx.