//------------------------------//
// Belfrys of Canterlot: Part 2 
// Story: Anarchy!!! 
// by -newt- 
//------------------------------//

I dreamed of Celestia.

It started as a dream about a beach. Sand in my fur, salt-water in my eyes, air heavy with the weight of a clear, blue sky. Waves frolicked and tossed playfully. They were nothing like the books; no shipwreckers sending geysers of spray skywards, no accursed depths and slimy creatures, no, these waves were practically domesticated. They lapped up at my hooves timidly, then retreated for fear of reprimand.

Celestia was standing at my side, dress flapping in the breeze. Most of my dreams came back to her, one way or another. 

“What are you doing?” She asked. 

“Recording the erosion of a sandcastle.” I tilted my chin towards a rambling old ruin that, scarcely a half-hour ago, had been a grand affair with ramparts and a moat. Now its crenelations had dropped away and the waves were tearing at its innards like vultures. Everything crumbles, I thought with the sage wisdom of someone who still had their wisdom teeth.

Celestia nodded, not quite understanding but happy to let me continue. I don’t remember why we were there (or where ‘there’ was) but it couldn’t have been a surprise, because she was dressed for the occasion - a frilly sundress and a sun-hat, both apple-flesh white. Behind her, I could see a city climbing into the sky - a forest of small, blue-white houses that stood out against the mountainside like teeth. 

I stopped what I was doing and turned to face her. I was used to grown ups not fully engaging with me - but Celestia was different. She always had an interesting question, a new angle from which to tackle the problem. That today she was being so silent was confusing to me. Or, maybe, it was simpler than that - studies show that children are good at picking up on subtle signs that their caregiver is feeling off. 

In hindsight, the signs weren't especially subtle.

When I hear the word melancholy, I think of Celestia on that day. The sun in her eyes, the wind in her hair, a beautiful city behind her, and a beautiful sea to match. Her student there with her. 

And yet she was staring into the horizon, as if she could see through the that startling robins-egg blue. The lines on her face were pronounced - she seemed tired, if such a thing was possible. Absently, I noticed that the waves stopped right before they met her hooves.

“Why do you look so sad?” I asked her.

This was before I’d gotten into the habit of biting my tongue. My mouth ran away from me, without fail, at least once a week. In front of teachers, friends, maids, soldiers, parents. Celestia too, on occasion. But I suspect my observations had never before been this astute.

She flinched like she’d been struck. “Twilight, I-”

Her eyes flicked up, and I turned in time to see a wave - a real wave, not the playful ones that had been nipping at us for hours - roar up, foaming like a rabid dog. It blocked out the sun. 

I didn’t put up my hooves. I knew Celestia would protect me. And, sure enough, an instant before it hit, the wave dissolved into a fine mist. 

I turned back to face her - though my hair was soaked through, clinging to my cheeks, hers was perfectly dry. “Was that why you were sad?”

Her face did this curious thing, then. It went perfectly motionless, taught and proud, like the old portraits she kept in the abandoned wing of the palace. Featureless as a statue.

“…many years ago,” she spoke in a voice as distant as a cloud, “I left something here. Something of… importance.”

Before I could reach out and touch her to see if she had turned to stone, I felt something pool around my haunches. The waves were back, more timid than ever. They drained away slowly, cautiously, picking their way around myself, the sandcastle, and Celestia’s pristine hooves.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” Celestia asked me.

That was where the dream collapsed. Celestia flickered, her voice cracking like a skipping-record, and I was falling backwards into an unimaginable darkness. Lakes in the dead of night, wellspring-eyes, an ocean of water cresting into a tidal wave that hung, motionless, above me. If I moved, if I breathed, if I so much as blinked, it would fall.

Celestia couldn’t protect me from this one. Or, maybe, she didn’t want to.

The roaring of water became too loud to bear. I felt tingly, all over, as if I was trapped in something’s thaumatic grip. The world spun, faster and faster. At some point during the carousel, I awoke.

Stars swam before my eyes, and for a moment I wondered if I too had been banished to the moon. Then, the dizziness faded into a deafening headache, the tinnitus so loud I had to grit my teeth against it. Every part of my body throbbed with my pulse. 

With trepidation, I cracked open one eye. 

Nothing of note. Dust motes, a shattered balustrade, rotting wood and gaps in the slats through which I could see the afternoon sky. I was inside the belfry, clearly, and it looked the way I felt - a ruin, crumbled away, waves pounding at my innards. 

“You’re awake.”

A figure emerged from the dark corner of the room, wrapped in a dark brown cloak. It was the unmistakable garb of a ne'er-do-well. I did my best to turn my wince into a glower. 

“Feel better?” They asked.

I spat my words at them. “You’ll never get what you want from me.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve traveled so far, after all…”

Their magic flared bright red. I gasped - then breathed a sigh of relief. The pounding in my head receded, then ceased. 

“W-what-”

“Relax, Twi.” My captor shot me another grin - I caught a flash of teeth below the cloak - then, like a magician pulling away a tablecloth, she removed her cloak.

And there she was, my best friend of almost a decade, in all her glory. Tall and proud, all the colors of a warm hearth, and a vibrant smile that hovered somewhere between tired and glad.

“Nice to meet you,” Sunset Shimmer said. “Now, what did you find out about Princess Luna?”