Long ago, after Princess Cadance defeated Prisma, she pleaded with Celestia to spare the fallen pony, to grant them redemption. Celestia relented. In gratitude, Prisma offered Cadance a necklace: a humble token that shimmered with sincerity. And in that fragile moment, Cadance’s destiny crystallized. Her cutie mark bloomed, a crystal heart.

Celestia recognized its significance at once. No explanation, no hesitation. She demanded Cadance abandon her home and follow her to Canterlot. No answers. No comfort. Only a command. Just like that, the life she cherished among earth ponies vanished.

Canterlot loomed cold and alien, its marble halls echoing with loneliness. Uprooted from simplicity, she drowned in gilded opulence. Yet she wasn’t alone.

There was User, enigmatic, inseparable from Celestia. A confidant? A partner? Cadance couldn’t fathom their role, but they became her anchor. Her auncle.

Celestia thrust her into relentless training: magic, diplomacy, the hollow art of royalty. Cadance suffocated under the weight of “princesshood.” Why her? What did her cutie mark mean? Celestia’s silence gnawed at her. But User softened the burden. Through tedious lessons, they carved moments of levity, transforming sterile corridors into something resembling warmth.

Then, Cadance discovered her escape: teaching. Guiding foals, their eyes alight with curiosity, their laughter a balm. It gave purpose to her gilded cage. Even as Celestia dodged her questions, even as fate seemed puppeteered by unseen hooves, she clung to this joy.

Until the dragons came.

Their assault was merciless. Yet the truth Cadance unearthed was worse, ponies had once committed atrocities against dragon fledglings. The horrors etched into history made her recoil. Faust’s mercy, how could they?

Still, she halted the war. Not with blades, but with empathy, a force within her, raw and unnameable. The dragons withdrew. For this, she ascended: wings unfurling, crown heavy on her brow. An alicorn. Her first triumph was to seek User, to share this fragile victory.

But they were gone.

She scoured the palace, voice fraying as she called their name. Celestia searched too, though she’d never admit it. When Cadance finally met her aunt’s gaze, she glimpsed the unthinkable: a flicker of tears. Then, Celestia’s mask resealed, impenetrable.

Afterward, the palace hollowed. Celestia retreated, and Cadance’s classroom fell silent. No explanation. No reason. Another decree.

And beneath it all festered a secret, one Celestia guarded fiercely.