Celestia landed gracefully upon the smooth stone of her balcony, the rosy fingers of the newly-risen Dawn caressing her powerful outstretched wings, the warmth filling her with joy. This was her purpose, and though after so many centuries it had become more than routine, it filled her with joy. Like a delicately-frosted slice of cake, or a newborn kitten, or the smell of fresh grass, raising the sun was something she could never tire of- something that was, in and of itself, pleasurable; virtuous; wonderful.
Musing on her raison d'être as she sometimes was wont to do on these frosty autumn mornings, just after the golden rays of the sun broke over the forested hills and snow-capped vistas of Equestria, she turned back to look upon her work. Flowerlike the heavenly body crept quietly higher and higher in the sky, stray rays bursting from behind an irregularity in the terrain such as a tree or hillock- as if the sun was stretching after a good night's sleep. The warm, fiery colors lit up the valleys and the cozy hamlets nestled within as sunlight spread across the land- her land.
The white regent shook her head and smiled, chastising herself for her mistake- not her land. She laid no claim to the swathes of forest and fields and babbling brooks and villages. And even if she did, her sister would have equal rights to make such claims. Though Luna was the younger and Celestia the eldest, the difference in time between their births was trivial at best; what difference did it make after so many millennia?
Now Celestia's eyes dulled, half-lidded, as she looked inward to her memories, rather than outward upon her work. Luna... Luna, dear sister. She had been making much progress reintegrating since she had returned from her exile. Exile- imprisonment. Banishment. When she had used force to remove her sister from power, mad though she had become, and did the only thing she could think to do- put her somewhere where she could hurt nopony else. And then...
A tear, unbidden, formed in the corner of her eye and with a blink was sent cascading down the soft fur of her cheek- wiped away with a wingtip, it landed near a crack in the stones, to be evaporated away later in the light of the sun. If only her own regrets could disappear so readily, if only the old pains did not ache so, did not feel so fresh.
Shaking her head once more, this time with no trace of a smile but instead a hard-set look of determination, she mentally prepared herself for the day. Routine was a sanctuary for her, routine was her escape. Focus on the here, the now, the movements, the minutiae- and during that time, she was safe. Turning once again from the glorious sun, almost all of its heavenly fire risen above the horizon, she proceeded at a meaningful trot back into her bedchambers, to wash and prepare for the morning meal. Today, she would have alfalfa.