Celestia took her time, admiring the crystalline amber hue of the tea as it poured gracefully into the first of two cups. It was a soft and rosy sunlit afternoon, and the radiance of her beloved Sun fell gently upon everything in her study around her. The polished, solid cedar of the study doors; the subtle refractive shine of a sunbeam upon her well-loved writing desk, venerable site of many centuries of thoughtful statecraft; the glint and refraction of stray motes of light off many mementoes, baubles of glass, wood and metal, some quietly shifting in their alcoves in the corner of her eye; the crisp brightness of blue floral patterns on white porcelain, a long-treasured gift from a long-passed friend. Everything was stillness, and light.
Breathing in deeply, for a few moments, the monarch of the sun felt a rare moment of perfect peace.
Moments later, there was a gentle tap-tapping at her door, calling her forth from her state of reverie. Ah, yes; her guest. With a golden shimmering of her horn, she drew the door open, beckoning her guest come in. “Welcome! I’m very glad you could make it, my little pony.”
“Not as happy as I am to see you, Princess!” Pinkie Pie gleefully expressed, bouncing into the room with her particular brand of celebratory cheer. “I’ve been waiting for this all week!” Though quiet seemed to flee the room with her entry, Celestia could only feel as if the sunbeams somehow brightened with her energy. She allowed herself a small, wry smile as the pink confection of a pony bounced once, twice, three times in place before plopping all-too-comfortably into the proferred chair, her hooves clattering loudly against the leg of the table as she sat.
“I’ve been looking forward to it myself. The court has been bustling so much lately, I’ve scarcely had time to myself, let alone to catch up with my dear friends.” The teapot shimmered, gently lifting from the table, as Celestia poured out a second cup for herself. “This blend is one of my favourites, a spry cup of jasmine, with fresh mint from the castle gardens; uncomplicated, but refreshing, and with pep.”
“Sounds delish!” For all her lack of levitation magic, Pinkie’s teacup may as well have flown into her hooves with all her eagerness to sample its’ contents; she took two sips, each delicate and appraising, with little hems and haws, before taking a much longer pull. “Yup; tastes delish, too! I love the subtle hint of chamomile.”
“Oh, you noticed that, did you? I hoped it might calm you. Just a little,” Celestia gently chided her, her eyes laughing as she did so. “You’re always fit to bursting with energy, to the point where I can scarcely keep up with you.”
“Mm, nice try! But there’s no slowing me down, Princess,” Pinkie proclaimed as Equestria’s monarch took a graceful pull of her own steaming cup. “This Pie’s got gumption to spare! Ain’t nothin’ gonna slow me down, especially when my friends need me!”
“Not even cake?” Celetia asked, innocently.
“Not even cake!” Pinkie proclaimed, proudly.
“Not even cake?” Celestia asked again, studiously ignoring the golden-shimmering platter of chocolate cake that had quietly gravitated into the air beside her.
“…maybe possibly cake,” Pinkie slowly reconsidered, tapping her hooves together pensively, “if it was really, really good,” she carefully amended.
“Mm, but I wonder how good it would need to be, exactly,” Celestia said as a nearby knife carefully sectioned the floating cake into eight perfect, pristine pieces, one of which quietly deposited itself onto a nearby plate, “for that to be the case.”
“Uh, well…I don’t know, exactly, Princess…” Pinkie said, her gaze fixed completely on the confection as it gracefully served itself onto the table, “as I think I’d need to try it. Very quickly, of course.”
“Mm. So I guess you probably wouldn’t want any of this one, then. Doubtless below your high baker’s standards,” Celestia sighed, a nearby fork arising to section off a single delicate piece; she took a bite. “Oh, mmhmhm; mhmm. Yes. No. Absolutely disgusting,” she said, refusing to subject poor Pinkie Pie to such an inferior edible. “You’d hate it.”
“Princesssssss,” Pinkie pouted, clearly dismayed. “Okay, okay! I would probably stop for at least long enough to enjoy your cake! It’s very good!”
“Even if the fate of the whorld wash hel in the balansh?” Celetia mouthed slightly awkwardly around yet another delectable slice. “Oh, gorsh, this ish good…”
“I’m sure destiny can mind itself for at least ten seconds! Which is long enough to enjoy at least one delectable slice of minty, zesty, incredibly delicious-zalishious chocolate cake!” Pinkie cried, becoming increasingly animated. To her mild horror, Celestia was moving on to a second slice. “A cake I would very much like to be eating right now!”
“What if Twilight was holding on to the edge of a cliff with just her front hooves?” Celestia said, thoroughly enjoying what was most assuredly an absolutely terrible cake. Slice number two was dwindling quickly.
“Twily is a big girl! She can look after herself!” Pinkie cried, her eyes growing quietly wider as piece number two quickly ceased to exist.
“Mmm.” Another bite. “Oh, by the Sun!” “Wha abou jush wan hoof? Mm, shorry, I need a napkin…”
“Big girl! Strong brain pony! Will figure it out!” Her eyes were wide. Panic was setting in. Not one, but two slices had just migrated from the serving plate to the Sacrificial Plate of Doom before Equestria’s royal highness.
“But wha abou - Mm, schuze me; what about no hooves? Just fell off, tumbling through the air, ground rushing up, whoo, three seconds until splat?” Celestia paused, taking the most delicate, princessly sip of her tea possible, before taking quite possibly the largest bite of cake that Pinkie was sure she had ever seen. That piece of cake had never seen it coming. The other merely awaited its’ inevitable fate.
Pinkie was sweating, hunched. She poured herself another cup of the incredibly soothing, delicate, relaxing tea, none of which was doing anything for her right now. There was only a quarter of the cake left. She stared into the surface of the amber liquid in her cup as if from a thousand miles away. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, Princess,” she murmured, quietly.
“Indeed,” Celestia agreed, nodding solemnly. The last quarter of the cake was hovering, slowly, angelically, onto her plate. “As sometimes they must.” Pinkie blinked; was that a tear, forming in the corner of her eye?
There was a moment of silence.
“How wonderful, then, that no such cake of any such quality could possibly exist,” Celestia breathed in a warm sigh of relief.
Pinkie stared at her, scarcely daring to breathe.
Celestia looked back at Pinkie Pie. Her eyes were searching, as if looking for something. Then she glanced down, down at the last, solitary, surviving piece of chocolate cake. Then she looked back up at Pinkie Pie.
With faintest, most tremulous of tiny smiles, Pinkie Pie dared to hope, to believe, that the Princess understood.
Celestia nodded. “Especially not this one,” she said, and swallowed the final slice whole.
Pinkie Pie was pretty sure she was screaming, but suddenly, her voice didn’t seem to be coming out. All that she could hear was a quiet, deeply horrified squeak.
“Well. I don’t know about you, but that was terrible,” the Princess harrumphed, licking her chops in the most satisfied way possible. “Glad I didn’t subject you to that.”
“You have my thanks,” Pinkie said, in the quietest, raspiest, most anguishedly polite voice possible. Her mane was flat, deflated, defeated. A single tear rolled down her cheek. All was lost.
“I’m so glad I saved this much better one for you,” Celestia continued. And with a sudden flash of her horn, there it was; stupendous, fantabulous, perfect - the largest, roundest, densest black forest chocolate cake that Pinkie Pie had ever seen.
She let out another voiceless squeak as everything in the world become suddenly fantastic again.
“But maybe save poor, hypothetically imperiled Twilight before you dig in, hmm?” she winked.
“Eh; she can just teleport to safety,” Pinkie replied with a shrug.
The cake did not survive.