by Honey Mead
***
“Nonononono!” Celestia sprinted, nearly flying, down the castle corridor. Guards and servants alike dove out of the stampeding monarch’s path. Gripped in her magic, a small, grey, stuffed pony clung desperately to life.
— Ten Minutes Earlier —
Celestia opened the closet door. For many this might have been a moment of comic relief as a veritable tsunami of junk washed over the unprepared pony. Fortunately for all involved, this is a much more serious story. Celestia and Twilight were both far too particular to have a closet that was anything but perfectly organized.
That did not, however, prevent them from accumulating quite a bit of junk along the way.
Before the mighty Sun Goddess stood an almost equally mighty collection of trinkets, baubles, clothes, knick-knacks, paddy-whacks, and other assorted and miscellaneous items that had managed to find their way into the princesses’ possession over their shared life.
That was about to change however, not their shared life, but the volume of stuff—this is not a sad story either.
In twenty minutes Twilight Sparkle would be arriving to help her wife perform the normally dull, though in this case both ponies were looking forward to it, task of spring cleaning. That was not to say that they did this every year. Truth be told, it had been more than a century since they’d attempted this monumental task—their closet being rather impressively large (it also helped to have ponies paid to do most of the actual cleaning).
Celestia had decided to get a jump start on the task because she was bored—it certainly had nothing to do with hiding that one embarrassing picture of Twilight that did not exist because if it did that would mean she’d lied to her wife and everypony knows that Celestia does not lie thank-you-very-much.
Thirty paces inside found Celestia digging through an impressively sized chest. Her magic shifted through the contents, shorting out the detritus that she was positive would not survive the day from the things that she considered worth keeping. Twilight would have to catch up, but she was sure that it would be a simple matter of agreeing and moving on to the rest of it. Down at the bottom, Celestia located what she was looking for. A small oak box polished to a shine.
She lifted the box in her field—there was no second flash of teleportation magic relocating a picture that did not exist from beneath the box and stop insinuating that there was. The box itself was not important. It was, after all, just a box. It was what it contained that gave Celestia pause. Inside, nestled comfortably within the velour lining, was Twilight’s old doll, Smartypants.
It was ancient by most standards. Were it not for the preservation magic it would have been little more than rotted old cloth. That wasn’t to say that it was pretty. It never had been. With button eyes and wool for mane and tail, the poor thing was meant for little fillies who would, as like as not, destroy it in a years time and not built to last. Twilight had managed to keep it together through her entire life—even before casting the preservation magic on it.
Celestia smiled as dust cleared from memories long since forgotten. Images blinked before her mind’s eye of a tiny filly clutching the ratty doll close where she fell asleep, face planted firmly in the binding of an old book. Extracting the doll, Celestia held it up before her eyes, letting it slowly rotate as she savoured the memories that it contained. Bringing Smartypants to her cheek, she squeezed it, inhaling the still lingering scent of her lover.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on Twilight’s face when she saw it.
The faint pop might as well have been an earthquake.
— Fifteen Minutes Later —
There were times it paid to be a princess. Like when you needed a doll older than most ponies repaired in less than five minutes.
Still, there were things that just couldn’t be rushed.
Celestia paced. It wasn’t a particularly good pace, the shop was too small for her long legs and she barely got started when she had to turn right back around. Her eyes flicked to the doll-maker every other second as she worked needle and thread. The wizened mare muttered constantly under her breath about rush jobs, thread textures, and popped seams. Celestia heard none of it.
Finally, with barely a minute to spare, the doll was presented to her, it’s stuffing repacked and seams as good as new. Celestia nearly squealed with joy as she dropped a bag of bits on the counter before disappearing in a flash of golden magic.
The doll-maker looked at the contents of the bag, had a minor heart attack, and retired the next day.
— Twenty Minutes Later —
Twilight clutched Smartypants tightly to her neck, tears wetting her eyes. When Celestia had passed her the box she’d not recognized it. When Celestia urged her to open it, she’d been trepidus—having fallen prey to Celestia’s mischievous sense of humor far too many times. Then she’d opened it.
How she’d forgotten about her lifelong companion of ages past. Unlike the opening of the closet door—The late night study sessions, the research papers, the science projects, all came flooding back in a tsunami.
The lovers shared a kiss and an embrace. It was super romantic… and it would have stayed that way for a while if Luna hadn’t chosen that moment to fly in through the balcony with something small and slightly glossy held in her magic.