Higher.... A little to the left.... There! The sun beamed brightly, seeming as happy to find itself gliding along its familiar path as she was to put it there. Another perfect start to another perfect day.
She allowed herself one brief ladylike shake of her mane before trotting off toward the royal gardens. Off at the northern archway leading into the keep she saw Bright Eyes, her chief minister, snort in frustration as he watched her go. Oh, there was so much to do today! And that would make it all the more fun not to do it!
Her guards stood stiffly at attention as she passed. She would have loved to stop and ask how their day was, how the wife and kids were, and if that golden armor wasn't just a little bit hot now that her sun was climbing its way towards the top of the sky. But she knew they wouldn't like that. They wanted her to be perfect and above them, so they could simply delight in her presence. And she could be that for them.
It wasn't as easy as it seemed, being a god. It wasn't what she had expected.
But she mustn't dwell on that. Happy thoughts, Celestia! Rainbows and unicorns!
The wrens and finches were in the garden, politely taking turns singing. That was how birds ought to behave. Birdsong was beautiful and transcendent. Not in her world would it be used to mark out territory, to warn off lust-filled competitors this is MY tree this is MY bitch stay aWAY I'll peck your EYES out—
She gasped as she felt the bloody intentions trickle out of her mind and leak into the world. The songs turned harsh and raucous. She staggered, grasping for control of her thoughts, while she felt the darkness inside her surging upward, sensing a chance to escape—it wasn't FAIR!—One finch cocked his head at another, eyes narrowed, then leapt forward into the air toward his rival—Luna could go far away and let her feelings ALL OUT but she had to stay here and look out for these DAMN PONIES and—
Think happy thoughts.
She regained her footing and stood up straight, panting. A sickly yellowish haze that had gathered about her blew away in the gentle breeze. A patch of withered, brown grass extending several yards around her slowly uncurled its blades as a healthy bright green color spread up once more from its roots.
There. Finches and wrens, singing a four-part interspecies harmony, with the females on alto and soprano and the males on tenor and bass. The way things ought to be.
She drew a deep breath and raised one hoof to wipe her brow.
Then she pranced around to the front of the castle, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, or merely admiring from a distance those too subtle for her nose. Her royal sleigh was waiting exactly where it should be, with one white pegasus stallion at each of its four corners, every bright feather in place, awaiting her orders. And though it was such a lovely day that she was tempted to spread her own wings and leap into the air right where she was, she knew how disappointed they would be. So she sprang gracefully into the sleigh, and smiled at each of her escorts in turn, and said, "To Ponyville, my dear ponies!"
They rose into the air, and she sat on a red silk cushion and looked out at her lands below her, fields and forests in a checkerboard of bright and dark green, and she knew—knew—in each field and in each home were happy little ponies, and they loved her, and she would not let them down. It was going to be another beautiful day.
She gritted her teeth.