Celerity (noun): The quality of being rapid, swift, brisk. From the Hipponian, keles, a fast horse or ship.
During the spring, they’d been awoken each morning by proud, boasting birdsong on the balcony outside their room. Rarity supposed the latticework of its thick stone balustrade was the most-desirable avian real estate in Equestria, by virtue of being closest to the princess; and if they wanted to boast of being close to her, well, Rarity of all ponies couldn’t blame them.
The birds had served as a less-reliable alarm clock throughout the summer, and failed them entirely now, in the leafless tail end of autumn. An alarm clock, unfortunately, was the one thing Celly wouldn’t tolerate in her bedroom. “The most barbarous invention Equestria has ever suffered,” she called it; alternately, “my slave-driver,” or, “that which must be obeyed.” Before its invention, morning had come when Celestia jolly well wanted it to, and nopony could say she was wrong. Now even the sun had been trained to rise on a regular schedule, and it peeked over the horizon at their bedroom window with just the deepest purple of its rays, waiting eagerly for its master to take it for a walk across the sky.
“Rise and shine,” Rarity said, prodding Celestia’s big white flank. She carefully gauged her pressure to be not quite enough to get Celly out of bed. It would be a shame, after all, to prod that flank only once.
Without opening her eyes, Celestia reached out with one hoof, snatched Rarity’s pillow away, and dragged it over her head.
There were elements of the Equestrian press, such as that The Daily—shameless rag—which had little sense of lèse-majesté. Every piece of cake Celly had would somehow find its way onto the front page, usually accompanied by a photograph of Her Majesty’s hindquarters, taken through some sort of distorting lens. Their continual snarks about her tea “habit” were not, Rarity thought, in good taste. And “taste” had not even been in their vocabulary, unless it were in a lewd sense, back when she and Celly had begun their liaison. But there was one palace secret not even the tabloids would dare publish: Princess Celestia was not a morning pony.
“Now, what would our old friend Mister Robin think if he knew you were sleeping in while he was away?” Rarity chided. “After all the years he’s spent training you.”
“'s a different robin,” Celestia muttered from under her pillow.
“What? What do you mean, a different robin?”
Celestia did not elaborate, so Rarity prodded her again, a little more sharply. Celestia pulled herself into a ball and pressed the pillow more tightly against her ears.
Rarity smiled. She was going to get to do a lot of prodding this morning.
She draped herself over Celestia’s exposed back and drew one hoof slowly along her flank. “What would the nobleponies say,” she said, “if they knew that the start of the new day, all their business, all their plans—the fate of the Empire, really—depended on me getting you out of bed?”
A white foreleg reached back and arrested Rarity’s. “You’re not trying to get me out bed,” Celestia said from beneath her pillow. “You’re trying to keep me in bed.”
Rarity ran her horn up and down Celestia’s neck, combing her mane.
Her Majesty, Eldest Princess of Equestria, groaned, wiped the drool from her mouth, raised her head to look back at Rarity, and blinked stupidly as the stolen pillow fell beside her.
Rarity nibbled gently at the royal ear.
“Well,” Celestia said, “I don't suppose it would hurt the sun to wait a few more minutes.”
.
.
“What did you mean,” Rarity asked more than a few minutes later as Celestia sat in front of the vanity set and she re-did Celestia’s mane with a proper brush, “a different robin?” The hairs throbbed under her strokes, and often curled back around the brush and towards Rarity, but she was firm about mane care and could not be distracted.
“Wormbiter and Twig Sculptor didn’t come back this year,” Celestia said. “This is a different pair.”
“You named them?”
“No. Those are their names.”
Rarity paused, holding the brush out to the side.
“Rare?” Celestia asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Rarity said, resuming her even strokes through the long flowing rainbow. “It’s just—when they were just birds, it seemed natural that they should come and go. But it’s a little sad now that they have names.”
Celestia pushed the brush aside, turned, and raised her head to nuzzle the underside of Rarity’s neck. “You’re precious. But the best way to honor the pretty things is to enjoy them while we can, Rarity. You of all ponies should understand that.”
Rarity reached up and stroked Celestia’s chin with one hoof. Then she froze.
“Dear?” Celestia asked.
“Nothing,” Rarity said. She pulled the brush back in and began tugging it urgently through Celestia’s mane.
“Dear?” Celestia repeated, leaning back far enough to look her in the eye.
“Well…” She set the brush on the desk. “It’s just… oh, I know I was terribly shallow when we began seeing each other, Celly.” She laughed, quietly but crystal-clear. “I really don’t know what you saw in me! But I certainly hope you don’t imagine, after all these years, that I think of you as just a pretty thing.”
Celestia said nothing, and turned her face away.
Rarity bit her lip, and set her forehooves on Celestia’s shoulders, giving her a quick hug before patting her on the back and sending her outside to start the new day.
Oh. That really was beautifully done - and Rarity really is a gorgeous bird.
I wish you'd made this its own story so I could favorite it on its own.
5658012
I've seen a somewhat longer version of this story, which makes it much more (or possibly less?) tragic.
I do know the feeling that drove Bad Horse to want to post this.
Ah well. As a famous man once said:
5658414 It seems tragic enough as is. Leaving it as it is now definitely lets the realization draw out at the tragic nature of their relationship. But I am curious...
Eagerly awaiting the possible full length version
there are not enough Rarelestia stories.
Really want to see the longer version of this.
Now here's a ship I haven't seen sailed! I'm always interested in what can float and you're just so good at tragedy... and romance is best when it's half comedy, half tragedy to me! I think I would very much like to see where you would go with this. I'm feeling in a carthatic mood and I'm sure this will be heart breaking much as 5658414 points out. Now where did I put that port as dark as my enemy's heart, as sweet as summer love, and as bitter as winter's cold? That's the drink I'll need for this!
I wonder what the ending was supposed to imply. Was Celestia's non-answer supposed to mean that she thinks of Rarity as just a pretty thing?
5667643
Not just a pretty thing, I don't. But there is the implication that they should both enjoy the romance as much as they can, before Rarity, well.... Celestia, afterall, has lived a very long time.
Rarity, won't.
(Probably)
So. Yes. The reiterate what I said on the blog, this is a thing you should expand.
This is a nice little bit of lyricism: every line conspires to convey the mood and advance the theme of the piece
I'd like to see more, if only to discover what drew Celestia and Rarity together. I know that "opposites attract" but it's usually a very curious set of circumstances that allows those opposites to satisfy that attraction.
One quibble, if I may: "began seeing each other" seems a bit mundane for a relationship between a virtue personified and a solar myth. Perhaps "began their liaison...?"
(You know, like mayonnaise...which is white like both Celestia and Rarity...oh and hey it's made of egg (sun-symbol!) and oil, which is...hmmm, smooth, voluptuous, used for anointing...oh it works on so many levels!...)
5675236
Agreed. Are the italics legit when the word is in English dictionaries? Though I like the idea that Rarity would want it to still be a foreign word when she uses it.
Is it possible to request a link to the longer version? I am all a-curious
5676684 I'm not happy with the longer version, but it's here. The long-long version I'm thinking of writing would be very different.
5677620
I've never thought of a story like that. The idea that Alicorns are immortal is commonplace, but the idea of marrying and remarrying?
How many times could Celestia have done that before? Or Luna, for that matter?
5684582
Cadence?
(Somewhere I read a fic with that as a background premise. Don't remember what it was called, of course. Distinctive, popular mirror universe--not EqG, not genderflip but like genderflip--Solar Flare rather than NMM. Lunaverse maybe it was in? Main premise was... nearly had a war with the Lunar Empire, I believe.)
5684582 Everyone's different, but in general, there's no reason that such an immortal would have to forego relationships simply because she's immortal.
Canon Celestia's been shown to be wise enough (although everyone makes mistakes now & then--Canterlot Wedding) and emotionally mature enough to know she would not love subsequent lovers any less or more than previous ones, nor would she ever forget those past loves.
This story presents Rarity as maybe just coming to grip with that sort of reality
This really is as lovely and fleeting as its namesake.
Ceeeeeleeeeesssstiiiiiiaaaaaaa? Got something on the tip of your tongue?