Sunpsyche, sunshadow
For as long as she had taken stallions as her lovers, Princess Celestia had been entranced by them. They were creatures free of daintiness, but packed with manners. She needed those manners as much as her stallions did. They were the addictive stuff of smarm slipping sweetly down her throat with every spoonful. She bonded with them by drinking it all in. Nothing told her more about a pony than what they were manufactured to become, or if they chose to act a way at all, to give into the herd-mind that demanded a life be so sunshine-sweet and neatly made.
She loved that as much as her heart melted when her lovers were debasing themselves. Stallions submitting to new levels of graciousness in parody, submitting to her in every way they could. The overflowing humility brought tears to her eyes and stirred her heart like nothing else. It made her head fuzzy with what she decided to call love (and maybe some distraction too). There was no beauty that could exist to her without submission and humility, without the sense of pulling a loved one farther away from her than they ever had any right to be and watching them simper that they were so close, and wished to be closer still. She needed that more than the blood in her body.
The Princess was not one for hugs. She offered as many as were needed to Faithful Students when they were young, but she couldn't ever recall herself wanting any of them, only the normality and stability that they brought. She was hugging Garret right now, sweeping him into her with one wing like it was a curtain of mercy. Her head was propped atop his crying head in a stiff position that she found uncomfortable, and that discomfort was what stuck with her. Yet, Garret said nothing. He simply wept in bouts as she made coos and hums, unable to bring herself to veer into the honesty of the situation. She wasn't even sure if she knew how; all she wanted was for Garrett to be happy again.
This was not the first proposal she rejected. It wouldn't be the last. That was what she was reminded of when her tail brushed alongside the fallen box. She was never ready. She had never been ready. How could she be ready? Since when had she ever been wanting of this? Never, and her relationships were no less real for not being married.
Something else undermined them.
She kept herself immaculate, always. Her eyes were closed, as if in mourning. But, she would not, could not cry. She never did in times like this. She could not whether she had an audience or not.
Princess Celestia knew she felt about as organic as an automata here. It coursed through her every joint, from her cutie mark, to the tips of her ears, and eventually to her hooves in their pristine golden boots. Garrett didn't notice. Bless his innocence, he never complained about her. He worshipped her just like every male she had ever been with. He wept like this was a breakup, and yet tonight they would lie down to sleep together, and in the morning they would wake up right where they had been.
Beneath all her pretenses, she knew how she was horrendous at comforting others. Such a thing was thrown back at her every time she tried. Opening her curtains at night gave her one of the most glaring examples, and yet it had never stopped there nor did it begin there. Funerals, sentiment, failures, and more, all of them were woven in with ordinary life even if the first was more of a mortals-only affair. Immortality did not do this. Most immortals teemed with more life and magic than Princess Celestia found appropriate. The most lively of them all had the most potential for despair, and look where it got her. Look where Princess Celestia sent her. For Princess Celestia, there was something else at play. She lived her whole life like it was just that, a play. She offered all the niceness she could, and she was truly filled with niceness. Yet, comforting took skills she could only feign (and had been complimented for across eras) and a heart she liked to tell herself she was uncertain about whether she had it or not.
There are many things that should never be admitted, and the whole bundle of woes around comfort was one of them. She had no right to admit that to herself, no right to hurt herself that way as Garret buried his beak in her feathers and wept. There was no time to admit a deficit in herself of what everpony said she had. That was enough magic for her to believe she had those qualities, and yet here she was, as cold as she could be in an embrace and as dissociated as possible from everything she might have to fear, including fear itself. It was somepony else who was always to have sincere emotional connections and explorations with others, especially the wayward and rejected who were permanently inaccessible to Princess Celestia. That mare had been the Element of Honesty, the one that Princess Celestia hated the most.
She had been the Element Kindness, and she always would be. This was just one of the many moments in which she had to live up to that Element instead of its opposite. And she always had.
Princess Celestia loved stallions like a dragon loved their treasure hoard, and she treated her romantic companions in the same way. They were spoiled beyond measure, with a wealth of attention and material goodness. She could over them no less. The stallions were always those whose wildest dreams stopped at something like going out to a derby box and having a seat next to her. A relationship with her, bedding her, all of that was beyond their wildest dreams. They were her collection, and her memories with her lovers could stir more in her than any jewel a dragon might drool over.
But she would never, ever marry any of them for far more reasons than the fact that her power was not to be shared. To make love to somepony as precious as Garrett was one thing, but marriage was where wax wings melted. There was no comfort to be found in such a notion.
Princess Celestia drew Garret tighter and buried her muzzle in his great mop of feathers. They had been together so long that they were starting to go gray. Since she wasn't crying, she could tell. He couldn't have known. That's what she told herself over and over. They only lived together for decades, they had only been in love for decades, to her it made sense to think that he couldn't have really known her. Most ponies used questions because they wanted to open doors of conversation. Princess Celestia only ever asked them when she wanted to close those doors.
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who drew this cover? she is beautiful.
11591429
The source is linked with the image. Mouse over it and you’ll find it. I always credit cover artists.
11591433
uh... no, i only get cdn-fimfiction.net format link
11591436
You have to mouse over the corner: https://derpibooru.org/images/1549579
11591442
Thanks a lot
Damn, need to get to writing pronto. There is so much to explore with the character.
Good read
11591450
The joke is on you! I’m always writing inside my head!
11591452
Me too, as well as taking notes 😒
There is just not enough time to sit down and give it all...
11591453
It’s getting it into the computer that’s the hard part.
This part was funny to me because I actually relate to Celestia here but for wholly different reasons. Like her, I find no comfort in the idea of marriage. It has no value in my eyes due to how much society smothered the luster out of it.
11591572
It’s understandable that everyone has different feelings on it. That’s what this story is about, after all.
Mortal relationships to an immortal are quite different when faced with their inevitable termination. Everyone copes in their own ways.
So throughout my couple of years on FiMFic, a few authors have stood out to me as exemplars of a particular niche: Scampy for mad gay and/or mad sad Wallflower, applejackofalltrades for sledgehammer-heavy feels, shortskirtsandexplosions for philosophical depth/abstract insanity, etc. And I think I’ve figured out where you fit into this list, the niche subgenre that you can always be counted on to deliver a pitch-perfect example of:
Celestiangst.
Your writing here has a real sense of poise. The eloquent and occasionally archaic language feels exceptionally ‘Celestia’, and almost mirrors the Princess herself by evoking a feeling of distance. A removal from reality, from being grounded. And yet, that very first paragraph makes her come across as quite terribly fallible, human even (or equine, I guess), and not in a pleasant way. She seems… petty, almost.
I must ask, what’s the significance of the struck-through sentences? They come across like repressed memories being forced back down, but the third-person perspective makes me doubt my interpretation here. It’s a great use of narrative voice, regardless.
There’s something about the contradiction here that kind of entrances me. About the clashing relationship between the mortal and the immortal, the comfort born from rejection, and the petty, shallow, treat-your-stallion-with-wealth-beyond-measure Princess clashing with the age-old, wise-beyond-words, tormented-by-her-past Princess. Lovely short piece.
11648337
I'm genuinely surprised by this -- you're the first person to tell me that you know me for this. Most people tell me that they know me for how I've written other characters or particular stories. Most of the latter aren't ones that deal with Celestia except as a secondary character.
Thoughts she does not want to acknowledge and is trying to repress, basically. Nagging, unwanted truths.