The Meaning of Love

by TheJackOfTales

Celestia's Love

When Princess Luna and Twilight began dating, no one was more excited than Celestia. For Faust’s sake, she even threw a party. Not a Pinkie Pie party, but a Princess Celestia party. Homemade cake, homemade cupcakes, at least two parade floats and a hot air balloon ride that was somehow hidden from teh greater Equestrian population. The reason being was clear: After a thousand years, Princess Luna, known for being a recluse even before her banishment, had found love in Celestia’s pupil, and Celestia’s pupil, a known recluse herself before discovering the magic of friendship, had begun to find the magic of love. This called for the celebration of celebrations, and the greatest of support.

Now, even Celestia knew when wingmareing could get overbearing, and after two weeks of incessantly reminding Luna about date ideas that Twilight was thinking about since she was a foal and her favorite hobbies and books as conversation starters, she let the two of them relax for a week or two as she prepared her next scheme to connect them closer together. Even if it was physically impossible to have actual nieces, she wanted mental nieces. To be able to cherish the thought that for all eternity, her sister would be able to find the love she was never able to claim.

So why was it then, that within those two weeks, she found her pupil standing before her with tears streaming down her face, asking her what the meaning of love was?

“Twilight, what do you mean?” Asked Celestia, whose golden magic was already preparing the best of accommodations for her student, pillows, blankets, chairs, and tables set up exactly as she had them since she was a foal, away from the stuffiness of the traditional royal interior decorating setup. At this moment, she feared for the worst.

“Is my sister hurting you?” She asked sternly, judging Twilight’s body language in an attempt to ensure that even if she lied with her words, which she would never do, her face and hooves would betray her.

“No, Celestia, It’s just that..” Twilight wiped the tears from her eyes, relaxing in a veritable throne of pillows and blankets. “I’m not sure if I love her like she loves me. It’s all just so CONFUSING!” Twilight stated.

“When we talk, it feels like I never have the correct words to say, conversations jumping left and right, stopping and starting. Sometimes I feel this horrid generational gap between me and someone who, although a thousand of those years were spent on the moon, has far more wisdom and experience than I do and I’m scared each moment I’m disappointing her.” Twilight continued. Celestia could notice she was about to fall into an unending spiral of thought, interrupting her casually.

“Are you sure it’s not simply nervousness?” She asked. “From what I understand of the subject, It’s perfectly normal to be awkward around the one you love. If Luna is the Luna I’ve known and loved, she adores you all the same, and likely understands your frustrations.”

“But Celestia, that’s exactly the problem. I know she loves me. I don’t know if I love her. At least, I don’t know if I love her more than I love you, or my brother, or Cadance, or the girls or the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I don’t know if I love Luna like a friend, a sibling, or a lover, and I don’t know how I’d prove it either way.” Twilight said, her left eyebrow furrowing. That hadn’t happened since the first week after she hatched Spike, where she attempted to repeat the trick to Celestia to ‘prove it wasn’t just a fluke’.

“Twilight, I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer you need, or at least, not all of it.” Celestia began, magically levitating a massive tome that despite being immaculately maintained, had to be at least two thousand years old judging from the changes in Ponish compared to the modern ways of speaking. “Move closer, Twilight, you’ll want to see this.” Twilight did so, scootching towards Celestia as she was still on her pillow throne. Celestia flipped to the first page, revealing a picture of a suede eath pony stallion with short, light brown hair and a cutie mark of a golden spyglass. On the corner of the photograph was a nearly illegible date.

“Photographs? But I thought those weren’t invented until recently. Well, they’re still pretty old but, not two thousand years old,” remarked Twilight. “This had to be created with an old-timey spell, right?”

“Correct, Twilight. And a dangerous one at that. If you aren’t too careful, your memories can be lost in the pages forever,” Celestia continued flipping pages, now at a rapid rate. Soon, the faces and dates became a blur, each individual melding into a collective as the book closed as soon as it began, all of the uncountable pages of ponies and other creatures Celestia had met since Luna’s banishment and the years they encompassed being crossed within an instant.

“Twilight, my form of Love is one you should never give to Luna alone. It is not the love I show to you nor my sister. It is the love of a princess to her subjects, a duty, not a romance. It is more akin to the love of a parent or child, only in my case I’m more akin to an absentee. My love to my little ponies is seen and felt through my actions and words, and yet it is colder than any other love I could give.” Celestia stated.

“Then, what kind of love should I give to Luna? And how am I supposed to know if I even have it?” Twilight asked. The tears had now dried, but she wasn’t satisfied with such an empty answer.

“I’d imagine Cadance would be better at that question than I. Why not consult her?”