//------------------------------// // Guarded // Story: Love, or Twilight Learns That Joy Wants Eternity // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// Celestia was having a dilemma. To be fair, she was more having a further complication of an existing dilemma, similar in a way that was amusing but only in the way that something stressful induces a startled laugh. To be fair, again, this newest crisis was really nothing more than the manifestation of the dilemma which had birthed it, which had festered, for lack of a better term, as she left it to lie unconfronted. Or, to put it more bluntly and without the convoluted circles she was mangling her thoughts in: Celestia had a dilemma, and that dilemma was roughly half herself and half Twilight Sparkle. She’d just… She’d said it clear as day. Just blurted it out. Invited another pony to join her in dreams. Just… just like that. The panic had set in about an hour later, after the impromptu nap and somewhere in the middle of the paper work, which she had finished on time—thank you very much!—when her mind began to wander. The newly formed Court of the Sun was, conservatively speaking, riotous. Dawn and Dusk alternated in spiralling worry. Dusk shouted at her that this would go horribly wrong! She wasn’t prepared! Her Court had lost its ancient stability! Noonday was gone, there was only the two of them and they barely knew themselves and each other and… and… Dawn fretted also in her other ear. She wasn’t emotionally ready to just open up like this, was she? She should be! Why wasn’t she? She was a terrible lover for this. Celestia stared out the window. She did this a lot, in fact. Staring out a window had many uses. For starters, most windows in her palace had a gneuinely excellent view of the city below and aesthetic pleasure, even overly familiar aesthetic pleasure, was good for the tired and ageless soul. An open window was a good excuse to not have to move, much in the same way a couch or chair was. If she tried very hard, Celestia could look regal and noble enough to fool ponies not in the know that she was lost in deep and imperious thoughts and wasn’t to be bothered. They were also good for having minor crises of the heart, providing a nominally soothing backdrop for rather un-soothing lines of introspection. Her dreaming was private. Sacred. Inviolate, by a certain definition of inviolate. The only visitor it had ever known was Luna, and she was family and therefore did not count. Twilight would be the first. It had been a long, long time since she had done something or contemplated doing something and been able to say definitively that it was a first of any sort for her. She couldn’t stand here forever, Dusk said, fretting still. Eventually, Twilight would come looking for her. She’s visiting her mother, Celestia groused internally. There’s no way in the deep hells that Velvet is going to let her daughter go without a lot of catching up. I have some time to get ready. There was not enough time, literally, in the world, Dawn assured her. Celestia wasn’t angry so much as she was frustrated with herself, her Court, her… her everything. I have had lovers before. I’ve been married… how many times? I can’t believe I don’t know off the top of my head. Twenty-one, Dawn offered helpfully. She blinked. Only that many? Over such a long stretch of centuries? There was a awkward shuffling of feet. They all knew why immediately, of course. They were all her in the end, together, yet separate. It was Dusk who, with a slight silent cough, broke the stalemate. Celestia had had many lovers, but few had succeeded long enough to convince her to enter into the dangerously binding situation of actual, official, in-front-of-everypony-and-a-few-griffons-ever engagement of matrimony for a very good reason. Because Celestia had a hard time moving past things. She huffed and left the window. There was no point in trying to think her way through this. The Court was useless. Thinking in this case was useless. She would occupy her time with something calming and mindnumbing in equal measure. Chess with Luna, perhaps. She needed to speak to her sister anyway, didn’t she? No backing out now. So she crossed over to the other side of the palace. Luna’s schedule ran mostly opposed to her own, which was more or less natural and more or less eternal. The sun and the moon spent but a brief time sharing the sky, after all, did they not? Even before the moon and the sun had chosen them, the sisters had enjoyed different paces and moods. So it was natural and normal, yes, but Celestia still found herself wishing it was not true. Luna got up around dinner, and had a brief moment with her sister before seeing to the moon’s ascension. They tried to set aside a few hours uninterrupted, but Luna had been gracious about that time when Twilight visited. It was a bit early, but not too much. She came to the door of Luna’s suite and knocked on it twice. There was no answer. Puzzled, Celestia waited a few moments. She counted to ten in what she would be very quick to assure anypony watching was a very, very patient manner, and reached out to knock again. Only for the door to be pulled open midway through the first knock to Luna staring blearily at her, rubbing her eyes. Her mane had none of the usual glamor that caused to flow like it had been caught in the solar wind, and there were no stars or anything else. Her Glory was quite sealed up for the night, thank you. “You.” Celestia coughed, and managed a sheepish sort of smile. “Ah, yes. Me. Celestia! Your beloved sister.” “You came between shifts… Hold on,” Luna grumbled, and then yawned before finishing. “Sorry, between shifts. So the guards couldn’t tell you. Court went long and I had some things to deal with, so I’m not entirely ready yet.” Luna rubbed her eyes, sitting down on her haunches. “Are you alright?” Awkwardness vanished. “What sort of things? Might I know? I could make you—” “You could make me a cliche,” Luna groused. “Which I will appreciate regardless and thank you for, even as I mock you for your predictability. Yes, you can do that. In fact, you should just go the whole way and I’ll eat breakfast. I doubt I’ll be getting back to sleep.” Luna summoned her ladies in waiting whilst Celestia found her sister’s ornate tea set and did just that. Luna returned, with a young batpony mare by her side, and looked her brighter sibling over. “You’re here for something important. I’m going to guess. Two guesses. It’s either Twilight or it’s your court.” Celestia frowned. “Can’t I simply visit you?” “You can,” Luna said, and then smirked. “But we both know that you’d just wait until dinner for that. It’s alright, either way. But if I’m to be roused from my bed, I’ll need a soak. You can cry to me about your lover while I do.” Celestia chuckled despite herself and followed Luna and her servant into the baths. Each of the sisters had a large bath to accommodate their size, and over the years what had started as reasonable arrangements had become frankly more spa-like in nature than anything else. Some ponies had questioned why there was a whole separate set of obviously-princess-sized bathing rooms but few had ever thought to ask. Now they knew. Luna lounged in the great tub while her young lady in waiting hummed happily and washed her mane, devoid of its starry glow. Celestia brought the stool from her sister’s boudoir and sat towards the door. Briefly, just briefly, it was like being somewhere very different, back in the past. She coughed. “Remember Phandal?” Celestia asked. Luna, with her eyes closed but her contented smile slipping, hummed. “Aye, I do.” “I just remembered the inn there. Whatever happened to that town?” “Blasted,” Luna replied, a bit gruffly. The servant who had been happily going about her task faltered a bit, and Luna opened her eyes. She stared at the wall. “Blasted and scorched and what have you. Purged. We lost it right after Discord. The Fellclaw crisis. The fire-cats.” Celestia caught the eye of the servant and nodded for her to continue. “It comes back to me. I was remembering it from before, when we were still wandering. How the pretty barmaid offered to wash your mane once. Do you recall?” Luna chuckled. “Oh, I recall a lot about that night. But I wouldn’t dare tarnish the pure mind of my dear Hyacinth here,” she added. The servant flushed and mumbled something and Celestia tried to catch it while also holding back a laugh. “I don’t blame you. Though the young are hardly innocent, these days.” “You’d know ‘bout that more than I would, sister,” Luna said, not bothering to look over. “You’ve quite a lot more experience with the youth of the last century or so, wouldn’t you say? All sorts of valuable and personal experience.” “You’re terrible,” Celestia shot back, but she smiled briefly. “Though not as much as you’d think.” “Boo. And here I was hoping to cash in on your great debt in exchange for steaming tales of romance sub rosa. Hyacinth, would you use the sandalwood scent this time ‘round? And is it Moonshine’s night?” “Ah, no ma’am. Well, I mean, yes usually. But she’s sick.” “Ah, blast. Can you preen?” The mare stammered for a moment, and then meekly responded. “Yes, I can certainly try.” “Have you before?” Celestia asked. “Uh, no, your highness. I mean, not for my lady. I practiced a few times. Madame Duster suggested it when I entered my lady’s personal service.” “Wise of her,” Luna murmured. “You’ll do. And if you do not? I am capable of doing it myself, so fear not.” When she had finished, Hyacinth dried her off and Luna and Celestia found themselves in her sitting room. Hyacinth poured tea, and Luna sighed while Celestia took in her surroundings. She’d forgotten what the room used to look like. Her younger sister had poured herself into redecorating when she’d returned, using it as a way of reintegrating with mundanity. It was far more ornate than her own sitting room, which was intentionally unassuming and homely. Luna’s space was filled with fine craftsmareship and art of all sorts. “I’m going to assume that Twilight is what bothers you.” “Actually,” Celestia said, her eyes following Hyacinth, “it’s both. Twilight and my Court. I invited her to mine to help her make sense of her own.” Luna whistled. “Hyacinth, do be a dear and excuse yourself for now. Tell Parfait that I said you could have anything you’d like from the kitchens, and then wait for me in the main room. Is that alright?” “Of course.” The mare bowed deeply to both of them and then retreated quietly. “She’s a good filly,” Luna said as the door closed behind her. “Easily flustered, but otherwise dependable. Go on.” Celestia shifted nervously, a bit of her momentum lost. But not for long. She would not have lasted if she could not recover quickly. “Twilight’s court is not yet formed,” she began. “Which is not that surprising, really. It’s not what I had hoped, but I’m not exactly shocked. It’s a lot of mental rearranging.” “If you are not shocked or dismayed…” Celestia held up a hoof. “I know, I know. I’m stalling. Just trying to set the stage. Twilight is a bit frustrated. Or, well. Perhaps not frustrated so much as… Reading between the lines, I sense that she is not engaging herself and her court as she should be for a reason that I should have foreseen: she has nothing to go off of. Twilight Sparkle is a brilliant young mare, but she tends to fall back on what she knows rather then surging forward to discover. Confronted with something new and unexpected, Twilight will often retreat back into familiar territory—a book, perhaps—even without realizing it.” Luna nodded. She seemed to be lost in contemplation, and Celestia followed her eyes to a painting of a primeval forest, forbidding and streaked with early sunlight. It tugged at her memory, but Luna’s voice intruded on her remembrance. “So. Have you thought how you might aid her? And I chose my words carefully. I trust you know that this is not something you can ‘do’ for her.” “I’m aware,” Celestia said with a frown. “And I have.” “Then let me hear your plan, dearest sister.” “I’m here to ask you to help me… Help me take Twilight with me into the dreaming.” Luna had been sipping at tea but she stopped and carefully, perhaps a bit too gingerly, set her saucer down. “I… You are decided?” “I promised,” Celestia said, solemnly. “My word,” Luna whispered. “I had not expected this. Truly?” “Truly.” Luna seemed to hesitate, her eyes darting from the painting to Celestia and then away somewhere else, her lip tucked tightly between her teeth. “I can help,” she said at last. “But I am unsure how to feel. Excited? Perhaps. Interested? Decidedly. This is unprecedented for you.” “I’m very, very well aware of that.” Luna waved her off. “I know, I know. I am simply thinking aloud, Tia. It’s just a bit of a twist, don’t you think? But I’ll be happy to help.” Celestia relaxed, but Luna continued. “On one condition.” “And that would be?” “Are you alright with this? Do you consent to it? I have… A certain code regarding such things. If you merely feel obligated, then I will help you talk to Twilight. Or I will take the blame and play the villain. I will not do this if you are not willing to share this with your lover.” Celestia groaned softly. “I do. I don’t. I… I am torn. I want to want to, if you follow. I want to be able to just throw open the doors of my heart and just let anypony at all in! I want so badly to just… to just be alright with saying, ‘Sure, Twilight! I’ll go ask Luna and I would love to have you visit!’ but I just cannot be that Celestia. I’m nervous. I feel violated and it hasn’t even happened yet. This relationship is so new and it is so different and it’s been so long since last I was in love with anyone. Too long! So long I’m tongue tied and confused all over again.” Luna hummed. “An alternative,” she said at length. “I have a proposal.” “All ears,” Celestia replied, sighing. Luna leaned back, and absurdly Celestia was reminded of a cat. A specific cat, in fact—the one Luna herself used to have far too long ago. It would perch on her shoulders and seem to smile at her in just the way that Luna now smiled at her, as if picking her apart piece by piece like a tinkerer would inspect a watch. “Have her come unto me,” Luna began, “after the evening meal, when things have quieted and the night is full. Before you two retire, of course,” she added. “And I shall speak to her. Torn as you are, you will go from pole to pole until you have made yourself sick of yourself, and will have accomplished little. I know your moods.” She paused, and Celestia wondered why, but then Luna continued as if nothing had happened. “I shall decide, if you agree. You shall spend the rest of the night with your beloved, and then… well. You shall see. Either way, it has been far too long since I have spoken to Twilight at length. I believe it will benefit us all rather well.” Celestia pursed her lips and considered it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Luna’s judgement. It was simply that she didn’t trust Luna’s judgement. Which was a slightly too harsh way of saying that she found it difficult to fully trust anypony’s judgement beyond a certain point. “You are wary,” Luna said with a smirk. And, of course, showing a bit of fang. A fascinating bit of living history, that. Celestia had never quite understood it. Oh, she very much understood the how and the original why, but not the continued why. Both sisters had changed their appearances many times over the years, and yet since… well. She didn’t want to think about Him. Not at present. Or really, not ever. Never thinking about Him would be nice. “Wary is not the word I would use,” Celestia said. “What word would you use?” Luna asked, leaning forward a bit, engaging from her indolent position sprawled out. The dice were spinning, which alarmed her. Roll, roll, roll. She was no longer sure if the dice were real and if she really heard them or not, but they were Established. Roll, Celestia, they said. Roll. Celestia to many was a chess player. But she had always been a gambler. She rolled. “Guarded,” she said simply. “Guarded would be better. On a most basic level, because I am a very private pony. More broadly, because it is a sensitive thing that we are dancing around and we both know exactly why. Even more broadly, because sometimes I am slow to trust and despite my best efforts to be a better sister, I still sometimes worry.” Luna’s smirk dropped. They were both silent for a moment. And then the younger sister leaned back. “Good,” she said at last. “Good. I’m glad, honestly. I will not pretend I am not a bit put out, but sometimes I think perhaps you accepted me far too quickly. It worries me. Less, of course, because of what I’ll do…” “You said as much a year back.” “I’ll say it a time or two before the end of things, I suspect.” “Be that as it may, I’ll accept your offer,” Celestia said. “On the condition that you do not embarrass me by spreading any ridiculous tales about me to Twilight. And… Hm. I believe that I might add on this: Be not merely a conduit for us, but consider inviting her yourself.” Luna’s brow furrowed. “I can think of an aspect who might make her visit unpleasant. Or two. Or three.” “We do not love ponies in parts but in wholes. The rest is indecision.” “Perhaps. I shall consider it.” Celestia rose and sighed. “Thank you. I have some things to attend to, and to be honest I’m sure you’d like to have a few more minutes of rest.” Luna chuckled. “I was planning to take to bed as soon as you departed. Well timed, as always.” “I had a feeling.” “You always do.” Celestia resisted the urge to frown. They locked eyes again. They smiled. All quiet on the Lunar front. As she left her sister’s quarters, Celestia wondered how long they would walk softly around each other. It was not as if they sniped across rooms, or bathed in angst or were harsh with one another. If anything, Celestia was far more attentive and generally more polite to her sister than she had ever been. But civility did not immediately breed familiarity. It merely made the process more pleasant. Usually. It was not that they were estranged. That would be going too far. It was not that they were at odds, for they were not. It was not that they did not love each other, for even if she found herself enraged at the very idea of Luna, which she did not, erasing millenia of love and joy is a thing that perhaps not even alicorns can do. Alicorns, be they alicorn or merely alicorn, be they of Jannah or of birth, are not limitless. And so, likewise, was her compassion and patience limited. It was not fair. Most things that involved ponies were not fair at some level. It was at best rude to be blunt with Luna. But it was also necessary for now. They had decided this in tandem. The less they danced around sores and wounds the less time they would have to spend being anything other than inseparable. She had heard a sage in the West, destitute in the red cliffs of Valon, preach to an amused crowd that all was change and that change was all; as nothing was constant so nothing could be repeated. But sir, one cheek asked, can we not repair a broken vessel? But is it the same vessel? He asked. They laughed at him. Celestia had rolled her eyes. But she thought about it a lot. She thought about the dirty street speculator and the broken vase he carried held together by branching gold.