//------------------------------//
// Chapter 23 
// Story: The Perilous Gestation of Swans 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

When Gosling awoke, something was amiss. Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was bathed in the faint light of the projector, which was still on. Luna was beside him, sleeping, looking rather serene, and without thinking about it, he nuzzled her neck with his muzzle, glad to feel her velvety softness. When he realised that he could get away with it, he kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss on the cheek, nothing more, nothing less. Trust was too valuable a currency, something he stored up, something that he treasured, and he wished to keep his deposit safe. 
 
Celestia was gone. Lifting his head, he looked around, and saw no trace of her in the makeshift theatre, Lady Luna’s luxurious lounge. Blinking a few times, he yawned, doing so with as little volume as possible, and then he rose up on wobbling legs, pulling a blanket up with him. He draped it over his body, covering his naked wings, and then began to pull the remaining blankets over Luna. She liked the cold, and would no doubt kick the blankets off at some point, but he wanted her to be warm and cozy, at least for a time. 
 
It was now time to find out where Celestia had slipped off to. 
 


 
 
The castle was a different place at night, and it was not as lifeless as one might think. Many sections were abandoned, but other sections were abuzz with activity, preparing for the coming day. Gosling had been quite surprised to discover this, but now, after living here for a while, it did not seem so surprising. 
 
Seeing a group of guards, he approached them, the corner of the blanket draped over his back trailing on the floor behind him. The guards were statues, because of course they were, and remained silent during his approach. When he drew near, they snapped to attention, and there was a muffled clank. 
 
“Have you seen my wife?” Gosling asked. 
 
No answer.
 
“Big, tall pony, she’s a very pale shade of pink, horn, wings, and can belch the entire dragon alphabet.” 
 
Nothing, not even a snicker. 
 
“Look, the door is right back there, just down the hall, and this is the only way she could have come.” 
 
Peculiar, there was no response. 
 
“Okay, fine.” Gosling drew in a deep breath and then barked out, “Guards, I demand to know where my princess is!” 
 
“Sir, that cannot be answered, Sir.” The guard who spoke had a stony, unreadable face. 
 
“Why not?” Gosling demanded. 
 
Again, he was met with silence. 
 
Realising that Celestia might have given them orders to not reveal her passing, Gosling recalled all he knew of protocol, which was considerable, and then knew what needed to be done. Clearing his throat, he looked the guard who had spoken right in the eye. “What was the last order given to you?” 
 
After waiting for a bit, Gosling realised that there would be no answer, probably because Celestia might have anticipated this and had covered her tracks and had explicitly given orders not to repeat the last orders. If this was true, she was being sneaky, and as old as she was, she could be very sneaky, because it was all part of the game. Sure, she could have just teleported herself to wherever, or winked, or whatever it was that she did when she used magic to travel, but she loved the game.
 
“Tell me, what were the last words spoken to you?” Gosling asked, trying another angle. 
 
“You didn’t see anything,” the guard replied, staring straight ahead while also somehow avoiding Gosling’s gaze. 
 
The great game had rules. 
 
“Okay, you didn’t see anything, but you did hear something. Which direction did you hear this something go?” Gosling, feeling clever, allowed himself to look just a little smug. 
 
“I heard a disturbance heading down the west passage, towards the central kitchens.” The corners of the guard’s mouth kept twitching, turning upwards, and his eyes glittered with repressed glee. “But I did not see it. Very astute, Sir.” 
 
“Thank you.” Gosling bowed his head. “I’ll be going now. You have excellent ears.” 
 
“Why, thank you, Sir.” The guard let out a snort, and then fought to keep from snickering, something his companion failed to do. 
 
“Carry on,” Gosling said as he trotted away, heading west. 
 


 
 
A small herd of terrified ponies stampeded down the hall, but gave him a wide berth. They were messy looking, some were covered in what appeared to be flour, while others were covered in sauces, or whatever goopy thing it was that stuck to their pelts. One mare had the remains of some kind of salad still in her mane. Absolute pandamonium took place as they galloped down the hall, whinnying, wickering, and bellowing. 
 
“Ees horrabool!” one mare cried while she ran past. “She ees like soom ravenoos moonster!” 
 
In the middle of the chaos, Gosling stopped, raised his head, and struck a majestic pose. His prey was nearby, sacking the kitchens, spooking the little ponies that she adored, that she defended, the little ponies she had a solemn duty to preserve. His ears pivoted around, listening to every sound, and in that moment, wrapped in a blanket, standing in his most majestic pose, Gosling looked absolutely nothing at all like a prince. 
 
Even though he didn’t look it, being a prince, he had to protect his little ponies from the ravages of Nightmare Noon. He took off at a calm trot, heading for the kitchens, mindful of the fleeing, spooked little ponies running past, and a part of him wanted to turn around so he could run with them. He denied that part though, resolute, and steeled himself to face the peril that he knew was ahead. 
 


 
 
Just outside of the door, Gosling heard a sound. It was an indescribable sound, a sound that he had no means of comparison. There was sucking, slurping, crunching, munching, whooshing, belching, and mixed in with all of these sounds, there were happy little wickers. Somepony was having a good time. 
 
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside the kitchen to discover his wife with her head stuck inside of a fridge. The other fridges were open, and appeared to have been ransacked by some ravenous horde. Crumbs were strewn along the counters, and various kitchen implements lay where the kitchen staff had dropped them, fleeing the impending disaster. 
 
“Hungry?” 
 
Startled, Celestia let out a spooked whinny while her head jerked up. There was a screech, the sound of rending metal, followed by an electrical crackle. The fridge was lifted from the floor with no real effort on Celestia’s part, and when she turned around, Gosling could see her horn protruding through the back of the fridge. It was terrifying, seeing how at ease she was with lifting a fridge that was impaled upon her horn. 
 
“Baby, you have a fridge stuck on your head.” 
 
“Gosling!” Celestia’s voice had a strange echoing effect inside of the icebox. “Don’t look at me like this!” Somehow, even with a refrigerator hanging from her head, she was still the most majestic, most dignified, most magnificent creature in all of Equestria, and perhaps the world. 
 
“Too late.” Gosling began to laugh, and he did so knowing full well that Celestia could hear him. From inside the fridge, he heard the sound of gobbling, he knew that she had resumed eating, and with gusto. “Feeling cold?” 
 
“No,” was Celestia’s echoed response from within her makeshift feedbag. While other ponies used a sack hung from the ears, she used a whole fridge hung from her horn. “No, I’m having hot flashes… I can’t get cooled off, I’m sweating while I’m eating, and I can’t stop being hungry.” 
 
“Sounds rough—” 
 
“Don’t patronise me! This is all your fault!” 
 
Ears pinning back, Gosling responded, “So it is. But as I recall, you were quite willing.” 
 
The white alicorn stomped her hoof, which made everything in the kitchen rattle, and the fridge swung from side to side when she shook her head. “Don’t get cocky with me, cockerel!” A loud slurping followed, and then there was a reverberating, echoing belch that had to be deafening within the confines of the refrigerator in which Celestia’s head was stuck. “Mmm, spinach and chestnut dip… that was good.” 
 
“I don’t know if the harvest gold colour of your new crown matches with the rest of you,” Gosling remarked. 
 
“Shut up, Gosling.” 
 
“That avocado trim on the fridge definitely doesn’t match—” 
 
“That’s it, I’m telling your mother!” Her voice had a strange magnification from inside the icebox, which was indeed, harvest gold with avocado trim. The kitchens had not been remodeled or refurbished in quite some time. 
 
“It’s nice that we can have these open exchanges between us, that we’re comfortable enough with each other to see each other during these moments of—” 
 
“Don’t look at me! I don’t feel pretty right now!” There was a gulp from the inside of the fridge. “I’m hot, I’m sweaty, my pelt is matted, and I have a terrible case of swamp ass.” 
 
Gosling facehoofed, because, really, what else could one do when one’s princess said that she was suffering from swamp ass? The kitchen was filled with the sound of his laughter and the ravenous consumption of the alicorn who had her head trapped inside of the fridge. A dreadful noise emerged, like a pony stomping in the mud, and Gosling’s lip curled back in disgust even as he kept laughing. 
 
“Mmm, custard!” After much slurping, she half-said, half-belched the words, “I’m running out of food in here.” 
 
“Well, you’ll have to pull your head out of that—” 
 
“NO!” Celestia’s voice thundered from inside of the metallic confines in which she was trapped. “Ouch.” Now her voice was low, meek, and full of pain. “You can’t see me like this, Gosling. My face must look dreadful. I don’t even want to imagine how awful I must look.” 
 
“Sunshine, I’m not interested in your face,” Gosling said, being smooth. “I’m more interested in that hot, wet, sweaty backside of yours.” 
 
“You know, I’m tempted to believe you, but screwing in the kitchen with a refrigerator on my head is an absurdity that I just cannot bear to partake in.” 
 
“But this is okay? Just talking?” 
 
“Yes, Gosling, somehow, this is okay. After about four or five hundred years or so, this memory will fade, and I won’t feel like dying from embarrassment, should I think about it.” She belched, a thunderous, reverberating sound that made the metal around her head creak, and then she added, “I can be a patient mare, if I need to be. Now go away, so I can ransack another fridge.” 
 
“Nope.” 
 
“What do you mean, nope?” Now, she sounded quite annoyed. “I need some privacy, Gosling, and I need it now.” From inside the icebox, there was a snort. 
 
“You mean that you need more privacy than a fridge stuck on your head offers?” 
 
“Yes!” Then, after a second, “No!” There was a longer pause… “I’m quite confused right now. I’m hot, sweaty, thirsty, hungry, and now, worst of all, I’m horny as all get out. Drats!” 
 
“You know, Celestia—” 
 
“I can hear the trouble in your voice, Gosling! What are you doing?” 
 
“—I think you need to—”  
 
“You fool, don't do it!” 
 
“—chill out.” 
 
“You lecherous little scamp! How could you? I’m trapped in a fridge! Have you no mercy?” 
 
“Just saying—” 
 
“Here we go again!” 
 
“—I think you need to—” 
 
“No, you fiend!” 
 
“—cool off.” 
 
“You are such an asshole.” 
 
Chuckling, Gosling stared at Celestia and the icebox, and could hear no sound of anything being eaten. He had her, the fridge was empty, and she had no options left. That fridge was coming off, which was sure to be interesting. Her wings fluttered against her sides, and the parts that were visible were covered in bits and morsels of food. Just as he was about to say something, the room went dark. Utterly and completely dark. 
 
“No matter which game I play, I always win, Gosling. Sorry, it just has to be this way.” 
 
In the darkness, there was a screech of metal, a scraping sound, and then a thud. Somehow, Celestia was doing magic without generating light, an impressive feat indeed. It was dreadful, now, he would never know. He would never see the resplendent majesty of his wife in her current position. Something moved in the dark, there was more screeching of metal, and then, Gosling heard something peculiar. 
 
He heard hooves, a panic inducing sound if ever there was one, and it made him shiver. 
 
A baritone voice said, “What foul darkness is this?” 
 
There was a wheezing gasp from Celestia, and then the lights turned on. Gosling was shoved aside as another pony pushed into the room, no doubt to investigate what was going on. Gosling, his eyes dazzled by the sudden light, couldn’t see what was going on, but there was a prolonged wheezing gasp from Celestia, and then he heard her say:
 
“Shining Armor!” 
 
“What did I just walk in on?” Shining Armor asked. “There was a lot of screaming. There was a ruckus. What’s going on?” 
 
“Just a minute ago, she had a fridge stuck on her—” 
 
“Gosling!” 
 
“Really?” The excitement in Shining Armor’s voice was impossible not to notice. “You startled her while she was grazing in the fridge, didn’t you?” The white stallion began to laugh, and he gave Gosling a good natured slug. “Have I got a story to tell you about Cadance!”