//------------------------------// // 15 - Strong Enough to Bear This // Story: Sun and Hearth // by bookplayer //------------------------------// Celestia wasn’t sure how she got from Everfree to Canterlot. She had dismissed her charioteers before the confrontation, sensing that something wasn’t right. Perhaps they returned for her. Maybe she teleported, or flew the whole way. She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. She paced in her chambers in Canterlot, her shoulders held stiff and squared, her jaw clenched as she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. Outside, the streets filled with ponies. There were whispers around the kingdom already, and those who’d heard them watched her balcony, waiting to see if she would raise the moon tonight. She would raise the moon tonight. Until that time, she couldn’t allow them to be concerned for her strength. She paused before her balcony; every muscle, every breath, every thought was full of nothing but pain, but any pony looking to her would see her on her hooves, head held high. Tears came to her eyes and she twisted her face in the effort to fight them back. Not yet. Soon, she hoped. She begged the stars to let him get there soon. Her breath caught in a sob, but she swallowed it. There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she said clearly, reminding herself to draw and release each breath. The door opened and a guard stood before her. “Your Majesty, the chariot you sent has returned.” She nodded. “Please bring Chocolate Chip to my chambers, immediately.” The guard shifted uncomfortably. “Your Majesty… he refused your request to come.” “No,” Celestia said firmly, staring at him. Her heart sped in her chest, and she felt all of the pain and tears building inside of her with a burning pressure. The guard swallowed, trying to shrink back without moving. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have orders for what to do. We could force him—” “No, he didn’t refuse,” she snapped. “He wouldn’t have. Did you tell him it was urgent? I need him?” “Y-yes, Your Majesty.” The guard was cowering by now, but Celestia hardly noticed. She swept away from him, pacing aimlessly around the room. “He wouldn’t— Cookie would never—” She couldn’t finish a thought as half a dozen kinds of heartbreak ripped at her mind. She looked frantically around the room for some kind of focus; her eyes landed on the balcony and she squared her shoulders. “I shall go myself!” A few brisk steps took her out onto the balcony. The guard called to her, but she paid him no mind. She didn’t bother with a glance at the ponies below as she took off into the open sky. She hardly noticed the time pass when she saw Rainbow Falls below her, and Cookie’s cottage came into view. Something seemed strange about it, some detail she couldn’t put her hoof on, but she was in no state to explore it right now. Landing heavily on the path in front of Cookie’s front gate, she blinked. The gardens were empty and barren, not even a weed growing in the patches. Her fur stood on end; something was very wrong. Shaking her head, she threw open the gate and hurried through the yard. She opened the door and looked around in confusion. The large front room was totally empty, stripped of all possessions and furniture. Her hoofsteps echoed as she cautiously stepped inside and called, “Cookie?” Her voice rang hollow from the bare walls and high ceiling, and she ruffled her wings. Some dull pain remained from the morning, but it felt distant here in the face of mounting dread at Cookie’s absence. “Cookie!” she shouted, but there was no response. Her heart started to pound in her chest. She’d lost her parents, and Star Swirl, and Luna… she couldn’t have lost Cookie as well. She hurried to the kitchen, bursting through the door frantically. “Cookie, where are you?” There was nothing there either, no dishes, no food, not a sign it had ever been used by a pony. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she didn’t bother to fight them as she turned and crossed the front room to look in the bedroom. “I need you! I—” She found the bedroom as empty as the rest, without even a bed, and sobs began to choke out her words. “I— Cookie, please…” She turned back to the front room, looking helplessly at the empty space before collapsing in front of the cold, clean fireplace and burying her head in her forelegs to soak up her tears. They seemed like they might never stop, and through them, between heaving breaths, she whimpered her thoughts as they came, “Please come back. Please. I need you. I can’t raise the moon alone. I can’t bear this crown alone. I can’t face eternity…” “Sister…” a gentle voice spoke behind her. Celestia turned and saw her there, the pony who had tried to destroy her and her country, and who had ripped her heart in half. “You!” She rose to her hooves with a fresh strength. Her horn glowed with the power of her pain and fury. “What are you doing here? What have you done with him?” “Tia, this is a dream.” She stepped forward cautiously. “It is I, Luna, not Nightmare Moon.” “Luna?” Celestia whispered as she took in her sister’s words. The glow of her horn dimmed and she shook her head free of those shadows. The cottage in Rainbow Falls faded—Celestia realized Rainbow Falls hadn’t even existed that day—and in its place she found herself and Luna in the endless field of stars that marked the line between thoughts and places. Celestia found she was shaking and took a deep breath to steady herself. She looked to her sister. “Oh dear, Luna, I’m so sorry. I thought—” “I know,” Luna said, frowning thoughtfully at her. With a sigh, Celestia got her bearings, wresting her body and mind from the icy grip of pain and fear with the discipline she had built over thousands of years. She swallowed, and said with a shake of her head, “It’s… it’s nothing. I suppose it’s obvious why I’m dreaming about this.” Luna nodded with the same thoughtful frown. “Yes.” “And I suppose it would have to affect me.” Celestia squared her shoulders and offered Luna a wan smile. “Better here than in the waking world.” Luna’s frown deepened and she arched an eyebrow. “Is it?” “Of course.” Celestia’s smile grew strong and warm. “I’d hate to disturb other ponies with my carrying on. They depend on me.” “Tia…” Luna sighed and shook her head. “I’ve avoided interfering these past weeks because of my involvement, but I can no longer watch as you torture yourself with this night after night.” Her face softened with sympathy as she took a step towards her sister. “I care for you; you do not face this alone.” Celestia frowned. She had hoped that Luna hadn’t noticed, but after three weeks she had to admit that was unreasonably optimistic. She composed her face with a shrug. “What is there to face? I lost a love.” “There is pain in lost love, yet you’ve spoken to nopony of it. I don’t believe you’ve even shed a tear.” Luna frowned and added, “Not in the waking world, at least.” Celestia tilted her head with a smile of gentle reproach. “I’m not a school filly; I think I can overcome a broken heart without hysterics.” Luna offered a dry, dubious look that clearly remembered the dream she had witnessed. Celestia went on quickly, “And besides, you never liked Cookie. You of all ponies should know I’ll be just as well off without him.” “My opinion of Smart Cookie has nothing to do with this,” Luna said with a tilt of her head. “Nor does what is best for your life, whether you have one lover or one hundred or none at all. My only concern now is that my sister is in pain, and she hides it from those who might help.” “There is pain, but it’s healthy. Cookie’s betrayal woke me from a long and pleasant dream.” Celestia pursed her lips as she felt a few painful heartbeats for her lost home. She pulled herself back to the present with a small shrug. “So I’ll resign my tears to dreams as well, and I promise you when I wake they’ll be forgotten and I will be all the stronger for it.” “That isn’t the way of dreams.” Luna looked at her pointedly and gestured to the starscape around them. “They merely reflect the path you choose. If you refuse to change paths in the waking world, you will not avoid your torment, you will merely experience it twofold.” Celestia rolled her eyes. “I’m not tormented, Luna. I’m disappointed. There’s no reason to concern ponies over that.” “Your mind is not at peace, and your dreams warn that this hurts you more than you show any pony, even me… perhaps even yourself.” Luna’s expression remained firm and fixed on Celestia. “This concerns me.” “Speaking of your involvement in this matter,” Celestia said sharply, with a glare at Luna, “have you considered by now that perhaps ponies secret hopes and fears are their own, and none of your concern?” Luna’s face barely moved except for the slightest narrowing of her eyes. “I am princess here, Celestia, and it is my duty to protect my ponies. Even you.” Celestia’s glare melted to a frown. Luna was right; only she had the power to rule here, and she ruled even Celestia. Setting on a different course, Celestia took a deep breath and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry you have to witness my dramatics here, even moreso because I’m sure the subject matter is uncomfortable for you.” She allowed a slightly pleading cast to her eyes. “Of course, I don’t have the magic to make it more suitable, you were always more talented than me. Perhaps you could fix this, as a favor to me?” “If I felt your dream needed adjustment, I would come to your aid.” Luna frowned at her. “Your dream is full of wisdom.” Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” Luna sighed. “You are strong enough to bear this, sister. But you are not strong enough to bear it alone.” Shaking her head, Celestia drew a sad smile to her face. “Luna, would it make you feel better if I woke and asked you to my chambers for a chat?” “Perhaps,” Luna said, eyeing Celestia with suspicion. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Celestia’s smile grew more confident, and she walked over to Luna, draping a wing over her back. “I’ll have the kitchen send up some tea and treats, and l’m sure that we can calm your fears.” *** Winter had just been settled in, but the kitchen at Sweet Apple Acres was cozy against the cold, both outside and in Cookie’s own mind. It was late at night, and the ponies who lived here had gone to bed long ago. Cookie should have as well; even his small contribution to the farm work was several times what he was used to in his own garden, and a cloud of exhaustion hung over him that made it difficult to focus on anything in particular. So he’d decided to bake something, and now he waited with his thoughts for the muffins in the oven. He set about cleaning the wooden countertop, tapping into the echoes that seemed to press him here. He’d expected it of the forest, with its ghosts and ruins and the familiar magic of the cave, but when Twilight had arranged for him to stay on her friend’s farm he hadn’t expected an entirely different sense of déjà vu and the not entirely pleasant mix of emotions that came with it. From time to time over the centuries he’d found places like this, where the smells of baking, wood, earth, sweat, and smoke from the oven, and a bone-deep feeling of earth pony magic about the place transported him to Girthshire and his long ago youth. This time was particularly poignant, with the feelings of failure and melancholy and a tired acceptance draped around him like the tattered rags of those days. In the wee hours of the morning, with the smell of muffins in the oven and the meditative work of cleaning up before him, those feelings drifted in and out of his mind along with thoughts of the warm springtime dream of Equestria that came after that dark winter, and more realistic ideas about places he might go and work he might do. And in the empty spaces between, visions of Celestia tempted him with love and taunted him with loneliness. Deep in those thoughts, lost in his head, he was surprised by the sound of a voice in the room with him. “Chip?” Looking up quickly, he saw Twilight’s friend Applejack standing in the doorway, without her hat for once and rubbing sleep from her eyes. He’d understood who she was from the moment Twilight had introduced them; she was the sturdy, down-to-earth, hard-working mare that earth pony mothers had been telling their sons they ought to settle down with since before his mother had tried to tell him—with no success in his case, as he’d never loved a mare who didn’t have a horn. But while some of Twilight’s other friends represented more unique or modern sensibilities, Applejack and her family might have lived on the outskirts of Girthshire or Everfree or any number of other places and times and not have been noticeably changed by the experience. Cookie offered her an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” “I smelled the bakin’. ‘Round here that’s a sure sign somepony couldn’t sleep.” She stepped in and glanced at the oven, then leaned against the counter. “So what’s on your mind?” “Far too much.” He sighed. “The past, the future.” She offered a sympathetic tilt of her head. “Wanna lay it on me?” Cookie considered that, weighing the balance of his privacy, his desire for counsel, and the fact that it was somewhere around 3 o’clock in the blessed morning. “I would, but I’m not sure how much to explain.” “Well, let’s start at the start. You’re from Rainbow Falls?” Applejack asked as she crossed the room and poured herself a glass of milk. “That’s not the start, but it will do well enough.” Cookie nodded, and as Applejack took her milk to the table he collected his cup of lukewarm tea and moved to join her. “I had a cottage in the countryside near there. I suppose I still do, but I’d rather not return.” Applejack nodded. “Why’d ya’ leave?” Cookie took a deep breath, considering the branches the conversation might take and the uselessness of this conversation if he couldn’t tell Applejack the truth of the problems. Finally he settled on the important aspect of the truth for their purposes. He swallowed and looked down at his cup. “It isn’t home anymore.” “Ya’ mean, somepony who was home wasn’t there anymore,” she said softly. “Precisely.” He nodded. “I been there.” She took a drink of her milk and studied him. “Who was it?” “A mare. She broke my trust, and I realized things about myself, and about her, and… now I’m here.” He looked up with a shrug. Applejack frowned in consideration. “I guess I don’t know much about love stuff. Maybe you oughta talk to Rarity.” “I’ll consider it,” Cookie said, relieved to avoid retreading painful ground, but no closer to a decision or sleep. “I feel as though I just need time to think right now. I apologize for doing it at this stars-forsaken hour in your kitchen.” “We’ll both be sorry enough ‘bout that in the mornin’,” Applejack said with a smirk. Cookie smiled. “I’m sorry for that as well. But I do promise I’ll still be as much help as usual, for as little as that’s worth.” Her smile softened. “You’re no farm pony, that’s for sure. But you try, and you know we’d let you stay even if you didn’t, on account of bein’ a friend of Twi’s.” “I’m sure, but I’d never take advantage of that.” He frowned at the thought of being here and utterly useless, with its echoes of the past. “Besides… I need it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Well, when farm work’s what ya’ need, we got just the thing.” Cookie bit his lip and looked around the kitchen. “I need some kind of work, at least. I— I always thought… that mare was my purpose. I thought that together we nurtured a dream, and that she needed me so that she could see it realized. I used to bake for her, to comfort her; she liked sweet, hearty recipes… traditional ones meant to fill a pony and warm them on cold nights around a hearth.” He sighed and added, “But I realized that I no longer recognized her dream, and that the love and comfort I offered could no longer truly touch her heart.” Applejack was quiet for a moment, then she nodded. “Yup. You oughta be talkin’ to Rarity.” “I’m sorry,” Cookie said, shaking his head at himself. “I meant to say that I feel useless now, and I hate feeling useless. It reminds me of a bad time in my life. So I appreciate having ponies who can give me useful work to do until I figure out what work I should put myself to.” She glanced at the oven. “You’re a darn good baker.” Cookie nodded. “I’m a fine baker, but I’m hopeless at running a business.” “Maybe Twi could help ya’ get a job at the palace in Canterlot,” Applejack suggested. “No,” Cookie said firmly with a frown. Applejack gave him a confused look. “Okay then.” She took a drink of her milk, thinking for a moment. “What’s your cutie mark for?” Cookie relaxed, leaning back in his chair. “Spreading ideas. I like new ideas, and I like talking to ponies about them.” She shrugged. “Well I reckon there’s plenty of ponies out there with ideas they want spread.” “Any with ideas worth spreading, though?” Cookie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe one or two.” She grinned at him. “If ya’ wanted to talk to ponies ‘bout the benefits of eatin’ a lot of apples…” Cookie regarded her with a smirk. Applejack chuckled. “I’m kiddin’. You don’t have ideas you wanna spread?” “I always have ideas. A few I think may be very important.” He frowned. “But… who am I to decide that?” “The pony with the cutie mark for talkin’ ‘bout them?” she said with a pointed tilt of her head. “Who do ya’ think oughta decide it for ya’?” Cookie took a sip of his tea and his frown deepened. “I’m afraid I’ve had quite a few foolish ideas in my life.” “I reckon I can’t think of pony who hasn’t,” she said with a shrug. She paused as she studied his face for a moment, then added gently, “Maybe you oughta talk to Twi. She’s the smartest pony I know, I bet she can tell ya’ what’s worth spreadin’.” “Perhaps.” Cookie nodded. “And you’d be welcome as well, if you’re willing. I’ve always found the best ideas come from the minds of several ponies who might challenge their weaknesses and add to their strengths.” “That’s a good way of thinkin’.” She nodded. Then she tilted her head, looking into the distance. “Of course, it’s got its downsides too.” “Does it?” Cookie asked, confused by the prospect. “Yup.” She rose to her hooves and walked over to the oven, opening the door and glancing over her shoulder at him with a smile. “You been so busy jawin’ with me that you darn near burned these muffins.” He chuckled. “To the contrary. I feel that’s an excellent argument for the importance of listening to the counsel of friends, so long as they have the wisdom to see your faults. And that’s certainly a well caught display of one of mine.” Applejack pulled the muffins from the oven and set them on the counter. Then she turned back to him with a smile. “Well, how’s this for some counsel? Get some sleep, and in the mornin’ you’ll have some fresh muffins, plenty‘a time to think, and ponies’ll be awake to run your ideas by.” Cookie offered her a warm smile as he got to his hooves. “Wise, and I’ll try to take it to heart. Thank you, Applejack.” “No problem, Chip. We’ll get this all worked out for ya’.” She gave his shoulder a friendly bump as he left the room, then they parted ways. She went upstairs towards the bedrooms, and he made his way to the barn, where a surprisingly comfortable cot had been set up in a corner. Barrels of apples stored for winter were stacked as makeshift walls that provided sufficient privacy, and while it was chilly and likely to get colder, several heavy hoof-made quilts had been provided that made what little sleep he got comfortable. But as he sat down on the bed and tucked in for what was left of the night, it wasn’t the quilts that kept the chill away. It was the simple feeling that he wasn’t alone in the world, no matter the weather. Tears came to Celestia’s eyes as she paced her unfamiliar chambers in Canterlot. She twisted her face in the effort to fight them back. Not yet. Soon, she hoped. She begged the stars to let him get there soon. At the very least he had to get there before moonrise. She couldn’t do that alone. At the moment she couldn’t imagine how she might do it at all. It would become real then, and she was the pony tasked with making it real. How could her subjects ask such a thing of her? She had already sacrificed her only family; how could they give her just a half of a day to grieve before facing the truth of it? The answer was in her bearing as she looked across the balcony at the throngs of ponies below, and the soft steady sound of her breath and the tears that couldn’t fall. Her subjects neither knew nor cared for the loss of her sister; they cared that she had defeated a usurper, a threat to Equestria and their way of life. For that victory to have meaning, the moon must rise tonight, and Princess Celestia must have the strength to raise it. She knew she had that strength. Just barely. But if that very strength wasn’t to break her, she needed to cry first. The more Celestia paced, the more the room felt like a cage; the open balcony with the beautiful view was nothing but an opening in the bars for ponies to gawk at her, and on the other side of the ornate doors to her palace stood guards who might just as easily be keeping her inside as keeping trouble out. This was not her home. The Castle of the Two Sisters was her home, as it had been since she was crowned. Some part of her longed to return, to find it strong and secure, Everfree bright and vibrant, and Luna… Her breath caught in a sob, but she swallowed it. There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she said clearly, reminding herself to draw and release each breath. The door opened and a guard stood before her for only a moment before Cookie tried to shove past him. The guard struggled to hold Cookie back. “Hey, you—” “Leave him be,” Celestia said quickly, her magic drawing a curtain over the balcony. She took a breath and nodded to the guard as Cookie stepped past, into the room. “Thank you, you’re dismissed. Please make it known that I wish no interruptions until dawn tomorrow.” “Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard bowed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Celestia, the rumors—” Cookie started, but he got no further before her mask crumbled and her face twisted in an anguished sob. He went on in a whisper, hurrying to her side, “It’s true. Oh, my dear… I’m so sorry.” Celestia gave herself over to the pain, gasping for breath as she sobbed, letting tears flow so that the salt burned her cheeks. She would have fallen to her knees right there, but she felt Cookie’s strong body against her, leading her to a cushion. There she crumpled into a heap, covering her face with her hooves. Her crown and necklace and hoofplates bound and pricked at her, and she tore them off one by one and threw them against a wall with an angry grunt. Cookie lay down next to her, his foreleg over her shoulder, his head resting against her mane. He said nothing for hours as her body wracked with heaving breaths and the only sounds she could make were low moans and high pitched whimpers. There was nothing to be said anyway; no words would express her pain and no words would bring her comfort. All of the comfort she needed was in her tears and his strength as he allowed her the indulgence. Eventually, she could cry no more. The tears and snot dried on her face and matted the fur, and each empty sob drew fresh pain into her lungs. With a soft rub on her shoulder, but without a word, Cookie stood and left, returning a short time later with a cool, wet cloth and tea tray that he set down next to her. As Celestia wiped her face clean, Cookie poured her tea for her in gentle, solemn silence, and in that moment she was sure that no hero of Equestria had ever done a greater deed in her name. When the tea had soothed her parched throat, she finally did her best to relate the events of that morning. It was the first time she’d spoken of it to anypony and each phrase stabbed her heart. She stopped more than once to cringe in pain or cry tears from some mysterious reserve. But Cookie rested a hoof on her foreleg, and she managed to finish the tale of Nightmare Moon’s banishment. He was silent for a few minutes before he spoke in a soft, awed voice, “You are truly the most noble pony I have ever met. If any deserves the title of Princess—” “No.” She shook her head sharply and wiped her eyes once more. “Please. If I deserved this title, I wouldn’t cry now. I would celebrate the defeat of a tyrant usurper.” “You are both, my love,” Cookie said, moving closer to her and nuzzling the side of her face. “You are Princess, so you give all that you are, and you are Celestia, so you cry. And you will always be Celestia to me, so cry all the tears that you have.” She nestled close to his body, trying a few steady breaths and finding they came easier in that position. “I have to raise the moon tonight, Cookie. I— I fear it will break me. You’ll stay by my side, won’t you?” “I’ll stay by your side as long as you like,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. “And if you break, I’ll put you back together so nopony will ever see the cracks.” “They mustn’t.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried fill her body with the strength she would need. It felt too fragile, too tenuous even now. “It would do them good.” He gave a gentle frown at the curtains that covered the balcony. “Too many ponies see you as a statue, not knowing that you even have a heart, let alone that you would cut it out of your chest for their benefit.” “I wish I was a statue,” Celestia whispered. “One that might move the heavens and defend Equestria and never have to feel this pain.” Cookie’s hoof stroked her neck and shoulder. “You wish that now, but you won’t forever. You’re in pain because you loved, and that will always risk pain.” “My love for my sister very nearly risked Equestria’s downfall.” She frowned and looked around for her crown, the expression growing darker as she saw it on the floor in the heap of her regalia. She drew it to her with her magic and examined it for damage. Finding none, she held it before her and seemed to speak to it, “I should have banished her to Tartarus before it came to this.” Cookie got to his hooves and took the crown from her magic, examining it himself for a moment with a wary eye. Then he looked in her eyes and placed the crown on her head so gently she could hardly tell it was there. “If you had, you would not be Celestia,” Cookie said in an even voice. He leaned in and kissed her lips, then added as they parted, “And to have a statue for our princess, rather than Celestia, would bring Equestria’s downfall far more surely than any foe we might face.” Celestia nodded, trying to take strength and pride from his words. But every moment sundown drew closer, bringing the judgement of her ponies and the cold glare of the moon. Today she felt as though no comfort could fight through the pain of her failures.