The sound of something expensive hitting the floor – probably, Celestia guessed from the distinctive hollow whine that rung out, though she dearly hoped not, one of the few early Caballus-era pieces that had managed to survive the war intact – forced the princess' eyes open. The noise seemed to echo throughout the entire palace, but Celestia was quite well aware of the fact that it was merely her semi-somnambulant state playing tricks on her perceptions. For a moment, she flirts with an idea; she allows it a few brief seconds of life, giving it free reign to tease her playfully, though it quickly turns mocking.
Ignoring it was never going to an option, was it?
Princess Celestia was cursed; she was one of those ponies that you'd often heard about, but couldn't believe actually existed: one who, when roused, actually got up out of bed and went about their day. The promise of a long life had not dulled her desire to seize every hour of every day, and lately, there had been more reason than normal to get an early start.
A reason, she thought ruefully, not unconnected with the priceless object that had just been destroyed.
Her commitment to this noble ideal takes a bit of a battering when the cold air assaults her body; goosebumps rose across her flesh in response to her telekinetically hurling her covers across the room, and she briefly wondered what the point of all that cream-coloured hair adorning her was. Hesitating for only a second longer, she finally dragged her large, elegant form off of the bed and stood in front of the gilt-edged golden mirror that dominated the marble wall.
Yes, the décor was a bit ostentatious and not really her thing, but you try telling a royal architect that you wanted something simple and unshowy.
Celestia's bed could easily hold two or three alicorn-sized ponies, and as she quickly went about her ablutions in the en-suite, she entertained herself by imagining the scandalous headlines that would no doubt be printed should the press ever get wind of something of that nature ever happening. Though she was more than a thousand-years-old – probably much more, but she'd long since given up counting and the date of her birthday celebration no longer bore any relation to her actual date of birth – she had the body of a pony in their physical prime, and even without the added draw that came with being royalty, there were doubtless many in Equestria who would happily court her.
If nothing else, it would liven up an otherwise dull period for the news.
Shaking her head to free herself from these distracting thoughts was difficult, and all she really succeeded in doing was soaking the carpet as her flowing mane sought to dispense with all the water she had been using to try and straighten it out.
What she'd really been trying to do was ignore the fact that, ever since she'd woken up, further noises had been tumbling out of the suite a few doors down.
A suite that, until very recently – since yesterday, in point of fact – had gone unoccupied for more than a thousand years.
This was inevitable, I suppose, but had I really expected it to be this bad? Did I have any expectations at all?
To say the least, her first day back had been … trying. Information and sensory overload did not a happy pony make, and there had been so many unfamiliar things for her to try and make sense of far too quickly. Tartarus, even the castle itself was new to her. We'd still been in the old place in the Everfree when … well, just when. Celestia wanted to give her space and time to adjust, but she didn't know when – or even if – she should try and talk to her. She'd been locked in her room, apparently alone, for almost thirty-two hours now.
Celestia let loose a sigh; a sigh that, should anypony have been around to hear it, would have sank their spirits far more deeply than anything else imaginable. She knew that her little ponies looked to her to have all of the answers, no matter how bleak things might've looked, but now she was torn. When it came to Equestria and her subjects, she was a stoic leader; when it came to her family, and matters of her own heart, she was as fragile and as vulnerable as anypony else. She secretly resented this weakness, but she also knew that it was important.
It helped to keep her grounded.
How do I bridge this gap between us, sister? I've waited patiently for a millennium to have you back, and I will not let you go again, but … how do I do that? How do I keep you this time?
The half-smile that Celestia had allowed herself in the moment of relative calm soon withered as yet another object collided with the wall. Had Twilight Sparkle been here, she probably would have started reciting verbatim her psychology textbooks and what they said about sibling interaction, particularly after a long period of separation or … after a fight. Even now, the thought briefly crossed her mind of summoning Twilight for assistance, but it wouldn't be fair to drag her from her new friends and her new life in Ponyville to listen to a domestic dispute.
Mind you, it was a domestic dispute with a thousand years of pain behind it. In the end, Celestia decided against it; she was undeniably brilliant, Twilight, but she was also inexperienced and nervy, and a cool head was required for this particular situation.
Still, she was the closest thing I had to an equal for so long. And one day, Goddess-willing, she will surpass me.
Upon exiting her room – after one last quick check to make sure she radiated that bizarre mixture of approachability and detachment that she aimed for each day, wanting her subjects to find her open but not so much that they came to her with every little problem they could easily deal with on their own – Celestia found two guards on either side of the doorway and she bid them a strained good morning. It was clear from the tightness in their faces that they had also borne aural witness to the uproar from a few doors down, and were equally unsure as to what, if anything, they were supposed to do about it, but still they responded with calm salutes.
Undoubtedly, they had been waiting for Celestia to come and sort it out herself. Already, in fact, they seemed to be lightening up a bit, sure that the princess could deal with anything. Even her own unruly sister.
“When one of the palace staff went to check on her earlier, she said she wanted to be left alone,” one of the guards said. “We don't know whether, er, you were included in that restriction or not.”