//------------------------------// // Fantasia Suite For Ensemble, "Carnival of the Animals" // Story: Celestia XVII // by brokenimage321 //------------------------------// “Ah, Ambassador Ivy,” I said warmly, “It’s so good to see you! How are you?" Agony. “Oh, that’s too bad, really. Did you have a good trip, at least?” I’d been in this line for two hours. My hooves felt like they were going to fall off. “And how are your children? The littlest one should be about ready to start school, right?” Luna had the right idea. She wasn’t standing in line, she was holding court. She had a couch and everything. And Blueblood had swanned right off with the first pretty, unattached mare he saw. “Oh, he got his cutie mark? You must be so proud!” This was all Luna’s fault. If it wasn’t for her, I’d be walking around, mingling, like I usually did. But she’d insisted that I man the reception line. Like a real Princess. “And how’s your wife? Oh, you’re expecting again? Congratulations!” I needed to sit. I needed water. I needed out. “You know me, Ambassador—tonight is for pleasure, not business. But, if you send a letter to the Palace, attention Celestia, I’ll take care of it as soon as I can.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Twilight walking towards me with a glass of water. It took everything I had not to shove the Ambassador out of the way and sprint towards her. “Always a pleasure. Enjoy the Gala, Ambassador.” I smiled, then turned to the next pony in line. “Ah, Lord Winesap. Would you excuse me for a moment? I’m just going to take a little refreshment. Her Highness would be more than happy to see you in the meantime, of course,” I said, as I steered him towards Luna’s couch. As soon as he stepped away, I turned to Twilight and took the glass. “Get me out of here,” I whispered, then took a long drink. Twilight looked over my shoulder. “There’s only twenty or thirty more…” I lowered the glass and gasped for breath. “I don’t know that I can take it. I need a minute…” I eyed my glass, already about half empty. I briefly considered dumping the rest over my head and neck to cool off, but decided against it. “Can you run interference for me?” I asked Twilight. “Just for a minute?” Twilight’s eyes widened. “S-sure,” she said. “J-just for a minute…” I staggered to a chair at a nearby, empty table, and flopped into it. I slipped my throbbing back hooves out of my horseshoes, then took off my crown and dropped it on the table. I wanted to take my Peytral off, too, but I’d have to find a way to get it out from under my dress without messing up my top, and my neck wasn’t that sore yet. I took another long drink, then laid my chin on my arms and whimpered to myself. I stayed that way for a few moments, then took another sip of water. As I set the glass down, I heard a small, frightened squeak to my right. Slowly, I turned to stare. Two chairs over—so small I could barely see her over the table—sat a little filly, wearing a yellow dress and dumbstruck expression. Couldn’t have been older than twelve, at the absolute most. She closed her mouth, then swallowed. “Y-y-you’re—” she swallowed, then tried again. “You’re P-Princess Celestia! A-and you—!” Inwardly, I groaned. I knew her type: the starstruck little filly. She was in the presence of the one pony that made all of existence function, and she wouldn’t be able to let go of that fact. She was exactly the sort to treat me like a china doll: special, fragile, with cotton insides. I wasn’t a real pony. I was an object to be admired. She was exactly the kind of pony I hated. And yet… she reminded me of... I smiled a little. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I am. Call me Cece.” Somehow, her eyes grew even bigger. “See-see,” she repeated, awed. “Yep,” I said. “What’s a young lady like you doing here at the Gala, anyways?” I asked. She deflated a little. “Mama and Daddy brought me,” she said, quietly. I nodded. “Are you having fun?” She closed her mouth and looked away—and, in the glint of the lamplight, I saw a shining trail of tears running the way down to her chin. “Ah,” I said quietly. I hesitated, then: “What’s your name?” I asked. “Dew Drop,” she sniffled. “Well, Dewey,” I began—then I leaned closer. “Wanna hear a secret?” She looked up at me, sniffled, then nodded. “I know exactly what you’re feeling,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. She looked up at me, mystified. “Your Mom and Dad probably brought you along because they wanted to show you off, right?” She sniffled, then nodded again. “And you’re upset because they want you on your best behavior—which means you can’t run around and have fun, right? And you only got one dessert, too?” She looked up at me like I had two heads. I grinned wider. “My mom did the same thing, if you can believe it,” I said. “I had to come every year, and it was always the same.” Dewey slowly nodded, eyes wide. “First time,” she murmured. “And it’s not what you thought it would be, right?” She shook her head. I leaned closer. “Want some pointers?” I asked. She nodded faintly. “Look around,” I said. “You see all the ponies in the uniforms? With all those ribbons and medals?” She nodded again. “Go around and find the one with the most. Then ask them what the biggest medal on the uniform is for. See if you can get him to tell the story behind it.” I grinned. “That’s what I did when I was your age—and it made the night just whiz by.” She broke into a wide grin. “For reals?” she asked. I nodded. “For reals,” I repeated. “Now, get out there and have some fun.” She let loose an excited little squeal, then hopped down from the chair. “Mom! Dad!” she cried as she scurried off. “Princess Celestia—Cece—she—!” I smiled to myself, then took another sip of water. I watched little Dewey for a moment, chatting excitedly to her parents, both of them trying not to look my way. It had been something so small—just a minute or two—but something about talking to Dewey had really cheered me up. I wasn’t sure exactly what to call it, but, if you twisted my arm, I’d have to say— I frowned a little. I got a sudden prickling on the back of my neck: someone was watching me. I scoffed, then shook my head. This was the Gala. Of course someone was watching me. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling… this wasn’t just a casual observation, someone was actually staring. I glanced around, ready to snap at the creep… ...until I spotted him, that was. About twenty feet away, trying very hard to look like he hadn’t been staring at the back of my head, stood a young pegasus stallion. He wore a sharp-pressed Flight Squad uniform, the silver bars over the chest pocket designating him a low-ranking officer—and yet, on his sleeve, he wore the stripes of a Wonderbolt. And he wasn’t too bad looking, either. As soon as I saw him, he turned away and trotted up the steps towards the open front doors. But he wasn’t getting away that easily. I slipped back into my horseshoes, put on my crown, and stood again—gasping only a little at the fresh spike of pain—then smoothed the front of my dress. I skipped up the steps after him, and found him on the landing, pressed up against a pillar, looking like he’d been caught in the cookie jar. But, before he could speak, I held out my hoof. The young lieutenant hesitated for just a moment, then gingerly took my hoof in his. He leaned down to kiss it. As soon as I saw him pucker up, I scoffed, turned it sideways, and thrust it towards his chest. “Celestia,” I said. “Princess Celestia. And what exactly do you think you’re up to, Mister...” I peered at the nameplate pinned to his uniform. “...Lieutenant Skies?” I corrected myself. He blushed a little, then took my hoof again, shaking it properly this time. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just… well, that was awful nice of you back there,” he said. I shrugged. “She needed some help,” I said, “and I’ve been there. It wasn’t much.” He nodded. “True—but I think most ponies in your position would have simply blown her off.” I opened my mouth, then closed it again. For some reason, it felt like a bad idea to tell him that I almost had. But, wait—why was I suddenly worried about what he thought of me? For moment, neither of us spoke. I almost said something just to fill the space, but nothing came to mind. I chuckled nervously, and he smirked a little. “I hope this isn’t too forward,” he said, “but I have to ask: have you considered joining the Wonderbolts?” I turned to stare, and he looked away. “I-I mean,” he said, “you have a beautiful pair of wings, if you don’t mind me saying… and, I’m sure, with the right training...” I snorted. “That your job, then?” I asked. “You’re the ‘Bolt’s official Wing Inspector?” He shrugged. “I... do do some recruiting from time to time,” he admitted, “but that’s besides the point... I-I’ve just spent enough time in the air to know a quality set of wings…” he swallowed nervously. “...and you’ve got one.” I fluffed my wings self-consciously, then looked down. I felt myself blushing fiercely. Lieutenant Skies was quiet for a moment, then chuckled to himself. I looked up and opened my mouth to say something— —when suddenly, a voice cut through the chatter of the crowd. “Hi, I’m Twili—L-Lady Twilight S-Sparkle. What’s your name…? Y-yes, Grandmother is my Luna—I mean, Luna is my Grandmother. I—oh? Cece, she—I-I mean, P-P-Princess Cece will be back in a minute—oh, g-goodbye, then… Hello, I’m Lady Cece—oh, dammit, I mean—” I turned and stared. From where I stood at the top of the stairs leading down into the Gala, I had the perfect view of everyone in attendance. I could see the Wonderbolts, milling about in their own private VIP section. I could see Luna, still sitting on her couch, surrounded by hoof-kissers and sycophants. And I could see Twilight— I swallowed. Twilight stood in my place at the head of the reception line, still fifteen or  twenty ponies strong. Even from this distance, I could see that her glasses had slipped crookedly down her nose, and her chest was rising and falling in short, rapid flutters. She needed my help—and I had to—! I took a step forward—then I saw the rest of them. I saw Rarity, sitting pathetically all by herself at one of the tables, everyone in ten yards carefully avoiding her gaze. I saw Applejack, hat pulled low over her eyes, standing by the refreshment table—almost everything eaten, except for piles of apple fritters, apple tarts, and apple pies, practically untouched. And I saw, below one of the massive gallery windows on the opposite end of the hall, Rainbow sitting on a bench, face buried in her hooves, and Pinkie Pie at her side, tugging forlornly at her elbow. And suddenly, I knew what I had to do. “I’m the people Princess,” I whispered to myself. Lieutenant Skies cocked his head. “Pardon?” I turned to him and flashed my winningest smile. “It’s been a pleasure, it really has, Lieutenant Skies,” I said, “but you’ll need to excuse me. I’ve just realized I’m needed elsewhere.” “Please,” he said with a little smile. “Call me Soarin’.” “Soarin’,” I repeated. “Old nickname?” “Sort of,” he admitted. I nodded. “Well then, Soarin’,” I said, “you can call me Cece.” He looked faintly surprised. “Good to meet you, Cece,” he said. “And, of course, you’re welcome to dash off anytime you like, but still, I’m curious—what are you suddenly needed for?” “For the one thing I’m good at,” I said. “And that is?” he asked. I grinned wider. “Bullshitting,” I said brightly. And, without another word, I turned and strode down the stairs towards Twilight. People said you couldn’t polish a turd. But I could do it—I did it all the time. I polished turds until they shined. Could practically chrome-plate the suckers. I mean—look at what I’d done with myself, after all. I hit the back of the reception line like a hurricane. As I walked towards the front, I grabbed each pony by a forehoof, shook it warmly, and moved on. And, the entire time, my mouth never stopped moving. “Welcome,” I said, the words flowing like water. “Welcome to the Gala. Princess Celestia. Thank you for coming—it’s a pleasure, really. Try the apple pie, it’s delicious—” I practically shoved Twilight out of the way, and shook the hoof of the B-List celebrity she was currently embarrassing. “I’m so sorry to do this,” I said, “but I need to speak to Lady Twilight in private for just a moment. Please, enjoy the Gala.” And with that, I swept away. Twilight flashed a weak smile at her guest, straightened her glasses, then trotted after me. Loonie was probably glaring daggers at me from her couch, but I didn’t care. This was my party now. With a stream of endless shoulder-pats, hoof-shakes, and Excuse me's, I carved a path through the crowd, like an icebreaker through the Arctic. Twilight trotted along in the wake I left, trying hard to keep up with my stride. We broke into the clearing around Rarity. She looked up at me, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. But, before she could open her mouth, I slid into the seat beside her. “Hi, Rarity,” I said, a little louder than necessary, “How’s your evening been?” I didn’t have to ask: I could read both sorrow and rage on her face. But that wasn’t the point, of course. Rarity heaved a dramatic sigh. “Terrible,” she began. “Prince Bluebl—” “I agree,” I said, a little louder, “It has been too long. We’ll have to catch up next time I see you—next weekend work?” She looked up at me, scandalized, but I winked. “But tell me,” I continued, “How is your sister? We haven’t spoken in ages—she’s still doing well in math?” Suddenly, I stood. “By the way, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned,” I said, “but I adore this dress you made! I mean—” I twirled experimentally, taking the opportunity to scan the crowd. More than a few were watching me. Good. “It’s an absolute dream!” I continued. “I just adore how it swishes!” Twilight was staring at me like I had just taken a bite out of the table, and Rarity’s eyebrows were raised so high they were about to disappear under her tiara. I grinned. Time for the killing blow. “When will I have to put in next year’s order by?” I asked. “And should I just send it to Carousel Boutique in Ponyville, or do you have a PO Box?” Rarity opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I-I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe end of September…?” I scoffed. “Rarity, that simply won’t be enough time!” I cried. “With all your orders, I would hate to get lost in the shuffle. I’ll get it in by June, would that work?” Without waiting for her to reply, I grabbed her hoof. “Now,” I said, “Lady Twilight and I are going to go get some refreshments. Come with us. I hear the apple tarts are divine.” And I swept away. A little overdramatic, perhaps, but I needed to give everyone time to gossip over the rumors I’d just started—rumors about how a certain, little-known seamstress was apparently the Princess’s favorite. I just hoped that she’d have the good sense to follow… I crashed through the waves of high society again, this time heading towards the snack table. I knew exactly where it was—it was where I’d spent most of my time at these Galas until I was at least thirteen, after all—but, even so, I didn’t need directions. When I got close, I could hear the remarks: “Oh, please,” I heard a stallion saying, his voice absolutely dripping with high-society disdain. “Apple fritters at the Grand Galloping Gala? This is a Society function, not a farmer’s market! And, really, they look like some sort of accident you’d have the Help clean off the floor—” I burst through the last line of ponies practically on top of him. He stared, open-mouthed at me, and his wife (I assume) moved to stand slightly behind him. “Good evening,” I said, shaking both of their dumbfounded hooves. “Princess Celestia. So, have you tried the artisanal pâtisserie tonight? I must say, we had to work hard to get them here, but the results are quite encouraging…” Applejack, leaning against a nearby pillar, lifted her head slightly. “A-artisinal pâtisserie?” the stallion stammered. I nodded. “Of course. Those apple treats down at the end,” I said, pointing. The pointing wasn’t necessary; nearly everything else had already been picked over, but Applejack’s cooking—arranged artfully-as-possible in wicker baskets, lined with red gingham—had barely been touched. “When Princess Luna suggested we have a small business help cater tonight’s event, I was a little skeptical, but they won me over—after all, everything is hoof-made, using organic, locally-sourced ingredients, and prepared according to old-fashioned recipes.” I smiled a little. “Of course, I understand they might not look up to the standards that you’d expect from the Canterlot Kitchens, but that’s just aesthetics, isn’t it?” He nodded slowly. “Of course, Your Highness—” “Good,” I said, “Then I hope you left some room for more. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I swept past him, feeling the gaze of the onlookers following me, and made a beeline towards the apple treats. That stallion was right; from this distance, they weren’t much to look at, considering. I grabbed a small stack of plates and started loading them up with everything I could reach. When Twilight and Rarity caught up, I handed them each a plate; when Rarity twittered at me for putting a second fritter on her plate, I added a third. “Now eat something, and like it,” I hissed under my breath. Twilight picked up a fork in her magic, cut off a small chunk of apple tart, and ate it; Rarity hesitated, then followed suit with one of her fritters. They both smiled; if this was anything like Applejack’s other cooking, they didn’t need to fake it, but it was still good to see them make the effort.. I grabbed a whole slice of pie in my magic and took an enormous bite. As I chewed, I made eye contact with Applejack, then gave a pointed side-nod towards where Rainbow and Pinkie were sitting. She nodded back, and started working her way through the crowd, her calls of “ ‘Scuse me, thank yeh kindly” audible even over the murmur of voices. “Alright girls,” I said, “Let’s go.” I led them towards the back corner of the room, still holding three or four plates—and I grinned a little as I heard, behind me, tentative hoofsteps approaching the refreshment table. As we passed a pillar, I noticed Shining Armor, standing at its base with a couple other guards, scanning the crowd. As soon as I saw him, I veered off. “Captain Armor,” I said amiably. “My friends and I would like a little privacy, if you please…?” He nodded, then turned and barked an order to the other guards. By the time I caught up to Twilight and Rarity, a squadron of golden-armored soldiers were following right behind me; as we reached the corner where all my friends were gathered, they deployed in a half-circle around us and stood at attention, shoulder-to-shoulder, facing outward. Though we were smack-dab in the middle of the biggest social event of the year, with their help, we were suddenly as isolated as if we’d been on the surface of the moon. I nodded in satisfaction, then turned to the bench, where the rest of my friends huddled. As soon as I saw them, my smile withered away. Rainbow perched on one edge of a marble bench, turned away from us, face in her hooves, bawling her eyes out. Next to her sat Pinkie, tears still fresh on her cheeks, looking up at me with deep, sad eyes. The others crowded around them—Twilight looked frazzled, Rarity defeated, and Applejack enraged. “Oh, girls,” I said quietly, “I’m so sorry—” And then they all started talking at once. “Blueblood, he—!” “And then she—!” “—an’ they said it was—” “How could you—!” I snarled, then stamped my hoof. The sharp crack of metal on marble was enough to scare them into silence. I took a deep breath, then sighed. “Look,” I said, “To start off—I’m sorry you’re all having a bad time. But the evening’s not over yet; let’s see if we still can’t save it. So…” I levitated three of the four plates I was still holding towards Pinkie, Rainbow, and Applejack. AJ took hers with a grateful nod, and Pinkie took the other two, then glanced at Rainbow, who was trying, and failing, to rein in her tears. “Eat up,” I told them. “It’ll help. And Applejack needs to know someone ate her snacks…” Applejack’s eyes blazed. “Darn tootin’,” she snapped. “You didn’t tell me that these are the sorta folks to insult a mare’s cookin’ to her face—” “I should have warned you,” I said. “I’m sorry.” Applejack continued like she hadn’t heard me. “And there they are, sayin’ all sorts a’ garbage—apples are peasant food, and have no place in Canterlot—” “Applejack,” I interrupted, “I know.” She glared at me, then snapped her mouth shut and folded her arms. I sighed. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated. “Hopefully, they’ll change their tune once they actually try them.” “I doubt it,” Rarity huffed. “These ponies are petty and cruel. Did you know Blueblood actually tried to come on to me?” “I didn’t,” I said, “though I wouldn’t put it past him.” “Well, he did,” Rarity continued. “I told him off like you said, and someone else must have heard. Now, no one will even look at me unless—” I bit my lip. “That… happens,” I admitted. “And, once again, I’m sorry. But I think your results with the dresses outweigh anything they could have said...” Rarity huffed and looked away. Twilight glanced at her, then back to me, then looked at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a good job in the line,” she said quietly. "I was just trying to help, and... well..." I smiled weakly. “That wasn’t your fault,” I said. “I should have planned a better…” “Yes!” Pinkie cut in. “This stupid Gala is so boring! Someone should have planned something to keep everyone from going all bonkazoid like this!” She dropped her head into her hooves. “I’ve been wandering around trying to find someone to talk to,” she whimpered, “Or someone who wants to dance. But everyone’s busy, and stuffy, and boring—” “She did warn you,” Applejack added. “I didn’t know it was going to be this bad!” cried Pinkie. “This isn’t a party! It’s not even a soiree! This is a stand-around-and-try-to-bore-each-other-to-death- festival!”She dropped her head again and sniffled. Twilight and I shared a look; up until this point, I’d always thought that 'bored to tears' was just an expression. “Pinkie,” I said gently, “I don’t know if this means much at this point, but I’m sorry.” She sniffled again and gave me the vaguest hint of a smile. I returned it, then looked to Rainbow. She wiped her nose on her arm, then looked up at me. “I blew it,” she moaned. I widened my eyes. “What happened?” I asked. She turned to the rest of us, the picture of absolute grief. “I blew it,” she repeated. “I went to go talk to Spitfire, and she was so cool and famous, and I tried to keep a lid on it, but I just started babbling… a-and then I musta said somethin’, ‘cause she got mad, and…” She buried her face in her hooves again and started blubbering. I looked around at each of them, and, as I saw the heartbreak and disappointment in their faces, I felt my heart rise to my throat. All of them had come to the Gala because I had promised them the best night ever. They had sweated and dreamed and worked for it, because I said it would be amazing. They had come, eyes full of stars, to the Gala, knowing that things would work out, because I had said they would. And now, because I had promised the impossible, each and every one of them had their hearts shattered… “Girls,” I said, my voice thick, “I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault…” “No, it’s not,” Twilight said quietly. “It is,” I insisted. “I… I wanted you all to come, because I thought you’d enjoy it… And, well…” I sniffled, then rubbed at my eyes. “Twi?” I said, my voice shaking. She looked up at me. “Yes?” “What time does Doughnut Joe’s close again?” I asked. “Midnight most days, 2 AM weekends,” she responded immediately. I smiled a little. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Take a minute to regroup and talk it over. The night’s not done. We can save this.” I looked around. “Wanna give it another shot?” Pinkie nodded eagerly. Rainbow gave a half-hearted shrug. Applejack smiled a little, then stood. Rarity looked at me, then nodded as well. Twilight glanced at her friends for a moment, then turned to me. “Yes,” she said, “Let’s give that a try.” I sighed, then smiled a little. I had screwed it all up—but, maybe, things were starting to get a little brighter. “Good,” I said. “Good. Just, let me see if I can get away, and…” Suddenly, I frowned. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Where’s Fluttershy?” At that instant, a rumbling shook the floor. A cry rippled through the Gala, but I froze. High, shrill trumpeting filled the air—but it came, not from the orchestra, but from outside. Slowly, I turned to face the tall glass doors at the end of the hall. The ones leading out into the Menagerie. “Oh, fuck,” I breathed. I turned to the others. “Run,” I hissed. They looked at me in confusion and dismay. “Run!” I shrieked. And suddenly, the world split open.