//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Incomplete // by Dark_Soliloquy //------------------------------// Celestia didn't quite now how it had gotten to this point. Her rise to power, the sudden fame and glory thrust upon her all seemed like a blur. It was almost as if she had become famous overnight. She knew that wasn't true, of course, but as time went on the past seemed to muddle and blur in her mind. Celestia remembered, however, how very young she was-- To young, it would seem, to be a proper ruler. Sometimes she would curse cruel fate for hindering the freedom of her and Luna... Why, they were only youths. She herself was a naive, selfish, frivolous young mare back then, finding no pleasure in the mundane tasks of royalty and having no heart for her subjects. Luna was wise beyond her years, yes, but with no rein on her emotions and a fluctuating self-esteem. Celestia was not fit to rule, and it would be almost cruel to force Luna in such a position. It was duty, after all, that caused such a deep evil to possess her sister-- a mere teenager, young and afraid. To think, back then, that Equestria laid in the hooves of mere teenagers. It was unfair. Still, it perplexed Celestia to think that her young, foolish self gained so much love an adoration. She surely didn't deserve it. Yet all her subjects idolized her, some even calling her a goddess with the strength and power akin to the sun itself. She thought of all the stained-glass murals, extravagant celebrations, and gilded silk banners, and smiled sadly to herself. The ponies of Equestria made them all for her, and she let them. Celestia let them sweat and toil over masterpieces depicting the sun princess' sovereignty, might, and compassion; she let them carve her face in stone and write her name on walls. She let them worship a being that didn't even exist. Celestia never was a goddess, some days she didn't even feel adequate enough to be a princess. Sometimes she wanted to throw her golden crown in the dirt, to tell everyone that she was never worthy of any praise, to tell them all the truth. But, deep down, she knew that would never happen. She relished the limelight far too much, the praise, the love, the adoration surrounding her in every distracted her from the guilt. The pedestal she sat atop was one of the only things that put a smile on her lips, even if only for a fleeting moment. The praise-- the praise was like a drug to her, and she couldn't get enough of it. Celestia needed to fill the hole of her own shame and inadequacy with the approval of others. What would they all think if they knew that their beloved "Sun Goddess" desperately sought their love, however fleeting? How she needed it in order to live with herself and all of the regret? How... How she was willing to do anything-- lie, pretend-- to keep their approval? They would reject her, no doubt, and that was what Celestia was afraid of. What would they all think when they found out that their ruler, the Sun Goddess herself, was far from the noble they thought she was? She was their angel, their protector, their sovereign. In their eyes, she was the very pinnacle of perfection. Oh, her sweet, naive little ponies; little did they know, their idolization was her vice, their pedestal her prison. Even Luna, at times, saw her sister through the haze of rose-colored glass. Celestia's heart ached whenever she thought about how, in the past, Luna had seen her sister as a better, almost holier pony. An angel. An angel that was better than her in every way, which was why she and her precious light were so better loved than the inky black of night ever could be. And from that sprung the resentment and hatred cultivating in the lunar sister's psyche. Poor Luna's downfall was indeed Celestia's doing; she was certain of that fact. It yet another mistake, twisted and turned into a grand victory and yet another stained-glass mural, for her to see every single day of her life-- and now, for Luna to see for the rest of her life. It was, indeed, Celestia's greatest failure, which was why she tried to turn it into her greatest victory. All the murals decorating the walls fooled everypony into thinking all the Princess' mistakes were great victories and great strides for Equestria, they were beautiful pieces of artwork depicting their ruler's bravery and nobilty. For Celestia, however, all the murals reminded her of were old wounds and old mistakes. She had let everypony believe those lies, and she knew it. Celestia kept telling herself that she was doing the right thing, that it was far too late to correct them. They weren't really lies, were they? She did save them all, didn't she? Not really, no, not truly. She hated herself for hiding behind all the lies and exaggerations, and everyday the shame and guilt would eat away at her being, gnawing away at her psyche. And what did she do to stop it? Nothing. She was too pathetic, too weak to free the truth and free herself. No, Celestia. You can still make things right. She thought hopefully. She turned and gazed at the stained glass masterpieces, smiling sadly to herself. One day, you will make things right.