Luna backed out of Night Blossom’s grasp, a coldness settling over her. “Name thyself, entity. I would know what I face.”
“I am what I appear to be,” Blossom replied, her expression hurt, but carrying no apparent surprise. She sat in the same position that she had been in when Luna embraced her, making no effort to do more than return Luna’s gaze.
“No!” Luna said vehemently. “You are not her. I saw her off on her journey, aged but still beautiful.” Luna willed an image of Night Blossom on her deathbed into view, and it shimmered in the air between them, manifested by Luna’s magic.
“I know, I was there. I so feared for you, my princess.”
“So, some specter of her? Did I so wrong her in life that she lingers to torment me?” Luna demanded, a single eyebrow cocked, her eyes cold and hard. “I refuse to believe that. Try again.”
“No, it is as you say. She... I passed, easily and thankful for your presence. And though she feared what might become of you without her, I was content to wait for all eternity for your own passing.” Blossom replied.
Before them both, an image appeared of a wizened mare, smiling up at her princess while bedded in warm covers. A slightly younger-looking Luna stood over her, grief-stricken tears streaming down her face.
“I can make you young again. There are powerful spells that heal even the ravages of time—” the other Luna said, stopping as Blossom laid an unsteady hoof over one of Luna’s own forelegs.
“You cannot.” The older Blossom replied gently. “Not without great risk to yourself. I have already outlived everypony else I have ever known, Princess. I will not outlive you as well.”
“But... I...”
“I know,” Blossom said, reaching up and touching Luna’s cheek. “You’d take the risk, even knowing what it might mean. But you mustn’t.”
The pair vanished, leaving only the younger version of Night Blossom and the older Luna regarding one another warily.
“You whispered to her that you’d never love again as she passed, and a spark passed between you. Do you remember?” Blossom asked.
Luna’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “I... do... I thought it was some form of magic she released as she passed on. I... I had never seen a pony die, before. Not up close, at least. I did not know what to expect. But... you can’t mean—”
Blossom nodded. “Your own magic; returned to you after she had no further need of it. Magic that you used to save her, once, and that helped her to live long past a normal pony’s lifespan.”
No sound escaped Luna.
Gesturing to herself, Blossom continued. “Magic that resonated with a lifetime of memories of love for you, that carried an imprint of the mare herself. An imprint you locked away, here, in your Heart of Hearts, and threw away the key.”
“My... Heart of Hearts?” Luna asked, her voice sounding small even to herself. She shook herself. The entity before her could yet be a threat, and complacency was not to be desired. “Is that where we are supposed to be?”
Blossom nodded. “The place in which all that you love is kept close. I tend it, as I always have.”
Luna took a long moment to look around at her surroundings. In the darkness her various flowers bloomed, opening by starlight and moonlight and letting out sweet fragrances. Allowing herself to listen intently, she heard the small sounds of predator and prey in an eternal dance for survival. Indeed, much that she loved was here.
But not everything.
“If what you say is true, then where is my sister?” Luna asked with a wry grin. “Was there no room for her here?”
Blossom winced, and seemed hesitant to answer. “My princess... here is where you keep all that you love... But your feelings for your sister are... complicated.”
“Is she here or not?” Luna demanded. “For if she is not, I say you lie, and this is some trick meant to tempt me with falsehoods!”
Blossom trembled, and pointed in a direction with a shaky hoof. “She is not here as I am, for she yet lives. But there is something of her here. It is as you say, you do truly love her.”
Luna’s gaze followed the direction of Blossom’s hoof, and she saw a statue off in the distance. She walked towards it, and in due time found herself below a largish statue carved out of white marble. It was of Tia; looking very young, a cheeky grin on her face as she hugged an even younger Luna. It was intricately detailed and inlaid with color making the statue feel as though she were looking at a younger version of herself and her sister despite it still very much being a statue. The carved inscription read Best Sister and was inlaid with gold and outlined in silver.
“This was the time when you loved her with all of your heart.” Blossom said, quietly. “Before either of you encountered another soul. You love her still, even now after all you’ve gone through together, but this was when you loved her best. And this is how you see her when you feel the greatest affection for her.”
“Is... is that why you appear as you do?” Luna asked, almost not wanting an answer. “Because I loved you best when—”
“You loved Blossom best all of her life, Princess.” Blossom said, an odd tone of solemnity in her voice. “But in your Heart of Hearts, I was always young and beautiful to you, no matter how she aged.”
Luna sat, looking up at the statue, simply staring at it for what felt like an eternity.
“I am sorry if I sadden you, Princess.”
Luna shook her head, turning back to Blossom. “You say you have been here since she passed?”
“Aye.”
“Why then, have I not dreamed of this before now?”
Blossom smiled sadly. “As I said, you shut the gates, and discarded the key. But something has changed in you, I think. The doors buckle from without, and the lock is breaking. Somepony wants to come in very badly, I suspect. So much that you must answer, one way or another.”
Luna glanced back in the direction she had come from, seeing the large garden gates that had guarded her private garden in the old castle. They were well-constructed things, capable of withstanding a siege if needs be. Yet there were visible signs of damage, the ancient wood splitting in places. And even as she looked, a loud crash could be heard from the other side.
“What shall we do, Princess?” Blossom asked quietly. “Nopony has approached that gate since you secured it. Do you wish to defend yourself against this newcomer?”
Luna startled as another resounding crash shook the door. She turned back to Blossom in something of a panic. “I... I do not know!”
“Only you can open the gates, Princess.” Blossom said. “But if I may... there is yet room here. I’d welcome the company, if you’d but allow it.”
Luna looked back and forth between Blossom and the door, torn with indecision. She did not know what battered at the gate, and the unknown could frighten even the likes of her. “I...”
Blossom reached deep into her mane, pulling forth a shining key. She lifted one of Luna’s forehooves with her own, and placed the key in the frog thereof. “Go, Princess. I’ll make sure your guests are comfortable.” With that, she smiled, reared up, and kissed Luna gently on the cheek. “And perhaps you might return some night?”
Luna stared down at the key, glancing back at the door that creaked and protested. Resolutely, she stood, taking the key in her magic.
“I love you, my Princess.” Blossom called after her.
Luna turned the key, and the door burst inward.
She woke with a start, causing Fleur to protest sleepily and cling to her barrel all the more tightly in her unrest.
Luna blinked, allowing herself to adjust to reality slowly. She was in Fleur and Fancy’s bed, having stayed there with them after attending their party.
The garden in which she’d just been walking was in reality sadly overgrown; the walls crumbling as the Everfree slowly reclaimed the castle for its own. She knew this because she had gone there herself to fetch seedlings to help start her new garden in Canterlot. She hadn’t remained long, almost fleeing in her haste to escape the memories therein.
“Je t'aime, ma princesse…” Fleur murmured sleepily, snuggling in as close as possible. Fleur settled down again once Luna reached upward with her free hoof and smoothed her lover's mane.
Luna did her best to calm her wildly beating heart. Waking from a dream not of her own devising was an experience she’d all but forgotten. It was interesting that even she could be surprised. She glanced backward, and confirmed the reason for the cold draft on her back: Fancy, who had been embracing her from behind, had gotten up at some point.
One of the many reasons Luna and Fancy had ‘hit it off’ right away was that he was a night pony. Not by habit, but by affliction; he was lucky to get three to four hours of sleep in a night. He was thus both a pony of the day and night, with the tired, ever-suffering smile that came with that. It was the sort of smile only a fellow pony of the night forced to be awake during daylight hours could truly appreciate.
Luna was especially careful with his dreams when she needed to interact with them, trying to maintain that delicate balance of restful but entertaining without being too stimulating. An insomniac’s dreams were especially fragile, and were all the more precious for it.
This evening, however, she’d understandably been distracted, and it seemed he had woken of his own accord and managed to wriggle out of bed without disturbing either Luna or Fleur.
She was simultaneously cross with him and feeling guilty for not patrolling that evening and making certain his sleep was a sound one.
Fleur’s grip remained unchanged, and a small smile adorned her lips, which made Luna wish to kiss them. Unfortunately, she also wished to get up and check on Fancy.
Unlike most ponies, however, she could be in two places at once, or a reasonable approximation thereof. She quietly shifted into her mist form, leaving behind a shell of force in her shape for Fleur to cling to. She then slipped a pillow inside of the shape, and allowed it too to dissipate, leaving her lover to clutch at the pillow.
Past experience told her that Fancy would be in his den, quietly reading while enjoying a pipe. She coalesced into her physical form, walking quietly down the hallway to seek him out.
She would need to speak to both of them at some later time, but at that moment Fancy’s opinion was needed more than Fleur’s, since Fleur’s was well known to both Luna and Fancy.
She found him in his reading chair as she had expected, smoking from his pipe and occasionally sipping at a tumbler of scotch, also as expected. His eyebrows rose as she emerged from the darkness, and he gestured with his pipe towards a chair opposite his own, lifting the bottle of scotch with a questioning look.
“No, thank you, Sir Pants,” she said as she took a seat. She poured herself a glass of water from his bar, taking a long sip before setting it down.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said with a little grimace. “I was as quiet as I could be.”
“You did not. I... woke from a dream. It was somewhat disturbing.”
His posture changed, going from relaxed to one she’d come to associate with him being fully engaged in the petitioner. He’d have made a good lord in her day, when lordship meant more than inherited wealth and a shield to hang on the wall. As it was, he dominated his circle of friends (and everypony wished to be Fancy’s friend, even his business rivals) by his sheer presence. That same presence would have lead armies to glory, or death, depending on his wishes.
It was that she’d first responded to upon meeting them both, for though Fleur was comely and witty, Fancy commanded respect in his own quiet yet oddly compelling way.
“Interesting,” he said, puffing on his pipe thoughtfully. “What does the Princess of Dreams consider disturbing?”
“Very little,” Luna said with a self-deprecating laugh. “But I speak of my own dreams, not those of the common pony.”
He nodded, tapping his ashes in the ashtray next to his glass. “That is what I mean as well. Considering what I hear my contemporaries expound about their dreams from time to time, I imagine yours must be fascinating.”
“Not so, normally,” Luna admitted. “In fact, you would probably consider them quite boring. I do not often craft myself a dream, instead allowing my mind to wander the Dream Realm as my body rests. This one was... not crafted, but sprung upon me, fully formed.”
He nodded, looking no more enlightened but nonetheless still interested. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, but you seem to imply that’s not normal for you.”
“‘Tis not, and that is what worries me,” Luna said with a frown. “Or... perhaps 'tis not worry... Concern? Befuddlement?” Her face screwed up in confusion. “There are many words that come close to the feeling, yet none do it justice. It vexes me.”
They were both silent for a time, before Fancy said: “Surely you of all ponies would know of a dream’s meaning.”
She shook her head ruefully. “I am less ruler and more... caretaker. I attempt to help ponies learn what their dreams wish to teach them. I shield them from their nightmares when necessary and appropriate, but there are times where they are a mystery even to the likes of myself.”
He nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip from his scotch. “Perhaps you’d like to share the contents of the dream?”
She didn’t answer right away, gathering her thoughts for a moment and deciding just what she wanted to share.
In the end, she decided that if she wished to explore true intimacy once more, it could not be done by holding herself apart from either of them.
“Have you ever dreamed of a loved one long passed?” she asked.
“On occasion,” he replied, looking a little nonplussed but thankfully not offended by the question. “My mother, sometimes my father.”
Hearing that gave her pause, and she asked: “Truly? You’ve lost them both? You’re not very old...”
“Airship accident. Happened long ago, when I was barely old enough to begin taking the reins of our family’s affairs in my father’s place,” he replied succinctly. “It’s not exactly something one discusses over drinks.”
Luna frowned, feeling conflicted. Her attempt to relate had gone awry and she wished to comfort him for his loss. “I... am sorry, Fancy,” she said, feeling at a loss. She added: “I was too young to truly have memories of my own parents from before my sister and I were sent to Equestria. I... suppose it is somewhat like having lost them, but having never known them I do not know what was lost. I think I envy you in that you knew yours, even if you lost them too soon.”
He chuckled, waving a hoof. “Oh, no worries on that account. My parents lived exactly as they wished, and died doing what they loved. They might perhaps have wished for more time, but I doubt they had many regrets as to how their end came about. They’re well remembered, for far more than how they passed.”
Luna nodded. “More time is always wanted. But rare are those who make the most of the time they have and pass with no regrets. I am glad to hear it.”
“Yes, well... to loved ones who left us behind.” Fancy said, lifting his glass in a salute.
Luna imitated his gesture, feeling a little silly that she was doing so with a glass of water. She took a sip as he did, then set her drink down. “I... I dreamed of a pony very dear to me. I lost her many centuries ago. Dreaming of her was like having an old scar ripped open,” she admitted, trailing off quietly.
He was silent for a while, puffing on his pipe thoughtfully. “I can see how that might be painful, but surely somewhat pleasant as well?”
“Yes.” Luna replied, looking up in surprise. “So much so that at first I mistook the dream for a memory of times long past. But... she spoke as one who had long awaited my return, who had watched and waited for me from afar. It was almost like seeing her again in the flesh. Pleasant, but... unsettling.”
“Would it be forward of me to assume your relationship was more than friendship?”
“Ever so much more,” Luna said with a laugh, as much at herself as in response to the question. “When I lost her... I thought I would never love another, certainly not in the way I did her.” Luna took a moment to steady herself, then looked Fancy in the eyes unflinchingly. “I believe... I was perhaps half right, Fancy. And I fear what that means greatly.”
He held her gaze, seemingly unsure of what to say. Luna could understand, as she herself was uncertain of what more could be said.
When he finally broke the silence between them, it was with a sudden and unexpected laugh. He smiled at her, looking pleased. “You should tell Fleur. She’ll be thrilled.”
A soft yawn preceded a very disheveled-looking Fleur as she entered the room, looked at both of them crossly, and said: “Tell me what, mes petits?”
“I—” Luna began before Fleur cut her off with a single hoof held up for silence, then pressed to her forehead.
“You are both terrible ponies and I despise you.”
This made Luna even more distressed, and she tried once more: “Fleur—”
“Fancy, give me water and some of those pills. My head is splitting.”
“Already on it, love.” Fancy said as he levitated a silver plate towards her with two pills and a glass of water on top of it.
“Thank you, mon coeur, je t'aime.” she said as she quickly took the pills. She then sat down heavily in a third chair set just to the side of Fancy’s. “I woke up kissing a pillow. I can still taste the cotton.”
“I am sorry to have fled from your grasp, Fleur—” Luna replied with a wince. “I was awoken suddenly and needed to clear my head.”
Fleur looked up at her and grinned, then winced. “No need, ma petite. Fancy often needs to do so as well.”
“Do you require healing?” Luna asked anxiously.
“I require sense,” Fleur said ruefully as she rubbed one of her temples with a hoof. “Wine is very nice when you drink it, not as nice when you awake after you’ve drunk too much. The pills help. More sleep helps too.”
“If you are sure...” Luna replied, an unhappy frown upon her face.
“The headaches help remind me to indulge less,” Fleur said firmly. “But I thank you for your kindness.”
“Fleur, the princess and I were just having the most interesting conversation—” Fancy began, then stopped abruptly as Luna frowned at him, shaking her head.
“A conversation best saved for morning, I think.” Luna said, casting a meaningful look in Fleur’s direction while still holding Fancy’s gaze. “Not something to consider when one’s head is splitting.”
Fleur yawned loudly, before getting up and stretching slowly. “Whatever it is will keep, I am certain. I am going back to bed.” She kissed Fancy on his cheek as she passed, then kissed Luna lightly on her lips. It was casually affectionate, speaking not of desire but simple and pure love.
Luna watched her go for a long while, finally releasing a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.
“Having second thoughts?” Fancy inquired as he tipped the ashes from his pipe.
Luna shook her head. “If anything, I grow only more certain. It just... worries me, Fancy.”
“Truly? You already know how she feels, Luna. How could you returning her affections be a problem?”
“It would not be, were it not for—” Luna cut herself off before she misspoke. “What I mean is... for her to have affection for me is... simple. We speak of it not in public, there is no scandal. But for me to love her, while she is—”
“While she is married to me,” Fancy finished for her. “I see.”
“You do not!” Luna insisted. “Not truly! I would never, ever think to take her from you, yet... I do not wish to hide what I would share with her...” she trailed off, muttering: “Not again. I refuse.”
“What are your intentions, then?” Fancy asked.
“I... I am uncertain. Royalty... generally does not marry, unless it’s to other royalty. Of course, my sister and I have outlived all other true royals, and there is little worry about succession when neither of us age appreciably on a pony scale.”
“Really? I had thought the Bluebloods—”
“The Bluebloods are a remnant of Princess Platinum, and no longer have any real relevance in governing, though they still hold lands and titles befitting their family.” Luna shook her head. “Even were your relative stations not an issue, I am uncertain how one would go about marrying a couple who is already married in any case. I... what I would have is... not a title, precisely. I ask not for a wife or husband. I... I would acknowledge you as... mine. Held dear to me. But... I know you hold your heart for her alone, and I... I enjoy your company, and your wit, yet I do not yet know if what I hold for you goes beyond respect...”
“You’re worried about how I feel?” Fancy asked, sounding surprised. “I... well I do admit it’s a bit awkward for a Princess to ask me whether I mind joining some sort of royal harem—”
“Not a harem.” Luna said firmly. “Harems are for those who care about little more than pleasures of the flesh. I ask that I be able to name you... my dearest companions. Those I treasure. I... I am not certain what one would call such. It was never spoken of in my day, at least not in public.”
“And what would that entail, exactly?”
“Well, for one, it would mean an end to the subterfuge. You both would be welcome in the palace and have access to the amenities reserved for my sister and myself, normally. If I bear you a foal, it would be publically acknowledged as a Prince or Princess of the Realm, though the title itself would mean little, unless by some infinitesimal chance it was born a true alicorn. Perhaps a ceremony, a modest month-long celebration, feasting—”
“Why a month long, if I might ask?”
“It’s one full cycle of my moon.” Luna replied without missing a beat. “Of course, any foals Fleur would bear would be lavished with every advantage I could offer...” She tapped a hoof to her lip, thinking for a moment. “Ah! We haven’t had an Archduke since his line passed in the third century. I could very easily—”
“Luna, you have to know neither of us have ever expected favors just because we happen to share a bed with you.” Fancy replied, frowning.
“We are aware! Yet, We would do it because of who thou art, not merely because of who thou art to Us.” Luna said earnestly. “How Our sister has not already placed thee in the highest seat amongst thy peers is beyond Us.”
Fancy sighed, slowly removing his reading glasses from the bridge of his nose and cleaning them with a cloth. He looked back up at her, saying: “Do you honestly think she never tried?”
Pinkie Pie was experiencing a smile problem.
This was not to be confused with a smile emergency, which would have required; at minimum a party of ten ponies, a large cake, and the services of a rodeo clown. A problem was more manageable, usually requiring only hugs and encouragement, and maybe a mural.
This assumed, of course, that she knew what was wrong. And that was the cause of the problem: Twilight wouldn’t tell her, and if pressed would only say that it wasn’t something Pinkie could help with.
She had some ideas of what it could be about, ranging from worries about Celly’s health, to worries about their friends, to more general worries about all the baddies that seemed to be coming around since Black Snooty had first showed up to wreck everypony’s day by making it night all the time.
Twilight was a pony who worried a lot.
Pinkie was generally not. At least, not where she really thought about it. There was a part of her that did worry quite a bit, but she tried to keep that part distracted with parties and songs as much as she could. When enough ponies were smiling around you it was easier to smile yourself. Enough laughter could drown out the fears.
It was only when she found a problem she couldn’t solve with cupcakes that she could hear that voice. It was not a bad voice. It was just sad, and lonely. It liked bright colors and songs, and sugary treats. It did not like it when Pinkie herself worried.
“Pinkie?” Celly’s voice asked from a bazillion miles away. “Could you check on the bread?”
Pinkie smiled, her attention redirected from the inward to the outward in a transition she made more times than she could count in a day. “Sure!” she answered in a cheery voice, as glad for the distraction as she was to be helping Celly.
The bread was nice and crusty and smelled wonderful, but would quickly become burnt if not removed from the oven. She deftly scooped it out with an oven-mitt clad hoof, depositing it on the countertop with a flourish. “Bread’s done!”
Celestia nodded, having finished laying out the plates for the rest of the meal. “Now we can bake the quiche,” Celestia said, opening the oven, adjusting the temperature, and sliding the pan inside. She set a timer, then sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh of satisfaction.
Pinkie joined her, bounding her way over to the table and landing in the opposite chair with a plop. She had to wait for the timer, which was not her favorite time. When she was working at Sugarcube Corner she tended to have all sorts of things baking at once so that every time she had to wait it wasn’t long before a buzzer went off telling her it was time to take something out, or apply frosting, or take a quick break. Baking with Celly was fun, but because she tended to make one thing at a time it left lots of times in between buzzers and Pinkie didn’t always know what to say or do.
Fortunately, Celly did usually have something.
“Pinkie, what’s been bothering you?” Celestia asked quietly.
Unfortunately, the something wasn’t a thing Pinkie was ready to talk about.
“What? No! Everything is fine!” Pinkie yanked a white-starched shirt from her mane, wriggled it on, and pulled at the collar uncomfortably. “Situation normal! Yeppers! All baked skies and clear pies! How’re you?”
Celly just looked at her as Pinkie tried to keep up her smile under the strain.
Just before her smile cracked and fell off, Pinkie lowered her head to the table. “I can’t! Not where she might hear!”
Pinkie felt her chin being lifted gently by Celestia’s hoof. All around her, shimmering golden magic shone, and for just a moment, Pinkie was captivated by just how pretty Celly was.
“It seems Cup was right,” Celly said, a little frown on her face. “I’ve put us inside of a soundproofed bubble. Twilight is still downstairs, so she won’t be able to hear us. Can you tell me what’s wrong, now?”
Pinkie looked into Celly’s eyes for a long while. “Are you sure she can’t hear us?” she asked in a whisper.
“I’m certain.” Celly said in a normal tone of voice. “You could set off an explosion inside of this bubble and not be heard.”
Pinkie considered that before she opened her mouth while simultaneously digging in her mane for her emergency pyrotechnic supply, only to have her mouth covered by Celly’s hoof.
“I wasn’t suggesting we actually set off any explosions.”
Pinkie frowned, but nodded after a moment, tucking the ‘boom box’ back inside. “Okie dokie.” She took a deep breath, and started unloading everything she’d been worried about for the last two days. “So, everything was going really really well. During Rares’ and Flutters’ wedding, Twi-twi was all dreamy because pretty much everything went exactly like she wanted except Luna kinda flubbed her notes and then burned them but that was still fine and Twi only had a tiny freakout over it.”
There was no response from Celestia, followed by a slow smile. “I really need to ask Twilight to show me the highlights as soon as possible.”
Pinkie nodded, smiling herself. “It was nice. Luna did this loud-voice flowy-hair kinda-scary-thing and all the lights went out. Then she started talking in an even deeper voice about the sun and the moon and things not being broken.”
“She used the old ritual?” Celly asked, looking surprised.
Pinkie shrugged. “I dunno. But it was loud.”
“Yes...” Celestia said, a little breathlessly. “‘Tis also quite surprising. Many was the time We wouldst cause the matriarch to faint, and once We lost an elderly father as his heart failed him. T’was a sad honeymoon for the newlyweds....” Celestia shook herself. “Sometimes the old ways are best forgotten.”
Pinkie giggled faintly. “You sound just like her! That’s neat!”
Celly blinked in surprise. “Forgive Us— That is... forgive me, Pinkie. When I hearken back it becomes easy to slip into old habits, much like an old dress.”
“Yeah! Like your old dress!” Pinkie said, her head nodding rapidly. “So, everything was pretty much okay until after we sent Rarity and Shy off to their honeymoon. Then the crinkles started.”
Celestia did not ask what the ‘crinkles’ were. It was one of many odd phrases she’d come to accept as she’d gotten to know Pinkie better.
Twilight described them as ‘Pinkieisms’, and seemed to find them as endearing as she did confounding.
This particular one referred to tiny wrinkles that appeared at the edges of Twilight’s eyes when she was particularly worried or stressed about something.
As familiar with Twilight as Celestia was, even she had not picked up on Twilight’s facial mannerisms. This wasn’t to say she hadn’t looked for them, more that Twilight had learned at an early age to craft a mask much as her mentor had done.
Celestia had strong suspicions of when Twilight had felt it necessary to pick up that habit, but thinking about it too much made her feel miserable. She was a mare that could not afford to dwell overlong on her own mistakes. She’d had a very long life and thus had many more opportunities to make errors in judgement.
It was far easier to simply treat every situation as a chance to atone than to waste time lamenting about all she needed to atone for. Perhaps it had earned her a reputation of being especially soft, even weak-willed at times (allowing some petitioners to get away with far more than she probably should), but it was better than being thought to be some sort of tyrant.
This wasn’t to say she extended that leniency to everypony. There were some families that she could be said to have developed a pattern of abuse towards, which she thought of as ‘punishing the stupid’. She was waiting for just one pony amongst their lines to show signs of change so that she might assuage her conscience by being especially nice to them for their lifetime. Unfortunately, that had yet to come to pass.
If things continued for another generation, she thought she might impose by introducing a wild card into their collective gene pools in the way of a newly created noble line of particularly sensible ponies. She had been observing the Apples for that very purpose for a few centuries.
The day that particular horseshoe dropped would be an interesting one, as the Apples and their extended relations represented a fair portion of the population (nearly eighteen percent, as of the last census) and included many nouveau riche branches such as the Oranges in Manehatten. They were already very influential in financial matters, if she in turn declared the family line as nobility it might be just the sort of political upset her country needed.
It helped to know that Fancy Pants - one of her staunchest supporters, found Applejack charming, as he was one of the few members of the existing aristocracy she counted on to set an example for the rest, and seeing he favored Applejack might help them get the idea that integrity was currently en vogue.
That or it would lead to a rash of affected countryisms, an increased interest in fruit, and many many wrangler hats, which would at least prove amusing.
While Celestia inwardly plotted the diabolical betterment of her nobility, outwardly, she was listening with great attentiveness while Pinkie Pie described every moment of their flight home. Though much of it was amusing more than it was helpful in making Celestia understand what was wrong with Twilight, it helped foster an ever clearer sense of Pinkie’s growing distress.
“And then she said there is no such thing as pink!” Pinkie cried out, wincing while she tapped her hooves together as if just saying the words would make her disappear in a puff of logic. “And I was all ‘are you loco in the cocoa or what?’ but she was serious! Like pink is just some purple only lighter—”
She probably should have remained silent, but the teacher in Celestia made her point out: “While that’s technically true, pink is definitely recognized as its own hue.”
“Whomses!” Pinkie said with sudden vehemence.
Celestia blinked, but when Pinkie only smiled back at her rather than make any attempt to clarify what her outburst was about, she continued. “Well... pink is a ... type of purple as well, spectrum being full of subtle differences, but then my own coat color falls on the extreme end of that scale, being a barely noticeable fuchsia, which is amongst the purples and pinks, though closer to pink because it contains more red.”
Pinkie simply stared at her, her eyes wider than Celestia could ever recall having seen them open. “Your coat is pink?”
“A very, very, very pale shade—”
Celestia’s further attempts to explain color theory and palettes were interrupted by a crushing set of forelegs wrapped around her throat.
“I knew I liked you the moment I saw you!” Pinkie spouted out with barely contained glee. “Pink mane under all those colors, and a pink coat too! We could be twinsies!”
“P-pinkie—”
“And when your mane is all magicky it has all the colors! Just like a Rainboom!” Pinkie giggled happily as she let Celestia go. “You’re like all my favorite things at once.”
Celestia said nothing for a while as she simply caught her breath.
“You know, Twilight has these nice streaks in her hair,” Pinkie continued as if she hadn’t just squeezed the life out of one of the two princesses of the realm. “One’s just a little less purpley, but there’s these other streaks... It’s almost pink. I really like those, too,” she paused, adding in a whisper: “But I don’t tell her because I don’t want her to feel bad.”
Celestia’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but she made a quick zipping motion with her hooves, a wry grin spreading across in the wake of her hoof. A sudden thought occurred to her, and while normally she might have dismissed it as silly, when related to these two it made a startling amount of sense.
“You know, Pinkie... that might be why Twilight was trying to explain color theory to you. Just like you like that she’s got some almost-pink, she might like that pink is a pale purple of sorts.”
Celestia had occasion to thank the kind soul of whoever had designed the sound barrier spell she was casting that they’d had the foresight to not make it airtight as well, as Pinkie was doing her level best to make their little dome into a vacuum.
“Twilight likes that I’m kinda purpley?!” Pinkie said, squishing her face in her excitement. “That’s soooo cute!”
“We often see traits we admire in ponies we find attractive,” Celestia said judiciously, though she shared in Pinkie’s bright smile.
My, what an interesting observation.
Celestia’s smile quirked a little at the edges in sudden confusion. “What?” she said, very quietly.
Oh, don’t let me bother you. I was just going through some of your recent memories. You and Pinkie flying off to Twilight’s rescue after the poor dear worked herself into a state. Well, you flying, her diving off you in midair.
“Did you have a point?” Celestia whispered back.
Just that Pinkie tends to jump in headfirst when she’s worried about Twilight. Wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t hesisted to make the dive yourself, though. Maybe take the lead instead of following hers, since she seems a little lost.
“Unless I’m mistaken, I may have resolved Pinkie’s concern just now,” Celestia replied under her breath.
“Well, one of them,” Pinkie replied as if she were the other party in the conversation. “It’s nice to know Twi-twi still likes pink, but I don’t think that’s all that’s been bothering her.”
A lesser pony might have had trouble transitioning from an internal dialogue into an external dialogue, but Celestia was a long time practitioner, having spent most of her life musing to herself to pass the time during long-winded court petitions. “I see. Did she say anything else of note?”
“Well...” Pinkie thought, tapping a hoof to her chin. “She mentioned being worried about Dashie and Applejack, and Rarity and Fluttershy, and how it made her a little sad that she couldn’t go see them. But I think maybe she was trying not to say something else?”
This lead to a moment of deep contemplation for both of them, Celestia attempting to remember any signs of worry from Twilight while Pinkie tried to think of anything else that had concerned her over the last few days.
“Maybe...” Pinkie began before shaking her head. “No, she’d have mentioned if any more Pinkies turned up.”
Celestia’s eyebrows rose, but she did not ask what Pinkie meant, but dearly hoped it was merely a reference to changelings.
More happy ponies to go around might be nice, but I’ll concede that in her case perhaps there can be too much of a good thing. Astra said, seemingly in agreement.
Celestia’s gaze went to the door that lead to the basement of the library. She thought back to the preceding weeks, trying to remember if she had witnessed anything unusual about Twilight’s behavior.
She does seem to spend an awfully long time down there, doesn’t she? Astra said. What do you suppose she’s been doing?
Celestia frowned, hoping she herself wasn’t the cause of Twilight’s worry. Ever since the mishap with Rarity, Twilight had seemed unduly concerned with speeding up Celestia’s recovery. Despite repeated assurances that time and rest were all that was needed.
Pinkie had been looking at her for some time, with an expectant hopeful expression. “Do you know why?”
“I...” Celestia hesitated on the verge of telling Pinkie it was nothing to worry about, then sighed regretfully. Much as it might have been good to settle Pinkie’s mind, it would only be worse when Twilight continued to show worrisome behavior. “I’m afraid I don’t. I do have some theories, but nothing I can say for certain.”
Pinkie let out a sigh, then nodded. “Right.”
They both sagged visibly, looking down at the table as if it would present some answer that it had not before.
“Am I being a silly Pinkie?” Pinkie asked abruptly, looking straight into Celestia’s startled countenance. “I mean, here I am, being all worried, and she’s downstairs probably working on her magic, or something else super important!” She frowned slightly tapping her hoof to her chin, and then in a sudden, horrific epiphany exclaimed: “Maybe I’m the one worrying her because she’s worried about me worrying about her worrying about me!”
Celestia’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged for a time as her thoughts were momentarily consumed in a recursive loop of Pinkie’s fears. She shook herself like a dog emerging from a rainstorm and said: “No, Pinkie. I suspect Twilight has something else on her mind. Though I wonder, what is she doing down there?”
Pinkie looked at the door and made motion to move towards it before stopping herself and reciting something she’d apparently diligently memorized: “Pinkamena Diane Pie is not to enter the Laboratory unless invited by Twilight Sparkle as Twilight might be working with volatile or dangerous chemicals and chemical burns are no fun. Pinkie is not to touch any buttons while in the lab, even if she is sure she knows what they do. These rules are for Pinkie’s safety, and not because Twilight doesn’t love her. She promises. Yes, she Pinkie Promises. Really really. Okay, I cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. Ow.” She turned back to Celestia and smiled. “I don’t know! She hasn’t invited me down there for a while.”
Celestia nodded after a moment. “I see. Would you mind making sure the quiche comes out of the oven when the timer goes off?”
“Sure! What are you going to be doing?”
Celestia let the bubble come down with a sigh of relief. “I’m going to go see how Twilight is doing.”