//------------------------------// // 3: "Tender Is The Night" // Story: Celestia XVII: The Broken Princess // by brokenimage321 //------------------------------// “In any case you mustn't confuse a single failure with a final defeat.” Philomena squawked in alarm as a sheaf of papers flew past her perch. “Shut up,” I muttered, as I threw another bunch of papers over my shoulder.  My collection of sheet music was small. Too small. Most of what I had was happy and upbeat. Tonight, I needed something hot and angry. Fire from heaven, bolts of lightning, volcanic eruptions. But all I had was soft jazz.  I ripped the last little packet out of the box, then scowled at it. “A Kiss To Build A Dream On,” by Joust Hoofstrong. It was dog-eared and worn, the margins almost black with chickenscratch, notes, and corrections. I growled to myself and threw it down. I picked up the empty box, turned it over, and shook it, and, when nothing more fell out, I turned and hurled it at the far wall.  Philomena shielded herself with her wing as the box flew past, then flew up to perch on the mantelpiece. I barely noticed, though; I was too busy yanking my trumpet out of its case and storming towards my balcony. I spun, kicked the doors open with my hind legs, then stomped out onto the white marble overlooking the valley below. I knew I shouldn’t play my horn up here, not at this time of night—but then again, I was Princess. And I was sick of not being good enough. I took a deep breath, put the trumpet to my lips, and blew. All that came out was a harsh, deafening bray, like some animal roaring in pain. No music in it at all--and yet, it still rang true.  It had only been this morning when Blueblood and Rarity came to see me in my office. They’d seen how far I’d fallen behind without them. They’d seen how terrible a Princess I was. Oh, they’d been nice enough not to say anything—not to my face, anyways. But they hadn’t had to. I could tell how disappointed they were in me. It wasn’t hard. They hadn’t even looked at me the rest of the afternoon. And now the two of them were out in Ponyville, celebrating my best friend’s birthday without me, leaving me here, all by myself, with nothing to dull the pain except my trumpet. And I couldn’t even do that right. A few ponies poked their heads out of windows to see what was going on. I just scowled down at them. Screw them. Screw them all. If they wanted peace and quiet, they could buy some damn earplugs.  At that moment, I heard a click, and a beam of light fell across my balcony. Someone had opened my bedroom door, without knocking. I scowled, then turned to see who it was—and, when I did, my scowl deepened.  “What do you want?” I snapped at her. “Just here, Barnabas,” Aunt Luna said, gesturing to the end table next to my overstuffed armchair. The old stallion beside her, with a covered silver tray balanced on his back, eyed the table uncertainly; it was already piled high with old drink cups, hayburger wrappers, dirty towels, and stacks of official-looking papers. Luna however, just lit her horn, and, in seconds, the table cleared itself: the laundry soared through the air and landed in my hamper, the papers re-folded and stacked themselves, and the garbage wadded itself up into tiny balls before rolling discreetly away. The stallion set his tray down, bowed, and backed out of the room.  “Good evening, Celestia,” Aunt Luna said, avoiding my gaze. “I was hoping that we could have a little chat.”  “I’m busy,” I said, waving my trumpet vaguely at her.  “Even so,” she said.  Luna sat—but, rather than taking my armchair, as she always had, she pulled up my ottoman and sat on that. She lifted the cover on the tray, revealing a tea service, complete with steaming teapot and a small plate filled with old-fashioned cookies. She quietly picked up the teapot and filled both teacups with golden-brown liquid, then started to add the sugar and cream.  “Come sit, please,” she added, almost off-handedly.  For a split second, I considered hurling my trumpet straight at her stupid face—but, just as quickly, I decided against it. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, and, more importantly, I liked my trumpet. I sighed irritably, but walked inside, tossed my trumpet on my bed, and sat in my armchair with a huff.  Luna silently offered me a small saucer, a teacup and a couple cookies already perched on it, and I took it. I sipped at the tea—it was only polite, after all—then peered down at it. I was still very much a coffee mare, but Luna had made me try a few cups of tea over the years. This one was chamomile—supposed to be calming.  I tried to get angry at her—how dare she try to make me calm down at a time like this?—but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. Instead, I nibbled at one of the cookies.  We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking our tea and eating our cookies, before Luna shifted her weight on my ottoman.  “I spoke with Prince Blueblood and Lady Rarity,” she said.  “Oh yeah?” I spat. “They tell you what a terrible job I’m doing?” “After a fashion,” she admitted.  I snarled, but before I could say anything, she spoke again. “He is worried that you are falling behind your workload without his help,” she said. “That, perhaps, you should hire additional staff to help share the burden before your position becomes untenable.” I opened my mouth to reply, but Luna kept talking. “However nearsighted his analysis, you must admit that he has reason for concern,” she said. “After all, a great deal has happened since he left on his honeymoon.” I snorted. “That’s putting it mildly,” I said.  “Indeed,” she replied. “The collapse of the Galloping Gorge rail bridge, the unexpected magical surges in the Everfree Forest, the inexplicable spoilage of thousands of bits of relief supplies—not to mention a dozen other things that all require attention.” She took a sip of her tea. “In any case,” she continued, “I attempted to disabuse our dear Blueblood of the notion that the influx of reports on your desk was as a result of laziness on your part… though, I am not entirely certain how effective an effort that was,” she added.  I nodded, then took a deep breath.  “So,” I said carefully, “You don’t agree with him? You… you don’t think I’m a bad Princess?” For a long moment, Luna didn’t answer. I risked a careful glance upward, only to find her staring back at me carefully. As soon as I met her gaze, I looked down again.  “It’s okay,” I mumbled into my tea. “You don’t have to say it, if you don’t want to.” Luna blinked, then set down her tea and leaned closer.  “No no no,” she said kindly, “you must not talk like that, Celestia. We should do our best to never  hold ourselves responsible for things outside of our control. And, when unexpected events occur, we do the best we can, and we must not blame ourselves if circumstances make demands that are too great for us to bear.” She touched me on the hoof. “Do you understand my meaning?” I smiled weakly, then looked up at her. “Is that from another one of Dr. Rose’s books?” I asked.  Luna paused, then chuckled to herself. “Quite right, Celestia. That does sound like something she would say...” I nodded, and Luna smiled and shook her head slowly.  “But no,” she continued, “that is a sentiment of my own devising. No offense meant towards dear Dr. Rose, of course. She has helped me a great deal more than I ever would have thought possible,” she added, half to herself. “Her talking cures are simply marvelous.”  “It’s called therapy, Auntie,” I muttered.  “My apologies,” she replied. “I had forgotten. In either case, she has been immensely helpful, at least in my case…” She looked over the top of her glasses at me. Reflexively, I looked away. We stayed like that for a long, aching moment that dripped with implication and guilt. Luna had been trying to get me to see Dr. Winter Rose for weeks now. Luna had started seeing her on her own a couple years ago, and, to hear her tell it, she was a miracle worker. Dr. Rose had helped her work through the guilt and anger she had left over from Nightmare Moon, and had taught her a few tricks to keep her demons at bay when they reared their ugly head. But... I bit my lip. I’d seen Dr. Rose once already, in the hospital, and she’d talked to me a little, but I still hated the idea of seeing her. I already rehashed my mistakes every night after I fell asleep; I wasn’t exactly looking forward to doing it again after I woke up. And yet, Luna swore by her shrink. Our shrink, a part of me thought guiltily.  “In any case,” Luna said suddenly, “I am sure that she has room in her schedule for you, if you wish it. I think you may find her company quite enjoyable. I know dear Twilight did, at any rate.” She paused, then shot me another hooded glance. She took a deep breath, straightened up a little, and, in a tone of voice that she meant to be casual, she said: “Speaking of… how are you and she getting along? I have not seen Twilight around the Palace for some time.” “Since the wedding,” I murmured, involuntarily. Luna’s ears perked up at my response, but I bit my lip. My mind raced— “Her birthday’s coming up,” I said, “and she’s having her party here at the Palace.” She nodded. “Her debutante ball,” she said.  “Her eighteenth,” I corrected.  This had been the debate for months. Luna had wanted to have a proper debutante ball—or, as she’d been calling it, despite our protests, Twilight’s coming-out. It was an old tradition from Luna’s time, and marked the moment a mare of quality entered Canterlot society as an adult. I had wanted to just have a normal birthday party for her, but Luna had insisted that she, as a relative unknown, needed the formal introduction to the bureaucrats and politicians that she would, someday, have to work with. But, before our disagreement could explode into a full-blown argument, Twilight showed up and forged a compromise: we would hold her party on her birthday itself, roll it together with the Spring Garden Party, and kill several birds with one stone. Seems like her work in Friendship Studies was finally paying off--at least in one respect.   (As part of the agreement, we’d made the choice that Twilight’s Family birthday party would be held the week after the Spring Garden Party, while her Friend party would be held a few days before—like, for example, today. The fresh reminder made me squirm.)    “S-so I’ll be seeing her soon,” I continued. “And we’ve already planned to spend most of the night catching up. So we’ll be okay, I think.” Luna nodded slowly, but I could tell that she wasn’t satisfied.  “That is all well and good,” she said carefully, “but that was not my question.” She lit her horn, picked up a silver spoon, and stirred her tea. “I have heard rumors of an argument—” At that moment I let loose an enormous—and completely fake—yawn. I even stretched for good measure.  “Thanks for the tea, Auntie,” I said, “really. But it’s getting late, and I need to get to bed.” I gave a fake little chuckle. “After all, like dear ol’ Blueblood probably told you—I have lots to do in the morning!” Aunt Luna opened her mouth, then closed it. A battle was going on behind those eyes of hers—the battle between her need to be proper, and her need to know what, exactly, was going on between Twilight and I. A few moments later, though, and it was clear that propriety was going to carry the day.  She bit her lip and lowered her gaze slightly. “Very well, then,” Luna said, her voice strained. “Perhaps we shall speak of this more in the morning…” “Of course,” I said, making a little bow. “Now, don’t let me keep you…” I added, gesturing at the door. I stood and plodded dramatically to my bed, trying to hide my smirk.  Luna’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she stood, set her teacup on the tray, then walked from the room. She opened the door and stepped out, but before she closed it, she turned back to look at me. I had already climbed into my bed, and pulled the covers up to my chin. She watched for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, then quietly closed the door.  For a half-second, I almost laughed. I had won. Oh, sure, she probably did want to make me feel better—and she had helped, as much as I hated to admit it. But that wasn’t the only reason she had come. She wanted to help--but  what she wanted more was gossip. And, despite her best efforts, she hadn’t gotten a thing out of me.  And yet… Twilight’s face swam into focus above me, her expression contorted in a mask of disdain and anger.  I gulped, and my gut twisted into a knot.  Luna knows.