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// The Price Of Fame 
// Story: The Price Of Fame 
// by FabulousDivaRarity 
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To view celebrity status from the outside is a normal thing. 

Ponies flock to fawn over those who are more famed than themselves, be they writers or actors or athletes or royalty. They always believe that those who are endowed with fame or fortune and status are so foreign from themselves. They put those who possess it on a pedestal, believing them gods, and scrutinizing their every move, or trying to emulate them.

But to view it from the inside is something else entirely.

I have watched both of my children be warmed and burned by fame’s spotlight. Their everyday activities captured on cameras, their personal lives on the front page, the world wanting to be like them, and completely disregarding the fact that they too are Equine, just like anypony else.

It frustrates me greatly, this status of theirs. Not because of the privileges they get or the titles they bear or any of that. Rather, I cannot stand the fact that my children are expected by so many to be superheroes. There is an expectation on them that they should have the answers to everything, that they should be able to solve any problem, that they have to look or act a certain way because of the titles they bear. It frustrates me to no end to see the burden that has now been heaped upon their shoulders. They are constantly scrutinized, stopped in the middle of their every day activities for advice or autographs or meetings, and have been denied pretty much any forms of privacy.

This was not what I wanted for my children. Of course I am proud of all of the achievements they have made, the titles they have earned, the fact that they have saved our world on countless occasions, and that they are so well respected. I don’t know any mother who wouldn’t be. But to see them constantly feeling the need to be perfect, to not be able to express their feelings for fear of them ending up on the front page of the paper, to have no privacy in their lives, is not at all what I hoped they would have.

I can see the weight of these expectations in their eyes sometimes. There will be bags beneath their eyes when they didn’t sleep because they had to hold a press conference about some incident that will be in the paper the next morning, or the upset they feel when the press has posted an incident that happened with them out of context. I look at them, see that, and feel my heart break, because they know what they’re missing. They were like everypony else once, with privacy and freedom to express their emotions without fear who could make mistakes freely and not be punished for it.

There have been nights when I have gone to bed and I have woken up to one of my children shaking me, tears running down their faces because the pressure is too much and they’re at their breaking point, long after they have moved out of the house. Every time they come, I make them some tea, and we’ll sit on the couch in the living room together while I hold them and do my best to empathize with them. When the tea is gone, I tuck them into their beds in their old rooms, stroke their manes, and sing them the lullaby that I used to sing them when they were little and had nightmares. Every time, it puts them right to sleep.

I have never questioned why they come to me when they could have very well gone to their friends or other loved ones. I already know the answer. It is because I am their safe place. They know they can come to me with their sorrow or their anger or their hurt or upset and never be judged. They can, for a moment, be relieved of their social status, because they know that to me, they will always be my babies, and nothing else. I am the small retreat they can come to when they want to get away from it all, and just have a normal life for a while, and I cherish that.

Sometimes the light of their fame extends to me. Somepony will recognize me as being their mother. They’ll say I must be so proud to have raised such amazing children. Sometimes I can’t help but feel that those words are sort of a back-hoofed compliment. My children were amazing before they ever became famous, so of course I’m proud. Those ponies see the mare and stallion who have helped save Equestria time and again. They don’t see what I see.

When I look at my son, I see the foal who bravely fought for his life the first two and a half months after he entered the world. I see the colt who was scared of monsters under the bed but learned to overcome his fear. I see the teenager who wanted to hang out with his friends and go on dates with mares. I see the stallion who is preparing to become a father.

When I look at my daughter, I see the foal who first looked at me with such curiosity, and the world in much the same fashion. I see the filly who loved to snuggle up with me for story time every night. I see the teenager who spent hours studying away for a test because she was afraid to fail it. I see the mare who is building friendships to last a lifetime.

My children were all these things before they were ever famous, and still are. Ponies like to believe that they came into the world fully formed, set to be saviors of Equestria, but that just isn’t true. They were babies who fussed and kept me up all night, children who needed reassurance and scraped knees kissed, teenagers who wanted nothing to do with me, and adults who are still figuring out their way in the world. I only wish the rest of Equestria could see them like I do. They are amazing, yes, but not just because of what they’ve done or who they are. They’re amazing because of everything they are and everything they’re not, because of the lessons they’ve learned, the mistakes they’ve made, and the lives they have lived. They are amazing because they are Equine just like the rest of us, and managed to do some good along the way.

The rest of the world will always see them as famous. I can’t help that. But to me, they will always be my children. I will always love them and support them. They will always be able to come to me with whatever problems they have and know that I will listen without judgement. My hooves will always be there to hold them and my heart will always belong to them. 

The rest of the world will always see them as famous, true, but I will always be there to remind them that they are so much more than that.