//------------------------------// // And Some Forward Planning On Her Sister’s Part // Story: It Takes A Princess // by Casketbase77 //------------------------------// Celestia made another nervous furlough down the beach. She told herself that she was being paranoid, but the assurance didn't stick. Her blouse was itchy and her sunhat caught an annoying amount of wind resistance. Still, she reached the bluff, turned on her heels, and paced back up the shoreline again. Celestia looped around the two vacant chairs without sparing a glance at the picnic blanket nor the supply of high-end sugarcube candies in the basket nearby. Were anypony around to see the legendarily gluttonous Queen Regent of the Sun ignore her junk food, they’d have concluded she’d lost her mind. Ironically (or maybe fittingly, Celestia was too frazzled to care right now) it was precisely because nopony was nearby that she was still pacing. It took a lot to form a knot in Celestia’s stomach, especially one big enough to choke out her infamous appetite. What did it was seeing her pompously pontificating sister vanish mid sentence. At least if C.. Cree.. Damn it all to Tartarus, why was she so bad with names?! Celestia kicked a small sand pile as she passed by. At least if her dimensional counterpart was still here, they could be talking to one another, reasoning whether what just happened was normal or not. But nope, Luna had fired up her horn with a flourish, proclaimed exactly what extremity of Order’s body she planned to kick, and was in the process of asking the other Celes- Creativa! That was it! Luna was about to ask the demure but hopeful Creativa where in the multiverse they’d all three be needing to go. That was when both of them blinked out of existence leaving Celestia stupefied in the sand. There hadn't been so much as a teleportation flash, but there was something else: A telltale aftertaste of Harmony magic. Maybe. It had disappeared from Celestia’s perception quickly. Perhaps intentionally muted by its caster. And given that Harmony magic was what parallel Discord employed to grease his plan’s wheels, Celestia had every cause to worry her sister and counterpart had been snared by some sort of trap. Worry, but not know what to do about it. Because realistically, what could she do? Twilight Sparkle would be no help; she had a kingdom to run now. Besides, what leads could Celestia possibly provide her? Point at the spot on the beach where the hijacked teleport had occurred? She knew the type of pony Twilight was. Even as a foal, Twilight had been high strung, prone to panicking, and overwhelmed by surprise disasters that had no apparent solution. There would be no help to be had there. Celestia’s pacing reached the bluff again, so she pivoted and headed back in the direction of the chairs. Might as well keep going in physical circles as well as mental ones. Discord seemed like a reasonable second choice. Then she gave it a second thought and remembered nothing about Discord could ever be called ‘reasonable.’ After he got done needling her for being so careless and then by some miracle cared to help her out, and by some bigger miracle managed to pick up some sort of cosmic trail that led to to Order... even if he cooperated all the way to that point, his magic would likely be as ineffective against Order as Creativa’s magic had been against Celestia herself. That is to say, due to their identical biorhythms, there’d be no effect. Discord was no good. Celestia was out of allies. The funny thing about sand crab burrows is that they’re imperceptibly small and almost impossible for a feverishly distracted queen regnant to notice. Not unless one of her hooves had the misfortune of stepping in one. Sprawled out in the hot sand, Celestia cursed loudly and impotently. At her throbbing ankle, at her own weak decision making, at everything. What had happened to her? Were 1000 years of steadfast leadership so quickly unspooled by six months of sipping cocktails and sunbathing like a sloth? Or, Celestia mused darkly, maybe she’d always been like this and nopony but her had ever peeked at her while she was plainclothed. Take away the regalia and crown. Give her this relentlessly itchy sunblouse and embarrassingly floppy hat, both of which she was presently and disgustedly pulling off over her head. Who was she then? A scattered, nervous old mare getting fat on sweets in her winter years? Celestia blew out heavily and sat up. Just minutes ago, Creativa had been curled up and sobbing in the exact same circumstance: alone, panicked, and crushed by longing for her younger sister’s safety. Celestia forced a smile at their synchronicity. Leaving her hat and blouse behind, Dowager Princess Celestia waded past the nearby break where the water met the sand. She flared her sweaty wings and the chilling surf soothed them. Wave after wave washed over her face and back. They cooled her choler, they iced away her fears. A few minutes later, Celestia was reclined in her beach chair again. Her hat was back on, but it felt less silly. Her blouse was buttoned up again, but the itch was gone. Also gone were twelve sugar cubes in the picnic basket and soon she’d bring that total up to a baker’s dozen. Heh. Baker’s dozen. That was an old term. Archaic, even. Celestia hadn’t used the phrase ‘baker’s dozen’ in at least hundred years, and she’d probably have forgotten it by now if it wasn’t a regular part of Luna’s antiquated vernacular. Celestia sighed as she levitated the thirteenth cube to her mouth. Speaking of Luna, Celestia’s wasn’t so worried about her younger sister’s safety anymore. Not one bit. Luna was a harlequin out of time while Celestia had been worn down by a millennium of bureaucratic work and public service hearings. Luna’s soul was fresh, which was why she’d been so restless in retirement and eager to head out at the first opportunity for adventure. Because that’s all this was, really. An afternoon adventure. Luna would conquer the enemy of the week and be back without any hiccups. Besides, if things did get rough, there was always The Failsafe. Celestia swallowed the last of her thirteenth sugarcube, trusting that the lump in her throat was from her snack, not her thoughts. Luna would be fine. One way or another. That was a certainty. What mood she would return in though... that was completely up in the air. Celestia had seen enough in her long life to know plenty of things could bend a pony painfully far without breaking her. And if Creativa’s behavior was any example, Order was a master of bending without breaking. And yet Luna… her spirit... her Failsafe... The stomach knot battled with Celestia’s appetite again. She reached for another sugarcube.