Celestia hummed as she daintily plucked the stems of flowers. She planned to weave them into her flowing pink mane after she untangled a few pesky knots. They were simple breezielocks, the ones that one could expect when living in a state of constant adventure where little princesses could not stop to brush their manes. Oh, how Celestia longed to stand in front of a glistening smooth mirror with her old golden brush and stroke her mane to shining perfection. All the comforts of the castle that her and Luna left behind were now the stuff of Celestia's greatest wishes. When she laid her head down at night, it was thoughts of feather-stuffed pillows, sumptuous meals, and her dolls with their fine houses and lacy gowns danced in her dreams. Every day she woke, she found herself hugging the quilts they carried close to their chest and longing for the dolls she had left behind — why had she not thought to bring one with her? As foalish as her dolls were, and as much as she needed to grow up, she longed to hold them again and stroke their gorgeous ringlets.
Luna did not suffice. Her mane was short, she always squirmed, and anything that was deemed too fillyish was discarded. Celestia's little sister wanted to scramble and canter off to the latest rowdy romp. Luna was the poorest substitute for her dolls that Celestia could have had, and she longed for that kind of closeness to be in her life again.
However, there was always a flower or two where one knew a patch of sunshine could be found, if somepony knew where to look. So it was there that Celestia spent time alone — when she bothered to separate herself from her sister and best friend at all. She busied herself with picking flowers in the vast meadow the three of them had stopped at, barely north of the vast desert in many of the bedtime stories her parents used to tell her before they left. Now, Celestia had no crown to wear, which she pined for along with other small luxuries of her princesshood now left in an enchanted forest. Things like clean floors, shining windows, and orderly gardens with the most brilliant of flowers, so she wouldn't have to settle for anything. Constant comfort would replace even the thought of cold.
She always dreamed of places like that, where glass would separate her from the storms of the world and ponies would smile at her. She had longed to finally get a chance to meet ponies long before her and Luna left their Everfree home behind them to venture into the greater wilds. Celestia, the markless filly, wished not to be marked with dirt each time she slept. She did not want to have to scrub herself in a stream each morning at the exact moment she dragged herself from her blankets. Having to worry if water would be conjured in some places only added to her woes.
She wanted — privately, behind pleasant smiles or thoughtful glances at their only map — all the things that Luna hadn't cared for. The bright filly just wanted a light to guide her to a road in a world that didn't always match up with the map she held. Celestia wanted no more verdant valleys, dense forests, quiet ash-plains, and seas of grasslands. What Celestia wanted was for all the color in her life to be distilled into the great collections of jewelry that used to be the stuff of her daydreams.
Something was missing, it was always something missing, and never anything she could name. Celestia had a hollow feeling with a smile for a balm, and she only knew that she could not confide it in anypony — even if she had the words to speak it.
She made do in a world that had dulled light within her, or at least made that inner brightness into something blinding. It felt like she was at the end of a storybook with no conclusion at all, only to wake up at page one over and over again. All the change she was so hungry for never happened, not when she only ever woke up with her mane a little longer, that feeling a smidge stronger, and still herself.
But Celestia made do. For Luna.
She picked flowers and played pretend.
Princesses played pretend.
Princesses smiled.
Celestia was not entirely sure of what she was doing to herself, just that she must follow the map, go somewhere, and always look after Luna. Celestia must change, and this is what she would change into. She would tear every weed from herself to have that kind of final perfection, to be as pretty as the flowers she admired. Today, Celestia was a filly ripping out flowers in an empty meadow to make a futile effort in crafting a crown to reassure herself of something missing.
Something, and only that. To stick anything more after 'something' was to start a spiral simmering at the back of her mind, one devoid of the optimism she tried to exude for everypony else. There should be no clue as to what that something was, only that it might be there.
Princesses don't yank flowers from their roots.
Princesses don't get dirty.
Princesses always smile.
Princesses don't break their own rules.
Princesses put others above themselves.
Princesses are graceful and will defend their kingdoms.
Princesses have a kingdom to defend.
Princesses do not ask questions, they give answers.
Princesses tell themselves the rules over and over again.
Princesses follow those rules.
And there was a whole host of them; all of those rules were parable-like commandments she would assert about things like manners to help remind Luna that mud was very yucky. Or, she would bring one up about how Luna had to always stay no more than six steps away from Celestia when it was dark. Yes, it was mostly for Celestia's sake, since Luna had been gifted with their mother's night-touched eyes and dual vision — but she could never tell Luna that. The elder believed every one of her little orders in some way.
Luna didn't listen much, but not out of spite. Luna simply wasn't afraid...
...of something that she might not have been missing.
Luna wasn't the one who stood in meadows with their legs covered in dirt because she hurt flowers on purpose. Except, what lay in front of Celestia were not much of flowers anymore, as two magenta eyes could plainly see.
It was amid this uncharacteristic brooding that Celestia heard the sound of fluttering. At first, she thought of the lightest curtains on a warm summer day, but when she turned around, she was faced with anything but that. Flying her way were dozens of butterflies of all colors and sizes. Each beautiful bug was soaring into the vividly cloudless sky and back again. The cascading wave of pink mane was like a nest hosting many birds, and it had swept up all the flowers Celestia had picked with their flight.
From a short distance across a bed, now flower-less, Celestia could see the wave of a paw. It was certainly not Luna, who only ever had two ways to approach her sister. The first was to sneak up on her totally, and the second was to bound over to her elder sister as noisily as possible, screaming 'Tia!' and grinning. What Celestia saw was a snaggle-toothed grin peering above long stalks of green meadow-grass.
Celestia smiled only a little bit wider — after all, she was still a princess, she had to smile. At least this time, she knew it was real.
If only for a moment.