//------------------------------// // Count the Steps of the Sun // Story: To Look at the Sun // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// Luna moves forward, and Twilight freezes, seeing the moon princess's questionable gift. “Wait a minute, didn’t you say Celestia hated sunflowers?” The younger sister lets out a polite hmph! On the steps to Celestia’s bed, bouquet just behind her head in this breeze-cooled bedroom: “Who said she hated them? I only said she severely disliked them.” Before Twilight can protest the semantics, Luna lightly taps Celestia on the horn, gently rolling her from the dream world. For it all began with Twilight's curiosity getting the better of her. “Why was there no sunflower competition, Princess Luna?” That catches the night princess off guard as Twilight finishes the checklist for her own coronation in a week’s time, both of them trotting through Canterlot Castle’s upper floors and halls minutes before the scheduled dawn. “The sunflower itself is rather bland compared to the indelible beauty of the royal rose or incomparable charm of the lovely tulip, Twilight.” “But it’s a sunflower! You know how ponies associate you with lavenders and how they help ponies sleep well, right? Surely, they would’ve made the connection: sunflower, Sun Princess, flower contests...” “Ah yes, you, Miss Berberis,” and Luna trots to a Saddle Arabian mare clothed with intricate designs-filled saddle and bit. Eyes a few crates she carries on her back. “I would like to have a bouquet of sunflowers, if you don’t mind.” The exchange is done with handsome pay, and Luna stuffs her muzzle in the bouquet, taking in their faint fragrance as yellow petals nuzzle her coat. After clearing her throat, “So you want to know about Celestia and sunflowers, do you not?” “Certainly, yes. I just thought, shouldn’t it be a simple matter?” Taking Luna’s lead, Twilight follows the lunar mare up a tower’s spiraling staircase. Rays of moonlight pierce through stained-glass windows, fashioning a soft rainbow spectacle to the top. A hint of lavender, and Twilight’s caffeine reserves dwindle, prompting her to yawn and stretch her wings. “Have you seen any sunflowers during your residence in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle?” It’s a quick check. Her ivory tower, the royal garden, other grassy places around Canterlot—and there were many thanks to all the fancy plants hanging around—“There were... no sunflowers during my stay here. Not as I remember now.” “And why do you think so? Is it not out of place that the sun princess herself has not hosted a sunflower judging contest in her honor?” “Ooh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there!” and Raven Inkwell backs up from her descent, bowing in respect for both princesses, and continues descending—“Wait, Princess Luna, are those...?” “Sunflowers, yes. You have a very keen eye for detail.” And the aide gulps, glancing up, towards the end of the tower. “...right.” Passing her by, the two princesses ascend the clockwise steps. “Tell me more about the sunflower, Twilight.” The official-princess-to-be rattles it off the top of her head: “Sunflowers—or at least the common sunflower, but many of its characteristics apply to other types of sunflowers—comprise the Helianthus genus. Unlike the tulip, sunflowers originated in Equestria proper, not from the northern lands of the pre-Equestrian tribes before they moved here as a result of the Windigos’ blizzard—“ “And there’s the first discrepancy. If they originated here, sunflowers should be everywhere in modern-day Equestria, no?” Twilight nods. “In fact, some species of sunflowers are invasive such as the swamp sunflower and may be treated as weeds—“ “Then why do you think sunflowers are rather uncommon these days?” Nothing comes to mind. Away from that, just a minute more or so and the two of them will finish climbing the staircase and reach the top, reach her room— “When we were filly royals-in-training, raised up by councilors and instructors, sunflowers used to be as abundant as lilacs, daisies, and daffodils. My sister did notice how sunflower buds would follow the sun to obtain as many nutrients as possible from the sun’s light; heliotropism, that is the scientific term. But, unlike with most other fillies, this curious characteristic scared the living daylights out of my sister.” “Scared her?” and Twilight’s voice drips with stupefaction. “Celestia? Scared of sunflowers?” “But it makes sense. Celestia’s solar magic is tied to the sun’s very nature. Thus, it is only sensible that sunflower buds and even mature sunflowers would not only face the sun but would also—“ here she chuckles “—face her as well.” And Twilight blushes, stifling her own chuckle as the end of their climb is in sight—solid flat floor. “So the sunflowers just faced her like she was the sun? That’s like thinking some painting’s eyes were following you around!” She laughs at her own image of sunflowers leaning to the left and to the right while Celestia gallops around, screaming like a little filly as she fled the adorable things. “It was indeed fun and games when we were young. It was a cause of joking and pranks from foals her age. I, too, joined in the fun. “But as she grew up and as our regents took more of our once free time, that fear grew into… severe dislike, as she put it. The sunflowers were not just following her around anymore. They were watching her, distracting her for many nefarious yet imaginary purposes she had concocted in her fear-addled mind.” Luna looks up. Nearing the roof, the top; half a minute to go. “When we began our rule together after defeating Discord, the sunflower was the most popular floral gift for the average pony to lift up to us. There was indeed the obvious sunflower-Celestia connection, but it had also become well known that sunflowers turned round to face her when she was nearby. No other flower did that to anyone, let alone to one of the princesses, so why not gift something as special as that to your dear leader? She did wear a most indomitable iron mask, so although she loathed the sunflowers on the inside, she kept up appearances. As far as anypony knew, Celestia graciously accepted sunflowers as much as all other floral gifts.” “And Celestia then made sure that, slowly and surely, she liked other flowers too, and everyone else would get the memo and start sending her other flowers. Right, Princess Luna?” The royal duo step off the stairway and trot down one more spacious hallway, hoofsteps echoing off the prized marble. At the end of it, a massive pair of doors emblazoned with a stylized sun. “Yes, though some radical devotees to my sister, when they themselves figured out what she thought, sought to burn the sunflowers simply because they were imperfect reflections of her majesty. Environmental iconoclasts, if I do say so myself… but now we’re here.” And Luna pulls on the handles with her magic, opening the golden doors. There, tucked in her on-a-pedestal bed and adorned with the sun and moon chiseled in her furniture’s design, Celestia sleeps, her pillow propping her head up as her nighttime throne. A silk canopy over her cooled face, an unburned fireplace on the side—for the will-be princess, mentally seeing Celestia writing letters on precious parchment, replying to her friendship lessons—a twilight breeze graces her to cool her head as well. Luna makes her move, stepping forward. “Greetings, sister!” she whispers in a familiar, happy whisper. Violet though never-groggy eyes flutter before her. “May I interest you in a pleasant surprise?” Framed by her moving mane of the dawn sky, Celestia fully opens her eyes, releasing herself into the realm of the living. “Sister, seeing you here every morning is always a pleasant surprise—“ Something stuck in her throat. Sunflowers, hanging by Luna’s head. The magic shifts colors and owners, Luna’s blue into Celestia’s gold. Without moving a hoof, Celestia turns the bouquet around in her magic, rotating the stems to analyze the object from every angle. No matter how she turns them, the flowers turn their heads to face her, to always look upon her sun-blessed face. “They are… flowers, yes, Lulu.” “Yes, dear Celie. These flowers are flowers indeed.” In the background, a yet unnoticed but lip-biting Twilight, struggling to contain her laughter but also watching herself in case Celestia screams and bashes the bouquet into non-existence. “They are truly wonderful. There is just one thing I would like to add to it so it shall become the best gift ever.” Something hopeful on Luna’s muzzle. “And what would that be?” Celestia answers with a silent smile. Her magic brightens, and it warms the flowers, now no longer cold. Against the room’s nightly cold, she feels the sunflowers’ increasing warmth, smells their warming smell, her stomach hungering for a grilled daisy sandwich. Her heart warms, and her smile, unbroken, though her eyes glisten like mad. Sunflowers still heating up, she turns to the fireplace, periphery vision swirling with stars past a nearby window—