//------------------------------// // Weary of Time // Story: To Look at the Sun // by Comma Typer //------------------------------// As glimmers of chilly moonlight grace the newly-renovated Castle of the Two Sisters, a bearded old wizard leads an alicorn filly into a royal garden. A haven of greenery with shrubs everywhere, blooming with berries and flowers (and many flowers do lay here), some even sprouting from bonsai on their fancy pots—Mage Meadowbrook called them that, saying they hail from Mistmane’s homeland. Their leaves and petals shine in the light of the moon as knocks and bangs resonate across the castle, workers preparing the grand edifice for the young alicorns’ years-ahead coronation and rule. The filly laughs and runs around: lots of pretty plants to look at! Touches the leaves of each one and speaking out their differences, admiring the thin yet sturdy bark of the tiny trees, licking the petals of a delicious daisy— “Stop it, you foal! Those flowers were hoof-picked to showcase Equestria’s grandeur! They are not snacks!” and Star Swirl smacks himself on the forehead, tipping his hat backwards. “When your mother told me you’d eat fodder straight from the ground, I assumed she was being metaphorical.” She stiffens at the mention of Mother. “If I eat enough apples from the ground—“ “No, your parents will not come back from the dead if you do that. Now tell me, have you seen everything in this gar—” She freezes. Head raised, stock still, unaware of Star Swirl’s approaching hoofsteps. “Ah. Your greatest fear, I presume?” And he smirks at the monsters she beholds. Terror floods her veins, heart pumps too fast, mane and tail stop in alarm as they watch her— “Agh!” And she clings onto Star Swirl’s robe for protection, a blanket to hide her from those things, the bogeymares straight out of her evil dreams. “I only see sunflowers, Celestia.” A condescending snicker as he scratches his beard, appearing wise in his mirth. “You should be proud. The average pony does not possess such a power, the power to be the sun to these sunflowers.” “B-but they’re creepy!” She pulls the robe tighter, blocking out her vision. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me! “They might get me, they might eat me, and I can’t—“ “Wait.” And she stops. Loosens her grip on the robe for Star Swirl will save the day. Sees nothing but the stars and crescents of his robe, ears tickled by the jingling of its bells. “This is an opportunity for an object lesson. See, it’s been a week since you’ve been designated to the throne—not any mere fiefdom’s throne, but the throne over all thrones, the dual throne of Equestria. Am I right?” Celestia answers with a slow, scared nod. “Then why are you afraid of sunflowers?” And she shivers under his robe of comfort. “B-because they’re… th-they watch me! Flowers don’t watch me! And ponies think I’m weird because they watch me!” “Ponies treat you like royalty.” “But the flowers won’t stop watching me!” “But ponies will.” That gets Celestia smiling a little, to stop shivering. “Yeah! Like… they were happy when I raise the sun! And when Lulu lowers the moon!” “Yes, but when you’ll really become princesses, you’ll do more than just raise the sun and lower the moon.” And he takes a step closer to the flowers. A step away from Celestia, the robe of safety and protection slipping from her hooves and her magic. “S-Star Swirl?! N-no! Don’t take me to the baddies!” and she holds on, unknowingly dragging herself to certain doom. “There are things more worthy of fear than these pathetic sunflowers!” Another step closer, another scared squeal from the filly. “You had to start your royal upbringing ahead of schedule because jealous pretenders tried to kill you two and nicked your mother and father instead!” “Mommy, daddy?!” Choking in her throat, eyes darting everywhere for two missing ponies, if they were hiding behind the bushes or some of the small trees—“Are mommy and daddy—?“ “Anyway, there are cruel souls out there willing to kill foals for their own gain... but beyond assassins and would-be murderers, there is the weighty responsibility you and your sister shall hold.” Another step closer on the cobblestone, towards the sunflowers. They watch, they follow, ignorant of her whimpering and begging. “Take me away, S-Star Swirl! As future princess, I-I command you! They might... they might eat me!” “Sunflowers won’t eat you!” and he tugs the robe towards the yellow petals of death, pulling the scared filly by sheer magic strength. “But something greater will eat your soul if you are careless: hundreds of thousands of ponies out there, watching your every move—and why do they watch you? Just as the sun provides nourishment and light to these flowers and just as a mother is nourishment and light to her children, so shall you be to your subjects who shall depend on you for nourishment, light, guidance—“ “But ponies aren’t sunflowers! Th-they won’t eat me!” Only inches away from stems furnishing devastation, biding their time until their target is at its nearest. Sunflowers, drooping to face Celestia, but now their faces are the muzzles and mouths and eyes of her subjects, depending on her, counting on her— “But ponies will look up to you and Luna all the same, and that is not to mention bad actors. You are very fortunate that those miscreants did not kill you. Still, they wanted to kill you. They won’t be the last ones, surely. Not a few are those who will try to manipulate you, to try to kill you for nothing more than the power you hold by mere accident. “If you are not ready for that, young one...” The sunflowers glow in his gray magic, floating from the soil, grisly roots exposed. They fly at her. “Agh!” Their angry little non-existent faces, gunning for her. Magic firing, horn firing everywhere, magic rays bouncing off, to burn, to sizzle, to annihilate, remove the threat, protect her, keep her safe, to stay alive, running, galloping, adrenaline crushing her, distant hoofsteps of guards coming to rescue her— A whooshing wing over her. “Celie!” And Luna hugs her. That blue face of grace. “Wh-what happened?! Why are there... sunflowers burning everywhere?” Celestia opens her eyes, smells the fire and hears ponies spraying water over the flames, but in her tears, she doesn’t hear Star Swirl’s chastisement, of teaching her not to be afraid, of having to improve her magic reflexes. Hears only the soft words of her sister, of comfort, just like her mother, just like her own voice: “Don’t worry, Celie. I got—“ “—your back on this, right, dear sister?” And at the top of the tower though not yet at the balcony, Celestia, in her full-grown regal form, dons her royal gold crown and peytral, full-blown dawn-sky mane and tail flowing by wind not there. “You’ve always got my back,” she answers her sister. And Luna, her appearance just like the night sky but with a touch of the imperial in her own black regalia, flaps her wings and turns on her magic, touching the curtains from afar. “Then let’s inaugurate this kingdom together.” The two sisters trot past the tower’s curtains, entering the balcony and the too-long night-into-twilight outside. They are blasted by the applause of the crowd far below, raising their heads towards their ruler-saviors, illuminated by a bevy of lanterns and torches by too few tents for those camping out in Equestria’s new capital of Everfree, all out there for the few days since Discord’s defeat and liberation from decades of chaotic destruction. When the speech of freedom is said and done, the princesses lift their bodies up, flying without flapping their wings, and their horns glow to end the night, lowering the moon and lifting the sun to herald a glorious morning, all to the praise and joyous stomps of the populace. Luna gives her sister a tug on the withers. “What do you have planned for the morning? I, for one, shall enjoy the ‘late night’ festivities for a little longer.” Celestia can’t help but laugh at her festive sibling. “The mead hall?” “Why, you know me so well!” and Luna wraps her closer for a wing hug. “Which leaves you with collecting everypony’s gifts for us, right?” “Right, dear sister.” And the two fly their separate ways, Luna towards the castle’s mead hall to quaff ale with her citizens while Celestia swoops down to an open public square where everypony gathers, landing on a huge pedestal guarded by soldiers whose armors sparkle under the sun. The rambunctious assembly quickly form themselves into as much of an orderly line as possible. Despite the guards’ demands for formality, more than a few ponies manage to throw flowers and bouquets at their beloved eminence. Most of them are sunflowers. Barely a lavender in sight, though her heart warms for each of those sleepy little plants. Keep a smile, a simple smile despite the number of weird and disgusting sunflowers entering her life. No need to remember that one time Discord chased her down a maze with nothing but sunflowers growing out of the hedges and watching her all the time like “some Panopticon’s security cameras,” whatever the draconequus meant by— “Oh, look! It moves! The heads follow her around!” “Why, yes! The sunflowers turn to look at her wherever she goes! Could it be—?” “Of course! She is more than fit to lead this mighty kingdom, so say the sunflowers—and the skies!” Celestia briskly moves on to the rest of the gifts, to those more worthy of her time and less likely to stress her out by their mere presence: statuettes and commemorative plates, paintings and poems, songs and dance... A break after an hour of gifts, so she retires from the now organized crowd into the sky, flying close to the castle’s wall and then perching on top of another tower—an observatory, some sleeping astronomer’s hiding place—and she knows what to say to the pony just now perching beside her: “Are you drunk yet?” Luna titters, flapping her wings in place. “Augh, no! What makes you think that, Celie?” “That bitter breath of yours?” “’Tis but a flesh wound on my sobriety!” Then, eyeing her, “Besides, I smell a bit of... hah, what did they give you at first?” An uneasy sigh. Looks to the ponies below, many already watching the alicorns sit up there like eagles. “A few sunflowers.” “Hmph. They still do not know that you hate them to the core, do they?” “Not especially after they finally noticed the sunflowers’... well, interesting behavior when they’re around me.” Luna resists the urge to use the Royal Canterlot Voice in her laughter. “Haven’t burned any of them yet?” “No. That would be impolite.” And Luna lightly punches her on the withers, laughing all the way and catching stray looks from below. With lowered voice, “Oh, come on! That’d be a spectacle! See it all burn down... good for a fireplace while you read some scrolls, right?” Celestia replies with a smile, rubbing the little pain on her back. Her sister is certainly stronger than she looks— —yet the fight went in Celestia’s favor, and Luna’s corrupted face was etched on the moon for all to see. The advisers and councilors told her to carry on, to keep calm. There were many ponies asking for an explanation, wondering what happened to the now delayed inaugural Summer Sun Celebration to celebrate a century of peace after Discord’s imprisonment—with the Winter Moon Fair originally slated for six months after that. Of course, her advisors shut that idea down once they discovered what happened with Nightmare Moon. She intended to extol her sister, to not leave her out, with the Celebration speech. Now, it was sole self-idolatry mandated by the masses, though she does not fail to mention Luna as a true sister over the decades right to the bitter end. While a few wept, many cheered. Shouts of traitor and backstabber erupted at the first mention of Luna’s name before guards quieted the rabble. After the speech and Celestia ushering in the year’s longest day, they showered the lone monarch with gifts. Many flowers found their way into her sight—roses, lilies, tulips, and daisies, along with more exotic varieties such as precious amaryllises and rare campions. But sunflowers kept cropping up. Soon, an army of happy yellow sunshines faced her wherever she went, much to the audience’s amazement and fawning over. As peaceful soldiers, they stood, saluting the solar mare. One pony was sent to the dungeon for stomping on some lavenders in the name of Princess Celestia. “She shouldn’t have ruled at all!” mumbled a subject as the criminal was hauled to his prison, so Celestia overheard. “Look at how many ponies go to Princess Celestia’s court compared to that reprobate! Most of the nocturnals didn’t even bother going to her court!” “Nightlife is just debauchery these days,” declared another. “Drinking, partying in taverns to revel in hedonism all night long... Luna went around like a pagan sensualist! We can’t have a sick pleasure seeker represent us! What we need is a statesmare!” “If Celestia can handle both sun and moon, why do we need this Nightmare Moon anyway?” piped in one more. “She should be vilified, denounced everywhere! Turning against her own sister just because she was jealous of all the attention she got! Ssurely, Celestia was patient with her to the very end, and yet—!” Celestia’s smile remained. Her smile remains as she looks down a cliff not too far from Canterlot. All she said was that she’d fly around, to clear her head from all the chaos of the past six hours. No one followed her. No one knew she went here. She dives down the cliff, wind attacking her being, carrying her down by the wings like a weightless leaf streaming down a river, wings pulling her weight as she pulls a hefty wagon behind her, a wagon filled with nothing but sunflowers. Alone in the ravine, just her and the wagon, deep in with the rocks and the crags, buffeted by the howling of dry wind. None, not even a sharp-eyed griffon, to see her as she creeps closer to a cave where she can conceal herself. She looks at the sunflowers she’s pushed against the cragged cracks of stone walls. Turns on her horn to feel the sunflowers in her magic grip—the petals, their soft and innocent petals, unaware of the boiling blood racing through her wrathful veins, fueling her hot tears. The face of ignorance. The face of murder, of power-hungry killers and manipulators. The face of her sister’s death. The heavy face of all who look up to her. Tears glisten as a great conflagration whisks the cart of faces away, away from her burning sight, her body warmed by floral devastation as the sunflowers crackle under merciless flames, their petals curling and charring, too much sun in their eyes— Sister... Her head shoots up, ears perking, falling in the half-remembered daydream— “Sister?” And Celestia turns to Luna who bade Twilight a goodbye. Something burning— “You decided to burn the logs,” and Luna gestures to the fireplace. “Not the flowers, most fortunately, else that might have done a number on Twilight, knowing how highly she sees you.” A bar floats across the door’s handles, locking the sisters inside. “Is something the matter, Celie?” There, the sunflowers lie on her nightstand. Looking innocently, looking at her innocently, facing her as logs crackle under the fire, their yellows shining under the sun. With a nod, Luna levitates the bouquet in her magic grip, bringing it closer to her sister. The flowers then turn around to face their pony sun. “It has to do with this, is it not?” A heavy sigh, carrying a millennium’s worth of weight. Her heavy head lowers as if cracking under a yoke. “I haven’t seen these for almost five years, save for the rare painting...” “And you were thinking of burning them?” She does not answer that. Celestia clenches her jaw, holds the sunflowers in her grip. Stares at their eyeless faces. And they stare back, unknowing and innocent. Nothing runs through their non-existent minds, only a bio-magical response to a solar anomaly, the sun’s essence in something else—in someone—other than the sun. The flowers do not recognize this. They just look, eager for light. “You... you have done no evil, little ones.” Without looking, she magically opens a cabinet to take out a vase and water can, lifting the flowers from the bouquet. How the water shines under the sun as they pour into the vase and fill the stems—!