//------------------------------//
// 01: Bygone Antiquities 
// Story: Gilded Lilies 
// by Overlord Pony 
//------------------------------//

The rising sun is one of Celestia's miracles, according to Mother. Today, the soft pinks and oranges play across the distant clouds, and the birds sing sunrise hymns from their dew-soaked homes. As every morning, I stand on my bedroom balcony, forelegs resting on the teary barrier between myself and the valley far, far below. 

We purchased this house because of the sunrise view, yet, in nearly fifteen years of marriage, I only once saw my husband rise to see it, and even then only to tell me to draw the curtains. My morning routine is one of many reasons as to why we no longer share a bed, nor, even, a room; however, to our colleagues and friends, it is the only reason we are permitted to share. To allude to any deeper imperfection than incompatible waking hours is to incite whispers about the deep unhappiness between us: an abyss that mustn't be known by anypony but Fancy and myself. 

I sigh, hoping the melancholy within my heart will leave with the sound. When it does not, I glance toward my maid who has been dutifully holding a silver tray with my morning tea in her left hoof for the last several minutes. 

"Thank you, Miss Ivory," I say to her as I lift the antique cup and saucer from the tray in my yellow magical aura. Her posture changes subtly as part of the burden is taken from her outstretched hoof, and she moves her grounded hooves in a manner so negligible that most ponies would fail to perceive it. 

"You're welcome, Missus," she says. 

I return my gaze to the sunrise scene and take a sip of tea. Its jasmine scent is immediately overtaken by the bitter sting of the herbal medley on my tongue—so unsweet that a foal may mistake it as poison. 

"Is the tea to your liking, Missus?" Ivory asks. 

"Exquisite as always," I say to her, taking a long sip of my drink that noble company would have found impolite. I balance the antique china on the marble balustrade, yet still allow my magic to wrap around the tableware. Far below, vultures soar, the light tinting their dark feathers pink. 

My ears react to the quiet reshuffling of hooves from Ivory, a typically silent mare whose company— or lack thereof —I have always been content to have. 

"You seem..." Ivory's words assault the air, then taper off as if the mere mention of me was so impolite that it might choke her, "more pensive than usual, Missus." 

Pensive.

Celestia's sun once rose in minutes, with the moon settling in the far sky just as swiftly; however, Twilight's sunrise graced the land for hours, as though the Princess Herself savored the colors of the sky on a new day, causing the process to appear as pensive as I. 

"I-I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn!" Ivory's words trip over each other as she says them all in one breath, reminding me that I have been ruminating longer than is polite. 

I turn toward her, relinquishing the china balanced so delicately on the balcony railing from my magic. I force my lips into the polite smile of a breezy noble as I lay eyes on the blonde-coated mare. 

"Miss Ivory," I say in my most comforting tone, "you are well within your boundaries to speak if you find my behavior abnormal. It is honorable to be worried for your Lady." Ivory smiles and exhales loudly enough for me to hear. The silver platter still balancing on her hoof wavers as she relaxes. I say, "I am simply thinking on how to word my vows for the renewal ceremony." 

Ivory's smile turns to a grin, showing off her impeccable teeth. Her eyelids wrinkle around the edges of her pink eyes and she says, "I would love to have what you have, Missus!" 

I giggle, raising a hoof to my lips, and nod— an ingrained reaction. Ivory's eyes close, her teeth still showing as her back foot raises from the marble. 

"You will have a happy relationship one day, Miss Ivory." The smile is still gracing my face. She nods, then opens her eyes. They go wide. 

"Oh, Missus!" she says, gesturing behind me with the hoof holding the platter. I look toward the sun once more. There appears to be no issue, although Ivory's extreme reaction was clearly regarding some problem. 

"Your cup..." Her voice trails like it did before. I glance down. The antique dish set is missing from its place on the balustrade, apparently having met its demise somewhere in the valley down below. 

The smile wavers for a split moment before I look back to Ivory and say, "It is of no consequence-- there are other cups." 

Her eyebrows draw down as her expression lapses from something containing joy to the expression I am most familiar with—the one containing nothing at all. Such a visceral reaction to losing china.