//------------------------------// // Celeste's Very Pointy Horn // Story: Honeymoon Phase // by UnknownError //------------------------------// “I’m sorry, Princess. The kitchen is mostly occupied with pies to stop the siege.” Sergeant Nocturne dipped his head apologetically. “Equestria Daily’s siege tower is nearly at the front gate.” Celestia blinked and regarded an empty kitchen foyer. There was a large metal bowl with a single wooden spoon on a countertop, and hoofprints in spilled flour on the floor. The double doors beyond blazed with heat from massive ovens; muffled whinnies and shouts echoed through the swinging doors. An earth pony in a torn chef’s hat burst through the doors dragging a cart stacked with pies by his withers. He did not seem to notice the Princess standing in the middle of the kitchen. He moved nimbly around her and vanished through another swing door. Celestia numbly watched it slowly shut with the scent of cherry pies in her nose. It only reminded her of last night’s cocktails. The alicorn screwed her eyes shut and snorted. Another chef skidded through the foyer with pies balanced on her extended wings. “Reinforce the Light Brigade!” a voice brayed from the kitchen. Ramparts, one of the sous chefs, followed the pegasus out the doors, still shouting at her with a visible vein in one eye. “Those stupid, hornheaded idiots tried to charge—” Jungle Trek coughed into a hoof. Ramparts glanced to the side and spotted the group. “Oh, hello Princess.” The earth pony’s veiny eye wandered over them in a squint. “Kitchen’s closed, apologies. Your tin-cans keep missing.” Ramparts was an oddity in the kitchens. He was descended from a long line of guards, and named by his parents like many foals in a blind hope that he would gain a mark to match his epithet. He did not; his cutie mark was a whisk. But the attitude and upbringing of a guard could never be fully erased, and Ramparts ended up at the castle anyway. Celestia waved her wing vaguely back at where she thought her husband was standing. “Perhaps you have heard the news?” she ventured with a dry rasp. “This is your new Prince.” “For a day,” Prince Jungle Trek added cheerfully. “For breakfast,” Celestia amended. “Until Raven and Kibbutz get here.” “Oh, right.” Celestia could hear Rampart’s dismissive nod. She opened her eyes again. Rampart’s naturally brown fur was mostly as white as her own. The stallion’s nod caused a cloud of flour to drift down to the floor. “Well,” Ramparts sighed, “what can I make?” Jungle Trek looked to Celestia, who did not respond, then looked back to Ramparts. “I’d really like some pancakes—” “That wasn’t a question for you,” Ramparts nickered. He gave Celestia a rueful eye. “Or you, Princess. What can I make?” The stallion turned and shuffled through cabinets. “Kitchen’s running low on supplies.” Another mare burst out of the kitchen with more pies on a bouncing cart. Celestia watched her leave. I should just steal one. They can’t stop me. Her stomach twisted in disgust at the smell of raspberries. “Do you have eggs?” Celestia said aloud. “Yeah,” Ramparts grumbled from within a cabinet. Several pots and pans rolled out by his flank. “But the flour is rationed for—” “Eggs. Scrambled.” Nocturne, Long Spear, and Prince Jungle Trek looked up to the alicorn. Ramparts slowly withdrew his head. “Uh, Princess?” “Scrambled eggs,” Celestia repeated. Ramparts blinked, not understanding. “Eggs are an ingredient.” “Eggs are a meal,” Celestia corrected. “For, uh, not-ponies,” Nocturne said warily. He licked at his fangs. “Scrambled eggs,” Celestia said with finality. She stumbled through the kitchen foyer, glancing over the shelves and countertops. In the corner, the leftover bread and appetizers from the Grand Galloping Gala were stacked on a countertop for disposal. Celestia selected a perfectly intact Prench baguette, albeit doubtlessly stale. “Butter,” Celestia ground out. She turned back to the other four ponies as she tucked the baguette under a wing. Ramparts silently placed a stick of butter in a metal bowl, then set in on a countertop without breaking eye contact with the alicorn. Celestia peered down imperiously at the open drawers, then her vibrating golden magic retrieved a large kitchen knife. For a moment, the four little ponies' ears pinned back at the sight of Princess Celestia with bloodshot eyes glaring at a very sharp knife. Then she whipped it towards her head. Sergeant Nocturne made a keening wail. Despite her hangover, Celestia caught the blade in her teeth and peeled her lips back. Her magic chimed as she picked up the bowl and butter in her magic. The alicorn moved towards the dining room after tossing her braided mane to the left side of her head. Her right eye squinted at Ramparts. “Scrambled. Eggs.” She managed perfect pronunciation while grimacing with a knife in her mouth. “Scrambled eggs sounds great!” Jungle Trek said happily after a long silence. “Had to eat what we could get in the jungle. Lemme tell you, when a giant snake eats your supplies, you aren’t picky about eggs…” Celestia let her husband further traumatize the other three stallions. She sat down at a long wooden table, settling on a cushioned chair. For the first time in many centuries, she flung her tail to the side instead of letting the nebulous mass float around. The pink braid flumped to the floor. The bowl of melted butter landed on the table without grace, then Celestia scooched herself forward with her forelegs. She flung the baguette next to the butter. After a sigh through the knife, she picked up the baguette in her magic and counted to seven. She set down a loaf of toast. The alicorn reared her head back, then flung the knife down point-first into the wooden table. The blade went deep and split the baguette in two. Breakfast. Celestia licked her chapped lips. Then she paused and squinted at the table. “Fuck,” she swore aloud. She abruptly lifted her head from the table in alarm and looked around with a nervous squint. Nopony was in the dining room. She sighed with relief. The far doors opened with a chime of magic. For a brief moment, Celestia thought her sister had decided to get up early to castigate her. Her headache pounded. A thin, small gray unicorn trotted through with a thick folder. Her mane was fastened into a bun below a folded scarf and a perfectly pressed white blouse. The mare adjusted her small framed glasses with a bent hoof, making sure they balanced on her muzzle. She was mousy and completely unthreatening. Crom, not Raven. Not now. Celestia shrank down in the chair. Given that she was a massive alicorn twice the height of most ponies, it was for naught. Raven spotted her immediately and smiled with far too many teeth. “Princess!” she trilled loudly. “What a good morning!” The sounds of the battering ram striking the front gate echoed through the stained-glass windows in the dining room. Celestia tapped her forehooves on the table, then ceased as it made her headache worse. “Hello, Raven,” she rasped. “There’s much to do today,” Raven continued as she waltzed across the room. The folder whirled around her head, circling like a shark. “We’re behind schedule, Princess. Not that the schedule matters.” “Perhaps it’s best to wait for Kibbutz,” Celestia attempted. “Oh,” Raven laughed, “he’s trapped in his office drafting the official responses to every major nation about your wedding.” Raven tilted her head with a pop of her neck. “Did you know that you swore to the Sultan of Saddle Arabia that you would never marry in 863?” He was ugly. Celestia managed to keep that to herself. “We are divorcing,” she said instead. “Hah!” Raven puffed. “That lucky idiot is going to be a celebrity for the rest of his life. Can’t wait to see the I Married the Princess best-seller next year.” The unicorn floated the folder down and disgorged several dozen papers. “Kibbutz and I have done the hard work. Again.” “Thank you, Raven,” Celestia croaked. She levitated the blade up and sliced it down through the bread. The table shuddered as the knife was buried to the hilt, but the alicorn paid it no mind. She tore the chunk of toast free and rubbed it in the butter bowl. The Princess’ secretary watched blankly. Her gray eyes wandered through the Princess’ mane. “Going for a new look?” Raven whickered. “Trying to impress your husband?” “Raven,” Celestia sighed as her head throbbed, “I usually appreciate your fine wit—” “Any of those reporters get a look at that pink bird’s nest and the stock market’s going to—” “I fucked up,” Celestia snapped down at the mare. She crunched through the slice of toast with unflinching eye contact, then continued speaking and spitting crumbs. “I don’t need your horn up my ass right now. I’m fucking hungover and—” She paused. Her faithful secretary had gone white, eyes far away and pointing in different directions. Celestia levitated over the chunk of bread and poked her, smearing butter on Raven's muzzle. The unicorn rocked on stiff legs at the touch, like a porcelain doll. Fuck. Celestia kept that one to herself. She set the toast down. “Raven, could you please check on the kitchen?” she requested in something passably like her kindly voice. “I’m sorry for startling you.” Raven did not respond or blink. Celestia speared the chunk of toast on the end of her secretary’s horn. The unicorn whinnied and her eyes realigned. “W-wuh? Huh? What?” “Raven?” Celestia said with false worry. “Are you alright? You stopped speaking mid-sentence.” “Your mane,” Raven recalled slowly, lost in thought. “I was saying that reporters are going to think you’re sick and….” the unicorn trailed off as her mind hit a mental block. Is the sight of me swearing so shocking that the average pony will block it from memory? Celestia considered it. Her muzzle began to curl into a grin before she rallied herself and suppressed the feeling. “And…” Raven paused. She shook her head. “It’s been a long night.” Her horn glowed and the folder disgorged another paper. “The zebra and griffon ambassador’s trains are delayed due to all the commotion.” “For what?” Celestia asked as she sliced through another chunk of toast. Raven left the chunk of toast on her horn, seemingly not realizing it was there and muffling the soft chime of her magic. “The Treaty of 804,” Raven deadpanned. “The ceasefire between King Gerion and King Zeeb? It’s the two-hundredth anniversary.” Celestia frowned and looked at the paper. She waved a wing after a moment. “I don’t remember.” “Oh, it’s just one of Equestria’s limited foreign affair successes,” Raven chuckled. “Princess, you were there.” “I’ve had a long life,” Celestia said blithely. “I don’t always remember all of it.” “Oh great,” Raven replied, “tell that to the reporters and they’ll think you’re senile.” She slid another paper out of the folder. Celestia looked at that one as well. Seaward Shoal’s quaint white docks beckoned under gentle waves. Retire at the Sea! was printed in large, blocky font above a cozy series of tall townhouses at a gentle shore. It was the premiere retirement spot in all of Equestria. Boring! Huitzy brayed in her head. By Crom, just fling yourself off a cliff if you’re that done in! “Very funny, Raven,” Celestia said aloud. She gestured with a hoof to her horn, accidentally clinking her golden horseshoe to her ancient wedding ring. Remembering it was there, the alicorn pulled it off and set it atop the brochure for Seaward Shoals. Raven copied the gesture and bumped into the chunk of toast. She yanked it off her horn with a roll of her eyes. “The alimony papers are in the folder with the divorce. It just needs your signatures. Who’s the husband?” “You haven’t heard?” “Star Trek?” Raven guessed. “Canterlot Herald and Equestria Daily are in-fighting about it.” “Jungle Trek with the Cartographer’s Society,” Celestia explained. Raven’s muzzle scrunched and she pulled the folder back. “Huh…” “What’s wrong, Raven?” Celestia asked. Stupid question. Everything’s wrong. “Nothing, Princess,” Raven said slowly. Her eyes flicked through a few pages. “Where’s the Prince?” “In the kitchen,” the alicorn answered. “If you’re going to meet him, do you mind telling Ramparts to add salt and pepper to the eggs?” Raven paused. “Eggs?” Celestia sighed. “Yes.” “…just eggs?” Celestia bared flat teeth. “We are perfectly capable of eating just eggs. They’re in ten thousand recipes. I’m hungover. I want eggs. Why must every damn decision be—" She stopped again as Raven’s eyes began moving in separate directions. “Raven?” Her eyes snapped back in place. “H-huh?” “Do you mind asking Ramparts to take one of Luna’s pineapples and juice it?” Celestia licked her lips again. “It’ll help with the hangover. She has hundreds; she won't miss one.” "I suspect she will," Raven muttered. "She can have one of my strawberry cakes," Celestia countered. Raven reared her head back in complete horror at the thought of Celestia willingly abandoning one of her cakes. Her ears pinned back. “Of course, Princess.” She glanced through the folder again with narrowed eyes. Walking backward, she shuffled into the kitchen and the doors swung shut. Alone, Celestia slammed her head into the table. Idiot. Nag. Put out to pasture, follow the Golden Fields. One bloodshot eye scanned over the cheery brochure. Forget roller coasters and Rainbow Falls. Sit on one of those docks and knit a quilt to cover your fat flank. Her eye wandered back to her suns. She could see her sun cutie marks from the front. Yeah, Huitzy commented, put the Flank that Launched a Thousand Ships in a wheelchair and let Coya shove your fat ass around for a millennia. She’ll like the quiet time. Celestia huffed. I am not arguing with myself. She jerked her head up. Or rather, she tried to remove her head from the table, and pulled half the muscles in her neck. The alicorn sagged to the table with a long, low hiss. She crossed her eyes. Her horn was lodged in the wooden table, nearly to the base. Idiot. Celestia breathed in, then slowly and carefully scooted back in her chair and extracted her horn at an angle. She tugged it free and tossed her mane back again, shaking splinters from the spirals. Afterwards, alone, she shoveled another piece of toast into her mouth. She judged the size of the hole in the table. It was a gift from…Celestia did not remember who it was from, but most of the current furniture in the castle were gifts. Even the throne. War trophies count as gifts, technically. The alicorn closed her eyes and snorted as if it would relieve the headache. She shoved the little brochure for Seaward Shoals over the hole to cover it up. Right after she did so, the doors opened to the kitchen. “So, Jungle Trek—I mean, Prince Jungle Trek,” Raven’s voice began dryly. “Just Jungle is fine. Heh, it rhymed.” Jungle Trek clopped up to Celestia, then seemingly reconsidered and moved around the table to face her. It took him a minute to traverse the room; the dining table could seat twenty ponies on either side. Or ten fat flanks. Celestia swore she could hear her wooden chair creaking over the pounding in her ears. “As requested,” Ramparts suddenly said beside her. Celestia did not jump, and her neck hurt. She cast an eye downwards as the nonplussed chef set a plate of eggs down. It was only eggs, with a light dusting of salt and pepper sitting on a plate with golden filigrees and an intricate engraving of the rising sun. “Sunny side up,” Celestia rasped with a grimace that even the Element of Generosity would not call a smile. "Thank you." Ramparts backed away with his tail tucked between his legs. His chef’s hat was askew. “Well, I haven’t had good eggs in a while!” Jungle Trek laughed. He finally wobbled over to the other side and sat down on a velvet-lined chair. “Comfy!” The earth pony pulled himself up to the table with a screech of chair legs on tile. Raven floated over another plate to Jungle Trek, then set down two tall glasses of pineapple juice. They had bendy straws in them curled to look like little crescent moons. The moment hers landed on the table, Celestia seized it with her hooves and gulped half of it down. The straw was ignored. “Pineapple really does help with a hangover,” Jungle Trek approved. “Learned that…uh, making maps! Lots of mapmaking.” His voice briefly took a higher pitch. “You, uh, spend much time in the jungle?” “I was born there,” Celestia deadpanned without thinking. The three ponies around her blinked in surprise. “R-really?” Crom, what have I told anypony? Celestia felt her headache recede marginally, but her head felt stuffed with cotton. Did I tell Cadance…no, she was far too pure, only eyes for Shining. “Princess,” Raven said softly, “if that’s all, we really need to get started with the proceedings.” “I…I need to bake more pies,” Ramparts deflected. “By your leave, Princess.” “Go, my little ponies,” Celestia sighed. “I’ll have a moment with my husband, then we’ll sign the alimony and get on with the annulment before the reporters break down the doors.” “Of course, Princess,” Raven bowed and backed away, strangely going into the kitchen with ramparts. Celestia did not turn back around to watch them leave, her neck hurt too much for that, but she did spy Nocturne waiting with a frown. The Night Guard poked his head out from the side of the doors, looking past the Princess. She followed his piercing slit eye. Prince Jungle Trek made full use of the bendy straw. He slurped the juice with a smile, having set his pith helmet down on the table. The earth pony’s mane was somewhat perpetually unkempt, and long for a stallion. Celestia actually liked the look. It was roguish, proper for a mercenary. Cartographer, she corrected herself. He’s not Daring Do; he got invited to the Grand Galloping Gala, after all. Jungle Trek set the drink down. “Well, I got to be Prince for a day.” “A little less.” “What stallion can claim that?” Jungle asked good-naturedly. He nabbed a slice of bread with a quick slice of the knife. “I, uh, don’t think they brought out any other utensils.” Celestia leaned down and bit into the eggs with her muzzle. “Use the tablecloth,” she mumbled. She moved at an angle to avoid punching her horn into the table again. “Earth pony style,” the Prince approved. He copied her. Celestia licked her lips, then rubbed a silk cloth across her muzzle and soiled it. “I was born an earth pony.” Jungle Trek paused with a mouthful of peppered eggs. He visibly swallowed. “Uh, really?” “Yes,” Celestia leaned back in the chair. “In the jungle. Was that in any history books?” The earth pony slowly reached out and grabbed another slice of bread. He had to reach across the table a little farther than he properly could. The alicorn smirked and shoved the bread over with a flick of her horn. “It’s not a trick question.” “Not any that I’ve read,” Jungle squeaked. “Shit,” Celestia huffed. “I just…do you like being a cartographer?” “Yeah,” her husband mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “I just love making maps. All day. That’s all I do all day, make maps.” Celestia looked over the papers, the brochure for Seaward Shoals, and the copy of some useless treaty that she barely remembered. Griffons and Zebras barely interacted. The Kingdom of Griffonstone was a ruin entirely dependent on economic aid from Equestria that they postured about every year, and the Confederation of Zebrica did not even recognize the old monarchy that once ruled it. Oh. Celestia smiled to herself and began to laugh. It wasn’t the polite laugh from last night at the Gala, but a full-throated, raspy chuckle. She eyed her husband. Like all of her little ponies, she was taller than him even when sitting down. “Tell me, what’s the worst thing you’ve seen in the jungle?” “I…” Jungle Trek’s ears pinned back. “Not sure that’s appropriate for the breakfast table, Princess.” Celestia frowned, then looked around the fine room with marble pillars and stained-glass windows and gilded carvings along the walls. Her wings fluttered, one wing brushing against the long, wild pink locks of her mane in a rough braid. She looked down and regarded her horseshoes on her forelegs, fine gold with little suns stamped into the metalwork, enchanted to last centuries. I don’t belong here, Huitzy said softly in her mind. No, Celestia said to herself. But I had to be here. She glanced at the cute little town staring up at her from the brochure, hiding a hole made by a long horn. She leaned down and took another bite of eggs, then sipped on her pineapple juice. Prince Jungle Trek mirrored her after a moment of hesitation. “It’s taking her a very long time to die,” King Gerion said with a squawk.