//------------------------------// // From the Desk of HSM Princess Celestia // Story: The Lavender Letter // by Sunchaser //------------------------------// The Lavender Letter Chapter II: From the Desk of HSM Princess Celestia My Faithful Student Twilight Sparkle, I suppose I shall begin with an apology, as I have no doubt that these past two days have been very taxing and worry-filled for you. Accordingly, I am sorry for that. As I told you, I needed time to think; for if I am to be entirely honest, you managed to quite neatly catch me unprepared with your admission. It occurs to me that you organized your own letter-bound concerns into a list for ease, and I think that I shall do the same, for you surprised me in more ways than one. Let’s begin with the smallest and proceed from there, shall we? The first way that you surprised me was in how you ended your second letter: “here’s hoping you’ll catch me”, you wrote, and I must confess that I found it very much unlike you. Now, yes, I have noticed that you have taken to many things of late that could be described as ‘unlike you’, and that explains the first way those words surprised me. The second way, however? Perhaps in your anxiousness you forgot, or perhaps faced with the weight of your actions you believed otherwise for a moment, but, well. There are some things in the world that do not change. The sun and moon rise and set, my sister makes dramatic entrances to events, and I will always catch you, Twilight Sparkle. Nothing will ever change that. With that addressed, let’s move to the second way you surprised me: your resignation. It isn’t so much the fact that you’ve resigned that constitutes the surprise as such. I knew it to be inevitable that you would depart your apprenticeship—I would eventually ‘graduate you’, ideally, but you would depart nonetheless. And I had a fair idea of what the reasons behind such a departure could be, and yes, the growing importance of the pursuit of romance was one I considered. You were also correct in your presumption that I would have advised you to such an action, had you asked such advice as you had intended at the recent Summer Sun Celebration, though I would perhaps have cautioned against...undue haste. Accordingly, what has surprised me is that you have made that resignation now. I rather wasn’t expecting this departure for another few years. (It’s a rare thing for me to be caught out like that, you know, so do take pride in having managed to blindside me. It’s not easy to do these days!) And, finally, the third and greatest way you surprised me. When I sat down to read that lavender letter of yours, I suspected I was going to find a resignation in it, and I suspected that it was borne of the desire to pursue romance. Indeed, this is why I would have so advised you, as I mentioned above; for Twilight Sparkle to go chasing love, being the student and protégé of Her Esteemed Pedestal-Enshrinedness Princess Celestia is no small hindrance. Your distancing yourself from me would have been all but necessary, both for anypony to have the courage to approach you in the first place, and to further ensure that anypony who did so was not driven by the desire to curry favor or exploit your connections. Such is the price of position, as I’m certain you recall. So, yes, I expected you to tell me you wanted to go chasing romance. I further expected, given your resignation being in that very letter, that you already had an intended to pursue. I did not, however, expect that intended to be me. (I said it was a rare thing for me to be blindsided, and to take pride in your accomplishment? I should really present you some sort of engraved plaque or such to commemorate this one. Two days, Twilight Sparkle; for two days you knocked silly a princess of Equestria. Well done!) Faced with such a plethora of unexpected complications, I unfortunately could offer you no better response than ‘I need time to think’, for it was the truth. And now I have had that time, and I have thought, and I thank you for your patience, as I know it has not been easy to give, especially taking in hoof what you’ve already offered me. Accordingly, I, Princess Celestia of the Solar Throne, regent of Equestria, do hereby formally accept your resignation of apprenticeship, and release you from any responsibilities and obligations that may have been imposed upon you thereby. Save for one. I have enclosed within this letter another (it was a lovely idea I encountered recently). My final request to you, as my faithful student, is that you meet me in the solarium this evening, and that you read it only then. With boundless pride and best wishes, Your Mentor, Princess Celestia ~~~~~ Princess Luna hummed softly to herself as she strolled through the quiet halls of Canterlot Castle, a smile still tugging at her lips following her early dismissal, and thus escape, from court. It was something she wanted to do often enough—rosy nostalgia and a sense of purpose only allowed one to endure so many patronizing nobles—but rarely did she actually indulge the desire. ...Tonight was an exception. As she walked the halls, between turns smiling at the guardsponies and offering pleasant greetings to the night staff, Luna was on the hunt. For she wasn't the only princess who had cut short her court that day; Celestia had also dismissed her Sunlight Court early that afternoon—hours in advance of its usual closing. Thus after doing the same with her own Starlight Court—a rather less noteworthy event given the marked difference in attendant petitioners—Luna had made a quick visit to the royal archives, curious as to how long it had been since Celestia had last ended her court early. The answer to that question...concerned her. If not for so long, sister, why now, the night princess caught herself thinking again, as she topped a wide staircase opening onto the fourth floor of the castle keep. Celestia had not been in her chambers, the first stop Luna had made only a few minutes into her search; nor had she been in her solarium study, the second likely place. Those had been followed by a lengthy stretch of scouring the castle library, but even that had, somewhat surprisingly, come up empty. It had become apparent by then that her sister was clearly set on not being found, and so Luna was now ascending the long spiral staircase that wound its way up the interior of the tallest tower of Canterlot Castle: the royal observatory. It was a part of the castle that had seen comparatively little use over its history—until the arrival of a certain studious unicorn. Accordingly, when Luna mounted the final steps to the crowning observation balcony and found her sister, surrounded by parchment and staring at the distant stars, she had grasped a fair idea of just what—or rather, who—was on Celestia's mind. Still, one did not simply waltz up to the Princess of the Eternal Sun and needle her about her personal concerns. There was a protocol to such things. "So here you are," she said softly, taking a few leisurely steps to her sister's side. "What is it that's got you all locked up in contemplation tonight, sister?" Celestia was quiet a long moment, only slightly turning her head to even acknowledge the younger princess. "...Twilight is in love with me," she finally answered, in a hushed tone. Luna blinked a few times, arching a brow as her lips curled into a curious smile. "Really, Tia? Not even the faintest attempt at deflection?" The elder sister appeared to consider a reply, but said nothing. "...Well, alright," Luna said, a warm laugh behind her smile. "So, tell me something I don't know." Celestia sighed. "Twilight told me she's in love with me." An immediately fitting response eluded the night princess, and so a brief silence fell over them as she considered the turn of events. "Oh my," she eventually mused, as she turned the revelation over in her mind. "Now this...this is an unforeseen development, isn't it? Much sooner than I thought, to be sure." "Wait," Celestia said, turning to her sister. "You've been expecting this?" "Of course I have," Luna replied flatly, peering at her sister a little skeptically. "You mean to tell me—oh. Oh dear. You had no idea." "...None." "Um, well...you do now?" Luna finally offered with a nervous chuckle. The sun princess once more said nothing, her eyes again drifting out to the distant stars, while Luna's were eventually caught in a slightly more considered look at the nearby parchments— Several of which bore the heading 'From the desk of Twilight Sparkle'. "I take it, then, that somewhere in these pages, your student declared her intentions?" Luna asked, a touch of hesitance in her voice as her eyes returned to considering her sister's troubled countenance. Celestia shut her eyes, hung her head, and breathed a deep sigh. "She did at that," she said wearily. "She offered her resignation—and the reason for it." Still, as much as it was bearing down on her sister, Luna couldn't help but smile at the notion. "It really is rather daring of her, though, isn't it? Well, at least if one presumes that she realizes..." She trailed off, the thought derailed by a little consideration. "Well, yes, of course she does. This is Twilight Sparkle; she would necessarily have considered the relevant complications in advance." "She essentially said as much, yes," Celestia noted. Luna pondered a moment, before slowly shaking her head. "More's the pity, really, that you have to turn her down." To that, however...Celestia said nothing. "You...are going to turn her down," Luna persisted. The elder sister eventually turned, revealing a face bearing a conflicted mask of obvious worry framing a fragile smile. "I...I don't know." She doesn't know? "Well, well, well," Luna said gleefully, as a wide cheshire grin spread across her face. "Somepony has managed to move the immutable heart of Celestia? How long has it been?" The sun princess chuckled nervously, looking down at her shuffling hooves. "A very long time," she whispered. "Too long," Luna corrected, to which her sister sheepishly nodded. And so, with the layer of ice over them now broken, Luna settled in and waited for her sister to air her concerns. "I promised Twilight an answer before she leaves," Celestia eventually offered. "And that's tomorrow. I've been trying to decide for the past two days, and I just...can't make up my mind." "I'm a little surprised," Luna said, smiling, "that she was willing to wait even that long, considering." "She nearly didn't," Celestia replied quietly. "I was so surprised by her admission—I was stunned speechless. I don't even remember all that well the last time that happened! But I didn't say anything, and..." The sun princess shook her head, her fragile smile wavering. "Twilight—dear, nervous, panic-inclined Twilight—took my silence to mean I was turning her away. And you know? She didn't get angry, or break down and cry. No, she was just worried about me seeing her be strong, for what might have been the last time." Celestia raised her eyes, her tremulous, tear-lined eyes, to match Luna's own. "She accepted it with no small grace, you know. And then she smiled, and she turned and started walking away, and—" She sniffled, laughing bleakly as she dabbed at her eyes with a clumsy hoof. "And I realized I would never see her again, Luna, that if she walked out of that room she would be gone, and I screamed at myself to say something, to stop her, and...and it took me so much longer than it should have." "But you did," Luna assured her sister softly, whisking away her tears with a magically procured hoofkerchief. "She didn't leave, and still hasn't." "I know," Celestia blurted out between tearful laughs. "Bless her, she gave me time to decide, and it has to be excruciating for her to wait like this." Luna wiped away a few more tears, wrapping her wings around her sister in a soothing embrace. Celestia quickly welcomed it, resting her head gently on the younger mare's shoulder. "...Well," Luna said, beginning to organize her thoughts now that they were getting to, ahem, the heart of the matter, "it seems to me, Celestia, that the very fact that there is a consideration of accepting Twilight's feelings at all speaks volumes, given the manifold opposing factors." "It does, I know," the sun princess quietly replied, "but that alone is not enough. Not for this." "There is also the eminently clear importance she holds to you," Luna continued, "given that you've dismissed your court early for the first time in three hundred and twelve years—I checked the archives. And, oh, also this little bit about how you've been reduced to the state of a sobbing filly by the prospect of losing her?" Drawing back from their hug, Luna matched her eyes to those of her sister. "You ought to admit it," she said, gently. "You love her." "I do. I have for years," Celestia said bluntly. "Just...not like that." "Not like that yet," Luna corrected her softly. "You'll forgive me if I don't find the idea such a dreadful leap." Now, she expected her sister to be rather intent on replying to so blatant a statement as that, but it seemed that the words just weren't there... Or perhaps they are, but you are hesitant to speak them? Well, that's alright, Celestia. Twilight provided a way around that, did she not? "...Now then," Luna said, preparing to lay out the conclusion, "given my particular history, you may or may not agree that I am especially well-suited to advising you on such a decision as this. But since the greatest value of advice is in convincing one to do what they have decided to do already..." She paused, and pondered for a moment. "Now did you say that, or did I read it somewhere...? Well, regardless, the truth of it stands evident. With all these things in hoof: Celestia?" An indigo aura of magic enveloped some blank parchment and a red feather quill, presenting them to the sun princess. "I would suggest that you have a letter to write." Celestia eventually took hesitant hold of the items, glancing to Luna. "...You're not wrong," Celestia said as she considered the page before her. "That I'm thinking about this so seriously at all...and Twilight is very dear to me." She tentatively opened the nearby ink bottle, dipping her quill and setting it cautiously to the parchment. Dearest Twilight, she wrote...and then paused again. "But am I just thinking like this because I'm afraid of losing her?" she continued, turning to her sister. "I could not bear such selfishness." "Celestia. Twilight made her feelings on the matter entirely clear," Luna countered. "And besides...are you not due a little selfishness after this long?" The elder princess took a few deep, calming breaths, which the younger recognized as her calling upon a practiced meditation to center herself. "Perhaps," Celestia said quietly. "But I cannot allow this decision to be made simply by my fear of loss." Luna thought a moment, and parted her lips to speak...but Celestia had put quill to parchment now, and her expression spoke plainly to the finality of the words. “I’ll...leave you to it,” the younger princess said with a quiet nod, then departing the tower balcony to leave Celestia with her thoughts. She only prayed that her sister had made the right decision. ~~~~~ Dearest Twilight, There’s something I need to tell you. (I couldn’t resist.) But more seriously...I owe you a proper answer, don’t I? I shall endeavour not to take too many pages to arrive there. I don’t mean to tease—well, not too much—but there are a few things I would like to lay out before we get to that. Do please resist your (understandable) temptation to skip to the end of the letter. Actually, I’ll enchant a time delay on the last page, just to be sure. Now then: Twilight, I have not been so...so unabashedly flattered, in a very, very long time, as I have these past two days. As I was at that moment, when I reached the end of that letter. I read it twice, that last part, just to be sure. It’s not something I talk about, my love life, as you may understand—but I’m going to now. Accordingly, I would appreciate if nopony else—in particular my sister—ever came to know this letter exists. (It’s nice to dream, isn’t it? Luna probably already has a copy somewhere.) So, rather than patter about for a page, I think I shall get right into it. I have not had a romantic partner in over four hundred years. Not for the lack of suitors...well, except this century—this century has been pretty dry. But recent years aside, historically speaking I would typically be approached by a pony or two every decade. The majority of them would be attempts to arrange political unions of a sort, consolidation of noble houses, on the rare occasion a blatant attempt to marry into power. The most recent of those was, oh, two hundred and seventy or so years ago? It was very refreshing, actually; it was a pegasus stallion who came to court and requested a private audience, wherein he straightforwardly outlined his desire to marry me for social and political gain. Oh, and it also didn’t hurt that I was ‘a hell of a looker who would never get old’. Oh, I had a good laugh that day. I turned him down, of course; tempting as it was to turn the entire nobility on its head, the scandal would have endured for far longer than the amusement. I did induct him into the royal guard, though. Knighted him, made him a captain, gave him a division. He ended up being one of the greatest soldiers I ever had. He would always be direct and honest with me; it was such a nice thing. Well then, there’s one tangent down. Back to point...the last time I had a romance, Twilight, was four hundred and thirty years ago. She was a lovely earth pony—she played the harp magnificently. So well, in fact, that after hearing her play in the Keep Square just once, I asked her if she would teach me. She didn’t faint on the spot. I think I starting growing fond of her right then. We met every month for two years, spending an entire day out in the west gardens with the sun, wind, and a pair of golden harps. She was shy and reserved around me, like most ponies are, except for when we sat down at our instruments. The strings brought her to life, and when we played, I often felt rather unsure of myself in comparison to how her hooves danced across the strings, weaving with ease such heartfelt music. She was a skilled teacher, as well, and after those two years, I was accredited as a master harpist by the Canterlot Symphony. I was still pale in comparison to my dear Wisteria. I haven’t mentioned her name before now, have I? Wisteria Heartstrings. She was named for her unexpected color: a soft, powdery violet, and so bright it turned to silver under the moonlight. We met monthly for two years, as I said, until one perfect april morning. We began with breakfast, lovely honey toasts and orange tea, and then we went out to the gardens with our harps. Rather than progress into practice and a lesson, though...Wisty asked me to just listen, for she had a piece she wanted me to hear. So I listened, and she played, and I wept for the soulful melancholy that echoed from her strings. She wove together haunting melodies, music that spoke of great longing, and resigned hopes, and distant vision of what was wished to be. It was absolutely beautiful, and I lamented that I could do no more than say as much. But she was glad, she told me, for she worried it may be the last piece she ever played for me. Shocked, I asked why this could be, and she told me that she did not know if we would meet again after that morning. For she had fallen in love with me, she told me, her gaze deep and sincere. She told me of her joy at meeting me, that day in the city square, and how it humbled her that I asked her to teach; how she was so happy to find that I was as deeply moved by music as she; how amazed she was with my growth as a harpist, and how she eventually came to look forward to simply playing in duet on those weekend days. She told me of how she came to so treasure those meetings, and how distance came to inspire a growing fondness that took hold of her heart... And I’m sure she would have told me many other things, desperate to prolong the moment, fearful of letting me speak for what I might say, that I might send her away for her daring. So I said nothing, but rather simply went to her, and kissed her instead. She was quiet after that, and there were some tears, but it was alright. They were the happy kind. We spent much time together following that day in the gardens, and we spoke of many things—the sorts of things that one needs to speak of, when one aspires to romance with a princess. But dear Wisteria...she was courageous, and she dared the storm for me, and it made me want to play music. So over the next few years, we would go out into the city, or to the theater houses, and Wisty and I would play our harps. The audiences were gracious, and we were happy—but it was always most special in the gardens, in the quiet mornings, just the two of us. She stayed with me for eight years. Even today, I bless her for enduring that long. It wasn’t easy for her, like it was for me. Nopony would ever dare say a thing to me about who I associate with, and much as I wanted to, I could not have her at my side all the time. There were those who disapproved, those who craved influence, even those who wished to strike at me but hadn’t the bravery to do so honestly. They all set eyes upon my Wisteria, and schemed to make her a pawn in their games of power. She told me of such things, yes, as she was not so silly as to try to spare me from that, and so I was able to...address some of it, but, well. It has been said that I blaze very brightly, and that a pony can only stand close to me for so long before they are burned. And while I may disagree with the statement as an axiom...it rings true in this case. It took eight years, but Wisteria eventually got burned one time too many. She loved me, she said, she loved me so very dearly...but she could not endure any more. She hated the very idea of leaving, but the world of court was poisonous at near every turn, and it was killing her. I wanted to selfishly protest, to tell her I could somehow make it better...to beg her to stay. But I knew the truth of her words all too well, for she was not the first pony I had lost to such things. And so I bid her to go from me, from Canterlot, to be free and find another happiness. She was quiet after that, and there were some tears, but it was alright. Even though they weren’t the happy kind. We kept in touch through letters, quietly, discretely, so that those who haunted her steps around me would not follow her away, and for a time, it was enough. I even slipped away a few times—a weekend here, a summer retreat there—and she was overjoyed to see me. I was silly enough to think it could go on that way, for a little while. And, well, for a little while it did. But eventually the secret visits grew sparse; business at court kept me bound a few weeks longer, a border crisis cancelled holiday plans. Three years after she departed Canterlot, the letter I silently dreaded was waiting on my desk. She had met someone, she wrote, and they had stirred her heart. That wasn't what hurt, though. It was that most of the letter was her telling me she was sorry to have done so. And at the end...she asked for my blessing. It was then that I realized that I wasn't her Celestia any longer—that I had not been for a long time. That I was just her princess, like in those days before we met in the city square, before those meetings in the gardens to play our harps, where she came to know me for me, rather than for my crown. And she fell in love with me, as I did with her, and she stayed with me for years—all the while, the weight of my crown crushing the life out of her, out of us, and I never noticed it. I wrote her a long response, with all of those thoughts. I poured out my heart, I suppose, desperate to be understood, for her to know me again, futile as it may have been. And at the end...I gave her my blessing. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy, no matter with who, I wrote, careful to keep the parchment dry. I received one more letter from her, a year and a half after that, and knew before I even opened it that it was the last. I knew that she would tell me she was engaged to marry, and that she could no longer write to me as she had...and that she was sorry. For things turning out as they had, for taking so long to finally respond, for...so many things. In the end I drew a piece of parchment, took up my quill, and wrote my last words to dear Wisteria: 'so long as you are happy, that is enough'. I bound the letter with a piece of bright violet ribbon, and sent it off. And then I gathered the roll of that ribbon, which I only ever used to bind one kind of letter; and I gathered up all of Wisty's letters, the dozens of them she had sent me over the years. I threw it all into my fireplace, and I burned it...just like I'd burned her. Right, now, where was I? I...had to step away from writing for a moment. Keeping the parchment dry and all that, you understand. Ah, yes. So Wisteria Heartstrings married, a nice unicorn stallion as I recall. I didn't see the wedding, never even learned the groom's name. She had children, I know that much, lived a good life from what little distant watch I kept. So far as I know, she died a happy old mare. A half dozen generations after her, the Heartstrings name finally returned to Canterlot. They were still musicians, to their credit. A few of them even went through my school! I'm afraid I haven't kept track past that, though, so I couldn't tell you where any of them are now. I couldn't tell you where my harp is, either, now that I think about it. I stopped playing, had it tucked away somewhere to collect dust a few hundred years ago. The point of all this, Twilight, was not just to tell you about my last love, all those years ago, but rather to tell you of my last loss. It may have taken time to admit to myself, but I did so long enough ago to now be unhesitant in admitting that I have avoided romance in the years since because I am afraid of being hurt like that again. This has been rather easy to do, as well, since nopony has seriously pursued me since. Well, nopony except you, now. There are a lot of complications—strings attached, you might say?—to romancing a princess, Twilight. But as my sister wisely noted in a recent conversation, you already know that, and you would have come to terms with those things before coming to me. So it wasn't any of those things that I needed to think about. I didn't need to worry about what such a relationship with me would do to you—you've done your due diligence on that. I don't have to concern about Canterlot intrigues, because you've learned your way around those through most of your life. What I did need to think about, Twilight, was whether or not I'm ready to fall in love again. As you wrote, the first lesson of romance is that you need to take risks, and this is a very large one for me. I honestly don't know whether I'm ready for this. But, dear Twilight...I would like to try. I know that I shouldn't. I know that what I should do is refuse your feelings, if gently, to spare myself the worry and you the hardships. I should play things safe, and not court intrigue and scandal. But I won't. Because somepony reminded me of an important lesson. Sometimes you need to wager what's safe and secure, risking your middling joy against the potential pain and despair of loss, for the chance of grasping that pinnacle happiness. You hoped I would catch you, Twilight, and I have. What would you say to trying to fly? With greatest sincerity and fondest hopes, Celestia ~~~~~ Celestia sat in silence, watching and waiting as Twilight carefully read through the pages of her second letter with an unexpectedly admirable patience. She wasn't quite sure now of some of the things she'd put down on those pages, in her admittedly emotional rush to commit her answer to paper before she could change her mind. There was a part of her that wondered, now that she was stuck with time to think about it, what the younger mare thought of her hastily scrawled confessions. Would Twilight suddenly have second thoughts about her bold appeal, now that her intended was revealed as anything but the perfect princess? Perhaps that would be best? Then she would step back from her admission, and then after a little awkwardness, things could go back to the nice, simple, safe way they had been— No, she chastised herself, quashing such petty and fearful thoughts with a moment's practiced effort. Twilight had the courage to do this, and she risks far more than I in that doing. I won't have it answered by such cowardice. The rustling of paper briefly filled the quiet air as Twilight turned to the final page of the second letter. She'd had a tranquil way about her when she had entered the solarium just before. A peaceful acceptance, really, likely borne of an assumption of pending gentle refusal. ...And it occurs to me that I wrote that letter such that it implies as much right up to the end, doesn't it? And then the eleventh-hour reversal. Perhaps Luna's dramatic flair has influenced me more than I knew. She couldn't help but smile, though. As slightly cruel as it may have been in its presentation, it was still, in the end, the answer that Twilight wanted. As the unicorn seemed to have just noticed, as she was staring hard at the bottom of the page, not even daring to breathe. "This...this says—but I thought..." she whispered, in halting disbelief, staring at the parchment for a long moment before turning to the quiet mare sitting beside her. "Celestia. Is this—does this mean...?" The princess smiled. "It means a lot of things, Twilight," she said softly. "It means that after you risked everything you've ever had on such a noble and courageous wish, that the choice was clear. It means that, since the only thing I was risking was the chance of revisiting an old hurt that's been healed for centuries, that I've waited long enough. It means..." The princess paused, taking a deep breath, and then she knelt to bring her eyes level with the stunned unicorn. "It means four words, that you've had to wait for two days longer than you should have," Celestia said, her ever-strong voice turned airy and free. "My dearest Twilight...yes."