//------------------------------//
// Princess 
// Story: Twice as Bright 
// by Cloudy Skies 
//------------------------------//

	If anypony had ever thought that Pinkie Pie never listened—and many ponies had said just that—they would eat their words right now. Pinkie had to admit it sounded like a particularly terrible fate, especially if the words were to replace a meal rather than be added to it. Skipping dinner just to eat a silly sentence wasn’t something she’d wish upon her worst enemy, even if she had such a thing.

Pinkie Pie shrugged and reached down to poke the hem of her dress. Saturday afternoon, around five o'clock, Celestia had said, and that was exactly when she’d arrived at the palace. Welcome, miss. Please follow me, the nice pony with the long, red mane had said, and Pinkie followed. Please have a seat, the Princess will be with you shortly, the same pony had said when they arrived at a small waiting chamber, and so Pinkie waited.

So far, the date was a success. She’d even taken the precaution of listening to other ponies before the date, and what she wore was proof of that. Rarity’s newest dress was smaller and less fabric-y than the last one she’d made, and Pinkie was glad. Most fancy dresses just made her feel like something was chasing her, like a vicious gopher or a pack of meerkats had latched onto her tail. This snazzy thing was more like a vest with a dress skirt that hugged her flank, barely reaching the ground. Pinkie shifted where she sat and straightened it again. It was a nice dress, and soft, too.

If she had to be completely honest though, the dress didn’t need a whole lot of straightening. Pinkie bit her lower lip and tried to find something to occupy her, but it was like these waiting rooms were designed to be as pretty yet un-fun as possible. Couches, pillows, tables and lamps. While that was plenty for a round of Pinkie’s thirteenth favorite game of Couches and Lamps, it was very much a two-player activity.

Waiting, then. Pinkie sank down in her seat, disappearing between the colorful pillows until she couldn’t tell where Pinkie ended and the pillows began. The world slowed down a tiny bit, and she started thinking again. Her mind drifted back to a certain conversation with Twilight, to words that kept Pinkie sane even if they didn’t quite ring true.

She wasn’t afraid. The more Pinkie thought about her own words, the less she believed in fear. In uncertainty. In all those other crazy words Twilight suggested. Of course Pinkie knew what fear meant. She still remembered what it had been like to be afraid of the dark. Nopony could stare down a roaring dragon without feeling fear, and besides, Pinkie once thought she’d used Sugarcube Corner’s last packet of sugar on a Saturday evening. She knew fear better than anypony, and this wasn’t it.

She just had no clue what it was, this unbearable pressure that would not relent even though she knew exactly why she was doing this all this. She knew her motivation. No sooner had she started thinking about her quest than did the smaller set of doors of the waiting room open, admitting not one, but four ponies. Princess Celestia entered first, shortly followed by two guards and a unicorn mare.

For the longest time, Pinkie could do nothing but sit and stare at the prettiest pony she had ever seen, the tall princess with hair like a river of color, a coat of purest white, and eyes that begged for a reason to always smile and laugh.

Of course, technically the princess looked like she usually and always did, shod and clad in all her golden shinies, but that was kind of the point. She even brought out her usual calm full-body barely-a-smile when she nodded at Pinkie.

“Good afternoon, Pinkie Pie. I see you rearranged the waiting room to better suit you.”

Pinkie Pie glanced around at her seating area. “Oh. Oh yeah. Your pillows were all over the place and on the couches and everything,” she said, crawling out from the mound of pillows she’d made. “It’s a lot softer like this. Hi! Who’re your friends?”

Celestia turned to smile at her little entourage, setting them all moving towards the door opposite. Pinkie took up position at Celestia’s side while the earth pony guards walked behind. The unicorn mare trailed behind after nodding by way of greeting.

“This is Boulderdash,” Celestia said, indicating the stallion behind and to her left while opening the doors and leading them down the palace halls. “And this is Tempered Steel. Last, we have Acacia, my attendant.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss Pie,” Acacia said, dipping her head once more.

Pinkie trotted backwards for a little bit, squinting first at the armored guards, then at the deceptively polite and nice unicorn. When she wasn’t staring down at or scribbling on her clipboard, her eyes were darting every which way. There was only one possible explanation.

“Are we going to be attacked by pirates?” Pinkie asked. Sure enough, as soon as the question left Pinkie’s mouth, Acacia looked even more alert. Pinkie looked up at the princess to find Celestia looking right back at her with a chuckle on her lips.

“I hope not, but one can never be too certain,” Celestia said. “Is this you asking about the guard detail?”

“Oh sure! I think you understand me better than I do, really, but okay. Why are we bringing guards? Is the date—oh my gosh, is the date on a pirate ship?” Pinkie bounced higher and higher with each step.

Celestia shook her head and exchanged glances with Acacia. She didn’t reply before they exited a large set of doors and then another, bringing them out under the darkening afternoon sky. The palace must have had at least as many courtyards as waiting rooms, because Pinkie had never seen this small walled-off area before. Celestia made for a large six-pony carriage at the foot of the wide steps they walked.

“In part, I ask them to join me because it is what ponies expect when I leave the palace. I am expected to be guarded, and so I am. Also, it can be hard for me to make all the necessary arrangements and payments and such. Mostly, though? Because they are my friends.”

Celestia smiled, and Pinkie couldn’t quite tell if it was a smile for her or for the guards and the attendant who might secretly be a ninja pony. It didn’t seem that it was either, but rather, both. It was a smile for absolutely everypony. Pinkie’s trot slowed until she came to a halt.

“Wow.”

Celestia paused with one leg up on the carriage’s stairs, tilting her head. “Is this surprising?”

Pinkie Pie giggle-snorted. “No, silly, it’s great! I just thought about how ponies always say I talk to everypony or try to be nice to them and throw parties and everything, but you’re nice to everypony in all of Equestria all at once.” She shook her head slowly, with as much reverence as possible. “I don’t think I want to fight you in a nice-off.”

The two guards both smiled for a fraction of a second, though they were quick to hide their expressions again and find their positions at the side of the carriage. The ninja accountant even went so far as to grin and look up at Celestia, and the princess smiled back.

“It is quite early in the evening for flattery, but I appreciate the compliment,” Celestia said, finally stepping inside the closed carriage. When Acacia did the same, Pinkie followed, planting her tush on a plush bench by Celestia’s side.

“I thought ‘flattery’ meant things that weren’t totally true,” Pinkie said, shrugging. “Where are we going if it isn’t a pirate ship? Is it a secret?”

Celestia chuckled. “No, not at all, and I did not mean to keep you in the dark. We are going to attend the opening of a brand new banquet hall in the Starlit Dome, a rather large gathering of much of the Canterlot elite, some would say.”

Pinkie frowned. “What would you say?”

“I would say that the word ‘elite’ does not flatter anypony, and I make a point of visiting the establishments of those who are less well off, too. Still, Princesses need to make public appearances like these every now and then.”

Pinkie Pie nodded, pretending to understand the silly use of the word ‘need’. Ponies needed to eat their vegetables, and they needed to brush their teeth twice a day to keep them sparkly. She couldn’t say this sounded all that need-y. The carriage jerked, and for a moment nopony spoke, the only sound that of six sets of hooves pulling them across the cobblestones. Canterlot drifted past their windows at a comfortable pace, a mix of marble, painted wood and magical lights.

“Besides,” Celestia said, clearing her throat. “I have it on good authority that they have hired one of Canterlot’s best caterers. There will be food.”

“I like it already,” Pinkie said, grinning hugely. “We could’ve just gone to Joe’s if we wanted snacks though.”

Celestia nodded, leaning forward to steal a peek out one of the thin windows. “Mm, yes, but there is one more thing that very much points us towards the Starlit Dome.”

Pinkie Pie made an inquisitive noise, leaning over to try to see what Celestia was looking for, but the princess reclined and smiled at her.

“Preference. I very much appreciated each and every excursion and dinner with you and our friends, and I look forward to more, but at heart, I am a creature of tradition. This is far more appropriate for a date, and it is what I desire.”

The words were simple and understandable enough, but the way Celestia looked at her suggested it was more. There was no question in her voice, but still it sounded a little bit like Celestia asked permission—or that she was testing her. Pinkie Pie knew for a fact that she’d only had three muffins and a scone before she left for Canterlot, so where all the butterflies in her tummy came from, she had no idea.

“I don’t mind, I bet it’ll be loads of fun! Not every party has to have party poppers. Fluttershy doesn’t like them, so last time she had her birthday, I didn’t use a single one!”

“That sounds like a gesture she would appreciate.”

“Uh-huh! She didn’t like the fireworks I used instead, though,” Pinkie said, pouting. “She said she loved them, but she wouldn’t come down from the rafters for hours.”

Celestia smiled wide and let out her breath, but from the other side of the carriage, Acacia burst into laughter. The unicorn scrambled to cover her mouth with her hooves, her cheeks bright red against her grey coat.

“I’m sorry,” Acacia muttered, another snort bubbling up.

“I did warn you,” Celestia said, laughing. “Looks like we have arrived. Acacia, would you be a dear and tell Boulderdash that he and Tempered Steel can wait by the carriage or by the door? Whichever they prefer is fine, but I am certain the Dome has a porter.”

Acacia nodded and slipped out the carriage just as it stopped, the very last set of clops drowned out by a growing susurrus, a perpetual jumble of talk and movement that doubled when the door opened. Pinkie twiddled her hooves and waited for whatever it was the Princess waited for, but after a moment, the princess didn’t look like she was waiting for anything more.

“For one who speaks of tradition and properness, I have forgotten more than I would like,” Celestia said, her brow knit.

“Oh. You go first,” Pinkie said. “You asked me out, so you leave the carriage first. Rarity told me right before I left! Or left before I right. I forget.”

Celestia blinked, her mouth hanging open for a second before she minded herself, her expression slowly morphing into a smile. “I will not even ask how you could possibly have known that was what I meant. Instead, I will say this: you have wonderful friends.”

“They’re yours too, but yep!” Pinkie affirmed, smiling and following in the colorful tail’s wake out the door. The Starlit Dome was bigger than anything Pinkie had seen short of the palace, a large, dark structure with a glass dome on top that glittered in the sunset. The impending darkness did not deter its visitors in the least; dozens of carriages of varying colors and fanciness flocked to the area, and ponies littered the garden.

“In amidst all this talk, I never had a moment to compliment your dress. I did not mean to be rude.”

Pinkie shook her head and tried to clear it of all the lights and ponies. She could catalogue them later and make the rounds asking for all their names some other time. Or maybe while Celestia went to the bathroom if she needed to. All in good time. Right now, Celestia stood two paces to her left, one foreleg raised as if to say ‘lets go’. And she’d just said something that Pinkie struggled to remember in the face of the desire to ask Celestia if she wanted a hug right there and then.

“Hold up a sec,” Pinkie said, rubbing her temples. “Oh! The dress! Aw, thanks. That’s Rarity’s, too. Why aren’t you wearing a dress? Is it because you’re so pretty you don’t need a dress because you know I’d love a hug anyway?”

There was a noise somewhere between a cough and a snort off to the side, and Pinkie didn’t need to look to know it was Acacia. If she was a ninja of some sort, she was the noisiest and smiliest ninja Pinkie had ever seen.

Celestia neither snorted nor coughed. Rather, she laughed. Celestia gave a full-bodied laugh, and while it wasn’t very loud, it came with a smile that made Pinkie want to grin and glow twice as bright as ever before. She felt happy, warm and content all at once, and while she’d normally revel in all the attention the sound got from the others, she couldn’t quite take her eyes off the smiling princess until finally Celestia covered her mouth with a hoof.

“We should head inside, I think,” Celestia managed, shaking her head and giving another little chuckle. She didn’t seem to care about all the odd looks the well-dressed unicorns were giving them, more concerned with pointing towards the fancy door and leading Pinkie towards it.

“To actually answer your question, no. It is because ponies have come to expect me to wear the royal regalia. The crown, especially, is not just a heavy and impractical hat.”

Pinkie nodded at this. “Heavy, impractical and shiny.”

“I do in fact polish it myself, though my maid insists on giving it a weekly pass as well,” Celestia said. “My point is, they are symbols of my office as a princess. I had a few more items I used around the summer sun celebrations, long ago, but, well. They are lost, and that is quite a long story.”

Pinkie tilted her head, looking up at the princess who now kept her own eyes straight ahead. “I’d love to hear it some time. I love stories! But don’t you think they would recognize you without the shiny shoes and all? I know I would!”

Celestia slowed down as they approached the entrance, an ornate and crowded affair of more glass than stone or wood. The crowd parted before them with nods and more than a few bows, and the stallion in tuxedo by the door proper straightened up even further. Pinkie couldn’t hold back a giggle; his snout had been pointing skywards from beforehoof, and now she could look straight into his nostrils.

“They would,” Celestia said with a little sigh, her voice sounding a little uncertain in the way she sometimes did when Pinkie asked questions. If not for the lingering smile, Pinkie would have guessed she was a little tired or annoyed, but she knew she wasn’t. She didn’t look anything like Rainbow Dash did when Pinkie tried to explain her some new game she’d just made up.

“Your highness,” the porter said, his horn taking on a soft glow as he opened a set of glass doors. Celestia nodded her greeting and said some words or other, but Pinkie hardly listened. She was waiting for the rest of an explanation that never came. Celestia had apparently decided it was time for a new topic. Pinkie Pie shrugged and trotted after the princess, waving her hellos at the silent doorpony to join Celestia inside.

“Oh. Oh wowsies.” The words tumbled out of Pinkie of their own accord simply because they couldn’t not be said. She paused not two steps inside the door, wondering if she truly was inside, her eyes drawn skywards.

The glass dome was fancy enough from outside, but on the inside, it was a whole different bucket of muffins, and all of it was a single room. Right inside the entrance was a small platform and reception area all in plush red carpets and elegant dark stone, and there were spacious stairwells that led down. For all that they were fancy enough to be the front room of any high class restaurant, they were an afterthought. A broad set of central stairs of less than a dozen steps led up to the main level, the biggest room Pinkie Pie had ever seen, all under a glass sky.

Far above, a latticework of hexagonal silver supports framed the glass dome, and as she watched, the sun’s final rays played against it, oranges and yellows filtering in to cast a hush over a crowd momentarily painted bright by the light—and what a crowd it was. There had to be hundreds of ponies spread out across the main level, with dozens of food tables and a large stage where some band or other was setting up.

“Quite the project,” Celestia said. She, too, had her head tilted up to observe the light show. Pinkie trotted the last few steps to stand at her side again, grinning at the princess.

“I guess it’s not as cool when you’re the one doing the whole sun thing, huh? I think it’s super shiny!”

“Or you could make the argument that it is twice as wonderful from my perspective.” Celestia cast one more glance up at the dome before nodding at a passing pony who bowed at her. “Good evening.”

Pinkie giggled. “That’s cheating! Besides, I didn’t say wonderful. I said cool. It’s different.”

Celestia arched a brow. “Can it not be both?”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to use the word ‘cool,’” Pinkie retorted.

“I will use that word when I have heard you use the word ‘meticulous’ properly,” Celestia said, grinning with a smugness Pinkie had not thought her capable of. “And no, you may not ask Twilight for help.”

“Shoot.” Pinkie giggled and pawed at the floor. “Hey, standing here nodding at everypony who walks around us is really fun, too, but do you want to go see if they have something to eat? Is Acacia gonna come along?”

“Ah, no, she will handle some other matters, but I expect she will join up with us later. All the same, I would be terrible company if I cannot arrange for some food at least.” Celestia shook her head. “Shall we?”

Pinkie nodded her assent and angled herself a little closer to Celestia, walking side by side with her as they mounted the stairs and entered into the party area proper. At least, if this was a party hall, the largest and only visible room was probably where the parties were meant to be had, but on closer inspection, Pinkie Pie couldn’t find a whole lot of it.

More ponies filtered in from outside to gather in little groups around tables and in open areas, and the ponies on the stage filled the air with the soft sounds of a piano and string instruments. Celestia led them to a relatively un-crowded food table that had lots of complicated little things Rarity would call snacks, and Pinkie would insist on protesting the definition in at least half the cases.

“Huh. This is really fancy, even for a Canterlot thingy,” Pinkie said, her gaze roaming the entire length of the table. Once she figured out what the little doughy sculptures were, and that the green stuff was spinach, it all looked good—just like how the music was nice, just insufficient. “It’s almost too fancy! Maybe it’s because it has less garden in it than the last one? Oh, and it doesn’t have any crazy bugs trying to steal our hugs by sucking them out through our snouts either!”

Celestia made a questioning little noise, hovering a delicate little slice of cake so small, Pinkie figured she could fit at least twenty in her own mouth. The second the thought left her brain and headed for her mouth, Pinkie clapped her muzzle shut. Just to be on the safe side, she put a hoof in front of her nose, too, just until she was certain it was gone.

It was a date. Celestia had specifically said she liked these kinds of things, and she needed to be at her best. It wasn’t as though Pinkie didn’t like it either. She’d barely stuck her snout inside the place and she was happy, and it didn’t matter if that was probably mostly exactly because she was on a date. She tried to be respectful of Fluttershy’s wishes, she barely ever toppled Twilight’s bookcases any more, and she tried not to wake Rainbow Dash in the middle of the night unless absolutely necessary. She could have fun without a carousel or any major explosions.

Except, Celestia had said she wanted Pinkie Pie to be herself. To be Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie sat down on the floor and stared at the snack table that had suddenly become impossible. It had a lot of delicate treats fit for a delicate mouth, but what would Pinkie Pie do in this situation? What would Pinkie Pie do about music that was merely ‘nice?’ She had absolutely no idea.

“Pinkie Pie? Are you quite alright?”

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath to stop her head from spinning. “Oh, yeah. Um. Sure! The music’s just a teensy weensy bit slow. That’s, um, all. Can ponies be allergic to pianos? I’m a little bit allergic to pianos. Yep!”

Celestia turned her head to look across the length of the entire hall. Twice, she had to smile and give her polite greetings to passing pairs of ponies, but at length she turned back to Pinkie Pie with the tiniest hint of a grin on her lips.

“Do you know, I actually agree. It could stand to be the tiniest bit less dull,” Celestia said.

That was all it took to bring the smile back to Pinkie Pie, to flush out all the silly thoughts and eclipse the worries that had begun building. Pinkie stood up and giggled, reaching over to grab two plates, one holding a selection of little cinnamon and chocolate treats, the other laden with thin cake slices.

“You want one?”

“I just had one,” Celestia said, but Pinkie wasn’t fooled. Despite her words, the princess didn’t shake her head no.

“Is this another princess thing?”

Celestia levitated over a tall glass with entirely too little fizzy whatever-it-was. She took a single sip, peering over the rim of the glass with one brow raised. “I am not sure what you mean. Most ponies here are content with eating light. It is part of the culture.”

“Well, sure, but you’re always going on about princess this and princess that!” Pinkie paused to accept the glass Celestia magicked over to her, reluctantly putting one of the food trays back onto the table so she could hold it. “It’s super confusing, because every time there’s something princesses do, there are a hundred things princesses don’t. Don’t turn into a pegasus, don’t wear a dress, wear a silly crown—aw, okay, the crown’s shiny, I guess, but...”

And again, that lingering shadow of a smile that bespoke thought. Celestia’s eyes rested on her glass. Pinkie downed her own in a single gulp, but it wasn’t so interesting as to warrant staring; it was simple bubbly pear cider with half as many bubbles as Applejack’s apple cider.

“What you need to understand is that a princess is what I am.”

“I know that, but—”

“It is part of me as much as anything else. I do not spend every moment of my life straining against my bonds wishing I, too, could grab a whole cake whenever I pleased.” Celestia smiled when Pinkie put the other plate back onto the table as well. “If I truly wanted a cake, I could have one baked, and the worst that would happen is that the palace staff would gossip. As they do.”

“Or I could teach you how to bake one!”

“Or that.” Celestia dipped her head an inch. “In fact, I am counting on that, though you may find me a frustratingly slow learner. Still, you make it sound like a princess is something you think I would rather not be.”

Pinkie rubbed a foreleg with the other. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just that everypony calls you princess all the time, but it doesn’t seem to mean a whole lot other than ‘somepony who doesn’t know how to bake a cake!’”

Celestia chuckled, nodding and smiling at another pair of ponies who approached only to turn away when they saw she was engaged in a conversation. “Some would suggest that ruling Equestria and all that comes with it is fairly meaningful. It means quite a great deal to most ponies.”

“Okay, and that.” Pinkie huffed. “But what about you? I just don’t understand why you don’t get to help decide what being a princess means instead of everypony else who thinks you shouldn’t have more cake.”

The princess in question had no reply to that. At least not immediately. All the better an excuse to show exactly what she meant. Pinkie Pie hopped off the floor and onto the snack table with as much elegance as she could muster; three out of four hooves found nice and dry spots, and she could lick the fourth one clean of punch later anyway. Her dress looked better with chocolate on it, too.

“Maybe I should be a princess!” Pinkie said, rising up to stand on two legs and bringing out her party voice. “I’m The Princess of Parties, and I declare this party super-duper boring! I demand fancier music with tubas and accordions and twice as much—no, three times as many snack tables!”

Her subjects didn’t seem very inclined to listen. Most of what she got were stares. Some were curious, far more were snooty-look-down-your-snout stares—Rarity had a fancy word for that—and the vast majority were just plain old shocked. The only one who didn’t seem to fall into any of those three group was the other princess in the room. Celestia said nothing, raising her glass for another sip, one brow raised as if asking her to go on.

“Hey, I said more noise, not less noise. You’re being creepy quiet!” Pinkie said. Even the band had stopped playing. “I was making princessly decrees here. Snacks! Music! Dancing!”

A stallion with a monocle cleared his throat and looked away. A nearby group of three mares went back to their conversation, this time in hushed whispers with occasional glances back at the party princess perched on the table. All she had achieved in her short reign was to ensure that their table was extra isolated. Pinkie Pie pouted and watched her principality dissolve before her eyes. The barely-worth-being-called-music started up again.

“That will give them something to talk about,” Celestia whispered, obviously trying very hard to conceal a grin.

Pinkie Pie hopped off the table and gave her left hindleg a shake, then a sniff. “Hm. Pineapple. Not my favorite. Oh, and yeah, I didn’t expect it to work well, but that was even worse than I thought. I guess being a princess isn’t easy after all.”

“Wisdom from experience is very valuable.” Celestia nodded. “Even so, you truly do not care at all that I am a princess, do you?”

Pinkie Pie tilted her head a perfect ninety degrees. “Huh? Sure I care!”

Celestia leaned a tiny bit closer, both brows raised. In the silence that followed, Pinkie Pie tilted her head the other way, then back again.

“And?” Celestia asked.

“And what? I care about pretty much everything, really. Your crown is really shiny and you look pretty with it on. Does that count?”

Celestia sighed, smiled and shook her head. “I suppose it will have to. While you may not be poised to redefine what it means to be a princess, will my taking a second slice of cake appease you for the moment?”

Pinkie Pie beamed and held up the chocolate cake tray, giggling when one of the slices hovered up, surrounded by a golden glow. “It’s a start.”

“Now, the next point on the royal agenda is to say hello to some of these ponies,” Celestia said, taking a bite. Apparently, princesses waited until they had chewed and swallowed before they spoke. “Would you walk with me? I am certain it will be better with two princesses than one.”

“Sure! I’m bringing the cake though.” Pinkie scratched her chin and reached out to place a particularly well-sculpted pastry on top of her head. The treat was covered in golden luster dust and made for a lovely crown. “Okay. Ready!”