There were a lot of ponies to be greeted. Pinkie Pie trailed after Celestia while the taller princess made the rounds. Everywhere they went—meaning between tables and groups so similar they might as well be the same—there were bored-looking stallions and mares who apparently needed to exchange hellos with the princess. It was no wonder they were bored if this was their definition of a party, but Pinkie Pie kept it to herself.
Pinkie also kept it to herself that they were getting a lot of odd looks. She was plenty used to it by now, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had let other ponies ruin her fun. The pauses to snack and talk with Celestia were the real fun. Pinkie never knew that Silver Jet wore a toupé, or that Top Hat actually started in the ice cream business; the princess knew a lot of funny details about the bored and boring ponies, and that certainly helped.
Only, those stares mattered the teensiest bit, now. Pinkie Pie glanced over her shoulder while Celestia shook hooves with some stallion or other, and sure enough, a unicorn stallion and mare couple were giving her a severe look that suggested maybe she’d done something wrong. It made Pinkie worry for the two seconds it took her to look back up at Celestia. The princess would have noticed. She noticed almost everything, and she didn’t seem to care.
Besides, there were far more important things to do. Pinkie Pie bit her tongue and turned on the spot, reaching out to solve a mystery that had been on her mind for far too long. Slowly her hoof quested towards its target until finally it found its mark. When she poked, she found it firm and only barely squishy, but otherwise entirely unremarkable.
“Pinkie Pie? Are you touching my flank?”
Celestia’s question was fair and all. Pinkie Pie’s hoof was, in fact, planted squarely on the princess’ cutie mark. Since that was obvious, barring any major philosophical angles, it was safe to assume that the princess wondered about the why of it.
“Oh. Sure! I mean, I am,” Pinkie said, yanking her hoof back. The stallion Celestia had been talking to made a small noise and excused himself looking particularly sour for some reason.
“See, I was talking to Rainbow Dash, and she told me that she bet your flank was really hot to the touch because it’s a sun, and I told her I bet she was wrong, because my cutie mark doesn’t taste like balloons—I checked!”
Celestia pursed her lips and said nothing, and Pinkie Pie wondered for a moment if she’d actually be angry with her. Pinkie pinned her ears back to her head and sighed.
“I don’t think she really thought so, it was probably just a prank. Applejack doesn’t taste like apples either.”
“And most would find that rather offensive or forward.” Celestia glanced back at her own side.
Pinkie Pie lowered her head and nodded, having rather little to say to that except a muttered “sorry.”
“Am I boring you?”
Pinkie Pie shook her head so fast half her curls straightened for a second. “Nuh-uh! It’s just a little silly with all this ‘hi, how are you, good bye.’ We’re not actually talking to any of these ponies. I bet they’re nice and all—”
“We may get our chance yet, a moment, please,” Celestia replied. She flashed Pinkie a brief grin that didn’t stick, turning to face a mare on the approach. Most of the others they had talked to patiently waited for the princess to come talk to them, but this pony gracefully wound her way between the tables and crowds. “Hello, Lady Glittergold.”
“Your highness,” the unicorn mare replied, dipping her head half a smidgemeter. The bright yellow pony wore even more shiny jewelry pieces than Celestia, and somehow, she managed to look down while meeting Celestia’s eyes. “It is good to see you here tonight.”
“You as well,” Celestia replied, offering a smile that was left unreciprocated. “And congratulations on opening the Starlit Dome.”
Lady Glittergold gave the barest of nods. Pinkie Pie sidled up to stand side by side with Celestia, leaning a little closer to get a good look at the shiny new pony, but the unicorn pulled back to match.
“Ah yes, thank you, thank you,” Glittergold muttered, clearing her throat. “We have been wondering about this pony who has been causing so much ruckus.”
“Fracas! I’m a specialist on those,” Pinkie Pie said, smiling brightly at the mare. Most of the other ponies they had talked to pretended Pinkie Pie didn’t exist, even those times Celestia made a point of introducing her by name. “I’m Pinkie Pie.”
Glittergold made no reply. Despite her apparent interest, her eyes were on Celestia. The princess’ reply began with a shrug.
“I believe she did just offer up her name. She is Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie, this is Lady Glittergold.”
“Hi again!” Pinkie said to absolutely no effect. Glittergold spared her the tiniest of glances, but nothing more, as if she feared looking at Pinkie Pie for extended periods of time. The constant hum of conversation lessened all around them, whispers now only half as loud as the sound of dozens of ears being bent their way.
“Quite. Is this a new protegé of yours? Or are you simply humoring her?”
Pinkie leaned in front of Celestia, trying to achieve eye contact with the silly pony. “Nope-dopey. I’m her date. It’s our first date, actually! This place must have been a real doozy to build. I bet you had to use lots of magic!”
Glittergold guffawed. She looked a little bit less bored than the other ponies with her eyes wide open. “Surely you're joking. Are you unwell? What could this pony possibly have done to deserve the right to court you?”
Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to reply, but there was really no point in trying to talk to a pony who wasn’t talking to her. She seemed nice enough, but Pinkie’d had more giving conversations with her measuring cups in the kitchen. That, and there was a rather pronounced lack of noise from the third pony in the conversation. Sometimes, silence was very loud.
Celestia had said nothing for a while now, and when Pinkie looked up at the taller princess, she saw that the ever-present easy smile—the bare minimum of smileyness that Celestia always returned to when she didn’t even feel like smiling—had failed. Her mouth was worked into a thin line and her jaw was taut.
“I am afraid I do not see the humor,” Celestia said.
Perhaps Lady Glittergold sensed the subtle wrongness. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a goldfish, but nothing came out. There was no anger in Celestia’s tone, but the princess did not so much as blink. She held the unicorn’s eyes until Glittergold gave a small bow and walked away, and it all left Pinkie Pie wondering if perhaps she herself had said something wrong.
Celestia made a motion for her to follow and led the way towards one of the many main floor exits, and suddenly the entire party hall was a different place. Where Lady Glittergold rejoined the crowd, a murmur started that spread like wildfire, a chaotic mess of whispers louder than the earlier conversations had ever been.
After what felt like an eternity of a blank-faced Celestia leading them across the floor with innumerable ponies scurrying out of the way as fast as expensive crystal glasses and fancy hats let them, the princess led them out through a set of narrow, open doors. A wide balcony with glass floor and silver railings hugged the dome, a construction barely the height of the garden maze and bushes below. There was nopony else in sight, perhaps due to the slight chill of the night, and only when she closed the door behind them did Celestia let go of that horrid un-smile. Instead, Celestia leaned against the railing, chewing her cheek. Pinkie had never before seen Celestia chew her cheek.
“This really isn’t like any party I’ve ever been to,” Pinkie said. She trotted up to put her forelegs on the railing, peering over the edge. Past the garden’s confines, she could see and hear Canterlot at night. The tangled sounds of wagon wheels and voices wasn’t all that different from Ponyville, and Pinkie was glad. It blocked out the faint susurrus from inside the dome.
“I can only hope you will forgive me. This was a terrible idea.”
“The date?” Pinkie asked, resting her head on her forelegs. If not for the fact that Celestia asking for forgiveness made no sense, she might have worried, but the princess looked downright pained.
“No. My decision-making every step of the way. I wanted to see how you acted outside your comfort zone, or indeed, if such a thing was possible. If you are ever truly outside of your comfort zone. I apologize if this was duplicitous, and it certainly took a sour turn just now.”
“What, you mean Lady Glittergold? Why?” Pinkie asked.
Celestia frowned, turning to face Pinkie in full. “I like to think I know you well enough by now to say you did not miss her implications. You know she outright insulted you.”
“Sure, but I wasn’t hurt.” Pinkie giggled and reached out to poke one of Celestia’s forelegs. “What she said was super nice for you in a creepy big sister who doesn't really know you kind of way, and that makes me happy! Well, mostly. I just hope you don’t get lots of angry letters and ponies knocking on your door to tell you they don’t like you any more.”
Celestia chuckled. “Are you worrying about the social ramifications? I think you worry more than I, and besides, the very moment this rumor reaches either Fancypants or the palace staff, it will turn around. Fancypants knows you and adores you, and he wields a lot of clout. That is not my concern.”
“You sound super concerned, though.” Pinkie reluctantly let her hoof slide off of Celestia’s leg. There were limits to how long she could leave it there, even if Celestia didn’t say anything.
“I am frustrated and annoyed because I played a game, and I failed to control it. I have enough contacts and friends in high Canterlot society, and I certainly do not need another. There was no purpose to this except to sate my own curiosity and my need to observe tradition. That you have not run off or perished from sheer boredom already is very flattering, but I still erred.”
Celestia gave a long sigh and cupped Pinkie’s muzzle with a hoof, raising it up to make Pinkie Pie look back at her. “Understand that I only did this because you interest me in many ways. I do not know how else to put it or how to explain how special this makes you.”
Pinkie Pie nuzzled into the hoof and smiled. It really was quite simple. “S’okay. I understand.”
And still the princess looked no less frustrated. Pinkie pursed her lips and crossed her forelegs. “Will it be okay if I say I forgive you, and that it’s okay, especially if we can hang out at my couch next time? And it’s super okay if there will be a next time, because I’m having fun ‘cause you’re here.”
Finally Celestia gave up her frown and laughed, nodding her assent. “I think that is an acceptable compromise. I may just leave my regalia at the palace and have a dress made for the occasion of sitting on your couch eating pastries. I do not take my own failures lightly, but I will get over this.”
“Marshmallows,” Pinkie said. “We’re having marshmallows.”
“Marshmallows, then.”
An if had become a when. An unspoken maybe had become a yes. Pinkie wasn’t usually one for silence, but it seemed as good a time as any to be happy and quiet for a second, just like the sharp intake of breath after opening a particularly amazing present. Rather than jump or scream or cheer, she put all her happiness into a smile while she turned her eyes skywards.
Pinkie had seen her share of stars. Part of it was because she tried to stay awake for as long as she could to best have as much fun as possible, and another part of it was that moon cookies could only really be baked at night, offering her plenty time to sit watching the night sky while they baked. Tonight was different. The sky was alive with a million glittering points, each clearly distinguishable from the others, the moon almost forgettable in a sea of tiny suns.
“Gosh, the stars are super bright tonight—ooh, I think I saw a shooting star! And there’s another!”
“A meteor shower. My sister did say she intended to put some extra effort into tonight on account of the occasion. I will have to thank her.” Celestia snuck an inch closer to Pinkie Pie and reached out with a wing to cover her back. It was the warmest, fluffiest blanket Pinkie had ever had, so she didn’t bother admitting she wasn’t really that cold on account of her dress.
“That’s really nice of her. So she likes me?” Pinkie asked.
Celestia laughed. “You doubt it? You have met her many times before, and she is still grateful for your part in helping her readjust last nightmare night. She loves you all.” The princess rolled her jaw and tore her eyes off the glittering stars in the sky, and Pinkie was all too happy to look back into those two pretty purple stars instead.
“It is what you do, is it not?” Celestia asked. “You win the hearts of everypony, somehow. Yet still they would wonder. What gives you the right, as if it needed justification. Does it?”
“Yep. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pinkie said. “Wait, you mean what Lady Shinyface said?”
Celestia’s acquiescence came in the form of a nod and another pensive silence. The princess said nothing until she’d sat down, and Pinkie didn’t bother to interrupt her for fear that her precious wing-blanket would go away. Celestia scarcely seemed to even remember Pinkie was there, her eyes fastened on the horizon where it was indivisible from the night sky if not for the stars. A comfortable silence gave way to a regular brand boring silence, which in turn became a slightly scary one. It was very hard not to think she might suddenly know what it was Celestia meant after all.
“Does it matter?” Pinkie asked, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Or, um, can the answer suddenly be ‘nope, no princess for Pinkie Pie?’”
Celestia jerked to, just the tiniest bit. She abruptly shifted where she sat, as if somepony had jabbed her in the ribs or suddenly reminded her that her cookies were getting burnt. The princess pony stared down at Pinkie with mouth half open and eyes wide, and while she was quick to school her features again, her voice shook just the tiniest bit.
“No! No, I—well. I am terrible at this. I did not mean to give you cause for concern,” she said, sighing so deeply, her wing pulled Pinkie a little closer. “That is not what I am saying, nor was that my point. Please believe that.”
Pinkie shrugged and leaned against Celestia in full, smiling when the princess didn’t protest. She angled her muzzle along Celestia’s body, peering up at her. “Believing! Why’re you being all mopey then?”
“I am not.” Celestia gave a noiseless chuckle that Pinkie felt but did not hear. “I simply wonder what roads brought us here. It is not respect or a lack thereof. I thought so, once, but it is not the case. You do not treat me any differently from others, but that alone does not explain it. You treat me like a pony, not like a princess, for which I am grateful. Gratefulness does not a relationship make, but it helps.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “I treat you pretty differently from how I treat Applejack and Twilight and everypony else. Sure, I poke and hug and boop noses, but we’re just friends, you know.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Not quite my point, but I am glad to hear that. I do not think I am ready for competition.”
Pinkie shrugged and closed her eyes, content to lay snug and warm like this.
“And you make me think,” Celestia said.
“Silly, you’re super smart, I bet you think all the time!”
“Not about the right things, I find. I mean our earlier conversation about being a princess. I stand by what I said: being a princess is part of who I am, of who I need to be, but you make me wonder if it is that simple. All my subjects make me wish to be the best I can be, because I want what is best for all of Equestria. You?” Celestia paused, only continuing when Pinkie opened her eyes and looked back up at her.
“You make me wish to smile, too. You make me wonder if I cannot be both who I need to be, and who I want to be. If I cannot be a princess, Princess Celestia, and Celestia all at once. That alone is reason enough twice over, but it lacks one final thing to make the full truth.”
Pinkie tilted her head, taking care not to enjoy too much the fact that it rubbed her head against the soft coat of Celestia’s side. “What’s that?”
“Because you dared.”
Pinkie’s cheeks glowed the tiniest bit. At least, she assumed they did. One of the many advantages of her coloration was that other ponies could never tell, but she felt a little warm from what had unmistakably been a lot of very nice words about her. There was only one natural answer and counter-question.
“Does that mean I can ask if you maybe want to hug now? I know you asked when we were on that ride in Wandering Wonderland and everything, but I’ve been dying to ask for a real hug that is an actual I-think-you’re-kinda-cute hug and not a we’re-friends-let’s-make-it-better hug.”
“All things considered, I think that would be a nice conclusion to this date,” Celestia said, a small sigh escaping her lips. “But it strikes me as a crime that you should have to be the one to always ask. That you should doubt I would want a hug.” She released the wing that had been covering Pinkie Pie, unfurling it in full to shield them from whomever might be looking out from inside the dome that Pinkie had quite frankly almost forgotten about.
Celestia lowered her head and reached out with the other wingtip to raise Pinkie’s muzzle up until their snouts touched. Those beautiful purple eyes were different now, cut off from much of the light. They still sparkled, but when Celestia leaned in close, she was both the same and a different creature entirely. Her voice was low and the faint rumble made Pinkie’s heart tingle. Celestia’s breath smelled of pears.
“I am rusty,” she said, leaning to touch their foreheads together. “I am a creature of old habits and customs, and for all my words, I sometimes find myself struggling to find the right ones when it comes to you. This I know regardless: I would kiss you now.”
Perhaps she had known. Perhaps she hadn’t. Now that Pinkie knew she knew, it was the simplest thing in the world to tilt her head and part her muzzle to kiss a princess. For a tiny moment, the world was mint, watermelon, pear cider and chocolate cake. Celestia’s lips touched hers for what would never be long enough, an event cursed to always be an electric instant.
Pinkie opened her eyes when Celestia drew back. She was keenly aware of her own breath coming almost painfully fast. It was as good a time as any to go for the hug as well. She wrapped her forelegs around Celestia’s body and held her tight to stop her body from shivering, and the cold had nothing to do with it. Celestia’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths as well.
“Maybe I was a tiny bit nervous,” Pinkie said. Celestia had said nothing, but the kiss drew the words forth. “A teensy bit. Maybe possibly sort of. I just didn’t want to say it. Or think it. Or feel it.” Another shiver, stronger this time. Pinkie sniffled, and she didn’t know why. The world was a wonderfully soft and fluffy place, twice as much when Celestia draped both wings around her to hold her tighter.
“If you have concerns, speak them so that I may help,” Celestia said, nuzzling the top of her head.
“I don’t know!” A giggle escaped Pinkie’s lips, a wholly inappropriate sound, but there it was. “I just kept worrying I’d said something wrong all the time, but then you said you wanted me to be Pinkie Pie, and suddenly that was the hardest thing in the world.”
Celestia craned her neck to look upon Pinkie Pie. There was no trace of humor in her voice. “If and when you say something ‘wrong,’ trust me to let you know. I know I can trust you to listen, just like how I will never take your concerns lightly, either.”
Pinkie nodded and sighed a happy little sigh, burying her snout in Celestia’s mane. The ethereal, colorful hair felt a lot like anypony elses’ mane, only softer. Possibly a little princessy-er, too.
“Maybe, but words are really hard. Sometimes you can say the wrong thing and think it’s the right thing to say, and sometimes, you can say the right thing and think it’s the wrong thing, and worst of all, sometimes saying nothing at all or anything at all is wrong, too!” Pinkie pouted and rubbed her muzzle against the side of Celestia’s neck. “And sometimes things that’re supposed to always be nice and polite are completely wrong. Like goodbye. I had a really nice time tonight, but I hate it when you say goodbye.”
Celestia chuckled and eased her wing-grip on Pinkie a little. “Well, I have not said it quite yet, and the night is still young. If you truly bear me no ill will after this little misstep, I know of one place that is still open at this time.”
“The problem with this one is that it pretends to be based on a true story when it is in fact pure fantasy.” Celestia gave a derisive snort. “If you have created a work entirely of your own mind’s design, why not celebrate it rather than present a lie any filly with a library card can disprove?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged and grabbed another hoof-ful of popcorn, leaning back in her seat. One of the many benefits of renting an entire movie theater was that nopony yelled at you when you talked a lot. Rows upon rows of seats stood empty with the exception of one familiar unicorn far in the back. Acacia had insisted on joining them, and Pinkie wouldn’t have minded half as much if she didn’t sit there watching her like a hawk on no-smooch patrol. Perhaps she just didn’t like The Return of Krastos as much as she’d hoped?
Celestia hovered up another helping of popcorn, pausing to flick an errant kernel off of Pinkie’s dress. “Besides, if they wish to make something authentic, there is no shortage of real horrors to choose from. The Krastos series has become increasingly dull since Krastos Strikes Back.”
“You’ve watched Krastos Strikes Back?”
“I have a sister.” Celestia shrugged. “There are limits to how many hours siblings can spend bonding over staring off into the horizon while talking about eternity. She suggested weekly movie nights in the palace theater.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Aw, but still, that one was great! The part where Supermare swooped down to save all those ponies from the glue pit was amazing!”
Celestia frowned and indicated the screen ahead of them. “Precisely, and here we have Batmare doing practically the exact same thing! It has worn thin. It may be too early to make movies about Queen Chrysalis or King Sombra, but what about the Smooze? If ponies visited the history section of library they would find no shortage of real villains.”
“Ooh, I think he’s gonna get it this time. Batmare’s gonna get Krastos!” Pinkie sat up, spilling her popcorn all over the floor, but the princess looked rather more skeptical. Half a minute later, Pinkie slinked down into her seat with a fresh pout. “Aw, shoot. Maybe next time. Wait, why’re so many of the bad guys and girls queens and kings, anyway?”
“Now there is a story that could be a trilogy of movies,” Celestia muttered. “If you are truly interested, I am sure I can explain it one day, but I would need to visit the royal library to refresh my memory on parts of it.”
“Sure. Ooh. Iron Mare’s entering the fray!”
Only when the end credits rolled around did Pinkie manage to tear her eyes off the screen. Granted, the rest of her body was busily leaning against Celestia, and the princess retaliated by draping a wing around her, but she’d been mysteriously quiet again. Celestia easily did enough thinking for both of them combined.
“Didn’t you like the movie? You look like you’re about to give it a four out of ten.”
Celestia smiled, shook her head, and stretched her neck. “I am not in the habit of rating things so simply, but I enjoyed it. I was just thinking about you. We keep talking about me and mine, about all that I do and do not, but for somepony who enjoys attention so much, you certainly love giving that attention away, too.”
“Aw, that’s no biggie. Throwing a party for yourself isn’t half as fun as throwing it for others! I throw dozens of birthday parties for Gummy every year just because it’s way more fun than a ‘Pinkie wants to see her friends’ party! If they actually started counting them, they’d realize Gummy’s not really two hundred and sixty years old yet.”
Celestia laughed. “I am sure. I do not mean to sound, ah, needy, but what I mean is, I have to wonder. Why me? I am coming to learn who you are, but I do not know the answer to that one question.”
Pinkie Pie scratched her forehead, trying to wrap her brain around what was really a rather silly not-a-question. “Huh. It must be really hard.”
“I am not sure I follow.”
“You think so much about what and why and all that! I’m happiest when I just do stuff!” Pinkie rose to stand and leaned over the edge of her seat to lick up a few bits of popcorn, munching away while she spoke. “You make me really happy and warm and tingly when you’re close, and I’ve never felt like that before. You’re super nice, you’re cute, and you say lots of smart things that aren’t even a little bit boring. When you smile, I smile, and I’m still working away at that!”
The princess nodded very slowly. “It is one way to look at it.”
“And you? You keep hanging out with me and you say you like me, so I guess you like me!” Pinkie hopped off her seat to stand before Celestia, looking up at her with the biggest smile she could manage. Celestia returned it without hesitation.
“You do not even know what insecurities are, do you?”
“Sure I do!” Pinkie said. “Should I have them now?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t.”
Celestia leaned forward to touch her snout to Pinkie’s, and Pinkie couldn’t help but direct a grin towards the back where she knew the ninja attendant nanny lurked.
“Sometimes I wonder if there should be a royal philosopher position just for you,” Celestia said. “At other times, I suspect you simply talk a lot, and that it is inevitable you spout sage wisdom from time to time.”
“Potato, tomato,” Pinkie giggled. “Wanna go grab a donut before I head home? We’re still going out again, right?”
“I demand it,” Celestia said. Her smile widened into a broad grin even as she spoke, drawing herself up to her full height. “In fact, as a princess, I decree it.”