Silence.
Darkness. You feel it twisting around your hooves, wrapping itself, serpentine and cold against your skin, caressing with a dangerous air about it, as though it might coalesce into a form more corporeal and strangle you in your helpless state. Where are you? You're floating, falling, flying...the air is warm but not cool, for lack of a better description, it feels like you're trapped in a sea of nothingness. Your eyes blink but you see nothing, you tentatively stick your tongue out, expecting some sort of sensation, but you taste naught but the exhalation of your steady, slow breath. What should you do?
1:Call out to somepony.
2:This is a dream, I'm going to slap myself awake.
3:This is a dream, if I kill myself I'll just shock myself awake.
1: You call out your name. You call out a whole host of other names, and you catch yourself in surprise. You don't know any of the beings that you just named off the top of your head. And now, when you try and recall those names that fell so heavily and confidently from your lips like overripe fruit, they elude you, on the edge of your mind's reach, like a distant recollection of infancy. The darkness soothes you, calms your nerves, and before you can tackle the conundrum that has just presented itself before you, that, too, slips from your mind as you feel a soft, cushioned surface beneath you. You smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and as the darkness slowly parts before your eyes, you find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. The rhythmic trundle of the carriage jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The veil twitches as she smiles, and addresses you.
2: You hit yourself, square in the jaw, and as soon as the electric jolt of pain begins to pass through your system, it fades away, as though it never happened. You rub your jaw tentatively, and decide it would be a great idea to hit it again, this time harder and with more force. However this time the infinite darkness intervenes, stopping your hoof from touching your face, and you frown. You try again, but this time aiming for your own groin. And just as you swing, you the darkness fades, and you smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and as the murk slowly parts from before your eyes, you find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. Also, with the darkness gone, there is nothing stopping you from swinging your hoof directly into your genital area with the force of a fully grown pony. You double over in pain, as the impact jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The only visible part of her face, her eyes, are crinkled with amusement. She however collects herself quickly, and addresses you.
3: What a bold decision. Your Courage increases by 5 points. You stick your tongue out again, intending to bite it out, when a realization reveals itself to you. If this is a dream, what if you end up biting your own tongue off in real life? At the thought of the real world, your own mind is as cloudy as the monsoon season; you don't remember who you are, what you do, and how you even got here in the first place. You want answers, and you're determined to get them. And as though you willed it, you feel a surface beneath you, soft and cushioned, and as the darkness slowly parts before your eyes, you smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. The rhythmic trundle of the carriage jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The veil twitches as she smiles, and addresses you.
"Welcome, honored guest, to the Velvet Room." Her voice is sweet and silky smooth, like melted white chocolate.
You try to speak, however you cannot. You can only remain silent, seated in the carriage as it travels through a never-ending emerald plain, captive beneath a canopy of the brightest stars you ever did see. The mysterious pony offers you a tray, and upon it lies a cup of tea and a selection of biscuits. You accept warily, and sip at your drink. It is every bit as delicious as it feels real, and you slurp down your cup and munch up your sugar-crusted biscuit in seconds. Your companion seems to find this amusing, and she giggles rather innocently, her thin, silken veil quivering with the expression of mirth.
"Would you like an explanation as to why you are here?"
You nod fervently, biscuit crumbs still loitering at the corners of your mouth. She takes your empty teacup, and refills it for you from a teapot she conjures out of thin air, and dispels with an equal amount of grace and effortlessness. She smiles and urges you to drink your tea slowly to enjoy the flavor, and continues her initial train of conversation, upon gazing at your expectant and somewhat confused stare.
"The Velvet Room is...how should I say...a breach between reality and fantasy, between worlds, universes and dimensions. It always takes a different form, as do its attendants, however, it only shows itself to those who possess a certain..." She looks you up and down, from ears to tail. You blush slightly beneath her scrutinizing gaze. "Quality. Qualities that I believe you possess."
Upon finishing your second cup of tea, a warm feeling begins to spread out from your tummy, all the way up to your throat. You can speak! You ask the strange mare what these "qualities" happen to be, however she does not have an answer for you, instead she stares off into the distance cryptically, frustrating you a little. This carries on for a full five minutes, and before the silence in the room starts to become too unbearable for you, she replies.
"I do not know."
You echo her words incredulously, and she refills your teacup again, slightly absent-mindedly. The spout of tea gushing out the pot hits the cushion you have been hugging for comfort, and if it weren't there, she would have poured boiling hot tea straight onto your extremities. You silently praise the cushion, a tasseled, patchwork, very fluffy miracle. The mare apologizes, and wipes down your pillow with the corner of her frilly layered dress, before resuming the aura of cryptic calm that you are slowly getting accustomed to.
"That is true. I do not know why individuals like you are brought to the Room. I only know that individuals that live up to their potential, assisted by this Room's help end up finding true happiness. And that is a goal that I am most happy to see anyone achieve."
She waves her hoof, and your pink flowery friend, the teacups and the biscuits vanish in a puff of rose-scented smoke. You're almost sad to see them go, but your lamentations are cut short when the mare addresses you directly, and for the first time, you notice that her eyes are an uncannily bright shade of gold, gleaming in the semi dark of the Velvet Room carriage. Her expression is hard to read, no doubt made harder by the veil concealing half her features. But beneath the veil and through the fierceness of her eye contact, you know somewhere deep down that she genuinely means what she says.
"This is for you. To remember your first time here by, and to reach the Room should you ever require our help."
From within the folds of her dress, she produces a strange key. It is golden and notched, and she presses it insistently into your hoof.
"The time will come soon enough when you will realize how to use it." She smiles wryly, and her voice lowers to an almost seductive purr.
"And when you do, you will return here of your own accord, and we will talk again, perhaps of matters more important than the ones that present itself before you at this present moment."
The carriage rumbles to a halt, and the door opens. Before you step out, into the field beneath the starry night, you turn around to look at the mare one last time. Many questions, queries rise up and stick in your throat, but in your confused state you only manage to hurriedly and slightly awkwardly blurt out one. She doesn't seem to mind the delivery of your question, and she merely smiles, and answers, as she carriage slowly rides away, throwing up a small cloud of dust.
"My name?"
She ponders this ominously for a moment.
Call me Shelle.
You wake with a violent start, hissing as a sunbeam hits you straight in the sleepy face. What time is it? Midday? The ground beneath you is shaking with an all-too-familiar rhythm...Could it be? You stand up abruptly with a smack of your hooves, spilling the coffee you had in your lap and startling the other passengers of the train you are on.
You ninny.
In any case, you collect your wits about yourself and ponder the ramifications of the strange dream you just had, while sitting down again slowly and trying to not look like too much of an oaf. What that one old pony at the station had said about the unpleasant side effects of consuming railway bourbon and railway sandwiches at the same time echoes in your ears. In fact, you can almost hear him snickering away at your current predicament. Oh, wait.
You can.
Because he's right next to you.
"Bad dream?" He laughs, offering you his handkerchief to dry off your violently coffee-stained luggage. You then notice your violently coffee-stained luggage, and proceed to have a conniption fit.
"What's the matter, kid?"
1: MY CLOTHES!
2: MY WEAPONS!
3: MY PRINCESS LUNA ACTION FIGURES!
1: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage all over the floor of your cubicle, obsessively scanning your varied and sexually deviant wardrobe for any sort of coffee-induced marring. You unfold and refold your tuxedoes, and sniff at your fashionable Twin Sisters(tm) underwear for any signs at its transformation into a roasty, toasty, java-scented abomination. Finding no such faults, you heave a sigh of relief and turn to your aged companion, who has the most insufferable smirk on his face. The nerve! Twin Sisters(tm) pantyhose is all the rage back home! Shame on his unfashionable geriatric soul! Charm +5.
2: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage (Which you had managed to barely sneak past railroad security under the pretense that you were a 'Dragon Dentist'), all over the floor of your cubicle with a cacophony of metallic clanging. You grimace as you realize that one of your shortswords is completely soaked (Just how strong WAS that coffee?!) and you contemplate licking it clean. For one, that would make you look like a very unconvincing psychotic serial killer of coffee mugs and their families, and two, it would also make you look like a complete asshat. Then again, you don't really care about looking like either, so you place your lips to the cold steel, and carefully scour the surface of the blade with your tongue. Your gaze pans across the room while you do so, daring anypony to judge you while you clean your holy of holies. A mare covers her little colt's eyes, and a baby filly begins to cry. And that young mare sitting in the corner is...Wait, is she writing down her address on her foreleg for you? You grin with coffee-stained teeth, as your Courage increases by 5.
3: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage all over the floor of your cubicle and for a moment, time halts for you as you lovingly gaze upon your collection of Princess Luna memorabilia. There isn't a lot of it, most of your stash having only been manufactured in the past few months for a publicity stint, but you don't care. You smile dreamily as Tickle-Me-Luna and Beach Luna smile right back at you. You gather up a few of your Princess of the Night T-Shirts, a little suspicious of the chocolate-colored one, as you have absolutely no idea whether it's been soiled or not. Nevertheless, you somehow inexplicably fit all twenty-seven collectible figurines, five T-shirts and body-length Luna Snuggle Pillow into your tiny suitcase, but not before giving said pillow a huge squeeze. You are a creep. But a knowledgeable one at least, and as your geriatric aquaintance stares at you in thinly veiled revulsion, your Finesse increases by 5.
You pack the last few items into your luggage, lock it up, and give it a few good stomps with your hoof to make sure it doesn't burst open. And fearing the hot beverage-related hazards of the real world, you hastily stow away your luggage in the overhead carriage, smiling as naturally as you can, as if half the train didn't just see your hyperventilating, frenzied rescue mission of your personal belongings. All is well, you think, and you slink back into your seat next to the old pony.
"You're one strange young...ma...co...Excuse me, young pony, but are you a boy or a girl?"
"I get that a lot. Guess."
Your response is deadpan, and you try to keep a straight face as you quietly observe the spires and alabaster columns of the shimmering city of Canterlot slide into view from behind a monolith of gray, a welcome sight among five hours of nothing but tunnels, grassy fields and dreams of grassy fields. You shiver a little in anticipation, and your hoof subconsciously raises itself to your coat pocket, where your invitation card lies secure. A faint smile graces your lips, which blooms into a full blown grin as the excitement of what is in store for you takes your heart by storm.
"I'm Oak," The old pony says, not that you had asked, breaking you out of your delightful trance. You nod slowly, unsure of where he's going with this. If he turns out to be another one of those Encyclopaedia Equestria salesponies, you think to yourself, you are going to throw him out the train window and jump out after him, screaming bloody murder. Seventeen is enough for one weekend. You scan his luggage overhead for any signs of objects even vaguely reminiscent of encyclopaedii. After seeing that the only things he has on his person are two slim red books, hardly of encyclopaedia level thickness, you turn back to him to tune back in to his lengthy explanation as to who he is and what he does. You sigh and smile a bit wearily. Canterlot's already in sight, you might as well listen to what the chap has to say.
"I'm a professor," He says brightly, his hazel eyes positively gleaming behind his glasses. "I study creatures and mythical monsters in Equestria, and Princess Celestia has summoned me to court to present my findings to her group of advisors!" He smiles kindly, and you can see that clearly, this old pony must be very informed to be granted an audience with the Princess's elite minds. "But that's enough about me, kid, what's your name? What do you do for a living around these parts?"
You're obviously not going to tell him your real name, that would be middle-school levels of dumb. You swallow, and take a deep breath.
"I'm..."
1: Twilight Sparkle.
2: The Reaper.
3: The very best, like nopony ever was.
1: "Good afternoon. My name is Twilight Sparkle," You tell Oak, eliciting a rather unpredictable response in the elderly gent. He instantly drops to his knees and grovels, a look of horror upon his aged features.
"Oh, Princess Twilight," He simpers. "It is truly an honor to meet you in the flesh! A thousand apologies for my earlier behavior, I did not recognise you! You look so different in person than you do in the newspapers, I did not realize-" This is fun. You decide to let the quivering professor kiss your hooves, while you pretend to issue a royal pardon upon him, mainly consisting of you waving your hoof over his head and making swooshing noises with your mouth. He seems to buy it, and gets up at your command, dusting off his worn lab coat. Reaching overhead, he takes down one of the red books stowed away in the shelf above him, and hands it to you. "It's not much," He says, "But take it. It is one of two copies of my compendium of monster information, and I hope your Highness may accept this humble gift in compensation for my earlier misconduct." You accept his gift as graciously as a Princess would, placing the little ledger inside your coat and touching his forehead gently. You dub him a Knight, and he bows thrice more as the train screeches to a halt, and gathering his wits and the last remaining book, Oak scrambles out the train, tail tucked between his hind legs. You truly are a Grade-A sociopath. A convincing one, nonetheless. Your Courage increases by 5, and you get a new item, Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
2: Oak is aghast, and he edges away from you slightly. "The...Reaper? As in, the adventurer?" He pauses, lost for words. "What business might you have in Canterlot?" He glances from side to side, and shakes his head, as though there were flies buzzing around it. "Never mind, forget I asked." He lowers his voice to a conspirational whisper. "Personally, I'd like to thank you, Mister Reaper. Without your exploits, I'd never be able to obtain the samples of Hydra venom or Fae saliva to properly analyze for my compendium. You could say I'm a bit of a fan, really." He rolls up his sleeve to show a poorly, probably self-done tattoo of your cutie mark on his forearm. You pity the poor soul, your cutie mark isn't exactly the most pleasant or simple one to have tattooed on one's forearm. In fact, it's even a bit of a stretch to call it a Cutie mark. Nonetheless, you deal with this professionally, and after ascertaining your identity by showing him your cutie mark and autographing both of his red books, Oak hands you one reverently. "None of this would have been possible without you, Reaper. Here, you may already know most of this, but it may come in handy nonetheless." As the train screeches to a halt, Oak puts the remaining, now autographed ledger within the depths of his ratty lab coat, and winks at you as he walks away from Canterlot Station. "Good luck, adventurer, and happy hunting." Your Charm increases by 5 as you get a new item, Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
3: Oak frowns at you, as though he'd heard those words before. "Strange..." He muses.
"You remind me strongly of a friend of my grandson's. A friend I am also on the way to meet, in fact. But forgive the ramblings of an old pony. Such familiarity is precious in this changing world, and for that, I think you deserve a present. I believe you are destined for interesting things, strange young pony. And I'm not just talking about the contents of your luggage." You start a little, as Shelle's words echo in your mind once more.
"Potential," She had said.
Oak brings down his two red books from the overhead shelf, and you very consciously flex your throwing hoof. So he WAS an encyclopaedia salesman! However, the train has stopped, and a half-meter fall from the window to the platform wouldn't be very lethal. Maybe the broken glass might...? However, Oak offers you a book for free, and you gleefully accept, all too happy not to be regaled with the Ten Thousand Reasons Why You Can't Live Without an Encyclopaedia and a hefty pricetag to boot. Without another word, Oak leaves the train with the remaining book, smiling over his shoulder at you as he departs with the pony that had met him at the platform: A young stallion, with a striking red cap. Your resolve to become better, better than nopony ever was, suddenly spikes, as your Finesse increases by 5 and you bag a new item, the Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
Canterlot Station is as busy as it is loud. You drag your luggage through the crowd, spilling a few drinks and stepping on a few hooves as you go. You flash the ticket in your pocket, and murmur your name, and the guardsponies let you through to the city, your purpose clear to them. You are here in Canterlot on business: Very serious business. Your objectives are simple, and you have absolutely every intention of following it through.
A heated toothy grin fueled by impure thoughts dimples your cheeks.
You are to spend an entire day and night with Princess Celestia and Luna, who have taken a day off just for you, the winner of their newly installed newspaper competition, where one lucky winner every year gets to spend an entire day and night in the company of two of the most drop-dead gorgeous ponies in all of Equestria. You wonder to what extent "company" adheres to. Sure enough, meals and games were guaranteed, but what about baths? What about sleeping? You drool at the thought of Celestia and Luna's hooves wrapped warmly about your body as they slumber next to you in Celestia's double king-sized bed, dressed in negligee you've only ever seen in Playcolt magazines and your hormone-addled dreams as a teenager. Suddenly, you wish the word "company" was completely omitted from the details of your winnings, leaving behind a much more desirable senten-
Okay, you should really get going.
Besides, you think to yourself, as you walk off in the general direction of the castle, what you were getting was more than most ponies ever got in a lifetime.
Canterlot Castle is really far away.
At a local coffee lounge, you figure that the postcard company was a part of some misogynistic, misanthropic sadist organization that decided to make Canterlot Castle look like it was two steps away from the train station in their little oblong placards of doom, whereas in actual fact, you've been walking for about two hours, and you're still less than halfway there. You panic a little inside and wonder if your late arrival will mean Celestia and Luna slashing off time from your period of togetherness. You imagine showing up to the castle, with the moon already peeking over the horizon, and being told that your time's up by the Royal Pony Sisters themselves. You can almost hear the drawbridge slamming shut, tears in your eyes as you hear Celestia and Luna head up to a bedroom and their vulgar, passionate exclamations of pleasure as they vigorously fornicate. Without you.
The horror. The terrible, sexless horror.
Your libido and determination shoot through the roof as you pay the waitress for your hastily-gulped down drink, with a pained and constipated look on your face as you wrestle with your inner demon for control of the voice in your loins, and dash off, upsetting two tables and a chair as you go. The other patrons of the lounge give you disapproving looks, while a single colt, who recognizes the particular type of agony written on your face, pumps his hoof and yells encouragement at you. Ironically, this is the only colt in the lounge with his marefriend with him.
With more adrenaline pumping through your veins than a hamster on steroids, you eventually make it to Canterlot, albeit in a sweating, crumpled mess in front of the gates. Hardly an impressive first impression, however at this point you're just glad you managed to make it this far. You hand the guard closest to you your credentials and your winning ticket, and he lets you through, though somewhat warily, as "Dragon Dentist", "Mercenary" and for some reason only you can explain, "Apprentice Pastry Chef" are among other oddities in your job history. And before you can even go to the toilet sixteen times to fix your mane in the mirror and practice your greeting, Princess Celestia walks out through the great double doors towards you, and your first instinct is to run for the hills. She's as beautiful as you've imagined, and more: She seems to have dolled herself up just for your arrival. Her ethereal mane is pleated into a thick plait threaded with gold ribbon, and...is that lipstick? Eyeliner? Is that a dress she's wearing? And at that moment, you think your heart must have stopped for a few seconds. And it probably did, because when you look up, Celestia is standing right next to you, and the two of you are already walking through one of the opulent, painting lined hallways of Canterlot Castle. Dazed, you ask, "Did...did I greet you right?"
Celestia turns down to you, and smiles, shortening your time between now and a fatal heart attack by a few years. "Yes, you did wonderfully, however it wasn't something you didn't have to worry about in the first place. After you got up after tripping twice over your own suitcase, that is."
You're not even beginning to question where your luggage is, for you're still too busy trying to psychokinetically set yourself on fire. The two of you proceed down the hallway towards wherever Celestia is taking you, exchanging pleasantries along the way, or at least, pleasantries on her end, and nervous, shaky nods on yours. You mentally slap yourself; Celestia's probably already noticed your nervousness by now, and you were trying to leave a cool impression on her from the moment you stepped off that dreadful train. Fat chance of that happening now, you mutter, as you follow Celestia into a room through a pair of great oaken double doors.
An irresistable aroma wafts through the air towards you, and it's not just Celestia's perfume. Before you is a dinner table, heavy with platters upon platters of assorted food, ranging from salads to soups, snacks and desserts. Magical candles float back and forth along the table, the spectral flames burning in the mane colors of Celestia, Luna, and with no small amount of shock, you realize: yours. Sharply dressed maid and butler ponies stand at attention like sentinels at every corner of the room. Celestia takes her seat at the head of the table and beckons for you to sit. You take the seat closest to her, only for a maid pony to exclaim loudly in an annoyingly high-pitched whine.
"Excuse me, but that seat-"
She was silenced with a gesture from Celestia, who smiles wryly at you.
"No, Feather Duster, let our guest sit next to me. Besides, I want to see how she will react to this."
You sit yourself down, and notice how ridiculously comfortable the chair is. You could sleep in the thing, and from that day on, your bed would never feel the same again. Celestia notices your comfort, and seems to be pleased that you're finally loosening up around her. She lowers her gaze to her food, and then to you, silently requesting for you to take the first bite. After all, you are her guest. You lick your lips, and reach for your utensils: It would only be proper for a guest of royalty to act the part, no? You look down at the purple napkin in front of you, and the world promptly crashes around your ears.
Why do you have four forks? What is this, six spoons? FIVE KNIVES WHAT IS THIS ARGH-You calm yourself down, and stare at the torturer's armory in front of you. Alright. Forks. You want to have some pancake. So you have to pick a fork. Ruling out the fork with serrated edges you assume is for ending the misery of any of your foods that happens to be still alive, you have three fork choices. Which will you choose?
1: The thick, two-tined fork.
2: The slim, three-tined fork.
3: The fork with the word "Pancakes" ominously engraved on it. (Requires Courage 10)
1: You pick up the two-tined fork, and begin eating your pancakes with it. The pancakes are delicious, served with fresh jam and creamy butter, and you nervously look over to Celestia to see if you're doing things right. Celestia is eating her pancakes with...you guessed it, a two-tined fork! She stops eating for a moment, and smiles at you, waving with her two-tined fork. You blush, looking down at your food, and take a big bite of pancake, immensely pleased with yourself. Finesse increases by 5.
2: You pick up the three-tined fork, and begin eating your pancakes with it. The pancakes are delicious, served with fresh jam and creamy butter, and you nervously look over to Celestia to see if you're doing things right . Wait, her fork isn't anywhere near her mouth! Instead, said fork, impaled through several layers of fluffy pancake, is presented before you in a yellow telekinetic grip, while Celestia smiles from her seat. "You aren't eating your pancakes with our homemade syrup. It's really quite good, my little pony. Try some?" Holy sweet mother of all that is holy. Celestia, the latter mother, is feeding you. Pancakes. You bite the pancakes off her fork, chewing slowly, enjoying the flavor as your mind gets to work, burning the memory into every single orifice of your mind. You can die happy now, you think to yourself, as you reluctantly swallow, ending the beautiful moment. This act has increased your confidence, as you can now walk the streets and brag that once, you were forked by a Princess. And if you slur that one word just a little, you might be able to get even more awe out of your captive audience. Your Courage increases by 5.
3: "You have a fork labeled Pancakes? Is that even necessary?" You state incredulously, brandishing the offending utensil in front of your face. Celestia looks genuinely confused. "Here, pass it over." You hand the fork to Celestia, who turns the fork over in her telekinesis, wearing a pensive expression. "I see." She hands the fork over to one of the maid ponies. "Lolita, send this back to the kitchen. It appears Pancake Batter has been mixing up his belongings again." Celestia looks apologetically at you, and levitates a fork from her own menagerie of eating equipment to you. "Here, you can use my pancake fork." Sure enough, the fork has the word "Pancakes" engraved on it as well, except in gold, with the "A"s stylized to resemble Celestia's cutie mark. You stare in disbelief at the implement, and slowly start eating your breakfast. Celestia winks at you out of the corner of your eye, and you feel like you've suddenly become the butt of a macabre joke. Nevertheless, your forthrightness in pointing out the inefficacy of the Pancake Fork has amused Celestia, and hence, your Charm increases by 5 points.
"Sho," Celestia says through a mouth of French toast. She catches herself, swallows, and continues. You don't notice her slip-up; you're too busy dismembering your bacon with Knife Three and Fork Two. "So, I hear you're an adventurer by trade?"
"Adventurer" might be pushing it a little, you explain. You like to call yourself an "Exotic Pest Exterminator", because it sounds less ridiculous to you than the cliched, storybook archetype of the ubiquitous "Adventurer". You specialize in the removal of troublesome mythical beasts and animals, at least those that can't be taken care of by conventional means. And by conventional means, your parameters are generally anything that can't be scared off with a quick spritz of pepper spray in the eye, or anything slightly bigger or the same size as a house. You take care not to glorify yourself too much, but Celestia seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. Soon enough, you find yourself enthusiastically recounting stories of your exploits to your eager, unlikely listener, whom at times smiles knowlingly or nods gently in response to your sudden outburst of nostalgic exuberance.
"...And then I made its head explode! Both of them!" You finish proudly, waving around Fork Three, a cut of roast aptly stuck onto it. You take a deep breath, and a drink of water as Celestia claps appreciatively.
"Well spoken, adventurer," She laughs for the first time in your presence that day; a pure sound, like glass bells being gently tolled by a passing breeze. "You must forgive me; It's been well over a decade since I've had any pony regale me with tales of danger and intrigue. I supposedly have a Royal Storyteller for this exact same purpose, but everypony knows that he gets all his material from those trashy romance novels the shop down the road sells, and trust me, stories where nopony dies and where the colt always gets the mare truly do get old after a while," Celestia takes a long draught from her goblet and hiccups rather uncharacteristically.
"Are you drinking, Princess? It's only eleven in th-"
Celestia's chair tips backwards and teeters from back to front as she jerks forwards and covers your mouth with her hoof. Your face flushes visibly, inches away from hers, as Celestia reassures her maids and butlers that she had simply seen something on your cheek, and was wiping it off for you. If they found this behavior suspicious or uncanny, the servants certainly put up a good show of not making it apparent to the Princess and her guest. Celestia slowly sets herself back into her seat, while you gently touch your lips where Celestia had her hoof pressed against them. A slight metallic tang remains, and you distract yourself by tearing into a dinner roll.
"Pardon me for that, but I panicked. Perhaps I should have gone for the more natural approach, no?"
You spew a hunk of bread across the room at the telepathic contact, while a maid pony stares disapprovingly at you as she wipes your mess off of the front of her blouse. It feels as though a damp cloth has slithered over your mind, and through it, Celestia's voice echoes.
"Apologies," Celestia explains wordlessly, as she takes a bite of her breakfast and downs it with another sip from her goblet. "My dieticians would have my head on a sadly very non-metaphorical silver platter if they realized I've been abusing spacial distortion magic to fill my goblet with a drink stiffer than the usual orange juice."
You question her why, mentally, of course, so it wouldn't appear that the good Princess was blatantly ignoring you. Celestia's telepathic voice is softer and her Canterlot accent less pronounced. You wonder which, spoken or thought, would happen to be what her true voice sounds like, beneath the necessary facade of a ruler.
"Why? I don't do it all the time, but maybe I thought I'd cut a little loose today, what with your arrival and all that. Nowhere near enough to get me drunk, but just enough that I forget I'm a Princess. So I can relax for a change. You do realize this is the first day off I've voluntarily taken in centuries, no? Luna and I both decided this competition would be a great way to sneak in some break time, and to better understand the thinking of the young, promising ponies of this day and age. That's why we chose you."
"You mean I wasn't chosen because of a lucky draw?"
Celestia takes another sip, smiling out of the corner of her eye.
"How is the food, adventurer? Is everything to your liking?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Celestia smiles out of the corner of her mouth, her mirth-filled eyes betraying herself.
"Well, sort of. Luna and I had picked five ponies each, and we decided on you after a few hours of deliberation."
"Why me?"
Celestia snorts abruptly, and as soon as she did, disguises it as a cough. She smacks her chest briskly twice to clear up her airway, and calmly continues to eat.
"Well, frankly because you looked the most harmless."
You feel unsure as to whether you've been complimented or insulted. But you take this in good stead, and continue your line of inquisition.
"Harmless? Have you seen my cutie mark?"
"Oh, yes, we did. In detail, in fact. Luna was very impressed, even though she tried not to show it. She's always been a huge stickler for tradition. She misses the Golden Age, as she and she alone calls it, where we poured boiling oil down our castle walls to protect ourselves from the Griffin insurgents, the Battle for Ornith Keep and all that ancient history you've probably studied in Magic University," Celestia explains.
You don't quite know how to describe it, but at that moment, you see a light fade in her eyes. Celestia stares into space, alarmingly still, so statuesque in both height and immobility that you are unsure that she's even breathing. She jolts out of her trance soon enough, though, although the twinkle in her eye that she had when she was listening to you speak has vanished. You wonder what might have happened to trigger such a delibitating reaction in the Princess, but you have hardly any time to ponder, as you hear a commanding voice behind you yell something about "Thy chair" and "fiends", and in a split second, you are tackled to the floor by a crushing force.
You are trapped beneath something heavy, breathing and warm, with your face completely smothered in soft, downy fur. You smell a scent vaguely remiscent of black cherries and soap, and with a slow, horrible realization, you, blind as a bat, ascertain the identity of your attacker by olfactory sense alone.
"MMMTHHHSS MMMMNAAA!"
You manage to scream her name, albeit very muffled with your head trapped in plushy royal hell.
"Luna! I'm not going to repeat myself, get off of our guest's face at once!" You hear Celestia snap, her getting up and finally, Celestia's expression as light returns to your world: A curious mix of exasperation and apology. This time one of the maid ponies lets loose a snicker, but she gets caught instantly and sent out of the room. Too bad for her: You get to pay witness to the very strange sight of a very upset Princess Luna suspended upside down by her hindquarters by a very confused Princess Celestia, who promptly shoves Luna into the seat opposite yours. Luna pouts while staring at you disapprovingly, her gaze shifting from your outfit to her sister, and then back to you.
"Celestia, our 'guest' hath stolen our seat at thy banquet."
Celestia rubs her temple subconsciously with her left hoof, while taking another deep drink.
"It's not the guest's fault, Luna. I did not divulge your silly little obsession with that particular chair on purpose as to test your self control. And judging by the coffee stains on our guest's once pristine robes, you have failed. Miserably." Noticing said stain, you yelp and start vigorously dabbing at your top with the corner of the tablecloth. Celestia touches your hoof and reassures you that she will have her royal tailors make you a new outfit by the next morning. She turns back to her sister, her look of disapproval still lingering.
"Luna, apologize."
"Why should I?" The reply was painfully curt, and right now you wish that you could step out of the room and take a breather; You want no part of this potential superpowered alicorn brawl. Although, it would be kind of hot...No. Bad you. You banish those thoughts to the deepest annals of your mind as the conversation between the two sisters escalates.
"Words cannot express how sorry and ashamed I am as a host that you have to see this," Celestia mindspeaks to you while shooting you a brief glance.
"Luna, I'm warning you. Apologize to the young pony now, or you're going to resume your duties for the rest of the day. Be a good host, or not one at all. Your choice, Luna."
"Why couldn't you have told me that through telepathy?"
"Because I wanted our guest to see how much of a brat you've been acting like for the past few months!" Celestia gasps as soon as she realizes what she just said out loud, and drops her fork, clapping a hoof to her mouth as tears threaten to well up in her eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is cracked, and riddled through with regret.
"Luna...I'm so sorr-"
The Lunar Princess gets up from her seat and pushes away her breakfast in tranquil fury, politely bowing to the butlers, who bow back, Celestia, and finally, in a sardonic, sweeping motion, you. You feel a chill dance down your spine as her emerald steel meets your own.
"If anypony needs us, your Princess shall be in our quarters. Except for thou, Celestia. Thou can stayeth away from us now that thou hath thoroughly humiliated thine own sister in front of commoners and our serfs." She exits the room in a swish of mane and a blur of blue as she teleports as soon as the door begins to close on her.
Celestia slumps back in her seat, and with a single gesture, the butler and maid ponies exit the room after the upset Princess, leaving you two alone. She reaches out for her jewel-encrusted goblet, presumably to take another long drink to curb her angst from the recent spat. What should you do, or say to make things better?
1: Is she always like this?
2: Don't cry, Princess.
3: *You reach over and touch Celestia lightly on the shoulder, shaking your head slowly as you do so.* Requires Charm 10.
1: Celestia stares disgustedly at the contents of her goblet, and puts it down. You see her trying to salvage the remainder of your preconcieved image of her: That of a very attractive, but serious and professional politician. She fails horribly at putting her game face on, and Celestia frowns, and looks at you expectantly, almost as if she wants you to answer your own question. "She has been for a long time. But no. Luna wasn't always as wilful as she is now." She leans back, and laughs nervously and unconvincingly, wiping her nose with a napkin.
"If Luna's Golden Age was that of a medieval battlefield where the strongest and smartest reigned supreme, my Golden Age would be that of the times where I had a sister that at least acted like she loved me," She finishes quietly, blowing on the napkin. Celestia smiles again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Why am I even telling you this?" She ponders out loud. "Perchance the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I would never dream of acting like I do now at Day Court, the very thought abhors me. I shouldn't even be telling you these things, I don't even-" She stops, and her wry smile startles you. You see a faint pink tint adorn her cheeks, very unsure as to whether it's a genuine blush or some fortunate side effect of her booze. But it does bring a lovely rosy color into her otherwise almost unrealistically pale face, beginning to look less like a porcelain doll and more like a real pony.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister." Courage increases by 5.
2: "Wh...what? I'm not...?" The flush in Celestia's cheeks deepens, as she vigorously rubs at her eyes with her napkin. "N...no. No. No.", her voice regaining a fragment of regality and control with each syllable. It still isn't enough to hide her eyes, though. They remain soulful and sad, and you want to reach out to her, however your own limbs betray you as you comfort the Princess as best as you can.
"If Luna's Golden Age was that of a medieval battlefield where the strongest and smartest reigned supreme, my Golden Age would be that of the times where I had a sister that at least acted like she loved me," She finishes quietly, blowing on the napkin. Celestia smiles again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Why am I even telling you this?" She ponders out loud. "Perchance the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I would never dream of acting like I do now at Day Court, the very thought abhors me. I shouldn't even be telling you these things, I don't even-" She stops, and her wry smile startles you. You see a faint pink tint adorn her cheeks, very unsure as to whether it's a genuine blush or some fortunate side effect of her booze. But it does bring a lovely rosy color into her otherwise almost unrealistically pale face, beginning to look less like a porcelain doll and more like a real pony.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister." Charm increases by 5.
3: Celestia shies away at the contact, whether consciously or not you have no idea. She looks at your stern yet morose expression, and with a sigh, she puts her goblet down and slides it away from her in a gesture of defeat. "I know, I know. Drinking never really solves anything, and I'm frankly quite ashamed that I even considered it for half a second back then. But thank you," She says, touching your outstretched hoof with a her own surprisingly warm metal-clad one. Celestia reclines her head back and laughs nervously for a few moments, before addressing you again. "Forgive me, but this has been a rough week for me. The crown has been rather heavy on my shoulders as of late, and I do hope my candidness and honesty will not ruin your own image of your Princess. In these few hours I've acted more rashly and uncouthly than I have in decades, at least, in public, that is. Perhaps it's my body's way of telling me that this day off is more than a little overdue." Celestia smiles weakly, unwrapping an after-dinner mint and popping it into her mouth.
"I have a proposition for you, young pony." You lean in, and Celestia whispers in your ear, although there is nopony in particular around the two of you to hear.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister."
You agree, and Celestia beams, and you can sense that it's mostly genuine, an expression that warms your own heart as well. More meetings with the Princess! Deep down you know that the two of you will probably have very few chances to meet, what with Celestia's schedule and the potential scandals that could arise if ponies start to notice your budding friendship with the Princess, but at that point you could have cared less. You could worry about that later.
After all, the two of you still had one whole day together.
Day 1 (Daytime) Complete.
You feel a faint bond between yourself and Celestia...You have unlocked the Princess Celestia Social Link!
Celestia Social Link Rank Up 1. Criteria: Complete Day 1, Daytime.
Celestia Social Event Unlocked: What Does Trollestia Mean?