It is said that, if you ever wish to get to know a pony, attend a therapy session with them. Gosling was getting to know a pony, that much was for certain. He lay, draped across a chair, trying to ignore the faint, almost unnoticeable ache that lurked deep within his ears, a little reminder of what had happened. A reminder of why he could not allow stress to rule his life and proof of what his therapist had said, ‘stress kills ponies.’
He glanced over at Celestia, who looked… troubled. She was sitting up on her haunches, looking down at her front hooves while she tapped them together, making nervous clippity-clop sounds, which sounded a bit like two coconut halves being banged together.
Lumina Loveletter looked calm, detached. She looked as cool and collected as she always did. At the moment, the pony was waiting for Celestia to say something, to respond, she was waiting for the white alicorn to bare her soul. Or just confess that she didn’t know what to say.
“I feel very guilty for everything I’ve put Gosling through,” Celestia said in a low voice, having found the words she had been struggling to say. “It’s hard, really, it is, to take somepony and just thrust them into this life. It… it is… it is part of why… it is part of the reason why I stopped taking suitors in the first place… I think… if I am to be honest. While some rose to the challenge, others succumbed to the pressure. It broke them. It hurt them. And I watched as those I loved suffered.”
“And this guilt… you carry it with you, even now?” Lumina asked.
“Well of course I do,” Celestia replied, sounding angry, but not angry with Lumina. “I suppose after a time, after watching it play out so many times during my long life, it just got easier to ignore my own needs and I justified it to myself as thinking of the needs of others. I was making a noble sacrifice.”
Gosling’s eyes darted from Celestia over to Lumina, and he saw something unknown flash upon Lumina’s face, some unidentified emotion. His eyes shot back to Celestia and he saw pain upon her face. In fact, the big mare looked as though she was about to cry.
“For many motivated individuals, for those who are compassionate, for those who possess strong traits of empathy, it is very, very easy to fall into the role of the martyr. They sacrifice themselves and all they have in the name of some great ideal or some necessary service.” Lumina’s brows knitted together and a deep crease appeared over her forehead. “Some even go a step further and punish themselves for thinking of their own needs. They withdraw. They isolate themselves. They become detached, sometimes, so much so that their body becomes far too conditioned to deprivation and self flagellation.”
“Conditioned?” Celestia asked.
Frowning, Lumina’s eyebrow arched and her ears stood up. “Their body becomes a willing participant in their own martyr complex and certain psychosomatic traits will manifest when the right stimuli is presented. Aches and pains when a pony feels too happy. A host of physical issues when life begins to go too smoothly. The inability to orgasm is a common symptom—”
“What have I done to myself?” Celestia asked, cutting Lumina off.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Lumina gave the big mare a reassuring smile. “Time, patience, and a little help from those that love you. You can be reconditioned. Princess Cadance has been watching you for some time, watching, guessing, attempting to diagnose problems so that we could deal with them when you finally came around and became serious about getting help.”
With his own problems feeling insignificant, Gosling remained silent.
“So you are saying that if I were to to have an intimate moment with Gosling, I would be unable to”—Celestia cleared her throat in a demure and dignified way—“climax?”
“Is that so far fetched?” Lumina asked. “You have already seen the evidence of this with your own inability to self stimulate. Our emotions can alter what we feel, what we experience, they can alter the physical body.”
Closing her eyes, Celestia let out a sigh and hung her head. “I am more like my sister than I care to admit. Why must we punish ourselves… this is unbearable.”
Looking Celestia in the eye, or trying to, seeing as how Celestia was looking down at her own front hooves at the moment, Lumina cleared her own throat to get Celestia’s attention and then said, “We are a collection of our experiences. We are the sum of everything that happens in our lives, both good and bad. Trauma stays with us and shapes us as individuals. For you, this becomes an interesting problem, as you have lived for a very long time. You have seen much, experienced much, you have witnessed the fall of one civilisation and the rise of another. You have endured much upheaval, unrest, and have stared down those with nefarious intent, all to protect your ponies. And for the most part, you have borne this burden alone. A small bit of trauma can radically change a pony’s life, alter their perceptions, it can change their thinking, how they perceive the world… and you… you have endured no small amount of trauma. But you can no longer bear this burden alone.”
“Right.” Celestia nodded in agreement. “I need help. I want to love Gosling. I want to be with him. But I feel guilty for dragging him into this mess… into this messed-up mess that is my life, and I’ve already seen what it is doing to him and it is tearing me apart inside.”
“Eh, I gots better,” Gosling said with a dismissive wave of his hoof.
As a tear slid down Celestia’s cheek, she gave Gosling a faint smile. “So, enough about me and everything that’s messed up inside of my own head… I want to know what is so screwed up about Gosling so I can help him get better.”
There was a snort, followed by a burst of laughter from Lumina. “Well, there is the usual host of issues for somepony who has been through what he’s endured, the life he has lived, the social conditioning, and all those other factors, but one of Gosling’s most pressing issues is that—”
“I’m pretty,” Gosling said, beating Lumina to the punch.
“He’s vain.” Lumina raised her eyebrow and gave Gosling a stern glare.
“He’s a narcissist?” Celestia asked.
“Oh, stars no, nothing like that,” Lumina replied, shaking her head. “He has body image issues. He’s obsessed with physical perfection. He exercises, he preens himself, he pushes himself towards a difficult to maintain ideal, and all for the desire to be ‘pretty.’ Gosling’s self esteem is tied to his desire to feel pretty… which is why he can’t walk past a mirror without stopping to make certain that he is the absolute image of perfection. A narcissist is capable of only loving themselves, and Gosling is too good of a pony to think that way. He is genuinely concerned about the welfare of others. So he is not a narcissist, he’s just vain, and very much so.”
“What’s wrong with being pretty?” Celestia asked.
Ears twitching, Lumina sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment, her cheeks bulging as she eyed Celestia. She did not reply, withholding her words as she tried to think of an appropriate response.
“Yeah, that’s what I say… what’s wrong with being pretty? When a mare worries about how good she looks, that’s normal, but when I do it, there’s something wrong with me.” Gosling rolled his eyes and made cuckoo bird noises.
Sighing, Lumina rubbed her temple with her hoof.
“And to be honest, Gosling is very pretty… I mean, look at him, he’s gorgeous!”
“You know it!”
A single vein in Lumina’s neck quivered and convulsed. She rubbed her temple even harder and the corner of her other eye on the far side of her head away from her hoof twitched. Some ponies…
Eyeing Gosling, Lumina said, “Okay, back on subject… Celestia asked a question and she is owed an in depth and honest answer…”
A driving rain fell upon the city of Canterlot. The falling water flowed through the streets, cleaning the debris from between the cobblestones along with what little trash there was in the gutter, and everything was sluiced into the storm drains. The driving rain, which came down in a torrent, scrubbed the gleaming pink and white marble that made up so much of the city. Places that had been discoloured and stained by chimney smoke were restored by the cleansing rains.
The cloud that hung over the city was massive, terrifying even, and ponies who were scared of thunderstorms were advised to live elsewhere. Bolts of lightning came down with startling regularity and struck lightning rods, which were located on every roof, every cupola, every onion dome, there were more lightning rods in Canterlot than in any other city in Equestria.
Dense, almost impenetrable fog filled the streets, making it almost impossible to see. The fog was a living thing, a force of nature, the cold, chilly fog drove ponies indoors, into homes and cafes, it motivated them to seek shelter with loved ones, with friends, and prompted tea times and coffee breaks. Like the rain, the fog crept into every crevice, every crack, every nook and cranny, leaving the pale marble and alabaster of the city spotless, perfect, and clean, even if it did leave the cobblestones as slick as sheet ice.
In a city that was consumed by fog, assaulted by lightning, and pounded upon by rain, not every pony had common sense. At least two ponies were outside, playing in the rain, and splashing in the puddles. They frolicked in the courtyard of the castle, both were soaked, drenched to the bone, and laughing.
The larger, white and as beautiful as the pale marble all around her, kicked up her heels and bucked at the air as she tried to shake the kinks out of her spine. Her wings were spread and her feathers were soaked. The smaller, black and grey as the stormcloud above, pranced and pronked around the courtyard, leaping up into the air so he could land with a massive splash in the pooled and puddled water. His mane was plastered to his neck and his tail clung to his hind legs.
And then, much to the dismay of a certain pink pony, a third figure joined the two ponies frolicking in the rain. She was small, a foal, and she too, was pink. She giggled, she laughed, and she bounced around the white alicorn’s long legs.
With the rain hammering at him, Gosling watched as Flurry Heart and Celestia played together. His mane was clinging to his neck and his face, his ears were waterlogged, droopy, and the moment could not be more perfect. He extended his wings and let the rain soak into them, he angled them, twisted them around, trying to allow the rain to seep in. It felt good.
The guards were huddled in nooks and archways, trying to stay somewhat dry, but the wet always found its way in and Gosling knew this from experience. He waggled his dock and felt his tail tearing away from his legs, the water had made it clingy.
A brilliant flash dazzled his eyes and then a thunderclap made his ears ring. Nearby, a lightning rod glowed pinkish-white. Little Flurry Heart seemed unconcerned by the lightning strike that had happened just a short distance away. She too, had her wings out and she was absolutely drenched.
Laughing, Gosling flicked out his waterlogged wing at Celestia and slung water at her. He heard her gasp, her eyes went wide, and then she stood looking at him with a broad, beaming smile upon her muzzle.
“You got me wet!” Celestia shouted over the sound of the driving rain.
“Hey, not in front of the filly!” was Gosling’s good natured retort.
Giggling, Celestia’s face turned pink and her blush spread down her neck. She whipped out her own wing and sent a torrent of water at Gosling. Following her aunt’s lead, Flurry also began slinging water at Gosling, and also moved off to his right side to flank him.
There was another terrific lightning strike and this one struck a lightning rod on top of the tower next to the gatehouse. Strange ghostly images and weird fire lingered in the air after the strike, and even with the rain and fog, the stench of ozone was so strong that it made the nostrils burn.
Flurry, truly her mother’s foal, let Gosling have it for splashing her aunt. She flapped both wings, making swift chopping motions, and sent so much water at Gosling with so much force that he was forced to defend himself. He raised his own wings and used them as a shield, trying to protect himself from the stinging aquatic assault.
Celestia moved in so that she could attack, but things didn’t go as planned. Gosling intercepted her, and while still trying to shield himself from Flurry’s relentless assault, he pressed his soggy, rain-soaked lips against Celestia’s own waterlogged muzzle.
Ceasing her attack, Flurry watched as the two adults kissed. She was used to this, her Mommy and her Daddy did this all the time, they’d be playing or wrestling or doing something silly, and then this would happen. The filly giggled and stomped her hooves in the pooled water that filled the courtyard. Looking up, she watched as her aunt wrapped her sopping wet wings around Mistah Goose, who was going to be Uncle Goose soon enough, and hauled him in.
Turning her head, she looked over to where her mother stood watching, waiting out the rain. Mommy wasn’t feeling good, something about her magic. She looked back up at her aunt and gave herself a shake, sending water flying out in torrents. Her aunt was happy, and that made Flurry happy.
Laughing, Flurry Heart pranced and pronked over to where her mother waited, wondering if perhaps it was time to go inside, get all dried off, get warm, have a snuggle, and maybe have some cocoa. She glanced back over her withers and saw that the kissing was now getting super kissy-kissy-smooshy-smoochy-facey. Some grown ups just didn’t know when to quit and they overdid it. There was a fine line between the romantic bedtime story smooch shared by the prince and the princess when the evil bug queen had been defeated and what appeared to be two ponies trying to gobble each other’s faces. YUCK!
It was definitely time to go inside and spend some time with Mommy…