//------------------------------// // We might not have it all together, but together, we have it all. // Story: Principal Celestia Hunts the Undead // by Rune Soldier Dan //------------------------------// Luna began her yawn as she pulled into the garage, and barely finished by the time she walked out. Sunset’s flu was a gross, noisy one that hadn’t been easy on any of them. “Sorry I’m late,” Luna called dully as she pushed open the kitchen door. She paused as she came in, listening towards the bathroom. Good – no sound of moaning, flushing, or bodily noises. Finally. Celestia nodded at her from the stove, sans makeup. “How was your day?” Three hours of sleep and handling both their workloads had made for a terrible one, but Luna held it in. “Fine. How’s the kid?” Celestia turned back to her cooking. “Much better. She ate a little cereal around noon, and hasn’t thrown up since. She’s in bed watching cartoons right now.” “Which cartoon?” “Um…” Celestia smiled blankly. “I don’t really know. Something about fusions, and Crystal Gems?” “Good choice.” Luna dropped her purse on the counter and sidled up next to Celestia. The woman’s tongs hovered over two sandwiches sizzling in a pan, while her other stirred a bubbling pot of red liquid. Luna took a sniff: tomatoes, and… Realization clicked. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” Celestia flipped one of the sandwiches. “She said she was feeling hungry.” “You are making her grilled cheese and tomato soup.” Luna repeated the fact, then shook her head. “You know… give me a sec. This is overdue.” She strode over and leaned through the doorway to the living room. The sight there was a good one – Sunset was pale, but no longer green, and the bucket she spent the night gripping had been replaced by her phone. She looked up and paused the cartoon as Luna gave a hurried wave. “Hey, Sunset. Excuse us, I got to talk to Tia about a student.” She closed the door as Tia asked, “Which student?” “The one in the living room.” Luna folded her arms and looked away. “I found a few things online today. Adoption forms, where to send them, that whole thing.” “Not you, too.” Celestia pointedly fixed her gaze on the food. “I do not appreciate being pressured into it.” Luna groaned. “Look, this song and dance was funny at first, but now it’s kind of sad, and probably unhealthy. Why don’t you adopt her?” “Isn’t it my choice?” Celestia replied airily, flipping the other sandwich. Luna threw out her arms. “Of course it is, and you’ve already made it. You are literally cooking her the momiest dish in existence. Yesterday you held her hair while she puked, and while she was asleep you tried to crack her phone’s password to see what she’d been texting Soarin. Then there’s the driving practice, the homemade brownies…” Celestia arched her nose. “You made brownies the second time. Why don’t you adopt her?” “You remember my bird?” That caught Celestia. “I blame myself,” she said, lowering her head. “See, you should blame me because I’m an adult, but we won’t touch that right now. The point is I can’t take care of a parakeet, let alone a teenaged magic pony girl. But you can, you are. You’re thinking about her future. Her feelings. Her frickin’ nutrition. And not in a ‘Oh, you poor, special snowflake’ way, but in a way that has her build off what you give her. You’re already her mom in every way that counts, so why not make it official?” “Why make it official?” Celestia asked back. “What difference does it make?” Luna pointed to the door. “It’s not for you, it’s for her. It’s the difference between ‘crashing at Miss Celestia’s place’ and coming home. It’ll tell her for sure you won’t slam the door one day, and that you’ll be there for her even after she moves out.” “She’s been independent all her life.” Celestia gave the pot another stir as its first bubbles emerged. “She’ll be eighteen in March. Doesn’t it seem a little silly to adopt someone three months before they become an adult? Would she even want me to?” Luna gave a snort. “We both know turning eighteen doesn’t make you an adult, and ‘independent’ is a bullshit word for ‘orphan’ at her age. You’re feeding me excuses, and I don’t get it. We can all see she’s the new apple of your eye.” Celestia whipped around, facing and pointing directly at Luna. “She is not. My apple has always been you. You’re the most important thing in my life, and you must never forget that.” Luna slapped her face. “Oh God, this is about me.” Celestia didn’t deny it, instead turning back to the stove. Luna laughed without mirth. “It is! Tia, I… I know I’ve done a shitty job proving it, but I’m not thirteen anymore. I’m not going to get jealous. I told you, I love her! I… look, let me tell you what I’m getting her for Christmas. I’m wrapping some stupid jewelry, but the real gift will be my display room. All those collectables and action figures and shit are going in the attic, and then we are getting her a God-damn real bed to put in there.” “That’s your ‘you’ room Luna.” Celestia pursed her lips. “I don’t want you to have to give it up.” “I don’t ‘have’ to,” Luna insisted. “I want to make room for the third member of our family. She’s already part of it; you can admit that much, can’t you? That she’s family?” “Yes.” Celestia nodded, eyes on the soup. “Honestly, I’d adopt her myself if I was half as mature as you.” Luna chuckled, shrugging her arms. “So now that that’s cleared, what do you think?” “I think I love her very much.” Celestia took a breath, looking briefly to the ceiling before going on. “I want what’s best for her, and that’s not me.” She shook her head and flipped the sandwiches back over. “She deserves better. A house big enough for some privacy. A stable family, with a mother and father to care for her.” Luna blew a stray hair to the side. “Yeah, and a flippin’ dog in the yard, too. There’s no happy valley suburban family out there waiting for her. It’s you, or nothing.” “I know,” Celestia said softly. She lifted one of the sandwiches and peered beneath – crispy brown and yellow, above and below. With a brief smile, she set it and a bowl onto a plate, then poured half the soup into the bowl. Luna’s eyebrow went up as Celestia repeated the process with a second plate. “I thought you didn’t eat grilled cheese?” “I don’t,” Celestia replied, and before Luna knew it the plate was pressed into her hands. She looked down in befuddlement as the mouth-watering scents drifted upwards. “Didn’t I say I’d be home late? I figured I’d just order a pizza or something.” “This is better,” Celestia declared with a knowing smile. She fished the orange juice from the refrigerator and filled up a glass. Luna had already taken her first bite of the gooey, still-hot and delicious sandwich. “But how’d you time it so well?” “Sibling telepathy.” Celestia chuckled at Luna’s smirking glare. “You legally have to leave the school by seven, and with both our workloads there was no way you were getting out before then. Seven o’clock plus ten minute drive equals now.” Luna took another bite, knowing she should savor the food but unable to resist swallowing it half-chewed. She released a blissful sigh and grinned. “I’m jealous, but grilled cheese really takes the sting out of it.” The grin fell. She set the plate down and poked Celestia on the shoulder. “Seriously: Best mom.” Celestia gave a gentle laugh as she picked up the other plate. “Thanks, Lulu. Can you get the door?” Luna closed the dining room door behind Celestia, giving her privacy with Sunset. A hint, perhaps. Perhaps not. Subtlety was never Luna’s strong suit; but neither was empathy, and she had read things out the way they were. Luna was right. All self-doubts aside, Celestia was the best option Sunset had. It was her, or nothing. It would never, ever be nothing. Even without anything official, Celestia would be there for Sunset. This wasn’t a ‘kick her out when she turns eighteen’ arrangement. Celestia had already started looking at colleges, loan programs and scholarships. She had also begun gently probing Sunset’s ambitions, though so far all that yielded was, “Bad-ass monster hunter.” Celestia would be her mom in all the ways that count, so why make it legal? Why go through the paperwork, the awkwardness, the risk of alienating the girl if she was against it? What was wrong with what they had now? Luna’s words rattled in her brain, trying to find a place. ‘Do it for Sunset,’ but wasn’t Sunset happy? Did things really need to change? Celestia wouldn’t treat her differently if they ever made it legal. Adoption was a slip of paper, nothing more. Nothing magical. Nothing would change, so why do it? The answer eluded her in that brief moment of thought. She came to Sunset with food in hand, and entered the present once more. “Still hungry?” Sunset’s wan face snapped up from her phone. “Oh, yeah.” The skinny girl heaved herself from the puddle of blankets to a seated position. She shivered immediately and drew the covers back around her, drawing a tut from Celestia. “Take it slow. You’re still sick.” “Sorry,” Sunset croaked. She coughed wetly and went on in a more normal voice. “It’s just the chills and a little queasiness now. I feel good. Really hungry.” Celestia set the plate and juice on a little bed tray and maneuvered it over Sunset’s lap. “One bite at a time. Your stomach might not like more.” Sunset nodded, though her eyes glowed at the assembled food. “Oh wow, I haven’t had grilled cheese in forever. Thanks, Miss Celestia.” Celestia’s smile twitched. ‘Miss Celestia.’ That sounded wrong today. Sunset ignored her warning, tearing into the comfort food with the gusto of the starved. She closed her eyes and moaned with each bite, practically drinking the sandwich before moving on to the soup. She’s changed. The thought came to Celestia along with memories of Sunset’s first dinner here, eaten with fearful politeness. A far cry from the sick, skinny girl now licking the grease off her right fingertips while tapping her phone with the left. That was fine. This was Sunset’s home, and Celestia hoped she knew that. Her lips thinned with a new thought. Don’t ‘hope.’ Tell her! “Um…” The verbal hesitation got Sunset’s attention. She pushed the now-clear tray out of the way and looked to Celestia. The principal smiled shyly. “Can I sit next to you?” Sunset wrinkled her nose. “I’m so gross right now.” She wasn’t wrong. Stale sweat clung to her pajamas, though Celestia was already sitting. “I haven’t showered since this started. I’m not any less gross.” “Then yeah, sure.” Sunset scooched over to Celestia’s perch, and didn’t resist as a pale pink arm pulled her into a hug. “How’s your stomach?” Celestia, asked, then winced. Stop stalling! “Better than ever.” Sunset beamed, hands on her belly. “Who were you texting?” “Rainbow.” Sunset shrugged. “She’s feeling better, too.” “That’s good.” “Yeah.” Celestia swallowed. “Sunset?” The yellow teen looked to her. “Yeah?” The pink arm squeezed a little tighter, and Celestia looked away. “This is your home. You know that, don’t you?” “Um.” Now it was Sunset’s turn to pause. Celestia glanced over to see she too was looking away. “I do now. Thanks.” That wasn’t the answer Celestia wanted. She bit a lip, realizing one more thing Luna was right about: this was long overdue. Sunset fidgeted with her phone. “I guess I kind of figured. But I didn’t want to presume.” She smiled. “It’s good to hear.” Celestia gave an automatic smile in return. “I… should have said it earlier. I have something else to say, too.” The smile collapsed, and again she looked away. “But before that, there’s something else. The elephant in the room. I know you’ve seen it, with the nightmares, and what happened in the mall. You have to be wondering.” “Yeah, but don’t worry about me.” Sunset’s hand mirrored Celestia’s, reaching around to hug the shoulder. “It’s private, it’s sensitive, and it’s none of my business.” “It is your business,” Celestia said softly. Reluctantly. “And it is sensitive, but family shouldn’t keep secrets from each other, and I think you should know before I move on to the other thing.” This wouldn’t be easy. Celestia drew her arm away from Sunset. Sunset followed her lead, opening the air between them. Too late to back out. Celestia hugged her chest and faced away. She wiped her eyes – no tears. The wound was scabbed. “I tried to kill Luna.” The words tumbled out before she was ready. Celestia squeezed her own sides hard enough to feel pain. “I shot her. I was young, and stupid, and selfish, and–” The slam of the dining room door interrupted her, followed by Luna’s shout. “Damn it, Tia, I knew you would do this!” Celestia stood instinctively as Luna strode up to her, still shouting. “When I said you should tell her, I did not mean the ‘Everything is Celestia’s Fault Forever’ edition.” “You were thirteen!” Celestia spread her arms, rising to the fight. Luna threw her own arms out. “And you were seventeen! You weren’t an adult either, so stop acting like you had any control over what happened.” Celestia hissed. “Well I had control of the trigger, and look where that–” “Girls!” The sisters startled and froze, both from the volume and the fact that it came from Sunset. With the assertive shout done, Sunset shrank back into the covers. “Stop. I don’t need to know.” “You totally do,” Luna said lowly. She traded a glance and soft smile with Celestia. Celestia gave a firm nod. “This is overdue, Sunset. You need to know… who your family is.” She shrugged, giving what she hoped was a reassuring look. Sunset nodded back, seeming to steel herself. Luna tapped one finger across two. “Alright, first thing’s first: keep in mind this happened a long time ago. It was super bad, but we’re both over it.” “Which is why you can’t sleep apart,” Sunset noted. “It doesn’t affect our daily lives,” Celestia offered with her best ‘pleasant principal’ smile. “Yeah, so shut up.” Luna stuck out her tongue at Sunset, drawing a chuckle. The levity passed, and she went on. “Rewind eighteen years. I’m thirteen, Tia is seventeen. She’s a hippie two decades too late, but she’s hot and wacky so everyone likes her. I’m a friendless introvert addicted to videogames, and there were also some differences from the me of today. I had more pimples than skin, and had the ‘Oh, waah, nobody gets me’ teenager mentality turned to fifty.” She jerked a thumb to Celestia as the older sister opened her mouth. “And before Celestia blames herself for not trying to help me, she did. It’s just that singing ‘Let it Be’ to a preteen who hates the world isn’t exactly the pinnacle of child psychiatry.” Celestia closed her mouth. Luna continued. “So, I met this guy. At the arcade, I think. College-age, rode a motorbike, cool as coke. Spoiler warning, he was a vampire. He called me his beautiful girlfriend, and I was dumb enough to believe him.” “She might have been enchanted somehow,” Celestia said, finger raised. Luna shrugged. “Maybe. I think it was just the headlong rush of hormones people mistake for love. Anyway, he came out to me one day as a vampire, all shy and ‘I don’t want you to think I’m a monster,’ and I lapped it right up. I let him feed off me, feeling better and better as my grades sunk and I lost what little social life I had.” “Enter Tia. She stumbled across us in my room one day with my neck bleeding into his mouth. She freaks and runs for dad, and my alleged boyfriend starts freaking out too. He said Celestia was going to tell our parents, and they would tell the religious nut-jobs that had been hunting him. The only way to save his life was if…” Luna faltered, her strong voice ending abruptly. Wet-eyed and straining, she finished. “They died. Celestia, my parents, we had to kill them fast.” The voice grew feral. “And like the absolute retard that I was, I said yes.” Pale arms moved. Celestia pulled her close. “You were inexperienced and vulnerable, he was a skilled manipulator. Don’t blame yourself.” “Heh.” Luna gave a grimaced smile. “That’s my line.” “If I’m not allowed to do it, then neither are you.” Celesta’s calm command widened her sister’s smile. “I’ll take it from here, if that’s okay.” “Yeah, whatever, just keep holding me.” Celestia turned her head to Sunset. “I know this is hard to hear. Will you let us finish?” “If you think it’s important, yeah.” Sunset shuffled, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m happy you trust me enough to share, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.” “Thanks, but remember: we’re totally over this.” Luna laughed as she rested her head against Celestia’s shoulder. Celestia rubbed her sister’s back and picked up the story. “Luna didn’t kill our parents. I want to make that clear. It was the vampire. As things… happened, we both panicked and ran out of the house. I had dad’s gun. I turned back and saw her running at me with blood on her face. I didn’t know anything about vampires back then, so when he drank from her throat I thought...” An unsteady swallow. Then, “I thought Luna was now a vampire, coming to kill me. So I shot her, four times.” “Only three hit.” Luna broke the hug and lifted her shirt to show three old, tiny scars on her belly. “Didn’t even hurt until I was at the hospital.” “What happened then?” Sunset asked. “Um.” A stronger smile slipped onto Celestia’s face. “I… I was about to shoot her on the ground and, um…” Luna’s grin matched her sister’s. “Nagatha knocked her block off.” “Miss Harshwhinny!?” Sunset’s voice cracked, and she fell to a fresh round of coughing. Celestia scratched at her elbows. “Yes, the ‘nut-jobs’ hunting the vampire was her old group. They’d tracked him to the house and arrived just in time to stop me from making the worst mistake of my life.” “Tch.” Luna looked to the side. “Wish they could have stopped me from mine. Anyway, I wake up in the hospital and there’s Tia, on her knees begging me to forgive her. And I’m all, ‘no, you forgive me, this was my fault.’ We still fight about that, in case you haven’t noticed.” She shrugged. “That’s basically the end. We got handed off to crap foster homes and crap child psychologists, and just had a roiling good time with PTSD until we moved in together. During college Celestia asked Nagatha to teach her the business and I got in too, because fuck vampires. Any questions?” There were none. The next question actually came from Celestia, asking Sunset if she wanted to be left alone. The response was a negative, and Celestia quietly sat in her rocker while Luna hit the shower. The silence that fell was neither entirely comfortable nor uncomfortable. Sunset ceased her texting, and only met Celestia’s eyes in brief, awkward glances. She turned her cartoons back on, filling the quiet with empty noise. When the first episode ended, Sunset didn’t click over to the next. Instead she asked, “Why?” “You deserved to know,” Celestia said. That wasn’t good enough. “No. Why?” Sunset shifted in the bed to look at her. “You said there was something else.” “There was.” Celestia nodded, then caught herself. “Is. There is something else. But I don’t want to pile things on while you’re still digesting this.” Sunset pressed forward. “Consider it digested. I get you guys, I really do.” She gave a grim laugh. “Boy, do I get you. I know a thing or two about awful mistakes, you know? And I also know about moving on from them. Saying, ‘My past is not today.’” “That’s a nice way of putting it,” Celestia smiled, drawing a shy laugh from Sunset. “Thanks. Um… I wrote a song about it, but it’s kind of a solo thing so I never sprung it on the band.” Celestia nodded. “I’d love to hear it.” “Later, sure.” Sunset blushed a little, and her eyes darted away. “You’d be the first. But anyway, that other thing. Lay it on me.” “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush things.” Sunset gave a weak chuckle from her blanket mountain. “Honestly, all this buildup is making me nervous. Can we just do it?” “Fair,” Celestia said. And it was – she’d put this off too long. Just a little longer. With her impenetrable calm in place, Celestia asked, “Do you like living here?” She expected confusion at the vague question. Instead, Sunset beamed and sat up straighter. “Definitely. Food, heating, love; what’s not to like?” Celestia had been a teenager once. “Curfews. Groundings.” Her smile shifted to a more genuine one, with one eyebrow raised. “Someone who checks your history homework, and make you redo it if she thinks you can do better.” Again, Sunset didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, but it’s still a net positive, and that other stuff isn’t so bad. Kind of weird to say, but I’m happy for it. It means you care – if you didn’t, you wouldn’t bother. Plus, I never really understood when Rarity or Rainbow complained about their folks, and now that I do, we’ve got one more thing in common.” “I see.” Celestia’s smile grew. “You complain about me, hm?” “I still say Adagio deserved a butt-kicking back then.” Sunset smirked and stuck out her tongue. No nervousness or backpedaling… she was comfortable. It warmed Celestia inside. Still, the principal gave a tsk. “Let’s not revisit that evening.” Sunset nodded. “Agreed. I’m pretty sure you’re taking this conversation somewhere else.” “Yes,” Celestia sighed, leaning back in her chair. The moment of truth. But how to ask it? Nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal? Or with hugs and kisses and a pile of soft emotion? Perhaps she should wait until Sunset wasn’t ill, but no, it was too late for that. The question came honestly from the nervous soul. “Do you… ah, do you want to make things official?” She clarified at Sunset’s befuddled glance. “Between us.” “Between us,” Sunset repeated, still not following. Celestia’s smile hid her thumping heart. “Adoption, I mean. Would you like to adopt me?” Sunset looked more confused than before, and it took Celestia a second to hear her own words. She slapped her eyes, gave a breathless laugh, and went on. “I mean, me and you. Would you like me to adopt you?” Sunset’s response was low and serious. “What would be different?” “Nothing.” Celestia shrugged and gave another weak laugh. “It’s a piece of paper. Law. Legalese. Nothing. But at the same time, it’s not nothing. It means it won’t just be me saying this is your home – it will be true in every sense of the word. And with what we have now, you and I know that we’re family. With that piece of paper, we shout it to the world.” “That’d be cool.” Sunset scratched her hair. Neither of them were looking at each other. “If I can ask, what changed? When we started you said adoption was off the table.” Celestia shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess… humans can’t control how they feel. We can’t choose to get happy or angry. We can’t decide not to fall in love. We just do, and it doesn’t matter what was said before. I feel ready for this, but it’s up to you. If you don’t want to be tied to me like that, it’s okay. This will still be your home.” “Got it.” Sunset nodded. “Last question: why did I need to know the other thing first?” “So you’d know what you’d be getting into.” Celestia’s voice graveled. She sniffed wetly and went on. “You deserve better, Sunset. Luna and I, we broke so badly then, and we were never really fixed, just sort of glued back together. We’re not stable, or terribly responsible, and with the business and everything we don’t have much money. But we’re all there is. If there was a better choice, I’d send you there instead.” “You tried.” Celestia looked to Sunset. Sunset looked back steadily, and Celestia broke the gaze. “The princess, remember?” Sunset pointed in the vague direction of the school. “I could have gone with her to Equestria. Gotten my old room in the palace back. A ‘better choice’ if there ever was one, and Tirek’s teeth to it. My family’s here, not there. So if you’re asking for my opinion, then yes, I’d like to make it official. I’d love it.” She leaned forward in the bed, face lit by a growing smile. “Honestly, the more I talk about it the more I want it. Because I’m a little glued together too, and the thought that even after all I did you want me in that kind of way, that… that makes me really, really happy. You can’t even imagine.” A loud sniff, and Sunset ran a palm along her moist eyes. “Man, if I wasn’t sick I’d hug you so hard right now.” Celestia was already moving, climbing over the sweaty sheets towards Sunset. The prone teen waved her off to no avail. “We can hug later, I smell like a haunted gym and my stomach is kind of–” The embrace ended the protest. Sunset sat up, leaning into the hug and returning it with all her might. Their chins locked around each other’s shoulder, their eyes looking past – so much to fear, so much to plan, but right now all their questions could wait. One slipped through. “Should I start calling you ‘Mom?’” “Only if you want to.” “I do.” Sunset trembled in Celestia’s grip. “I really do.” Celestia felt wetness on her shoulder and rubbed Sunset’s back. “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.” “Thanks,” Sunset said. “But I’m not crying. It’s, uh, my nose. Let me go and I’ll...” “Oh, no you don’t.” Celestia hugged her all the tighter. The pair squeezed, giggled, and laughed out loud, then Sunset threw up on her mother’s back.