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// Cradling Her New Born Son 
// Story: Princess Celestia Raises the Son 
// by CrispySparrow 
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It was a time, before sleep. 

Here, sleep was an idea with the idea of uncurling, a seed just deciding to sprout. 

Yet it so desperately needed the gentle touch of rain. 

There is no rain in space. 

Celestia yawned, and rubbed her weary eyes. 

Again the child cried. 

His cry was piercing. It rippled through his gaseous cosmic crib, and through the fabric of space and time. 

That sound would have wounded the organs of any other creature capable of perceiving sound. If there was such a creature that is. Space is a vast place, with Suns and Sons few and far between.

This son, was her first. And though motherhood was still very new and strange to her, she was patient, and kind. There was none better for the task at hand. This does not mean that she knew at all what she was doing. With the eyes of a mortal she might be seen as an ancient being, but in the eyes of all she knew little more than the babe in the cradle.
Will the child cease to cry?
Gently she took the wailing babe, swapping his cradle with that of her white wings. Tendrils of fire singed her feathers, but that she did not mind.

To him she crooned a wordless tune. She had heard it so long ago, when she herself was but a foal. The memories ought to be fuzzy and warped, but they remained clear as day, hummed softly within the dark folds of time and mind.  

The child fell silent, and she was glad. 

She smiled.