Duskfall

by Celestial Swordsman

Cold

Chapter 45

Back inside her new abode, she considered the lock. She had hoped she would have the confidence to be comfortable in an open environment, but she really didn’t. She bolted it, thinking, “I’ll build up to that.”

Celestia was worn out from her awkward day and was quite ready to give in to the night. She curled up on her bed and nuzzled the blankets. The mattress molded to her form as she relaxed into it, releasing all of her muscles. With a deep contented sigh, she whispered, “I’m telling you, sis, it’s the best part.”

She expected to drift off to sleep, but her mind would not stop. Was she worried about tomorrow? “Nah, I can handle it,” she decided. Of course there would be awkward moments but she was getting used to that. She would have to pretend she didn’t, but she thought it was a relief, funny even. Of all the things she had to regret, partying wasn’t exactly the most horrible. She couldn’t let it happen again though; she would have to control herself a little, and have a talk with Pinkie Pie.

Could she fit in like a normal pony? No, she wasn’t a normal pony, but she didn’t have to be. Even if she had an abnormal life here, she could still be happy. In time the community would accept her for what she was. Until then, she would have to run her life like a public relations campaign. She was sick of lies and pretense, but she wouldn’t need either.

What reassured Celestia most of all was that she already had friends here. She was hopeful about her relationship with Pinkie Pie, Applejack and Fluttershy. She would definitely try to find Fluttershy sometime tomorrow, after she cleaned up the night’s mess.

Celestia concluded that she had beat the system, and won it all. She could live a comfortable and carefree life. The demands of state would not weigh on her. She did not miss the wealth and certainly not the social posturing. Luxury was still open to her anyway; she had merely to visit Luna in Canterlot. She was content, even eager, to try out the simple country life. If she wanted a change of scene she could travel anywhere and still perform her only responsibility. Should she grow tired of the cozy accommodations, it would be easy to earn the money to upgrade, now that she had her powers back.

In reality there was no point; she owned a small house, but the world was her home. She could run, fly, or teleport anywhere she willed. She could lie down in palaces, cottages, or under trees and on clouds beyond the reach of civilization. Now she was free. She had lived to see her happily ever after.

After all these pleasant thoughts she should be sleeping like a foal, but she was not. There was something stirring in her that would not be put to rest. Her eyes opened at the discovery that she was afraid to sleep now, afraid that she would lose that something.

She arose and moved through the house with a contemplative silence. Her mood called for a view into the clear expanse of the sky, so she stepped out into the back yard. She laid her graceful form in the center of the green.

The door hung open; she couldn’t bring herself to close it. When it closed, she would have to be on one side of it or the other.

The cool grass and the night breeze brought a chill to her skin. She welcomed it as more honest than the warmth of her chamber. She was supposed to be cold.

Stars twinkled in the cloudless expanse overhead. In their company she could think the great thoughts that demanded to be explored. She and her sister were conscious that the sun and the stars still burned with fire even when they were beyond the sight of beast and pony. For whom did they shine then?

Life received the energy given to it by the heavenly lights. Cascading from that energy were all the flowing, breaking, forming movements of the intricate workings of life. Beings continued the movement through their lives, came together, hurt and helped. Who did not need her? Who did she need? Her answer was unthinkable yet undeniable.

The turn of her thoughts startled her, frightened her. The world had been interrupted from its natural course. Life, as living sentients, had continued its response as it thought and spoke to itself and wrote history. This, then, is its final and fullest expression; but it looks back to its giver and says, “You were wrong.” How tormented a creature it is. Rebelling against the warmth held out to it, life turns its motion to choke itself.

Every year, this fact was commemorated in the gay celebrations of Heart’s Warming Eve. Once before, the collective of all hearts and minds had grown cold—so cold that it stopped itself, freezing backwards through spirit, action, organic motion, down to the fabric of nature, so that a veil shunned the heavenly light. Regretful yet stubborn minds separated to cut their ties, the very bonds that were the fulfillment of the life reaction and had made them prosper. As they scattered desperately into the vastness of the world, they met each other. Against their will and all probability, they found the others they had fled from and were joined together again, and warmed, for an era.

Yet life still thought the same way. The destructive decision had been passed on through callous spirits and poured into her own, and she had stored up what she received. Even she, entrusted for an age to hold out the light to the world, despised its purpose. She acted in fear, hatred, conceit, and self-destructive selfishness. As she reacted to life, so the world reacted to her, forming a society that harmed the elite with pleasure garnered from the harm of the weak. The bitterness she sowed grew into another monster as her sister followed her example, and out of jealousy, attacked her. They spited the harmony of the heavens they represented with their animosity for each other. They multiplied warfare and cooperated in a competitive venture to create more and more powerful curses and weapons so that life could destroy itself. Their thoughts were selfish but their actions pursued death.

They, too, had been interrupted. There must be a force that worked behind the scenes that carried out the agenda of the light and sustained an indestructible element of love against the tide of life’s malfeasance. Six ponies in particular had been called by this force, and received fragments of its own nature in the form of kindness, generosity, loyalty, honesty, laughter, and magic. Before they met each other they were bound together and destined to use these elements to interrupt Nightmare Moon. Luna’s course was reversed, and she only sacrificed for, protected, and cherished life, though her intentions were baffled by the Empress.

That Celestia had been steadfast in selfish malice; in the face of love she delighted in her despise of life and her ill-gotten pleasures. What was meant by the word evil that was not true of her heart? Though she was born immortal, the legacy she willfully carried meant that she was always destined to die. That was the only natural and fair outcome.

Recent events had begun when she felt that something was wrong. She had felt it more and more strongly up until the moment she was cast down. Then she had felt it, seen it, tasted it, even smelled it—but still could not put it to words. Only now did she know that what she could feel was the pure truth that it was wrong. Society was wrong, she was wrong, life was wrong. Its fundamental decision to undo itself by evil was the wrong choice. Life should continue to react, not to itself but to its source. In gratitude it should build itself up, through molecules and minds. The hearts of the living should, by selflessly offering love, fulfill the intent with which they were set in motion. Life did not create that love, but should accept it.

The consequence of her defiance to the mysterious mover had been meted upon her directly, and not through her own kind. But instead of simply reacting to her, it had exalted its own nature when it refrained from completing her just destruction in that moment. Mercy was displayed for her against all Equestrian logic. The same six ponies that had been brought together by unknown paths to aid her sister had been brought together again, not by her but for her. The same intent guided the book into her hooves even while she was fighting it. Soldiers had captured the book, but it had captured their citadel.

The author! Finally, here was a face behind these things, even if it was one she had not seen clearly. Before she was born he wrote the book for her and sent it to her. Three times she was shown in fable that the only possible result of her evil was death, and once she was shown in reality. But he had been with her and kept her from her death. He rescued her three times in illusion and once in life. He completed her reaction by dying her death, and finally interrupted her. He gave her heart his love and his life, setting her in motion on a new course. He had offered it, and the act was complete when she accepted it.

Celestia wept.

Why did he die? It should have been her. She had it coming, but he interrupted. A heart with such unearthly love should not die.

Now she was supposed to live a normal and contented life. She was supposed to live a small and essentially selfish life, and leave the world alone. He could have saved the world without her, but chose to use her. Having become such an instrument, was she expected to remain motionless? Deeper still, having accepted his love, was she not to return it?

She was supposed to be cold.

Flashes above her drew her attention. From behind the moon, shooting stars appeared and streaked across the sky, burning up over Ponyville. The beautiful shower was a beautiful gesture. From the vulnerability of her state she received her sister’s gift with childlike wonder. Luna could be so severe, but she had also become so caring.

Celestia stood and reached out with her magic, pulling solar wind down from its proper course. It was altogether too impractical and immense a feat to spend on an effect so transient, but the love in her heart had to reply to that which was sent. It took planning to set up a proper aurora; but she gathered one bright green ribbon to arc over the land. The meteor shower stopped, and she waited expectantly. More streaks came out of the black, flying in the formation of a heart. It was so cheesy, but she didn’t care. She fell back down, laughing through her tears.

She laughed for another minute, but that too turned to weeping. Luna was blessing her in her start of this cold life that she could not accept. She cried for the bond they were just starting to form. She cried for her sister, whose blessing she would defy. Luna was showing the love that she had received. It was the source and her sister at the same time. How could the dear Princess not understand? The moon itself always reflected the light of the heavens. When it looked dark to those who watched from the ground, it was shining that light back into space to where it had come from. How could Celestia not reflect the love that was given to her? It was impossible.

The coldness was gone. The white flame inside of her would not allow it to grip her another moment. There was an eruption of light around her and she tumbled into a dimension of swirling ether.

Moonlight was the only thing on the grass behind the empty house. There was a gust of wind, and the back door slammed shut.

Comments

[Kolwynia]

I really liked this chapter.

The trial was pretty awesome. Interesting to see that the Equestrian court doesn't know what to make of the book. I find the whole problem that Celestia poses for those seeking justice to be fascinating. How do you judge a being that you need to keep your world going? Of course I wish the best for my favorite princess. Cheerilee's letter was a real "bring me back down to earth" moment. And then this last chapter... that was beautiful.

[Dawn Darkling]

3437111
I agree, it hurt to see the results of her selfish actions but the punishments were necessary. Nonetheless, it still hurts. Are we going to see full redemption for the former tyrant? I hope so. On to the next chapter!