Celestia's Collection

by Proper Noun

Chapter Two

The conversation was awkward, at first. It always was. Sometimes, Celestia would forget the ponies in front of her used to be lethal weapons, but they would always say something bizarre or callous enough to remind her. Imparting her essence upon them during the transformation did give them a degree of empathy and pony values, but never a complete understanding. It had to be that their values were minimal - torn from Celestia's own essence, the alicorn herself would otherwise be compromised. As much as she wished to make them more complete ponies, she knew Equestria needed her too greatly.

She would, however, take her time. Small talk would lead to trust, and she would confide whatever she wished to the ears of the new ponies. Nopony else could ever hear the secrets Celestia would impart to these once-weapons. She would be ruined, but was in greater need of a confidant than anypony. Once more, she found herself on topics that would see her overthrown, if ever they found the light of day.

"I only wish I did not have to tolerate the so-called nobility. Between them, they represent all that can be corrupt in a pony."

"You could kill them." Barbed Arrow, as the now-pegasus called himself, continued to display his apparently-typical sledgehammer approach to tact and problem-solving. His suggestions were on par with Luna's for directness. It was wrong. It was refreshing. The truth ritual insisted that she respond, and she told him she wished that she could, but just killing whatever troubled her would be killing herself from the inside out. Though her role was entirely unsung, founding modern Equestrian ethical theory had still left a permanent impression on her.

Unfortunately, she couldn't indulge herself with jokes, conversation, and confidence much longer. She knew the truth spell would end shortly before she had scheduled the dawn, and it was her duty to uncover the truth. As much as she would have liked to continue with the banter and gossip that sometimes helped her feel more like a normal mare, justice had to be served.

"So, Barbed Arrow." Celestia sighed, finally changing the subject from her irritation with the twelfth generation of the Photo family, notorious for their paparazzi behaviour. "What happened? You were found in the body of one of my little ponies. How did you come to be there? Do you know why it happened?"

"I was thrown by a string. I know why." The pegasus continued to stand exactly where he'd stood since his transformation. Perhaps mimicking them - the weapons - was why she'd come to practice the same stillness in her own ritual, Celestia thought. But she barely had time for such pondering. She had to extract the facts, point by point, tracing each action to another until she found the original source. The extreme literal way in which these ponies would answer questions made interrogation feel like talking to a stubborn child, but she managed. Her ponies were worth it. Justice was worth it. Even the former weapons themselves were worth it.

And slowly, the information came out. The string was part of a large crossbow. The crossbow was operated by a light blue magical aura. The aura was connected to the horn of a unicorn, and the unicorn's name was Stinking Rich. She had stood over the arrow and the victim's body after the deed, and gloated. Celestia had to restrain herself from rubbing her forehead and groaning as the story unfolded. It was partly her own doing that ponies didn't know how to be effective villains, after all.

"She told me I did a good job," Barbed Arrow told the Princess. "Then she said, 'Silver Ring, you shouldn't have gotten between my family and the Drakkenspine mines. You should've stuck to your silver, darling, and not tried to horn in on the gold that is rightfully my property.' After that, she ran away."

Celestia let the room become silent once more, not even bothering to sigh. The two wealthiest families in Equestria were always at each other's throats, even in legal matters. As jaded as her soul had become, she wasn't surprised that it had finally come to murder. Her decision could wait until she held court later in the day. Her internal clock, tuned by a few centuries of a clockwork-like schedule, told her it was time for the sun to rise. That meant her ritual's invocation had ended: she and Barbed Arrow were no longer compelled to speak truly, though honesty was her preference by far.

And truth was about to hurt.

"I'm sorry, my little pony. You cannot leave this room." The pegasus probably asked why, but she could not afford to listen. She had learned quickly that her heart was too soft not to heed the pleas of those who were condemned to such a fate as she was about to inflict on him. She spoke softly. "Slarevres fo het enarca; oryu mantetench si nodune. I am so, so sorry."

What sounded like nonsense to an unknowing ear was a simple, if costly, counterspell she had discovered in another old tome of Zebra history. She refused to watch its effects, but she knew Barbed Arrow's reaction would be one of bewilderment as the spell that made him animate was undone. He would struggle against his stiffening body and vanishing limbs; he would probably lash out against her in a desperate attempt at self-preservation, and she would deserve it, so she wasn't surprised when a hoof struck her squarely in the chest, knocking her backwards and taking away her breath for a few moments. As his body became closer to its original form, he would no longer be able to struggle, but she would still have to close her ears against his pleas until all became silent. Then she would allow herself to weep.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Inform your commander that Stinking Rich is to be arrested at once, and brought to today's court for sentencing," Celestia ordered. The guards on either side of the door saluted as she stepped out of the locked room, once more the false image of power and grace, and one of the stallions trotted away to follow her orders. She looked to the other, and as she spoke, she indicated the arrow she had brought with her from inside. "I shall be disposing of the weapon myself, as usual."

"Yes, Your Highness."

With official business over until it was time to hold court, Celestia went to raise the sun, hiding a tear as she tucked her sister's moon neatly beneath the horizon. Her duty was done, but she still ignored the breakfast she knew was waiting and headed to her quarters. In one corner was a vase that, when moved in a particular way and combined with a spoken pass-phrase, caused one enchantment to interact with another, opening a secret cubby. Inside were the original forms of every weapon she'd had to interrogate. She had stopped counting them at three dozen, and they were all varieties: spiked horseshoes, knives, daggers, bows, spears, and various improvised weapons, as well, all hung on racks or placed in appropriate cases. Barbed Arrow joined them, Celestia's magic sliding him into a half-full quiver of other various missiles.

After double-checking that she'd shut the door and was alone, Celestia permitted herself to shed a few tears once more, and pray that none of them had to suffer from full consciousness in their present state.

"I'm sorry, Barbed Arrow. I'm sorry to all of you. But one day, I will find a way to restore you, and give you lives. One day, I will know how to do better, and you will all be free. This I swear."

Comments

[Pen Expers]

Slarevres fo het enarca; oryu mantetench si nodune

Heh, easy. Reversals of the arcane, your enchantment is undone.

This story is weird, but interesting. I wonder of what use this spell is if somepony was killed with hooves or magical blast.

[Proper Noun]

3842448
The spells would be no use, in those cases.

You're the first person to mention figuring out the scramblegram thingy with that spell. (Alternatively, "You see what I did there. ")

I'm glad you liked the story!

[Deep_Thought]

... This story is thought provoking. Enough so to cause... Deep Thought.

In all seriousness you got me thinking about writing a story based off of this, with a few changes about exactly what she performed the spell on.

My idea is this. What happens when that spell is cast on an object that had a limited intelligence. Also what if that object was a healing device that failed it's job.

What I intend to do is make an incredibly cute character out of the results of when the spell wears off. Due to the limited intelligence the object remembers being a pony, and starts to act like one, except it is still small enough to hold in a hoof. Mainly for fun little random stories.

Thoughts?

[Proper Noun]

3877505
I'd probably read that, and I am rather flattered to have actually inspired someone. Thank you.

[Cryosite]

I like your dreams.

[Proper Noun]

3984964

[iamli3]

oh stories from dreams , that reminds me of one i wanted to make as well , maybe someday.....

[TheWraithWriter]

That was beautiful.

The whole premise is very interesting and the back-story intriguing a well. I feel slightly depressed after reading this, which is good, as it is a dark tagged story.

Very, very nice.

[Weird Dragon]

I'm thinking of making a group of stories inspired by dreams would you follow that

[Proper Noun]

4752219
Probably not, I don't do much on groups here. But feel free to start something regardless. You're probably not the only one interested.

[Snowstreak]

Still makes more sense than my dreams.

[Headlock1_0]

Great story! Very well done. I'm adding it to my liked stories shelf for sure!

[Proper Noun]

5384667

Oh hey, thanks for that. Glad you liked it.

[Headlock1_0]

5384715 You're welcome!

[nothingtoseehere]

Slarevres fo het enarca; oryu mantetench si nodune.

Zatanna?

[Proper Noun]

6350723

Not quite.

[NicLove]

Before I read it, what is the Dark tag for?
and how bad does it get ?

[jjrock7H]

this is why all murders should be committed with your own two fists.
they can't interrogate your hands.
and even if they could them hands will be doing only one thing, screaming.