Chapter 5: Celestia
Chapter 5: Celestia
The shadows of past sins have a way of creeping back into our life, no matter how hard we may try to keep them buried. Whether it is Sombra bursting out of his crystal tomb, Discord breaking his stone prison, or a dark memory knocked loose from the depths of our soul, we can never escape our past.
I am woken to a low wail that vibrates through my bedroom. Rushing to the door, I open it to find my nephew, Blueblood, reeking of alcohol and sobbing pitifully. He must have been resting his upper body against door, because as it opens, he plops into my quarters. I take a step back, but he makes no effort to stand. He is content to just lay there, sobbing and crying and occasionally screaming at the invisible phantoms that haunt his soul. I am only thankful he is too drunk to use his magic.
“Fuck you, dad,” he screams. His billowing breath, drenched in Tokay, makes me gag. His eyes are opened wide and frighteningly bloodshot. His forehooves are bleeding, and it look as if he has left a trail of blood through the castle. A pair of royal guards quickly enter my room, having been following Blueblood no doubt. They are frightened. I can see it in their eyes.
“You would have hurt him, or he would have hurt you,” I say. “You did the right thing guiding him to me.” The two guards bow their head curtly and head off, hopefully to ask the nightshift janitor to wash the blood off the floors and walls.
Despite how unpleasant Blue smells and sounds, I am happy he is here, where it is safe, rather than rampaging around. Blueblood is a large stallion, after all, and with intoxication comes a callous nature towards others. With his physical strength alone he could harm somepony, to say nothing of his magical prowess.
“I was thirsty,” he cries. “I just wanted a drink. Was that so bad?”
I use my magic to pick him up. Like a colt, like he used to do, he cuddles in the golden embrace. Before I even have to cast a sleep spell, he has slipped into drunken unconsciousness. I set him on my bed carefully and trot to his side. By the sun, he reeks. At least it was wine he binged on, and not that revolting laudanum concoction he mixes to help him sleep. Despite the repulsive smell, I inch closer to him. Yes, he is safe in my room with me, but I fear he will drown in the alcohol before the sun rises. There is only one method to purge him of the taint, though. Holding my breath, I almost touch my lips to his. A spark of golden light passes between us. Burning the alcohol out of his veins is not an easy spell, but I am an experienced mage.
The smell of burning fades, as do the unpleasant smells. I can breathe again, and Blueblood stops sweating and whining in his sleep, slipping into deeper comfort. I hold my breath for several moments still, afraid that he might start convulsing, but it seems he is alright. I lean forward to softly kiss him on the cheek, like I did when he was a little colt, when he was my little prince.
There is a knock on my door, though since it is already open, Luna is simply being polite and waiting in the threshold before stepping in. Oh Luna… by the sun Luna, I just want to…
No, no time for that Celestia. You have to be strong. That’s the thing: a lot of ponies think I’m perfect. Why shouldn’t they? I work hard to maintain the façade of benevolent ruler of Equestria, whose heart is unburdened by doubt, or fear, or pain. I let them think my hooves are polished white, even though they are more blood drenched than Sombra’s. The idea that I am guiding light in the darkness gives the ponies hope, and what right do I have to correct such a notion? So I smile at my dear sister and I act like nothing is wrong despite the sickening worry in my heart, and the fact that Blueblood is passed out right beside me. “How are you?” I ask. What else can I say?
“A guard told me of a disturbance. Is my nephew alright?”
I look to Blueblood. With the alcohol no longer poisoning him, he looks normal. The reek of booze has burned up, though Luna’s sensitive olfactory sense may still pick up some traces. How much does Luna know about Blue, I wonder? How often has he dreamed about his father, and how many of those dreams has Luna seen? Best to play it safe.
“Blue has been going through some things lately,” I say. “He drank the tainted water in the Cave of Fears just as I did. It has unearthed memories that would have been better left buried.”
“Our past has a way of creeping into our present.”
I shake my head. “Tomorrow I will sit him down and talk to him. I should have spoken to him about this matter already, but I cannot find the proper words. Aristrotle wrote, Happiness is best achieved with truth, but in our darkest hour, can we find happiness in a lie? Do I have the right to shatter the delusions Blue clings to? Should I destroy the last vessel of hope in the name of truthfulness?” Again, I shake my head. “Forgive me, dear sister, I must sound like Star Swirl during his later years.”
“Tia, I have the utmost faith in what you chose to do, but…” Luna’s nerve seems to falter. “Forget it,” she says with a shrug.
She walks to the balcony of my room to fly off, but lingers at the railing. I walk over to her and settle down at her side. Together, we stare at the moon and the twinkling stars. They are organized in one of her favorite patterns, one she has dubbed Sonata after a song by Miss Octavia that inspired it. In many ways, I am envious of my sister. I wish I had her creativity and her talent. Being older, I suppose I have always been a slave to routines and order, while she was freer in spirit. “What is wrong, little sister?” I ask.
“I have seen your dreams,” she says. “Every single night, you relive your every failure: Chrysalis, Discord, Spike, King Gilford, … me. Every night, there is another burden as you take the blame for every miniscule problem this empire faces. I know for a thousand years you have carried such burdens, but you are no longer alone. I just wish you could understand that.”
I smile. “You sound like Blue, you know. Your words make just as much sense as his, and yet I am too weak to adhere to them. For a thousand years I have walked my lonely path. Inertia has sunk its claws into my soul and refuses to me go.”
“No time like the present, Tia.” Luna looks back, into my bedroom and at the bed where our nephew is laying. “I have seen his dreams too. Even before he drank from the tainted pool, they racked his heart and threaten to break his very soul in half. I have tried, time and again, to help him, but time and again I fail. Perhaps together we will finally succeeding in putting his heart at ease. Will you help me, Tia?”
I nod my head slowly. Before I know what is happening, Luna and I are no longer in my bedroom. The sun is on my face. There is gravel beneath my hooves. About three steps before us is Blue, standing there, back arched and teeth clenched like an angry feline. He is watching his younger self and his father. In this memory, Blue can’t be much more than five years old. Despite how large he is now, he was always rather small as a child. It wasn’t until well into his teenage years that he gained several feet in height and put on a few hundred pounds of muscle. When he was young, he was thin and sickly, with a large head and cute, big, blue eyes. He wore his mane short as well, almost shaven. Most likely it was at the insistence of his father, though I do not know for sure. Until I adopted him, I didn’t spend much time with him, but when I took him in, he let his mane grow out.
Blue’s father, Commander Purple Heart, was a well built and tall stallion. This is Blueblood’s memory though, and Blueblood remembers him as a hunk of muscle, supported by a quartet of thick, strong legs and regal, polished hooves. His size actually dwarfs me, which means he is an absolute giant compared to the youth. His fetlocks are tightly trimmed, yet his mane is worn long and elegant. Perpetually, it billows in a non-existent breeze. Despite Blue’s mother being an earth pony, he took after his father to such a degree, it is almost frightening. They both have creamy white fur and long, golden locks of hair for a mane and tail. If they ever somehow stood side by side, Blueblood as an adult and Purple Heart how he was last time I saw him, they would be identical in build. Aside from their differing cutie mark, it is only their eyes that mark a true difference. Not just the color, mind you. Blue’s eyes are soulful and full of glistening life. Purple Heart’s were tired and dead from the decades of battles he has seen.
I have never met a stallion like Purple Heart. When he was a commander in my army, I trusted him with my life, with the lives of my little ponies, and with the fate of all of Equestria. I entrusted him with secrets that could never see the light of my day, and he remained steadfast and loyal. In the years without my sister, he was a pony I loved and confided in every night. I adored seeing little Blueblood, but there was always something odd about the young colt.
It was when Blue ended up in the hospital with a puncture in his throat that I began to worry. Purple Heart said that Blue had been playing around with a rapier and accidently stabbed himself. I believed him, because he was Purple Heart, a stallion I could trust, but I had my suspicions. I began to watch Purple Heart and Blue a little closer. He was strict with his son, and pushed him very hard, but there was nothing that might imply something sinister. I told myself it was nothing, just needless suspicions. I convinced myself nothing was wrong, just as I did with Luna a thousand years before.
Luna drapes a wing over my back. This is the dream world, where size is a thing of the mind. I am not sure if I have forced myself to shrink, or she has decided to grow, but we now stand shoulder to shoulder. I rather like it. Together, my sister and I trot to the “real” Blueblood and settle beside him, myself on his right, Luna on his left.
“He made me run,” Blue says through clenched teeth. “He made me run until my hooves were worn to the bone and I left prints of blood in the sand. If I ever stopped, he swatted me until I rose again. He said that’s how he trained recruits. He study without a break for days on end or my muscles in the gym until they broke. Every day, he did that to me.”
Exhausted, the Young Blueblood collapses forward. By the sun, I want to rush to him and hug him, but that won’t do anything. He is simply a phantom of the mind, without shape or form. My heart still aches at the sight.
Commander Purple Heart uses his magic to retrieve a bucket of water and places it in front of the youth’s parched lips. Eager for a taste, Young Blueblood plunges his muzzle into bucket to gulp the water down. Furious at the perceived defiance, Purple Heart places his hoof on Young Blueblood’s nape and stuffs his snout down, into the bucket. Exhausted not a moment before, Young Blueblood sparks to life and begins to struggle.
“I just wanted a drink,” Blue screams. “I ran your miles, just like you wanted, and I just wanted a drink!”
Young Blueblood is fighting and struggling. His hooves dig at the ground, trying to find purchase so he might free himself. Even when he plants his hooves firmly, however, he has no hope of fighting the weight of his father. Purple Heart holds his hoof there, forcing Young Blueblood to slowly drown in the snout high water. Again and again, he digs and grinds at the soil, until his resistance starts to slow…
With an explosion of golden light, my younger self appears. Oh yes, I remember this day all too well. Blue probably fancies me a merciful goddess, sweeping in to save him. In fact, in this dream world, I am taller than I should be. It’s what Blue remembers, not what actually happened. The fur of my younger self glows white, and her wingspan is grander than a dragon’s. Her crown is large upon her head, and her rainbow mane stretches and floats in much the same way Purple Heart’s does. With a blast of gold, she sends Purple Heart stumbling and tumbling away. My younger self uses her magic to pick up Young Blueblood and they both disappear in an explosion of sunny gold.
“I tried,” Blue says. “I really did, but it was never good enough. I was never good enough. If I ran a mile, I should have run two. If I could lift twenty pounds, I should have lifted thirty. Every time I reached the goal, you pushed it farther and farther away. Nothing I did was ever good enough for you.”
I stretch a wing over Blue’s back and use it to squeeze him a little closer to my side. Blue shakes his body and charges at his father. Lunging like a timber wolf, he passes through the illusion and ends up face first in the ground. Undeterred, he lifts himself and faces the mirage. “You changed it,” he screams. “I did everything for you, but it wasn’t enough, was it? I wasn’t enough!”
“Yes you were, Blue.” I trot to him slowly and softly nuzzle against his nape. “I know this is difficult, but your father loved you, truly and deeply.”
“Bah!” he shouts. “He jumped at the chance to return to the war. He couldn’t wait to leave me behind. And why not? I’m a royal fuck up, after all. Just a pathetic half-breed mud pony groveling at the hooves of a bunch of goddesses!”
“Blue…” I start.
“Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. Even if he was alive today, and he knew about the cave, about the burns, about you, he would have wondered why it took me so long to find you; or why I didn’t take charge of Equestria in your absence. Nothing is good enough for him or you or Equestria. No matter what I do, I’m always just the royal fuck-up.”
“Tia,” Luna says, coming beside me. “May I show him?”
I know what Luna refers to. It is a memory I relive every night. With a slow bow of my head, I give my consent, and she uses her magic to take Blueblood and I through the realm of dreams and memories. Like melting paint, the world around us shifts and blobs through a rainbow of colors. Somehow in the muddled haze, Blue returns to our side and I place a tentative wing around him. This time, he leans into me a little closer.
As the world returns around us, we are in a room of the Royal Canterlot Hospital. The walls are polished white, as are the bed sheets, the furniture, and the floor. Young Blueblood is laying on the hospital bed, eyes closed, and the short strands of his gold mane one of the few marks of color in this new world. His hooves have been wrapped, but ugly red stains the white bandages. My younger self is sitting beside him, staring at him. This time, Luna goes forward and tries to comfort my younger self, only for her hoof to pass through the shimmering mirage. I can tell Luna is embarrassed about it, but truthfully, it is a touching gesture.
“What is this?” Blueblood growls.
“I swept you to the hospital and waited while you recovered,” I say.
The door behind us opens and Commander Purple Heart trots in. This is my memory, and so he is closer to his normal dimensions. Or, at least how I remember him to have been on this faithful day. He looks old and haggard. Beneath his bloodshot eyes are heavy bags, a stark contrast against his otherwise creamy white fur. He is dressed in his usual attire: a purple dress jacket with a black button shirt beneath and a purple bow tie around his neck. He sits down on the other side of Young Blueblood’s bed, opposite my younger self.
“How is he?” Purple Heart asks.
“Severe dehydration and a sprained ankle, and some ribs that have never properly healed.” My younger self closes her eyes. Opening them, she looks back to Purple Heart. “Tell me you have been poisoned and you are not accountable for your actions. Tell me a dark force has taken hold of your soul and tainted your perceptions of right and wrong. Tell me anything to explain what I saw.”
Purple Heart uses his magic to take a flask from his breast pocket. It is silver in color, with an ornate P.H. engraved over the front visage. Unscrewing the top, he puts it to his lips and takes a long gulp before answering my question. “I want him to be strong. I want him to live up to his potential and stand as a guardian of Equestria and all her allies. When the griffons finally regain their numbers and march against us, or the bug swarms sweep through our towns, I want him to stand as a vanguard of our kind.”
“He is only a foal,” my younger self says.
“The burdens that he will carry do not care for age. This is how my father strengthened me into the stallion I am today, the stallion that has served you faithfully for all these years. When I was Blueblood’s age-“
“He is not you.”
“I am making him strong!” he screams, slamming his hooves on the ground. “You of all ponies should know of the sacrifices the few must make for the many. You made a choice with your sister, and I have made choices with my son. What is the difference?”
“What I did to Nightmare Moon was necessary,” my younger self says. “What I did to Luna was unforgivable. It was a last resort, and I made a choice to save all of Equestria instead of my sister. Even should Luna one day return, I am irredeemable for that decision. How dare you compare drowning your son for the crime of thirst to what I did. Do you value your son? Do you feel any sense of love for him?”
Purple Heart closes his eyes and looks away. “How can you ask such a question?”
“This is only the most recent crime I know of. I shudder to think what a detailed investigation will uncover.”
“I was disciplining him,” Purple Heart snaps. “I was counting the seconds. I was just about to pull his head up when you intervened. You act as if I intended to murder him. All I have ever wanted what was best for him.”
“So you beat him?” my younger self asks. “You crush his bones beneath your hooves and you think that will make him strong? You seek to break him into pieces so you may rebuild him in your own image? I could have used a cloning spell if all you wanted was a hollowed out replica of yourself, and I would have raised Blue as a son.”
Purple Heart glares at my younger self. He takes another drink from his flask.
“Under normal circumstances,” she continues, “a trial would be held to decide your fate. Your many actions, both good and bad, heroic and monstrous, would be brought to light, and a jury would settle on a fair punishment.”
“Thrown at the hooves of a bunch of plebs and philistines who have no idea what it takes to keep this empire together. My actions will be twisted, and my name will be plunged into refuse and filth.”
“I agree, and so I offer you the chance of a second life.” Using her magic, my younger self picks up a small folder resting on the table beside Young Blueblood’s bed. She passes it to Purple Heart, who takes it and starts to read it over. “I beg you to accept exile, commander. I do not wish to serve as the overseer of an execution.”
“Since when?” Purple Heart snaps. He takes another gulp from his flask. “I may have carried out the orders, but you are the one who gave them. Handle the griffons raiders, keep the dragons at bay, cull those insects to the east so their population will not grow too large. Your hooves are more blood soaked than mine, and yet you stand so high and mighty before me.”
I’m good at hiding my anger, but in that moment, a spark of gold lances up my younger self’s horn. It fades before she can do anything.
“The folder has all proper documents for passage into the Griffon Kingdom,” my younger self says. “I have made a deal with King Gilford to grant you amnesty if you would like to remain there. If instead you would like to travel to a distant land, Gilford will aid you.”
“Bah, griffons,” Purple Heart spits. He takes another long gulp from his flask. “Foul, brutish creatures. Your sister should have drowned them all when she had the chance.”
I look to my side. The reference is lost on Blueblood, as his only knowledge of the Pony-Griffon War is what is in the history books. Luna is devastated at the reminder, though. I can see it in her eyes as the memories flood back. I want to hug her. I want to put my wings around her like I did when she was a little foal and tell her everything is alright. We are here for Blue, though. She knows that. Before Blue notices her distress, she puts on a brave face. She is far stronger than I give her credit for. Not that I think her weak, but she will always be my little Lulu.
“King Gilford is doing a great service for me,” my younger self says. “While you are in his kingdom, you will treat him with the utmost respect. The story to explain your absence from this empire will be that you were sent north and fell in battle against a dragon uprising. You will forever be regarded as a hero. Your many feats will be sung in praise.”
“A trial where my name will be dragged through the mud and may end in my execution, or exile from the land I have helped build? What of Blue? What of my son?”
“I will raise him as my own. I will kiss his bruises, I will tuck him in at night, I will see to it that he receives a proper education. I will be a mother to him.”
“And he will grow up without a father.”
“He has never had a father. This may be the only good thing you ever do for him.”
“I have done everything for him!” the commander screams, suddenly on his hooves and staring at my younger self with fire in his eyes. “Every battle, every scar, every cruelty and horror that I committed has been so he would not have to do the same, but if he must, he must be strong.”
The commander lowers his head and closes his eyes. Opening them, he takes a final gulp from his flask, downing whatever is left, before passing it to my younger self. I remember my disgust in taking it, but I did and set it on the table.
“When my father retired,” Purple Heart says, “he gave that to me. It belonged to his father, and his father before that. When Blue reaches an appropriate age, and he has become the hero of Equestria that I know he will be, give it to him. Tell him how proud I am of him.”
“It will be done,” my younger self says.
Reaching forward, the commander strokes the creamy fur on Young Blueblood’s cheek. “I just want him to be strong,” he says. “I don’t want him to fail those who put their faith in him. When the challenges he must face present themselves, I want him to be ready."
"He will be ready."
Purple Heart smiles. "Someday he will be great, and all of Equestria will sing his praises.”
I look to my side, to Blueblood. He glares at me. “Stop this,” he snaps. He turns to Luna and pushes against her with his girth. “Stop these petty illusions. Let me wake up.”
The world around us swells and melts into the ugly black, though that is quickly replaced by a blinding, smothering white. I feel the physical sensations of the waking world. At some point, my body had decided to lay down on the ground. I put my hooves beneath me and rise to my full height. Blue is shuddering and hoofing at the ground as he wrestles with the flood of consciousness. I want to help him, but I know better, and soon enough he is righted and his eyes are wide. He turns to me with a look of fire. “Why did you show this to me?” he asks.
“Your father wasn’t a monster, nor was he a god. He was just a stallion like any other. I wanted to show you the truth about him.”
“The truth?!” he screams. “The truth is my father was a hypocritical monster and yet the history books paint him as a light in the darkest times of Equestria. He beat me, he abused me, but you allow his name to be sung with praise!”
“I couldn’t destroy his name, Blue. He gave everything to Equestria and he broke himself in the process. If the truth of him came out, all his military victories, all the treaties he brokered, all the tactics he introduced, would be turned to ash.”
“Maybe his name should be destroyed. You have no trouble doing such with mine when it is in your favor. I saved you, I burned for you, and who knows of my deeds? You throw me to the wolves so that your name can remain intact, and all of Equestria can still think I am some sort of drunken fool.”
“It is not that simple,” I say slowly. “Would you enjoy your life under constant watch? Would you enjoy spending every day hounded by photographers? Your life scrutinized to the bone? You despise spending one night in public at the Gala, do you really believe you would enjoy the title Hero of Equestria, mares throwing themselves at you, stallions wanting to fight you to prove their name? I know of your deeds, as does Luna, as does Twilight and...” I bite my lip, but finally admit, “Your father knows as well.”
There are other reasons I kept the truth out of public record. If the changelings or the griffons knew of the poison water in that cave, I shudder to think what they could do with it. I had a rancid choice to make and I made it. In that moment, I did what I had to.
“Never speak to me,” he snarls. “Never speak to me again.” With a burst of his magic, he breaks the door to my quarters off the hinges and gallops into the hallway. I take a step after him, but Luna places a hoof on my shoulder.
“I will watch over him, dear sister. Right now, he just needs time.”
My vision is blurred with my tears, so I cannot see Luna as she moves towards me. I can feel her though. Oh, she feels delightful against my chest, as do her arms as they wrap around my long neck. “Was it the right thing to do?” I ask. “No, I know my decision was wrong, but was it the best of any?”
Luna hugs me tighter. "Celestia, the burden placed upon your shoulders would break a lesser mare. You did what you had to. Neither good nor bad, but neccassary."
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My grandfather was a great man. I've loved and adored him, and to this day I can't visit his grave because it just tears me up inside.
"I have sinned against my eldest son, and I can never take it back." is what he once said. Said son worked himself to the bone to be able to afford creating a life for himself on a different continent because he couldn't bear his father's presence anymore.
It's funny how things can be, isn't it?
The feels, oh god the feels.
I'm going to side with Blue on this one, Celestia fudged up pretty bad
I'm sympathizing more with Celestia on this one. Blueblood's the victim, yes, of both parties-- But if he'd stayed with his father, who thought 'counting the seconds' could really determine when his son would drown or aspirate, Blues stood a good chance of ending up with a severe case of death.
Good to see a new chapter, by the way!
4432601
You know what wouldn't surprise me? That Purple Heart, if he ever learned of his son's severe mental problems, will lay the blame squarely at Celestia's hooves.
After all, he only meant for his boy to be strong; but Celestia mollycoddled him. No wonder Blueblood is a mess.
Sometimes the biggest lie we tell ourselves.
4430724 Parental issues. Been there, lived that.
4431857 A reason this chapter took so long was that I wanted it to be up to the reader about who was in the right. And while there is the obvious things that are wrong, like, you know, child abuse, was Celestia completely in the right to lie to Blue, punish the father instead of seeking to help his obvious PTSD, etc. So if you have any more thoughts about why you think Celestia fudged, I'd be interested to hear.
4432601 Yeah, Purple Heart... I hope he at least came off as somewhat tragic. A big problem I see with that family is they work themselves to perfection and end up breaking themselves in the process. Purple Heart broke himself fighting Celestia's black ops. Blueblood broke himself seeking his (dead/exiled) father's approval, which he could never gain because his father wasn't there any more.
It seemed like Celestia was somehow hoping that Blue would somehow miraculously get over an entire childhood of abuse from his father by being shown a single memory that he actually cared for him. That might have been good enough for her, but for Blue that wasn't even anywhere near enough to even consider forgiving him, after all actions speak louder than words, and the only things Blue ever received from his father were beatings and emotional abuse. Then when Celestial realized that that memory did nothing for Blue, she tried justifying her past actions with that flimsy and hypocritical excuse, which Blue called her out on.
Or at least that's what it seemed like to me.
4454112 Mmm, interesting way to view it. I both agree with some things, and disagree with others. But that was the point of this chapter, to allow people to interpret and make their own conclusions about why Celestia kept the truth from him, and only now gave it to him (is a happy lie better than a painful truth), was it right to preserve Purple Heart's legacy as a hero, and was it right to keep Blue's actions in the previous fic from the public? So, well, Celestia did have her reasons for everything she did if they aren't always clear. But, she's not infallable, and some of the things I think were wrong. But my goal isn't to write a perfect character, in a perfect story, who does everything perfectly. She makes both mistakes and decisions that, while "right" have horrid consequences.
4436052
Purple Heart is a walking turd, so why should Celestia give a tinker's damn about any thought or opinion he has?
I can't help but keep thinking about how blueblood is 36.
Why doesnt this have more views/favorites/thumbs up? I can't figure that part out.
But Exilo, how would the ponies know about Aristotle?
It had to be done
Anyways I can't tell you how glad I am to be reading this
The amount of stories that tend to make any villain or hero a cardboard cutout with no characteristics other than "asshole" bothers me to no end.