XVII: Hero
“You sound… disapproving.”
Celestia turned around, and looked at her student. “Do I?”
Twilight suddenly felt sheepish, as though she had spoken out of turn. A light blush formed on her cheeks.
“A little bit…” She rubbed the back of her head. “I mean, considering what had just happened. You had just banished Discord, right?”
Celestia’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling, and her head bobbed back and forth before nodding. “He… was banished, yes. For the time being.”
“That sounds pretty heroic to me!”
Celestia was silent.
“And you don’t know if you deserved it?”
The princess waited a moment before speaking. “Well…” She paused. “I suppose I’m just remembering my surprise at the time, especially towards whom it was that said it. I was still wary of the citizens, and doubly so of Lucky Break, which made it all the more surprising. Coming from him, ‘hero’ was more than a simple title, especially since I knew the last pony he had considered to be heroic was… greater than myself. If I felt at all undeserving, that was why.”
“And what about the crowd? The zebras, and donkeys, and griffons, and diamond dogs, and the ponies – they did the same, right? After Lucky called you ‘hero’, I’ll bet they broke into applause and cheered for you, right?”
Princess Celestia shook her head. “No, they didn’t.”
Twilight blinked.
“They didn’t?” That was not what she expected. How ungrateful could a pony be?
The princess returned to her seat, sliding it forward towards the writing table.
“No,” Celestia repeated. “Consider what had just happened, Twilight. Discord, the very embodiment of chaos, had just appeared and scared them witless. Then, he had been expelled by a strange, unknown magic. After all of that, I imagine anything besides absolute normalcy would have sent them into shock. Many of them already were in shock. They just needed time to collect themselves, is all.”
She paused, allowing time for Twilight to write something.
“At first, I thought they were scared of me. Even now, I realize that may not have been too far off the mark, but I was thinking of it in the wrong way. Nevertheless, I was content to shuffle to a corner of the room, and simply let things happen while I stayed out of the way.”
Twilight looked up. “What did happen, princess?”
“Well, word got out extremely quickly. The whole of Canterlot knew about the events within the day, if not within the hour of their happening. Even during Discord’s ‘visit’, it was apparent something was going on. As I said, the courthouse doors were magically sealed, and fighting could be heard from inside. When somepony was able to get one of the doors open, the diplomats and spectators lucky enough to escape before they closed again went looking for help. I imagine they could hardly breathe as they told the story that had yet to even be resolved.
“Because of this, the moment Discord vanished, and his barriers with him, help had already arrived. Soldiers rushed in to ascertain the courtroom’s immediate safety, followed by medical teams to tend to the wounded. Panicking family and friends were forced to wait outside.”
Celestia shook her head, and sighed. “Discord… that fiend was the source of such misery. Nine were dead. I remember them all. A griffon, three donkeys, a diamond dog, a zebra, two Royal Guards. Joseph Baker, the last hieyuman. Thirteen more were wounded. Four of those wounded sustained crippling injuries. A shattered beak, a hewn forelimb, a pair of scarred, permanently blinded eyes. One diamond dog’s spine had been cut into, and everything below his waist ceased to function. Not to mention the psychological trauma everybody in that room experienced. Most recovered, but a select few just never got better.”
She shuddered at the memory. “It was awful. Simply awful.”
“Was Princess Obsidian okay?” Twilight asked. “And Cotton?”
“The princess was fine. Cotton was a bit worse for wear. Emotionally, she was surprisingly okay, despite being held hostage by the God of Chaos. Physically, a bit less so, but even then, she recovered.”
She picked up her teacup, rotating it back and forth in her hooves, idly examining the delicate patterns etched into the side. “She was a resilient little mare, Cotton Cake. The brightest optimist I ever had the fortune to know. Sometimes, it was hard to believe so much heart could fit into such a tiny body.”
“No lasting injuries, then?”
“Lasting injuries? Let me think…” She paused for a moment, tapping a hoof to her chin. “There was the burn on her face, and after taking Lucky’s knife to her shoulder, she walked with a slight limp on her left foreleg for the rest of her life.”
Twilight looked down to write, but paused before her quill touched the parchment.
“Wait. Burn on her face? Where did that come from?”
The princess briefly hesitated.
“Did I say that?”
Twilight nodded.
“Oh.” She set the cup down. “I only meant there were some scorches on her face from Discord’s lightning. But they healed without incident. The only lasting injury was her limp.”
A shadow of doubt passed over Twilight’s face as she stared at the princess, who simply stared back. After a moment, she returned to her parchment.
“Okay.” She took a moment to scribble some notes. “Anything else?”
Celestia cleared her throat. “Nothing much. The injured were cared for, the dead were… removed. Some of the Royal Magi came to magically examine everyone for traces of the profanity, but luckily, Discord’s influence was nowhere to be found. Compression bombs were indeed found in the basement of Canterlot General, and were summarily disposed of. All in all, after the initial shock, things were quite procedural, even when the Royal Guard came to apprehend me.”
Twilight’s ears perked, and she lifted her head. Had she misheard?
“Who did what?”
“A small squad of Royal Guards found me at the courthouse, and took me into custody. Under official orders, I was arrested.”
“Why?” Twilight asked, bewildered. “Didn’t they know you had just saved them? Why would they come for you? What could they possibly-”
Twilight paused.
The princess merely waited, watching the gears turn behind Twilight’s eyes.
“Obsidian. They came for you because of Princess Obsidian.”
**********
Celestia was outside the courthouse, lying with her belly against the stone and leaning against a nearby building across the street. A blanket was draped across her back, covering her all the way to the nape of her neck, where her pink mane flowed gently over the cloth.
She had begun to shiver, and could not seem to stop. A bank of clouds had rolled in over the valley, casting everything in a moody, bluish light. It was just barely afternoon, but the morning chill never seemed to have left, and with the clouds obscuring the sun, it had indeed gotten colder.
But the coolness of the air was not what made her shiver.
The warmth of that mysterious azure light had faded, and with it, the unbridled optimism that had filled her soul so thoroughly. A trace amount of that good cheer still bled through her memories, however, and it seemed to be doing constant battle with the trauma of what had just happened.
Looking around, she could see she was not the only one struggling with herself, nor did she have it the worst. It had been about half an hour, and the crowd had yet to disperse. If anything, it seemed to grow, at first with soldiers, then with doctors, and then with morbidly curious onlookers. Some of the victims of Discord’s appearance were still being helped away from the scene. Some, she knew, would only leave when they were carried away.
Cotton had been carried away in the cloth of a stretcher, as were Princess Obsidian, Apple Crumble, Clover the Clever, and many others, and after they were gone, Celestia did not know what to do. She had simply walked outside and wandered, aimless and lost. She did not stray far from the crowd, but her directionless meandering had been obvious.
Eventually, she had felt a hoof come to rest upon her shoulder, guiding her, not harshly, in a certain direction. She did not even look to see who it was until they stopped. Lucky Break had led her over to a nearby spot, and prompted her to sit and rest. She obeyed without objection. It was not entirely comfortable, but then, not many places open to her were. She imagined there was mutual fear between her and, well, everypony else, so she did not bother asking for help. Returning to Cotton’s cottage without her just seemed wrong. Besides, the distance from the courthouse, one of the innermost buildings of Canterlot, to the cottage, located outside the walls of the city, was a long one. She doubted she could make it on her weak legs.
Lucky had left, and five minutes later, returned with a doctor. The examination was brief; Celestia was declared passably healthy in less than a minute. Another two minutes later, Lucky had shown up with a scratchy purple blanket, and draped it over her. It was not until then that Celestia even realized she was shivering. She took it gratefully, and wrapped herself in it.
“Wait here,” Lucky had said.
So she did. Without another word, he left, and Celestia watched him go to do whatever it was that Commanders did in times of domestic crisis.
Since the events of the courtroom, the encounter with him, she had not spoken to anypony. The crowds, she ignored. To the doctors, she only numbly nodded or shook her head. She had even spared no words for Lucky, who seemed to be much of the same, silent persuasion. She merely watched, and, as Lucky had instructed, waited – for what, she did not know. Something. Nothing. It did not matter.
It was not that she felt traumatized or grieved. She could not, for she simply did not have anything left to give. Emotionally, Celestia was drained.
Which was why, when approached by four Royal Guards in gleaming silver armor, she made no move and no attempt to hide herself.
**********
“The compression has been defused?” Lucky asked. “All of it?”
Captain Garde stood at attention, legs straight and head high in the air. He looked straight ahead, even as Lucky paced back and forth in front of him. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh, yes, sir. I mean…” Garde trailed off, breaking his stiff stance for a moment before returning to it. “Well, they have not been diffused, exactly.”
Lucky continued pacing. “Meaning?”
“Um, it was discovered they were stolen from Canterlot’s own armory, I think. The Royal Magi that were sent to diffuse them saw fit to reclaim them instead, sir.”
“Hmmm…” Lucky stopped pacing, and looked at him. “Did we have any of the Maiden’s mages on site?”
“No, sir. There were some of ours that went to help, independent of orders, but they, uh, I believe they were turned away.”
“On what grounds?”
“It was business of the Royal Magi, I believe is what they were told.”
“I see.” He pondered for a moment. “Fetch me Lieutenant Trick. I want that compression inspected by one of our own.”
“Um, with respect, sir, the armory munitions do fall out of our jurisdiction.”
“I don’t care.”
Garde nodded. “Of course, sir.”
He resumed pacing. “Afterwards, Captain, I want you to find your personal guard, and set them about the courthouse. I doubt there’s any more danger, and I doubt they’re in danger of rioting, but we could use some semblance of order, here. Calms ponies down. In addition, there has been some friction between the foreign diplomats, both with other foreigners and our own. If a fight breaks out, I don’t care who started it, you stop it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucky knew his soldiers, and knew that that was something the even-tempered Captain Garde was good at. He did not necessarily have a silver tongue, but his meekness and mild manner were usually enough to diffuse tension. Even then, if all else failed, the stallion’s massive shield was excellent at deterring blows from their intended targets. Garde’s personal squad of earth ponies were similarly equipped and trained, making them ideal for the task.
Not only that, but ponies were panicking. The Royal Guard was doing the best it could, but he knew the situation could be better. The Maiden’s soldiers held a certain mystique about them, along with a healthy measure of hometown pride. The 21st was Canterlot’s own brigade; its citizens liked to be reminded they were part of the “winning team”.
“I want full gear and weapons. A little bit of ceremony wouldn’t hurt, either. Just be quick about it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir, Commander Break.”
“Good.” Lucky turned away. “Dismissed.”
Captain Garde saluted smartly and turned away, briskly trotting away in the direction of the Canterlot barracks.
The crowd of ponies thronged towards the courthouse doors, kept only at bay by a contingent of the Royal Guard, holding them at a distance so that the doctors and mages could work. Many were distressed, and many more were simply curious. Nothing this drastic had happened to Canterlot in a good fifteen years, since the uprising of old Ponyville’s avengers.
Some of their eyes had turned towards Celestia as well. It was Lucky’s intention to return to her side as soon as possible. No doubt they meant her no harm, but the attention was something he knew she did not need right now. He knew the face of emotional fatigue all too well, and at this moment, it was hers. She did not have the stamina to endure the stares of curious ponies, something that Lucky knew she did not handle particularly well. Especially since, from what he could tell, she automatically thought they were accusing her, all the time, of simply being an alicorn – an unfortunate state of mind that was not entirely ungrounded.
Lucky frowned. A state of mind that he had contributed to.
That would change, though. He would change. He would be sorry.
After all, what had he called her? ‘Hero’. It had been instinctual, the words echoing a memory long past, but never forgotten.
He found himself wondering why he had said it. It was the only thing he said to her, the words slipping past his tongue before he even knew what had happened. Perhaps it was only natural? At the sight of such confidence, everypony was reminded of how good it felt to have hope, and what a blessing it was to have a pony that inspired such hope. They may not have stomped and cheered, but he knew they were supremely thankful. The cheering would undoubtedly come later, after the story had circulated another three or four more times, and the whirlwind of emotion had calmed.
But that was just it: they did not cheer. They did not say anything. But he did.
He could have brushed it off as something that had ‘just happened’, but he knew it was not. Considering what he felt, this not entirely sudden urge to…
Protect her? Gain her approval? Lucky shook his head. He did not know.
Considering his feelings, he knew the word he had let slip was not simple accident. Perhaps she knew it too.
Lucky felt guilty about his actions towards her, as he supposed any normal stallion should be. It ran deeper than that, though. Celestia was an enigma, a puzzle whose pieces were falling one-by-one at his hooves for him to arrange. At first, he had refused to touch them.
Then, she had given him a nine-word hint, and nine little pieces had fallen neatly into place.
That had gained his attention. He was still afraid to arrange them, afraid of the disappointment that might lie at the puzzle’s completion. His heart could not take that kind of loss twice. Or maybe, it was his mind that was afraid, and his heart that was eager. After all, Equestria’s denizens may have been desperate, but the title of ‘hero’ was a powerful one, not an attribute Lucky himself was quick to assign.
In any case, he decided he should really apologize. Again. His last apology was not insincere, necessarily, but it had been more tactical than anything. He had needed her on his side to fight this war. Now, he simply needed her on his side.
Plus, since his last apology, he had broken her jaw. He owed her for that, too.
“Commander!”
Lucky gave a start, and shook his head clear, looking for the source. Wheeling around, he saw Spell Trick, his unicorn Lieutenant and chief mage of the Maiden’s Battalion.
“Reporting for duty.” He locked his legs, and gave a smart salute.
Lieutenant Trick’s coat was an icy blue, and his mane a light tan. Over his back, he wore an official mage cloak, nearly identical to the garb commonly worn by all unicorns of high military rank, save for the many cargo pockets, which had been custom sewn into the side. On his face was a pair of thin, wiry spectacles. They gave him the appearance, accurately, of an intellectual.
“Ah, yes.” Lucky paused, trying to remember why it was he had summoned his lieutenant. He gave a quick glance in Celestia’s direction. She was still lying there, leaning against the wall across the street, idly examining the crowds with a docile expression on her face. Lucky gave a quiet growl as he saw some curious ponies getting too close for comfort.
“Sir?”
Lucky gaze lingered on Celestia, before turning back to his lieutenant. This would not take too long.
“I have something for you,” Lucky said.
“Excellent,” the unicorn enthusiastically replied, “but before we begin, Commander, I have a question of some importance. May I go examine the compression that Discord used to threaten the hospital?”
“No,” Lucky replied, cutting the air with a stern hoof. “I need you to…” He paused. “Wait, what?”
“Discord’s compression bombs,” Spell Trick said matter-of-factually, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I know they’re in the armory and off limits, but I find it very intriguing. We assumed he had a pony ready to blow them onsite, but the Magi reported no such suspects. This leads me to believe that he was ready to somehow detonate them remotely, which means Canterlot might still be in danger.”
Lucky blinked. “Did you tell them?”
“Yes, but they won’t let me in. The guards said they don’t trust me with explosives.” He looked to the side. “With some very mean words.”
Lucky unconsciously nodded. Trick was too curious for his own good. Nevertheless, this was something Lucky wanted him to do.
“You know they won’t let me in either, Lieutenant,” he warned. “Not without requesting in advance.”
“I know.”
Lucky raised an eyebrow. “So you’re asking for my permission to sneak in.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t ask any of the other times because…?”
Lieutenant Trick shrugged. “That had nothing to do with the Battalion, or the safety of Canterlot.”
“And how do I know this isn’t just for your own curiosity?”
“Oh, it is, sir. But I feel it’s important as well.”
“If you get caught again, I’ll deny I had anything to do with it. Again.”
“I know.”
“Good. Gods be with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He saluted again, adjusted his glasses, and took off, zipping through the crowd of ponies.
“Good,” Lucky murmured aloud. He turned towards Celestia. Now to…
Lucky paused, a hoof still hovering in midair. Gradually, he set it back down. Peering across the square and through the churning crowds, he saw a thin purple blanket in a heap on the ground, fluttering without an owner in the breeze.
**********
A tiny particle of moisture hit her square in the nose, making the skin around it tingle and shiver. The raindrop seemed disproportionately small compared to the amount of sensation it provoked, as if it had pierced through a layer of numbness. She brought a hoof to the top of her snout, and wiped it dry. One of the guards cast her a sidelong glance, but they did not stop moving.
Celestia cast her eyes heavenwards. The bluish, pre-evening clouds seemed to have gotten even darker and deeper, painting the sky on a gloomy blue-to-grey scale. Another meager raindrop hit her just above the eye, and she flinched at the contact. The condensation was just heavy enough to trickle down between her eyebrows, following the curve below her eye and carrying itself off of her cheek.
She wondered if the coming rain had been planned, or was an accident. It was the beginning of May, and still technically a rainy season, but sometimes, the weather crews departed from schedule to have mercy on the city goers. Surely they had seen the crowds in the streets and by the courthouse. Or maybe that was the point, to disperse them with a passive-aggressive show of force?
Regardless of the coming weather, when Celestia had idly looked behind her, she had seen a trail of followers, lagging behind her and her Royal Guard escorts. There were not many, not enough to be called a crowd, but certainly enough to be noticed. There was no chance this many ponies were heading in this direction at the same time by coincidence. She looked forward and, after that, did not turn around again.
She wondered where exactly they were going, though she supposed it was obvious. Criminals went to prison.
When the squad of guards had surrounded her, she did not know what to expect, and partially did not care. They told her that she needed to come with them, and said that they acted “at the behest of Princess Obsidian.” At this, Celestia had been mildly surprised for two reasons: one, that justice was being so swiftly enacted in the wake of such confusion, and two, at the way they had phrased it, making it sound as though the princess had given the order herself. When Celestia asked, one of the guards had tersely confirmed that Obsidian was indeed awake and on her hooves.
That was the last thing Celestia had said. The rest was self-explanatory.
They had been walking for about fifteen minutes, when she realized she did not know where Canterlot’s prison was. The direction they were heading surprised her; instead of traveling away from the palace, they traveled alongside it, heading in a westerly direction towards the mountain wall side of Canterlot. Maybe they had built the prison close to the palace, to keep a more scrutinizing eye on it? Or perhaps the palace itself had dungeons, buried deep underground in the rock of the mountain.
Celestia may have been resigned to her fate, but thinking about it did not make her feel any better. She moved among her guards with her head stooped low, allowing herself to be guided by the noise of their hoofsteps and periphery sight of their shining silver armor, which, at the moment, did not seem to be so shiny.
They stepped into the greater market square, and made their way across the center. Nopony seemed to be hawking their wares today. Another raindrop hit Celestia just behind her ear, and another one on her spine. Both sent chills through her body.
“Halt.”
Celestia’s ear twitched at the sudden voice amidst the relative quiet, and she almost bumped into the guard ahead of her as all four came to a stop.
She looked up. They were at the western doors of the palace with the grand double staircase in front, the same entrance at which she had first met Clover the Clever those weeks ago. A Royal Guard stood at either side of the door, spears in hoof, looking down at the new arrivals. The door guards briefly examined them before nodding to each other and closing the distance between themselves, putting their hooves on the massive brass rungs near the door’s center. They pushed, and slowly, the doors creaked open.
Celestia just stood there, head tilted and staring at the open doors, until one of the guards gently nudged her forward towards the left staircase. She resumed walking, staying in between her escorts as they ascended the stairs, but her eyes did not leave the entrance. She never did get used to the scale of the Canterlot architecture; the doors were massive, the stairs were long, and the towering structure above them seemed to pierce the gloomy sky.
What were they doing there? The western entrance put them on the second floor of the palace to begin with. Did they have jail cells somewhere above ground? In the palace, no less?
They entered the main hall, and the double doors were pulled closed behind them, slamming shut making the halls reverberate with a bass echo. Celestia shook her head, tousling her mane to rid it of excess moisture or dirt. She also tentatively unfolded her wings, slowly flapping them twice. Not much was shaken loose from either; mostly, it was to stretch and stimulate herself to a state of greater wakefulness. It only partially helped.
They resumed marching, though at a slightly slower pace. Not much was different from her last visit. Even the eerie, echoing silence was the same, though she thought it strange, especially considering the time of day. Normally, the halls would be bustling with royals, diplomats, strategists, and other ponies whose job required them to take residence in the palace. Celestia supposed that most of them had been at the courthouse meeting, but the remaining ponies must have been evacuated when news of Discord’s attack had spread. This left the halls utterly silent, save for the hooves of four guards and one alicorn clopping against the tile floor.
The overcast light coming in from the windows was not enough to illuminate the hall, and so the magelight lanterns lining the walls had been activated. The white light they provided was not dim, but it seemed almost depressing anyways. Celestia would have greatly preferred to have lit a candle, or an actual oil-burning lantern; the yellow-orange light they cast was much more pleasing to the eye. The magelight lanterns seemed to be convenient, though – it took them much longer to burn out, and required minimal effort to activate. In any case, Celestia imagined her opinion counted for very little at the moment.
The main hallway was lit well enough, but many of the side paths were left completely dark, especially the ones that did not have windows. Eventually, they turned off the main path, and she was led through darkened corridor to the side. It was wide enough for only two ponies at a time; they had to adjust their formation when they entered. As they went, one of the guards leading, a unicorn, sent small jolts of power to the magelight lanterns hung on the walls, lighting their way as they went and casting elongated shadows when they passed.
Considering the dark, windowless, somewhat chilly corridor, Celestia was beginning to think that maybe jail cells in the palace might not have been such an extraordinary thought. That was, until they reached the end, and climbed a spiral staircase to an even higher floor.
They entered another hallway, brighter and more comfortable than the last. The floor was carpeted, and the magelights were more frequent. Wooden doors of decent craftsmanship stood on either side of the hall. Paintings were hung here and there on the walls. The walls themselves were pleasantly decorated, featuring an array of colors, the most predominant of which being the traditional Canterlot purple.
Celestia’s brows furrowed as she looked back and forth between either side of the hallway. The jail cells of Canterlot were the height of luxury – its lucky criminals must have been the envy of all the ne’er-do-wells in Equestria. Either that, or they were not going to a jail. She suspected it was the latter, but could not imagine why.
Her curiosity won over. She cleared her throat.
“Where are you taking me?” Celestia asked.
All at once, the squad of Royal Guards stopped. For a moment, she thought she had made them mad. The leader turned to her and spoke.
“I told you,” he said, keeping an official tone of voice, “we act under orders from Princess Obsidian.”
“Yes,” Celestia replied, nodding. “Orders for my capture, right?”
The unicorn seemed to falter. He gave her a curious look, squinting and tilting his head forward, before exchanging a meaningful glance with the guard to Celestia’s left. After a short moment, he drew himself up, regained his composure, and took a breath.
“Wait here.”
The guard walked forward a bit, leaving his squad in place, and gently rapped on a door to the left. A soft, muffled reply came from the other side, and he entered. Celestia perked her ears forward. Even from the small distance, from beyond the open door, she could hear his quiet words.
“Milady, the alicorn has arrived.”
Whoever else was in the room said something she could not hear, and a moment later, the guard returned to the hallway. The other guards cleared the way, and he motioned for her to follow. She stepped forward, and he swept his arm to the side, prompting her to enter the room. She stuck her head forward first, cautiously peering around the corner while the rest of her body was still moving forward.
“Milady, may I present for your pleasure, the alicorn Celestia.”
Celestia’s head was low and her hoofsteps were cautious, almost as if she was sneaking in, but her eyes darted all about the room. Not unlike the hallway, the room was predominantly purple, but with some warmer, more inviting colors mixed in as well. There was a bookshelf, a bed, a dresser, a mirror – all the furniture of a normal living space, albeit somewhat more luxurious that what could be considered normal.
Windows lined the far side of the room, letting some natural light stream in, but most of the light seemed be coming from a fireplace, burning pleasantly under a stone hearth along the wall. In front of that fireplace was a table, set with tea and cushioned chairs for two. One of them was already occupied.
Celestia stopped dead in her tracks, eyes locked on the unicorn before her. Her jet black mane and burnt tan coat were unmistakable in the flickering firelight.
“Greetings, Celestia. I do not believe we have been properly introduced.” She spoke with a Trottingham accent, pleasant, practiced, and clear. The unicorn rose from her seat, and approached her. “I am Princess Obsidian, unicorn representative of the United Council.”
When she drew close, Obsidian put her hoof forward towards Celestia. She flinched away from it, drawing one hoof of the ground as she leaned away from her. Undeterred, the princess took the initiative and grabbed her hovering hoof before she could withdraw any further. Celestia’s heart skipped a beat at the contact, and she shut her eyes.
She felt her hoof move up and down before Obsidian released it. She reopened her eyes. It had been a simple hoofshake, and nothing more.
Princess Obsidian smiled pleasantly, as though Celestia’s reaction had been nothing out of the ordinary.
“Well met, Celestia.”
Her tone was formal and utterly polite, a complete reversal of the princess Celestia had seen earlier that day. She did not know how to respond.
Obsidian turned her head and gave a strained cough into her shoulder, followed by a dainty “pardon me.” Without missing a beat, she looked over Celestia’s shoulder towards the guards at the door.
“Thank you very much, Captain Jolt. You are dismissed.”
The unicorn in golden armor shifted uncomfortably. “Pardon me, milady, but I must insist we stay.”
“Oh?” the princess replied. “Why is that?”
The captain’s eyes flicked briefly towards Celestia. “For reasons of security, milady.”
Obsidian nodded knowingly. “I see. Good stallion.” She walked past Celestia, and towards the guard. “I thank you for doing your duty in both carrying out my orders and considering my personal safety, but in this case, you need not choose one or the other. My guest and I will be just fine, captain, and I really must insist you leave.”
The captain’s gaze wandered from her to Celestia, who was sitting on her haunches, frozen in what looked to be a full-bodied cringe.
“Captain,” the princess sternly interjected, recapturing his attention. She paused to cough again, before continuing. “I happen to know you have other duties at the moment. I would be grateful if you would attend to them.” It was not a request.
It was another moment before the captain gave a rough grunt, which, when the princess raised a stern eyebrow at him, he awkwardly transformed into a noise that was supposed to sound like he was clearing his throat.
“Yes, milady.” He assumed a stiff posture, saluted, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
It was silent as Obsidian perked one ear towards the door, listening to the telltale hoofbeats of the captain and his squad as the moved down the hall, and out of hearing range. Finally, when the only noise in the room was the crackling of the fireplace, she turned around and spoke.
“Finally,” she said, letting some of the formality drop from her voice. “I almost didn’t think he would go.” She walked past Celestia, towards her seat. “The Royal Guards are dedicated, that’s for sure. Loyalty is all well and good, but some ponies can just get tiresome, don’t you think?”
Celestia shook her head, as if she were coming out of some sort of trance. When she spoke, it was a dry whisper.
“I, uh… I don’t…” She shook her head, and trailed off, keeping her head tight against her neck, and her eyes low.
“Yes, well, they’re gone n-.” Obsidian paused, and gave another, raspy cough into her arm. “…they’re gone now. Goodness, I do hope you’ll excuse me, darling. I have the beginnings of a most terrible cold.”
She continued towards her seat. “That’s why I had this tea made. It’s perfect for such an occasion. Fortunately, I made too much. You’re welcome to try some if you like.” The princess reached her chair, and took a moment to settle in.
Celestia was still standing near the entrance, practically frozen in place.
“Gracious!” Obsidian suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward to peer at Celestia. “Pardon me, darling, but you’re shivering!”
Celestia looked down at herself. So she was.
“Please, have a seat by the fire,” Obsidian implored, magically pushing the chair opposite of hers a little further out. “It gets quite cold in this part of the castle, especially on dreary days like today. Come, get warm, and we can talk about what happened today.”
Celestia remained motionless. She seemed to be drawn into herself, every part of her cringing towards the center of her being. Still sitting on her haunches, her forelegs met in a tight V-shape, and her head was still pulled against her neck. Her wings, Obsidian could tell, were clenched and locked against her back.
Celestia gave a small sniffle, and Obsidian recognized it for what it was. She immediately rose again from her seat.
“Darling…” Obsidian crooned, walking towards her.
Celestia was shaking her head. Her shoulders rose and dropped in conjunction with tiny heaves of breath. “…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Darling,” the princess gently repeated. She put her hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. The alicorn did not recoil away from it; she did not react at all, except for mumbling a little louder.
“I’m so, so sorry…” she repeated, as if it were the only thing she could say.
“Celestia,” Obsidian interjected, a sudden change in her tone. It was forceful, but not unkind. She gently shook Celestia’s shoulder with her hoof. “Celestia. Look at me. No, no, look at me.”
She only drew her head in tighter, looking back and forth across the floor beneath her.
“Darling, stop this right now,” Obsidian ordered. “It is unbecoming of a lady.”
She stopped trying to look away. Obsidian lowered her hoof and waited. Gradually, Celestia raised her head, tentatively bringing her eyes to meet the princess’s. They were full of fear, remorse, and tears.
“We can talk about this like adults.” Princess Obsidian drew back a step. “Say what you mean to say, and say it to me.”
Celestia’s lips trembled wordlessly, and her eyes darted all around the room, resting upon anything and everything that was not the princess before her. Eventually, when it became apparent Obsidian was content to wait, Celestia drew up what little pithy she had and spoke.
“I-I’m just… I’m sorry…”
Her tone was apologetic, but not passionately so. In fact, her breathy sighs and simple, quiet, effortless crying made her seem more tired than anything else.
Princess Obsidian raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything.
“I’m sorry for attacking you like that… I was just so, so angry. And…” Celestia let out a quiet, involuntary gasp. “Everpony thought I was a… a monster… and I proved them right. I proved them right.”
It was gradual, but Celestia’s head had lowered all the way back to the floor.
“I deserve whatever sentence you pronounce.”
Obsidian regarded her coolly. After a moment, she spoke.
“Whatever sentence I pronounce?”
Celestia, still trying to stifle her emotions, made no reaction.
“Hmm.” The princess turned, and walked back to her seat. “Why don’t we come back to that? Celestia, please have a seat.”
It was a few seconds before she moved, but Celestia eventually stirred, and rose off of her haunches, slowly shuffling towards the chair by the fire. She sniffled, and wiped her nose on the way over.
“There we go,” Obsidian said, after Celestia had settled into the cushioned chair. “Much better. Here, take this.”
Obsidian handed her a handkerchief. She meekly accepted it, and dabbed at her eyes and nose. Celestia did have to admit, the warmth of the fireplace felt wonderful after the relative coolness of the weather outside.
Obsidian coughed to the side, and took a drink of tea. After a moment, she cleared her throat, and spoke.
“So, that’s all you have to say for yourself.”
Celetstia may have been emotional, but was still too numb, too tired, to think of anything beyond her own regret. Any justification for her action was lost in exhaustion, though, as she thought about it, there was not much justification to begin with. In the presence of the princess, regret was all she could feel, and it was all she could express.
“I’m sorr-”
“Ah ah!” Obsidian interjected. “No more of that. I would have hoped you could articulate just a little bit better. You remained conscious the whole time, after all.”
It was true, Celestia thought. She really had no excuse. Obsidian continued.
“I was attacked in my own courtroom, and for that, Celestia…”
She braced herself for it.
“…I am sorry.”
Celestia cringed, then quickly looked back up.
“W-what?” Did she hear correctly? Was the princess being sarcastic? Was she sorry for herself?
“I was rude, arrogant, hotheaded, uncivil – all the things that a princess should not be. I indulged in a petty contest of no real consequence. I stooped to name-calling, of all things. And then, I shouted the city’s best confectioner, and perhaps its most beloved citizen, into unconsciousness.” She coughed, took on a briefly pained expression, and clutched at her throat. She took a sip of tea, and continued.
“Eventually, somepony put an end to my madness, albeit rather roughly.” She rubbed at her throat again. As she ruffled the fur with her hoof, Celestia could see a black and purple bruise on the skin underneath, forming a ring around the front of her neck. “So, I am sorry. Sorry for the situation, sorry for Miss Cake, and sorry for what I made you do. Please, accept my apology.”
She coughed, more roughly this time, and for longer. “Pardon me, darling,” she said, taking another, larger than average drink of tea. “Ever since the incident, I’ve just had the most awful cold.”
Celestia said nothing, merely sitting there, processing the new information. Princess Obsidian, the rich, rude, snobbish royal that she had strangled only a few hours ago, was… apologizing?
“You need not accept it now, but I do beg you consider it,” Obsidian said, after Celestia was silent.
“No,” Celestia suddenly said. “I-I mean, yes, I do accept it. Or, I would, but…” She looked up. The tears were gone from her eyes, but they were still somewhat red. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, it is all rather strange, isn’t it?” Obsidian pondered, looking into the crackling fireplace. “I accept your apology, too, by the way. Make no mistake, I am not the only one in need of forgiveness. I don’t think I need to tell you that strangling royalty, or anypony for that matter, is not acceptable conduct.”
Celestia’s eyes fell, but Obsidian continued.
“However, considering everything that happened, who do you suppose is the real monster?” The princess paused to let the question sit for a moment. “It isn’t you, Celestia, and neither is it me. We may have done some monstrous things, but look at us now. I daresay at the moment we are perfectly civil. The only monster in that room was the demon himself.”
Celestia looked up. “Discord.”
“Yes,” Obsidian said, pointing at her. “Exactly. Without a doubt, the both of us, as well as many others in that courtroom, have things to be sorry about, but Discord’s influence changed things. Politics is always a bomb waiting to blow, if you’ll excuse the analogy. In most cases, we are very careful not to let it. But Discord… he knows how to push the right buttons.
“In any case, the criteria of ‘monster’ is harder to fill than you might think. Do not let yourself believe it, especially considering the hypocrisy of the one who prompted that thought.”
Celestia merely nodded, dabbing again at her face with the handkerchief. Was it all Discord’s fault? She knew it was not the first time she had felt like that, the first time she had felt a burning desire to simply do awful things. It always felt like a righteous fury, but this time, somepony had actually been on the receiving end, and the results…
She was not sure that she was entirely convinced, but the princess’s words did make her feel better, if only a little bit.
Eventually, Obsidian broke the silence, motioning to the cup placed in front of her.
“You haven’t even touched your tea. Why don’t you try it? I made it myself. It’s not too bad, if you’ll pardon my boasting. Go on, try it.”
Celestia looked at her teacup, and took it in hooves that now were not trembling quite so much. She brought it to her mouth, and took a small sip.
“It is good,” Celestia meekly agreed. She smacked her lips together after swallowing. “It tastes familiar…”
Obsidian nodded. “I thought it might. This is actually Clover the Clever’s recipe. I used to be her apprentice, for a time.”
Celestia took another sip, allowing herself to relax somewhat. “You were an Adept?”
The princess laughed. “Oh, no, I only wish I was that talented. No… when my grandmother, the old Princess Platinum passed away, Clover was the next most eligible to receive the title. It would have been me, but when the tribes united, they chose representatives for the United Council by election, not by succession. However, Clover turned it down, allowing me to be the unicorns’ princess instead. Being my grandmother’s aide for so long gave Clover vast political experience, which I was all too eager to learn about.” She gave a soft smile. “As it turns out, being a princess is difficult.”
“Difficult how?” Celestia asked, pleased the conversation was moving away from what had happened earlier.
“Well, I imagine you already know, at least in part. Being a princess means standing out, having all eyes on you, watching what you do, what you say. Every action you take must mean something, and if it does not mean something, then it does not matter. The ponies watching you will take it to mean something anyways. It’s very difficult to be one’s self when, as a rule, the act of portraying one’s self is looked down upon.
“Pay attention, Celestia, because very soon, you yourself will be in a position of power. As I understand it, you will be leaving with the Maiden’s Battalion soon, and if you think they will leave one of their potentially most powerful soldiers at the rank of private, you are mistaken. Even if that were the case, you represent a symbol of hope, whether you like it or not.”
There was a pause. “So I shouldn’t act like myself?”
Obsidian chuckled. “Did I say that? No, you should act like yourself. In fact, you must! Sincerity is the straightest way to a pony’s heart. But that’s the thing: there is a certain ‘self’ you must portray. Your best self. Your most confident, most brave, most inspiring self. But of course, if that were all, being a princess would be much, much easier. It cannot simply be an act; your image must be a reflection of your actions. Forget yourself – do what is best for your subjects, even if they hate you for it. Let reason govern you, and virtue guide you. Remember, you are not above the law; rather, you are farther below it than anypony else.
“The good princess asks for her people’s faith. The better princess deserves it.”
There was a brief silence, as Celestia contemplated the words. The better princess deserves it.
“Oh, listen to me ramble. I sound like the Master-Adept herself.” The princess gave a muted chuckle. “In any case, Clover was my political advisor, for a while. She taught me how to speak and act… and, of course, make tea.”
Celestia took another sip of her drink. “It really is good.”
Princess Obsidian laughed. “Thank you, darling.”
The room fell quiet once more. The tranquil crackling of the fire filled the air, interspersed with the occasional, louder pop. Outside, it had begun to rain with a little more intensity. The windows were hit with the occasional tiny raindrop, just barely big enough to condense and snake down the glass.
Celestia sat still in her chair, staring into her teacup, as if the curls of steam rising from the liquid held some hidden answer. Obsidian had apologized to her, something she was supremely surprised at, and perhaps just a bit suspicious of. Nevertheless, she seemed nice enough, and if her apology was an act, then she was an excellent actor. At least her advice seemed sound. She was contemplating what the princess had said, when a thought struck her. She sat still with worry, and did not voice it for a minute.
“’You are not above the law’…” Celestia eventually murmured. “I’m still going to be punished, aren’t I?”
For a moment, Obsidian was quiet. “For your actions in the courtroom, there must still be some consequence.”
“I see.” Celestia nodded, first to herself, and then to Obsidian. “Very well.”
Princess Obsidian took another sip of tea, and then a deep breath. “The decision of consequence would have been mine, but I decided to delegate it away from myself, seeing as I might have a bias. If you would, Celestia, please follow me.”
She rose from the table, and Celestia followed suit. Princess Obsidian donned a royal cloak and silver tiara. Slowly, they walked to the door, and exited. There were no guards waiting outside to escort them.
Celestia allowed herself to be led through the halls, through the twists and turns of the palace, until they reached a grand spiral staircase. They took it, and ascended four floors before coming out onto a landing and stopping in front of a pair of double doors. Here, there were guards waiting, but they did not seem to make any reaction to their presence.
Obsidian started towards the double doors, but was stopped.
“Wait,” Celestia said. Obsidian turned around, and Celestia looked away, sheepishly crossing her forelegs and tapping one hoof nervously against the tile. “Before we go in… what will the punishment be?”
“That isn’t for me to decide.”
“Then who did you delegate it to?”
Obsidian stared at Celestia curiously, seeming to ponder the question much longer than was necessary. Finally, she spoke. “Tell me, Celestia, why did you follow me here? When you could have easily escaped?”
She did not know. Because she had been resigned to it anyways? Because she wanted to let happen what was bound to happen? Because she was too tired to fight back? No, it was more than that.
“Because I want the right thing.”
Obsidian tilted her head. “And you believe this is the right thing?”
“The ponies of Canterlot deserve justice.”
“Yes, they do, don’t they?” Obsidian smiled. “They have waited for justice for many years, Celestia. Maybe you can give it to them.” She walked close, and put her hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. “You would make a fine princess, Celestia. But the citizens of Canterlot have something else in store for you.”
Obsidian lowered her hoof, and walked towards the doors. Celestia tilted her head and furrowed her brows in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?
Obsidian nodded to the guards, who moved to the center of the double doors, ready to pull it open.
“For your actions in the courtroom…” She paused. A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eye. “And I do mean all your actions, there must be some consequences.” Obsidian walked towards Celestia, grabbed her hoof, and gently pulled her forward. “Well, I have an idea. Why don’t we see what the citizens of Canterlot think?”
The doors opened, and they walked through into a mild, cool headwind. On the other side was not some jailer’s office, ready to dole out punishment, as Celestia had expected. Instead, they stepped out onto a great stone balcony, jutting out from one of the main palace buildings, overlooking the greater market square.
Below them was an enormous crowd of ponies.
The moment they walked out, every single one of the ponies turned towards them. They absolutely filled the square below, and pegasi dotted the near skies above. It was the most ponies Celestia had ever seen in one place, looking almost like one very large, very colorful ocean of spectators. Her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated to pinholes. She would have preferred the jailor.
Her legs froze up, but Princess Obsidian brought her forward anyways, aiding her own efforts with telekinesis. Finally, they reached the edge of the balcony, stopping right next to the railing.
Celestia only stood there, wide-eyed and motionless, terrified in the face of the only thing for which she had no real defense: rejection.
Princess Obsidian patted Celestia on the back, before stepping forward.
“Ladies and gentlecolts!” she called, using the Royal Voice. “Many grave things have happened today, in our beautiful city of Canterlot. The diplomats of many nations gathered in what was supposed to be a meeting of peace. Instead, they all bore witness to the horrors of one demon…”
Celestia could not focus. Obsidian’s voice was so loud it made her ears ring, and yet, she did not hear a single word. It was an official statement about what had happened at the courthouse that day, detailing all the events, and to Celestia, it was a blur.
She could only stare out at the seemingly endless sea of ponies, who all stared back. The pressure of their combined gazes was enough to crush her.
It had begun to rain, and none of them seemed to care. The drops were only light, and the wind was only mildly cool, but still the speech carried on. Celestia did not listen back in until she felt Obsidian lightly touched her arm.
“…and this mare is the one who, only today, banished that foul spirit who inhabited one of our own, Discord himself! She has saved lives and given hope to us all, and we are in her debt. Please show your gratitude towards Celestia the alicorn, Hero of Canterlot!”
If all attention was not focused on her before, it certainly was now. Every single eye for a mile around turned towards her…
…and every single pony began to cheer.
Celestia looked at Obsidian, who was smiling amusedly at her, nodding. She looked back.
They whistled, shouted, and stomped their hooves to the ground. Some of the airborne pegasi flew into the sky, returning with storm clouds and bucking small bolts of lightning from them. It almost seemed like an otherworldly event, the way the ground quaked with the hooves of the crowd, and the light flashed from the lightning, and the thunder resounded with it all. The cool blue rain was no longer numbing, but rather cleansing and purifying. It was as if some divine storm had been sent by the gods to show their favor of a single pony.
Most otherworldly of all, however, was the resounding chant that resonated from the crowd, hitting Celestia’s ears in wave after wave.
“Celestia! Celestia! Celestia!”
Celestia turned towards Obsidian, who had backed away from the railing. She was clutching at her throat.
“I don’t get it.”
Obsidian coughed horribly, but smiled through it. “What’s not to get, darling? For your deeds in the courtroom…” Her tone was raspy and dry. She coughed again. One of the guards brought her a glass of water, which she gratefully drank. “For your deeds, there must be consequences. It seems the people have decided that consequence is to deem you their ‘hero’.”
The crowd was still chanting. “Celestia! Celestia! Celestia!”
Obsidian practically gasped as she let out another hacking cough, clutching at the bruise around her neck. “Oh, maybe the Voice wasn’t a good idea…”
“No punishment?”
“Oh no, darling,” she said, waving her hoof. “Amnesty was granted almost immediately after for all involved. None of us were ourselves with Discord in the room.”
Celestia blinked. “You tricked me.”
“Heavens, no. All I said is that there would be consequences. Nothing more.” Obsidian smiled. “I’m sorry, a princess has to have her fun. That’s something else to remember. And you would make a fine princess, Celestia, but the citizens of Canterlot have something else in store for you. Or rather, the citizens of Equestria. Or rather, fate itself. As of now, it seems you are to be their hero. And now they know it.”
She broke out into another fit of coughs, and said no more.
Celestia turned back to the crowd, scanning it over. Her mane was becoming wet with rain, but she did not seem to notice. She was entirely focused on the happiness on their faces, the joy of their celebration, the energy in their tone.
“Celestia! Celestia! Celestia!”
Near the corner of the crowd, something caught her eye. It was a pony who looked like Lucky. Except, she realized, it was probably not. This pony was looking at her and smiling, just like all the rest.
She did not have too long to stare at whoever it was. A flash of lightning blinded her for but a moment, and when she looked back, he was gone.
“Celestia!”
**********
From pleasant dreams, she gradually awoke.
And they had been pleasant dreams. Or rather, it had been just one dream, and even then, to describe it as a dream would be difficult. There were no real images, or maybe there were, but they had been so surreal, she could not interpret them. Really, she did not care; she was content enough to float weightlessly in that blinding azure light, wordlessly happy about anything and everything.
Altogether, it had not been entirely unfamiliar. No, she was sure she had seen this all before. More than once, in fact. When the angel had helped her in her workshop, when the inventor had first opened up his home to her, when her father pointed out her newly earned cutie mark... all of these instances, and many more, the light had flashed not into her eyes, but through them, and she had felt absolutely sure of what she was doing. It had always been like the punchline to a good-natured joke that had never even been told, but for some reason, it was just so funny anyways.
At the time, she had felt it, but had not truly noticed it. Now, floating in the light, the scenes played out before her, and she retroactively noticed the happenings. It made her want to sing, grin, and laugh; to praise the Pantheon in realizing just how truly blessed she was. Rather than any of this, though, she simply kept her peace, at ultimate ease, drifting in the blue light. In these troubled times, it was the ultimate gesture of faith; not only to know that everything would be okay, but to be optimistic about it. Everything would be more than okay. Everything would be wonderful.
Even still, she had to wake up. Though she was loathe to leave such a beautiful, immaterial vision, she desperately wanted to see her friends. She wanted to tell them about her dreams, if only because she had a sneaking suspicion that she would soon lose her grasp on the dreamscape, as one often did.
And so, from pleasant dreams, she gradually awoke.
Cotton stirred beneath her bed sheets, a smile on her face before she had even opened her eyes. Her smile faltered just a bit as she returned to her body; there was a rather sharp pain just below her left shoulder. It was only a physical reaction, however. The optimism in her heart remained unfettered.
Cotton’s eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment, but she quickly realized where she was: Canterlot General, the city’s hospital. Above her was a perfectly white ceiling, accentuated by the magelight hanging directly above her, which was partially blinding, and not in a good way.
Her ears twitched as she became aware of the activity around her. The doctors were busy, that was for sure. Metal trays clattered around, ponies spoke to each other, and many hoofsteps could be heard. It was not overly chaotic, though; if Cotton had to guess, she would say the situation was mostly under control. Even if it was not, she doubted she would have minded. Everything seemed to be muffled in her ears anyways. Her dreaminess had not quite worn off, and for that, she could not complain.
Suddenly, somepony came into view, blocking some of the light coming from the overhead lantern, and letting the rest filter through a screen of pink hair. Cotton grinned.
“Celly!” she exclaimed. Her voice was quiet, but still surprisingly full of energy.
“Cotton!” Celestia smiled back, just as wide. Carefully, she came forward, and embraced her in a tentative hug. The pain in her left shoulder spiked as she tried to move it, but Cotton did not complain. How could she?
“I’m glad you’re okay, Cotton,” Celestia spoke into her ear, still hugging her. They drew apart. “We were worried. How do you feel? You were sleeping like a baby until just now.”
“Oh, I’m great,” Cotton replied, still grinning. “A mare needs her beauty sleep. How do you feel?”
The events of – today? Yesterday? She did not know – were blurred and confused in her mind, but Cotton remembered something had happened, something worth asking about.
She looked surprised but pleased by the question. “Me? Oh, I, uh...” She trailed off, and laughed, rubbing the side of her head. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m really good!” Celestia leaned in, and spoke to Cotton in an excited near-whisper, as if the information were confidential. “Cotton, ponies really like me now!”
“Really?” Cotton returned in the same voice. “Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy for you!” She did not understand how it came to pass, or what Celestia truly even meant by it, but looking at her shining, happy face, of course Cotton was happy for her.
Cotton slowly raised her head, and swept her gaze across the room. In a bed to her left was Clover the Clever, propped up on some pillows and deeply engrossed in a book. She seemed to be in an okay condition, especially considering her age.
Around her own bed were other visitors. Of course, there was Celestia, propped up on the bedside with both of her hooves, which was strangely reminiscent of a certain hospital visit only a week and a half before. Nearby, she saw Lucky Break, standing behind Celestia, and impassively watching them both. His stare was not unkind. With her good arm, she gave an enthusiastic wave. He awkwardly returned it with a brief wave, a nod, and a slight smile. Across the room, a pony’s boisterous laugh caught her attention, and she saw Apple Crumble talking to one of the other patients. One of his wings was bandaged, and he had a black eye, but other than that, he seemed fit enough.
Her sweep ended on at her bed on the right, which held a sleeping unicorn; she recognized his face, but couldn’t remember his name. Thunderbolt, Silverbolt, something like that? He was part of the Royal Guard, she knew. One of his eyes was wrapped up in bandages. She would have to reintroduce herself later. Which reminded her...
“Oh, Celly!” Cotton eagerly said, her eyes bright. “I almost forgot!”
Celestia raised her eyebrows, but smiled amusedly. “Yes?”
“Did you meet Coffee yet?”
There was a deep silence. Celestia’s smile faded, and her expression, which had been so happy only moments before, seemed to darken. Her gaze dropped, and she pushed off the bedside, her forelegs dropping to the floor. She was still at head height with Cotton, but her eyes had strayed elsewhere.
A chord of worry struck Cotton’s heart. “Oh no...”
Celestia lightly nodded.
“He made a bad impression, didn’t he?” Cotton said. Celestia raised her head again; this time, she was the one that looked worried. “I’m always telling him, be nice to strangers, but he never listens! Don’t worry, Celly, he’ll warm up, if you give him time.”
Celestia shook her head. “Cotton...”
She tilted her head. “What?”
Celestia paused, and for a long time, it did not seem like she would say anything. After a while, Lucky stepped forward, placing his hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. She looked back at him, and he nodded. Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be pushed gently back, remorse clear on her face. Lucky took her place at Cotton’s side.
“How is your shoulder, Cotton?”
“It hurts a little.” Her tone was curious, but her expression was painfully naive.
Lucky cast her a pitiful look.
“How much do you remember from yesterday?”
Cotton felt her heart quicken, and her blood rush faster. The sounds of the infirmary, which before had been muffled in her ears, were becoming clearer and louder, almost too loud. She felt her own temperature rise. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she had no idea why.
“Not very much.”
Lucky sighed. After a moment, he drew a deep breath, and spoke.
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I sense some disturbance in this story.... i'm not sure.
Poor Celestia had a busy day. So many crazy things going on.
So what was the purpose of Coffee? He was kind of pointless.
Well that was unexpected. Wonderfully so.
I hope all that 'hero' business didn't go over her head...
Obsidian kinda reminds me of Rarity. Looks like we already have two ponies reminiscent of the mane 6 (with Cotton reminding of Pinkie).
Well, the last human was something of a red herring... Unless elements of that are going to make a return some chapter?
He's got something to do with cotton I think anyway, father or husband of her turned pony, which may be why her magic is wonky, but I'm just speculating here
awesome chapter as always
Sounds rather interesting. I shall track and read when I can.
1419099
His purpose was to make sure there's a revolver with 1 bullet left in it in the story.
1419070
i.chzbgr.com/completestore/2008/8/21/isenseadistur128638069543811593.jpg
1419483
I'M SO SORRY WHY CAN'T I JUST LEAVE HAPPY ENDINGS I'M A BAD PERSON A BLOO BLOO BLOOOOOO
1420525
Obviously! No story's any good without a little Russian roulette.
1420566
1419149
Seconded. That was Rarity to a t. And also Celestia's future role model when it comes to princessing, I'd say!
Oh dear. Telling somepony like Cotton about her friend's death... That must be like carving out chunks of your heart with a rusty spoon...
Edit: Coffee, pointless? Discord showing his joker-esque love for personal cruelty both grand and petty was well revealed, no? After all, after wiping out his entire species, he took the time to torture Baker some more before ending him. He could've done that at any moment, but that wouldn't have been the same as before the eyes of Celestia.
1420566
Seriously the gun might as well have a big sticker on it saying, "for dramatic slaying of a villain at a climactic moment only."
Of course Discord might cheat story convention and use it himself.
1419099
That's the point. His death was pointless. It's supposed to be pointless. Just like that, Discord casually murdered the last member of a race. He butchered an entire species. For no reason.
I've kind of decided to stop getting antsy over your chapter releases and how slow they seem to be. (Not that they are! It's just.. I'm an incredibly impatient person when it comes to things I like. <.<)
Anyway, my point being, you releasing a chapter is like..a cold shower after being outside on a 100+ degree day.
That terrible, TERRIBLE, analogy aside. Loved the update, can't wait for more.
You're out there, dying in the heat, wishing you could be anywhere else on the planet, and then you go in and feel the water, and it's as if you now own the greatest thing ever given to man.
Ah, there's the Unicorn Princess I was waiting for!
<3 I like her!! 
...but... Coffee... I'm not to sure what the point of him was really... he was put in the story and then killed almost at once. Didn't really get a chance to get an emotional connection to him myself. I'm more worried about Cotton and HER reaction... which of course could very well be the point of Coffee... but because each chapter is upload 1 at a time it does through it off and make it more of a "hu? he's dead already?" but you've lead us a merry trail and it's been a good run so I trust ya!!
And I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with next! It's kinda nice having you still updating! A lot of the stories I was reading have stopped updating with the new school year... so it's nice to have your excellent works coming out. :
Keep up the good work!! 
1420761 Colt please, Discord is crazy enough to use it ON himself.
Also I expect Lucky and Cotton to hook up. Lucky after all has a weak version of Pinkie Sense. Hell he even had a combo to warn of incoming arrows when he first got to Canterlot.
1420756 1419149
Heh, you guys aren't the only ones. Some of the editors' first comments about Obsidian in the gdoc were...
"Now seems like a good time to mention that I've basically been visualizing Platinum (Rarity) for Obsidian the whole time." -Cheesedork
"welp, now I cant unhear that anymore. Obsidian now has Rarity's voice." -ElusiveShark
...Yep. It wasn't entirely accidental, but I did mean to distinguish them a bit better. Oh well!
1421768
But hey, I'll try and get them out as fast as I can, I promise!
But still, it's like, yeah, someone wants the next chapter to come out! Good motivation, and all. 
Hey, man, I'm no stranger to poor analogies. Just look at my own first comment on this story!
Edit: As a side note, I did kind of enjoy your particular antsy-ness. Not to say I enjoy watching my readers squirm...
1422211
School is for losers! (And bums who have no life outside of writing like meeeeeeeeeee!)
1422291
Lucky x Cotton... now there's a thought...
Seriously? There's been no thought of Lucky X Cotton? Dear lord... I've become that one brony who ships everypony. Help me... by posting another chapter
1423554
I believe you're the first one to make that connection in the comments, at least! Though, to be entirely honest, the editors and I... we have a lot of fun with shipping everyone with everyone (and everything).
Seriously, to give you an example, there was a theoretical romantic sub-plot between Celestia and that black cloak she wore in chapters 9 through 12. It consisted entirely of goofy gdoc comments and skype chats, in which a desperate Cotton must compete with Cloak's ever growing romantic influence on Celestia. In the end, it was quite touching.
Celestia x Cloak star in "The Fabrics of Love".
1423705 Is it wrong that I miss that cloak?
Btw if you ever need another editor, don't ask me. But if you ever want someone to bounce idea's off of or need idea's I'm always available. Seriously, I spend 6/8.5 hours of my shifts having nothing to do other than watch camera feeds and read/write ponies.
1423726
It needs to come back.
I miss that cloak, too.
But yeah sure, sounds good, man. I wouldn't really know where or how, though. I am somewhat averse to giving out my skype details, since I like to keep my contact list on there short, though I might anyways. Um, fimfic's irc channel, perhaps? I used to hang out there, for a time.
Whatever the case, I think it would be really cool to group chat with people, and get opinions and ideas and other stuff you might not see in a normal comment!
(As a semi-related side note, I have considered putting out my Gamertag for Xbox Live, just to see how many people would show up for a romp around the ol' Halo: Reach matchmaking. It'd be cool to have a huge party of spartan bronies.
)
1423512 Hey writing is AWESOME! xD I personally need to get around to writing more myself xD
1423705
Heh, CottonxLucky
I know of one person who would be particularly upset over this...
1424519
Somewhere, an editor's eyes flew open in rage.
1419099
I believe "Coffee" could have done with some more sympathetic character building before his death seeing as how he holds various titles such as "The last hieyuman", "Top engineer of the Equestrian army", and "Friend of Cotton". His death can still play a significant impact without feeling forced but it will still be harder for us to register the loss he represents emotionally since we didn't know him to well or for very long. He was an interesting character and was on his way to making us like him but died too quickly to really take hold as an important character in the story. Equestria knows him well and witnessed him first hand, we just saw a few redeeming moments that told us he was worth getting to know.
1425935
Given that this is Celestia's story his death really doesn't have an impact on her or us really.
I was going to post a "I sense a disturbance in the force" comment involving the storyline, but it's been done here several times already...
so here is something else.
denver.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw6245-Mother_of_me....png
Here, the sum of my emotions at what will have to be explained to Cotton about Joseph Baker
God this fic is truly really criminally under appreciated the despair is terrible
1423554
>Lucky X Cotton
That...that actually sounds good!
1425533
Haha, inside jokes
On that note, Cotton x Lucky is really quite an adorable notion
Shame about that
On that... quarter note: hop to it, fanart makers!
What have I started... And how am I the one who started it? Seriously, this felt like a very obvious ship to me.
That was a beautiful way to introduce Celestia to the art of leadership and governance. I have really enjoyed her evolution in this story.
I can feel the tears coming.
1426041
Considering she learns enough about him later on to be able to give that account on the human final stand (sorry but I don't need to keep making sure I spelled that other name remotely right) She might learn something from him even after he's dead thus, while it will be difficult for him to play any emotional part in the story, he might still hold some sort of significance despite his relatively replaceable position. Just saying the we shouldn't condemn him to being pointless already, the author still might do something or decide it's just too big of a train wreck and drop the subject. Either way, I agree he could have been handled MUCH better but I think it's still to early to say he was a worthless plot element.
1439152
Thank you! It was one of my editor's ideas, actually, to make mention of what it takes to be a princess while she and Obsidian were talking. Rock on, Neighkodemus.
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Oh, just you wait.
As a side note to all of those who might read this, I will say that this isn't the last we've seen of Joe. I've been hesitant to comment about it until the chapters are actually out, but I'll just go ahead and tentatively throw that out there. Though he really is dead and gone, his importance to the story doesn't stop there.
Still a bit bummed coffee is dead. Totally going to reduce the number of LoZ references
Tia, what's the deal with Cotton's lasting nonexistent burn? You're hiding something.
For shame, Obsidian. I would expect a princess to speak properly, with verb tenses that match her subjects.
DONT DRINK THE TEA! THE TEA IS POISON! ---- ya the whole time, that was running through my mind.
Aaaaaaand we have our Rarity.
Not so sure about Clover as Twilight anymore, though. Yeah, she's smart and knows a shitload of magic, but nothing in her personality or mannerisms has really linked her to Twilight so far. Maybe if Midnight Shimmer ever appears "onscreen", she'll turn out to be a much better fit.
Dammit Joe. You just couldn't stay alive could you.
Aftermath chapters are always a fun read for me, and this one did a great job of winding down last chapters tension. Some things I found of note:
Cotten's burn was either so much worse than the other deaths and Celestia's near murder (bad enough that she doesn't want to mention it to twilight), Celestia was getting ahead of herself and the burn comes later, or she's hiding it for some other reason.
Heh.
Looks like some unexplained tension between the 21st and the Royal guard.
I was hoping Obsidian would turn out to be a nice, respectable princess without discords influence, and she didn't disappoint.