Schedule Break

by SheetGhost

About Midnight

Chaos

The marble arches of Canterlot palace held. It was their duty to bear the weight of the ceilings on their backs, without rest, day and night, for as long back as anyone could remember. They seemed to bear the centuries of work with minimal fuss.

Their white surfaces cast in yellow by the light of the night lanterns, the arches seemed solid. No one saw the microscopic cracks forming, no one could feel the harsh weight of the ceiling pressing down, or the moisture in the air seeping into the hidden crevices, eating away at them with erosion and rot. No one heard the groans of the keystones as time and weight and water worked its painful magic.

Even Celestia was ignorant as she marched down the archways on an unscheduled midnight stroll, ministers trailing her as she made a kerfuffle. Her ancient eyes couldn't see the cracks until they were obvious, no alicorn magic could pierce the stone to divine the stress fractures within.

While ministers fussed and flurried behind her over her impromptu schedule break, the night guard were more discreet. There were no sudden team of soldiers flanking her, no shouts, no alarms or bells. The lady of the day might merely be restless, after all. Yet as she moved down the archeways, the guards began to double. Some were even clad in the golden armor of the day watch. Disciplined soldiers roused from their rest to stand guard like stoic statues, like parts of the archeways they rested their backs to. Ready, waiting, preparing for something that might never come and trained to battle monsters that they could never conceive.

Was that what disturbed her? Was that what stirred her from her royal bedchambers, to wander her sisters night? The guard with their tradition and discipline, crumbling into a ceremonial service. Soldiers who couldn't conceive of war, little more than a marching band.

Chaos is

The ministers buzzed behind her, talking but not saying anything. Did she need a glass of water? Was there something troubling her? Did her royal highness need updated on the irrigation project in some prefect or other? Was the weather in Canterlot not to her liking? It was too warm for springtime. They could make it rain, to bring the temperature down and ease her majesties sleep. Each anxious question wore on her patience like stones pelting her shoulder blades.

Celestia's wings flared to their frightening height, tips pointed to the curves of the arches above her. The ministers went silent. They waited for a moment, Celestia and ministers, until the princess regained her composure. The patience that fled her returned, and her wings folded against her sides. She turned to regard her ministers. They lacked their regalia. Their faces were worried and their eyes were bleary and bagged. They were afraid. For her? Of her?

She smiled down at the ministers. No, it was quite alright. No, she wasn't hungry or thirsty. Yes, she would like an update, but in the morning. No, there was nothing bothering her. The weather was quite perfect, thank you. She was just enjoying a quiet midnight stroll, she lied, a chance to enjoy her sister's night. She thanked them all for their concern, and requested that they leave her to enjoy the night in peace.

They apologized with profuse profundity. No intention to disturb her royal highness. They bowed and scrambled over each other to take their leave, like scolded children fleeing a cross parent. Still, even as she started back on her walk, she could hear the hoofsteps turning back, and even she was not so old as to not hear their whispered conversations as they hid behind the columns of the arches. Though, what they said she couldn't be certain. Concern or conspiracy? It mattered little.

Chaos is always

The rest of her walk passed without incident, as she crossed the ancient halls. She had no particular destination in mind, but as she walked a pattern emerged, an underlying order. She knew where she was headed, though she didn't want to go. She knew what had stirred her from her slumber and twisted at the currents that ran beneath the surface of her thoughts.

Mammoth doors swung open at the suggestion of her guardsmen, and Celestia entered the palace gardens. The moon was bright and full, the plants green and vibrant, the smell of leaves and stems mixing with the fragrance of flowers. The air was warm, but a gentle breeze came through like the tide, washing away the stale air before receding.

The grounds were quiet, the smooth voice of the wind made the flowers rustle, and the crickets chirped out their lonely soliloquies. If she craned her neck and listened, she could hear the soldiers on the ramparts. Indistinct voices and hoofsteps on stone. This was the closest Celestia would ever get to being alone in her gardens. As she trotted down the path, she almost wished her sister might spy her out and come to join her. The thought was both hopeful and distasteful. A rescuer, that's what she was hoping for, someone to take the burden of her late-night pilgrimage. It was beneath her.

All the same, she would have enjoyed the company.

As she rounded the corner of the hedge maze and entered the statue garden, she noticed that even with the tireless work of her gardeners, there were small parts of the path where grass and weeds encroached. The little imperfections made her nostalgic, they reminded her of the rolling plains and unsure paths of her youth, exciting, overgrown, and dangerous. Of course, things were better as they were now, and she made a mental note to speak with the head gardener, but she could be forgiven for remembering the feeling of wild grass against her hooves with a hint of longing.

Chaos is always seeping

And there it was, the source of her consternation. The unnamed worry that roused her, that weighed at the back of her mind like a rock splitting the current of her thoughts. A single statue hidden amongst a multitude so that no one would ever guess at its importance.

Draconequus.

It stood trapped in eternal boast, laughing at the very idea that it could be defeated. Defeated it was, yet neither the defeat nor the yellowing of age and weather seemed to dishearten the statue. It continued to sneer down at her, taunting her with horrible confidence. Never wavering, forever waiting. A trap ready to spring at any moment. A threat of coup d'état hidden in the whispers that always followed her. An ancient archway, too old to be salvaged, ready to give and collapse on top of her.

This was why it was important for her to be alone. Why none of her servants could watch her at this moment. The princess could be sad, could be angry, could be surprised, and none of these things would shake the confidence of her subjects. But to be afraid. That was something altogether different. If Celestia were afraid, the panic would never be contained.

Decades had passed since the last time Celestia had looked at the statue. It was good that the moon was so full. It was a careful inspection, first walking around the thing, searching for any obvious cracks. When she was satisfied there were none, she closed her eyes and focused. Her horn gave a gentle yellow shimmer. The sensing spell was simple enough, but to detect the seal one had to know exactly what to look for, something well beyond the average unicorn.

Nothing. The seal was still in place. The statue was inert. The Draconequus was defeated. Imprisoned. Unable to hurt anybody any longer.

Now, why didn't that make her feel any better?

She lingered for another few minutes, as she looked upon the solid specter with eyes darkened with sleeplessness and heavy thoughts. For the first time she became aware that her mane and tail were in complete disarray, her feathers were frayed, and her royal regalia was resting in her bedroom. The statue beamed down at her, as if amused at her disheveled state. As if this was all just one more prank on her. One more indignity.

Oh, he'd probably find this all quite funny.

Celestia turned her back on the statue, and stalked off into the night.

The statue continued to laugh to itself, a single arm outstretched as if presenting a show. One time only experience, Princess Celestia's feathers all ruffled, literally and metaphorically. And always, always the feeling of self-satisfaction lurking behind the laugher, for hidden beneath the surface layer of stone and magic, imperceptible even to Celestia's ancient gaze, cracks were forming. A hairline fracture was already hidden on the underside of its tail, too small for Celestia to pick out even on the brightest night.

Chaos is always seeping through.

The statue was pleased.

Comments

[Phoenix Quill]

A well written short piece, no real dialogue but the emotions came across well.

Also.... FIRST!

[Reader Wolf]

(whistles)
This is an excellent piece. The language is keen and the emotion carried in it are portrayed excellently.
The little italic messages are the cherry on top, and the final two lines are just chilling.

Great work.

[Siswitch]

The language used in this was very engaging. Even with no proper written dialogue everything was conveyed very well and artistically. One thing, even though it's subject to debate I could've sworn it's spelt draconequus (latin for dragon horse or an approximation of the sort) but other than I can't find fault in this. Superb work.

Also the last line sent a chill running through my spine

[GAPDashie]

Excellent one shot, especially with the suspense of the unfinished sentence about chaos.

"little more then a marching band."

Give this a quick edit and call it a day.

[SuperPinkBrony12]

This is good I guess this takes place between the end of Season 1 and the star of Season 2.

Also there is one other thing that the guards could've thought of as a reason for Celestia being up and about at night, she might have to use the bathroom (after all who knows for long she has to stay in the sky with the sun).

[SheetGhost]

Dear Princess Celestia,

Today I learned that sometimes, even though they may try their hardest, one proofreader might not be sufficient. You should be careful and cultivate relationships with many proofreaders in order to hide the gaping chasm of your own ineptitude.

I also learned that you can overuse the word 'ancient' and it will fly under all your friend's radars. Truly, English is magic.

Your Ancient Ancient,
Ancient Archway

[Ergocogito]

Oh....that's nice.

Small edit: "Lurking behind the laugher."

[Bold Promise]

fim.413chan.net/fim/src/132880920895-132620001310.png

[NinjaBrony43009]

Very nice job! Sweet and to the point: an excellent short work.

[Cypher DS]

My likes and suggestions for "About Midnight":

-I like the surprise reveal of Celestia's disheveled state. At first, we're made to dismiss the concerns of the royal ministers and guards as needless worry, but after realizing that the princess has been pacing her castle with "mane and tail ... in complete disarray, her feathers ... frayed, and her royal regalia ... resting in her bedroom", it becomes clear that she looks as nutty as the sleep-walking Lady Macbeth.

-I like the analysis of the frozen Discord's body language, and how he appears triumphant even in defeat.

-The first part of your story up to "Chaos is..." focuses heavily on details that nopony, not even an almighty alicorn, notices: the gradual decay of the castle. I wonder if the story would gain a boost of energy and urgency if you wrote Celestia as the only being able to discern the "painful magic" of time and weight and water. Recognizing the minute deterioration of her castle would give her a stronger motivation to re-visit the statue garden.

-"She had no particular destination in mind, but as she walked a pattern emerged, an underlying order. She knew where she was headed, though she didn't want to go." These two sentences directly contradict each other. On the one hoof, Celestia is wandering aimlessly, but on the other she declares a set destination. Is there another way you could describe her reluctance to visit Discord's statue?

[SheetGhost]

690137

Thanks a lot for taking the time to make some constructive criticism. It really is appreciated and helps me improve as a writer.

Both of your criticisms are pretty on mark. While Celestia's uncertainty is supposed to be part of her dread, the uncertainty requires that she at least suspect, not remain ignorant. The rest of the examples have her suspecting that time and decay are working away at things. The lack of her recognition is an omission that deserves to be called out. I think what I was intending was that since the archways and the castle clearly represent Celestia herself, the character would remain ignorant of her own representative decay, as she was unaware of her own disheveled state, but this is a point that should have been expanded upon or else discarded in favor or narrative urgency and consistent theme. Especially considering it's the first and most powerful example and is used to draw in the reader.

The sentences you pointed out are contradictory, and should be reduced to one cohesive sentence. I think the issue was I had several different things I was trying to say, and jumbled them all together in a Frankensteinian monstrosity. I think I can fix this one pretty easily though. Good eye on catching it though.

Thank you for the compliments as well.

[Bad Horse]

Very good story. You could make this very short if you wanted to, and work it into a larger story.

690137 I wonder if the story would gain a boost of energy and urgency if you wrote Celestia as the only being able to discern the "painful magic" of time and weight and water. Recognizing the minute deterioration of her castle would give her a stronger motivation to re-visit the statue garden.
This is a good idea. It could also spread that bit about the cracks out, splitting it into two parts, instead of clustering it all at the very beginning of the story, where it misleads us into thinking the cracks in the columns will play an important literal role. It's also a little tiresome after a paragraph when it's the only thing we've read so far.

>This was the closest Celestia would ever get to being alone in her gardens.
I think you meant, "Being in her gardens was the closest Celestia would ever get to being alone."

>trained to battle monsters that they could never conceive.
That has a dramatically different meaning than "trained to battle monsters that they could never conceive of."

Are you uploading from Google docs? You've got the "italics destroy linebreaks" bug in a couple of places.

[SheetGhost]

2244663
Thanks for taking the time to comment and provide some constructive criticism. As far as working it into a larger story, I currently have nothing where it could fit. I toyed around with turning it into a series of one shots based on the premise of a break in schedule: Luna cavorting in the noon sun, Rainbow Dash missing her midafternoon nap, Rarity skipping her weekly spa visit, but decided against it due to lack of my own interest. I'll keep the thought in mind though.

-Re: The cracks, it's something that definitely could use revision, the second paragraph in particular is where it feels like I'm belaboring the point. I think at that point I was mostly just stalling as I figured out how to transition from what I felt was a solid opening section to the events at hand. I doubt I will do much revision though. It's been a while since I've looked at this work, much less thought about it.

-Awkward phrasing is often a problem of mine. That one slipped through, and as noted, this was back when I had a single prereader. I'll fix it.

- I think the original sentence contained of, and Office spelling and grammar correct stripped it for ending with a preposition. Any way I can think of to move the of to a more traditional position just sounds pretentious or overwrought. I'll just stick the of back in there and consider the style rule bendable.

I use Office, and find this bug odd. Last I saw the formatting on this was correct, but that was a couple months ago. I'll fix it.

Thanks for taking the time to comment.