Where We Stand (XX)
i
Professor Fluttershy lived in a small apartment above a bakery.
It was quaint, small, and kept as tidy as the pegasus and her earthpony marefriend could possibly have kept it. Yet, it’s reduced space meant it had to eventually descend into the cluttered nature small apartments usually did--every cupboard in the kitchen was lined on the top with spices and mason jars filled with everything from legumes to pastas, and the three bookshelves in the living area had all been filled until they looked ready to collapse under their own weight.
Every space not occupied by something necessary for the two mare’s day to day life was instead shared with a plant of some sort--the entire apartment had a scent of freshly grown cooking spices, intermingled with the vapours of the newly baked goods a floor below them. Fluttershy was a professor by trade and a gardener by choice, and it was clearly reflected in her home’s mishmash of applications.
It was cozy, and Twilight had felt immensely grateful that Fluttershy had extended the invite to make it a welcomed space for her, too.
“...just sayin’, it’s been a week and that little funky growth hasn’t gone away. Thinkin’ it’s time to bust out the clippers, Flutters. Encourage new growth and all that.”
Fluttershy and her marefriend--who’s name Twilight couldn’t possibly believe was actually ‘Tree Hugger’ from birth--were both poring over a specimen of dreamroot that they’d taken from their windowbox and onto the coffee table as though it were some botanical vivisection. Across the room, the news was trickling from a wooden stereo-set, along with a folk record turned low and spinning rhythmically atop a polished turntable.
Fluttershy sighed. “Twi? Thoughts on that?”
Twilight had been more focused on the radio, which had been playing a trimmed highlight of Celestia’s latest interview on the New Canterlot Public Radio. In the two months since the Hollow Shades Riots, Celestia’s status had shifted quite dramatically from that of a batty old mad mare to an experienced, veteran rebel from a drastically different era.
Nopony had bothered interviewing her about her time in her imprisonment. That had been covered quite sufficiently already.
But Celestia’s past hadn’t. Her youth, fighting for earthpony rights at a time when unicorns heralded complete control over their farming outputs…Suddenly, the Princess’s past seemed much more relevant to Equestria’s public consciousness than it had ever been before.
When Twilight had been a filly, it had largely faded into legend. Princess Celestia had not been known to boast, and she’d mostly reserved her personal stories to ponies she’d already developed a close friendship with. There was documentation, of course, but not from Celestia’s own point of view. History textbooks had a way of making everything seem impersonal, which meant the tales of Celestia’s youth had been tucked away nicely beside the political history of Equestria’s governing body.
The further one looked back, the harder it became to distinguish Celestia’s history as a civil servant of Equestria. Suddenly, though, she’d done something brash and decidedly uncivil, and ponies had noticed.
“Equus to Twiiiii…” Tree Hugger trilled, garnering a stifled chuckle from Fluttershy. “Needin’ your opinions on your magical drug here, bookmare.”
“O-oh, uh…” Twilight blushed, turning her attention over to her two friends with a sheepish smile. “I… I don’t think it’d alter their potency, considering I’ve gotta crush up the leaves for them to work, not the stems. Also, they’re not a ‘magical drug!’”
Tree Hugger snickered. “Just pullin’ your chain, Twi. No need to be so uptight. Still, it’s pretty radical dealin’ with somethin’ like this. Can’t blame Flutters for bein’ cautious.”
Fluttershy waved a hoof. “Or paranoid. Wanna do the honours, Twilight? You’ve got the telekinesis skills, after all.”
She withdrew a pair of metal scissors from a box of knitting supplies stored between an old chesterfield and bean-bag, and offered them to Twilight with a small smile.
“Just the little leaves of the stem that have kinda started to die away there…” Tree Hugger pointed them out with a hoof, before leaning back against the couch to watch. “Gotta keep your propagated stems lookin’ cherry, y’know?”
Twilight responded with a nod, and carefully started on the task of trimming up her propagated dreamroot as she’d seen Fluttershy and Tree Hugger themselves do with some of the more common herbs and spices they’d had growing in every place bathed in sunlight within their Ponyville apartment. The two mares had made it look simple--Twilight, by contrast, went at it slowly and tediously, internally fighting an anxious battle with herself over whether or not she might be killing one of her dreamroot specimens accidentally.
Exhaling, she shifted her focus on the radio in the corner of the room, letting Celestia’s calm voice accompany her work instead.
“...wonderful to see, if I’m being completely honest.” Celestia was saying. “But not entirely unsurprising. Poorly communicated information was the central issue therein, after all.”
“And you feel that has been remedied?”
“Well, that is a bit of a presumptuous claim, as we’ve only had two months worth of improvement to consider. But, certainly, I feel as though an issue who’s importance had been largely unknown by the greater public prior to my return, is now at the common forefront of much of their consideration. Something I afford myself some level of optimism about.”
One of the NCPR’s hosts overtook Celestia’s voice as it faded out in the mix, the highlight of that particular exchange apparently delivered. “You’re hearing the voice of Princess Celestia, speaking to us from our studio yesterday about the recent spree of worker walk-outs across Equestria this week. More on that at the turn of the hour, but first…”
The host carried on, the rest of his words fading back into background noise. Good chance of showers tonight and tomorrow, high of 15 degrees. Cloudsdale Comets leading 3-1 against the Baltimare Thunderbolts. A brief word for a sponsor Twilight didn’t care about.
“How’s the old mare doin’, anyways?” Tree Hugger piped up, apparently also having tuned her attention to the radio. “Figure you’ve got a better eye on her vibes than the rest of us and all.”
It wasn’t by any measure incorrect, but Twilight couldn’t help but blush at the assertion all the same. Apparently, Twilight’s association with Celestia had begun to take on a newer development, too. She had always figured herself to be an anchor--a rope tied around one of Celestia’s hooves, forcing the alicorn to drag a heavy deadweight behind her while simultaneously trying to swim against a furious tide.
And yet, when Twilight had started publishing Shining Armor’s findings, and the chemical evaluation reports taken in the Whitetail Woods, something seemed to have changed. It wasn’t as though she’d seen anything close to respect, of course. But the voice that had always been in Twilight’s head--before Celestia had even come back to life--had stopped it’s persistent demand for justification. A demand for some tangible, meaningful reason why Celestia should give a damn about her, her opinions, her worth. Some reason why she deserved to speak her voice out into an empty room and waste everypony’s time with her opinions.
It hadn’t silenced, but it had… changed. More a demand for perfection, for her to speak her voice as well as she could, instead of whether or not she deserved to speak it at all. Because Equestria did deserve to hear it, if it was the truth she was speaking.
“Celestia has... been tired.” Twilight admitted. “But the good sort of tired, I guess. Busy-tired, not… y’know.”
“Depressed-tired,” Fluttershy said bluntly, and nodded. “That is wonderful to hear, Twilight. She seems much more upbeat. C-careful there, though. You don’t have to trim all the stems, just the ones with dead leaves. Too much, and the plant will struggle to photosynthesize and grow new leaves. It’s a downwards spiral from there.”
Twilight cursed bitterly. “S-sorry.”
“Don’t be. We caught it, so there’s no harm.” Fluttershy smiled. Her comforting voice and restrained grin a stark contrast to Twilight’s hastily grumbled cursed words and apology.
She’d been a little surprised when Fluttershy had continued to contact her after she had started to publish their findings. And with more than mere polite correspondances--she’d actually extended the offer for Twilight to come by and ‘hang’, as she put it.
Twilight had been terrified. Every emotion in her told her it was a trap, and even if it wasn’t, it would just be something that would blow up in her face anyways. She’d just make a fool of herself like she always did and that would be that, another pony to cross off the list of ponies she could ever hope to talk to again…
Celestia had encouraged otherwise. ‘It sounds to me like she wants to be your friend, Twilight,’ she had said. ‘Does she seriously seem like the sort of pony who would have ulterior motives?’
And, as she normally was, Celestia had been right. She’d met Fluttershy and Tree Hugger at the Ponyville Train Station, and they’d shown her around one of the wildlife preserves the two had been helping out at.
Fluttershy had taken Twilight aside, while Tree Hugger trotted ahead to pick up some vegetables from the market for a stir-fry dinner she promised would be ‘totally out of this world.’
“I know it’s hard, Twilight.” Fluttershy had said. “It is for me, too.”
Twilight had been taken aback, and her response had largely been restricted to a bewildered stare, which Fluttershy returned with a patient smile.
“But I had a lot of fun today, and I’d be really happy if we could hang out some more.”
And then, just like that, they had. Fluttershy was nearly as reserved as Twilight was, but her marefriend was a social butterfly… as though the two’s cutie marks had been swapped accidentally. By time Twilight had finally returned home to Celestia, she’d nearly collapsed onto the alicorn’s lounging form.
Exhaling, Twilight put the scissors down onto the coffee table, glancing over at Tree Hugger.
“Looks righteous, Twi,” she said.
“I really can’t thank you enough for helping me with these…” Twilight replied. “I… really have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Well, you’re learning quickly,” Fluttershy said, rising to her hooves. She lifted the potted dreamroot in a wing, carefully carrying it back over to the planter in her windowbox. “And we’re both eager to have something from the Hollow Shades in our home! S-so long as you’re sure about it’s poison joke qualities being inert.”
“I’m, like, ninety percent sure.” Twilight gave a sheepish little nod of her head. “But anytime you want me to take it back…”
“We’ll let you know.” Fluttershy glanced at Tree Hugger with a little smile.
As Fluttershy was settling back down on the couch next to Tree Hugger and Twilight was settling back into the loveseat, a clock in the kitchen rung out an abbreviated ‘Westmanester Quarters’ performed by bird-calls--undoubtedly an impulse purchase of Fluttershy’s. Twilight’s ear perked, and she glanced from Fluttershy to the wooden stereo set in the corner of the living room.
“May I?” she nodded her head in it’s direction.
“Totally,” Tree Hugger replied quickly. “Wanna hear what all Big Celly has to say.”
Twilight stifled a smirk, her horn lighting and turning the dial on the radio up slightly.
The soft radio host’s voice grew louder, and the three mares settled down to listen.
ii
“...that was the New Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra, performing ‘Flight of the Breezies’ at the Horseshoe Ampitheatre in Manehattan. I’m Voice Over, the time is six thirty P.M, on Tuesday, August 12th, 1012. Weather conditions outside are irrelevant, because I have Princess Celestia in the studio with me right now and to be honest, I can think of little else that matters to me right now.”
Celestia chuckled. “Sunny, so far as I can see it. Let’s avoid too much hyperbole today, dear.”
Voice Over, the headphones wearing stallion sitting across from Celestia and behind a wall of mixing equipment, chuckled too. “Of course, of course. Thank you so much for agreeing to come into the studio today. I know you’ve had a busy week and we’ve been consuming a big chunk of it, so it’s always much appreciated.”
Celestia smiled. It was hardly a mystery to her that the New Canterlot Public Radio had a higher listener count in the past month than ever before in their history, and she’d been unsurprised when they’d asked to book her for several half-hour interviews.
They were, of course, separate from other interviews that had been hosted on the Industry’s own broadcasting station--those ones had been held in a studio in a separate building closer to the Industry’s main corporate branch, and hadn’t ever been performed without a small gaggle of Flim Flam Industry’s own public representatives.
“You know I’m quite happy to chat,” Celestia said. “You ponies have been a joy to get to know.”
Voice Over smiled. “And you have been quite the popular mare as of late.”
“Something I certainly hope is not exclusively due to the mere sound of my voice on pony’s radio receivers.”
Voice Over snickered. “I am sure there are multiple variables, yes. I am sure the recent worker walkouts across the country have some manner to do with that.”
“Certainly no mere coincidence. Although, I was somewhat surprised to hear of those, admittedly.”
“Were you?”
Celestia nodded--a gesture perhaps reserved for the radio host, but it felt right regardless. “Indeed. I’d been expecting a bolstering in awareness, but even I could not have anticipated such action as a direct result.”
“May I ask what you were expecting in turn?” Voice Over tilted his head curiously, leaning back in his seat.
“A hasty statement from Flim Flam Industry assuring us they were looking into the issue was something I had predicted before I’d even gotten onto the train in Hayseed.” Celestia admitted. “And while that did indeed come to pass more or less how I envisioned, I didn’t expect the fallout from that statement being quite so… ah…”
“Volatile?”
“Perhaps, although that implies a certain level of fury and destruction.”
“Something you think was not associated with the Hollow Shades Protests?” Voice Over asked thoughtfully.
“I realize that may seem a little bold of me to say, considering the personal role I had in the destruction of several expensive pieces of industry hardware. But, to be frank, I think ‘fury’ and ‘destruction’ implies a certain level of senselessness. Purposeless. Something being done simply for the purpose of expressing rage, instead of accomplishing a greater goal. I think these protests are not reflective of such senselessness. Rather, it is reflective of ponies realizing they are contributing to a destructive system, and demanding it be remedied. That is not ‘volatile’, to me. It is a sign of progress.”
Voice Over nodded. Both of his ears were perked and alert, the stallion clearly interested in Celestia for reasons beyond his own employment. He was evidently loving this, and Celestia imagined the NCPR’s ratings were, too.
“You’ve been accused by some publications and high ranking officials within Flim Flam Industry of intentionally raising doubt and pessimism in the Equestrian people. Do you think that is a valid accusation?”
Celestia pursed her lips thoughtfully. The question was… a bit of a trick one. Not on the fault of Voice Over--it would be fairly easy for her to say something simple and safe, but in doing so Celestia feared she would be losing an opportunity for some much needed honesty.
Since her first hearing, when she’d willingly allowed herself to wear a lie-detecting horn inhibitor, Celestia had been nurturing a reputation of honesty and transparency. Why stop here?
“I… believe it is, yes. It has been my intention throughout the past year and especially during the past several months, to raise some awareness of the current state of Equestria’s ecosystems, employment situations, and international diplomatic relationships. In doing so, I have been forced to also call into question how those topics have been handled up until now. It is unsurprising that my doing so has garnered some unrest.”
“I see. How do you believe Flim Flam Industry should be confronting such unrest, then? What sort of actions do you believe would help provide these protestors with their goals?”
“An interesting question. I would say that a rather in depth analysis of the Industry’s wage distribution system would be a good place to start. If the workers in the factory believe there is some manner of wage discrepancy, perhaps it would be wise and pro-active on the Industry’s part to begin closing this gap in places.”
“And you believe that would be enough to accommodate the worker protests?”
“No. And I am glad you asked this question, because I think it is a misconception that many individuals critical of these protestors--and indeed, within the protestors themselves--may not be understanding.” Celestia leaned forward as she spoke, instinctively lighting her horn to move the mic back a little to prevent any interference. “Because as of right now, doing so exclusively would not change the fact that Flim Flam Industry’s current rate of production is at a level that is unsustainable to Equestria on a longer term. Not to mention dangerous to public health on an immediate level.”
“For reasons highlighted in your student’s soil sample publications, yes?”
“She is more my equal than my student, but yes, that is quite right. Based on studies that, I might add, have been mirrored by other academic bodies in Equestria to produce similar results.”
“And what do those results say, to you personally?”
“That not enough care and attention was put into developing these heavy production facilities. That they were built quickly, cheaply, and with only their immediate usefulness taken into consideration. And then, when retro-fitting them to be sustainable on the longer run proved expensive, Flim Flam Industry instead realized it would be cheaper to simply publish lies about their output in the hopes that nopony would notice.”
“And they would’ve gotten away with it, if it weren’t for you meddling old alicorns?” Voice Over grinned, and Celestia smiled--although truthfully she had no idea what he was referencing.
“I hope the situation is a tad more nuanced than that, of course. I truly believe it was simply the result of poor communication and education. Regardless… well, may I take us on a quick aside?”
Voice Over smiled at her. “Of course you may.”
“I believe a comparison can be drawn between a certain narrative I heard while talking with ponies who work as part of the Industry’s blue-collar labour force. When I was first stretching my hooves in Equestria following my return, I met with a mare who, for her sake, I will keep anonymous. She’d lost her family’s farm to Flim and Flam’s aggressive infiltration of their property, following their failure to meet supply demands. They purchased the rights to Ponyville’s cider and apple farming industry. Now, are you familiar with the current state of the apple farming industry in Ponyville, now?”
Voice Over shook his head. “Unfamiliar, I’m afraid.”
Celestia smiled. “Bankrupt. I looked into it because I was curious, and as it turns out, they lost a large chunk of their consumer base a year or so into their ownership. Overly aggressive farming, a poor understanding of proper agricultural strategy… they were, to be frank, two unicorns attempting to replace a craft that earth ponies had perfected. They were attempting to do so through machinery, instead of the careful, kind hoof that the apple farms of Ponyville were once run with.”
“Resulting in their bankruptcy, as you said.”
“The fields are largely used to grow wheat and corn, now. Easier to harvest than apples. The soil itself hasn’t been kept nearly as fertile as it once was. It will take a long time before the land once known as Sweet Apple Acres will ever be able to grow apples again.”
“A truly ironic tragedy.” Voice Over gave a sad nod of his head.
“Isn’t it? I mention this as an aside, because I feel this is… symbolic, in a way. It is an early indication of a flaw inherent to this Industry’s approaches. It is a… small parable of their failure, before their influence had outstretched beyond that of ambitious businessponies. It is a flaw that has become ingrained instead of corrected. A bad habit turned into tradition, and affecting the nation as a whole, now.”
“And, as you said before. You believe this to largely be a byproduct of poor communication?”
“If not, I at least believe it is a problem that we might correct through the careful reparation of this poor communication.”
“You’d like the chance to remedy that, wouldn’t you?”
Celestia chuckled. “I certainly hope you haven’t caught me salivating at the prospect of teaching again. Such would be quite uncouth.”
Voice Over chuckled, too. “An old hobby of yours?”
“In many ways, I consider it an alternative to my role as a leader. I do my best to do both, and asserting myself as a ‘teacher’ exclusively somewhat discredits just how much I myself have to learn.” Celestia shrugged. “It is… enjoyable, to me. Sharing what I’ve learned, and learning what my ponies have, as well. The idea that I might begin doing that again is one I…”
“...Salivate at the prospect of.” Voice Over finished for her, giving her a sly grin. “Hyperbolically speaking.”
“I thought we agreed on avoiding that,” Celestia said with a smirk, earning another laugh from the radio host. “But, yes. I look forwards to it. I adored reading letters from my ponies when I was a Princess of Equestria.”
Voice Over had been leaning back in his chair with one ear pressed down, but he leaned forward as Celestia finished and took a sip of her water. A glance at the wall clock told Celestia that they didn’t have a whole lot more time on the docket. Less than ten minutes.
If she were to make her bold, unpredictable move, she would have to do it shortly.
It had always been her intention to--unorthodox, new, surprising. She’d been painted by Flim Flam Industry as two distinct but equally loathsome things; impersonal, and archaic. What better way to discard their lies than prove herself to be something quite opposite?
It was true, after all. Twilight had assured her of it, over and over and over again. She wasn’t a relic, or a forgotten old mare. She was forward thinking, hopeful, and kind. Or, at least, she was trying her damndest to be.
A rut, they had accused her of driving Equestria into, and keeping it there. Perhaps her wariness to take any risks with their recovering nation twelve years ago lent validity to that claim.
So be it. She wasn’t above taking risks, and she’d been proving so publicly since her return.
“I would like to return to that time again.” Celestia spoke up, her voice calm and thoughtful. “This is why I aim to begin retaking control of my duties as central ruler of Equestria in several months time.”
She’d already told Voice Over prior to beginning the interview the topics she’d intended to cover, but the bluntness with which she’d said them seemed to surprise even him. He blinked several times, furrowing his brow and leaning forwards.
“I’ve been hinting at such since my return, but have been negligent to provide a timeline. But in the past two months, I have watched Flim Flam Industry reel to explain themselves--to me, to Equestria. I’ve watched them try and fail to justify their deeds, and I’ve grown to understand that a not insignificant part of Equestria indeed see what I see. This is why I aim to provide an experienced, helping hoof in guiding us, ah. Back on track, as they say. So that we all might enjoy this new age the Industry have brought us, instead of only a fortunate few.”
Five minutes left on their docket, now. She’d waited till the candle had nearly burned down before speaking the most significant part of her interview, but part of her knew it had been for the best.
Voice Over had been a little unsure how to salvage his emotions to get his show back on track, so Celestia decided to kindly step in for him. “Ahem. This, of course, is an event occurring in the future, and depending on the reaction of my subjects. There’s been much said about me, and my intentions. I don’t ask for that scrutiny to be disregarded. I just ask for it to be levelled against my rulership. To put it bluntly… I just wish to be given a chance. Whether that is through my election, or through a peaceful transition of power… I haven’t yet decided.”
Shaking her head, Celestia smiled at Voice Over. “So. That’s largely what I’ll be doing in the immediate future. How about you, dear? The Running of the Leaves is right around the corner, yes? Have you any plans?”
And, just like that, Celestia and Voice Over had spent the remainder of their inventory talking about their plans for the Running of the Leaves in two weeks time. He’d been still a little surprised and shaken, at first, but the lighthearted topic had done wonders in getting the stallion back on track towards what he undoubtedly did best--talking about his reflections on the pop cultural pulse of Equestria.
Celestia left her temporary audience with Equestria’s ears on a lighthearted and peaceful note--a strange sort of epilogue to what would surely be seen as an earthshattering revelation to some. A confirmation of suspicions held since she’d returned to Equestria, and it was a confirmation said as casually as one might give their order at a restaurant.
Not said like a mighty, imagined demigod trying to assert her power. Simply said like an experienced mare who wanted to be given a chance to help once again.
When Celestia walked out into the bright light of New Canterlot, she did so with a smile on her face and a long, cylindrical gift-wrapped package held under a wing.
A telescope. She’d seen it in the window of a hobby store, her own distorted reflection peering thoughtfully back at her from within the fish-eyed lens at the end of the ivory-coloured shaft. She’d kept it under the desk the entire time she’d been yapping away with Voice Over, after purchasing it on a poorly-restrained impulse while she’d killed time waiting for her scheduled appearance. New Canterlot’s shops were plentiful, afterall, and Celestia’s cynicism and disdain towards the city’s very existence had already long since crystallized into a sort of passive tolerance.
A few cameras flashed as Celestia spread her wings, taking off over her newest city in a few brisk, powerful strokes. She transferred the package into her telekinesis as she took flight, rising first above the radio building and then above the long steel mast sharply rising into the late afternoon sky, reaching invisible tendrils of energy to her curious little ponies.
It was a twenty minute flight up to Old Canterlot--she’d been taking her time, admittedly, not wanting to press herself too hard. Twilight had already expressed her concern that Celestia may have been pushing herself a bit too hard, as of late.
It wasn’t a worry unfounded. She’d pressed herself since the Hollow Shades. Raven had said it, too. She wasn’t the healthy mare that she had been when she’d stood on the throne.
Filly’s flights. Celestia’s physician had called them. Don’t push your luck.
She was aging, now. Time to start acting like it.
The air didn’t help. She’d hated to complain, but flying outside of Old Canterlot truly was a burden. She settled down on the roof of Twilight’s Library somewhat out of breath, swishing her tail as she trotted over to the stairwell.
In three months, Twilight’s library had changed significantly.
Significantly, but not dramatically. In many ways, it stayed the same it had always been--before Celestia had come into Twilight's life, and even before Twilight had moved in after dropping out of college.
A small greenhouse had been built on the roof for Twilight’s dreamroot specimens--and a few cooking herbs for Celestia’s own personal gardening projects.
The rooms that Twilight had sectioned off for her own living quarters still largely served their adapted purposes, but the main hall had undergone a good amount of renovation in an attempt to regain its former glory. The skylight had been replaced, and the halls thoroughly cleaned, dusted, and rid of books too damaged to survive.
Twilight had been careful, but only one mare, and at least a dozen books had been too eaten away by moths and the elements to survive.
Suddenly, though, Twi's library had become important again, as Celestia’s own political traction rumbled on. Raven Inkwell had an office downstairs where a private study room had been, and Celestia had her own personal office a stone’s throw away.
Twilight’s own office had been largely organized and made sense of. Celestia had helped her with that. It had been a project the two of them had undergone together, and Celestia had found it to be a rather enjoyable one. She’d worried that sharing her organizational strategies with Twilight would bore the younger unicorn, and so she’d been surprised when she’d gotten a polar opposite reaction.
Twilight Sparkle seemed to be as eager to learn as Celestia was to teach.
It had been a slow, and sometimes tedious process, but after a few months, Twilight’s Library had emerged from a cocoon of neglect and poverty into the proud old Canterlot Library the two of them both had fond memories of.
Twilight was reading in the reading hall when Celestia returned, though she perked up when she heard Celestia’s hooves clanking against the metal stairwell. “Heya, Celestia. Thought I heard you come in.”
Celestia gave Twilight a small nuzzle, the unicorn setting her book down on the polished oak table. She hadn’t looked up to notice the package in Celestia’s telekinesis yet, and so Celestia took the opportunity to carefully lower it further out of view beneath the table.
Twilight had been reading a worn copy of The Equestrian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, and Celestia stifled a small chuckle at the sight. “Not exactly light reading, Twilight.”
“Yeah, well. I’ve been thinking about what that mare said. The Spoiled one. Wouldn’t do much harm for me to be a bit more educated, right?”
“Perhaps not. How was Fluttershy’s?”
“It was… a lot of fun, actually.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”
Twilight blushed, cracking her book back open again. “How ‘bout you? How was the trip to the city?”
At that, Celestia slowly lifted the package again, setting it down before Twilight on the reading room table. “I picked you up something. I thought I was above impulse purchases, but, well. It seems even I am beginning to fall to the infernal cities creature comforts. The Arcane Traditionalist Mother herself. Is there no hope at all?”
Twilight snickered, and she put her book down excitedly once more. “You didn’t have to do that, Celestia.”
“I wanted to.” Celestia settled down next to Twilight, resting a wing on her back. “Besides, you don’t even know what it is, yet.”
Indeed, Celestia felt a strange sort of dread overtake her as Twilight took the telescope in her telekinesis, gracelessly beginning to tear away at the wrapping paper. Suddenly, the entire thing seemed stupid to her--why the blazes would Twilight ever see merit in a brazen impulse purchase? Was she truly so pathetic, that she had to try and cajole respect out of the poor unicorn with silly, nonsense gifts?
Twilight blinked as she looked at the telescope.
Celestia resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and start hunting for the damned receipt.
“If it’s not something you’re interested--”
The sentence died as Twilight wrapped her hooves around Celestia, nudging her head beneath her wing. “I love it, Celestia. I love it so much.”
Celestia shuffled her wing to hold Twilight closer, breathing a long sigh of relief into the unicorn’s coat so she wouldn’t hear it. “It’s a fraction of what you deserve, Twilight.”
“I… I’d say we should go use it right now. I just worry that there might not be much starlight for us to see, here.” Twilight’s head sunk, running a hoof down the length of the telescope.
“Then it seems like the two of us have gained a personal reason for this little fight for Equestria we’re carrying out, doesn’t it?” Celestia brought a hoof to Twilight’s chin, gently lifting her head up to meet her eyes.
A smile seeped back onto Twilight’s face, and she nodded her head slowly. “Y-yeah. I guess so.”
A wonderfully warm sense of satisfaction had begun to flood into Celestia’s chest as she looked into her smile.
Tell her, you damned fool. Tell the mare.
“Twilight…” she began, her voice cracking on the first word. It had been ages since she had done this, and she had never really been good at it anyways. “Ahem. Ah… you probably already know this, but… every once in a while, a mare or a stallion feels a… a certain emotion, when they are in the presence of somepony else. Similar to friendship, I suppose… and yet very different as well. More refined and elegant.”
Celestia paused, took a deep breath, and continued.
“This feeling… at the risk of sounding like an old mare’s beach novel, this feeling is one of a kind. It cannot be equaled, and there exists no substitute. No synthesized replacement. Are you with me so far?”
Twilight’s eyes had grown as wide as the moon, but she managed to nod once and only once.
“I don’t mean to sound foolish, but this feeling is what we call ‘being in love.’”
Celestia stopped again, taking a moment to gauge Twilight’s expression. It remained unchanged, which was somehow much worse to Celestia than any wild, exaggerated frown or smile. If Twilight would have burst out into raucous laughter, it probably would have been more comforting to Celestia. But as it was, she had no choice but to venture into the terrifyingly still waters unaccompanied.
“Twilight… I know that I am just an old, foolish, crippled mare, and you are a spry young unicorn. I know there are probably other mares and stallions who are better for you than me. But… when I am with you… I…”
Celestia trailed off into a series of stuttering syllables, took another deep breath, and regained her confidence. “When I am with you, I have that feeling. I know my years are numbered, but I would like to spend the rest of them with you. I believe I am in love with you, Twilight Sparkle.”
With considerable effort, Celestia kept her eyes locked with Twilight’s. The unicorn’s distant wide-eyed gaze gave way to several frantic blinks, as though she was only now receiving Celestia’s words, transmitted to her from a thousand miles away, all distorted and broken but with their meaning still identifiable through all the haze.
Then, she gulped, and her head nudged it’s way back into Celestia’s wing. Celestia felt one of Twilight’s hooves stumbling about, trying to find Celestia’s, which the alicorn happily assisted with. Twilight gave her hoof a little squeeze, accompanying the sound with a small sob. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you… I... I don’t even know how to kiss somepony properly…”
Celestia broke the nuzzle, but only so she could look into Twilight’s eyes more properly. Unsure, but still so eager, and so full of love. “I have endured far worse than an awkward first kiss, Twi.”
Twilight managed a strained chuckle. “I g-guess so…” She sighed, and brought her snout closer to Celestia’s wing again. “I don’t ever want you to go, Celestia. Because I feel the same. But… I want it to last. Promise me that you won’t go.”
Celestia opened her mouth with a response. She closed it again, and Twilight’s ear twitched instinctively as a few of Celestia’s tears hit. “I don’t know how much time I can promise you, Twilight. But I will fight forever.”
Twilight was silent again, for nearly a minute.
When she next spoke, her voice was quiet and firm. “Okay.”
iii
Raven had picked up the phone, but she’d only spoken into it for several seconds before calling over to Celestia in her office adjacent to Raven’s.
“Princess? Got a mare from the Industry’s finance department on the line.”
Celestia perked up from her writing as Raven called out. A glass window separated them--a choice by design until the two had a working intercom system. Celestia’s own office was a room separate from Twilight’s, since she’d only needed it for the professional part of her life.
She’d taken to sharing the bed with Twilight in her study ever since their talk. Twilight’s office--twice the size of hers and Raven’s--had doubled as their bedquarters, and Celestia found herself rather thrilled by the development.
Of course, she was terrified by it in equal measure on no rare occasion. She hadn’t seen the signs of it, but the inevitable glacial drift still ate away at the fringes of her optimism. The unshakeable fear that even if the love was reciprocated now, it would wane and dim in time and she would be left alone once again.
It was an illogical fear, of course. Part of Celestia knew that. More often than not, Celestia had found a mere glance at Twilight while she read or tended to her dreamroot or scanned the lights of New Canterlot with her telescope was enough to dismiss it as the nonsense worry it had been.
“I’ll take it here Raven, thanks.” Celestia gave her secretary a gentle nod. She levitated her telephone receiver to her ear with a smile. “Good morning, Celestia speaking.”
“Princess Celestia, my name is Fine Line. We… ahem, spoke a few days ago? On the radio?”
“The quiet mare, yes. How are you, dear? You seemed… reluctant to be there.”
“That’s because I was. Princess Celestia, I’m calling because I am… interested in rejoining your former Royal Court. Now that I’ve been made aware that it survives in some capacity.”
“That remains to be seen, my dear.” Celestia moved the receiver to her other ear, sipping her morning tea gingerly. “My success in reimplementing it is no guarantee, after all.”
“Princess, to be frank… I’m in a position where I have to throw my fate behind either you, or the rest of this Industry’s board. Nothing is a guarantee for me, but I know what choice would at least give me more ease of mind. I’ve been… sitting on this phone call for about a week and trying to talk myself out of it, but… the more I think about it, the more I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“And what ‘thing’ would that be?” Celestia asked. Not accusatory--simply curious. This was an intriguing development, after all.
“Helping you. Putting my support behind the mare who’s… offering to help us fix the mess we made.”
Celestia smiled. “I will keep your offer in mind. I take it you have not made your intentions clear to your, ahem. Coworkers?”
“Goodness no. But I aim to give my resignation soon.”
“Well, I would be happy to have you back if you are indeed willing to return to my Day Court.”
They shared their mutual farewells--Fine Line’s interspersed with a hoof-full of hasty, overjoyed thanks for Celestia’s understanding. Celestia hung up with a small smile on her face, taking a long sip of her tea and settling back in her chair.
“Well. How about that,” she said aloud.
Raven had seemed conflicted, but she’d kept her unease largely to herself. Celestia could hardly blame the mare--she’d been in the same position Fine Line had been, after all, and she could hardly blame Raven for seeing a more cynical angle to Fine’s decision to abandon a sinking ship.
After all, how much assurance would that truly give Celestia that she wouldn’t receive the same treatment if things became troublesome on her end, too?
Celestia was more optimistic about the prospect, though. She’d seen how Fine had been acting at the interview--and how Spoiled Rich had been eying her whenever she’d dared to speak up. She found it much easier and much more emotionally fulfilling to simply assume the simpler option; Fine Line saw a healthier, more familiar working environment and wished to return to it.
Besides, Celestia herself could use a mare familiar with the Industry’s inner-workings when she’d inevitably have to sort them out herself.
When Fine Line did resign, three days later, a few papers had leapt on the story like it were worth solid gold. The tendrils Flim Flam Industry had extended out to influence the radio stations and newspapers seemed to be cannibalizing themselves, greedily leaping onto whatever story would get Equestrians reading. ‘Chief Secretary of Finance Resigns, Citing Personal Differences and Workplace Harassment’ had been the headline Twilight had been pushing the New Canterlot Herald for, but they’d predictably settled for something a bit less dramatic.
Before the week had ended, Twilight’s Library had received another call from Flim Flam Industry’s New Canterlot building.
Celestia had been unsurprised to hear the voice of Spoiled Rich when Raven had transferred her over.
“Good morning, Miss Celestia. This is Spoiled Rich, Chief Executive Office of Flim Flam Industry. I earnestly hope this call is finding you well.”
Celestia levitated the receiver a little further away from her, raising an eyebrow. Just how long did it take you to rehearse that greeting? Her mind had been tempted to ask, but she settled on a more mature response instead.
Spoiled Rich, as it had turned out, wished to meet with her.
‘Away from reporters, and away from microphones’, she had said. Celestia had done her best not to laugh out loud at that. She’d suspected Spoiled Rich and Florina both would be… reluctant to meet back with her under the same circumstances as last time, given how apparently disastrous it had been.
Still, Spoiled Rich’s uncharacteristically calm and grounded request to meet for a drink and ‘chat’, had been enough to get a genuine look of surprise out of Celestia. Twilight had put down her book to examine and listen to Celestia’s surprised look, and Celestia herself moved the receiver to her other ear.
“Where, Miss Spoiled Rich?”
“Do you know of any places in Old Canterlot? If not, I can make a reservation at The Golden Horseshoe, here in New Canterlot. It’s a marvelous place, with an even more marvelous dessert menu. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Celestia chuckled. “That sounds lovely, dear. Consider me intrigued.”
“Tonight? Eight PM?”
“Sure. I will be there.”
“I truly cannot thank you enough, Miss Celestia. You will be making a lot of ponies here very happy.”
Celestia hung up without saying goodbye, raising an eyebrow as she glanced over to Twilight lounging on a loveseat and reading another law textbook. “That was unusual.”
“... who was that?”
“Miss Spoiled Rich.”
“The CEO? What in Tartarus did she want?”
“To ‘chat.’” Celestia smirked. “And yes, she did use that word.”
Twilight blinked. “...that is weird.”
“I assume this is an attempt to placate my… promises to continue pushing for a peaceful revolution. A negotiation, if you will.”
“Can just as well be a trap. She might be trying to goad you into, like. Making a scene in public, or something.”
Celestia laughed. “It’s possible. Eight PM. Would you like to accompany me?”
“W-well. I promised Nightmare Moon we’d have a moon-raising and dream-walking lesson tonight. And she hasn’t been showing up outside of the dreamrealm in awhile, so I wouldn’t be able to reschedule with her without, y’know. Blowing her off at the last minute.”
Celestia exhaled. Twilight still spoke of Nightmare Moon as though she were some frightening spectre haunting her worries. It didn’t seem even remotely healthy to Celestia, but she was also aware of her own bias over the matters. “I presume doing so would make her angry with you.”
“Well, I mean. Most likely?” Twilight shrugged helplessly. “It’d just be really rude. I don’t want to do that to her.”
Celestia managed a small smile. “Well, I predict even the Spirit of Nightmares herself will be infinitely more hospitable than Spoiled Rich, regardless.”
Twilight stifled a chuckle with a hoof. “Don’t let her get under your skin, eh?”
“I don’t intend to be there long. I’d rather spend my evening with you and Nightmare Moon over that mare, believe me.”
Eight o’clock came sooner than Celestia would have liked. She’d settled on a train-ride instead of a teleport--the tapestry of lights that was New Canterlot was a rather wonderful sight, one accompanied with a cheerful little jazz record humming out from a speaker within the passenger train compartment.
Besides, trains meant ponies to talk to. Celestia had chosen to settle down with a pegasus mare who had been eager to make conversation with ‘Princess Celestia herself’. Even if it had been mostly small-talk--the weather, the longer nights as summer turned to autumn, the young pegasi’s excitement at scoring tickets for a Wonderbolts Showing later on in the month…
They’d both gotten off at a station deep within New Canterlot’s downtown core--the bubbly pegasus dismissing Celestia with a little wave as she ventured off to some nightclub someplace, while Celestia fished out a city map from a saddlebag and began hunting down The Golden Horseshoe.
It was, as she had predicted it would be, a dramatically fancy establishment. It lived up to it’s name--a building painted gold, lively shimmering in the hues of reflected neon from advertisements higher above it. A long line of ponies milling about, waiting to get in, though nearly all stopped to stare as Celestia took a spot in line behind them.
She supposed she could’ve trotted straight up to the bouncer, but Celestia was content waiting the fifteen or so minutes. It was time she’d spent staring at the ponies all trotting about on the busy nightlife streets of New Canterlot--scurrying out of the way of rumbling streetcars, laughing and arguing and speaking loudly in order to be properly heard above the city ambience.
The interior of The Golden Horseshoe was less intentionally striking as the exterior, but still radiated the same desire for distinguished ornament. A walkway surrounded the dining hall in the vague shape of a horseshoe, half a dozen dimly lit chandeliers hanging across the dining floor. They were all turned low enough that the candles on the table had the role of lighting the room instead, and the entire hall stood below a dark ceiling of tiny light bulbs that had been arranged to imitate starlight.
Celestia supposed these New Canterlot ponies had to see something resembling it, from time to time.
“Miss Celestia!” Celestia heard her name called to her from the dining floor, and she turned to see Spoiled Rich seated at a small, two-pony table, greeting her with a simple nod of her head. “You came.”
Spoiled had dressed impressively for the occasion. She was wearing an expensive-looking maple coloured dress, adorned with sequins that reflected in the warm light of the restaurant. She’d matched the dress with jewelry in her mane and around her neck, and she held her snout high as if to show them all off. Her greying mane was combed and styled carefully, and she regarded Celestia from behind spectacles that surely must have cost at least a thousand bits.
Celestia was a laughable contrast. She’d settled on a plain grey cloak of Twilight’s, and had thrown a few freshly picked flowers into her braided mane. A look perhaps unbefitting a Princess-to-be, but she wasn't there yet. And besides, Twilight had said she’d looked pretty.
“I came,” Celestia replied. Her horn lit, as she both pulled her stool out to sit and levitated off her cloak, draping it gently across the chair. “And… to be frank, I don’t intend to be here long.”
“Something important? At this hour?”
“Oh heavens no. But there’s a positively fascinating radio drama on later tonight that I promised Twilight we would try and catch together.”
Spoiled’s glare narrowed, just for a moment. Then, she plastered on a smile. “I see. Well, I will try not to keep you long, then.”
“Quite.”
Celestia said nothing further--a waitress had been lingering nearby, and had descended upon their table when she had seen Celestia sit. “Good evening! Welcome to The Golden Horseshoe! My name is Shiny Spoon, I’ll be your waitress for the evening.”
The young mare cantered her way through what must surely have been a well-memorized speech to her with a wavering nervousness--undoubtedly thanks to the unexpected nature of the patrons before her.
Celestia gave her a small smile. “Good evening, dear.”
“Can I start you two off with any drinks?”
“Oh, just tea, thank you.”
Spoiled ordered an expensive chardonnay who’s name Celestia was unfamiliar with, and the waitress whisked off to go get their drinks. Spoiled cleared her throat after she left, leaning forwards a little to regard Celestia pensively.
“I want to make you an offer, Miss Celestia.”
“Is that so? Another cash settlement?”
Spoiled shook her head. “An employment offer.”
Celestia tilted her head thoughtfully. “A replacement for Miss Fine Line, I presume.”
Spoiled bristled, as though the name of her former subordinate offended her. “How do you know about her?”
“That isn’t your concern.”
Spoiled glared--for all but a moment, before forcing her smile back on. “Her duties would be ones you would inherit, yes. On top of several others. You would be given authority over a not-insignificant percentage of the Industry’s total spending assets, and a seat on our Board of Directors.”
“A job. You’re offering me a job.”
“A dramatic understatement. I’m offering you a contract-bound co-ownership of Flim Flam Industry’s stock value.” Spoiled lifted her purse from below the table, nudging her snout inside and withdrawing a manilla envelope in her maw. She set it down on the table, easing it closer to Celestia with a hoof.
“You attempted this before with me, Miss Spoiled Rich.” Celestia took the envelope in a hoof, not opening it. “Your intern did, anyways.”
“That was a simple job offer. Think of this as… a partnership."
"With you."
"With me, and the rest of the Industry's Board of Directors. You would… be one of us, in essence."
"Fascinating. And why now?" Celestia tilted her head thoughtfully.
Spoiled's response was delayed as the waitress came scurrying back, a platter of drinks balanced somewhat precariously on a hoof.
Spoiled dismissed her with a half-hearted thank you, sipping her wine and taking the interruption as an opportunity to consider her response.
"Fine Line had been tasked with ensuring you were done right by us. You would have to ask her."
Celestia laughed out loud at that."Miss Spoiled, were I to take this offer, would you continue doing this?"
"This?" Spoiled blinked.
"'I'm sorry about the incompetence of my intern.'" Celestia quoted, drizzling a bit of honey into her tea. "'Oh, I apologize for how Miss Fine Line treated you.' Do you do any work of your own? Or take any responsibility for your actions whatsoever? Or have you truly gotten this far in life without having to?"
To Celestia’s amazement, Spoiled Rich managed to restrain herself from any level of explosive retort. She could have sworn she’d been able to physically witness the earthpony swallow down her rage as she feigned passive professionalism.
“Miss Celestia, I asked you to come here so we might have a polite and civil discussion of how we might work together. Not fling insults and accusations.”
Celestia exhaled. Perhaps she was being a bit too callous and arrogant. “My point, Miss Rich, is that I’ve learned--through both testimony from Miss Fine Line, and some quick sleuthing on the part of Twilight Sparkle--that you are a difficult mare to work with.”
“Ponies have a tendency to be intimidated by those of higher status.”
“Higher status,” Celestia repeated, idly bobbing the tea-bag in and out of her mug. “Miss Spoiled Rich, would you consider yourself the highest authority of Flim Flam Industry?”
“Not entirely. Do keep in mind, we operate as a committee. But I have the largest stock percentage, which in turn means I more or less have the most significant say on the company’s management.”
“Then what about the Flim-Flam Brothers?”
Spoiled Rich let out a gentle laugh. “They took their early retirement cheques more than a decade ago. I haven’t heard from them in ages.”
“So they are a non-factor?” Celestia rose an eyebrow. “That is considerably anticlimactic. Are they even still alive?”
Spoiled shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “Most likely.”
“I would assume that their silence would be best explained by their being deceased. That seemed considerably more likely to me.” Celestia frowned. “They were not exactly shy when it came to denouncing the problems of my authority twelve years ago. Why stop now, when it matters most?"
“Given how much they exposed themselves to the factories during their early days of production, it is indeed possible. We did have to learn the hard way to start wearing respirators around certain compounds necessary for our fuel production.” Spoiled shook her head. “This topic is wholly irrelevant to what we were speaking about. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I just… I just wish for some sort of explanation. Don’t I at least deserve that?”
“For your… ahem, treatment?” Spoiled tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Yes. I fully believe the Brothers had a hoof in developing the… the SunTrotter device. That level of ingenuity is… simply put, their M.O.”
“It is very likely that they were involved with the machine during its developmental stages.”
“If that is the case, they deserve to be held responsible the same way you and your Industry should be.”
“Miss Celestia, believe me when I say I truly and sincerely wish to remedy that.” Spoiled gave the envelope on the table another tap of her hoof. “I am more than open to suggestions as to how we might do that.”
“Resign.”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
“Resign, Miss Rich. That is the only condition that will satisfy me.”
“Miss Celestia. I beg you to--”
“You watched, Spoiled Rich. I recall your face.” Celestia pushed the manilla envelope closer to Spoiled, a weary frown on her face. “When I was a thousand feet beneath the earth, and dying, and all I’d wanted was to see the damn sun, instead of just feeling it through the SunTrotter. You were amongst the ponies who looked me in the face and told me ‘no.’ I don’t have an obligation to forgive you for that.”
Spoiled’s feigned professionalism seemed to drop in a moment, like a curtain parting way to reveal a changed set during a play. “I’ve listened to you parade your mercy and compassion for three months now on the radio. You hypocrite.”
Celestia sighed. Not in frustration, or annoyance--simply an old and tired mare wanting to politely will silence so she may speak. “Miss Rich, may I speak bluntly with you, at the risk of offending?”
“I believe we’re long past such formalities by this point.”
Celestia smiled. “Your corporation is a ghost. A husk. It once stood for something, perhaps, but it no longer does. And when something dies, it does not continue crawling about. It festers, and rots, and after enough time it becomes indistinguishable from the dirt from whence it came.
“You, my dear, are like one of the creatures that feeds off a corpse that you don’t even know is rotting yet. But, like any natural parasite, you’ve somehow learned that it’s death means your own survival is endangered. So you pull at nerves and you try desperately to keep it moving. You attach yourself to failed vital organs and threaten to stop them if you don’t get your way. But all you’re really doing is crawling a little further from where you’re eventually destined to fall.
“When I stood in front of those machines in the fields of Hayseed… or when I flew into vast chasms of pure chaos, knowing I may never return again, I stood for these ponies. For the survival of the world I lived in. Wearily, tired, but proud that I’d been given the opportunity. What do you stand for, Spoiled Rich? Any of you? Greed? Wealth? Selfishness? It doesn’t matter; to me, they’re all just the same rot that I will never allow my ponies to fall to.”
“You’re wrong. You couldn’t be any more wrong about me.” Spoiled Rich growled out. “Nor Equestria. You’re a fool if you don’t truly understand why they turned away from you twelve years ago.”
“Enlighten me then, dear.”
“They were frightened,” Spoiled said, through grit teeth. “In less than two years, this nation was almost destroyed on multiple occasions--by a mad alicorn, by a unicorn tyrant, by a chaos king. And the pony who ‘saved’ them was the same mare who used her superiority over her little ponies as the sole justification for why her decisions were final.”
Celestia glared. “That’s a li--”
“I am not finished speaking.” Spoiled cut in. “You think there is some great narrative against you. But you haven’t even considered the idea that perhaps ponies might be valid in fearing you. Your power. The very idea that the Sun itself can be controlled by the whims of an alicorn who is just as susceptible to corruption as Nightmare Moon or Sombra or any of the other foes that have come and gone.”
“Foes that I endangered myself saving Equestria from.”
“And in your mind, we’re your foes, now. Ponies frightened of your power, and trying to govern themselves instead of have their fates decided by an alicorn who would use the Sun as a bargaining chip.” Spoiled forced out a laugh. “So go ahead and snuff us out like you would all the other foes, Celestia. You think you’ve got the whole nation in your hoof, but you have no idea how deeply their fear of you really is rooted. And if it does come down to a question of me versus you, I will do anything to make sure this nation is free of your influence.”
Spoiled grabbed the envelope, shoving it back into her purse and sneering at Celestia as she did.
Celestia let out a long exhale. She'd never have admit it to the mare before her, but it indeed was a troublesome prospect.
The Flim Flam Brothers had done it to her quite efficiently, before. Fear was a weapon, the same way resigned apathy was a sedative. Celestia had too much personal experience with Equestria's new state to know they were adept at dealing with both. “My dear, I do not wish to--”
“Shut it. You’ve denied my offer, so I have nothing more for you. Don’t expect to hear from me again.”
That was hardly a tragedy, Celestia thought. A glance at a pocketwatch in Celestia’s cloak told her it was nearly nine already, regardless, and Celestia would much rather be back home with Twilight.
This was all a waste of her time, as every attempt to reason with these ponies ended up being.
“This nation is above blind, unjust fear, Miss Spoiled Rich. They won't succumb to it in favour of you."
"Are you certain about that? Be honest, Celestia. After all you've seen, do you truly believe that?"
Celestia didn't answer, instead rising to her hooves and putting her cloak back on. "Good evening to you, Spoiled Rich."
“Uh huh.”
iv
Spoiled Rich stepped off the airship and into the cool light of the Frozen North.
She shuddered instantly, clicking her tongue twice for her guard accompaniment. They trotted closer to her as quickly as they could manage, one of the unicorns levitating over Spoiled’s heavy shawl, along with a respirator. He gently placed it down on her back, as she stepped off the gangplank.
Spoiled walked out with her head held high, ears alert and tail swishing as her hooves clacked on the steel gangplank. The stacks were far away, but she took the respirator in a hoof anyways and put it on. The sound of her breathing became louder and more mechanical as the two filters on either side of the mask began to eat away at the toxins rampant in the crisp northern air.
Already, the airship was preparing to dust-off, Spoiled casting a wary glance back at it as it’s rotors fired back to life. Ahead of her, the large steel door of the small facility was already being attended to by one of the station’s guards, who gave Spoiled a small bow as she trotted closer.
“Hurry, will you?” she glared, keeping her gaze on him and not the five mighty smoke stacks spewing white clouds upwards into the larger blizzard hanging above them. “It is irritably cold out here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The guard said as he swung it open. Three inches of reinforced steel, and the pegasus struggled a little as he fought the winds to pry it open. Spoiled trotted through at a quicker pace, promptly kicking off her snow-covered shawl on the other side for one of the station guards to put away for her.
“Right. Tea, immediately,” she announced to whoever was in the room. The door slammed shut dramatically behind them, the other guards falling into line behind her as she trotted inside. Spoiled Rich removed her respirator, also flinging it unceremoniously into one of the guards hooves.
The entrance to the station was one long metallic corridor, lined on both sides with a few parkas tucked away neatly on hooks below a grated drain. Long electric lights made up the entire upper ceiling, casting the corridor in a sharp white glow. Spoiled led the way into the main area of the station--a common-area for the half a dozen or so crew members of the station immediately greeting her. It was little else but minimalistic couches and shelves, built more for practicality than decor.
There were three more guards awaiting her, two of them flanking a pegasus mare with a greying yellow mane and an old bomber jacket on her aqua-blue coat. She saluted a wing to Spoiled, and then gave a little nod to the guards accompanying Spoiled.
“Good day, Miss Rich.”
“Charmed,” Spoiled drawled out, giving a little roll of her eyes. “Disguises, immediately. I want to see all of you grotesque things as you’re supposed to be.”
One of the guards that had been accompanying Spoiled fixed her with an indignant glare, before flaring his horn to life. The white-coated stallion’s fur seemed to shed away to moulded chitin, glaring green eyes glowing to life.
“Equestrian residency tags. Let me see them.” Spoiled clicked her tongue again, The changeling stallion trotted closer, his horribly jagged horn glowing green as he did, summoning a pair of dogtags from beneath his armour. Spoiled snatched them in a hoof, peering down at the serial number for all but a moment before flinging them back to the changeling.
“Any others, I want to see your changeling forms immediately in my presence.”
“We have two other changelings employed, Miss Spoiled Rich,” the guard captain said. “One of them has been in my squad for nearly six years.”
“I did not imply otherwise, Miss…”
“Lightning Dust, ma’am. And with whatever respect you think you’re owed, you did.”
Spoiled scoffed. “I simply wish to have all my ducks in a row, Miss Dust. Where is Captain Armor?”
“In his chambers. Do… you want to visit him right away?”
“No, I wished for a tea, right away, though that wish seems to have gone unheard.” She snorted. She settled down onto one of the couches, looking at the other ponies in the room. The only non-guard occupant was a turtleneck-wearing unicorn mare, who had been reading a dry-looking romance novel in the corner. She put it down to regard Spoiled with a curious frown as she and her guards shuffled over into the common room proper.
“Miss Rich. Always a pleasure to see you.”
Spoiled didn’t know the name of the mare, and she didn’t quite care, so she settled on a simple nod as her chosen greeting. “Quite.”
There was silence for another thirty seconds, before a cup of oolong was gently set down on the end table beside her. Spoiled lifted it in a hoof, taking a ginger sip. “Miss Dust?”
“Miss Spoiled?” Lightning Dust trotted closer. “If you complain about the feather-flippin' tea, now…”
Spoiled narrowed her eyes. “When are you scheduled to fire the Suntrotter?”
“Well, at 0600 hours tomorrow. Y’know. Sunrise.”
“No, fool, before sunrise.”
Captain Dust blinked.
“Celestia will be raising the sun at sunrise, yes? So, unless you want interference from her, schedule the Suntrotter’s firing before sunrise. You bloody amateurs.”
She sipped her tea again, Captain Dust looking admittedly a little taken-aback by Spoiled’s words. Good, she thought. Served the arrogant mare right.
“I’ll make sure Captain Armor knows.”
“I will tell him myself. First, take my bags to my quarters immediately and have my supper brought there. I wish to get my beauty sleep if we aim to be up so dreadfully early.”
The salute from Lightning Dust was reluctant and accompanied with a little eyeroll, and Spoiled felt her temper flare as the pegasus trotted off. Another pony she’d have to make a mental note of. Her list was getting dreadfully large by now.
She finished her tea in one final swig, rising to her hooves again and jerking her head for her own guards to follow. There wasn’t much more to the station besides the common area and bunking quarters for the small crew, and everything had been arranged for simplicity's sake. There’d been no point of developing the station further, she’d been told, until they had a successful test firing of the Suntrotter to report.
Until after tomorrow morning.
Spoiled smiled to herself at the prospect. It wasn’t hard to visualize Celestia’s reaction--she’d read the reports herself and seen the photographs taken of the Suntrotter 2000 facility.
Their success would horrify her. That, Spoiled thought, would be a wonderful thing. Equestria had been listening to that old mare blabber on about herself for far too long, and the confidence that had been trickling into the ex-princess’s voice was positively irritating.
Everytime she spoke of her imprisonment--indeed, even the SunTrotter itself, the Ex-Princess’s mask of regality vanished. She became what Spoiled knew she was; a sad, old mare who needed retirement far more than the throne.
And soon enough, Spoiled Rich would be able to say to all of Equestria that Miss Celestia’s sun raising purposes were no longer required.
And then, who would give a damn what happened to her?
Thanks a lot to my friend Odd Shot for prereading this one. Go give him your love.
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Well, this oughta be a helluva show.
But I can't dismiss that radio show! A refreshing bit of 'casual' conversation on-air; it's a contrast to the previous talk, but it stays juicy. One particular thing of note that I enjoyed hearing during that was Celestia's view on how the "new age" technology would be used under her guidance. On top of the rest of her conversation with Voice Over, I'd say that her words really irritated a certain pony.
I don't think Spoiled Rich actually knows how close to home her words to Celestia might've hit. Because in the beginning of the chapter, we learn how the princess championed for the Earth Ponies to be free from Unicorn rule; one justified by the latters' stewardship of day and night.
Today, right now, there could be any number of ponies wishing to be free from her rule—one which is, fundamentally, justified by her stewardship of day and night. What makes the situation different from those ancient times? That's the question that she's faced with. That she needs a convincing answer for. Ideally, an answer that will satisfy herself as well.
She's not wrong to say this. Its something that lot of MLP fans bring up actually. Luna turned to the dark side, who's to say Celestia won't as well? And that fear is entirely valid.
The problem? The one who's saying it.
Using nothing but this stories characterization of Spoiled it's obvious that she is no better then any of the villans she brought up in the first place. The only difference is that Spoiled's destruction of Equestria is a slow one, taking place by its own hand (or hoof I guess whatever).
So what should be done? Look back to when Equestria was at it's best.
Two alicorns, working as one to serve the people they ruled over. One half of the diarchy is dead, but the other remains.
And they've got a potential one who's almost ready to take the other half.
As for the Suntrotter? The only problem with it (at least as far as I remember, which might be flawed) is it's current ownership. There's no reason it can't exist for the benefit of everyone, instead of as a tool to keep the corrupt in power.
Or thats how I see it at least.
So, we have a relationship, a final offer, the industry gearing up for some kind of false flag operation (I assume), and a political prisoner being held and enslaved under an evil factory.
This is gonna be guud.
Is it bad that I kinda want to end already? Like I already want to reach the part where those responsible already punished?
yeah bet film and flam were retired the same way celestia retired, destroyed by the very apparatus of power they built
hate to say it but spoil has a point, if celestia wins she still dragging the ponies backwards, and she is not the mare she once was, old and crippled, her equestria would indeed fall in time if new threats arise, funny enough what equestria needs is to tear down the current equestria and build something better something new, there enough ponies now who dont want her rule as there is who do, the illusion of alicorn perfection is long over
Oh boy, I have a feeling that new suntrotter facility is not going to survive the attempted firing. It would not surprise me if Shining 'accidentally' breaks it.
Ah, yes Attempting to yank around the source of life and heat to your world on the first go of an experimental device.
Surely that can only go right.
I'm afraid to know in what way shining armor is related to the suntrotter proyect
please dont be that they use him like they did to celestia
This chapter:
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This is my favourite comment
10516487
It reminds me of certain politicians on the political spectrum, and in the interests of peace I will not say who, save that Celestia's positions certainly align her with one side moreso than the other.
Specifically, it reminds me of how those politicians commit various unpleasantries (to put it lightly), or at a minimum are easily -capable- of that, and then promptly turn around and gaslight others by accusing them of being willing to do the things the corrupt politicians already have.
Still, ponies are not humans, and I have a good deal more faith in them seeing through those lies than I do my fellow humans given the last...era.
10516675
No leader is perfect, and Celestia is aware of this too. A good leader isn't about perfection, but about recognizing mistakes and failures and growing from them so when faced with a similar situation you make a better, more informed choice.
Also, reality is the unchecked pace of tech growth can very easily consume the planet, and balancing that act is...hard. Celestia may have veered too far in one direction, but the 'Go slow' direction also kept the planet hale and healthy
10516675
Better Celestia than corporate parasites. She's advocating balance, as she should, while the other side has yet to realize, or simply doesn't care about, the consequences of unimpeded progress. It isn’t luddism to be wary of Walmart when you see main street, your community and livelihood, go down the fucking toilet.
The plot thickens. I think that's the first time we've actually heard any official line on what happened to Flim and Flam, and direct confirmation that the brothers successfully waged a fear campaign to have Celestia removed from power; in short it was peaceful as far as I can tell.
I honestly won't be surprised if Flim and Flam met their end in some sorta Suntrotter experiment, but we'll still have awhile to go. That being said, I'm curious how much more until we reach the end. Unless a new plot thread opens up, we only have a few dangling left ...
I can see how using the suntrotter can easily backfire for spoiled, where itll be proof that the population loves celestia for her compassion, not her sun power.
So I've finally gotten around to catching up. Fuck finals, otherwise I would have edited this.
Considering Celestia's (and Luna's) achievements and very presence defines Equestrian history, I'm shocked that they've managed to edit her so much from it to the point where she doesn't appear as its keystone.
TreeShy romance fluff with these two when.
Is this meant to be a plant pun or does she mean cheery?
Tree better say 'vibe' at least two more times in this chapter or I will break your kneecaps.
Is this Celestia's rapper name?
She's just straight-up reading the book of laws itself? I'm not sure if this is mentioned in a previous chapter, but was this an archaic lawbook or a recent one for the FFI regime-thingy?
It's very fitting and interesting seeing how little words like these have very different connotations in Equestria. These minor details really strengthen the setting.
Yes, because that means anything to Celestia. Sure, Jan.
Wow, she's not an anti-masker? That's a big surprise.
RIP Ice Star.
Story is amazing and I’ve been gripped with every chapter. Well done I can’t wait for more. You captured spoiled riches personality perfectly
thank you for the lightning dust content my man 😔🙏
10760236
She really needs more love.
It'll be interesting to see, in a few moments, what happens next... A solar eclipse would certainly be alarming. Also, Celestia got a pretty lousy cutie mark if all it means is that she can move the "sun" around in the sky...
aaaaaaaaa i took a long break fimfic while this was still being written, so ive got some catching up to do, and... man, im loving it ^_^ this celestia just seems so... fitting? she shown as experienced and clever, yet still flawed, and in a way that doesn't feel unnatural and forced, and, well... i think it's one of my favourite parts of this story so far x3
the reveal about who fluttershy's gf was kept me guessing til the end, jeez, well done xD