X. A Game of Chess
Celestia was not panicking.
She was nervous, yes, but she was not panicking. If anything, she was handling the morning with amazing calm. And yes, it was a bit irregular to dismiss her seneschal, announce that court would be postponed for a brief respite, and leave her worried staff with cases to be handled on her behalf or shifted to the jurisdiction of the high court. Luna had covered for her, but sleep claimed even its own patron, and Cadance’s authority was limited.
It was also irregular to singlehoofedly grant a foreign ruler wide lattitude and then go into hiding in one’s own bedroom, but rule long enough and ponies tend to just go along with the flow of history.
But she was allowed some irregularities. Age. Time. A list of achievements longer than the great roles of genealogy the dragons kept furrowed away beneath the earth.
They did not buy her peace.
She sipped at her tea, waiting for lunch to be brought up. Twilight’s train had already arrived. She’d recieved a notice from a guard she’d positioned at the train station in New Canterlot ten minutes before and then waited long enough to brew a cup of tea before informing the kitchens that they should prepare lunch for two, brought to her quarters.
Cadance had offered to be there, but made herself clear: Celestia could not continue this way. Twilight was a wonderfully smart mare, and she would detect something wrong in her former teacher’s mannerisms in a heartbeat.
Also it was as close to a date as Celestia’s heart could take, and Cadance had been sure to say so. Her aunt’s mortified fury had been worth it, one hoped.
Celestia sighed. Her own worry was ridiculous. Twilight was a grown mare. She was mature, thoughtful, and intelligent. If anypony could come to terms with her own Inner Court and the prospect of such a long life, it would be Twilight. And if there was any mare who would be worth spending such a long time with, it would be her as well.
She could, of course, feel Twilight’s passive magic. She was close enough enough now, with the added strength of ascension making the task even easier. Somewhere below her hooves, heading up.
She thought about timing it so that she had a cup for Twilight at the most perfect moment, but didn’t.
In her head, her aspects warred. Dawn fretted, frayed and constructing arguments and plans. Noonday was wordless. Dusk pleaded with Celestia to talk to Twilight and not try to hide.
Twilight was down the hall now.
She swallowed. Perhaps she could put this behind her. Was now really the best time? Was it really proper to bring this up at such a tumlutuous--
Twilight knocked on her door. “Prin--” she burst into light giggles. “Sorry! I’m here, Celestia. Can I come in?”
Oh. Of course, she’d sent the guards down the hall. She swallowed again. “Yes, do come in. You’re right on time.”
She walked in. Celestia’s heart was in her throat, and it was ridiculous. Why should she feel this way? She had seen Twilight grow up. She had been her teacher, her mentor, her sovereign, her friend. Why should she now fear those hoofsteps or find a sweet anxiety in that smile? But she did.
*
Twilight bathed in the glow of the sun--or well, of Celestia, but same thing. Right? She thought so, and the idea made her want to laugh.
Celestia had tea on, of course she did. Tea had been a great solace to her over the years, and Twilight herself had found some solace in that fact. There was something steadying about it. Something that was eternal--there was always going to be Celestia and tea--but also not eternal, for it was consumed and then gone. The universal remained even as the contingent vanished.
Of course she approached her mentor as Celestia rose and greeted her now with a hug and a quick nuzzle to back up her words. Her heart burst with happiness. She felt younger, all of a sudden.
Celestia looked down at her, as if surprised. Twilight flushed. “Sorry, I’m just excited! I’ve been cooped up in my castle for far too long.”
Celestia smiled at her. “Very understandable. I confess that I too have been busy as of late. Lunch should arrive shortly. Would you care to sit with me until then?”
Twilight kept smiling. “Always.”
*
“So they’ve been exchanging letters,” Twilight said with a wide grin. “I didn’t catch on at first, but I really do thing he and Glimmer are, you know. ‘Talking’.”
“Talking? Well, yes, I suppose letters would--”
Twilight laughed. “Sorry, ‘talking’ as in easing into a relationship. It’s probably way too soon to know for sure. It’s only been a few months! But she’s almost as excited about those letters as I am for yours.”
Twilight continued, but Celestia lost track. She blinked, shocked. Had Twilight just... ? No, certainly not. Twilight was many things, but subtlety was not her game. If she had meant anything by that admission, had it been an admission at all, her attempts to cover it would have given her away.
“...anyhow,” Twilight said, finishing, “I’m excited to see Glimmer really reaching out to ponies again without trying to control them. She’s a little nervous about interacting with new ponies one on one, because who knows what they’ll do, right? But she’s getting there.” Twilight sighed happily. Lunch had been wonderful, but she always felt so lazy right after. Celestia remembered that clearly--ever since she’d been a filly, Twilight had struggled to stay awake right after lunch.
Twilight yawned, and Celestia suppressed her mirth.
“Some things never change,” she teased.
Twilight raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“When you were younger you used to nap after lunch. Every day, for years.”
“Not every day.”
“Every single day.” Celestia tapped her temple. “My memory is impeccable.”
Twilight chuckled. “Is it? You know, I have this memory of when I was a filly…”
“Is this about--”
“And there I was, bright and happy and ready to learn--”
“--oh, Twilight, you can’t hold this over my head forever--”
“--and I remembered you’d told me to wait for you in the solarium… so I waited there for like two hours…”
Celestia groaned. “I didn’t mean to,” she said, her voice petulant. “I ended up being waylaid by a party of assembly ponies and it was rather serious. I tried to get my guard to collect you…”
Twilight’s ears twitched. “You did?”
Celestia, flushed, nodded. “I asked one of my retinue to collect you and bring you to my study. I even told her to make sure you were well furnished with books and company! She was… new. Very new. It may have been her first day. She’d been briefed on you, of course, but she misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood?” Twilight frowned, her brow furrowing. “What do you… Oh. Oh, no, did she--?”
“Search high and low through the school? Yes. She was a little frayed and panicked by the time I caught up to her. Poor girl, she was terribly sorry. I didn’t have the heart to chastise her, really, and I made promise not to give her punishment detail.” Celestia hummed. “Actually, Aegis admitted that it was a lapse in his briefing of new guards. Do you remember Amethyst?”
Twilight’s face lit up. “My first minder!”
“Your… pardon?”
Twilight chuckled. “Minder. That’s what I called the guards that were with me. I mean, yeah, they kept their distance and they never were a bother, but I was always aware of them.”
“Ah,” said Celestia, who suddenly felt a little self-conscious about how easily she forgot the presence of guards nowadays. “Well, she was the one who couldn’t find you.”
Twilight blinked, and then suppressed another chuckle. “Oh, Amethyst… she was the first and the best. I think it was because she had a little sister only a few years older than I was that she was so fun. Whatever happened to her?”
Celestia sighed softly. “Her tour was up. Tea?” Twilight nodded, and Celestia sat still as her magic worked around them. “She did ask me to stay, you know. She wanted to stay with you. I was tempted… but I knew it would absolutely wreck her career. We had a long conversation, perhaps the first long conversation I have had with one of my guards in… oh, a long time.”
“Really? I feel kind of bad that I lost track of her.” Twilight pursed her lips. “I should write her or something, you think? Or has too much time passed. I didn’t know she was so attached to me. I guess I was a kid, after all.”
“Oh, she adored you,” Celestia all but sang. “Trust me. She made me promise to give her updates. She was the third recipient.”
“The… what?”
“Oh, of your reports! Luna is the second.”
“You sent her my reports?” Twilight blinked at her, bewildered. She then blinked at the tea that quite litterally magically found its way to the table before her. “Wait, how many ponies read those? I mean, I don’t mind that much, but now I’m curious.”
Celestia hummed, tapping her chin with a hoof thankfully free of her regalia. “Well… myself. Luna. Colonel Amethyst--oh, she’s a colonel now, by the way--and your mother.” She paused, and hummed. “Well, your father too, but usually I send it to her. Your father is a little disorganized, Twilight. Cadance… oh! And Discord has read at least a few.”
Twilight paled slightly. “Oh. Well… I probably would have, um… tried to be a bit more…”
“Articulate?”
“Something like that.”
“Luna is a big fan,” Celestia assured her, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So is Discord, but don’t tease him about it. It’s a sore spot.”
“It would explain that snide comment about my hoofwriting. Er, hornwriting. Whatever.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that, tea and and the lightest breeze. Celestia was happily surprised at just how comfortable she was, actually. Considering how her morning had been spent. And the week before it. And also the state of her Inner Court.
The Court was, of course, never silent. While she was sober, at least, they were never silent. They quarrelled, as much with each other as with Celestia. That was to say, they attempted to quarrel with her, but Celestia did not join their fight. Noon could sarcastically bite heels. Dawn could nervously calculate outcomes. Dusk could whine and pout.
But Celestia was enjoying the company of her all-time favorite student, and the pony she found she most wanted to be with in that very moment.
*
Twilight was relaxed, and that was a strange thing.
Okay, she admitted it. She was high strung! But it wasn’t like she never relaxed. She knew how to take a “chill pill” as Rainbow so aptly put it. Twilight had enjoyed many long, relaxing nights curled in the most delectable of beanbag chairs. She was, in fact, a connoisseur of beanbag chairs. She had run through half a dozen while living in Ponyville. They were scientifically the greatest possible form of chair.
She would know. She’d tested it.
But the point was that relaxation wasn’t something she associated with visiting the palace since she’d left, or with serious thaumaturgic study. Those things she associated with focus. Frenetic energy and focus.
But all of her eager jumpiness was gone. She’d just had lunch and tea, and really there was nothing in Celestia’s manner to suggest anything other than that would ever happen.
For a split second, she had been disappointed. Hadn’t she come here to work, to study? And yet, as soon as that feeling had come it had passed. Because hadn’t she also just been lamenting the slowness of the written word? Wasn’t this like a dozen letters from Celestia?
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen Cadance or Luna. Well, maybe not Luna. She’s probably asleep,” Twilight said, smiling aimlessly. “Is she here yet?”
Celestia grumbled over the board. “She had… affairs to arrange this morning.” More grumbling. “I shouldn’t have taught you to play Go.”
“I would have learned regardless.”
“Yes, but with my tutelage, you have become a monster.” She looked up. Her eyes narrowed. “You play correspondance with Ironclad, don’t you?”
“The general?” Twilight managed to look shocked. “He must be far too busy to play games.”
“I recognize his tactics in you. He has corrupted you. Chess, I assume.”
“Yes, since I was a filly,” Twilight replied with a little smile that could only be called smug. “We wrap up a single game a month, now. I sent him a dragonfire talisman I made myself for his birthday after I moved to Ponyville.”
Celestia beamed at her for a moment, before looking grumpily at the board and placing a piece. “That was thoughtful of you, Twilight.”
“I also play with Rarity and Pinkie, of all ponies. Pinkie’s a grandmaster, did you know? I sure didn’t. She’s a nightmare to play.” Twilight made her move.
They’d played chess when she had been small. Well, checkers at first. Celestia had insisted for perhaps centuries that games of strategy were a healthy part of a young mage’s training. Twilight happened to agree. A much younger Twilight had mostly just enjoyed playing checkers.
“You know, I find that I am less surprised than you sound by that fact. Pinkie is a rather intelligent mare.” Celestia considered for a moment, and the silence lingered until she had placed another white stone. “Her mind simply moves in ways you don’t expect.”
Twilight could count on her hooves how many times she had beat Celestia at chess. So four times, basically. Spike was better with that metaphor. He could count to like, eight?
The fact that she suddenly couldn’t remember how many claws Spike had floored her long enough for Celestia to poke her. Specifically, Celestia poking her muzzle. Twilight blinked and looked at it, going crosseyed for a moment.
“You spaced out,” Celestia said flatly.
They stayed like that for another moment, and then almost simultaneously, they laughed. They kept laughing, until Twilight felt she couldn’t laugh anymore.
*
Cadance sighed as she read through another report.
It had probably been too much to hope for that this vacation would be, well, a vacation. Here she was, sorting through what Celestia needed to look at and what could be given to her anxious staff.
And they were anxious. Celestia had taken breaks before, of course. The longest had been a few months, decades ago. And at these times, she’d left the day to day mundanities of government to fine ponies, specially picked. She usually also left them with suitable warning of her leave.
So it was understandable that they had been anxious. Celestia had quietly complained that ponies seemed to fret like headless chickens whenever she so much as blinked a time too many, but the Princess of Love and Empress of the Free North saw things a bit differently.
She could feel these ponies’ love for their ruler. She wasn’t just the distant princess to them, whatever Celestia might think. Their fretting… yes, she conceded she could see why Celestia was frustrated with it, felt like it was a bit much for a mare who could take care of herself, thank you.
She spared them all a glance. The seneschal had taken over quite admirably, organizing the various pages and sending them scurrying to and fro from Celestia’s office to various assemblyponies.
That was a kind of love, she thought. Other ponies might use words like duty, and she supposed they weren’t wrong to use that word. They’d been concerned at first, but then determined. If Celestia felt like she needed to step away, they would make sure she had something to come back to. They didn’t feel abandoned. If anything, her absence seemed only to make them more determined.
Underneath her mild annoyance and her less-than-mild wariness, Cadance couldn’t help but be happy. Whether or not she knew it, Celestia was in good hooves with ponies who saw her, the Mere Celestia, underneath the regalia, and still loved her all the same.
Her thoughts, when she could spare them, turned ever to Twilight and to her aunt. She was worried, but not overly worried.
Love, like hope, springs eternal. Celestia had said that one day, almost out of the blue. She’d been younger. One thing Cadance shared with her former favorite filly was the Solarium, the glorified reading room where she’d spent some of her happiest and quietest moments.
She’d been working through the Symposium of System Builder, and finding it vile. She’d stopped, laid flat on her back, and groaned. Celestia had peeked over the edge of whatever voluminous mountain of boredom she’d been reading at the time with a single raised eyebrow. It was the Raised Eyebrow of Impending Explanation, and it demanded an answer.
She smiled, and remembered--
“He’s so dumb,” a younger Cadance groused at the ceiling, which of course could not answer her.
“System Builder? And what great insight led you to that?” asked Celestia, with a grin. She set her book down. Bad sign. Cadance would have to explain herself now.
“Love,” she said. “I mean, yeah, maybe it’s a bit too early to cash in my chips on that one but… love is definitely not a disease.”
Celestia only grinned wider. “Oh? And the grip of Eros does not seem a bit like a sickness to you?”
Cadance huffed. No, it still didn’t.
Oh, she understood the angle the old stallion had. Elevated heart rate, knots of worry, lack of focus. She got it. She did! But it had always felt like the whole line of argument had been nothing more than lonely old bachelors who had never felt love for anything but themselves to her.
Love was more than just getting a little hot and sweaty around a pretty pony. It was so much more. Love wasn’t just a point in time, like a spike on a seismograph, it was… it was something that lasted. It continued.
Maybe she was biased, but she didn’t share some of Celestia’s concerns. Yes, it would be hard if she were to court Twilight. It would be hard with anypony, as equals. Love was hard. Sky was blue, et cetra, et cetra, world without end.
In her moderately-expert opinion, Celestia’s fear was warranted but exaggerated, and she hoped fiercely that she would see that. Love, circumscribed by death? She didn’t believe that for a second. Love never failed, even when ponies did--if Celestia had forgotten it, Cadance sure as Tartarus hadn’t.
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I continue to follow this story with great interest. If it is one of many updates in my feed, it is nearly always the first one I read.
I love the world building in the story, and the suspense. I hope that things will turn out well for all concerned, because I like all of these ponies (most especially Twilight!)
But I expect there to be at least one or more dramatic turns that I cannot yet predict.
I do love the little bit about Pinkie, grand master level in chess and an absolute nightmare of an opponent. I am curious how Twilight's inner court will be, somehow I imagine 5 Twilights with the personalities of the other Elements, and maybe a little purple and green colt, and it being much more fully formed than Celestia expects it to be
They are playing Go, I assume. Just like I am assuming that Twilight is crushing Celestia in that game.
Will we see the Court of Magic next chapter?
Commence read.
All that talk, about a game not being played.
Makes me want to play some.
7164287 for once, Twilight has the upper hand
"...great roles of genealogy..." That looks odd.
I'm really looking forward to Twilight's Schism. The way you ply the metaphysical is delicious.
Also, much love for Go, though I don't think chess tactics figure in anywhere.
7166027 in the strictest sense, they don't.
Celestia's not equating two sets of skills but rather commenting on the sharpness of mind transferring from one one to the other, much like the axioms of Guderian translating well into a courtroom, even tho he was writing about Tanks.
I really like the chapter hope to read more soon
Are they playing Othello?
latitude
sentence structure suggests you meant 'rolls'
think
That go scene was sweet. Nice to see Celestia and Twilight just spend time together.
yeah author's note weird flex but just go off okay
Hahahahahahaha really good
Amazing
10/10
Throw Celestia in for a loop
Pffft when you put it like that
10095569
Plato has Socrates and pals dicuss romantic/sexual love and conclude its a kind of disease, lol.