Time Enough For Love

by horizon

6. The Return

On their way west from Lambyang, they stopped on a small ledge high in the Llamalayas, where stark, snowy slopes overlooked an impossibly lush and verdant jungle valley. Birdsong carried through the frigid mountain air, and flocks of large red birds wheeled and dove through the trees. A few peeled off toward them, the air shimmering with heat around their wings; Celestia inclined her head and made a show of tucking her wings and sitting down, and the birds let out piercing aquiline cries and wheeled back away.

"This is as close as we get, Frumpy," she said. "I know you'd rather be down there where they keep it warm, but they get cranky about their territory." Celestia shrugged. "Still, it's on the way, and it's worth seeing."

"It is," Clover said. "It's indeed gorgeous." He smiled and rested his head to her shoulder. "Although I find it hard to believe you fight off packs of marauding dragons, yet keep your distance from a mere flock of birds."

She barked out a laugh. "Trust me, I'm not making that mistake again. Phoenixes hold grudges forever, and one even managed to track me from here to Canter Peak. I lost three whole casks of dragonfire ale to him before we finally called a truce."

Clover smirked. "I'll keep that in mind should I ever require a method of vengeance which even the mighty Imperatrix fears."

Celestia grabbed him in her hornglow, scooting him underneath her and wrapping a leg over his chest in a way that was becoming increasingly endearing. "And if you could learn how to burst into flames and then survive the explosion, I might even get worried."

"Touché." Clover lit his horn, stroking his field to her shoulder. "So how'd you find this place?"

"About the way you'd expect." Celestia snorted. "All the local villagers had a legend about the gardens of Shangri-Llama. Someone's grandmother needed to save a sick father or kill a marauding beast or something, so she climbed up here, picked a sun-flower, and brought it back down the mountain."

Clover nodded. "Naturally it would catch your attention. Sun-flowers wither at the first hint of cool temperatures, let alone frost. Nobody in the mountains should have even heard of them."

"Yeah, that was Luna's logic. And it sounded like the sort of place Star Swirl would go. So we flew around for a few months till we found it."

Clover inwardly winced at the mention of Star Swirl. He already had enough uncomfortable thoughts lurking in the back of his brain without the big one forcing its way back in.

"Mmh," he grunted, trying to distract himself by rubbing his cheek to Celestia's pelt.

"… What?"

"Nothing," he said — then added, "Nothing important."

Celestia was silent for a moment. "You know, you had a point," she said. "Maybe him leading us around here wasn't all bad. I mean, without that, I wouldn't have all these pretty places to show you."

Clover put his leg atop Celestia's and squeezed. "Frankly, Imperatrix, they're not half as beautiful as the company I'm sharing it with."

It came out before Clover could think it through. And it was followed by a profound silence, as if neither he nor she nor Clover's inner voices could believe what he'd said. Even the distant bird-sounds paused for a moment before resuming high and trilly. Heat prickled at the surface of Clover's cheeks, then spread throughout his muzzle.

Celestia's body against his was a bit too still. Then she squeezed him, and although her tone was light, the laugh she let loose wasn't even on the same continent as genuine. "Hah! I see we're finally starting in on the flattery."

It's not, he wanted to shout. There are no words superlative enough to describe your beauty, which is as impossible and indescribable as everything else about you. If I could wander this entire world, and discover a million sights like this, I would trade them all away for you.

Clover's heart sank. It was true — but what did it matter? She'd heard it from a thousand infatuated ponies before. Even if that weren't the case, he knew where this was ultimately heading, and Clover's feelings had no chance of changing the outcome.

"Well, we both know how tedious you find it," Clover said instead. "What better hint that we need to find my tongue a more suitable distraction?"

Her laugh this time was genuine. "What, right here in front of the phoenixes?"

"Scandalous," Clover deadpanned. "A flock of birds might start thinking you live life at full intensity."

"… Oh, you did not."

He twisted his neck to look up into her eyes with a smirk. "Weren't you the one looking forward to me not letting you win without a challenge?"

Celestia gave him an old, familiar, predatory grin as her horn lit. Clover's body spun around. Then she clamped her mouth around his, and lowered her hooves to his barrel, and the rest was quite distracting indeed.

---

Afterward, Clover turned to his saddlebags for lunch, only to find a number of colorful fruits stacked atop them.

Clover blinked and glanced around. He hadn't seen any motion nearby since they'd arrived, and the nearest phoenix was back down at the edge of the trees, fifty yards away. It lifted its wing, dug its beak into its chest feathers, and let out a satisfied chirrup.

"What are you — oh." Celestia stared at the fruits. "Those cheeky featherheads."

"On the bright side," Clover said — cheeks flushing as he belatedly reassessed the right-here-in-front-of-the-phoenixes thing — "apparently their grudge against you was somewhat overstated."

"Are you kidding? They're never going to let me live this one down." She blew some stray strands of mane out of her face. "At least they like you."

Clover picked up one of the fruits in his hornfield. It was round and hoof-sized, with a hard, waxy, purple skin. "I hope so," he muttered, "after the show we provided."

Celestia grabbed a fruit with her magic, tapped it against a rock with a light crack, then twisted it in half and held it out to Clover. Inside the rind, deep red flesh surrounded a puffy white center that smelled vaguely of caramel and looked vaguely like a bulb of garlic. "Well, eat up. You don't turn down a phoenix meal."

"In a moment." Clover opened his saddlebags, and — after glancing through to check that everything inside seemed untouched — extracted his notebook. "I've never seen anything like this before. I'd like to at least sketch it before we taste our only samples."

Celestia raised one eyebrow, saying nothing. However, by the time Clover had gotten a quick line drawing down, she had already finished a fruit of her own in just a few bites and was pacing in circles around him. He savored a fruit slowly — its taste was surprisingly mild — and as he began jotting down notes on the experience, the book shimmered and snapped closed on his quill, leaving a black splatter on the page.

Clover flinched back in surprise, then glanced up at Celestia, frowning. "What was that for?"

She was rocking back and forth on her hooves, wingtips twitching as her eyes flicked back and forth between him and the distant birds. "C'mon, Frumpy. If you're done eating, we're burning daylight."

Clover glanced over at the phoenixes himself. A growing crowd was accumulating at the edge of the trees. "Are … are you embarrassed?"

"No! We've just …" She made a vague gesture with her hoof. "Got places to go."

From the high, trilling sounds of the phoenix flock, they didn't believe her either.

But Clover relented, stuffing his journal back in his saddlebags and letting Celestia whisk him back into the frigid mountain air. The last he saw of the valley of phoenixes was the flock's largest bird — its plumage a vibrant red like a second sun — waving one wing in a cheerful farewell salute.

---

Little by little, the sights were getting less breathtaking, and the flights in between them longer. Celestia, too, seemed to be slowing down — what in any other pony Clover would have dared call fatigue. When he woke up, or finished eating a meal, or stretched his legs after a bathroom break, she would sprawl out for a while, staring into space — then, a few minutes later, would push herself to her hooves and grab him abruptly, leaping into the air as if they hadn't ever paused.

He started using those in-between minutes to write. A few times, Celestia eyed him but stayed silent, standing over him once ready to leave and waiting just long enough for him to stow the book again. After a languid lunch outside a Sibearean village, that changed.

He was writing up some of their northern encounters when he heard her approaching hoofsteps, and hurriedly finished the sentence in preparation for her to grab him. Instead, she said from over his shoulder: "What are you doing?"

"Just getting down some memories while they're still fresh," Clover murmured, screwing the top back on the container of ink as he wrote the last word.

A hoof flashed through his vision, jostling his diary out of his horngrip. Celestia's own field caught it before Clover could compensate, and floated it up to her muzzle, her eyes flicking curiously around the page. He started, then lunged for his journal into the iron barricade of her outstretched leg.

Celestia's eyes suddenly widened, and her muzzle creased into a sharp frown.

"Memories?" she said. "Really, Frumpy?"

It's all I'm going to have, soon, he didn't say.

"I want to remember this," Clover protested.

"What, seriously?" Celestia scowled. "Listen to this. 'The circumpolar region is an achingly desolate, wind-blasted wasteland, and not even when surrounded by windigos have I felt such cold'? Why would you want to remember that?"

Clover's muzzle flushed. "It's important context —"

"Pfah! Context?" Celestia ripped the page out of his journal — causing Clover's eye to twitch — and shoved the book back into his chest. "You could have just told me you weren't enjoying this!"

"What?" Clover sputtered. "That's not true!"

"Then why are you writing crap like that?"

"Because it's valuable!" Clover stood a little straighter, trying to put enough conviction in his posture that he could soften his voice. "Because everything we do together is valuable."

Celestia snorted. "C'mon, Frumpy. Bad memories are failures. You don't go out on a battlefield and try to lose. You don't fling yourself off a cliff and try to keep your wings closed. You think writing a book is different? You're an idiot if you're trying to make your memories more bad."

Clover frowned. "You're wrong, Imperatrix. Of course I don't want to experience bad things, but having had those experiences, I don't want to forget them. The way we learn is from our failures."

"Am I failing, then?" Celestia snapped, tensing up. "Is this trip a failure? Is that what you're saying?"

A voice in the back of Clover's head began screaming in warning. "No! That's not —" he blurted out before a competing voice of principle began shouting to drown it out. He was a scholar — and goddess or not, lover or not, she was spitting in his face if she was calling his writing a waste. He took a breath and stared her straight in the eyes.

"Imperatrix," he said, a hard edge in his tone, "this has been a good trip. But I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me there's absolutely nothing you would have done differently if you could do it over."

For a fraction of a second — before her wings snapped wide open — Celestia's eyes widened. By the time Clover parsed the fear in her expression, it was already gone.

She squared off with him, dropping into a dangerous crouch. "No!" she shouted. "Of course not!"

"In that case," Clover said coolly, "why are you upset that I'm writing it down?"

Celestia's muzzle contorted through disbelief into a snarl. Her wings quivered. Her horn lit. Clover's life flashed before his eyes as the voice of fear finally overwhelmed the voice of argument.

Then, without a word, Celestia bolted straight upward with a mighty flap of her wings. Her horn flared. And with a brilliant flash, she was gone.

---

It only took a moment for the regrets to sink in.

What was I thinking?! Clover facehoofed and let out a hissing breath between his teeth. Stupid. Stupid! She was right. This trip has been magical. I could have left the bad parts out entirely and still had enough material for a hundred books.

A quiet voice muttered that maybe it was for the best. He'd been waiting for the horseshoe to drop ever since the start of the trip; now at least he could get on with his life. What life? the voice of regret immediately snapped. What could I ever do that would be a fraction as amazing as what she's shown me in less than three weeks? He didn't even need to listen to that voice; the way that his heart seemed to burst in his chest and pool in his stomach was answer enough.

Clover glanced around wildly, hoping to spot where Celestia had teleported in case she was still close enough to apologize to. It was no use. The only white in the skies was a tiny dot on the distant horizon — and it vanished while he was watching and never reappeared.

Instead, Clover trudged the league to the nearby village and begged a farmer for some blankets and some sleeping space in a dilapidated shed.

In the morning, he walked to the edge of the village and tried to orient himself enough to follow the vague directions he'd been given to the next town westward. Then he caught sight of a flash of white in the sky. He looked up, and his heart stopped. Celestia locked eyes with him, vanished, and appeared a pace away, her posture tall and her expression intent.

"I'm sorry," he immediately blurted out.

Celestia's hoof shot to his muzzle. "Let me talk, Frumpy!" she snapped — and squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, struggling to compose herself with a breath through the nose.

When she opened her eyes again, there was a fire in them, but no heat. She took another breath, wingtips quivering. "So," she said, voice tight. "We came out here so I could win your heart. And we both knew you weren't going to let me win without a challenge."

"Okay?" Clover said, suddenly lost. Voices of hope and fear and need were blurring together into a muddy, incoherent mess in his head.

Celestia breathed in and out again, looking a little more composed with each one. "Well, you certainly decided to be a challenge yesterday. I guess you had to be sure I could put up with a little trash talk." Her lips curled back in a brief, defiant smile. "It's been a while since anypony was able to get under my skin. Took me a little while to realize that was all it was."

Clover's heart leapt back to life. He remembered to breathe. It's not over! he thought madly. Somehow, it's not over. And next to that, the idea that he was still just a challenge to her was only a tiny sting.

"So," she said, fixing him with a level stare. "Even though this is our trip, I left you here overnight by yourself. And even though you were a jerk, I should probably apologize for that, huh."

Clover allowed himself a hopeful smile. "If I accept," he said gently, "will you let me apologize too for being wrong yesterday?"

Celestia hesitated for a moment. Then a slightly too eager grin began to spread across her muzzle.

"Deal," she said quickly. "So what were you wrong about?"

"Imperatrix," he said — stepping forward and offering her a hoof as his heart began to thud in his chest — "this is the most incredible experience I've ever had. Context is valuable, but I can't let it obscure that. And I don't ever want you to think that this — or you — have been any less than amazing."

"This has been pretty amazing," she said, visibly relaxing. "I haven't had this much fun in decades, myself."

"Thank you for sharing it with me," Clover said softly, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Celestia laughed, and he watched the rest of the tension drain from her. "Well, of course," she said, eyes going half-lidded. "I mean, we're both supposed to be bringing our best to this, right?"

Clover stepped forward, his own tension dissolving, and nuzzled her chest. She lifted a leg and gently draped it over his back.

"Most incredible experience ever, huh," she said.

Clover grinned. "Absolutely."

"Even the bad memories?"

"Even the bad memories."

Clover could feel Celestia grin through her neck muscles. "Then they're not actually bad memories, are they?"

Clover laughed. "Very clever, Imperatrix," he parried. "It's such a clever point, in fact, that I myself made it yesterday."

Celestia gave him a light-for-her, chest-compressing squeeze. "No you didn't," she said. "Yesterday you got me by pointing out I didn't think anything in the trip was bad. Now I'm pointing out that you don't, either."

"I…" Clover paused, then lifted his head and stared into her eyes. "Huh. I think you got me."

The amount of smugness in Celestia's expression could have powered a water-wheel.

"Look me in the eyes," she said, holding his gaze, "and tell me that there's another pony in the world capable of giving you a perfect trip with not a single bad part."

Clover didn't even try to keep the stupid grin off his muzzle.

"I can't, Imperatrix," he said softly. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

For a moment, Celestia's smug grin dissolved into a smile, pure and bright. Then she blinked a few times and swallowed, and a flicker of uncertainty appeared in her eyes. Her mouth started to form words, then froze again.

Clover swallowed, too, his eyes locked with hers, feeling the flush on his cheeks spread throughout his face. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips to hers.

And, for once, she merely leaned into the kiss, savoring the press of their muzzles as they both closed their eyes.

---

On the nineteenth day of their trip, he was sprawled atop Celestia in a long-abandoned cathedral made of pure gemstone — basking in the scintillating glow of reflected light, and drifting to sleep amid the slow rise and fall of her chest — when she stirred underneath him.

"Frumpy?"

"Yes, Imperatrix?"

"Where do you want to go next?" she said, and fear congealed in Clover's veins.

It would have been a harmless question from any other pony. Even from her, in any other circumstance it might have felt touching. But there was a certain momentum behind it — the slowing pace of their trip, the fading shine of their destinations, her growing restlessness — that took the question right off a cliff without wings.

She'd shown him wonder after wonder, most quite beyond his capability to imagine. A question like that, Clover knew with a dread certainty, meant she was out of marvels to woo him with. That meant letting the blazing wonder of their mad vacation fade into the mundane. And that meant there was nothing left to keep Celestia from getting bored with him and moving on.

He had known all along there was no other way that this could possibly end. Considering the potential catastrophes looming around every turn, he should have even been relieved at the prospect. But actually thinking about the idea of losing her twisted Clover's insides around so violently that he could scarcely breathe.

"I," he said, faltering. "Ah."

Celestia stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I mean," she added, "we could go out exploring, I guess. But trust me, it's not the good time everypony thinks it is. Exploring is the years of tedium you put in so you can get to where the days of adventures are."

He could suggest more adventures. Couldn't he? No. There was nothing worth suggesting.

"We could go pick fights with dragons again." She made a vague hoof gesture in the air past his shoulder. "But the migration's over by now, and they get pretty ornery once they lair up."

… Nothing sane worth suggesting.

"Or, I don't know. Go hang out in strange cities for a while. Set some drinking records. Overthrow an empire."

"Lambyang was … somewhat nice," Clover said.

She laughed humorlessly. "No it wasn't. It was an oppressive dungheap that hadn't quite driven the last of the good creatures out yet."

Clover chuckled back and gave the most casual shrug he could muster. "That makes it more interesting, right?"

"Depends on why you want to go back." Celestia went silent for a few moments, then said quietly: "You know, Luna's probably starting to wonder where I am."

Clover's heart squeezed anew. The same had to be true of Pansy and Cookie. The smart move was heading home — he wasn't even sure what else to suggest. But every voice in his head screamed in unison at the thought of giving in and letting her slip away.

He sat up, catching Celestia's gaze with the motion.

"Honestly," Clover said with an intensity he didn't know he possessed, "it doesn't matter where we go, as long as it's with you."

Celestia stared back, blinking — and an unsteady smile spread across her muzzle. And for a moment, before she glanced away … perhaps it was a trick of the cathedral's light, or a reflection off her mane, or perhaps there was a slight trace of pink under the gleaming white fuzz of her cheeks.

She drew his body back down to hers with a hug. "I guess that means I win, then," she murmured, though her tone was strangely subdued. A forced joke, bizarrely devoid of triumph. A deflection.

Perhaps, Clover thought, like she didn't want this to end either — but didn't have any more idea how to escape that fate than he did.

It was that thought which spurred the stupid, clever voice in the back of Clover's brain to full volume — and jolted him into motion. He wriggled out from under her foreleg, sitting up next to her and clasping one of her hooves.

"Imperatrix," he said, pouring every ounce of his love and fear and hope into the conviction in his voice, "part of me — no, most of me — wants nothing more than to agree. You are like no other mare I've ever met, and now that I've gotten to know you, there's no way I could ever settle for anything less. By any standard you care to name, any creature on the planet would agree my heart is yours." He felt his throat getting dry as the weight of the moment settled in. "But we agreed I wasn't going to let you win without a challenge … and I think, finally, I've found a challenge worthy of you."

Celestia sat upright, eyes lighting up, and a little twinge passed through Clover's gut. It was crude manipulation — and that was the least of the reasons it was a horrible idea. Never mind the near certainty that she would break him by accident. Never mind the prophecy. Definitely never mind the prophecy.

He didn't care. He just couldn't let it end so soon.

"Do you know why they call it falling in love?" he asked.

"I don't know. It sounds more poetic or something?"

"No." He patted her hoof. "It's actually fairly straightforward, Imperatrix. Love is a state — it's something you can be in, or fall through. And like falling, getting started is the easy part."

Celestia studied him, standing and turning to face him. "What are you saying?"

"You can't fall forever, or you crash. But the act of falling isn't impressive — it's seeing how long you can go before you pull away from the ground. How close to the edge you can get." He grinned at her. "So my challenge to you is … set aside the handicap of a trip that would win any heart on the planet. And show me how long you can make this work."

She considered the idea for long enough that Clover's heart began to pound in his chest. Then a smile slowly started to spread across her muzzle.

"So even though we go home," she said, "you stay with me. For as long as I can keep you."

Clover smiled back shakily. "For as long as you dare to keep trying," he said. It wasn't forever, but it was still rewinding the clock ticking down toward their ending, and that was more than enough to flood his chest with relief.

She gave his ear a surprisingly tender nuzzle, then pulled back to stare into his eyes with an irrepressible grin. "I love the idea, Frumpy."

Clover let out a gentle laugh, losing himself in that violet gaze. "I love you, Celestia."

As he said it, he wondered if he was overstepping. And it seemed to take her a moment to parse it, herself. But then her smile widened. "Not Imperatrix any more, huh?"

"No," Clover said. "She's not the one who beat me."

"Huh," Celestia said. Then: "Huh."

And she leaned down to kiss him, and their bodies moved together, and they held each other in the shimmering rainbow light of the gemstone cathedral.

Author's Note:

We've reached the halfway point, and the end of the travel arc!

…Huh. Tomorrow's chapter is called "The Amulet". Buckle your seat beats, and let's find out what Star Swirl's gift actually does!

(If you're new to the story, speculate in comments! If you read the original short story, don't spoil it — it's more fun to read all the guesses.)

Comments

[horizon]

Ninja'ed in a last-second author's note I thought I'd put in before clicking Publish.

Welcome to our halfway point, and the start of Arc 3! Poor Clover's got the hook set deep. Now it's time for prophecy to start reeling him in.

[FanOfMostEverything]

Though Star Swirl's probably watching this from outside the timestream, the old bastard.

Still, wonderful stuff. Now to see everypony's reactions when they hear about the new challenge. And, you know, see that Clover survived.

[Darkstarling]

I was wrong. This isn't Enkidu and Ishtar. This is The Doctor and River Song.

[Steel Resolve]

Makes sense. Clover was never overly impressed with her power, but with the pony herself. That's why she found him interesting to begin with. With that much magic and physical strength, only an intellectual challenge would have a chance.

[PhycoKrusk]

Tomorrow's chapter is called "The Amulet". Buckle your seat beats, and let's find out what Star Swirl's gift actually does!

[Bugsydor]

Halfway point?! But that means I only have half a book left to read!

Well, it's been a wonderful journey so far.

[Ri2]

9747803
So he's going to wind up in a library, abandoned and forgotten?

[Darkstarling]

9748049
Ha! I mean I wouldn't put it past him, but no. Not least because that's not how I'd characterize how things ended with her.

I more meant spending years resigned to loving someone he thinks of as a goddess trying to be okay with the fact that while they may be in a relationship she doesn't love him back. Only to find out that no, she does in fact love him too, and getting to live a life together after all.

[Ri2]

9748061
And THEN get put in a library and abandoned.

[lebowski42]

This would be a great ending , and I was almost sure it was. Finding out we're only half way through is a like seeing the rollercoster has half the track left and you totally missed some loop-de-loops.

[Darkstarling]

9748068
Blame Starswirl. It's usually a safe bet.

[Joural]

9747752

Isn't sayig prophecy is starting to reel him in rather like saying gravity started to pull him down? You never experienced a moment when you weren't pulled toward the earth or your inevitable fate- ypu just didn't notice until the earth gave way beneath you.

[Ri2]

9748100
Of course. It's a library in another dimension.

[hypervelocity]

Aw man, Clover has fallen hard, hasn't he?

But I'm so excited to see what Celestia thinks long term wooing will be like.

[Vaguely Demented]

How sweet...now excuse me while I climb into this bunker in hopes of shielding myself for the inevitable tragedy fast approaching.

[Viper Redbird]

Goodness, after reading the original I must say I love this one even more! Those extra words really hammer in the relationship they're building and how surreal this must be to both Clover and Celestia.

[djthomp]

Afterward, Clover turned to his saddlebags for lunch, only to find a number of colorful fruits stacked atop them.

In bird language this is a very strong statement.

On the nineteenth day of their trip, he was sprawled atop Celestia in a long-abandoned cathedral made of pure gemstone — basking in the scintillating glow of reflected light, and drifting to sleep amid the slow rise and fall of her chest — when she stirred underneath him.

My first thought here was "is nothing sacred", but then I started wondering if sex with a demigoddess is possibly a sacred experience in and of itself which might make this a fairly fitting place for it.

"So even though we go home," she said, "you stay with me. For as long as I can keep you."

Making the romance work past the end of the whirlwind vacation where it started is definitely the real test.

[iisaw]

Goddamn prophecies! No, seriously, f#@k prophecies.

Yes, making the relationship last... that's always the greatest challenge. When you run out of worlds to explore... make more.

[The Great Derpsby]

I see Celestia took well to Starswirl's lesson of throwing your apprentice at problems without telling them squat.

[RainbowDoubleDash]

Sorry I stopped commenting! I work outside and the weather has been Hell. When I got home all I wanted to do was veg out and play some Shantae. Then even on the days off I have work to do getting ready for an upcoming D&D campaign I’m DMing. So I fell behind. But I’m still invested in this story!

Anyway, this chapter. Y’know, it’s surprising to me how despite being the archetypal bad Star Trek movie, The Final Frontier (The One Where God Needs a Starship) has one of the most relevant, important scenes in cinema, when Kirk is refusing Sybok’s offer to take away his pain and join his little cult. There’s been a lot of stories where the idea of bad experiences and pain being important have been resonant. In MLP we have Starlight’s premier episode, or Tank’s hibernation episode where even Fluttershy realizes that Rainbow Dash needs to hurt before she can heal. To be as neutral and honest as possible that was a major take away for me from The Virgin Princess (and one of the reasons why I and so many others were baffled by GaPJaxie claiming in seriousness rather than ironically that had a happy ending for Twilight). Trying to ignore or prevent pain in herself and towards her little ponies is a major part of why my own character of Corona is presented as insane. And it’s relevant to this chapter, too.

Pain is important. It’s a good if harsh teacher, and it’s a fundamental part of the human experience. The pain we go through in our lives helps to contextualize the good and bad times. Pain is even something to be deliberately sought out at times. No pain, no gain, after all.

[Gavier]

That was one hell of a honeymoon

[KMCA]

"Look me in the eyes," she said, holding his gaze, "and tell me that there's another pony in the world capable of giving you a perfect trip with not a single bad part."

I'm a bastard, I'd have probably given her a tender kiss and then with as joking as possible start walking away and just say "Maybe your sister."
But Celestia seems so fragile emotionally that it wouldn't be lovingly teasing but heartlessly cruel.