Celestia XVII

by brokenimage321

Memory: The Day We Surprised Her

“Thank you very much, Mr. Goldleaf,” I said grandly. I tucked away the big, old-fashioned key he’d given me in my bags.

Old Mister Goldleaf huffed a little at me. “Young lady,” he said, a little too loudly, “I don’t mind you taking over my library for the evening, but please, don’t rearrange the books—”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Goldleaf,” I said.

“—I don’t mean to imply you’re irresponsible,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me (which, now that I think about it, he probably hadn’t), “but it takes me hours every day to put back all the books those young whippersnappers leave out of place.” He gestured angrily. “They just—throw ‘em around, like they own the place! Got no respect for the Dewey Decimal system, that’s what’s wrong with this generation…”

I smiled a little, then looked around as Old Mister Goldleaf continued to rant. We stood on the main floor of the Golden Oak Library, the air filled with the scent of dust and age. I wasn’t much for reading, myself, and the library was almost depressingly small, but it was a library. And a government building, to boot. Treehouse? Government Treehouse.

In either case: one of the perks of my position is that I had free run of any government building, be they inside trees or no. Which meant that, when I was looking for somewhere fun and exciting to stay while in Ponyville for the Summer Sun Celebration, and happened to stumble across the detail that the library had a disused apartment on its second floor, I knew exactly where we would be staying.

That was the other reason I’d given Twilight that long list of errands to run: so I could get here first, and spend some time getting it ready for the two of us. But first, I had to get rid of Goldleaf, who was still going on about foals these days—and was, somehow, oblivious to the fact that one of said foals was standing directly in front of him, patiently waiting for him to finish.

I continued listening with half an ear until he shifted from ranting about foals these days to that’s what’s wrong with government, at which point, I realized that he was going to be a while.

“Yes yes yes,” I said, raising my voice again. “I’m sure that you’re right—after all, you have thought long and hard about these things…”

Mr. Goldleaf finally shut up, then looked up at me owlishly through his eyeglasses. It seemed that, for just a second, he’d forgotten I was even there. Nevertheless, I took him by the hoof and started walking him towards the door.

“I’m sure our Palace analysts could use the opinions of someone so wise and philosophical as yourself,” I said, tugging him along, “but it really is getting late—it’s almost five-thirty already! Why don’t you get along home to your wife, and we can talk about this more tomorrow, hm?”

He puffed out his chest a little. “Why, of course, young lady,” he said. “And it’s wonderful to find that there’s someone out there who—”

“Of course, of course,” I said, cutting him off. “Now, run along home—and I’ll take good care of your books for you. No one will dare disrespect Mr. Decimal on my watch!”

By now, we were at the door. I held it open for him, and he almost pranced out into the mid-summer air. “I have every confidence you will,” he said. “And I shall—”

I smiled at him, then shut the door before he could get started again. I quickly drew the key from my bags, locked the door, sagged against it, and sighed. I tossed the key in the air, caught it again, set it on top of a nearby bookshelf, and trotted upstairs.

I pushed open the door to the apartment, poked my head inside, and stared. After a minute, I let out a low whistle, then walked the rest of the way in. They hadn’t been lying: there was an apartment up here on the second floor, with a bathroom and a kitchenette and everything. But they hadn’t mentioned it was so tiny—I probably could have fit the whole thing inside my bedroom twice over! Nor did they mention that, apparently, Mr. Goldleaf had been using the space as his own private breakroom.

In the center of the floor stood a card table, with a couple mismatched folding chairs around it. A coffeemaker sat on the counter next to the sink, surrounded by a little flock of coffee stains. A stack of cardboard boxes stood in one corner, and I could already see the cobwebs from here. And, of course, every flat surface was covered in crumbs.

I stared for a moment, then cracked a grin. I had to admit this was… unexpected, but all it really needed was a little elbow grease. Plus, I had another hour or two before Twi was supposed to be home, so I had time.

I fished a scrunchie from my bag, then drew my mane back in a ponytail. As I snapped the scrunchie in place, I looked around for the broom.

* * *

About half an hour later, right as I was deciding where to stash the card table, the door downstairs clicked open.

I brightened, then skipped to the door of the apartment. I swung it open, eager to greet Twilight—but froze.

The first thing I noticed was that the key to the door was where I had left it, on top of a bookshelf by the door. The second thing I noticed was the pink pony staring guiltily up at me.

She looked rather young, and had a light-pink coat, with an absurdly curly mane. She wore saddlebags already stuffed to bursting, and the small cart she’d parked outside groaned under the weight of its contents. In her mouth, she held a metal ring, with several thin pieces of twisted metal dangling from it.

“Can I… help you?” I asked slowly.

She flashed a bright, almost-blinding grin at me—somehow making her lockpicks vanish as she did.

“Are you the Princess?” she asked eagerly.

“I am,” I said.

The little mare grinned wider, if that was even possible, and bounced—bounced—towards the stairs

“I’m Pinkie Pie,” she beamed. “But you can call me Pinkie.”

“Well, Pinkie,” I said, “care to tell me what, exactly, you’re doing here tonight?”

“Throwing a surprise party!” she cried.

“A surprise party?” I repeated.

“Yep! For my new bestest friend, Twilight Sparkle!”

I raised an eyebrow. “So… you’ve met, then?” I asked.

“Sorta,” she admitted. “We… passed in the street.”

“And that’s enough to make you want to throw a party for her?” I asked.

“A surprise party,” she corrected me. “To welcome her to Ponyville. I do it for everyone who’s new to town—I woulda thrown one for you, too,” she added, “if I knew you were staying overnight…”

Does that mean she picks everyone else’s locks, too?

“Are you Ponyville’s welcoming committee, then?” I asked aloud.

“Not officially,” she said. “Just want to make sure everypony feels welcome, and that they meet a whole buncha other ponies on their first day here. Everyone needs a friend in a new town, after all…”

I felt a little smile creep across my face. Her enthusiasm was positively infectious. Plus, the prospect of helping Twilight meet more ponies…

“You want any help?” I asked.

She stared at me for a second, then, broke into her bright, sunshiny grin again.

* * *

I was helping her hang streamers when she asked me the question.

I had already taped one end of the streamer to the ceiling with my magic, and was trying to judge where to hang the other end, when Pinkie looked up from the balloon she was tying.

“So,” she said, as if we were already in the middle of a conversation, “what’s it like being Princess?”

I looked over at her, then turned back to the streamer. “That’s… kind of a big question,” I said. “Anything in particular you’re wondering…?”

“Oh, lots,” she said, off-handedly. “Like, what’s it like moving the sun?”

I snorted. “I don’t think you’d understand,” I said, glancing up at the empty space in the middle of her forehead. “No offense, it’s just that you’re…”

“A caring individual who wants to understand the lives of her friends?” she said, without skipping a beat. “Try me.”

I raised an eyebrow. Didn’t take her long to make “friends,” apparently. “Well,” I said slowly, “It’s… actually not that hard, to be honest… the Sun Stone does most of the work. I just kinda need to fire it up, and make sure the sun moves in the right direction.”

“Do you have to set the sun, too?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. Momentum takes care of that. I just gotta raise it in the morning, is all.”

She nodded. “And what’s with the season changes?” she asked. “The days get shorter and shorter as it gets colder… do you have a schedule or something…?”

I blew out a long, slow breath. Don’t ask me, I thought to myself, I didn’t exactly ace my astrophysics course, after all...

“Not sure,” I admitted. “I always start raising the sun at the same time… but something about the seasons makes it move faster or slower. I… I think it has something to do with the Stone itself…?”

Pinkie nodded, then grabbed another balloon and started to blow it up.

“It… it takes a lot out of you,” I admitted. “Raising the sun, I mean. Especially the Summer Sun Celebration, but…” I shrugged. “I’ve kinda got used to it. Hardest part is still the moon, of course.”

Pinkie looked up at me. “What’s the moon got to do with it?” she asked.

“Well…” I said slowly, “I’m in charge of the sun… But the moon’s gotta move, too. A-and, sometimes, when I move the sun, it gets a lot harder, suddenly.” I scratched my head. “I think the sun kinda pushes the moon along, a little?”

Pinkie shrugged. “Makes sense,” she said. “So… what else do you do, when you’re not raising the sun?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, “the usual. School, homework, that sorta stuff.”

“Any other Princess-ing you gotta do?”

“Not really,” I said. “I have ponies taking care of almost everything. All I have to do is hold Court twice a week in the afternoons, and rubber-stamp anything big that someone wants to do. My…” I swallowed. “My mom set it up that way. Before she died.”

Pinkie glanced up at me, then nodded. “Sounds easy,” she said.

I looked over at her. She was fishing another balloon out of the pile. I didn’t have the heart to argue with her. Plus, I wasn’t sure she’d understand… she didn’t know what it was like, everyone expecting you to have all the answers, all the time… everyone treating you like you were different, somehow, just because your mom willed you a piece of jewelry when she died…

“Sorta,” I admitted.

I stuck the other end of the streamer over a window. It wasn’t even, but I wasn’t sure I cared anymore.

“So,” I said, trying to force some enthusiasm in my voice, “Who all is coming to this shindig?”

“Surprise party,” she corrected me. “Not a shindig. Whole different can o’ spaghetti.” She looked up at me and smiled. “I’ve invited practically everyone,” she said. “Including some very very dear friends of mine.” Her eyes glittered. “You’ll love these ponies,” she said. “There’s Rainbow Dash, who likes to play tough but is really a pushover, and Fluttershy, who’s so timid she really is scared of her own shadow sometimes, and then there’s Rarity, who…”

Comments

[Comickook]

VERY good job on this flashback chapter. :-D I absolutely loved the exchanges and characterizations, naturally, and Celestia's first meeting with Pinkie was quite well done .

And, now I'm on to the next chapter.

[RainbowSparkle3]

I don't know if I'd call Rainbow a pushover.

[reader238]

Hmm it occurs to me that without spike how did twilight's interaction with Fluttershy go?

[Lurks-no-More]

It makes perfect sense that Pinkie would know how to pick locks.

[Zuabug]

Ugh, but sometimes I wish I had a friend like her...