Celestia XVII

by brokenimage321

Trumpet, Piano, & Voice in C Major, "That Lucky Old Sun"

I pushed open the door a few inches, then peered cautiously around it. The hall was empty. Good.

I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, then let out a long sigh into the silence. This hall was usually busy, but now, after dinner but before sunset, when the Palace was closing up for the night but before all the workers had actually gone home, it was empty. All was quiet—the quiet of the spirits of the dead, and the weight of time.

This was the Memorial Hall.

I walked down the corridor. Luna had been making me wear my regalia—Peytral, crown, and horseshoes—so I was glad the carpet was there to muffle the sound of my hoof-falls. The Memorial Hall was a long, straight, narrow corridor, connecting the Palace lobby to the throne room. Both walls were filled with tall, pointed windows, with two-thirds of them filled with stained glass. I tried to avoid this hallway when I could, but, sometimes, I liked to come here to think. Like tonight.

I walked past the first window, filled with a massive stained-glass image of a beautiful mare, a golden Peytral around her neck, and a sun disk of yellow-gold glass behind her head. There was a small plaque by her window, but I didn’t need it. I knew her name and her history—hers, and the sixty-one who followed her, just as well as I knew my own. Many of them had lived and died, largely unremarkable and barely remembered, but Equestria had been built on the backs of these mares. As I passed the big ones, the important ones, their names leapt, unbidden, to my mind:

Helia, Second Princess of the Sun. Daughter of Solis, first Princess. She held a trowel, and around her hooves stood the half-completed towers of Canterlot Palace. She’d been the first one to earn a window, after she passed; whatever memorials there were to my foremothers before her lay buried in the old castle in the woods.

Celestia III, Ninth Princess. She held a spear and wore a helmet, and a frightened griffon cowered at her hooves. She’d driven the griffons into the mountains, and there they’d stayed ever since. Even a mention of her name was still supposed to scare them away.

Celestia Heartwood, Fourteenth Princess, one hoof on the head of a sick pony, the other holding a foal. She helped heal ponies during a time of plague, and her people loved her for it. She’d even written textbooks that were still being used in hospitals four hundred years later.

Theia, twenty-first Princess. Most of the mares in the windows had pale coats, but hers was a deep, vibrant red. Unlike the others, she wasn’t wearing the Peytral—instead, she carried it in her hoof. Theia was actually a regent, waiting for her charge, an infant whose mother had died at birth, to be old enough to wear the Peytral herself. She helped centralize power in Canterlot—some suspected, to legitimize her own position—before being assassinated in her sleep. The murderer was never caught, but most suspected the now-teenager whose throne she’d conveniently forgotten to concede had something to do with it.

Noctis and Umbra, side-by-side, Twenty-Seventh and Twenty-Eighth Princesses—the Shadow Queens. Both were armed and armored—one of them held a sword, the other an axe—and the sun-disks behind their heads were purple and dark. The two of them, cousins of a childless Princess, both claimed the throne after her death, sparking the Shadow Wars. No one was quite sure in which order they got hold of the Peytral, nor which of them was the one who plunged the world into night, but someone had decided that, as Princesses, they both deserved their window. I would have objected, myself, but it was far too late to argue.

Celestia VI, Thirty-Third Princess. The artist had given her a dark shadow, who most identified as her father, Prince Gladius. Though no one could prove it, rumors were that Gladius had killed Iris, Thirty-Second Princess, and tried to take the Peytral for his own. The legends say that whatever magic turned ordinary mares into Princesses refused to work for him, so he passed the Peytral on to his weak-willed daughter, and turned her into his personal puppet.

Starcatcher, Thirty-Fourth Princess and niece of Iris, carried a staff and wore a star-spangled cape. She used her magic to defeat Prince Gladius and Princess Celestia VI, then take the Peytral for her own. The legend goes that she was born under a special star, and was therefore fated to right the wrongs done to Equestria—but it may have had something to do with the fact that Gladius was an old stallion by that point, and Celestia VI deeply unpopular.

Celestia IX, Forty-Third Princess, held a telescope and stood in the bow of a ship. Sailed around the world, twice, helping to spread Equestrian influence all over the world, before ever settling down.

Amethyst, Forty-Fourth Princess, daughter of Celestia IX. She’d apparently taken after her father: she stood in front of a burning fireplace, a rocking chair by her side.

Celestia Rue, Forty-Eighth Princess, poor dear. She carried a paintbrush, and stood in a garden of flowers. She’d worn the Peytral for a year-and-a-half before her mind snapped. They’d crowned her successor, her younger sister, just before throwing her in the madhouse.

And then—I smiled a little—there was dear old Willow. Fifty-Second Princess, wearing a headband and carrying a lyre. Mother of the Flower Children: Heliotrope, Cornflower, and Snapdragon, Princesses Fifty-Three, Fifty-Four, and Fifty-Five, respectively. By all accounts, Willow was very kind, but, well… she was more concerned with having a good time than such mundane activities as ruling. She never married, but had five different children by at least three fathers. And, though she had the religious authorities frothing at the mouth, the historians had to admit that this was one of the benefits of a matriarchal succession: since there was no question who the mother was, it followed that there were very few questions of legitimacy.

Celestia Jessamine, Fifty-Sixth Princess, carried a book and a torch. Some called her a reformer, others a zealot, but everyone agreed she was a Believer. In the wake of Willow and her daughters, Celestia Jessamine fought to redeem Canterlot’s failing morals, and bring us all back to the True Path. She had only mixed success, in the end, but still had her own fountain in downtown Canterlot. So that was something, at least.

Celestia XVI, Sixty-First Princess, had some gray in her mane. She came to the throne at age thirty-five, and had lived past eighty. She wore a lab coat and carried a flask; she’d spent most of her time in the lab, discovering, inventing, or refining some great new invention. She had ruled for so long that it wasn’t her daughter, but her granddaughter who took the Peytral after her.

I swallowed, then stopped walking. After a moment, I turned to look at said granddaughter, where she stood in the next window. The last Princess stood tall, proud, and beautiful, her coat a soft cream, her mane a dark reddish-brown. She carried an open book and a quill; she’d nearly graduated law school by the time that the Peytral fell to her, and she’d applied her lawyer’s mind to her new Princessly duties. She’d done great things for Equestria, like simplifying and streamlining the bureaucracy and the legal code—but those had been accomplishments that didn’t exactly grab headlines. That, plus the fact that she’d been sick so often, meant that she didn’t really spend a lot of time in the public eye—which lead to the common, though mistaken, belief that she hadn’t really been much of a Princess at all.

And, truth be told, she wasn’t that much better of a mother.

I sighed. “Hey, Mom,” I said.

Mom—or, the glass image I’d come to think of as Mom—said nothing.

“How are things?” I asked. “Same as always?” I chuckled at my own little joke… even though it hadn’t been funny for at least the past hundred times or so.

The window said nothing.

I looked down at the carpet. “Me? Well… you know. School sucks, Blueblood’s wild, Loonie’s awful. Not much to say beyond that.” I sighed. “Twilight’s still in Ponyville. I wish she was still here… I… I could really use a friendly face these days…”

The window said nothing.

I looked away. “I’m still grounded, if that’s what you’d call it,” I said. “Loonie watches me like a hawk, and I’m always nervous around her—waiting for her to decide that the way I’m breathing is somehow un-Princessly. I… I thought she was hard on me before, but now…”

I turned and started pacing. “With her, it’s…” I sighed. “I never know if I’m doing the right thing, y’know? I try to do what I think she wants me to, but every time, it feels almost like…” I gestured vaguely. “Like she’s still judging me, even when I’m doing my best. Like I’m… wrong, somehow, but I can’t tell how or why…” I sighed, then glanced back at her. “Does that make sense?” I asked. “Trying to do right by someone, but every move I make is the wrong one? And knowing that, if I made her mad enough, she’s gonna…”

I looked back up at the window. Was that the faint hint of a smile on her face? I could never decide.

I shook my head, then looked away. “I feel like a prisoner,” I said. “I haven’t spent time with my friends in three weeks—I haven’t even seen Twilight since I left Ponyville…” I growled. “I can’t even write her without Luna knowing. She won't let me keep parchment and quills in my room anymore. It’s…” I snarled uselessly, then trailed off.

After a moment, I walked back over to Mom, then looked up at her. I stood there for another moment, then chuckled a little. “You know,” I said, looking away, “I spend a lot more time talking to you now than I ever did back before… well…” I fluffed my wings a little. I took a deep breath, then let it out. “Maybe it’s because you can’t really get on me for talking back anymore…”

The window said nothing.

I glanced down at the carpet again, then looked down the hall. In the light of the setting sun, my ancestors shone. Paintbrushes, axes, telescopes, and staves glowed, larger-than-life, where the sunset had thrown them on the carpet.

“How did you know?” I asked quietly, looking back up at Mom. “All these Princesses had something to do. Some war that needed fighting, or some problem that needed solving.” I chuckled darkly. “Even Willow found something to keep herself busy, at least.” I sighed again. “But me…? All I have is a creaky old nightmare of an Aunt and a GPA that would scare off any college recruiter—at least, if I wasn’t a Princess...”

I glanced nervously at the window next to Mom’s—my window. It was still plain glass, waiting for me to kick the bucket before they could decide what was really so great about me, after all. I glanced back at Mom, then ran my hoof through my mane. “I… I don’t even know what to say. I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like… I don’t know, like I should have a war, or a plague, or something. Something to fight, or fix, or take care of. Right now, with all the lawyers and bureaucrats and advisors, the only thing I really have to do is raise the sun in the morning, and the rest of the country pretty much takes care of itself. It’s been—what, almost three weeks since Ponyville? And all I’ve done is school and band and study.” I put a hoof to my forehead. “I—I feel like I’m starting to go crazy, and—”

I took a deep breath, staring into Mom’s cut-glass eyes. “I-I feel so useless,” I stammered. “All I want to do is be left alone, but I can’t—I have this damn—” I tugged at my Peytral. “What do I do?” I pleaded. “What sort of Princess should I be?” I took a step forward and looked up, desperately, at my mother. “For once in my life, Mama,” I said, “help me.”

The window said nothing.

As I stared up at her, the silence in the hall grew deeper. Deafening. Crushing. I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes.

“Nice talk, Mom,” I said bitterly. I turned away and stalked back down the hall.

Author's Note:

The song "That Lucky Old Sun" is symbolically important to this chapter, more than most of the other titles. My own preferred version is Louis Armstrong, of course, though there are definitely others (Ray Charles's cover is nice, but a little "soul" for my tastes). If you have a few minutes, I would recommend listening to the song, and especially reading the lyrics (found, among other places, in the description of the video linked above).

I will hasten to add that, read literally, the song (with lyrics describing a desire to leave this life of pain and sorrow) could suggest that Celestia is suicidal at this point in the story. If you prefer that interpretation, you're welcome to it, but that's not my intention: I wanted to suggest, instead, that Celestia was jealous of her forebears--those "Lucky old sun(s who have) nothing to / do but roll around heaven all day."

In either case, I know that suicide is no joke, and is not to be taken lightly. If you are feeling suicidal yourself, please seek help. You matter more than you know. The number for the national suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255; I hear they're good at what they do. You can do it!

Comments

[Level Dasher]

Wow. Very nice. I like the lore of the previous princesses that you brought in here. Great to have when you're working with an AU. This is just the right amount of bitterness towards her mother that I would have expected from Cece, especially given the previous memory. Enough to be obvious, but not enough to show real hatred. I repeat: very nice.

---

Only one thing really glared at me this time.

I look a deep breath, staring into Mom’s cut-glass eyes.

[ValNitak Choas]

kind of expect for luna to be in there watch and hear it all.

[brokenimage321]

8685384
Oo, that would have been a fun twist... but, no, Luna won't get her redemption for a couple chapters yet.

[brokenimage321]

8685210
Thank you very much! This is one chapter I've been a little nervous about. Glad you enjoyed it. And, once again, thanks for they typo patrol!

EDIT: Typo Patrol'ed myself. D'oh

[brokenimage321]

8685358
Hehe... I just pulled a sample problem off the internet. Sounds good to me!

[ValNitak Choas]

8685399
that is good, I do hope it twilight velvet, and maybe cadence who talk some sense into her

[FanOfMostEverything]

Celestia is having one hell of a cutie mark crisis. As she noted from the day she got it, that sun isn't telling her anything she didn't already know. She has to find her path without her butt tattoo's guidance, a task no pony is prepared for. And the living fossil cutting her off from all means of emotional support isn't doing her any favors. I truly do hope Luna was lurking unseen as Celestia poured her heart out. She needs to see that there's more to this girl than just willfullness.

That said, lovely historical world building. Really helps drive home how this Equestria hasn't had the stability that comes from a single perpetual god-queen.

[LucidDreamer]

8685399
I now can't wait for Luna's redemption.

[Crack-Fic Casey]

She won't let me keep parchment and quills in my room anymore.

THERE IS A LINE.

[ValNitak Choas]

I think CiCi with have mental break down and goes crazy try to remove luna from everything permanently and right when the final blow going to happen twilight and her friend will stop her, or twilight will stop her and luna choose then to step down let twilight be in charge and act more as a old loving aunt who give advise and mentor for the cici and twilight

[Ice Star]

So much lovely lore in this chapter! It was very fitting for a nation caught up in such turmoil and just screamed how similar it was to old European royal families, such as the Tudors.

[Mystic Sunrise]

As much as Celestia has been spitting on her lineage, this chapter has me thinking Luna is being the bigger bitch out of the two. Maybe she should see the hall, and learn their history.

Compared to some of them, Celestia #17 is being a saint.

[Comickook]

I have to say this IS some darn good info on some of the previous princesses in this universe. And, yeah, Celly is definitely starting to show signs of going mad from being cut off from friendly faces AND from the pressure she's under. Hopefully, she and Luna WILL eventually find some common ground .

And, yeah, I will again, be very definitely looking forward to more of this.

[KittyrinnAiko]

Celestia is indeed a bit of a brat, but Luna is being a tyrant. Right about now my OC would just love to give your Luna a piece of her mind to feast upon.

[The Great Derpsby]

Now, Celestia, why do you expect your brother to try to make something of himself when all he has to look forward to, being a stallion, something completely out of his control, is at best to be portrayed as a literal shadow somewhere behind the grandiose princess?

[Slender_Pony]

This whole chapter hit me right in the feels

[queen nyra]

Until now Celestia's proven to be reckless and the prank in the last chapter was uncalled for, but Luna is way too much severe. You can't imply a darn thing about her past as NNM or you'll get grounded. Speaking of childish behavior. Celestia is a teenager after all and everypony expect her to follow the rules like a puppet. Luna might be the only one she could relate to -being a princess- but the only thing she does is commanding her around with the menace to "take" the peytral from her -I know she just can't, but still is a threat-. Beautiful and emotional chapter anyways, I love this story.

[Lurks-no-More]

Loved that list of previous Princesses, and their deeds and places in the line!

I think I already see what's going to be Cease's grand purpose as the Princess...

[StubobNumbers]

8687289
This is a good point.

[Sylica telca]

Oh noooo