For Those Who Once Carried the Sun

by shortskirtsandexplosions

A Good Thing

She stands upon the edge of the gazebo.

She's beautiful.

An endless ripple alights her majestic purple mane.

Her poise is regal; the gold of her ensemble matches such splendor.

Everypony in town is staring at her.

Including you. Standing along the outer fringes of the crowd. Just beyond the shadow of the Royal Airship floating above—moored to the topmost building of the village.

Armored guards circle on the wing. Scouring. Searching the courtyard encircling the gazebo. As her eyes do.

But they find nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing.

So she paces. And her tail flicks. And her breath comes and goes in anxious little spurts. There's a face twisted with worry and anxiousness. It's so familiar. That young, young face. The visage of a faithful student planted in the steady center of so much change.

She's not alone. You're thankful for that, until you gaze upon her companion once more: tall and handsome. Square-built and muscular. Purple scales and green spines. It amuses and hurts you to know that he's barely past his adolescence—a drop in the bucket of time. And—yet—so much of it. So much given, taken, wasted. Just to arrive at this.

She paces and paces. There's a rising murmur amongst the crowd—these simple villagers who didn't expect such a fabulous occasion. She senses their nervousness. Of course she does. The very first thing you taught her was empathy.

Who's left that can teach you?

With a wave of her hoof, she motions to the guards. They see her stern gaze, and the armored soldiers slow their flight—lowering towards the streets and storefronts and walkways. Far off—towards the side of the central courtyard—you see a blue-feathered griffon speaking closely with the town mayor and her fellow constituents. He holds his helmet in the crook of his forelimb and smiles placatingly to the elders. He's young, handsome, and there's a familiarity to his avian profile. You knew his name once.

You knew everyone's name at one point or another.

Time passes.

The crowd doesn't dispel—but they don't clear out either.

Growing more at ease, the tense murmurs morph into breathy chuckles. A round of gossip rolls through the villagers.

Maybe the Princess is here to plan a new expansion to her Friendship Schools.

Maybe she's here to scout out a vacation spot.

Maybe Her Royal Majesty is needing a partner to dance with her at the next Grand Galloping Gala, and she's looking for potential suitors.

Or maybe...

Just maybe...

...it's all just a waste of time.

Another hour.

The shadows shift.

She tilts her gaze heavenward—those violet eyes narrowing. Studying.

Look.

Look at her.

At the ease with which she performs the spell.

Her horn doesn't even have to glow.

It's barely been two mortal lifetimes. Perhaps three. And yet—it doesn't hurt her to look at it.

How long did it take you to avoid going blind?

How many weeks, months, years, decades—of almost plunging Equestria into darkness. Nearly evaporating the oceans. Nearly throwing the entire hemisphere into an earlier winter. Summer. Drought.

Just one century. One lonely century. And there hasn't been a single famine.

She's beautiful.

Even as her ears droop.

And your heart drops.

And the shadows shift some more.

So you shift some more. Deeper into the treeline. Closer to the crook of age-old cottages and storefronts leaning in from the tug of gravity and the drooping of age.

The crowd has begun dispersing.

The Princess isn't nearly as exciting and riveting as they expected.

They know nothing; she's not there for them.

But, then again, she's not there for anypony.

Not today.

Not now.

Another hour lurches by. The day—darkening. Why do you bother to measure it anymore?

Why did you even come here?

It hurt your limbs to cross the distance from the woods to the heart of this village.

Just as it hurt you to crawl out of bed the moment that you saw the green flash.

And your nose smelled the sulfuric cloud.

And you saw the letter landing in the middle of the cabin... a few ironic feet from where the rest lay in a pile. Creased. Molded. Stained yellow with age.

But for some reason, you opened that one.

The same letter that rests in the inner pocket of your cloak, burning your unbrushed coat with her words. Kind words. Faithful and flattering words. The most searing syntax of all.

The mentor she's looking for isn't here.

She hasn't been for a long time.

You've hidden her deep inside. Obscured her with shadow. Layered over her with dust, shrouds, and—yes—fat. There was a spell you had—a spell that would maintain yourself so long as you maintained it.

How long ago did you give up on that? At least a lifetime before Luna gave up on trying to motivate you back into salvaging a modicum of grace, dignity, and respect. Where is your sister now? It's your own fault for not knowing. Her letters form a pile on the opposite side of the cabin.

And here is where you've suddenly decided to pile up. Shrinking, withering, wincing away from the same light that you once espoused. Funny how an impulsive stab at “retirement” could so easily melt you down to the barest core of curled-up banalities. You left at the right time—when she still had faith in you. When she had to lean up to hug you.

How awfully smaller and truer you are now: a crumpled waif of a pony, the detritus of eons of royal hedonism collected together like silt from the end of a dead tributary. Huddled and lopsided, stooping below the heads of the “neighbors” all around you—strangers whom you've kept further distant through squinting glares and wooden shutters. You're nothing more than a pile of regretful thoughts with scarcely the strength to lean upright.

And you deserve it.

You deserve this.

You once shone across continents. You swayed agriculture. Religions were birthed and murdered by your very own light. Wars were fought, won, and memorialized—all at dawn. Your dawn.

And now...

...you can't even last until sunset before giving in to your very own brand of darkness. Was this the freedom that you sought? Was this the “retirement” that you expected to enthrall you? To reinvigorate you?

A spark without the risk of being burnt is no light worth enjoying. Face the truth. You have gained nothing. You simply gave up something that you lost a love for. You and your scrumptious, tempting cowardice. What a poor cost for a self-righteous sacrifice. In the end, you gave up the thrill of risk for the contentedness of safe, dependable, eternal monotony.

So, yes.

You deserve this.

And you forever will.

But her?

She won't.

She mustn't taste of it.

And maybe that's something you should take pride in. Just as you secretly take pride in the rising pile of Luna's unanswered letters as well.

Your student never got to see you take that leap. She wasn't there for when you stopped maintaining the spell and turned into this gross shadow of what she once admired. For her, the dream is still alive.

As it once was for you.

So then...

...why are you here?

Why now—as her sun sets and yours dies again in the hollows of your heart?

Maybe it's because—no matter how long you know that this sacred silence should last—part of you wants to see her...

And warn her...

...that even a soul powerful enough, strong enough, and wise enough to raise and lower the sun will someday suffer that same light burning out.

And while you can't stop that from happening any more than she can avoid it...

...you still wish you could lessen the sting.

But.

But you stay right there.

Because ghosts must remain ghosts, and some stings are worse than others.

Like the sting you're feeling right now. Right here. Here on the cusp of a gorgeous mistake that could have been.

The day has died.

The shadows have collected, covering her as much as they have long covered you. She stands beneath the gazebo, no longer pacing, no longer searching, no longer hoping.

She came as she wrote she would.

You came as nopony wrote you would.

And those shadows remained an abyss—not a bridge.

And this is a good thing.

This is a good thing.

The guards are grounded now. Barely awake. They look at each other with a nervous stirring.

Her companion sees it. He reads the air, the night, the stars peeking through the malaise of the moment. He raises a claw and rests it gently on her withers.

“Come on, Twilight,” he says. “Maybe next time.”

She sighs. Her breath is full of sadness. You miss that feeling as much as you miss her.

“You're right, Spike.” A faint smile—the most burning thing of all. “Come on, my little ponies.” Like a mother to her children, and she motions the guards to take flight with her to the airship just as it is being cast off—set for Canterlot several provinces away. “Next time. I'm sure of it.”

That's a lie.

And you know it.

She doesn't know it.

Maybe...

Hopefully...

...you'll no longer be around by the time she does.

“And that is also a good thing,” you wheeze to the trees around you.

You've left town under the lazy gaze of stars. Soon, your cabin appears like a headstone through the overgrown grass. You step inside, drop the envelope into its respective bed of regrets, and then retire back to your own.

“A good thing,” you murmur. You plead, you beg, but no tears. “A good thing.”

You chase it. Drifting sigh after sigh into that dusty darkness. Expecting to grab ahold by the dawn.

But you know it.

Comments

[PoniesMine]

This was quite symbolic, it's rare to find stories of this magnetism. I enjoyed it.

[Skeeter The Lurker]

...ouch.

She should realize she's allowed some happiness as well.

~Skeeter The Lurker

[SparklingVynegar]

It is a unique and dangerous pain when one's purpose in life has truly been snuffed out.

Is it truly so hard, Celestia, to find happiness in eternity? Is time that heavy a burden. I wonder how many times you've learned to live life in the moment. I wonder how many times you've re-learned it. How many times you've forgotten to allow yourself to be happy. How often you forget you even can.

You've done far more than enough, Celestia. You can pass in peace and happiness. Perhaps you just need to allow yourself to do so.

[Cerulean Blue]

I certainly could see that happening. Celestia ruled for a 1000 years by her own, after having banished her sister.

Good story.

[Twi-Fi]

This is poetry, Skirts.

[Vic Fontaine]

Daaammmnnnn.

Well done.

[True Edge]

Damn, Skirts. Just . . . Damn.

[Scampy]

Decay claims everyone and everything eventually. And yet, entropy can never erase or undo how brightly she once shined.

[berrytone]

Saddest part is that it's not marked "Alternate universe"

[Coronet the lesser]

This was really something truly haunting. What happens when someone decays into old age both mentally and physically. Extraordinarily poignant. Well done.

[DreadedCandiru2]

Roger Daltrey said it best: "Hope I die before I get old."

[ponygrad]

I prefer the what the leaked synopsis had for the Celestia/Luna vacation episode
Basically the sisters and discord realized their powers were going and their time in this realm was nearing its end. Not just "lets go live in a retirement home lol"

[Ganondorf8]

Wow... Just... just wow. This was such a powerful story that it gripped my heart very strongly.

[Third Wheel]

9893421
Why does everyone mix up Silver Shoals and Silver Stable?

[Violetta Strings]

Dammit so many stories where Celly and Luna just die

[nioniosbbbb]

Well this was depressing. But as well as it might have been written I'm no fan of "eternity is sad" fics.

There's waaaaaay too many of them and they're going back in fashion now that the show has ended. And that's not something I like.

[B_Munro]

Ouch. Finishing what the show runners have been doing since the end of season two, eh?
Does she actually want to know what happened to Celestia? She's the goddamn Twilight Sparkle, after all. If she really wants to find Celestia, she can't hide.
Just how long do Gryphons live, anyway?

[Merula]

Even that which may be considered eternal may be withered and worn down over time....

[nothingtoseehere]

The crowd doesn't dispel—but they don't clear out either.

Dispel and clear out mean roughly the same thing, except that 'dispel' is almost always a positive action (something actively dispels or is dispelled by something else) while 'clear out' can also be a more passive action (the crowd lost interest and cleared out).

[WanderingPony]

The Cabin at The End holds all kinds of Background Ponies.

Princesses and pale blue unicorns alike, when they are to be forgotten.

[Massermane]

It is poignant, and it accomplished the goal of being disheartening, but strangely I would never imagine Celestia to be like this.
I've met very old people, 90+ years and still kicking, but to make it through the 100 year mark and still have your faculties and will to live? It takes an integrity and a contentedness with your existence that I feel Celestia will have long ago attained. I don't see Celestia falling decrepit after simply losing her youth. (Unless she develops dementia, but even dementia sufferers can be remarkably youthful and kind) As always, it's written well, I just believe Celestia would be far too strong to reach this point of emotional decay.

[Lightwavers]

This story is well written. Objectively, it’s quite good.

But I hate it.

Oh, there are all the minor nitpicks I could make. Celestia’s lived this long, she has connections, and she’s experienced abandoning and making and remaking them over and over again. She isn’t likely to fall over and die when she’s off the throne. The only thing stronger than apathy is habit, and her hooves have walked the path of the sun for so long that simply decaying is just wrong.

Because she’s been through worse, you see. Discord lived for an era. Anything a pony built would twist into something beautifully useless, or turn on its creator. No one was safe and the only constant was Luna, who was always just a bit off in her own way. But she kept going. And then Discord was gone and Celestia and Luna ruled for some time, until Luna’s neurosis grew and grew and Celestia was left alone. And she still kept going. She’s been stuck in a castle surrounded with work for years and years, likely longing for the day where she can drop the facade and just do things. But she can’t, because she has her ponies to care for, and if she just up and left for a week there might be nothing left when she gets back. So she is always looking, always tutoring, always hoping for a replacement. Luna’s her sister, but she has her problems. The moon needs an anchor, another immortal. She isn’t a naturally happy pony, you see, and there’s no one other than a Princess who can bring her out of her moods when her mind grows dark and shadowed and any mortal who approaches always regrets it. So Celestia always searches for a replacement, and she never finds one who can satisfy the requirements, and she grows older, her well-tread path of habit gets deeper and deeper, and she always keeps going. And now she’s found someone who can do the job, and so she ... stops?

She could explore the seas, finally live within another nation, build that palace on the moon she was always thinking about as a surprise for Luna, investigate the secrets of the mirror pool or the Everfree or the thousands of other unexplored mysteries in the world, things she could never do because she was too important and if there was the slightest bit of risk to her, it could cause a nation to fall.

Celestia was never emotionless, never one naturally disposed to long periods of depression. All around her ponies were doing that very thing, even her own sister, and it never lead to anything good. She’s always been the one to drag everyone kicking and screaming toward harmony, an implacable force that just keeps going.

This story’s characterization of her isn’t just bad in the sense that it’s the cliche “immortality bad” trope we’ve all seen before, the problem is that it’s so profoundly out of line of who she is that everything else just becomes silly. She’s been Luna’s rock, and now she won’t even read her letters? She doesn’t constantly worry about her slightly unhinged sister? Well, I suppose that makes sense if Luna just learned that all she had to do was stop being depressed! Wow, wiping away major aspects of who she is was easy! Let’s do Twilight. Worried about her mentor? Who cares about tracking spells, they could be easily thwarted by a withered husk of a pony whose wards would be like a stiff breeze before the alicorn of magic itself. Let’s not even try! Oh, she’s still receiving letters? Dragon fire is silly, why would the alicorn of magic want to learn where something it sends goes? Twilight’s shown relentless optimism over the course of her life? No problem, we’ll just wash away that disposition and make it so that Celestia thinks she’ll eventually become as apathetic as she is, despite her entire life beforehand being dedicated to finding a pupil who won’t just get bored of living and ruling.

Overall? Not worth reading.

[Late_Night]

well written, but utterly idiotic in premise
why would Celestia not want to see twilight? they've been repeatedly established to be friends, or even more?
and that's just the first of literal hundreds of problems
many of these problems radiate out from the central point of how you horribly misunderstood and mangled Celestia's personality

[IceKitsune]

Taking it at face value (which shouldn't always be done with Skirt's Stories) I think this is a good but flawed story. A few post have already pointed out the issues I have with it, namely it feels extremely odd that Celestia would let herself go like this so quickly. Gallus is still around so its during the flash forward (though perhaps its another griffon who looks similar?) However at most a few hundred years have past (assuming that isn't Gallus) I think some of the issues could be fixed if you maybe pushed up the time line a bit. Like state or even imply that its taking place several thousands of years later perhaps? Then it would be more believable that she let herself go like that.

[Another Nopony]

It's easy to get so caught up in the insane crack you've been producing in recent years that we forget you're still the author who gave the world Background Pony. And then you make something evocative and haunting like this and we remember.

[Keebroo]

9894887
Simply put, it's not a story about Celestia and Twilight.

[Isopod]

That was depressing and amazing. So well done. I don't think I've seen a 2nd person ever done so well.

[TheOneAJ]

[Dash of Evergreen]

To start, this story was amazing and horrifying all at once. It's a look into what can happen to even the brightest stars... If they give up, if they give into the eternal vastness of time, it can become the overwhelming truth that undoes you. I can see how Celestia could become this... gaunt shadow of what she once was. Imagine, for a moment, that you've ruled a nation for over a millenium. Seen millions come and go, loved and lost over and over again.... Just imagine the toll that would take on your sanity, your will, your sense of self. Even your sense of right and wrong. I love this story, and also hate it. Its an insight into the beauty, and the horror of eternity. It is beautiful, and abhorrent.

My dear shortskirtsandexplosions, you have created something amazing. Something powerful. Thank you.