Thirty-Minute Pony Stories

by Silvernis

234: The Morning After

234: THE MORNING AFTER

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I took an unusually long time with my tea that morning, lingering a solid half-hour beyond what was normally scheduled. At first, I wanted to just keep lingering. The longer I stayed at the table, sipping at tea that had gone tepid and tasteless, the longer I could avoid dealing with the rest of the world. I could already hear Quill and Keeper pacing in the hallway outside my chambers, doubtless fretting—quietly, of course; they wouldn’t dream of disturbing their princess’s teatime—about disrupted timetables. A vicious, wounded part of me wanted to scream at them to go away and forget their damned schedules and grieve as I was grieving.

I didn’t, of course.

After a while, though, I realized I simply couldn’t stay any longer. I normally relished my teatime—or, more accurately, the welcome peace and quiet the tea brought me for half-an-hour every morning. On that morning, however, it was . . . too quiet. Too peaceful. There was nothing to distract me from the horrors of the night before, nothing to push those terrible, terrible images from my mind. I stared into the teacup and saw only the Nightmare, a cruel, twisted mockery of my little sister, the sister I’d so carelessly taken for granted and ignored. I wanted to scream and hurl the teacup away, as if I could smash the memories and somehow make everything all right.

I didn’t, of course. I couldn’t.

I needed to do something, though. I couldn’t sit there with naught but my tortured thoughts to occupy me. I dumped the tea from my cup back into the not-quite-empty pot, then rose and walked to the doors. I paused a moment to straighten my regalia and hoist the usual serene smile to my face—I had to at least look like the calm, cool, and collected princess everypony would desperately want to see—then pushed open the doors with my magic.

Quill, Keeper, and the veritable platoon of guards stationed outside all instantly jumped to attention.

“Good morning,” I said, making sure to beam the smile around at all of them.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” chorused everypony.

“What have we on the agenda for today?” I asked as I started down the corridor. Quill and Keeper fell in on either side of me as usual, their horns glowing as they shuffled through scrolls and stacks of parchment.

“Your Highness,” said Quill, “we’ve gotten demands—well, polite but very insistent requests for meetings from, well, more or less every ambassador currently in Canterlot. They’re all, um, concerned about last night’s events, and how the, uh, current situation will affect Equestria and our diplomatic relations.”

I marginalized my sister, drove her mad with jealousy, sent her to the moon, killed her rampaging lover, and would be running the bloody country by my bloody self just like I’d been doing for years, only this time without Luna watching angrily from the sidelines. What more did they bloody want to know?

“Perfectly understandable,” I said calmly. “Arrange meetings with each of them, please.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Also, I will need to address the city at large regarding the situation.”

“We’ve tentatively scheduled a speech for noon today, Your Highness.”

“Very good.”

“Um, Your Highness?” said Keeper. “Before that, there’s . . . an internal matter I was hoping you could attend to.”

“Regarding what?”

“Steward Solemn requested a meeting at your earliest convenience.”

“Very well,” I said. “I will see him as soon as I have finished with the ambassadors.”

Keeper coughed uncomfortably. “He’s, uh, waiting in the west hall, Your Highness. Right now.”

The west hall was the entryway to the west wing—or, as the staff called it, the Lunar Wing.

I slowed for just a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I will see him immediately.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Keeper quietly.

We turned down another corridor, then another, and finally reached the west hall. On the far side was a set of large doors, each emblazoned with a crescent moon.

Solemn, the castle steward, trotted forward to meet me, followed by—

I blinked. There had to be two-score ponies assembled behind him. Judging from their smocks and aprons, they were all castle staff. Lowly, almost invisible, but crucially important nonetheless.

“Your Highness,” said Solemn, bowing low, “thank you for coming. I hate to trouble you with this, but . . . what do you wish us to do with your—with Princess Luna’s rooms?”

It was a perfectly logical question. Luna’s wing was extensive; keeping her audience chamber, library, study, and personal chambers clean and in good repair kept more than a few ponies busy fulltime. Now that Luna was gone, though . . . would it matter anymore? Realistically, the staff would just be wasting their time. The wing would be empty and lifeless.

I had made sure of that.

For a fleeting instant, I felt my fury and self-loathing boil across my face, and from the way every pony in the room took an involuntary step back, I knew they’d all seen it.

“There will be no changes,” I said. “Continue your work as normal. Please.”

Solemn looked a bit shaken, but he nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.”

I nodded back, then said, very quietly, more to myself than the steward, “She’ll be back someday, I promise you.”

Comments

[PresentPerfect]

Nicely done.

[Super Trampoline]

Nice