The story of Equestria before Celestia began her reign.
This is an imagined history of Equestria-- or perhaps it's more like a creation myth. The distinction is fuzzy when your ruler is a god-empress. Call it what you like, this story considers what the world would have been like before unicorns moved the sun and moon. It's about the existence of Celestia, her relationship to Luna, and the beginning of their rule. It's also about getting close to others, and overcoming our deepest natures. Hope you enjoy.
Before the sun was tamed, it was a roiling ball of fire and death.
In those days, so it is told, one did not know when the day would be hot or cold, when the sun would shine bright or when it would be hidden behind clouds, when it was safe to travel or when simply walking outside beneath the harsh view of the sun would cook you alive. In those days, the three tribes of ponies rarely interacted with one another, but each sought their own method to tame the sun and create stability. The earth ponies made offerings to their Sun God, and the pegasi flew as high as they could, nearly high enough to touch it. The unicorns, too, tried to handle it with their magic, but it was simply too much to consider. All three tribes failed, and it was believed in those days that the sun would remain as it always was: distant, deadly, and unpredictable.
But it was also said, in disbelieving whispers, that there was a place where there might be hope. Far away, beyond the seas and mountains, was a place without the scorching blight of the sun, where ponies might live without fear. If a pony could just find that place, they could lead the rest of ponykind there, and so bring safety to all. But of course, these were laughed off as the pointless fantasies of the idealistic. To reach this far-off utopia, one would need to first travel over miles of open grassland, then cross the endless ocean, and then climb to the top of the highest mountain. Surely this was an impossible feat, far beyond the strength of any pony.
There was one pony who believed, however. Her true name has been lost over millennia, but in the stories, she is called Northern Bound. The stories say her entire family died beneath the sun's gaze, or perhaps they say she had no family, that she was born from the mist and clay. In most stories, she is a unicorn, but even that is unknown for certain. Whatever the case, she had nothing keeping her where she was, so she packed what few things she had and left.
Out on the grasslands, she would simply walk. If the shadows began to shrink, and the temperature began to soar, she would hunker down beneath a leafy tree and her wide-brimmed hat and wait for her chance again. When she reached the endless ocean, she pulled out a large branch from her pack and used it to help keep herself afloat. She paddled across the water, burning hot above the surface and shivering cold beneath it, but she continued without hesitation. At the distant mountains, she cinched her saddlebags tighter, donned a scarf, and climbed with a steady hoof. It really did require nothing more than the belief in the quest and the persistence to see it accomplished.
When at last she reached the top of the highest mountain, she saw what was hidden: a staircase, reaching all the way up into the sky. Each step looked transparent, matterless, as though you would fall through immediately, but when Northern Bound placed one hoof on the first step, it held firm, as if by magic. So she climbed, but with each step higher, she felt a growing dread. Was this their new home? Could ponies live here? Had this all been a waste of time?
She reached the top step, and the canopy of space spread infinitely before her. There seemed to be no path, so she wandered aimlessly. After a few short minutes, she came upon a figure in the shape of a pony. She hailed the figure, but when it turned to look at her, she recoiled in shock.
The figure looked like a pony, but only in shape. Its coat was a perfect, glittering white, impossible for one of her kind. Its mane radiated out as waves of fire, and its tail flickered and danced like a candle flame. Its wings were larger than any pegasus wings she'd seen before, and its horn jutted out like a massive tower. Its eyes lacked pupil, iris, or sclera; they were instead all red and orange, glowing faintly from the inside by some unseen force. Its face lacked a mouth, nostrils, ears, anything sensory or creating a personality. In an instant, Northern Bound knew that this was the sun, in some purer form.
Despite its flat, featureless appearance, Northern Bound found the sun utterly beautiful. There was something quintessential about it, as though the sun were what ponies like her should look like, were they perfect in every way. So she did the only thing she could think of: she fell to her knees and scraped low to the ground. The sun did not respond, so after a short while, she stood once more and thought of what she might say.
Perhaps the thoughts of her dead family came to her; or perhaps she saw the plight of her fellow pony, and she desired an answer. So her first question was, "Yos zaya buona?" "Are you good?"
The sun did not reply. Did that mean yes or no? But the sun did not cause suffering because it was evil; it simply did not care whether ponies survived or not. It also helped trees to grow and kept the world warm; did that then make it good? But it did not desire that, either; it simply irradiated heat, and the world did with that what it could. So Northern Bound could not determine the answer to the question.
She next asked, "Yos zaya cavala?" "Are you a pony?"
But this question, too, troubled Northern Bound. This being before her certainly looked pony, could probably act pony and pretend... but would it ever be pony, at its deepest nature? It would always be the sun, a distant, powerful source of heat and light, which brought life in one hoof and death in another. Was appearance enough, or was the nature of things more important? So Northern Bound again could not determine the answer to the question.
In all this, the sun barely moved, made no sound. Northern Bound could not tell for certain if the sun could even understand her speech. Despite standing so close, she felt an impossibly great distance between them, like the distance between the surface of the ground and the highest point in the sky. She saw the sun for what it truly was: an idea, far away and high above, beautiful in its conception and eternally remote.
She spoke to the sun a third time, but this time, as a statement, not a question: "Yos zaya celestia." "You are heavenly."
Whether it was due to the change in tone, or whether the sun recognized something in Northern Bound's speech, we do not know, but so the stories go, when Northern Bound spoke a third time, the sun tipped its head to one side. It was the first thing the sun had done that truly felt pony, even though its meaning was still inscrutable. At the very least, it suggested that the sun was listening to what Northern Bound had said, that it was trying to understand. This changed everything. If the sun responded like that, perhaps it did have the mind of a pony after all. And if it had that... perhaps it could be good, too.
Northern Bound turned back the way she had come and made to leave. As her hoof touched the topmost step of the staircase, a voice stopped her. "Celestia."
The sun had spoken, despite no mouth; it spoke with a warm, soft tone, like a mother sheltering her children--a voice distinctly feminine. Northern Bound turned back to look at the sun, but it did not seem to have moved from its original spot, its head still tipped to one side. Northern Bound smiled. "Yes. Yos zaya celestia."
The sun returned its head to normal, then nodded slowly. "Yes."
At that moment, Northern Bound felt a sudden dizziness. She felt faint, as though all the blood had rushed from her head. She collapsed into darkness; when she woke up, she was back in her cave, with the other unicorns. They interrogated her about what she had seen, whether she had tamed the sun and made the outside world safe to live in, but she couldn't say for sure. But she felt that the description she had given it, just one word, had bound its nature. Words are names, and they have great power. The sun was a roiling ball of fire and death, but "Celestia," the Heavenly One... could perhaps be more.
In the days that followed, the sun was still hot, the day still heavy and oppressive. But the heat no longer soared to deadly levels, and ponies could live and work in the fields without fear. The sun was still powerful, but it was a constant power, a stable power. Through its name, the sun had been tamed... at least a little.
Before the sun was tamed, she was a distant flame, high above the world.
In those days, the sun did not move from its place at the top of the sky. It ruled relentlessly, without rest, and the ponies below did what they could to soften its blow. The unicorns gathered berries and roots from nearby plants, and the pegasi flew across the world to look for things to eat. The earth ponies, however, considered a very different course of action. They attempted to cultivate the grasses around them to produce a plant that would generate food every day, year by year, for them. It was ambitious, but the sun's heat made it near-impossible. Just when the wheat had reached its highest point, it began to wither, fruitless. They were a proud people, reluctant to admit failure, but after what seemed a thousand dead crops, they implored Northern Bound to meet with the sun once more and convince her to do something to give the wheat a chance to grow.
She began her trek once more to cross the grasslands and ocean and mountains, but after the first day, the path widened out into a clearing, and Celestia was standing there to meet her. She stood tall and sturdy, in a way that seemed impossible to divine emotion or intent. She spoke again, with that mouthless voice, saying, "Are you traveling to see me once again?"
"Yes," said Northern Bound. "My people are struggling, and we need your assistance."
Celestia did not reply, so Northern Bound continued. "You give great light to all of us, and you keep the world warm, but at the same time, your heat is too strong for the grass we eat. The earth ponies want to create living plants to sustain them, but their crops die before they can eat a morsel of it. I pray beseechingly that you create a cycle of waking and rest, so that the plants might have moments of heat and moments of cool, that they may live."
And Celestia said, "Of what concern is that to me?"
Northern Bound recalled what she had considered before, and despaired. "You are a distant, unfeeling god, but surely you can see from your place in the firmament what we could become. Were the earth ponies successful, ponykind could expand across the face of the planet, growing numerous and wondrous in their power. Surely you could see how this would be a great good for us!"
But Celestia replied, "I do not care about ponykind. Whether they are successful or die out utterly matters not one whit to me."
"Do you desire sacrifice?" asked Northern Bound. "If we grew as a nation, we could make more precious offerings to you, Celestia. Good food, complex tools, pieces of art, whatever you wished."
"I desire nothing. I do not hunger, and I have no use for tools or works of art."
"Will you deny me this?" Northern Bound cried. "I have nothing to offer you but my appreciation! Will you not do it as a personal gift to me?"
Celestia looked at Northern Bound for a moment, or so it seemed. But again she said, "I do not care about you. I recognize your coming, but in comparison to me, you are nothing."
Northern Bound sagged, defeated. What would convince a being that needed nothing to sustain itself, that had no bonds with others, and that could not be inflamed with emotion or passion? She wondered what it was like, to be such a thing as Celestia. "Is it difficult, to carry such a burden? Have you ever known rest?"
And Celestia said, "I have not. I am a constant burning, and I must be strong."
Northern Bound replied, "Rest is important to ponies. It is a relief, and it brings strength for the coming day. Perhaps rest is something you would enjoy as well?"
Celestia tipped her head to one side. Then, her horn lit up, and the image of the sun above them gradually lowered. For the first time, Northern Bound knew darkness while outside; for the first time, Northern Bound knew the night.
"This is... this is good!" Celestia said. Her bright, burning eyes seemed to sparkle with joy. "I enjoy this."
"Perhaps you are more pony than I first conceived," said Northern Bound.
"Perhaps I am," Celestia answered. But she turned away and began to walk out into the distance.
Northern Bound made to call out to her, but suddenly, a stone tablet appeared in front of her. "Use this magic when you have need of night or day," said Celestia, "and I will move according to your purpose. It will require a dozen of your kind, and it will be hard work. But if this is what you require for the benefit of your people, then I imagine the sacrifice will be worth it."
Celestia paused, unmoving. Then she said, more quietly this time, "This conversation... I also enjoyed it. Should you ever have need of it... or should you simply desire it... walk out into the grass again, and I will meet with you."
And Northern Bound smiled, and said, "Thank you, Celestia, from the bottom of my heart. I will remember that."
With the empty black sky above her, Northern Bound returned home. The ponies there were terrified that the sun had vanished from sight, but Northern Bound explained what the sun had promised them. After a while, the unicorns decided to raise the sun again, and twelve of them worked the magic Celestia had given them. True to her word, the sun rose calmly back into its place, and it sank again when they cast it in the evening. To maintain a pattern, and to honor the twelve unicorns who would sacrifice their magic to raise and lower the sun and moon, it was decided that there would be twelve hours of day and twelve hours of night. Thus was the cycle of daylight first constructed.
Though, so the stories say, there was an odd case. No matter how many times Northern Bound participated in the ritual, she never flagged or lost her power. And, so they say, the day was brightest and most beautiful on those days when she raised it, and the night darkest and most dismal on the days when she lowered it.
In this way, through the spell to create rest, the sun was tamed... at least a little more.
Before the sun was tamed, she was the light of the world.
In those days, the sun rose and fell, guided by the magic of unicorns. But the night was chill, and dark, and terrifying without light. So the stories go, it was in that total darkness that the creatures of myth and terror were first born. And there was no escaping them in sleep, either, for the dreams of ponies in those days were haunted by the same ghastly images as stalked them in the darkness of the real world. Terror in waking, terror in sleeping... the nighttime was a time of stress and pain for all.
Some argued that the night should be shortened and the day lengthened, but this had its own host of problems. The pegasi were constructing their first attempts at weather patterns, but they insisted that if the night were shortened for one month, it would need to be lengthened in another. The first experiment with this is what created the first summer, autumn, winter, and spring--for when the days were long, the world heated up, and when the nights were long, the world froze over. At that point, the ponies simply accepted it, and wrapped up each season in its turn. But still the nightmares appeared, in summer nights and winter: in summer, dreams of vultures picking the bones off desiccated husks; in winter, dreams of fur-covered hulking abominations, invisible in the blizzards and mist.
Northern Bound regularly spoke with Celestia, who could offer no advice. "When I rest," she said, "I cede the world to darkness. I cannot interfere when I am not available. I am sorry."
"Can you not appoint some sort of guardian to watch over the night? Is that beyond your power?"
"If it is, I know not," said Celestia. "I am not omniscient, Northern Bound."
Throughout the years, Celestia had grown closer to Northern Bound. True to her word, they had held multiple conversations, some of importance like this one, while others were simply to pass the time. Celestia had learned Northern Bound's name, and she continued to act more and more caring of her, more and more pony. She began to develop a personality: she was a wise, charming mare, with a knack for jokes and humor and a matronly desire to protect what she now perceived as "her ponies." Though she refused to speak to any pony but Northern Bound, which she could not understand.
So the years passed. The culture of ponies grew, and Northern Bound watched it all, and grew older. While ponykind flourished, Northern Bound was left alone. She was the old wise mare, keeper of ancient memories, and the direct line to Celestia, but even these soon left her in obsolescence. Her bones grew brittle, her mind less sharp, and her eyes cloudy and lightless. One day, late in the evening, she hobbled out into the grasslands, away from her hometown, to speak with Celestia one last time.
Northern Bound never returned from her visit, so the stories can only guess what happened. They all agree on this: she went to Celestia, to ask again for a guardian to protect the night from monsters and bad dreams. Celestia again explained that she did not have the power. Northern Bound accepted this, and they talked for a while. Celestia noticed Northern Bound's infirmity, and asked, "What is the matter?"
"I am dying," she said simply. "It is the ultimate truth of all ponies."
Celestia had never seen death, or at the very least, she had never understood it. A pony fell down on the plains, or walked into a cave and never walked back out. And then... what? Another pony with a close appearance to them took their place, and another after that, their appearance changing slowly generation after generation. In all her time, Celestia had watched thousands upon thousands of ponies, but she had never bonded with any one pony before.
She had never been tamed... not like this. And she suddenly understood that, should Northern Bound die, their conversations would end for good.
So here the stories diverge. In the vast majority of the tellings, they say their last goodbyes, and Northern Bound dies there, under Celestia's watch. Celestia weeps, and her tears turn into the stars. And where Northern Ground's body lay, that spot becomes sacred ground, which Celestia transfers to the sky. A circle, with the black mark of Northern Ground's body in the shape of the Mare in the Moon. So goes one version.
In another, popular with the unicorns, Celestia refuses to let Northern Bound die. They continue their conversation forever, even as her body withers and fades into spirit, and as her soul rises up to Heaven, it transforms into the Moon. And thus, so these tellers say, during late nights in Canterlot, you can hear Celestia continuing their eternal conversation, comforting Northern Bound in her final rest.
But there are a rare few who tell it thus. Celestia watched as Northern Bound struggled to draw breath, as her heart slowed and her life gave out. And in that moment, she felt a great power rise within her, of love and friendship and care, the purest form of magic of all. With that magic, she held Northern Bound tightly in her hooves, and Northern Bound's body began to change. Her eyes went from cloudy white to deep silver; her limbs grew strong and tall; her mind rejuvenated to its former brilliance. And in this way, Celestia did appoint a guardian over the night; but more than that, she found true companionship in a sister, Luna, to stand by her side forever and always, to share eternity together.
Or so they tell it, anyway. Where these storytellers find any evidence that Celestia ever had a sister, I do not know. But that's the thing about stories, isn't it? The truth of the matter has been lost forever to the sands of time. We have only the fragments of these stories to give us insight into the past. Perhaps it happened like none of these; perhaps the truth is somewhere in the middle.
Whatever the case, in this way, as Celestia beheld death for the first time, and the moon was created to stand watch over night, the sun was tamed... at least a bit more.
When this last story was told to me as a child, it included Luna, Celestia's supposed sister. Permit me to tell it that way as well; the versions that do not include Luna are mostly similar in any case.
Before the sun was tamed, she was the lost deity of ponykind.
After the death of Northern Bound, the name "Celestia" slipped bit by bit from the memories of those who knew Northern Bound. No other pony but her had spoken to Celestia, after all, and she had never been the most involved of spirits. Her only legacy was the sun and moon and the spell to raise and lower them. So in time, she became nothing more than the sun again, an image in the sky that the unicorns bandied about however they wished. Ponykind simply continued their old beliefs, nevermind the truth that had once been known about the sun.
Did Celestia care? It's hard to say. On one hoof, she had Luna with her to keep her company. And she certainly seemed content to let her name pass into obscurity. One can only imagine what might have happened had she, say, stoked the flames of a cult in her image. Instead, she allowed herself to be nothing more than the sun.
But on the other hoof, she must have kept that light deep in her heart. As a partially tamed creature, she had become tied inexorably to ponykind; she could no more pretend otherwise than to pretend that she was not the sun. To taste something good, and then to know that it is available at any moment, is a constant temptation. And Luna! Sweet Luna. As the new goddess of the moon, she deserved to achieve the same bond with ponykind that Celestia had once established. So surely Celestia must have wanted to maintain and strengthen her connection with ponykind, even though she did not. The reasons why she chose to bide her time are unknown. Ask her yourself, and see if she will answer.
As to the reason why she returned when she did, that is obvious. The ponies began to bicker, and their home grew covered in snow and ice, and she feared that if she did not act, she would lose them forever.
This story is well-known to any colt or filly having lived more than one winter. But O listener, imagine yourself in those days, when you did not know what was going to occur, and consider how you might have felt, believing that it might have been the end of days. In that moment, Celestia recalled her love of ponykind, and she began to appear in dreams, begging those she visited to overcome their prejudice and live in harmony. (My mother always said that this, the ability to appear in dreams, was a sure sign that Luna had existed. But I retain some doubt; for if Luna could walk in dreams, surely Celestia could as well. But for the sake of the story, I will set my skepticism aside for the present.) Most ponies, one would think, upon meeting an ancient sun goddess would surely change their behavior to avoid catastrophe. But the ponies in that time were nothing if not bull-headed; if anything, their hatred grew even worse. Celestia despaired, because she saw the ponies she loved dying again before her very eyes.
And then the magic of friendship saved them, and Celestia realized she had so much more to learn.
She had known friendship, but briefly. She had her sister. But she needed to join ponykind in the full beauty of connectedness, which she could not do as she was. She discussed it with her sister, who agreed. It was time for them to be gods no longer.
They searched for many years for the perfect family; there were many good stallions and mares they could have chosen. But in the end, they found Star Swirl the Bearded and his wife, Lady Astra, who was past the age of motherhood but had not borne any children. The two introduced themselves and explained their desires. In order to learn the magic of friendship, they needed to become ponies, just like any other. They wanted to be born, grow up as fillies, discover their talents, and become capable, dependable mares. They thought that this might be a hard sell, but to their shock, Star Swirl and Astra accepted through teary eyes. That morning, when they woke up, Astra found herself with child. After a single day and a single night, she went into labor, and through a quick, painless birth came twins into this world--Celestia first, then Luna.
Here the stories diverge one last time. In some of the stories, the princess or princesses are born alicorns; in others, they are born unicorns, and they only earn their wings once they have discovered their talents. In some of the stories, they are immediately crowned princesses; in others, Star Swirl hides them from the world until much later; in still others, they live perfectly ordinary lives as fillies. In any case, we know how all the stories end. The nation rallies behind Celestia, Luna disappears (a story for another time), and the world is safe under one thousand years of peace.