All the world’s a stage and all the mares and stallions merely players. They have their exits and their entrances and one pony in her time plays many parts, her acts being seven ages.
'All the world’s a stage, And all the mares and stallions merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one pony in her time plays many parts, Her acts being seven ages.' ~ William Shakespony
In the aftermath of banishing her corrupted sister, Celestia is left to tend to a land ravaged by fear of their own rulers, political discontent, racial tensions between the three tribes and her own crushing loneliness. A thousand years is a long time to wait for the return of the pony she was closer to than anyone else in the world; long enough that she needs to make other connections with other ponies to prevent herself from going mad and following her sister into corruption. The question is, can one pony ever be strong enough to rule a land for a thousand years and be both a good ruler and a good pony?
Written as a Patreon reward for Echo Located, who asked for a first person story about Celestia during the period of Luna's absence based on the poem 'The Seven Ages of Man' by William Shakespeare.
Prologue: All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
I cast my eyes to the ground. I know I should look up. I should gaze upon what I have done. Try as I might, I cannot. My gaze remains rooted to the gently settling glimmer of magic on the grass. It has been falling for several minutes. It only took me seconds to fall to the ground, my body a leaden weight. I am exhausted and I can feel my injuries poking me like the horns of precocious unicorn foals. The ruckus of battle is bringing guards. They will insist I accept medical attention. They will ask questions. They will want to know what happened.
They will want to know where Luna is.
“Luna …”
That breathy utterance is all it takes to reduce me to a sobbing mess in the grass. I cover my face with dented gold shoes, snorting and hiccuping my grief into the soft ground. If I could have the earth suck my emotions from me, I would. I would cast that spell and whatever others it took to release me from this awful, awful realisation of what I have done.
“There should have been another way!”
Voices. Not my own. The thunder of hooves.
I could teleport away. I could hide in my chambers. It would not stop the questions but it might purchase a little more time for me to -
To what?
What, exactly, would I do with an ounce more time? I have consigned my sister to a fate far worse than death. I have imprisoned my own flesh and blood. A few more minutes will not change that.
The owners of the hoofsteps draw near. Their voices crystallise into words.
“... bright flash …”
“ … royal chambers …”
“ … element alcove …”
“ … where is …”
“ … in the sky …”
“... did not recognise …”
“... another alicorn …”
“ … rally the troops …”
“... under attack …”
“... save the princesses…”
Panic suffuses them. They are scared. They hurtle headlong to what might be terminal danger but their steps do not slow. These ponies - our … my ponies. They are coming to rescue us. No … me. Just me. Only me now. They have seen the lights in the sky. For all they know, a force strong enough to harm an alicorn has entered their world, but still they come. Their loyalty is stultifying. My grief collides with it and is stopped in its own tracks.
With great effort, I force myself upright and realise just how weakened the battle has left me. I could not teleport even if I wished to. I have not even the magic left to dry my tears and hide my shame. I decide I should not hide it. My ponies will have questions. They will know Luna is gone the first time she does not lower the moon.
What shall I tell them? The truth would be devastating. To have a ruler, in whom they have placed so much trust and love, turn on everything she once held dear … the images my mind conjures of an Equestria wracked by distrust and internal conflict are enough to make the bottom fall out of my stomach. These ponies rely on Luna and I to keep them safe. Their concept of security is inextricably bound up in us. That … thing Luna transformed into would shake them down to their core. Equestria was the most important thing to us for centuries. We have nurtured this land. We have guided these ponies. We have shaped this nation into what it is today.
And all that could shatter, perhaps irrevocably, if they know one ruler betrayed them in favour of a lust for power and they subsequently lose trust in the other. Would they allow me to keep them safe anymore? Would they trust me enough?
Would I trust myself?
Luna fell to the darkness of her own desires. I was blind to it until it was too late. Have I been wilfully blind to my own dark desires also? Am I capable of betraying my ponies the same way my sister did?
The glitter of armour heralds my personal guard. At their head, Sharp Steel’s blue eyes are fixed on me. The rest fan out in a well-trained phalanx. Behind them come the Night Guard, taking to the air in perfect formation.
“My liege.” Sharp Steel’s voice has an edge that befits his name.
Instead of greeting him, I say, “The danger is over, Captain Steel.”
He quirks an eyebrow minimally. “My liege?”
“Equestria is safe once more. My sister and I battled that which threatened our land.” The half-truth slips easily from my lips. My tone could easily be attributed to mere weariness.
Sharp Steel’s gaze flicks left and right. “And where is Princess Luna?”
I swallow. “Gone.”
“Gone?” It is not Sharp Steel who echoes me. The Captain of Luna’s Night Guard lands near me and gives a perfunctory bow. “Gone?” the heavy-set thestral says again, as if I might not have heard him prior. I try to recall his name but the memory frays and slips away from me.
“The darkness we fought … took her.” Despite myself, my eyes brim with fresh tears. I cannot afford to let them fall. My entire face burns as I refuse this basic biological impulse. “She has been … taken from us. Forever.”
Forever is such a strange word to an immortal. For these two ponies, forever means only to the end of their lifetime. Unless I am killed by another, I will go on living without end. My forever is a far cry from theirs. Luna is gone from them forever. From me …
“My liege, are you saying Princess Luna is dead?”
I picture the stark slitted eyes glaring at me, the horn above them glowing with magic intended to murder me and seal away the sun so that the land withers and dies in the cold of eternal night. Luna understood balance. She understood the need for both night and day to allow life to flourish. Luna would never break that balance.
“Yes,” I croak. “I am.”
“No …” The Night Guard captain staggers as if physically struck. “Not Princess Luna …”
Did he have any idea of the darkness invading Luna’s soul? He was probably closer to her than I by the end. Did anypony suspect what was happening to my poor sister?
A traitorous tear slips past my resolve and slides down my cheek. My knees buckle. Sharp Steel is there in an instant, leaning hard against me to bear my weight.
“Come, my liege. You are injured. We must take you to the infirmary.”
“Princess Luna…” The Night Guard captain continues to whisper. “Dead? I cannot be. It simply … cannot be!”
I allow myself to be led away. At this stage I cannot imagine what the future may hold. Equestria and I will both bear scars from this, though our grief will be of different shades. They will mourn the death of a ruler who valiantly defended them and fell in battle. I will mourn the sister I neglected until my indifference to her suffering created a monster.
I cast my eyes to the ground and steadfastly do not look up at the night sky.
Age 1: At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
----
The mare stood in front of me on three legs, a swaddled bundle in her raised foreleg. For some reason I still cannot explain, I was struck by the colour of her eyes. Certainly, green is not an unusual hue in a pony, but these luminous green ones were fixed so imploringly on me that I found it quite distracting.
“I can assure you, Miss Merryweather, that Equestria will not fall. Not today, not tomorrow, and not as long as I draw breath.”
“But…” She bit her lip, clearly also biting down on whatever she had been about to say.
“Go on, my little pony,” I said, as reassuring as I could under the circumstances. “Say what it is you wish to say. There will be no censure or reprisal from me.”
She shut her eyes. I was quite grateful for that until she spoke. “But you might not always be here, your majesty.”
“I am not about to abandon this land or you.”
“That … is not what I meant, your majesty.” She squeezed her eyes even tighter shut. “I know Day Court is meant to be for questions and disputes, not … well, not … this. But … I would like to know that my daughter will grow up in a world that is safe and with a ruler who will not … will not …”
The unspoken word hung in the middle of the court like a firefly: die.
“Leave us,” she finished instead.
For a moment I could not speak. I posed it as a thoughtful silence, as if I was considering her words with the same gravity I would consider the words of a foreign diplomat. I carefully smoothed a familiar expression across my face: that of the beatific ruler, divine and near-omniscient, who could not possibly be wrong in anything she said. It was an expression long practised. I noted the immediate easing of tension in her shoulders at its appearance.
“Miss Merryweather.” My voice was gentle as the clouds my pegasi pushed across the sky and as solid and reassuring as the earth beneath our hooves. “I will never leave the land. This land is me and I am this land. I could no more leave Equestria than the air itself could turn into cheese. I will take no risks with its future for I am its servant and a servant to its ponies. A ruler must serve those who look to her or else she is no true ruler at all.” I smiled. It hurt my cheeks. “I will always be here for you and all my little ponies.”
The tiny mare before me clutched her even tinier bundle even closer. “Thank you, majesty.”
I nodded, giving her tacit permission to leave.
Once she was gone I stood, startling the guards beside my throne. “No more appointments today.”
“But majesty -”
“I am tired and there is still work to be done. If anypony is indeed waiting, please take their names and assure them they will be seen at first light tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, I walked off my podium and out of the throne room. It wasn’t as if they could stop me. I was the divine and near-omniscient ruler, after all.
Two thrones, side by side, one red velvet, the other blue. Only the red velvet was crushed today. I pushed those thoughts from my mind and quickened my step. I wasn’t sure where I was going but I wanted to go there fast. The hypocrisy of my running away right after assuring one of my subjects that I would always be here did not escape me, but my mind thrummed with the need for solitude.
It was at times like this that I most wished Starswirl was still around.
“What advice would you give me, old friend?” I asked once the doors had closed behind me.
Of course, nopony answered. I sighed, dropping my head in a way I never would - never could - in front of my subjects. All at once my legs trembled as if they could no longer hold me up. I was not lacking in energy but the shaking would not stop. I cast a teleportation spell and flopped gratefully onto my bed in my own chambers.
To my chagrin, what seemed like only moments later, a knock sounded at the ornate internal door.
“M … majesty?” quavered a voice.
“I have no need of thy services at present, Golden Comb.”
The maidservant apologised profusely and her hoofsteps retreated. I imagined her perched on her chair, staring at the door between ours chambers. She was a nervous mare, excellent at her work and loyal to a fault but prone to anxiety at the slightest provocation. Knowing I was in here at a time I would usually be abroad in the castle would have thrown off her routine. My brain ticked over the knowledge that she was also a loose-lipped pony and that my choice to languish in my room may lead to rumours of illness amongst my little ponies. Such public concern was not one I wished to encourage right now, so instead I summoned another teleportation spell and transported myself away from the familiar surroundings.
I emerged on the other side in a plain room of wood and shallow decoration. My hooves did not clank when they touched the floor, but echoed with the hollow clop of an ordinary, unshod pony. I turned to make sure my wings no longer crested my back, which appeared narrowed than usual. Soft grey fur clothed me, enough shades off from my usual white to convince any casual glances that the small earth pony before them did not spend most of her time ruling the realm from a red velvet throne. The glamour was not a particularly complicated spell. Disguises were showponyship. It would be the work of a moment to revert to my usual size and shape. I tossed my head, feeling the weight of actual hair. Sometimes I missed that comforting solidness. It made me feel … for lack of a better word, ‘realer’.
I kept the little house in lower Canterlot for personal use. Nopony batted an eyelid as I left it and walked slowly down the street. I needed some time alone, but for a princess of the realm, that was easier said than done. Calling this part of the city ‘lower’ was almost a joke - the upper levels were still being built. My own design, helped immensely by the best architects Equestria had to offer. I had begun calling the little group ‘City Planners’ which made them swell with such pride I had already resolved to create a new guild of the name especially for them.
Luna would never see Canterlot finished. She had never seen the need for another city, casting sidelong looks at the plans when they were presented to her and voicing dissent that I was simply building a higher plinth for ponies to revel in my glory. It never seemed to occur to her that ponies reaching to the sky held their hooves towards both the sun and the moon.
I trotted along the newly laid cobblestones and veered left, to a section of the city in which ponies were already living. Everfree was a wonderful capital but had reached capacity a generation ago. In our wildest dreams we had never expected ponykind to flourish so after Discord’s rule. While I viewed the rising number of surviving births each year, part of my brain nagged at me until I commissioned the start of Canterlot as a sort of overflow. I had intended to ask Luna to rule from one city while I took care of the other. In hindsight, even if she had not turned into that … creature of darkness, perhaps my plans were all a fool’s errand. Perhaps Luna would have pitted her city against mine and laid waste to our little ponies even more than she was able before I banished her.
Moving to Canterlot was not an upgrade in accommodation. The nobility resisted, wanting to keep the positions they had spent generations securing in Everfree. Within the city walls rose monuments to their lineage - houses, mansions, even buildings constructed to resemble small castles. If I were an ordinary leader, not the ageless scion of celestial bodies, I think I should have been much warier of the nobles and their desire for greatness. More than one ruler of each of the three tribes had been deposed by his or her own ponies.
Canterlot bustled with the lower classes. I could hear their voices the nearer I came to the neat rows of houses beyond the building work. A skidded to a stop as a small filly rushed across my path, pursued by a colt so similar they had to be related. Each brandished a small wooden sword, making their pell mell gallop a wonky affair limited to three legs.
“I vanquish thee, foul demon!” the colt cried.
“You can’t vanquish me!” the filly protested. “I’m the hero this time!”
“Yeah but boys are stronger so I still win.” He puffed up his chest. “I vanquish thee, foul hero!”
“That doesn’t even make any sense! You never play fair! I’m telling Momma that you’re not playing fair!” The filly held her sword tight to her chest and turned down a nearby alley, shouting as she ran. “Momma! Momma! Crescent is being mean to me again!”
“I am not!” The colt shot after her.
I paused, watching them leave. Neither had so much as acknowledged my presence. It felt rather good, to be honest. A cart creaked by and I stepped aside to avoid it. The grizzled stallion pulling it nodded in my direction.
“G’day, ma’am,” he rasped.
“Um, good day, sir.”
“Mmhmm. Good, good day.” He mouthed on a well-chewed stalk of straw. “You keepin’ well?”
I was taken aback. “I, uh … yes, thank you.” I hesitated before adding. “And yourself?”
“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” He moved the stalk to the other side. “Sun came up on time, so I’d count that as a good day, considerin’.” He nodded to himself. “Can’t be easy. Nope. Can’t be easy. Well, I’d best be gettin’ on or else my wife’ll be naggin’ like the nag she is.” He winked at me, smiling two rows of broken yellow teeth, “Fifty-two years married an’ I wouldn’t have her any other way. Good day t’you, ma’am.”
I watched him go, bemused by the exchange. “Uh … yes. Good day to you too, sir.”
Life went on. No matter the turmoil in my heart or the terrible things that had transpired in the dead of night, life still went on. It didn’t pause, didn’t wait, didn’t so much as stumble. It teemed around me in this half-built city, bubbling into each new day and spilling over into the next night and beyond.
“I’ve told you two, you need to be nicer to each other. I don’t have time to referee your arguments all the time!” A feminine alto echoed from the alleyway the two foals had run down. The rough cry of a newborn followed her words. “Oh, now look what your arguing has caused! Hush, my darling, hush now. Shhhh, shhhh, it’s all right.”
My hooves moved as if of their own accord. I barely remember trotting down the alley or fetching up in front of the little house. The porch was newly scrubbed. A pair of wooden swords leaned against it. My knock brought a muffled curse and hoofsteps to the door.
“Yes?” The brown mare was weatherbeaten now but had been pretty once. Age couldn’t take away the signs of her former beauty. “Can I help you?”
“I’m sorry.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth. “Your foal. I … I heard crying. I was passing by and … the filly and colt crossed my path…” I struggled to explain what even I was having trouble understanding.
She mare stared at me. “Did they bother you? Oh, those two troublemakers! I’m terribly sorry.”
“No, no! It’s fine. I just ... “ I shrugged. “You sound like you could use some help.”
She pushed tendrils of mane from her face. “Couldn’t everypony? The whole world seems to be going to pieces lately.”
“All the more reason we should pull together,” I replied. “In times of adversity ponies need to support each other.”
She gave me a strange look. “Uh … yeah, I suppose.”
“I … used to sing to … my little sister when we were much younger. She was a fretful filly, always too fussy to sleep, but when I sang to her it … helped.”
“You’re telling me you want to sing to my baby?” The strange look became penetrating. “I’m afraid I don’t have any spare coin for travelling minstrels -”
“No, I desire no payment. I … my sister … I lost her recently.” I resisted by tears formed in my eyes at having to say the words. “In a terrible accident.”
The mare’s face gentled in an instant. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I lost my sister when we were tiny, too. Pneumonia.” She cast her eyes downward. “Would … you like to come in, uh …?”
“Dovetail.” The pigeon that had inspired my name looked at me curiously from the eaves.
“Miss Dovetail.” The mare stepped aside. “I’m Honeycomb. This little one here is Ginger Root, and the two ruffians you met earlier were Cinnamon and Pumpkin Seed.”
I was led into a small, neat kitchen with a round table that would have been far too small had I been my real size. Honeycomb shooed away the two little faces peering around the doorway and gestured me into a chair. Her hesitation was slight before she placed the bundle of loud swaddling into my forehooves.
“Hello there, little one,” I murmured, pushing aside the cloth to get a better look at the foal’s face.
Ginger Root’s orange fur was tufting and streaked with tears. Her eyes were scrunched so tightly shut that she couldn’t tell I wasn’t her mother until I spoke. They shot open and gazed at me, though she didn’t stop her crying.
“Hush now.”
I closed my eyes briefly, calling up the lullaby from so long ago. I remembered being trusted to hold a similar swaddled bundle and a tufted blue face staring up at me. I remembered a firm parental hoof steadying my grip and how I had stared right back at my newborn sister.
“Sleep, filly, sleep, Your father tends the sheep. Your mother shakes the dreamland tree. And from it fall sweet dreams for thee, Sleep, filly, sleep.
“Sleep, filly, sleep, Our cottage vale is deep The earth pony is on the green With soil and seed so soft and clean Sleep, filly, sleep.
“Sleep, filly, sleep, As you I safely keep, The unicorns bring on the night, In clouds the pegasi sleep tight, Sleep filly sleep.”
Ginger Root yawned and nuzzled against my stroking hoof.
“I’ve never seen her nod off so quickly before!” Honeycomb whispered. “You’re a marvel, Miss Dovetail.”
I said nothing, just continued to stroke the tiny, helpless filly. Once upon a time Luna had been this small and helpless. Once upon a time I had sung this lullaby to her and watched her perfect little eyelashes curl upon her cheeks. Once upon a time neither of us had any thoughts of rulership, power or betrayal in our heads. We were young, we were together and we were happy. That was all that mattered.
But life went on. It did not stop for my grief or regrets. Honeycomb’s family and families just like them still had lives to live. They needed a ruler. They needed a princess.
They needed me.
“I’m glad I could help.” I passed Ginger Root back to her mother and rose from my chair. “I’ll be on my way now.”
“Oh!” Honeycomb looked shocked. “Won’t you please stay for some tea first?”
“I’m afraid not. I have things I must attend to today. I was … on my way to work when your young ones crossed my path.” I hesitated. It felt like a lifetime inside my head. “But … could I perhaps take you up on that offer at a later date?”
Honeycomb smiled. “If you can get my little Ginger Root to sleep like this again, you’re welcome back here anytime, Miss Dovetail.”
I smiled, bid her goodbye and left the neat little home. Instead of exploring further, I trotted back to my safe house.
Age 2: And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school.
----
The aspect of longevity most ponies fail to grasp is that one must unstick oneself from time a little to prevent oneself from going mad. To an ordinary pony a year is a very long time, five years is too long to plan for and eighty years is a lifetime. To an alicorn, eighty years is comparable to eighty seconds in our lifetime. I know with great certainty that, provided no-one seeks out the darkest of dark arts to kill me, I will live forever. That sort of realisation is not one that can be accepted easily. One must change the shape of one’s mind and store it away inside as a fact to be recognised and acknowledged but not allowed near the forefront of the brain. I tried to explain this to a close friend once long ago and the best I could come up with was that most ponies are aware of the existence of hydras but fear of hydras is not something they think about 100% of the time. I think he understood. He was a very clever pony and understood most things I fumblingly tried to explain the nuances of alicorn existence to him, spurred by his nodding and noises of comprehension. One also develops other methods of coping with an eternity of life. Companionship was always a key facet for Luna and I; the knowledge that there was somepony else out there who not only understood but shared our unique perspective on the nature of existence, time and mortality. Without her, eternity stretched before me, vast and lonely. My mind recognised that if it was to stop itself tipping over the edge into insanity in her absence, new coping methods would have to be developed.
Canterlot had long since thrived into a bustling city the day I decided to open a school in it. No, not just a school. My school.
“A school, your highness? But there are already plenty of schools - one per district in fact.”
The Canterlot City Council stared back at me with the polite dismay one might exhibit if at a refined dinner party the host vomited up frogs whenever they spoke.
“Not an ordinary school,” I corrected softly. “A school I shall run myself.”
This, of course, was met with much muttering and knitting of brows. The council ran most day to day parts of the city and tended to think of themselves as the ones in charge, while I was more of a figurehead with one hoof in the past. They thought I wasn’t aware of this and I was content to let them think it.
Mostly.
“Are you sure, your highness?” asked the same stallion who had already spoken. He had beetling brows that blended so well into his brown coat it seemed that his whole forehead was one giant frown. “Would you even have time for such an endeavour?”
“I shall make the time,” I replied, keeping my tone even and velvet. “This is not a snap decision, Councillor Inkwell. I have been planning this outreach for some time.”
“Outreach?” queried a mare with a beehive mane-do that flopped slightly into her eyes. She looked so much like her mother, a previous council-pony with whom I had spent many years in boring meetings, that for a moment I couldn’t decide on her name.
“Indeed, Councillor Wishful. While you are correct that Canterlot does indeed have many schools, the same cannot be said for all parts of Equestria. I have been receiving visits from ponies who hail from our more far-flung towns and villages about ... “ How could I best phrase it? Unicorn fillies and colts of such unusual magical strength they accidentally caused spontaneous combustion, earthquakes and other disasters? “Untrained youngsters of magical persuasions who require schooling their geographical areas simply cannot provide.”
“Are you suggesting that they come here?”
“Why not?”
“How would they pay for their schooling?”
“My dear councillor, they would not have to.”
Her beehive nearly fell off her head in shock. “Are you suggesting a school comprised entirely of scholarships?”
“The royal coffers shall cover any costs needed, and yes, that is exactly what I suggest. My school will not be a large one. I intend to take in only the most talented ponies in Equestria and nurture them as the future generation of magic-users.”
“To what end?” asked a grey unicorn stallion with a mouth like a twist of wire.
“The betterment of our country, Councillor Silk Spell.” I allowed a hint of steel to enter my own voice. His wiry mouth twisted down. “Our foals are our future, whether they come from Canterlot, Trottingham, Gallopville or even the Everfree Forest. All ponies are equal in unified Equestria, as you well know.”
He made a noise that might have been agreement but could easily have been wind. “Even so, your majesty, such an undertaking would be taking away from -”
“From what, councillor?” I asked so softly that had they all not be attuned to me, they would have missed it. Luna used to favour shouting but I preferred a gentler approach; a steel resolve lined with silver on my tongue. I had laid out my plans in a document given to all the councillors in advance of this meeting. This was supposed to be just for them to qualify any details from that. Instead, they seemed hung up on the mere idea of what I planned. Their intrinsic snobbery bothered me. “This is a personal project of mine. You will see the financial outline on page 83 and the logistical explanations on pages 34 through 44.”
“Yes.” A small blue pegasus with a shock of white mane that seemed sculpted of pure cloud raised her hoof. Her eyes were fixed on the document, which she had been leafing through since the start of the meeting. I saw with some satisfaction that she had made her own notes in the margins. “I did have a question about that.”
“Yes, Councillor Quick Bolt?”
“Under faculty.” She tapped the page. “You intend to recruit from outside Equestrian borders?”
“I intend to seek out the best teachers I can, wherever they are.”
“So … non-ponies then? Griffons? Zebras?” She raised her eyes at last, fixing me with a hard green stare. “Dragons perhaps?”
Internally I stumbled. Externally I retained my poise. I had a lot of practise at that. Griffonstone and Zebrica were on my list of places to venture for teachers. After all, what use is a special school for gifted students without specially gifted teachers to guide them? Dragons, however …
“Perhaps not dragons,” I replied.
Councillor Quick Bolt nodded minimally.
“Zebras and griffins living in Canterlot!?” thundered Councillor Inkwell. “Preposterous! We cannot allow that, your majesty!”
“I would have thought networking with our neighbours would be a very wise course of action, Inkwell,” Councillor Quick Bolt answered before I could. “Do we forever want to be known as ‘the country that attracted Nightmare Moon?’ I think that an outreach program that incorporates all classes, races and nationalities could be very beneficial to Equestria. It might even open up trade possibilities with some of our more … intransigent neighbours.”
“What, Minotauria?” snorted Councillor Inkwell.
“Among others.” Councillor Quick Bolt snapped her document shut and tapped her forehooves together. “Princess Celestia, while I do think there are some bugs to be ironed out in your plans, I believe they are not only workable but a genuinely good idea. You have my support.”
“Thank you, Councillor Quick Bolt.” I looked around at the other gathered ponies. “And the rest of the council?”
Councillor Wishful pushed her mane from her eyes and sighed. “I do see some benefit in this venture, though maybe not as many as my colleague.” Her eyes slid to Quick Bolt but couldn’t hold her stare for long. “You have my support too, your majesty.”
Gradually, one by one, the councillors nodded their assent until only Inkwell was left. His brows beetled so hard that I could barely see his eyes anymore.
“My princess,” he harrumphed. “Since I am clearly outvoted, I will also support you in this endeavour. Though I will say now that I do not think it is a good idea, nor do I think it will succeed.” He folded his forelegs and refused to meet anyone’s gaze. I heard him mutter in what he thought was an inaudible huff: “It’ll fail within the year anyway.”
I nodded politely at him, as I had with all the councillors before him. “You have my thanks, Councillor Inkwell.”
The meeting fell to more mundane topics, the highlight of which was the repair cost of a water fountain in one of the richest districts. I pointed out that repairs to a decorative feature were less important than repairing pipes for drinking water to less affluent areas, which was met with varying degrees of assent. No matter the generation, somehow the elite never change.
Finally the meeting ended and everypony disbanded. I made my way to the exit.
“Princess?”
I looked around.
“A word, if I may?”
“Of course, Councillor Quick Bolt.”
She drew level with me and touched down, folding in her wings with the elegance of an aristocrat accepting a drink at the Grand Galloping Gala. “Simply Quick Bolt is sufficient, if that behooves you, Majesty.”
“It does indeed. What can I do for you?”
“I would like to aid you in your school project with more than simply a vote in a council meeting.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “There are some pegasi in Cloudsdale and other places who have exhibited … odd tendencies of late.”
I frowned a little. In all honesty I had envisioned the school as a purely unicorn project, since those were the fillies and colts I had heard about, but her words gave me pause. “Odd tendencies?”
“Exhibiting talents one might have expected more in unicorns or earth ponies.”
“Such as?”
“Talking with animals and understanding their responses, for example.” She cut her eyes at me. “And potion brewing.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Potions? In Cloudsdale?”
“Some young pegasi have moved into ground-bound towns and picked up … skills unsuited to them.”
“Unsuited?” I said carefully.
She sighed brisky. “To speak plain and honest, they’re developing special talents one would expect to see in unicorns and earth ponies, not pegasi. They are even receiving cutie marks for these talents. At present I am unsure as to whether this would still happen if they had stayed in purely pegasi settlements but the idea is moot. Mixing pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies into single villages and towns is having some unforeseen results. As leaders, I feel it is our duty to safeguard these ponies - both from themselves and from the reactions of those who do not fully understand what is happening in our unified land.”
I sensed there was more to her words than she was saying. “Have there been negative ‘reactions’ as you put it?”
She allowed a silence to percolate between us before responding. “Wing clipping. I have come across several incidents of it. Sometimes by parents of those who develop non-pegasus cutie marks. Some of the ponies who were interviewed communicated that if their offspring insisted on acting like ground-dwellers, they decided to make them … resemble ground-dwellers more. In one particularly bad case, the afflicted colt’s family went further and sheared his wings off at the shoulders.”
I was appalled. I realised my mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “That is unacceptable - ”
“It is the product of old ways meeting progress, Princess. A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.” Quick Bolt closed her eyes briefly. “Even if we may truly wish it could be. This is why I support your idea of a school for exceptional and unique young ones to learn about their talents. I believe in it at its core. Education is a far better tool to aid progress than lawmaking or force.”
I considered her words behind a stoic mask. “Very well then. If you would write up your proposal as an addendum to my own I will look it over.”
She nodded and respectfully withdrew.
I considered her words as I returned to my chambers. Pegasi developing the skills of unicorns and earth ponies? I wondered whether the same was true of other fillies and colts. Earth pony fillies with a talent for runes, perhaps, or unicorns born with a love of heights and weather manipulation?
A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.
It was with a troubled mind that I retired the sun that evening and raised the moon. I traced the outline of my sister with my eyes and wondered what she would say about such a fundamental change in our little ponies.
“What would you think?” I said aloud, as if I expected an actual response.
A new world cannot be achieved without sacrifice.
I turned away from the moon and quietly set about amending my plans.
Age 3: And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.
Part of me was surprised when he turned up. Part of me thought maybe I should have expected it. He was a master of time travel, after all. He could arrive and depart in my life whenever he wished, as he so often had before.
“Starswirl.”
“Hello there Celestia.”
He had the same wrinkles he’d had when I was a child, though not as deep. I wondered when he was speaking to me from.
“Would you like me to send down for some tea?”
His bells jingled when he turned his head, looking this way and that around my chambers. “You’re taking my sudden appearance in your bedroom rather better than I might have thought.”
“You’re far from the most unusual thing that has happened around here lately.”
“I am?” I almost laughed at his offended tone.
“This morning I was summoned to fix a spell one of the students had cast that accidentally turned the entire classroom into custard and opened a rift to a dimension of sentient frog creatures.”
Starswirl blinked at me. “Ah. I see. And in answer to your question, some tea would be nice.”
I yanked the appropriate bellpull, abandoned my paperwork and settled at the low table in the centre of the room. Starswirl arranged his robes neatly around his hooves and studied me.
“Hm. You changed your mane and tail.”
“Is this the furthest forward in time you have travelled so far?”
It took slightly longer than a moment for him to reply. “No.”
“I know better than to ask you what you’ve seen or what will happen.”
He lowered his eyes. “It seems not only your appearance has changed. You’ve grown into yourself, Celestia.”
“Excuse me?
“You … exude more wisdom than you did when I last saw you. A more princessly air.”
I barked a laugh. “You mean I’ve grown up?”
“If you want to boil to down to the most basic terms.” If he had possessed feathers, he would have ruffled them. “Then yes, you seem more grown up than when we last spoke.”
“And yet that didn’t stop you from warming my bed back then.” I stared at a particularly interesting whorl in the table’s woodwork. “Or leaving it cold when you disappeared one morning and never came back. Some wounds hurt no matter how old you get. Or I get.”
Starswirl at least had the decency to sound embarrassed. “You know I can’t tell you why.”
“Just like every other time,” I sighed. “I sometimes wonder why I put up with you.”
A maid arrived carrying a tea tray in her aura. If she was surprised to find me with an aging stallion in my chambers, she was professional enough not to let it show on her face. The tray alighted deftly with a vague whoosh as her magic evaporated.
“Will that be all, your majesty?”
“Yes thank you, Truly.”
She nodded and withdrew. Starswirl watched her go.
“Barely more than a child,” I heard him murmur.
“She’s twenty-six,” I replied as I levitated the milk into the air, adding it to my own teacup but not his. I remembered that he always preferred milk added last. Such a strange thing to retain more than a century between visits but it stuck in my mind like a particularly determined hook. “I was a year younger than her when you first found me.”
“You were?” He frowned.
“A very old version of you.” I allowed myself a small smile. “I didn’t understand you at all back then. All that talk of destiny and fate. I thought you were some old codger who had drunk too much arrowroot mead.”
“It’s entirely possible I shall be someday.” His horn lit up and he plunked two raised teaspoons of sugar into his cup. “Though the thought does fill me with some trepidation.”
“I was astounded when I saw you next - as young as I but still recognisably you. I thought maybe I’d met your grandfather that first time.”
“Mmm.” Starswirl watched as I poured first his cup and then my own. “Time travel is a confusing business.”
“Not something you need to tell me.”
I regarded him pensively, looking for that smooth-faced stallion I had met so long ago. I am an immortal. Starswirl is not. Was not. Will not be. Ugh, time travel certainly is confusing. Yet every time I saw him, he seemed so much older and wiser than I could ever be in all my eternity. We had learned together, studied side by side so long ago when life was simpler and knowledge all that mattered. Yet, as was always the case with longevity, eventually he had to leave my side. Just as duty called me, the inexorable pull of time dragged Starswirl back into its embrace. He was my lover of old but I knew I could never capture his heart the way time had.
“Will Luna come back to me in the future?” I asked despite myself. I hadn’t seen Starswirl since her banishment and had fought with myself over whether I would ask the question if I ever see him again.
Starswirl paused blowing steam off his tea. “You know I can’t answer that, Celestia. I can’t disrupt the timeline.”
“That’s not what old-you said when I first met him.”
He frowned, though whether at my temerity or himself I could not be sure. “Hmm. I’m not sure why I would jeopardise things so much. Was I specific or vague?”
“Vague,” I had to admit. “You said I had a great destiny ahead of me and would be put through many trials but that many ponies would rely on me to look after and nurture them.” I smiled sadly. “I thought you meant I was destined to be a mother of many foals someday.”
“Oh. Oh dear.” He winced. “Celestia, I apologise for what I said. Um, will say.”
I nodded and sipped my own tea. “I reconciled myself to it a long time ago. All the ponies of Equestria are my foals now.”
He seemed to cogitate for a moment. “I will say that … you shall be happy again someday in the way you were in the past, if not more so.”
I looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “To give you any more detail than that would be foolish on my part.”
“But - ”
“Please, Celestia. Don’t ask me any more than that.” He levitated a teaspoon and stirred his tea rhythmically far longer than was necessary. “I did not visit to talk of the future.”
“Oh? Then why are you here? I would have thought rationing out your life to different time periods meant you couldn’t waste it on any non-essential visits.”
He continued to stir his tea. “To be truthful, I … missed you.”
I nearly dropped my cup. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen things, Celestia. Things a mortal pony should never see. Things I cannot unsee. Sometimes … it weighs on me. Those are the times I think of you. My happiest times have all been when I visited you.” His smile was tiny and tragic and so genuine it actually hurt to look at. “I have often thought that, had my life been different. Well, had both of our lives been different … I might have loved you. Been in love with you, I mean. Maybe tried out that marriage and foals thing.”
My heart lurched. “That thought has crossed my mind a time or two as well,” I admitted.
“I’m sorry. That was a churlish thing to say. A sense of my own … mortality has made my tongue too loose.” He finally looked up at me. I suddenly wished I was twenty-five again and could vault the table to hug him like a pony who didn’t have a care in the world except making her friend feel better. “I saw my own death,” he said softly. “I made a mistake and landed in a time before I should have. Witnessed the whole thing.” His voice actually trembled. “Nopony should know something like that.”
I choked down my gasp. “You’re right.”
“I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go from there except here. To you. Rather silly of me, really.”
“I don’t think so. Friendship is a powerful thing.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. You have told me as much before, I suppose. How silly that it’s only … at times like this that I begin to believe you.” He sighed as if letting out a breath he had been holding for a millennium. Maybe he had. I wondered what he had seen, yet did not even consider asking. “Are those custard creams?”
“Your favourites,” I chuckled, sending the plate over to him. “I developed a taste for them myself.”
“I did always have excellent taste.” His eyes flashed. “In biscuits and in mares.”
I felt my cheeks burn. Only he had ever been able to make me blush like that. “I missed you too, Starswirl.”
We ate our biscuits and drank our tea, chatting amiably. He gave me teaching advice and we perused the curriculum I had been writing up for my school, which had proved harder to corral than I had initially thought. Ten years of teaching and I still found new things to take into consideration for my students each and every day. I told him stories of the earth pony filly who could miz potions even stronger than her unicorn tutors and the pegasus colt who had graduated and gone on to found a farm that grew the best carrots I had ever tasted. To my own embarrassment, I blossomed with pride under Starswirl’s praise for what I had accomplished with the school.
Sunset drew near and I stepped out onto the balcony to lower the sun, somehow knowing that when I went back inside that he would be gone.
“Until next time, Starswirl,” I whispered to the dissipating magical haze. “Whenever that may be.”
Age 4: Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth.
It is difficult for an immortal to become truly tired. I do not simply mean sleepy or fatigued. When I use the word ‘tired’ I mean that bone-weariness that runs deep into a pony who is doing too much with too little for too long.
I was truly tired when the bell at my tent door rang; a soft but insistent ring, as if the pony tapping the bell knew they should leave me alone but also knew they couldn’t. My horn ached deep into my skull and it was with a creeping suspicion that rest would continue to elude me that I called for the pony to enter.
“Majesty.”
“Commander Maelstrom.”
He parsed me with a gaze I’d heard his troops describe as ‘thousand mile’. At the end of those thousand miles, however, was a very tired charcoal pegasus who probably needed sleep even more than I did.
“I take it you have something to report?”
He nodded. “The bears have taken the western deep.”
My heart sank. “What of our forces there?”
He shook his head. “They used strange magic.” He gestured at the table before me, where evidence lay strewn around of my attempts to deconstruct the Northern Bears’ sigil-based enchantments. “Somewhat like we have seen before but … unlike it also.”
“Explain yourself, commander.”
He dropped his chin to his chest for a moment as if gathering himself. “The sigils were written in blood on the snow.”
I hadn’t thought my heart could sink further. I was wrong. “Their prisoners …”
“Left out in the snow for us to see the source of the blood they’d used.”
I schooled my face into a calm mask. My hoof, however, did not receive the message in time. It slammed down on the tabletop, making the papers flutter and my empty goblet fall over. “It is too much! They take too much, ask too much, do too much - ”
“Princess.” Maelstrom’s quiet voice cut through my outburst like lemon juice through milk.
Ashamed, I gathered myself quickly. “My apologies, Commander.”
“Do not apologise, your highness. Your unguarded emotions show just how much you care for your ponies.”
Then why can’t I save them? I almost said aloud. Instead, I drew myself up and stepped stiffly to the carafe to pour a fresh drink. One of the perks of an alicorn’s constitution is an inability to get drunk. Our metabolism burns away alcohol so fast that even a light buzz is impossible. “How much ground did we lose to the bears?”
“Up to the Golden Valley. Commander Valiant's unicorn battalion drove them back with the help of Captain Airheart’s pegasus platoon.”
I nodded. “I will journey to the front and see what must be done.”
Knowing Maelstrom could not see me while I faced away from him, I closed my eyes. The Northern Bears were strange and terrible creatures - white behemoths not seen in Equestria since before it even had a name. I had almost thought them extinct until reports reached Canterlot of sightings in far flung villages along our border. When the attacks began, I had tried to find a diplomatic solution but my ignorance of the bears led to a conflict unheard of since King Sombra himself.
“Who would you say are the fastest, best-sighted fliers in your troops, Maelstrom?”
“Firefly and Whizzer, your highness.”
The names pulled me up short. “Whizzer?”
“Her true name is Windsong but she, uh, prefers to be named after the noise she makes when she flies. Her record is impeccable so we, ah, indulge her a little on that.”
“Very well. Send Firefly and … Whizzer to scout the frontline. Look for any weak points or signs that the bears are preparing to attack again. If they make it past Iron Mountain -”
“Canterlot will fall,” Maelstrom finished for me.
They were too close. They were too damn close. How had it come to this? Was all my hard work, all the foundations Luna and I had laid, all the good we had done to build up this country and unite its citizens - was it all to fall because of an enemy we didn’t even realise we had? And why were the bears doing this? We had no quarrel with them.
“Go now. Do as I have instructed.”
“I will do as you ask, my liege.”
Maelstrom made a quick bow and departed. I heard the curtain across the doorway swish but did not turn around. To be honest, I was unsure whether my legs would even hold me up for much longer. I had waded into many skirmishes in this conflict. My magic bounced off the bears, doing far less damage than it should have. My shields around Canterlot had held long enough for the citizenry to be evacuated but tensing my magic for so long had left me depleted. I feared the worst even as I prepared to fight it.
Somewhere in the back of my brain I could hear my sister chiding me for not showing more fortitude. Mayhap it was lack of sleep, but I could see her in my mind’s eye, clear as crystal, dashing ahead of me as we careened into battle with Discord himself. She was always the braver of the two of us. Some might have called it reckless. I did, actually, but only because her eagerness to put herself in harm’s way to right great evils worried me so much.
“You take too many risks, Luna!” I had shouted at her so many times.
“And you don’t take enough, Celestia! The world is not made by cowardice - it is forged in battle and doing what must be done by those who can do it!”
So many lifetimes had passed since I had heard her voice. I would have given anything in that moment to have her by my side again. Luna would have known what to do about the bears. Luna would have been able to keep our little ponies safe.
The curtain swished. Hooves thudded quietly behind me.
“Commander Maelstrom, you cannot possibly have -” I turned.
My heart caught in my throat.
He looked so much older than our last visitation. Red stained his beard and trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth. His knees trembled but he met my gaze squarely. Cradled in one crooked foreleg was a small bundle of fur that sparkled like new frost.
“Celestia...” he wheezed.
“Wh … what …?”
Starswirl buckled like a foal taking its first steps. With a cry, my magic flashed out to catch him and the thing he carried. I registered how frail they both were and eased my grip so as not to crush their bones.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, gentling him to the ground.
“No time.” Blood flecked his chin as he spoke. When he drew a ragged breath I saw that his cloak was stained and torn in three parallel cuts. “You must … return him …” He gestured at the bundle. “He is their prince … one is born only every thousand years … wild magic … he accidentally transported himself into the Everfree Forest … I knew … where to find him but … but …” He coughed. “I was … almost too late.” Something like a laugh gurgled up from within him. “A time traveller … almost too late to save a little cub from being eaten by a manticore … such irony …”
I hushed him but he glared at me and I cowed.
“You must return him to the bears ... he is why they are attacking. They think ... Equestria has stolen their prince. They will stop ... at nothing ... to get him back. Return him and their entire army will ... retreat back to the frozen north beyond the Forgotten Empire.”
“You’re serious?” I looked down at the tiny face of a bear cub that might have doubled for a child’s plaything. He burbled and sucked his paw like his absence had not caused a war.
“Princes of the Frozen North possess powerful magic.” Starswirl breathed in heavily, the air rasping in his throat. “This one is ... more powerful than most … he’ll be a great king someday …” He closed his eyes. “I have seen it. I have seen such things, Celestia …” He trailed off. His eyelids fluttered and then stilled.
“Starswirl?” Panic suffused me. “Starswirl!”
His eyes snapped open. In a trice he had pushed himself away from me and broken my magical hold on him from pure shock.
“No. Not here. Not now!” He shook his head. “This … wasn’t how I saw it.”
“Starswirl?”
“I have to go … to the right place … the right time.” He shook his head again. “Goodbye, Celestia. Please do as I have asked.” He gave me a tiny smile before disappearing in a swirling vortex of light. “I will be there … at the end … I promise you.”
I stared at where he had been.
The bear prince sneezed.
I frowned.
“I may not speak the language or your kind, little one.” I quickly wrote a missive to Commander Maelstrom, sent it in a puff of smoke, exited my tent and opened my wings. I was tired but I would make this last flight. “But I will make them understand the truth of this matter.”
He giggled.
Two pegasi mares joined me a while later. Firefly and Whizzer flanked me all the way to the front line, their presence buoying me up. They reminded me why I was doing what I was doing. My little ponies trusted in me to keep them safe. Starswirl trusted me to finish the task he had started. I would be worthy of that trust.
Age 5: And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part.
I sat ramrod behind my desk. Sleep pulled incessantly at my eyelids but I had long practise at seeming attentive while my mind wandered. The pony before me dashed off sketch after sketch with aplomb, shooting what I assume were platitudes at me to keep me motivated. Beyond him I could see one of my aides checking her clipboard. A sigh bubbled up inside me. Their grandparents had fought beside me in a war. Their great great grandparents had bowed before me as a goddess incarnate. And these ponies organised my day to include a ‘feelings forum’ and lessons on how to ‘smise’.
“Gorgeous, your highness. Just raise your chin a little and … magnificent! Oh, you have such an aquiline nose, your grace!”
I wasn’t even sure what that meant. I prayed for the interminable torture to just end already. Though what followed it would probably be just as relentlessly dull.
“And I think … yes that’s enough.” The sketch artist beamed at me and began to gather up his things. “I propose one, maybe two more sittings for linework and colour matching, but this should be enough for me to work on your window for now.”
“My sincere gratitude, Mister Mirrorshine.” I nodded my head in the expected manner and took my leave.
Stained glass windows to commemorate Equestria’s past had seemed like such a good idea at the time. For someone reason, however, the fact that I would have to be featured in at least one had slipped my mind. Still, at least this would go some way to evoking the kind of story I was trying to cultivate about ‘The Legend of Nightmare Moon’. History was as malleable as fresh dough if you knew how to knead it properly.
“Majesty!”
I halted in my tracks. I had almost made it to the relief of solitude. Almost. I turned to regard the heavyset white stallion advancing on me as if this was his castle and I the subject being graced with its opulence. His beard, though neatly trimmed, seemed to all be standing on end like an angry cat.
“Your majesty!”
I squinted at him for a moment. “Headmaster Silverfoot. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The stallion bristled at me through his carefully coiffed moustache and beard. “Your majesty,” he said again. “I must speak with you.”
“Is that not what we are doing now?”
His bristle subsided as he processed my words. “Yes … well … I must speak with you in regards to one of your - our - students.”
“Oh dear. I take it from your tone that you are not here to regale me with tales of stellar test scores and beautifully written essays.”
“Indeed not, your majesty,” Headmaster Silverfoot huffed. “I require your presence at the school immediately.”
I blinked at him. I had been more of a figurehead at the school than I had intended when it first opened but royal duties precluded anything else. I wondered a little at my youthful enthusiasm to run both a country and an education establishment on my own. To be summoned in person meant something very serious was afoot.
“What has happened, Headmaster?” I asked, keeping my tone calm.
“One of the students, majesty. He has … has …” Headmaster Silverfoot shut his eyes as though counting to ten. “He has … defaced the portrait in the Main Hall.”
“Defaced it? How? That portrait is covered in warding spells isn’t it? And, if I recall correctly, one or two protection enchantments and a Keep Clean lodestone, yes?”
“Exactly, your majesty!”
I stared at him for as long as was appropriate. The I pushed down a sigh. “Lead on, Headmaster.”
I was escorted to his office, where a tiny brown colt sat defiantly on what looked like a very uncomfortable chair. He turned when the door opened, a look of rebelliousness on his face that melted into fear when he saw me.
“Purple Pumpkin,” blustered Headmaster Silverfoot. “You were warned that if this sort of thing happened again you would face the direst of consequences. Well, now you face them!” He seemed almost proud that a single student had driven him to call upon the leader of the whole country.
I studied the colt for a moment over Headmaster Silverfoot’s head. He was small, one might even say runty, and what had appeared at first to be a purely brown coat now revealed itself to be a patchwork of various shades splashed across him by an artist who was running out of paint. A large splodge of brown so dark it was almost black covered one of his eyes, making the gold irises appear almost luminous in his face. By contrast his nose was so pale as to be almost white. I watched it twitch, recognising somepony struggling very hard not to wrinkle their snout in disgust.
“Headmaster SIlverfoot.”
“Hm?” Evidently I had cut him off.
“Would you please leave us for a moment?”
“I, uh … yes. Yes of course. I’ll be right outside, your majesty.”
“Could you please go and check on the damage and make a report to to treasury? I’m sure the royal coffers can stand to restore whatever harm was done.”
“Y-yes, right away your majesty!”
He dutifully trotted off. I listened to his steps retreat down the corridor.
It was several minutes before either one of us spoke.
“Are you here to make an example out of me?”
I had been expecting a childish voice but what emerged from the tiny colt was the voice of someone on the very cusp of adulthood.
“An example out of you?”
“Like … string me up out on the schoolyard as an example to others or something, as t’were?”
“Does that sound like something I would do?”
“... No.” He paused before continuing, “I’ve heard stories from my grandfather though, so I have. About you … being a warrior princess and all that. So … I wasn’t sure. I mean, a princess can’t just give out a detention like a regular teacher, as t’were.”
“Whyever not? Though I should think punishment comes after finding out what crime has been committed. I hear you defaced a painting.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I’m more interested in how you did it.” I waved a hoof. “I was never fond of that portrait anyway. I was in particularly bad mood when I sat for the artist and I have always felt that he communicated that a little too well in his work. The first thing a young pony sees upon entering their new school should be a welcoming sight, not a scowling alicorn whose bottom hurts from sitting on a throne with a far too thin cushion and listening to ponies talk at her all day.”
The colt before me adopted the expression of one who has just seen an entire river get up and dance.
“So to bring the matter back to the question at hoof, how did you manage to damage that awful thing?”
“I … I ... “ He swallowed. “A solution of magnesium, eyebright, lungwort, dragon tears, water from a puddle of touched by the moon on the first night of the month and … and fanged jackdaw venom, so t’was.”
It was my turn to widen my eyes in surprise. “What on earth were you making with ingredients like those?”
He muttered something inaudible.
“Excuse me?”
“I was trying to invent an elixir to make myself taller, your majesty.”
“An elixir?”
He nodded. “Spells and enchantments are all temporary. They wear off at a maximum of two or weeks, give a few hours or so. Ensorcelled gems put into jewellery last longer but they’re just glamour - you’re not actually any taller under the illusion so ponies are always talking to a spot two feet above your head where they think your eyes are and you still can’t reach anything on high shelves.”
“So … you were trying to invent an elixir to … hold a spell in place permanently.”
“Yes. But it didn’t go right, no it didn’t. I must have used too much jackdaw venom because when Chisel, um, ‘accidentally knocked into me’ the phial I had it in went flying.” He made air quotes with his hooves and mimicked the trajectory of his potion phial. “It landed on the painting and kind of … er .. melted right through it.”
“And through the magic laid upon it,” I added.
“Do … do I have to pay for the damage?” His hind hooves shuffled further underneath him. The action was not a conscious one. He was making himself even smaller, as if trying to be a harder target to hit. “I’m not sure my family can afford -”
“That will not be necessary.” I sat down on the floor. This seemed to flummox him. “It takes a very powerful magic to break the kind of magic that was on that portrait … Purple Pumpkin was it?”
‘Yes, your majesty. Technically it’s just Pumpkin but my dad said I’m as unusual and as useful as a purple pumpkin in a briar patch and the name just kind of … stuck, as t’were.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “I would be interested to know how you came up with such a concoction.”
“It just seemed … logical, your majesty.”
“Logical?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“You are an earth pony, Purple Pumpkin.”
He looked down at his hooves as if checking they were still there. “Um, yes your majesty?”
“How long have you been a student here?”
“About a year your majesty. I’m here on a scholarship, so I am.”
Just a year? And he’s already making potions strong enough to break magic laid by unicorns thrice his age? I carefully schooled my face to show none of my surprise. “Where are you from originally?”
“Hoofington, your majesty.”
A purely earth pony settlement for several dozen generations.
“How are you finding Canterlot so far?”
Purple Pumpkin’s snout tried to wrinkle again, though he did a commendable job stopping it. “It’s … all right, your majesty.”
“Just all right?”
“It’s very … fancy. I prefer stuff plain, as t’were.”
I nodded. “Is that why you prefer potions to other forms of magical study?”
“Y-yes, your majesty, but how did you -”
“Only somepony very adept at potions could have come up with the brew you described.”
“Oh,” he said, a little dejected. After a little while he added, “Oh.”
“You must be very talented to have gained a scholarship here.”
“Truth be told, your majesty, I would have been just as happy staying home, but my parents were keen on me coming here after my teacher sent a letter to the scholarship board, so he did. They came out and tested me and everypony was so happy that I was something … special, I guess, as t’were.”
“You guess?”
“Life was … simpler back home, so t’was,” he admitted softly. “Canterlot is nice and I’ve loved learning all this new stuff but … things are more complicated here, so they are. Back home, if someone disrespects you, you knock ‘em down and you punch out your differences, then you get up, shake hooves and go about your business, so you do. Here it’s all …” There was that wrinkle again. “Polly-ticks and stuff. My dad warned me about polly-ticks. He said they happen all the time in the big city, so they do. I decided I don’t much care for polly-ticks, if you’ll beg my pardon, as t’were, your majesty.”
I fought the urge to laugh as he tripped over his words. “To be perfectly frank with you, Purple Pumpkin, I do not care much for them myself. Alas, into every life a little rain must fall. Tell me, are potions the only thing you have show such aptitude for?”
“I’m don’t take any of the pegasus electives, if that’s what you’re asking, your majesty. I’m good at potions and leylines work and … basically the kind of magic that’s more practical. Miss Hoofsky was explaining the space-time continuum theorem to us in class yesterday and it fair made my head spin, so it did. But you put me in front of a bunch of potion ingredients or give me some chalk and a stone circle and I’m right at home, so I am.”
“Indeed.” I surveyed him. “I think I shall have to keep a special eye on you. Purple Pumpkin.”
“A special eye, your majesty?” He looked scared.
“Not in a bad way. You have something special about you. I believe you may be destined for great things.”
“Begging your pardon, your majesty, but I’m not in perfect agreement with that statement, as t’were. I’m a simply country pony. Simple country ponies like me don’t get destined for great things. That’s just not how it’s done. Unicorns get great big special gilded destinies. Maybe even pegasi. But not earth ponies. Our destinies are all fields and fetlocks, so they are.”
“Never say never, Purple Pumpkin. All things that seem to have existed forever need to start somewhere.”
“I … I guess that makes sense.” He scrubbed at his mane. “You’d know better than me about that sort of thing, so you would. But I still think I disagree.”
“We shall see,” I smiled. “For now, I shall talk to the headmaster and tell him you have been thoroughly chastised and will never do anything like this again.”
“You will?”
“Will you do it again?”
“I won’t break any more paintings, if that’s what you mean.” He paused. “Um, not intentionally. Didn’t actually mean to break this one either, truth be told.”
“Hmm. Yes.” I recalled the air quotes. “Purple Pumpkin, how would you feel about extra tuition?”
“Excuse me, your majesty?”
“Extra potion lessons. Maybe enchantments and gem magic as well, if there’s time.”
“That sounds grand, your majesty.” His little eyes shone. “With who?” the shine dimmed a little. “Headmaster Fleetfoot?”
“No. With me.”
He boggled at me. “Wth you!?”
“Would you object to that?”
“No, no, your majesty ...as t’were … i mean … so ‘tis … you’d want to teach me?”
“I think you could benefit from a few lessons beyond what you’re learning in regular classes - to prevent anymore, ah, experimentations gone awry, if nothing else. You can try higher magics in a controlled environment with somepony who can undo anything untoward that may happen.” I winked at him.
“I … I …” He swallowed. “That sounds … amazing your majesty!”
“Good.” I stood and flexed my wings a little, resettling my feathers. “I shall make the necessary arrangements. You will be issued a new class schedule within the next few days. Until then, you are to return to classes and do your best. Are we clear?”
“Y-yes, your majesty!” He actually cocked a little salute at me before scurrying from the room.
I sighed before departing myself. In truth, the offer to tutor him had passed my lips with no real forethought. Rash decisions often led to disaster and I was already so busy - yet I could not bring myself to regret the action. There was something to that little colt; a spark I had not seem in a very long time.
A spark …
Something wormed around in the bottom of my mind. I pushed it away hurriedly and got to my feet.
Age 6: The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.
Pumpkin reflexively shoved his spectacles up the bridge of his snout as he peered over the scroll of the day.
“I will never understand why you favour pince-nez,” I remarked.
“Those framed glasses hurt my ears, so they do,” he replied affably, not taking his eyes from the neat line of hoofwriting. “And you say this was never finished?”
“Starswirl … had no time.” There was a lot of explanation behind my vagueness that I had no desire to go into. I still woke sometimes hearing his voice and seeing the ghostly afterimage of him bloody and stumbling around inside my war tent.
“Hmm.” Pumpkin tugged at his chin. He had no beard but the effect was the same. “Interesting. It’s almost … impossible, what he was trying to do.”
“Oh, I know.”
I laid my head on my crossed forelegs and regarded my former student. He had grown into a fine stallion, though never as bulky as his farmworking family. Decades of poring over books in the dancing light of a candles had not made for an especially physical lifestyle. He squinted myopically at the copy of Starswirl’s hornwriting, humming to himself in that way he always did when digging through his own thoughts to piece together a pattern that made sense of them all.
“Why bring it to me? Surely there have been ponies in the past who are far more talented with, ah, this kind of magic.”
I winced. “Just because you aren’t a unicorn doesn’t mean you aren’t one of the greatest magical minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“You flatter me,” he monotoned. “Hey!” He tumbled backwards under the cushion I had thrown at him. “That’s unfair, so it is! You caught me off guard!”
I laughed. It felt good. “You were becoming maudlin.”
Pumpkin harrumphed, readjusted his askew spectacles and returned to the scroll. He was clearly enthralled by the challenge I had set before him. Not even our setting or situation could distract him from the task.
I patted the mattress idly, as if testing its springiness. Long past were the days of straw filled beds and scratchy cloth. These days my bed smelled of wildflowers and was so stuffed with feathers I could have fashioned a new pair of alicorn wings from them and still had enough leftover for a battalion of pegasi.
A new pair of alicorn wings …
I stopped my patting and stared at my own hooves like they were the most interesting thing in the world.
“There’s … a way to finish this,” Pumpkin murmured. “If I could just … figure it out. Starswirl the Bearded wouldn’t half-write a spell that couldn’t be finished.” He lifted his gaze to me. “Would he?”
“Starswirl was not always understandable, even to me,” I shrugged. “I once heard him described as ‘possessing thoughts that circled in ever-decreasing loops within each other.’ That always struck me as very accurate for him.”
“Hmm. I prefer more straightforward folks, so I do.” Pumpkin pulled at his chin again. “Life’s complicated enough as ‘tis without adding obfuscation for the sake of it.”
“Indeed.” I ignored the voice in my head that cried out at me own deceitfulness.
Pumpkin’s jaw cracked a little at his expansive yawn. “Whoops, excuse me!”
“You’re excused. You know that you don’t have to solve the unsolvable spell in one night, right?”
“Oh I know.” He pushed his spectacles up again. “But this is fascinating, so it is. A spell like this could … well it could literally change a pony’s special talent! Change their whole destiny!”
“Mmm.” My hooftips were scuffed from rubbing against my golden shoes. I picked at a rough edge. “It could.”
“I mean … it’s not like I’m going to cast it blindly, as t’were,” Pumpkin said hastily. “But the possibilities are fascinating, so they are.”
“Mmm.”
“Imagine … a world where one’s cutie mark need not be a noose around one’s neck ... “
My head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“A pony with a break cutie mark need not be a baker all his life,” Pumpkin continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “A gem cutie mark need not consign a soul to working in dark mines the rest of their days. A pegasus with a ground-bound cutie mark may exchange it for one with wings, so they might! Or -”
“Or an earth pony with a magical cutie mark need not live the life of a hornless unicorn,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
His ears flicked back at me. “Well … yes, as t’were.”
“You still have regrets. Even after all these years, all you have learned, all you have achieved because of your cutie mark … you still regret it.”
He bowed his head. “I cannot lie to you, my princess.”
“Please. Don’t call me that when it’s just the two of us.” Mercifully I kept the crack from my voice. “If you had not gained your cutie mark … you would never have come to my school. We would never have met.”
He paused before replying, “I know.”
“And yet you still regret it?”
“Not entirely, Not anymore. I’m proud of what good I’ve done in the world and I’m aware I was only able to do that because of what’s on my rump, so I do.. But … I would have liked an option when I was a colt, so I would. It was hard … being the only one in my family not … ‘normal’.” He paused and I knew he was thinking about the empty reserved seats at his graduation ceremony. For some ponies it was just too hard to come to terms with a life that did not follow the patterns it had followed for generations. When Pumpkin spoke again, his voice was soft and wistful. “Sometimes I dream of tilling fields. I wake up and I could swear my fur is still flattened and sweat-drenched from wearing a yoke. But when I touch it …”
Silence rested between us, heavy and full of meaning either of us wanted to voice.
“I am sorry,” I said at last.
“No,” Pumpkin responded quickly. “Do not be sorry, my - ah, my Celestia. I may have regrets but you are surely not one of them, so you’re not.”
But I was never more aware than in that moment how much I couldn’t not replace the life he had lost. My wings flexed on their own accord. My gaze fell upon his bare shoulders, so often covered in a cape, now decorated only by a wisp of bedsheet. The expanse of his back that I could see looked … far too empty. Or maybe it was I who was far too empty.
Pumpkin let out a small noise of surprise when I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips to his. He tasted vaguely of mead from a long past dinner but as I explore his mouth I tasted something more: dreams and plans and crushing disappointment. When we broke apart we were both quite breathless.
He smiled up at me. I realised I had forced him onto his back, hiding the bare expanse. Starswirl’s scroll had rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Pumpkin’s face, framed by my own white hooves either side of him, creased into a familiar expression.
“If you wanted me to stop, ah, studying all you had to do was ask, as t’were.”
I laughed and bent to kiss him again.
“I do not regret you at all, my Celestia,” Pumpkin murmured into my ear as we moved together, becoming one in the pale moonlight coming through my chamber window. I revelled in the sensations he awoke within my body and my heart, even as the latter broke at his words.
“Stay with me,” I whispered desperately. A ragged gasp caught in my throat, swallowed moments later by his kiss. The rest of what I wanted to say disappeared into his mouth. Stay with me forever. Be more than just a mortal. Be by my side forever. You’ve come such a long, long way. Let me give you wings so you can stay with me.
“Yes,” he replied to the wrong thing. “I’ll stay. My sweet Celestia, I’ll stay with you.”
The cry I let out mingled with his, but as we collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat-drenched hair, the echo of mine sounded more like crying than passion.
Court was boring most days. I am aware that it is not proper for a ruler to say such things about her own subjects but the fact of the matter is that perusing legislation in exhaustive detail, mediating endless land and other ownership disputes amongst the populace, perusing the same legislation as last time with minor alterations, arbitrating grain levies and playing nice with foreign dignitaries who would snap the spine of Equestria in a heartbeat if I showed so much as a hitn of weakness …. Well, it could get very, very wearing on a pony after a while, even an alicorn.
One might think that the interruptions provided by galas, banquets and formal balls might alleviate this tedium but the even harsher truth was that ‘social’ occasions were often anything but. I sometimes wondered when I had allowed affairs that were meant to be enjoyable become just another version of courtly duties. It must have seemed like a good idea at the time. At least the ponies around me who got to dress up and pretend to like cucumber sandwiches seemed to be having a good time.
“You know, you don’t have to stand next to me all evening,” I murmured softly, my words nearly lost beneath the swell of music from the bandstand.
“I know.” Purple Pumpkin shot me a look that spoke a thousand words. “I just want to, so I do.”
“You should go out and enjoy yourself at the Gala.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Of course I am.”
His smile said ‘liar’ so loudly he did not need to give it voice.
“I have to stay here and greet the patrons,” I argued. “You have no such responsibility. I’m sure you’d much rather be dancing or something.”
“Dancing? Me?” he snorted.
“Given you are not permitted to retreat to your chambers to look over those dusty scrolls of yours, yes.”
He puffed out his lips in an adorable little moue. “I could be doing so much more good there than here, so I could.”
“That I do not doubt, yet we have appearances to keep up, Pumpkin. Your presence as my personal protege is required at the Grand Galloping Gala.” I nodded at the swirling crowd. “Your presence glued to my side, however, is not. Go. Mix a little. Enjoy yourself.”
“I’m perfectly fine here, thank you.”
“Pumpkin …”
He glared at the crowd. Tiny creases bracketed his eyes and the corners of his mouth. They became more pronounced in side profile. I wondered with a start when those has appeared. A small ball of tension screwed tight in my stomach. Pumpkin was getting older.
My wings twitched acccustorially. I forced myself to look away.
“Purple Pumpkin,” I said evenly. “As your mentor and princess I order you to go and mingle with the other partygoers.”
“What? I -”
“I order it, Pumpkin. Go.”
For a moment he stared at me in shock. Then, noticeably dragging his hooves, he descended the main staircase and merged into the crowd.
I released the breath I had been holding. Was I hoping he would defy me? Pumpkin? No.
And yet …
“Your majestyyyyy!” As if by magic the dignitary from Minos appeared before me. The enormous minotaur proffered one of two drinks in my direction and I politely accepted it into my telekinetic field.
“Lord Glaive.”
“Quite a shindig you’ve thrown here.” He settled into Pumpkin’s place. I tamped down my irritation and smiled benignly at him.
“Would that I could take all the credit but the Royal Master of Ceremonies is the true genius whose work you see laid before you.”
“Mmm, a chap named Puddinghorse, yes?”
“Puddinghead, actually.”
Lord Glaive threw back his head in a laugh. Minotaur emotions were always so big and loud. Everything about minotaurs was big and loud. I remembered with consternation our meeting the previous afternoon about trade agreements that had ended with him shouting about ponies thinking they were worth more than any other race because I would not undervalue our grain exports.
“Puddinghead? That’s even better!”
“The Puddingheads are a renowned family in Equestrian high society.” I eyed my glass but decided against sipping it. “Their line dates right back to the Unification.”
Lord Glaive nodded. “Good to keep track of family lines. Keeps from letting bad apples into the barrel.”
Given what I had heard of minotaur society’s attitude to ‘bad apples’ I chose to say nothing.
“Well, give Puddinghead my praise.” Lord Glaive swallowed his entire glass in one gulp. “Pretty good. Champagne’s not really my thing. Give me a good mead any day.” He shrugged. “One of these days you’ll have to come to Minos and try our Ouzo, princess. The king would be delighted to receive you.”
“Perhaps, Lord Glaive. There are many matters in Equestria that demand my attention before I may depart its borders. Until then, my diplomats and ambassadors do a fine job.”
Lord Glaive shrugged like he could not care less that I had rebuffed the offer. “There will always be matters demanding the attention of the ruler when she rules alone, princess.”
I did not reply.
“King Midas looks forward to the day he can send a royal wedding gift to Equestria.” He looked into his glass as if more champagne might have appeared. “Or perhaps a birthing gift.”
His sidelong look did not escape my notice.
“Perhaps, Lord Glaive,” I gritted, wanting nothing more in that moment than to pick him up with my magic and hurl him back onto the boat that had brought him here.
The rest of the conversation passed in a haze of niceties and hollow words that culminated in Lady Glaive fetching her husband for a dance. Seeing the tiny minotaur cow drag her husband away with an iron grip when he clearly wished to stay with me was heartening.
I scanned the party. Everypony - no, everyone, I corrected myself, spying several other dignitaries in the crowd - was having what appeared to be a good time. Lord Puddinghead himself was in the bandstand, a trumpet pressed to his lips. His feathered hat bounced jauntily. He was a darn sight more handsome than his ancestor - and had more brains too. That he had chosen to turn them to party-planning did not diminish his intellect one iota. As I watched, he tossed the trumpet into the air, spun in a pirouette, caught it and continued playing, purple mane bobbing in perfect rhythm.
Purple...
My eyes sought Purple Pumpkin out without permission. I almost cursed them when they found him. He was not in the middle of the dancefloor but somewhat to the edge, a circle of irritated partygoers giving him and his dancing partner a wide berth. I recognised the pretty white mare as Writing Desk, a usually demure daughter of the Minister of Finance. Her face was a mask of delight it never usually wore as she stood on her hind hooves and moved jerkily to the music. She danced like a pony who had never done so before but the sheer enjoyment in her every movement was almost palpable. And beside her, dancing only marginally better, Pumpkin was … smiling at her.
I looked away, a lump in my throat, and when the ambassador from Griffinstone hailed me I greeted her with far too much enthusiasm.
Wedding bells tolled throughout Canterlot. It was not every day that the Royal Vizier got married, after all. Master of Ceremonies Puddinghead had outdone himself on the celebrations. Canterlot would likely never see such a joyous event again.
At least, not in his lifetime.
He stood at the back of the Royal Hall, the only room big enough to hold all the invited guests. A crowd of earth ponies in muted colours stood closest to the front, a stark contrast to the clutch of white unicorn’s on the bride’s side of the aisle. Both families looked equally proud, however. Puddinghead and his daughters corralled everypony into their places with aplomb. The girls were as born to parties as their father. Well, aside from the eldest, who stared at the walls like the stonework was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Nonetheless, she did her part and soon everypony was ready.
I played my part perfectly. I had memorised the words many years ago and they had never gotten stuck in my throat before. Writing Desk looked lovely in her mother’s dress and Pumpkin …
He had come to my chambers the night before - just to talk. I had prohibited anything intimate between us since the Gala. he had asked for my blessing.
“A little late, isn’t it?” I had joked. “You are set to marry her on the morrow. I shall not withhold my blessing at this stage.”
“Would you have before?” Pumpkin had asked me.
“Of course not!”
His sad smile had said ‘liar’ so loudly he did not need to give it voice.
When he kissed his bride I joined the rest of the congregation in applause. I followed the procession as we had rehearsed. During the wedding feast I ate and drank and was merry with the ponies around me. I even stamped my feet in applause when the new husband and wife took to the floor in their first dance.
And when it was time to raise the moon, I departed from the ongoing party to stand on the highest balcony Canterlot had to offer. I watched the bright disc bearing my sister’s distorted face raise into the sky and I sobbed as I wished I could tear off my own wings, plunge from the tower and die as a mortal.
I stood at the bedside in uncomfortable golden shoes and sank my attention into every pained molecule in my hooves. If I concentrated on my hooves, I reasoned in that unreasonable way ponies do in an impending crisis, that meant I could not be expected to focus too closely on the situation around me. The sight before me. The pony before me.
Pumpkin’s breathing hitched. “It fair makes me weep to have you look everywhere but at me, so it does.” His raspy voice, weak as a newborn kitten’s, nonetheless echoed in the room. “Am I that revolting a sight, Celestia?”
“Never.” I raised my gaze, taking in his withered body, sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. More clumps of thing fur had fallen out around his ears. It sat on the pillow, accusatory.
“Liar,” he laughed wheezily. “It also amazes me how you can lie so well to political figures and yet so badly to me.”
“I don’t lie badly. You just know me better than they do.”
His head jerked in an approximation of a nod. “That I do, I suppose.”
Eighty two years. It wasn’t enough time. To be honest, several lifetimes would not be enough time together.
“Will you miss me, Celestia?”
The question caught me off guard. “What a thing to ask!”
“And yet here I am, asking it anyway. Will you?”
“Of course I will, Pumpkin.”
“I rather think your memories of me shall fade over time, so I do.” He was smiling as he said it. I did not return the expression.
“Poppycock. I will remember you for the rest of my life.”
I think the shuffle of shoulders under the bedclothes was meant to be a shrug. It was hard to tell. Every so often tremors would run through his body like tiny shocks from that electricity the scientists in Van Hoofer were experimenting with. Pumpkin had been fascinated with ‘alternating currents’ since he first heard about them and made many trips to the laboratories that he said were going to change pony society for the better someday.
“Pumpkin.” I raised one horseshoe, paused for a moment, and then removed it with a flare of my horn. His hoof felt paper-fragile in mine. Gently, scared I would hurt him, I stroked the back of it the way I had done for years. Another tremor ran through him. “I will remember you forever.”
“Forever is a long time, Celestia, so it is.” He fixed me with one rheumy eye. The other was milky white but moved in my direction anyway. “Nopony can be expected to remember a whole lifetime of recollections forever. Not even you.” His mouth quirked. “Sun goddess.”
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“To you I am and will always be just Celestia.”
“You’re never just anything, Celestia.” Pumpkin paused as if thinking. “For a long time … you were my everything. I thought I would pull down the stars from the star and gift them to you if you’d asked me to. Whatever you’d have asked of me, I would have done for you.”
My chest lurched.
“Do you remember when you showed my Starswirl’s unfinished cutie mark magic?”
The lurch deepened into my stomach, where it felt like acid was eating my heart. “Yes?”
Pumpkin chuckled wryly. “Never did figure that stuff out. Always meant to go back to it but … well, there was always something more important to attend to, as t’were.”
I swallowed. “Nopony could fault you for what you chose to focus on. I hear nearly all of Van Hoofver owns at least one light bulb now. The candlemaker guild is quite vexed. Their representative comes to court at least twice a week to vent that I need to squash the threat to his industry.”
“Tell him to make his guild start marketing scented candles. Light bulbs are marvellous for turning night to day but the filaments smell like a burning dungheap.” Pumpkin coughed. His thin chest rose and fell more rapidly beneath the sheets. “Celestia … I don’t have much time left.”
“Don’t say that,” I replied quickly, though I knew it was true.
“Let me speak. Please.” He stared at me so hard that it rendered me silent. “I did not understand why you gave me that spell at the time. It took me a long time to hear the request you kept not saying.”
No no no no -
“And once I understood … I kept waiting for you to ask me. And waiting. And waiting. For years, I waited for you to ask. But you never did.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry as a desert. “I … I did try. Several times.”
“But?”
“But each time … I thought about what your answer might be.”
“And the thought of that stilled your tongue?”
The lack of his usual verbal tics made me stutter. “Y-yes.”
“You were so afeared of rejection you did not ask at all?”
“Partially.”
“Partially?”
“I … did not want to inflict this life on you.” My wings twitched open slightly. “This burden.”
“Oh my Celestia.” Pumpkin’s one good eye softened and his hoof turning upward in my grasp, holding me as tight as he was able.
For a moment my heart lifted back into my chest, still dripping acid but spurred on by hope.
“As I said, whatever you’d have asked of me, I would have done for you.”
“You would have done it.” I paused. “But would you have wanted to do it?”
“And therein lies the rub. I would have done whatever you wanted me to do because you wanted me to do it.” His gaze sharpened, becoming the incisive look I knew of old. “Even become an alicorn.” He nodded at my expression. “So. I was indeed correct. Until this very moment part of me wondered if it was even possible.”
“It … it is possible,” I whispered.
“At what cost though?”
“It is not dark magic. No sacrifices or blood pacts or selling your soul. Alicornhood is earned. Anypony can become one if they prove themselves worthy enough in the presence of a pre-existing alicorn. The magic is ancient - far more ancient than I - but benign.” My chin dipped. “But there is still a cost. Outliving those you love most. Being a stone lodged in place in the river of time. Seeing everypony carry on without you. Having a responsibility thrust upon you that does not care whether you wanted it or not.”
“You have regrets.”
“Don’t we all?”
A little laugh whooped past his lips. “That we do.” He shifted his gaze to the ceiling, his focus somewhere beyond it. “I … am not sure I could have coped with such regrets as well as you.”
“But you would have let me ascend you into alicornhood regardless.”
“I loved you, Celestia. Adored you. Worshipped you. Not as the Sun Goddess, but for being you: the kind, generous, funny, witty, honest, desirable mare you are down to your core.” He sighed. “But … over time … as I kept waiting for you to ask me that question … to give Starswirl’s scrolls back to me … I began to realise that might not be enough. I once heard one of those playwrights in Trottingham say that hate is merely love with its back turned. I realised that my love for you, however strong, would not be enough to sustain me through eternity on its own. I realised I had no other reason for wishing to ascend other than to be with you and because you wanted me to ascend. And … that is not a good enough reason to commit oneself to eternity. There needs to be more reasons for a pony to make that choice.”
I nodded. Tears beaded at the corners of my eyes but everything he said held true.
“I realised that I am better suited to mortality. Your memories of me, for as long as you retain them, will be of me loving you. I will be immortalised that way. Well, that and my literary legacy, as t’were. I appreciate the dedicated section in the royal library, by the way.”
I smiled. A tear slid past the corner of my mouth. I tasted salt but kept up that rigid smile. “You are most welcome. Your work has become the backbone for so many avenues of research that I could do nothing less.”
“Ironic. So much magical and technological advancement because of a little earth pony who should have grown up a farmer working the fields.” Pumpkin closed his eyes and smiled. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“You will be remembered, Pumpkin.” I held his hoof tighter. “I will not ever forget you. Not ever.”
“Thank you.” His breathing lengthened. Each breath seemed to rattle a little more in his chest. “Thank you … for not asking me that question now. Thank you for not making me say no to you on my deathbed. I’ve lived a good life, Celestia. I’m proud of what I’m leaving behind. Everypony has regrets but I like to think I have fewer than most.” He turned his head and looked at me, though clearly the effort was become greater with each passing second. “You will find somepony someday who is better suited to ascension, Celestia. Somepony whose whole focus is not you and pleasing you alone. Somepony who values friendship and love and learning in equal measure. Somepony whose ascension would be beneficial to all Equestria, to you and to him or herself.” His grip slackened. “I … love … you … my … Celesssssssssss …”
I stayed at that bedside for a long time. Eventually I placed Pumpkin’s limp foreleg across his chest, placed my golden horseshoes back on my feet and left to tell the nurses that it was time.
“Goodbye, Purple Pumpkin,” I murmured. “I … hope you’re right.”
Age 7: Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
I stood on my balcony and stared at the near-full moon high in the night sky. Tomorrow night it would wax completely full. However, tomorrow night the pitted facsimilar of a face on its surface would be absent.
A thousand years. Had it really been a thousand years? So much had changed since the last time I saw a moon that did not bear the mark of my own failure.
On that auspicious occasion I had decided to take leave of everypony in my court and spend some time alone with my thoughts. So much had be set in motion already that I felt the need for room to breathe before all my plans came to fruition - or failure, as was still very much a possibility. Raven was a good assistant. Sometimes she was hard to look at, such was her resemblance to her ancestor Writing Desk, but she could hold down the fort while I collected my thoughts.
The breeze was cold against my face. I closed my eyes and turned my face into it. It was nights like this I missed glamouring myself as a mere pegasus and going for a night flight over the Everfree. I hadn’t done that in a long time. There always seemed to be something requiring my attention that absolutely, positively could not be put off until later. Even an army of royal assistants could not insulate me from the responsibilities of ruling for more than a few hours at a time.
I sighed. One thousand years. The number has seemed interminable at first but now I stood on the cusp of the final morning and I … was not sure if I was ready. I had set into motion all I could think of to safeguard my little ponies while also healing my poor sister and returning her to me as she once was. Right now Twilight Sparkle, my latest student, was in Ponyville meeting with ponies I hoped would be suitable candidates to wield the Elements of Harmony. They seemed to embody the various attributes necessary, plus after extensive investigations into their histories they all seemed to be good ponies. Twilight herself I did not doubt would do her best to achieve the most optimal outcome. Her nature was rather bookish and a little too introverted but she had an inner strength I had seen only a few times in my long life. Something in her chimed with a part of my soul I had not heard in … well, in far too long. Since before Equestria made peace with its political enemies; before my beloved school was broken into factions while I brokered that peace in distant lands; since before the council ate its own tail and collapsed, only to be born anew as the Equestrian Parliament. Decades had passed like eyeblinks, it seemed, and yet they had also crawled by, allowing me to absorb my triumphs and tragedies in excruciating detail. So much had been done and yet there was still so much to do.
Would I get the chance to do it all?
Would I continue to shape our nation alone from my pedestal of memories?
Thoughts of the future dominated my mind tonight. When I pushed them aside, however, thoughts of the past rushed to take their place. It seemed I was caught in an unending nexus of ‘never was’, ‘never will be’ and tentatively hopeful ‘maybes’ that grew only more insistent as the minutes ticked by.
Luna…
The sudden detonation of magic behind me was almost welcome in its distraction. When I turned to see the cause, however, I did not welcome it at all.
“Celes … tia…” Starswirl stumbled towards me, dripping blood, his beard and cloak stained angry red in far too many places.
I dived forward to catch him as he crumpled like a puppet with all its strings cut. “Starswirl!” He weighed practically nothing. He was so old, so thin and sickly looking. I immediately thought of that long ago time with the bear prince and my confusion of his departing words abated.
“I will be there … at the end … I promise you.”
At the end of a thousand years of waiting. All this time and he had not forgotten. “Starswirl, old friend, can you hear me?” His breathing was shallow and when I felt his pulse it flickered under my magic. “I shall fetch a doctor, you must -”
“No …” His hoof shot out and grasped mine much tighter than I expected. “This is as it should be.” His eyes when they met mine were bright and alert, albeit full of pain at his injuries. “I’m full of manticore poison, Celestia, and half of my guts rotted away long ago on the floor of the Everfree Forest. I know I’m dying. Medical science has improved much in this time but not enough for me. This is the when and where I have chosen for my end. Here, with you, so you aren’t alone as you wait for the dawn.”
“Starswirl.” A lump caught in my throat. This was hardly the first death of a loved one I had ever endured but it cut deeper than any other. Even Purple Pumpkin has not hurt this much. I had known his end was nearing for weeks before it came and had made use of the time to make my peace with it. This was an unexpected blow. “Can I at least make you more comfortable?”
“I’m as comfortable as I’m going to be, girl.” He coughed, flecking me with red. I did not care. I cradled him like a nursing foal, heedless of the mess he made of my regalia. “H-how long … until the dawn now? Did I … did I make it in time?”
I tried to swallow. “Mere minutes. The time is nearly up. Luna will return soon and I …”
“You will not face her yet,” Starswirl said softly. “First … your student and her … h-her f-friends will … will meet her in Ponyville. But not you. You will see her when she ...is Luna … again …”
I gasped. “She will not be the Nightmare when I see her?”
Starswirl smiled. “I have … seen it … in my travels ...”
Joy blossomed in my heart unlike anything I had ever thought I could feel again. Luna - the true Luna - was going to come back to me. I could hardly believe it.
“Why did you not tell me this before?”
“Because … what has happened … must happen no matter what I … d-do … time is not … is not …” He closed his eyes.
“Starswirl?” Joy ceded to desperation. “Starswirl!?”
“I’m not … dead … y-yet,” he wheezed. “My molecules … all scrambled from time-shifting … when I go … no body … I’ll become one w-with … with the t-timestream …” He smiled as if at some private joke. “And then I shall know all its secrets at l-last …”
The world broke apart into wet fragments. I felt the tears pour down my cheeks. I was no longer sure who or what they were for. I held my oldest, dearest friend and choked down my sobs. “I’m sorry, Starswirl. I’ve made so many mistakes in these thousand years - ”
“Pshaw. You made the mistakes you were meant to. Even one thing different and this m-moment right n-now might not have happened.” He opened his eyes and stared piercingly at me. “And this moment … this moment is … what was meant to … m-meant t-to …”
On the other side of my chambers the grandfather clock began to chime the hour. A bright white light shone through the open window. I heard an echoing laughter, cruel and mocking, that I had last heard a millenia ago.
“I’m coming, sister dear!”
“Do not give up hope, Celestia.” Starswirl’s breathing hitched and slowed. His horn ignited. I felt myself lift off the floor and was surprised when the dark shadow riding into the room on a beam of moonlight screamed in anger.
“No! She is mine! I have waited too long for this!”
“You cannot have her, Nightmare. I am hiding her where shadows dare not go for fear of being snuffed out of existence.” His eyes met mine one last time. “In the heart of the sun itself.”
The Nightmare’s voice laughed. “You think you hide her but I will chain her to the sun so she can never be free of her hiding place - just as she bound me to the moon! Enjoy your exile, dear sister. Only you will ever see the sun again.”
“So you think, Nightmare.” Starswirl grunted and slipped from my grasp. His hooves dissolved into glowing pinpricks of light. Each pinprick darted away, becoming lost in the shadows filling my room. “My time has come. Goodbye Celestia. Goodbye, Luna.”
“You dare call me by that name!” screeched the darkness.
Starswirl exploded into white light. For an instant the room was as bright as day. The curtain next to the window blew back, revealing a much younger bearded face, expression a mask of horror. His horn was already glowing to whisk him away from this time and place. I caught a glimpse of slitted turquoise eyes in the shrieking shadows before the world became nothing but heat and fire and the peace of oblivion.
I approach the balcony slowly. Luna sits in a patch of shade given by a potted tree. I have sometimes brought my desk out here and used that shade myself. It never seemed enough for my purposes but seems to swallow Luna’s tiny body. I don’t remember her being that … small when last we were together.
Then again, the very last time we were together she was tall, obsidian-coated and trying to kill me.
Even so, her diminutive stature is new. Her mane and tail hang limp and lank, composed of mere hair. Her coat does not glisten with starshine. When the Elements of Harmony burned Nightmare Moon out of her with the Light of True Friendship, it seems they left little behind. Luna’s own magic was so entwined with the Nightmare’s that it, too, was burned away, leaving in its wake this doll-like child-princess instead of the once-proud Sovereign Ruler of the Night.
She hears my hoofsteps. Her ears flick in my direction but she does not turn around. She waits for me to come to her. I choose to think it is not an unspoken challenge, as it might once have been. Luna’s stooped shoulders and unwillingness to meet my eye are born of regret and shame, not rebellion.
“Luna, it’s very hot out this afternoon. It’s the middle of summer, after all. Won’t you come inside?”
“Thou dost speaketh as the common folk, dear sister,” Luna says quietly. “Thy meaning remaineth clear to our ears but thy tongue doth wrap itself around thine words with the aplomb of one much lower-born than thee.”
“Equestrian has evolved as a language since you’ve been gone. Speaking like this makes me more approachable to our subjects.”
Her nose wrinkles a little. “Not ours, dear sister. Thine.”
“Ours,” I reply firmly. “And I mean both of us, not the royal ‘our’. They never stopped being yours as well as mine.”
“We … I …. do not deserve to rule over anypony.” Luna gulps audibly but swallows the sudden onset of emotion. Or maybe she simply hates using singulars instead of royal plurals. Nonetheless, I watch her eyes glitter from the corner of my own. “I did squander that right when I did take up the mantle of darkness and the helm of fear.”
“That’s in the past, Luna. I have forgiven you.”
“That is folly!” Her shout echoes off the brickwork. It is a good thing I informed the guards of the castle not to interfere if they heard raised voices. I can more than handle Luna in her weakened state. This is no Nightmare Moon I am facing now.
I had hoped our conversation would remain civil but … I am done pretending I know my own sister as well as I thought I did. A thousand years ago I chose to believe what I wanted about Luna. I chose to think I knew her hopes and dreams, her thought processes and her opinions better than she did. My arrogance left her vulnerable to the insidious darkness that stole her from me for hundreds of lifetimes. I thought I knew best back then. I harbour no such vanity now. This time I will not acknowledge only the parts of her that appeal to me. I will accept her whole, as she is, all her beauty and ugliness, all her strengths and weaknesses, not just as I want her to be.
So I do not raise my voice in return to her. I do not turn and walk away, calling her behaviour unfit for a princess, as I might have done when I was young and foolish. Instead, softly, I ask: “Why do you think that, Luna?”
“I did endeavour to slay thee!” Luna snaps as if I am being particularly stupid. “I did attempt to usurp thine place and add it to mine own. I did wish to douse thy mighty sun and claim its place with my own moon, no matter the cost to our ponies or our country.” Luna bites her lip, still unable to look directly at me. “I am unfit to rule.”
“Do you think you would ever do it again?”
Though turned from me, I can tell that her expression is one of pure horror. “Nay! Never again!”
“Then you are fit to rule, Luna. Nopony is perfect. We all make mistakes. It’s how we deal with them and learn from them that makes us who and what we are.” I stare out at the distant mountains and the undulating green of the Everfree Forest. It is a pretty place from a distance, though its wildness up close is to be respected more than admired. “I have had a thousand years to learn that lesson. Truthfully, I had to learn it a few times. I made many mistakes while you were gone, Luna. I regret a lot of them. Some still hurt to think about - and probably will for the rest of my life - but each one shaped me into the kind of ruler …” I trail off. “No, into the kind of pony I am today. Equestria is prosperous. Its denizens are happy and safe. Each new generation makes it a better place. Yet none of them are perfect and I would not wish for them to be so. Our imperfections, our mistakes, our tragedies and our triumphs all contribute to the tapestry of our lives. And a tapestry made up of only one colour thread would be a very boring thing.”
Luna shifts her shoulders, her head still drooping but her ears pricked. “Thou art … so much older than I now, dear sister. So much the wiser than I. For thee … a thousand years did pass … but for me ‘twas was but the blink of an eye since last we ill-met by moonlight.” She winces at her own words. “Thy will hath endured the tests of time and softened to forgiveness but … mine own wounds do remain fresh. I do see myself with eyes clear as morning dew where before they were clouded as … a stormy night. I do behold mine own failures, my own frailties and … and I do not possess strength enough to forgive myself for what I have done to thee and to thy … our ponies.”
“It will come in time, Luna.”
“I wouldst pray that thou art correct, dear sister, but there remaineth a part of me that doth wish for naught but censure and continued punishment for crimes committed by mine own hoof.”
“A millennia away from Equestria is punishment enough, I think, and though I wish you wouldn’t, I think you’ve lavishing enough censure on yourself that nopony else need add to it.” I want so badly to nuzzle her and give her the physical comfort that should go along with my words. That short embrace in the ruins of our old home was not nearly enough. “Self-flagellation may seem like a good idea but it won’t help you to become a better pony. Though it might seem like a good idea, heaping punishment upon yourself won’t change the past and will only change your future for the worse.”
Luna hunches. “We shall see, dear sister.”
“Luna, would you please answer me one question?”
She stiffens, clearly expecting the worst. “O-of course.”
“Why won’t you use my name?”
Tension hangs thick in the air. “I … know not of which thou doth speak.”
“Yes you do. Ever since Twilight and her friends brought me back to you, and you to me, you’ve called me ‘dear sister’ and nothing else. Why?”
Luna swallows audibly. “I … have missed thee. I wish to … re-establish our sisterly bond …”
She can tell I’m not buying it.
“Tell me the truth, Luna. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I refused to listen to you a thousand years ago. I will not do so again - not ever. Not even if what you have to say to me is something you think will anger or hurt me.”
“I … it is difficult to … be so familiar with thee now.” Luna pauses. I don’t press her to go on but eventually she does anyway. “Thou hath grown, both in body and mind. Thou doth possess such wisdom and thou art so much more majestic and regal than the pony I knew before my … translation unto darkness. When I do look upon thee I do not see Celestia, the pony who did tease me as a filly and carry me upon her back as a mewling foal. I do address thee as sister to remind myself that this … be what you are to me.”
My heart clenches. “Oh Luna...”
“Mine heart did house such envy for thee a thousand years hence. I could not bear for it to do so again. Thou art my dear sister. I do not ever wish to forget that in favour of the dark thoughts that did once plague me.” She sniffs. “They were not all the Nightmare’s. They did begin as my own. My own jealousy and … petty hatred that did grow to become its full-fledged cousin.” She gulps wetly and pauses before continuing. “I am … afraid. I am afraid that the soil within this heart and mind of mine is still nourishing to such terrible thoughts. That I shall begin to see thee once again as my superior … not as family.”
“That will not happen.” I clomp my hoof down sternly, making her jump. “You say I’m so much wiser now but so are you, Luna! Listen to yourself! Would the old Luna from a thousand years ago be second-guessing herself like this? Would she be examining her own thoughts and feelings with this level of maturity? No, she would not. But you are because you’ve grown Luna. You’ve been changed by your experiences and you’re changing still. You’re not the pony you once were. None of us are. You won’t slide backwards into old habits or old grievances because we’ve both matured and learned from what happened last time. Neither of us will let the other slip.”
“Thou wouldst be mine guardian?”
“If you’ll be mine. I treated you terribly, Luna. I didn’t act like your sister. I acted like an an arrogant fool and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t see how you were feeling or help you deal with your insecurities. But this is not that time anymore, Luna. Things will be different this time.”
“Thou doth speak with such conviction.”
“Warranted conviction. We’ll look after each other, Luna.” I extend a wing, letting it hover over her shrunken back. “I … I need you, Luna. I can’t do this alone. What kept me going these past thousand years was the thought of seeing you again. I need you … dear sister.”
With something like a sigh, she leans back into my wing’s embrace. I close it around her, holding her close to me. She is stiff at first, but softens and finally melts against my side in a hug I have waited a millennia to enjoy.
“I missed you, Luna.”
“I did miss thee also, Celestia.”
My smile is so bright, it could be mistaken for the sun itself.
Nopony ever told me metal shoes are so itchy. I expected callouses, pinching, even the metal to be too cold but it’s the itching that bothers me most. I suppose I’ll get used to it eventually but right now I just want to tear the stupid things off and scratch.
Except that scratching isn’t very princessly and … I am a princess.
Me.
A princess.
I am a princess.
And not just any princess either. I’m an alicorn princess. To say that’s a little hard to take on board is like saying Twilight kind of likes books. It’s been years since I got my horn and some mornings I still jerk back in surprise at the sight of it in the mirror. Or maybe that’s the bedhead. It can be really frightening; like the ghosts of hamsters fighting in a half-chewed burlap sack.
Right now, though, I’m pristine and coiffed and waiting like a good little pony. Not one hair is out of place, which is kind of impressive, given how much of it i have. I need to remember to get a gift basket for my ladies-in-waiting. I don’t know what they did with that manespray and coat polish but i look pretty damn good today. I catch sight of myself in a suit of armour and can’t help letting the glance turn into a little stare. I barely recognise myself anymore. Where the heck did that rough and tumble pegasus filly go?
The doors clatter. I snap to attention as much as the guards around me. For a moment I miss Shining Armour more than ever. He’s on a tour of duty at the border between Equestria and Griffinstone and I know he can’t come back just because I’m nervous of meeting … her. Even so, I want him here so bad that a half-remembered teleportation spell Twilight once showed me creeps into my mind.
Aunt Celestia appears in the doorway. She prefers me to call her that even though we’re not blood related. She subscribes to that ‘family is not just blood’ thing and I can’t say I blame her. She looks regal, like always. I bet her shoes never itch. She’s way too poised to ever have a mini panic attack about … well, anything. As she comes towards me I realise I’m holding my breath. Hopefully she won’t notice the whoosh it makes when I let it go.
“Cadence,” she says warmly. “Thank you for coming.”
“It is an honour, your majesty,” I say woodenly, like I learned my lines. Which, well, I kind of did.
I can tell she knows it, too. She gives me that smile she used to give me during our lessons when she knew I was lying about having done my homework. “So formal,” she chides.
I wilt. “Sorry. I just … it’s all a bit much, y’know?”
She nods. Boy, I bet she knows better than anyone else.
“Sorry!” I would smack my own forehead if I wasn’t pretty sure the stupid metal shoe would knock me out. “Of course you know. You were there. I mean … I just … I never expected to ....”
“Breathe, Cadence.” The barest hint of a laugh. I am instantly soothed. How does she do that? I need to learn how, stat.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re nervous. That’s understandable. It’s not every day a figure from childhood legend comes to life and comes to live in your castle.”
I nod. “To be honest, Auntie … calling it ‘my castle’ is still pretty surreal too.” My wings flutter anxiously. “I’m still not sure why the magic chose me.”
“Equestria’s very fabric is made up of magic, Cadence. Sometimes it works in mysterious ways that not even I, with all my years of experience, can fathom.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Are you ready?”
“No.” I take a breath. Let it out slowly. “But I’m not getting any readier so I guess now is as good a time as any.”
“It’s going to be fine.”
I make a noise that was meant to be assent but sounds more like someone strangling a weasel with a trumpet. Why do so many of my inner thoughts about myself involve violence to small fuzzy animals? That can’t be a good sign. Can it?
Aunt Celestia laughs. “Come along. She’s waiting in my chambers.”
“Meep.”
“I have a feeling she’s going to like you.”
“I’m glad you think that.” Because I am about to soil myself in a very unprincessly way.
We go to her chambers. I recognise the study from our lessons but we don’t stop there. Instead, we go through to the little antechamber I used to think of as the reading nook. There has always been a tray of tea and cake on the little table in there for as long as I have been here. This time is no exception. What is different is the alicorn sitting by it. Instead of Celestia’s tall, regal figure I am confronted by a stunted little blue pony whose wings and horn as way, way smaller than mine. I’m so startled that I stop and gape. This can’t be Nightmare Moon. Standing up, she wouldn’t even reach my shoulder!
The filly - she must be a filly - looks up from the book she has spread out across literally her entire lap and then some. Her eyes … she doesn’t have the eyes of a regular filly. They look old and wise and so, so sad that I want to take a step back. I probably would, except Aunt Celestia is behind me and I’d crash into her. The filly’s eyes are ancient, just like Celestia’s.
“P-Princess Luna?” I stutter, because there’s no doubt who this is.
“Ah. You must be Cadence.” Her voice is old too - not scratchy or anything, but full of something I can’t put a name to that makes me think she knows way more than she could ever put into words for someone like me to understand. She closes the book, puts it to one side using her hooves and hops off her seat. I was right. She has to look up at me as she comes closer. “We are pleased to make thy acquaintance.”
“Um … me too. Uh, to you,” I hastily add. Great, Cadence, a wonderful first impression there. “I am - we are, uh, please to … thy … it’s …” I drop to one knee. “Nice to meet you?”
I hear Luna chuckle. I’m staring too hard at the floor to look up at her and see her expression. “Thou art correct, Celestia. We … I do like her.”
“Told you,” Celestia says smugly. “Ah, I see Juniper brought up the tray already. Shall I serve? We have a lot to talk about, after all, and talking over cold tea is beastly.”
I’m welcomed into the nook and take my favourite comfy seat. Celestia floats a cup of steaming hot tea over to me but I watch Luna accept hers with her hooves.
Her … bare hooves.
She catches me looking and smiles, nodding her head to the little pile of glittering metal behind her seat.
“Pretty but uncomfortable,” Celestia chimes in, holding her own teacup and a large slice of cake in her magic as she prises her own shoes off her feet and tosses them into the pile with a happy sigh. “Sometimes a princess must look the part but sometimes … a princess just has to be a pony.”
Without her finery, she looks softer. She’s still tall and beautiful and impressive as all get out, but she is just Auntie Celestia, not Princess of the Sun. She is ... yeah. Just a pony.
I smile as I take off my own shoes and throw them in the pile.
Maybe I can handle this princess thing after all.
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
