Celestia likes her routine. Tax reforms, grants, laws and construction projects are all a princess needs to be content. It's just her luck that for Pinkie Pie, "content" is not nearly enough.
Celestia likes her routine. Tax reforms, grants, laws and construction projects are all a princess needs to be content.
It's just her luck that for Pinkie Pie, "content" is not nearly enough.
“For the reasons stated above, the city of Los Pegasus feels that a general tax lift in accordance with the attached forms and figures would be justified. As Mayor, I feel it is my duty to forward these concerns, while also thanking the Royal Administration Office for fair dealings in the past. Sincerely yours, Golden Chip.”
Golden Chip. The name didn’t match any of the innumerable faces in her head. Perhaps because the last time she checked, the mayor of Los Pegasus was a stallion by a completely different name? Yet another reason to snap this case up from the secretaries of her administrative office. One could call it refamiliarization. There were precious few outstanding justice matters anyway, so it was only natural to move on to taxes—despite her staff’s protests.
She allowed herself a private smirk. Being princess meant nopony called you out on ignoring polite protests when you stole their work. It made up for the fact that the crown was itchy.
Being princess also meant lowering the sun on time. Celestia put the scroll down and stood. She could no more miss the sunset’s timing than she could give up her evening tea; millennia-old habits and practices both. The curtains to her balcony rustled with the gentle summer’s breeze, but she didn’t need to see to step out and look upon the sun herself to perform her duty.
Without moving from her study’s venerable desk, Celestia lit her horn and called an end to the day. The task of shifting the sun in the sky was easier by far than the decision to get up and make for the door. These forms would have to be savored; with Luna back and taking up her charges again, the days were no longer crammed with urgent issues. As a result, it was hard to find things to do at times. Thus, Celestia found herself managing the tax reforms sparingly, and that was a challenge unto itself. It was easy to forget how engaging law and economy could be. So engaging, in fact, that it was hard to find time to “relax.”
Celestia paused halfway through the door, frowning at nothing in particular, least of all the two stoic guardsponies flanking the entrance. Relaxing was her sister’s word, not hers.
What she truly needed to do was review tomorrow’s schedule over her evening tea, and next week’s banquet wasn’t even planned yet. Perhaps she could look into restructuring visiting hours, too. The Day Court could stand to be open for another hour, at least.
The main hall was abuzz with countless conversations, as if a dozen cafés' worth of that particular noise were layered atop each other. For once, Celestia was not in the middle of it, but rather, off to the side both metaphorically and physically. She stole a glance up at the main table where her sister sat, and not for the first time.
From the looks of things, Luna was still engaged in a conversation with the Saddle Arabian embassy's representatives. Celestia smiled and levitated her cup up for a sip of spiced tea. A lot of policies and treaties would be broached for the first time tonight. Later, she would ask Luna if she wouldn't rather let Celestia handle the brunt of them. After that—
"Princess? Are you alright?"
Celestia cleared her throat, and then, with a noticeably larger effort, her mind. Luna was up there, and tonight, Celestia sat by the side table with some of her most treasured friends. Closest to her sat six very special ponies and one baby dragon. She owed them her full attention.
"I'm quite alright, Twilight," she said, smiling at her most prized student. Twilight returned the smile and nodded.
"This is one super party!" Pinkie Pie said, beaming. She leaned back, her neck stretched to its full length—and a bit more—while her eyes roamed the grand dining hall of the palace: countless ponies in ordered rows by dozens of long tables. "I've never ever seen so many ponies in one place before, except maybe during the Princess-raises-the-sun parties."
"I don't think that's what they're called." Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and grinned before turning to Celestia. "But hey, how come we're stuck here instead of up by the big important awesome table?"
Celestia barely had the time to open her mouth before Rarity interrupted. ”Rainbow, really! The ponies by the main table are the esteemed dignitaries of the peoples from the surrounding kingdoms, principalities and what-not."
"Just feels like being stuck at the foals' table at a birthday party. No offense." Rainbow Dash blew her mane out of her face and scooped another spoon of salad onto her plate.
“I’m okay with it. I don’t see any gemstones on any of the other tables,” Spike said, shrugging as he reached for another ruby.
Applejack raised a brow at Rarity and Rainbow Dash both before shrugging. "I don’t know about that, but if you don't mind me saying, that doesn't explain what you're doin' down here with us, Princess."
Celestia chuckled, glancing over at Twilight. She had predicted her student's reaction halfway through the sentence, and sure enough, the unicorn was halfway between wordless protest and apology.
"You are right, of course," Celestia said, looking at each of them in turn. Fluttershy, the only one not to have spoken, froze with her mouth around the garlic sauce's ladle in the pause. Celestia gave the pegasus mare a nod, which apparently satisfied her and let her continue with her meal.
"I would be up there with my sister, but I thought that if there was a moment to let her be fully in control, it would be the day of the dinner that celebrates the two year anniversary of her return."
"Ooh, your welcome-back-day-gift is to let her have the big stage? That's really nice of you." Pinkie smiled and followed Celestia’s eyes up to where Luna grinned at a griffin diplomat, the princess’s laughter lost in the din.
"That's one way to look at it." Celestia said. "Or I could bore you with the political strategy we laid for using her to spearhead some treaties."
Twilight's eyes lit up at that. "Is this about the proposed Griffin-Dragon concord? Or the—"
Celestia quieted her student with a shake of her head, though it took effort. She wouldn’t at all mind a little insight into the goings-on at the main table herself. "And another benefit of this is that I have a wonderful excuse to spend a little time with you. Rainbow Dash does have a point.”
“She does?” Spike said.
“I do?” Dash’s eyes were big, the carafe she was holding emptying its iced tea a few inches to the left of her glass.
“A good point in that you are all monumentally important, even if my sister and I have had fewer opportunities than we'd like to tell you that. I could be sitting anywhere I choose, and I am.” Celestia lit her horn with the barest of sparks, hovering up her glass. “To you.”
The assembled friends looked to one another and to her. Some exchanged smiles, and others hid theirs behind the cover of their own manes.
“Hay yeah! To us!” Dash raised her voice rather than her glass, standing up and grinning. Some of the neighbouring tables’ occupants turned in their seats, but scarcely a second passed before Applejack yanked her back down.
“Simmer down, R.D., you’re worse’n after you scared off that rampaging naga last week.”
“That was very brave, though,” Fluttershy said, her wings half-spread on her back. “She did save Carrot Top’s crop.”
Rarity huffed and muttered something about inedibility and decorum, but Pinkie Pie was louder still. “It was amazing!” she said, beaming brightly at the still-grinning Rainbow Dash. “I thought for sure my song would win him over, but he must have had some magical powers that let him ignore my amazing routine.” She crossed her hooves and looked rather less pleased with that last part. “Hmph!”
“Twi told you. It’s called ‘havin’ no ears’,” Applejack said. “There any more apple cider here?”
“The Everfree Forest has naga, now?” Celestia topped off her untouched glass before levitating over an apple-marked bottle to Applejack.
Twilight cleared her throat. “Yes, well, um. I didn’t send a letter right away because I thought I’d add it to the weekly letter. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“And we ran out of ink. Again,” Spike said, glaring at a rather sheepish-looking Twilight.
“Couldn’t you just have—” Fluttershy began to say, only to be interrupted by Spike.
“‘We’, as in Ponyville.”
“Oh.”
Celestia cast one final glance over at the main table before she graced her friends with a warm smile. “Be that as it may, I have time now. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“Oh, awesome!” Dash said.
Pinkie lit up and bounced on the spot. “Can I do the song again? Please?”
Fluttershy lay her ears flat and inched away from the energetic bundle of pink, even as the others laughed. “Um, maybe without the tuba, this time?”
“—and that didn’t do anything, either. He just stared at Twi and laughed!” Dash snickered and poked Twilight in the side. The unicorn winced and grimaced.
“Yes, well, if the anti-magical properties of naga scales had been better documented, then I wouldn’t have tried,” she said, lowering her head to the table.
Celestia laughed and leaned over to touch her neck to Twilight’s. Most of the dignitaries, officials and diplomats had begun to find their way out of the room, and theirs was one of the few scattered clumps of resistance in an ever more desolate room. Spike had fallen asleep at some point during the story despite Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash’s theatrics.
“Well, I am impressed with you all. I will send a team of my guard to find the naga nest and see if they can’t find a peaceful way to persuade them to relocate,” she said, the last few words earning a very subtle sigh of relief from Fluttershy. “Now, however, I believe it is time to say goodbye. You've already missed the last direct train to Ponyville, so it’s the overnight train for you.” She frowned in sympathy at the ripple of surprise and mild panic that rippled through the group at that; truth be told, she’d almost lost track of time herself.
“If it’s a concern, I can of course arrange for chambers here at the palace.”
“No, no. Or, well, not for me, at least,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “I promised Mayor Mare I’d meet with her tomorrow morning to talk about a new water tower design. Spike? Spike, wake up!”
“Aw, but this was fun!” Pinkie said, triggering a murmur of assent around the table.
Applejack got up and re-adjusted her hat. “I think we may’ve been the only ones here to have had any fun. The rest’ve been all polite smiles and little frowns.”
“Just because one has mastered the inside voice doesn’t mean there’s not a bigger smile on the inside, dear,” Rarity said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
Pinkie Pie stared at Rarity for a few seconds, head slowly tilting until it was at a full ninety degrees. At length, she hopped down from the bench that had seated her. “No, but I mean it! This was super-duper awesomely fun! We should come visit more often! Or maybe you should come visit us more often?”
Twilight opened her mouth, though whether it was to protest or apologize for Pinkie’s trademark bluntness, Celestia couldn’t tell. Regardless, no words came out. Celestia smiled at Pinkie Pie with that automatic smile that preceded and followed her every diplomatic statement and her every courtroom declaration.
“My sister’s said as much, as well. I really should be able to find some spare time, and you are all precious to me. There just always seems to be something to do.”
“But you want to?” Pinkie said. “That makes two of us, and if I know as much math as I hope I do, I think that means ‘yes’!”
Twilight pinched her eyes shut while levitating Spike onto her back. “Pinkie? Can we stop with the bothering of princesses?”
Celestia chuckled and offered a more genuine smile. “All I can say is that I do try to make time for such things.”
That was apparently sufficient to placate the pink mare, and the six friends all bowed to Celestia as they left the table and made their way towards the grand arch of the exit. Celestia remained at the table, her thoughts already drifting.
When was the last time she had visited Ponyville anyway? She could scarcely remember when she’d done more than pop by with some task or other for her favored student and her friends. There was a visit for tea somewhere in the recent past, but she couldn’t place the ‘when’ of it.
Perhaps she’d make time for it soon. A visit to repay the Elements for all their kindnesses. She would visit them and—well, do what she did when she visited friends. Celestia cleared her throat, drawing a complete blank. After a moment, she drained her glass and made for the head of the main table. It wasn’t too late to see if she could render her sister aid before she made for her own bedchambers. That called forth a quiet little grin. Perhaps she could sneak in a few more tax papers before bed. Those, she knew.
“That was a lot of fun!” Pinkie Pie said. Sure enough, she knew she’d said words to that effect, or perhaps even those exact same words eleventy-twenty and a half times this hour. That was entirely beside the point. Some things needed to be said even if they triggered a wave of groans through the sleeper car that housed her friends. Even if the hour in question was two o’clock in the middle of the night.
Rarity’s smile was strained. “Can we please have some quiet? I rather enjoyed the two minutes of silence we had just now. I am happy that you are happy, dear, but for a second I thought I might fall asleep.”
“Oh. Oops. Sorry. I just—”
“We know!” Dash said from the bunk bed above Pinkie Pie, sounding rather annoyed for some reason. Pinkie frowned and fished a bag of hard candies out from under her pillow, thrusting them up and past the edge of the bed. There was a sharp intake of breath as if the pegasus was about to protest, but a second later the bag disappeared from Pinkie’s hooves. For a while, the only sound in the darkened train car was that of covert and muffled munching. Candy was the ultimate response to any potential grumpiness. She nearly let the silence settle this time.
“Because,” Pinkie said, pausing only for a moment to wonder at her friends’ ability to recreate the sound of pillows being jammed into ears. She had no idea what they were really up to in the darkness. “It was so much bigger and fancier than all my parties, and I’ve never even seen so many new friends-to-be in one place! Oh, oh, and the glasses were all sparkly and shiny, too! But do you know what my favorite part was?”
Pinkie Pie swayed in tune to the clickety-clack of the train's meandering across the plains. She snuck a peek out the window, but it was much too dark to see anything. When she heard the unmistakable snores of Applejack from the next bed over, the faintest of frowns threatened her face.
“Nopony wants to know my favorite thing about the whole wide party?”
“Oh. Um, sorry. What was it?” Fluttershy’s voice was barely audible even just across the car’s narrow walkway. A second later, the pegasus’ distinct silhouette crept over the edge of the bed opposite of Pinkie Pie’s.
Pinkie hopped on the spot, acquiring a little lump on her head for the trouble, along with a grumble from Rainbow Dash in the bed above. “Princess Celestia said she’d come visit more often! Isn’t that the most amazing super great thing ever? She always laughs at my jokes, even when Twilight looks like she’s going to explode a little bit, and things are always fun around her!”
“She only really comes along when something really important or scary is happening,” Fluttershy said, sounding rather less enthusiastic than Pinkie Pie felt. “I don’t really know if she’ll come visit soon, even if she’s ever so nice.”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “She promised, silly! Where do you think we should take her first? The joke shop? Oh! Do you think she’ll bring Luna, too?”
Twilight’s sigh cut through the conversation, a faint purple glow emanating from the bed below Fluttershy’s. “Pinkie Pie, I’m very glad you had fun. We all did.” Her smile was barely a smile at all, a thing of pleading. “But Princess Celestia didn’t really promise anything. As much as I’d love to receive her in Ponyville again, she’s a very busy, and very important pony.”
Pinkie sat back in her bed and crossed her forelegs, squinting at Twilight from behind the armor of a pout. The unicorn, for her part, rubbed her bleary eyes and did an admirable job of masking a second, deeper sigh.
“I’m sure she’ll visit Ponyville again sometime soon. Soon-ish. I just don’t think she’s exactly going to be popping by next week for a round of board games and hopscotch. Perhaps you could send her a letter? Ah, but let’s not bother her with sending any letters through Spike unless it’s important. Maybe you could just think it very quietly?”
“I bet she loves board games,” Pinkie said, thrusting out her lower lip.
Dash groaned, tossed and turned. “Pinkie Pie, seriously, give it a rest.”
“Very, very important,” said Twilight.
“A letter does sound nice. I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” Fluttershy said, nodding eagerly along.
Pinkie Pie looked from Twilight to Fluttershy, and finally up at the bed above, though she couldn’t really see Rainbow Dash. It was clear she was outnumbered, but she was nowhere near outmatched. Already her brilliant mind was shifting into gear, and before she knew it, she had something far better than a plan; she had a vague idea. Vague ideas were like the cookie dough to the cookies of plans. Pinkie put on her happiest grin and nodded.
“Okie-dokie! Naptime!” she declared, headbutting her pillow and consigning herself to a nap.
“I suppose we can lessen or perhaps strike the toll restriction on tea, then,” the equine agreed. The Saddle-Arabian nodded at his mate, who returned the gesture with the creak and rustle of ornate bridles and harnesses.
Celestia smiled at the two emissaries, signing the forms with a flourish before levitating them over. Fervor, the male of the pair, leaned over to seize the quill in his mouth, but Celestia knew neither of them would sign it just yet. As friendly as their kind was, it was borderline insulting to expect them to accept the treaty without reading it in full first. When the discussion petered out, it became twice as obvious that the room was oppressively hot. There was not a sound to be heard outside of the soft murmurs between the two diplomats.
It was only a temporary reprieve. The very second this meeting concluded, she was needed in the Sun’s Dance complex to give some suggestions on the layout. Granted, it wasn’t strictly necessary if the foreman’s words on the matter were anything to go by, but that was no detriment. The current pause was pleasant only until she realized she didn’t quite know what to do with it. Where did the line between a pause and a wait go?
And where was that noise coming from? Celestia perked an ear and let her eyes roam, trying to pinpoint the source. Sound was tricky in the palace, especially in a chamber as large as this one. The sky was clear outside the balcony that dominated one wall, and the neighbouring rooms were reception rooms like this one. She knew for a fact they all stood empty at the moment, but still she could hear a growing noise. Hoofbeats? Hoofbeats were part of it, yes, but there was an odd rhythmic noise on top. Celestia glanced around once more. If the guardpony by the door or the Saddle-Arabian diplomats had heard anything, they gave no indication.
At least not until the doors burst open with a blast of confetti. The guard toppled over on the side with a clang, and the two dignitaries tripped over themselves and each other, going down in a heap. Celestia was the only one not to budge when a pink pony bounced inside the room, not so much holding as wielding a pair of maracas in her mouth with deadly musical intent. On her back was the biggest pair of saddlebags Celestia had ever seen, game boards and pieces overflowing. The maracas promptly clattered to the floor when Pinkie Pie opened her mouth.
“Hi Princess! You wanna play a game? I got Tic-tac-toe and Hungry Hungry Ponies!”
What the room had suffered in noise in the preceding three seconds, it made up for with the most silent silence Equestria had ever not heard. The guard stared for a moment before he scrabbled to stand, the foreign dignitaries got up and looked to Celestia, presumably for some sort of explanation—and the princess herself raised a single eyebrow at the sweaty and flagging pony finally trotting into view past the door. Shining Armor glared at Pinkie Pie before sketching a quick bow.
“Princess, I’m sorry,” he said, gasping for breath. “I—I took her to the waiting room. She asked to see you, but the second I looked away, she said—”
“I said I bet I know where the princess is, because where would I be if I was a princess? I’d be bouncing in the biggest bed ever! Oh, and then I took a wrong turn and ended up here. Hi!” Pinkie smiled brightly and nodded at herself, lifting her tail out of the way when Shining Armor tried to bite down on it, and a second later, hopping sideways to dodge a grab.
“If you’ll just—” he groaned, making another grab that the pink mare simply ducked under, never once breaking eye contact with Celestia. “Stand still. The princess is in a meeting!”
“And what brings you here this morning, Pinkie Pie?” Celestia pursed her lips and tilted her head, mostly to keep from smiling. The diplomats seemed confused still, which was better than insulted or even angry. Besides, certain allowances had to be made for ponies who made a habit of saving Equestria. That she herself was curious might have factored into it, too.
Pinkie giggled, tapping Shining Armor on the horn when it lit up, scattering his concentration and eliciting a cry of protest which was entirely drowned out by the pink pony’s voice. “Oh, I know the answer to this one! I know why I’m here!”
“Thank you, Shining Armor. I’m sure I can handle this invasion by myself,” Celestia said. Better to forestall any further altercations. She had no desire to have Pinkie carted off. Or rather more likely, to see Shining Armor’s pride hurt any further.
“If you say so.” Shining Armor puffed out his cheeks and frowned at Pinkie Pie after a nod at the princess. “I hope you’re right.”
Pinkie waved at the departing stallion before stepping inside the chamber, smiling at the two diplomats as if she’d only just now noticed them. “Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie. What’re your names?”
“I am Fervor, of Medineigh, Saddle Arabia,” the stallion said whilst glancing over at his equally nonplussed mate.
“Undaunted, also of Medineigh. Pleased. Pleased, and very, very confused. Princess?”
Celestia wasn’t entirely sure she managed to keep her face straight any more. “Pinkie Pie? Your reason for being here?”
“Right! See, Applejack once told me something very clever. Or, well, she says lots of clever things, ponies just don’t always listen, but I do! And I listened when she told me this story about mountains without legs. See, mountains are really neat, but they can’t move, so if you want to have a chat with a mountain, you have to go there yourself. Like a picnic!”
“It may not be quite how I would tell the story, but I do know it, yes,” Celestia said, but Pinkie merely shrugged.
“It’s okay, I don’t think I remember all of it. It just popped into my head when I was having a bath, and I thought to myself, ‘Pinkie Pie, I’m sure this means something important!’ I don’t think it means that your flanks are big like a mountain or something. I think it means that if you are super busy all the time, I need to bring the fun to you!”
Celestia poked her cheek with her tongue. Fervor and Undaunted both looked severely discomfited, and it seemed even the guard by the door—now finally upright—called upon years of training to keep from facehoofing in sympathy. Either Pinkie Pie didn’t notice, or she didn’t care.
For her own part, Celestia had to admit a few thousand years of experience helped, but she couldn’t quite say she had been in this exact situation before. Perhaps exactly because of that, it was a little sad to have to end it. Celestia lowered her head and shook it, flashing Pinkie Pie a smile.
“Pinkie Pie, I’m very sorry, but as you can see, we are in the middle of some very important negotiations. If you go back to the forechambers, I will meet you there once we are done here.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Pinkie said, looking over at the two diplomats and laying her ears flat. She was the very image of regret for all of half a second.
“Wait! They can join too! I brought a Monopoly board!”
Fervor tapped his hoof on the ground and cleared his throat, while Undaunted’s lips pulled up in the tiniest of smiles.
Celestia chuckled. “I don’t think they’re here for board games.”
Pinkie Pie pursed her lips and cast a quick glance over her own shoulder, inspecting the saddlebags once more.
“Even if they get to be the cart?”
“Even if they get to be cart. I’ll be with you soon, Pinkie Pie.” Celestia nodded towards the door. She’d have to push back some of the tasks she’d planned for the morning, of course, but wouldn’t it be far more responsible to sate her curiosity rather than wonder about it all day? Celestia nodded, gracing herself with a private little smile.
Belatedly, Celestia realized that telling Pinkie Pie to wait in the forechambers might have been a bad idea. On some days, it felt like the palace consisted entirely of forechambers. Sure enough, there was the occasional antechamber and waiting room to spruce things up, but it was easy to imagine a pony could get lost without an escort, and she had sent Shining Armor away.
On the other hoof, the trail of confetti made it rather simple to find her. As she drew near to the Day Court’s main room, Pinkie’s voice rang loud and clear through the halls.
“It’s your turn!”
“Miss, I’m on duty.”
The second voice had been in the gruff tone of one of her guard. Celestia upped her pace a little, rounding the corner to the court’s waiting room a moment later to find Pinkie Pie sat on her rump in front of the guards flanking the chamber’s grand doors. Pinkie held a half-dozen playing cards in her hooves, and a matching set of six lay face-down in front of one of the hapless guards.
“That’s okay, I’ll play for you!” Pinkie said. “Hm. And I think... you’re bluffing!”
“Miss, please.” The guard sighed and shifted where he stood.
Celestia paused in the middle of the small chamber, waiting while Pinkie leaned over to lift one of the cards on the ground. The pink pony drew back, clearly not pleased with what her little peek had revealed.
“Shoot! You weren’t bluffing? I never saw that one coming! You got a mean poker face, mister! Oh well, you win.” Pinkie Pie collected the cards and began shuffling, looking over to the other earth pony guard. “Do you wanna play a round? I think this guy’s way above my level.”
Said guard took a sudden yet fierce interest in a particular section of floor, his chest heaving with a silent sigh. Celestia levitated up Pinkie Pie’s discarded saddlebags and opened the door to the audience chamber with another glimmer of magic.
“Hello again, Pinkie Pie. Why don’t we head on inside?”
“Oh, hi, okie-dokie and goodbye!” Pinkie said, bouncing up on all fours, waving her farewells to her playmates and taking up position behind the princess, but once she’d done so, she seemed to deflate a little. Celestia cast another glance over her shoulder as she lead the pink mare past the doors and shut them in their wake, and it was most certainly not just her eyes playing tricks on her. Pinkie Pie definitively seemed a little more sedate this time around.
It wouldn’t be the audience chamber, of course. Most ponies were a little humbled by the Day Court’s audience chamber the first time around; the sheer amount of marble and gold was a little much, even to Celestia’s tastes. Gilded columns and arches flanked a red carpet leading up to a small sitting area with a chair the lesser cousin to the throne room’s own two thrones. Somehow, Celestia doubted Pinkie Pie was the type of pony to be intimidated, especially considering she’d been here before.
Celestia said nothing until they reached the pillows and sofas circling the large ornate table. Only when the saddlebags were neatly placed on the table and she herself had found a mound of pillows for the royal behind—the throne was hardly comfortable—did she raise her voice.
“I’m sorry if I came across as terse, but I hope you understand that we were rather busy with some paperwork in there.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Pinkie said, smiling up at her while hopping onto one of the sofas. “I’m sorry, too. It’s very rude to interrupt. I just forget that sometimes, and twice as sometimes-y when I’m really excited about something.”
Celestia nodded. “It’s quite alright, think no more of it. There’s nothing wrong with being excited.”
“I just thought you’d be happy!”
Celestia raised a brow, and barely had time to do even that before Pinkie went on. “Come on, everypony loves Monopoly! Well, except maybe Fluttershy, but that’s just because she gets really sad when she lands on one of my hotels and can’t pay.”
When this, too, failed to garner response, Pinkie Pie tilted her head to match. “Well duh! You said you’d like to come visit us in Ponyville some day, but Twilight and the others said you probably wouldn’t, but I thought it sounded like you really meant it, because you only say really cool stuff like ‘you won’t get away with this!’ and everything, and if you couldn’t come play with us, I thought I’d bring the fun to you!”
Celestia cast a glance out one of the chamber’s tall windows, bringing a hoof up to rub at her itching temple.
“Well,” she said, breathing out through her nose as she tried to think. Rare were the moments when she struggled to find words. Rarer still were the moments where she was pinned to the precise words she’d used where others would accept them as polite nothings. Or polite somethings. “Of course I would like to, but I am a very busy pony.”
Pinkie huffed. “That’s what Twilight said! But Princess Luna is super awesome, so she can talk to all the griffins and dragons and stage big parties too, can’t she?”
“Of course she can, and she does, but Equestria doesn't rest just because I want to go to Ponyville for another royal tea visit. I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie.” Celestia rose to stand and offered a sympathetic smile.
“It doesn’t have to be tea, silly. You should come visit me and Twilight and Applejack and all the others! We can do something fun instead!” Pinkie said, immediately clapping a hoof to her muzzle. “Oh no. Don’t tell Rarity I said tea isn’t fun. Tea is neat too, promise!”
Fun. The word patiently waited for Celestia to approach it. Clearly, Pinkie Pie meant her own particular brand of “fun”, and for a second, Celestia pictured herself riding a colorful carousel holding a cluster of balloons, and it was all she could do not to laugh.
Still, it was of course true that the world wasn’t made of tea and diplomacy. There was plenty more to do. More she already did. She just couldn’t think of anything at the moment. Celestia bit her cheek. In the silence that followed, Pinkie Pie got up and tested all the other sofas and pillows around the table, eventually coming to rest on top of the throne.
Nothing came to her. The last time something decidedly ‘new’ had happened, it had been a carefully orchestrated fracas at the gala two years ago, but what had she herself truly done? The silly carousel was oddly pervasive, but beyond that, she drew a complete blank as far as ideas went. Besides, there was always something purposeful to do in the palace. Something useful. Something—well, frankly, something safe. Yet the thought of letting her mane out was tantalizing. Persistent. If she couldn’t quite defend doing something new for herself, then she could do it as a favor to her friends.
That worked. Her mind didn’t rebel against the logic. Celestia puffed out her cheeks, making for the third in a series of frightfully un-royal gestures she usually reserved for when it was just her sister and herself in the room. The Elements. These six mares had done so much for her and for Equestria. If she could make even one of them feel a little better by doing something unrestrained, then she could defend taking the time to do so.
“If nothing else, I can try to schedule a visit to Ponyville this month. I wouldn’t want for your trip here to be wasted. I can’t promise much more than that, but I’ll take it out of my own time and visit during the afternoon.”
Pinkie Pie lit up with a grin that put the sun to shame. That alone was certainly worth delaying some tax revisions.
“That’s super-duper fantastic!”
“It is my pleasure. Now, unless there was something else?”
Pinkie Pie’s eyes sought the ceiling, her tongue stuck out in what Celestia assumed was thought. “Balloons? I ran out of balloons, so I need balloons to get home. I’m sure I can drift back home if I get a few dozen! Oh, but they have to be yellow and green and orange and all the other colors too. They’re not as floaty if they’re all the same color.”
Celestia laughed. “I’ll arrange for a chariot.”
Celestia seized the scroll in her aura the second it appeared. It was a reflex practiced by necessity. Specifically due to the uncanny frequency with which Twilight’s letters tended to appear when she was taking her bath. Presently and mercifully, she was having her evening tea with her sister in the dormant Night Court. The granite and silver decor was considerably easier on the eyes than her own court.
“It’s not Tuesday, is it?” Luna said.
“Not last I checked,” Celestia said, raising her cup for another sip. She deposited the scroll on the table, her eyes lingering on it for just long enough to bring a smile to her face. It was always a delight to hear from her prized student.
“Then it raises the question of why you’re not opening it, considering as how she usually only sends you messages outside of the weekly report if it’s urgent.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Have you always been this nosey? I know what the letter will say already.”
“Ah yes. My sister, the chess master.” Luna leaned back and rolled her neck. “Let me guess. This is the end-game of a plan you laid six hundred years ago, all culminating in the defeat of... let me think. Baathul the Twice Bearded has returned from his three thousand year slumber, except he’s already vanquished by a chain of events starting with you sending Twilight some lemon tea?”
Celestia covered her mouth as she laughed. “No, not quite. This is the aftermath of a surprise visit this morning.”
“I caught wind of some altercation. Pinkie Pie, was it? I hear she sought you out on her own.” At Celestia’s nod, Luna rolled her eyes before settling them on the scroll still hovering in front of the Sun Princess, a smile tugging on her lips. “I expect this would be the panicked letter from Twilight apologizing and such.”
Unrolling the scroll and giving it a cursory glance was enough to confirm both of their predictions. Celestia rolled it up again for later reading. “Yes, it is, and yes, Pinkie Pie did. She decided to take it upon herself to entertain me. Apparently, I need to get out more, and tea won’t suffice.”
It didn’t quite elicit the laughter Celestia had hoped for. She peered over the rim of her teacup and found Luna looking straight back at her with a subtle, contemplative frown, the cause of which Celestia couldn’t quite determine.
“Am I missing something?”
Luna shook her head. “No. Or, well, yes and no. She has a point, does she not? It is what I’ve been trying to tell you for months now. When was the last time you took time off?”
Celestia shrugged and put her teacup down. If her sister had a point, it had been rendered moot by her plans now. “I intend to visit to Ponyville in the middle of the month.”
“Visit.” Luna arched a brow as she repeated the word. “By which you mean a royal visitation of Ponyville with all the bells and whistles. Mayor Mare wishes to discuss funding?”
“As a matter of fact, no,” Celestia said. That the visit was not preplanned to a tee like all the others was equal parts unsettling and pleasant. “You’re working towards a point, though. Do go on.”
“No, I am simply speaking before I think. Thinking out loud, if you will. I’m glad to be wrong.” Luna rose to stand, slipping out from the seating area and making for the chamber’s single small balcony set in the back wall. Celestia followed, bringing her teacup along. Sometimes, her sister seemed to be taken by these fey moods, and usually, millennia of sisterhood let her understand them to some degree. Not so much, now.
Luna halted her slow walk only when she stood at the balcony’s edge, and Celestia stepped up to stand with her after depositing the cup on the broad stone railing. Beneath, the palace courtyard was empty save for the everpresent pair of guards whose armor reflected the moonight. Beyond, Canterlot was aglow with thousands of lights, and further still, Mount Canterlot’s prodigious height afforded them a view of southern central Equestria’s townships and villages. Isolated clusters of light dotted the dark greens of the land. Luna’s eyes, however, were glued to the sky.
“Do you remember before?”
Celestia spread her wings and arched her neck, stretching every joint before she furled her wings anew.
“There are a lot of ‘befores.’ When?”
“Any of them. Right up until before my banishment, we used to play among the stars.”
Celestia smiled at the memories that flocked to her. “I do remember that, yes.”
“And?”
“Am I to say something?”
Luna hopped up to stand on the balcony’s railing, one foreleg raised and bent, wings spread.
“Would you like to go for a flight, slightly dense sister of mine?”
Celestia shifted where she stood, pausing mid-sip. She meant to put the teacup down on the plate, but missed her mark, nearly dropping the delicate thing.
“I, ah. I want nothing more,” she said, averting her eyes at Luna’s thinly veiled frown. “I really should get back inside to attend the next set of reforms, though.”
“Should,” Luna said, the word sounding very different in her voice. “And want. Will you not fly with me? We have a set of competent staff members who are paid to do the exact things you take upon yourself. All you do is steal the job out of their hooves. What changed?”
Celestia turned on the spot and made for the balcony door. Her wings itched in the most annoying way, and her entire body felt ungainly and awkward in retreat.
“A thousand years happened. I’m not sure I remember how.”
“Somehow I doubt you’ve forgotten how to fly,” Luna said, hopping down to follow in Celestia’s hoofsteps. The Sun Princess said nothing until she reached the main doors of the court’s chamber, where Luna paused.
“No. That, at least, I remember,” Celestia managed, shaking her head and turning to cross necks with her sister. “Thank you for tea.”
Sure enough, that was her name, but there were multiple reasons for Pinkie Pie not to answer Twilight’s call. One was that she was very, very busy watching the cake through the oven door. Applejack had once said that a watched pot never boils, but even if that was true—Pinkie Pie wasn’t rightly sure—it was a fact that cakes were at least two hundred percent tastier when watched. Give or take a hundred percent. Whether that was because the cakes liked being watched or because it let Pinkie whisk it out of the oven to begin decorating at just the right moment, that didn’t really matter.
That, and the fact that Twilight sounded a little anxious or angry or one of those things, and in Pinkie’s experience, pretending not to hear or listen until the last moment usually relieved some tension.
“Pinkie Pie! I know you can hear me. I’m standing right here, and I need to talk to you!”
Or it made them more annoyed. Easy to forget the details. Besides, that Pinkie Pie was using Twilight’s own kitchen might add to it. Reluctantly, Pinkie tore her eyes away from the chocolatey goodness that was just starting to rise. Twilight stood in the doorway tapping a hoof on the ground.
“Hi Twilight! How’re you?”
“I’m just the same as I was five minutes ago when we last spoke. Anyway, I need to—”
“Oh! So a total nervous wreck over the fact that Princess Celestia is coming for a visit and she isn’t going to Sugarcube Corner on some fancy royal visit, but instead, she’s just coming to see little old us, and that’s why you’re yelling at everypony and having to apologize for raising your voice at Rainbow Dash for not being neat enough with the dusting?”
Twilight’s jaw hung open for a few seconds, eventually closing around a small frown. Her cheeks lit up with a blush.
“If I say yes, will you please listen?” She blew a strand of mane out of her face and peered over her own shoulders. “No Spike, don’t touch anything on the table! Where’s Rarity?”
“She said something about the upstairs curtains.” Spike’s voice drifted in from the main room.
“Right, I’ll be there in a second, this won’t take a minute,” Twilight said, stepping inside the kitchen proper. For a second she said nothing, sitting down on her haunches and taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It made Pinkie Pie think of collapsing dough.
“I was going to ask if you’re okay,” Pinkie said, bouncing over to Twilight’s side. She made her little hops as light as she could, not wanting to disturb the busily baking cake. “But you really don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine,” Twilight said, waving a foreleg. “Listen, I know we’ve talked about this before, and I’m very happy that you, uh, let’s call it ‘arranged for Princess Celestia to come visit.’”
“That’s confusing like you wouldn’t believe, because you don’t look very happy,” Pinkie said.
“I’m stressed, because Princess Celestia is—”
“A very important pony, and you really need to stop bothering her, Pinkie Pie,” Pinkie said, her head bouncing every which way as she put on her best Twilight impression. The unicorn offered a half-hearted glare in reply, but it was quickly gone again.
“Very funny. Oh! By the way, I received a reply from her the day after you ran off to Canterlot. I meant to tell you, too, but I forgot. Gosh, I’m so sorry!”
“Oh! Did she find the white rook of my chess set? I’ve been looking everywhere!”
“No, she, ah, she said to thank you for the invitation, and that she was aware she may have forgotten some of the simpler things in life somewhere along the road. I can find the letter if you want to have a look, but I don’t really know what to make of her words.” Twilight furrowed her brow in that way she always did when things were very complicated and she needed to put her entire big brain to work. Which was very silly when things were simple.
“She doesn’t sound bothered at all,” Pinkie said, smiling brightly.
“She’s of course too polite to ever say that. Can’t you just, I don’t know, not do that again? Please?”
Twilight didn’t look particularly angry, nor even frustrated. She even smiled a little, and somehow, that made it all worse. Pinkie hung her head and grabbed her own tail for comfort.
“Am I really being a bother?”
Twilight rubbed her face with a hoof and pinched her eyes shut. “I don’t know. No. Probably not.”
“Then everything’s alright, right?” Pinkie tilted her head one way, then the other. “That doesn’t sound like a problem-problem, it sounds like a not-a-problem in disguise!”
“The problem is—well. The problem is, she’s the princess.” The last word came from between gritted teeth.
“Yes?”
“There’s no ‘and,’ Pinkie!”
“Exactly!” Pinkie sprang up on all fours and trotted over to the oven, ignoring the little wordless cry of angst from behind. “Well, maybe there is one. ‘She’s the princess, and she is going to love this chocolate cake’?”
Celestia rewarded herself with a satisfied smile, putting the plan for tomorrow’s meeting atop the growing stack of paper from earlier this evening. When she’d raised the sun, her bedroom desk was nearly bare. Now, thanks to countless little visits to take her self-allotted “breaks” in her own bedchambers, it played host to the results of a full day’s work.
To think that a few years ago, her bedroom didn’t even have a desk. The ostentatious chamber had once been nothing but her pillow-drowned bed and all the bookcases the walls would fit. Recently—to one such as her at least—she had her carpenters assemble a desk to allow for some work during off-hours she’d never had since before her sister’s return.
She’d barely gotten so far as to consider which project or treaty to read next before a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes?”
The door opened slowly, admitting only the head of a rather timid-looking earth mare with russet coat and pale mane. Celestia beckoned and tilted her head.
“Please, enter. Glitter Top, is it?”
The mare nodded low to the ground and did enter, though only barely. Her tail still rested in the open doorway. “Yes, your highness. I’m in accounting and planning. My superior asked me to bring something up before you.”
Celestia got up and turned to face her. She could ask why this wasn’t handled the usual way and why she was at her door, but there was no harm. “Then speak, please.”
“Well, uh. I don’t have anything to do.”
“Pardon?”
Glitter averted her eyes and curled her tail around a leg. “I was working on contracting and clearing the new aqueduct proposal for Canterlot.”
“Ah. Yes.” Celestia sighed and nodded, casting a quick glance towards her desk. “I have that in my pile here somewhere, don’t I? I did not mean to take your work from you.”
Except, of course, she did. Finding things to do was becoming quite the challenge, and the project would take weeks, at least. Celestia pursed her lips. “If I recall correctly, you’ve served loyally for years without ever asking anything much. I think perhaps a paid vacation is in order if your superior can’t find anything for you to do at present. Does that sound acceptable?”
Glitter glanced back over her shoulder and out the door before she looked back up at Celestia. “She said you’d say as much.”
“She? Isn't Chestnut your supervisor? I’ve spoken to him many times.”
“I, uh. With all due respect, I didn’t say I was sent by my supervisor. I was sent by my superior.” Glitter Top’s smile was pained. “And if I’ve asked for nothing before, it’s because I’m happy with my job. I’ve put a lot of work into that project.”
“Thank you. You may go.”
Celestia frowned at the second voice that had spoken before she had a chance to reply. A moment later, the sun-emblazoned bedroom door slid fully open, revealing her sister. Glitter bowed to them each in turn and disappeared down the hall, clearly eager to be gone; there was no more humor in Luna’s demeanor than her voice.
“What is the meaning of this?” Celestia said.
Luna strode inside, but rather than make for Celestia herself, she skirted the edges of the room. While she walked by the bookcases that lined the walls, her horn took on a soft glow. For each bookcase she passed by, she gathered a smattering of dust. It wasn’t so much from the failings of the maids, of course, but the inevitable result of disuse and neglect. Celestia turned to watch until Luna finally halted in front of her.
“I worry,” Luna said.
“If that is the case, this is certainly an interesting way of displaying it. Why is our staff suddenly a part of this discussion?”
“Because ever since I returned, we’ve been working towards this. Towards me opening the Night Court. Towards me taking on my full duties. At first, I thought you kind to give me time to re-adjust, but after the first full year, I had doubts. We did this so that we could be equals once more, and so we are—”
Celestia sighed and shook her head. “Luna.”
“—and you are already jumping to conclusions. No. My point is, this was in part so you could take some time off. Like you said, it’s been a long time. You’ve had to change to deal with running an entire nation alone, and I respect that. You’re so very, very strong.”
With those words, Luna stepped closer, and Celestia had no words with which to reply when she leaned in to hug around her neck. Her sister was as warm as the sentiment of her words. Luna drew back and smiled, looking into her eyes.
“But you have to realize you’re not alone any more. Take the day off. Please.”
Celestia nodded very slowly, eyes locked with Luna’s as she did, imploring and willing her to believe the sincerity of the next few words. Words that had been ready ever since she understood where Luna was going with this.
“I don’t mind. I enjoy the work.”
Luna’s face fell, and the younger sister looked away, her body sagging where she stood. “Really, now.”
“Yes, really,” Celestia said, smiling and reaching out to steer her sister’s muzzle back to look at her. “I don’t feel burdened by the tasks, and I would not take them upon myself if I did not think I could handle it. I am aware it’s not strictly needed, but I enjoy keeping busy.”
“So you say. You believe it, and perhaps you’re even right, but it hurts you all the same.”
Celestia rolled her eyes, though the smile stayed put. “Come now. That’s rather melodramatic.”
“Is it? What time is it, and where are you supposed to be right now?”
Celestia frowned. It was obvious bait. Luna was getting at something, but what? The date and the time had showed nothing in her schedule. There was a reason she’d snuck out to find a few more projects with which to busy herself; there was a six hour gap where she had no official or unofficial duties to attend.
Because she was supposed to be in Ponyville. Celestia closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She heard Luna make a noise as well, but she hardly needed her input to berate herself. A quick glance out the window, and the sun told her she was nearly three hours late. Even if she rode what little sunlight was left, if she teleported straight to Ponyville, it was pointless.
“I forgot.”
“So you did.”
With the barest pulse of magic, Celestia closed the bedchamber door. She resisted the urge to leap onto her bed like a sullen foal seven thousand years younger than herself, but it was a close thing. Instead, irritation crept into her voice as she made for the center of the room.
“Actually, I’m not sure that’s even the case. I don’t trust that I forgot. When was the last time I forgot something? I don’t forget things. I made myself forget it. Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that—that this,” she sighed, indicating her desk with a nod of her head. “That these chores are more important to me than entertaining Twilight and her friends. That, or I’ve become so rooted in my habits I cannot even try something new.”
Luna rolled her jaw as she sidled up to her sister’s side. “Despite your words, you’re still missing the point entirely. For whom was this visit intended, you say? Who was meant to benefit?”
Celestia narrowed the closer eye and frowned. “Crypticisms? I thought prophecies had gone out of style.”
“And I thought I was the one having to re-adjust after my return,” Luna said, though the younger sister smiled where Celestia most certainly did not. She was spared the difficulty of having to come up with a reply, however, interrupted by a knock on the door. Only after Celestia had surrounded the door with her magic did she realize that she was looking at the entirely wrong door.
“Then again, I don’t think I have to do much,” Luna said, waving a hoof at the balcony door. On the other side of the glass panes, a bright pink pony bounced on the spot until a glimmer of Luna’s horn admitted her.
“Oh wow, two princesses today. Hi! I didn’t want to bother Twilight’s brother since he got all upset last time, so I took the back entrance.”
“Well, this is a surprise,” Celestia said, trying her best to keep her face neutral. She had a feeling she still looked every bit as shocked as she had felt the first time she tasted her sister’s cooking. “Hello.”
“Especially considering that balcony faces Mount Canterlot’s sheer face, yes,” Luna said, craning her neck as if she could look past Pinkie Pie and over the balcony to confirm exactly that.
“I brought cake!”
Pinkie Pie dipped her muzzle into the single-sided saddlebag she wore and pulled out a platter with a cake rather larger than the container in question. Celestia felt the beginnings of a smile take root. Cake was as effective a conversation starter as any, neatly skipping a host of conversational milestones associated with surprise visits. Besides, it looked absolutely delicious; chocolate cake with colored sprinkles and bits of orange peel.
“So you have,” she said. “May I ask exactly why you brought us cake, if it is indeed for us?”
“Oh. Sure! I mean, that depends on who you mean by ‘us’, I think. I could probably take this in a single bite, but I was planning on letting you have some! It’s for eating. Do you princesses eat a lot of cake?”
“Some of us do. Certain princesses seem to inhale cake, at times,” Luna said, grinning.
Celestia jabbed Luna in the side with a wingtip and raised her voice a smidgen. “Still, I fear I have to ask how you got here all alone, and what this is for. If it’s about the visit, I’m sorry—”
“Oh, I’m not alone!” Pinkie beamed. Had the smile been any less bright, it would’ve been easy to be annoyed by being cut off mid-apology. Very few ponies had the nerve to interrupt a royal apology. Still, Celestia thought no more of it, perhaps exactly because Pinkie didn’t even pause to acknowledge that.
“Or, well, I’m not supposed to be,” Pinkie said. “They should have found the note saying I was off to Canterlot by now. Huh!”
Celestia let her left eyebrow ask the question. Pinkie Pie apparently did not speak its language, continuing her own little soliloquy.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, actually. Do you think Twilight can teleport ponies across Equestria when she isn’t running for her life and isn’t really scared, but just really, really, really, really annoyed? That’s four counts of ‘really’.”
Luna cleared her throat. Celestia blinked.
“Me neither!” Pinkie said. “We probably have to wait another ten or twelve seconds for Rainbow Dash.”
Celestia chuckled and shook her head, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Pinkie Pie, I appreciate you coming here, and the cake does look wonderful, but—”
For the third time in less than ten minutes, Celestia was interrupted by somepony knocking on her door. For the second time in five minutes, she was interrupted by somepony knocking on her balcony door. Luna laughed, and Celestia simply stared as Twilight stuck her head inside, shortly followed by a very, very tired Rainbow Dash.
“Okay, I am not—” Dash breathed more than said, her wings sagging. “—doing that again, ever. Even if you’re timing me. But, uh, that was a new record, right?”
“Pinkie Pie! I told you not to bother Princess Celestia any more, and this is what you do?” Twilight said, advancing on the mare in question all of three steps until she looked up. “Uh, oh, and Princess Celestia. Princess Luna.” The unicorn dipped her head, and Dash did the same, though the pegasus stayed down and quiet aside from the occasional wing twitch.
If Pinkie Pie was even the slightest bit repentant, her way of showing it included bouncing around the room in tiny little circles. “Now everypony’s here!”
“Yes, there are quite a few ponies in my bedchambers,” Celestia said by way of agreement. “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? When you didn’t show up—”
“You decided to bring the party here?” Celestia said.
“Silly, it won’t be a proper party without Fluttershy and Rarity and Applejack and Spike. We’re having a mini-slumber party, but with cake!”
Rainbow Dash was the only one to really react right away. A snort became a guffaw, paving the way for a chortle which transitioned into a full-bodied laughter. Pinkie Pie looked over at the pegasus as if her reaction was completely unexpected, and Twilight groaned, fixing Pinkie with a stern look.
“Pinkie, I’m pretty sure princesses don’t—”
Whatever else she said was drowned out by Celestia’s own thoughts. Whatever she was meant to do or not to do, she had made a promise, and breaking promises was most certainly not in her portfolio. A quick glance at her desk showed that the neatly stacked papers had gone exactly nowhere, but as tempting as paperwork was, she could hardly be blamed if she were forced to make good on an earlier promise instead.
Still, it was a rather rude awakening from the privacy of her own thoughts when Luna interrupted not by speaking, but trotting past her and seizing every single paper on her desk. The documents sheathed in her magic, she made for the door while the three other ponies continued their argument heedless of the princesses.
“Luna?”
“Hm?”
“What exactly are you doing?”
Luna grinned. “I’m taking all your work away, because you’re going to take tonight off, of course.”
“Am I?” Celestia asked, deciding that was about as far as she was prepared to go with her token disagreement.
“I think you are. And you’re going to stop taking the administration’s work, but we’ll get to that later. For now, I’m cancelling the rest of your appointments. The Silver Lounge is free, for the record.” Luna shrugged. “Make of that what you will.”
Celestia opened her mouth to say ‘thank you’. “If you say so,” she said.
“I do. See you tonight, sister.”
Celestia brought a hoof up to her forehead and sighed, mostly to cover up a small smile so Luna wouldn’t see. It wasn’t as if Celestia had never spent time with ponies outside of formal settings. She remembered plenty of evenings spent with her prized pupil by the fireplace, teaching her a new spell or other. Aside from that, though, the memories of moments spent with friends were all terribly rare or terribly old. Mostly old.
And now, three such friends were currently engaged in a rather heated debate in her own bedroom. It wasn’t the best of starts. Rainbow was back up on all fours, but the centerpiece was Twilight and Pinkie’s quarrel which had really gone on long enough. Presently, Twilight was content to glare at Pinkie, and the earth mare herself had her hooves stuck in her ears, pouting.
“What do you say we move on to a room that has actual seating?” Celestia said. “Feel free to bring the cake.”
Twilight blinked, and was immediately subjected to Pinkie Pie performing the single most joyful blowing of a raspberry that Celestia had ever witnessed.
“Seriously?” Dash said, her wings spreading and refurling out of synch. “Isn’t that a little, uh, weird?” The second she’d spoken, her eyes slipped down to the cake that waited patiently on the ground. “Actually, sure, I’m in. Slumber party’s good with me.”
“You can’t be serious!”
Celestia raised a brow at Twilight’s outburst. Pinkie Pie trotted past her with the cake on her head and Rainbow Dash sailed past as well, her body limp as her wings followed the piper’s song towards the door. Under the princess’ questioning look, Twilight wilted.
“Twilight?”
“She’s been like this all day! I just, I, um, I don’t think we should be bothering you.” The unicorn’s voice was muffled more with every word by her attempts to bury her muzzle in the coat of her own neck.
It was hard not to smile. “Why not let me decide whether or not I’m bothered? If you’d like to go back to Ponyville, I can send for a chariot. It’s no trouble.”
“Come on, slowpokes! What’s the hold-up?” Pinkie said from over by the door. The cake wobbled precariously when she tilted her head, and Rainbow Dash made a strangled noise. Pinkie hardly seemed to notice; the cake stayed put.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Twilight said, ears splayed. “I just didn’t think, well. It doesn’t matter. What did you have in mind?”
“Slumber party!” Pinkie said before Celestia had a chance to even consider the question.
Celestia laughed, setting for the door and down the hall. “Let’s take it one step at a time. I don’t even know what goes into a good party these days unless it involves flags and a guard detail, but let’s find us a free room. I could use a break and something soft to sit on.”
(Adjective) 1: attractive in a pretty or endearing way
As the name suggested, the Silver Lounge was part of Luna’s wing, near to her court. While the courts themselves were a relatively minor part of the palace all things considered, the informal meeting chamber would have made most ponies’ living rooms green with envy.
The room was set deep in the palace interior, but what it lacked in actual windows, it made up for with paintings and crystal panes with deep green glass designed to offer the illusion of a dark forest. The rest of the walls were lined with bookcases and cabinets of varying woods, and pillows on plush carpets sketched a loose sitting area around a large fireplace. It was the work of minutes to light a cozy fire more for light than for warmth, and soon the four were seated, the cake diplomatically placed in the middle of a small, low table.
Seated, and in the middle of a silence that threatened to last. Twilight wore a small smile that hadn’t changed since they entered the room, Rainbow Dash was casually inspecting the tiles of the roof whistling tunelessly, and Pinkie Pie? Pinkie hummed to herself, her head bobbing sideways and her eyes closed.
“Ah. I think perhaps we should start by... cutting the cake?” Celestia finally said.
“Sure,” Dash said. “Uh. Your highness.”
“I think we can dispense with that.”
Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “Which means not calling you princess or highness or anything?”
“It means to do away with,” Twilight said. “So yes.”
“Right.” Dash cleared her throat.
“This is going to be so great!” Pinkie said, leaning in over the table while Celestia cut the cake into sixteen equally large pieces. The glow from her horn hadn’t even died down before Pinkie Pie snatched a pair for herself, and Rainbow Dash wasn’t far behind. Predictably, Twilight glanced askance at Celestia before anything else.
“Informal setting, Twilight. You don’t have to wait for me,” Celestia said, levitating up a slice of chocolatey goodness for herself while Pinkie seized her third. It was strangely liberating not to have an entire table full of diplomats staring at her, waiting for her approval to begin their meal.
“I suppose,” Twilight said, hanging her head. “Sorry. If this is meant to be your time off, I’m not doing a very good job.”
Pinkie reached in for another slice. Where the first three had gone, Celestia honestly couldn’t tell. She glanced about the pillow that seated the pink pony while she finished her own cake in an expertly measured set of bites, but found nothing.
“So, uh. Do you have any games or anything?” Dash asked. “I mean, I’m all for talking about Twilight being an awkward egghead and everything, but, uh—”
“Aw, don’t be mean, Dashie!” Pinkie said, her forelegs darting in for another slice. Twilight merely rolled her eyes.
“Truth be told, I was about to ask you what kind of entertainment you would like,” Celestia said. “But I suppose not everything requires me to call the court musicians and a troupe of jugglers.”
Dash shrugged, Twilight coughed, and Pinkie worked away at the cake. Stiff as though the silence was, Celestia had to admit that there was something thoroughly refreshing about the pink pony’s shameless abandon. She’d made the delicious cake, and so she finished it off with nary a care in the world. Standard logic applied rather than royal logic that limited manners and such.
“Maybe you have Battleclouds or something?” Dash asked, tapping her hooves on the table when nopony spoke.
“I’m sorry. I’m not very good company,” Celestia said, shaking her head and shifting on her pillow. “I think there should be something in the cabinets here, but if you’d rather go—”
Pinkie Pie swallowed the last of the cake and licked her lips, rising to stand. It was a small movement, all things considered, and Celestia still towered above her, but the way the pink mare carried herself reminded her of a phoenix spreading its wings. Instead of fiery feathers, she had only her smile, but that was plenty enough to give Celestia pause.
“Silly, we make our own entertainment! What do you want to do?” Pinkie said.
Celestia couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so uncomfortable—no, so ill-fitting for the spotlight. “Ah. That’s not really important. I’m happy to do anything you like.”
Pinkie Pie squinted for a moment, then nodded. “Okie-dokie! We can just talk. I like talking. Talking is one of my favorite things, you know! We can talk about Rainbow Dash’s new trick, or the new spells Twilight has been researching. Oh! Or I can tell you all about the surprise birthday party I’m gonna throw Dashie next month?”
Rainbow Dash smacked her forehead. “It’s not a surprise if you tell me. Now you ruined it!”
“Silly, the surprise isn’t that it’s a surprise, the surprise is in how it’s a surprise!”
Dash blinked. “Okay. Now I’m just worried. I take it back. Can we go back to me not knowing?”
Twilight sunk down further on her pillow. “I guess these aren’t very interesting topics for you, though.”
Celestia arched a brow. “You would be surprised how much more interesting this is to me than having my attendants discuss the results of my meetings with the dragon kings’ representatives today.”
“You’ve been talking to dragons?” Dash said, eyes wide.
Twilight perked her ears. “An extra congress?”
“Oh wow! I agree with Twilight. Let’s talk about that instead. Topic change!” Pinkie declared, smacking the table with a hoof.
Celestia laughed. It came out not a muted royal chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh that surprised even herself. “Alright, I suppose I can stand to tell that tale one more time, but you didn’t hear from me that they are rather boring company. Now, why don’t I call for some real tea and food from the royal kitchens? That is, if you’ll tell me all about what you’ve been up to, afterwards.”
“I never really thought about it. Um, I guess I’d have to say... liquorice? Liquorice tastes terrible,” Twilight said, her tongue sticking out and her face scrunched.
“Aw, but it goes great with sarsaparilla, or in a cake!” Pinkie said. “Okay, maybe I just really like liquorice. What about you, princess?”
Celestia chuckled. “I don’t think the candy that I don’t like has been made yet. You know how mothers always say you’ll like your sprouts if you just try them?”
“Sure, and then you dig a hole in the cloud under you and hide them and pretend you ate them!” Dash said.
“You did not!” Twilight said.
“Yeah-huh! Every day. Sprouts are terrible! Uh, I think.”
“My point was,” Celestia said, smiling at Rainbow Dash. “They’re right. Now imagine you’ve been to so many big dinners, events and gatherings, that you’ve been sent so many treats as gifts that you’ve had to try absolutely everything many times over.”
“So you like everything?” Pinkie said, her eyes lighting up as she gazed over at the princess. “Oh wow, me too! Everything’s my favorite! Well, okay, except things that don’t have sugar, I guess, but those aren’t really things. They’re, uh, not-things.”
“Oh goodness, no, we were talking about candy, weren’t we? I don’t like sprouts either.” Celestia grinned while the three ponies laughed. Even Twilight broke into a giggle despite Dash’s rather uncalled for victory dance and swishing her tail in her face.
Celestia sat back and slowly let out her breath. Time was strange, even to one who had seen so very much of it. Fifteen minutes of paperwork could be an era unto itself, and a few hours of whatever it was this was had passed by like nothing. The almost oppressively hot chamber was littered with empty plates and luke-warm teacups. As the evening dragged on, the four had inched closer towards the table until they sat close enough to touch.
“It is getting rather late,” she said, working hard to keep the regret from her voice. “It will soon be too dark to fly, so we better get the guard to fly you three home.”
“Aw, but slumber party sleepover princess parties are supposed to—” Pinkie’s complaint was interrupted by a great yawn. “—last all night!”
“I’m afraid this won’t be much of a sleepover, then. I’m sorry,” Celestia said, rising to stand and stretching her aching wings and legs. Twilight and Rainbow Dash did the same, but Pinkie Pie simply rolled onto her back.
“We didn’t even get to the good parts!”
Dash nudged Pinkie on the flank. “You’re not gonna get me to do your mane or anything like that.”
Pinkie sat up and pointed at Twilight, freezing the poor unicorn in place. “Yeah, but we’re supposed to talk about other ponies too! Like about how Pokey Pierce is hitting on you, Twilight! That’s a great topic.”
“He most certainly is not! He just comes by to borrow books every now and then, and we talk a little.” Twilight snorted.
“Uh, Pokey doesn’t read a whole lot. I’m pretty sure he’s putting the moves on,” Dash said, grinning. “Sorry Twilight.”
Twilight groaned and scratched her forehead. “Great. I need to have a talk with him, then. I hope I have that copy of ‘How to Let Someone Down Gently’ somewhere.”
“See? Isn’t this fun?” Pinkie asked, apparently resolved to get as much as possible out of the last moments, though she did follow the other ponies as they walked towards the door at a sluggish pace. “What about you?”
Celestia looked over to find Pinkie’s eyes trained straight at her, and a noise somewhere between a strangled snort and a laugh welled up.
“No, I most definitely have not had the time for anything like that in quite a while.”
“Aw, why not? You’re totally cute!”
Celestia blinked, not really quite sure what to say to that. Besides, it looked like her faithful student was prepared to take care of that for her; Twilight stared at Pinkie Pie as if she’d suddenly grown antlers and a beard. Nothing much came of it. Dash raised an eyebrow and shrugged, Pinkie bounced merrily along, and Twilight had her aneurysm in private, eyes welded shut for a moment.
“Things were different back then. I’ve ruled alone for a long time,” Celestia offered, opening the door and stepping out into the colder hallway. “If there have been suitors, it’s never reached my ears.”
“That’s silly,” Pinkie said, trotting past the others to walk alongside her.
“Pinkie,” was all Twilight said, her head almost brushing the floor.
“It’s quite alright,” Celestia said, though for whom the words were intended, she wasn’t quite sure herself. “Just take the hall to the right here.”
“And straight down to the courtyard,” Twilight added, nodding. “Thank you for taking the time to see us.”
“When are you coming to visit?”
Pinkie’s question wasn’t entirely unexpected. The fact that Celestia didn’t protest the use of “when” rather than any other word, however, that was worthy of contemplation. Equally surprising, and not entirely unwelcome, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle stood shoulder to shoulder with Pinkie, eagerly awaiting an answer.
“I bet Fluttershy would love to hang out,” Dash said.
“You mean Rarity will have our heads if she heard we had a ‘tête-à-tête’ with royalty without her,” Twilight said. “I bet Applejack and Spike feel left out, too.”
“Well, I would hate to cause a rift,” Celestia said. “How about the weekend after next?”
Pinkie nodded and hopped. “Sure! Hey, we should move this to Fluttershy’s cottage. I bet she would love to have us over, even if she might have a cute little heart attack or two while she warms up to it!”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure we can arrange for the details later.” Celestia smiled and nodded at the three, who all waved back before trotting down the castle halls in high spirits. It was hard to make herself move at all; only when their voices had faded completely did she turn around. It wasn’t even worth feigning surprise at Luna standing behind her.
“Looks like you had a good time,” Luna said.
Celestia cast a final glance down the now-empty hall, stuck between a grin and a nonplussed frown.
“We did. And apparently, I am ‘cute’.”
“Now that sounds like a story.” Luna raised an eyebrow as she followed Celestia inside her bedchamber. Where Celestia made for her bed, the moon princess beelined for the balcony, throwing open the doors and stepping outside into the darkening night. “Care to join me?”
Celestia paused, halfway to removing her crown and other regalia. In the aftermath of the evening so far, the question of “why” was so much weaker than “why not.” She trotted around her bed and onto the balcony to stand at her sister’s side. “Alright. I may be a little rusty, though.”
“It’s hardly the sort of thing you ever forget.”
Luna craned her neck to look straight up, guiding both their eyes up the walls and past the castle’s spires to the moon and stars above. The younger sister’s horn glowed with a faint purple light, and as she willed it, more lights blinked into existence, lighting up the sky to counter the sun that had set at Celestia’s command.
Luna was right. No words needed to be said, and the only thing traded were a couple of quiet smiles before powerful wings spread in synch. The sisters took off together, and with each set of wingbeats, the noise of the castle, then of Canterlot, slowly died down. Noises Celestia had not taken notice of due to far too many hundreds of years in their presence. Chatter, hoofsteps, whispers, it all faded.
Higher and higher they rose, and Celestia wove the spells about her as if she’d done this all last just yesterday. Wards against cold, and spells for breath. By wing and magic they climbed, and soon Luna brought them to a halt. At first a cluster of lights bright as the sun below, Canterlot was soon just another twinkling star. All around them, the stars shone, and Celestia knew that without magic, she might lose track of which star was home.
Luna’s wings were spread making slow, graceful movements, and the night princess laughed as she pulled a small loop, twisting around her own axis. She floated towards Celestia upside-down, smiling. Celestia smiled back and gave her sister a brief hug, content to watch for the moment. In a place that barely recognized the concept, she was still weighed down by questions, some of them laughably simple.
“How often do you come here?”
Luna’s smile waned. “Every night. Every night since my return.”
Celestia rolled her jaw. “Why have you not brought me?”
“I have asked time and again. You forget, or you pretend to forget.”
Celestia sighed. She sensed the truth of it, just like she knew her next words were a lie.
“I don’t... forget things.”
Luna made no immediate reply. She drifted past her and reached out with a wingtip to drag it along Celestia’s entire length. Celestia tested her own wings, setting herself moving in any direction at all. Luna soon came in from below, floating backwards and upside-down both, matching her speed perfectly.
“So. Details, ‘Tia?”
Celestia rolled her eyes. It was hard to keep the humor from her voice. “You could get your own slumber party.”
“I had a little get-together with some of the staff and a few acquaintances last week. I invited you.”
“Ah.”
Celestia twisted around to bring herself face to face with Luna as they drifted among the stars. “To answer your question, I had—I mean, I believe they had fun.”
“And you?”
Celestia sighed and nodded. Her sister didn’t look the least bit smug, nor did she even smile. Luna’s eyes were full of concern and nothing but. Concern that evaporated in the face of a simple admission.
“And I did, too, yes.”
Luna leaned over to hug Celestia around the neck. Celestia felt more than she heard the chuckle that followed.
“Am I going to have to hire a few noisy pink ponies on the palace staff? Was an invasion of privacy all it took for you to enjoy yourself for a few hours?”
“No, I think the one pony is quite enough, thank you,” Celestia said, drawing back. “And you forgot callous disrespect and a complete lack of—no, and a different brand of courtesy.”
Luna’s brows were knit. “Well. I was making a joke, but now I’m intrigued. Different brand of courtesy? Is this not the end of it, then?”
“I’m just thinking aloud. I rather enjoy seeing that some ponies can take me at face value.”
“And perhaps you need a kick on the flank to get out more.”
Celestia chuckled. “Yes, well. Apparently, I’m expected in Ponyville late next week, so that’s taken care of, too.”
Luna smiled wide and stretched her wings to her fullest. “I’m pleased to hear this. Another one of Pinkie Pie’s initiatives?”
“Yes. Even though Twilight seems a little uncomfortable with it.” Celestia shook her head at her own words. “Uncomfortable is the wrong word. Surprised.”
Luna shrugged. “She has no reason to believe you are anything but what you’ve shown her. Perhaps you should talk to her?”
“I guess there’s truth to that, but no. I don’t think there’s a need. At least not yet. She’ll form her own opinion and be stronger for it.”
“And Pinkie Pie?”
Celestia tilted her head. “I’m not sure I understand the question, if there is one.”
Luna gave her a toothy grin. “Is she the one who called you cute?”
“Well, yes.” Celestia rolled her eyes and angled herself towards a particular star, giving her wings a single, decisive flap. “I’m not impressed you figured that out. It fits her particular brand of randomness, does it not?”
Luna angled herself homewards and gave chase. “I’m sure you are correct.”
The tension in Fluttershy’s living room was palpable. It made Pinkie Pie think of a tasty muffin filled with particularly explosive strawberry jam. The kind of muffin that you knew you couldn’t resist chomping down on even if you also knew it would mean a bath right afterwards.
Now Pinkie Pie was hungry, too. It was almost enough to drive a mare to distraction, but only almost. She held the strings of a cluster of balloons in her mouth, and her saddlebags were filled to the brim with enough confetti to blind a flight of dragons. She wasn’t really facing dragons, though. She was up against a far more formidable foe. She was facing Twilight Sparkle.
The very second the unicorn had spotted Pinkie Pie’s party paraphernalia, Twilight had let out a loud groan. Apparently the other ponies and Spike had been in the middle of bringing out Fluttershy’s finest tableware and all that went with it. None of it looked like the colorful kind of fun stuff that screamed “let’s have a good time.” Twilight was preparing for a banquet while Pinkie brought the party, and now the spacious room was slowly going quiet.
Fluttershy paused on the last step of her stairs coming down from the second floor with Rainbow Dash in tow, Rarity stopped polishing the silverware, Spike peeked in from the kitchen, and Applejack’s efforts to move the dinner table into the middle of the living room slowly ground to a halt. Pinkie Pie opened her mouth and let the balloons decorate the ceiling for a bit. There was really only one thing to do in a situation like this.
Twilight come on, Celestia clearly likes fun! The napkins are boring and where are you hiding the games? Just because it so happens she’s the one raising the sun, That doesn’t mean she’s into things that are nothing but lame!
Pinkie bounded into the room with a giggle on her lips, but when she reached in for a hug, Twilight drew back. The unicorn raised a foreleg and her voice both.
What you forget here is that she’s still a princess, I’m sure that your plans are amazing and very grand. I still say confetti has no place in this, my organized bliss, A disappointment we simply can’t stand!
Rainbow Dash swooped in from the other side of the room. She passed Twilight so close by, her mane and tail stood out straight in her wake. Pinkie grinned when the pegasus landed at her side, lending her support and her voice.
You saw for yourself, she’s just looking to share some laughs, Not everything has to be planned by equations—
They’re graphs! Twilight snapped.
Not about to leave her friend alone, Rarity put down the silverware she had been inspecting a moment prior, trotting up to Twilight’s side.
Where royalty’s concerned one is wise to observe, The respect and the dignity they’ve come to deserve.
Pinkie trotted past the two unicorns and grabbed napkin from the table. In a few quick movements, she folded what could generously be called a paper crocodile, depositing her creation on Twilight’s back while she carried the song on.
All this fussing and worrying makes no sense, We’re all friends here, and she’s just another mare. She didn’t say she wanted yet another fancy soirée, We could even have a garden party, let’s go get some air!
Twilight sighed and surrounded the hapless and inert reptile with her magic, straightening the napkin back out before she replied.
While she clearly isn’t here to talk policies or war, She is royalty, she’ll expect us to be our very best. She’s a princess, and what’s more, she’s still my mentor, Even though she hasn’t said a word, it’s still a kind of test.
Twilight’s head drooped with those final words, but she had barely the time to finish before Fluttershy sidled up to her. The pegasus nuzzled Twilight and smiled, her soft voice continuing where Twilight left off.
The princess she has always been ever so nice, She loves you and she wants to see you too. We don’t have to tear down my cottage to play cards or dice, Just breathe steady, you know that we’re all here for you.
Finally, Applejack moved to Pinkie Pie’s side, a grin on her face as she wrapped a foreleg around the pink pony’s neck. The earth mare wasted no time in force-walking Pinkie towards Twilight.
I think it’s clear that it’s time that we call a truce, Though you’re different, you both very obviously care, With twice the ideas there’s nothing we stand to lose, Now let’s buckle down, get up, there’s much to do to prepare!
Pinkie Pie reached out and offered Twilight a full-bodied grin to go with the unicorn’s tentative smile. There was a moment’s reluctance, but eventually, Twilight reached out and hugged Pinkie Pie around the neck, and Pinkie was all too happy to return it.
“Right,” Twilight said, loudly exhaling. Applejack tipped her hat and resumed her quest to get the table centered, and the other ponies were back to work as well, leaving Pinkie and Twilight by themselves. “So, how about you decorate a bit, and we ask her what she wants to do after dinner? Is that an okay compromise?”
“Oh, asking her sounds great! And you know, I wasn’t planning on tossing streamers and banners and stuff all over the place.” Pinkie Pie giggled and nosed open one of her saddlebags, digging a game board out from the protective layer of confetti. “It’s not like everything is better off looking like a birthday party. Balloons, on the other hoof. Those go with anything!”
Twilight sighed and nodded. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”
Pinkie Pie leaned past her, sniffing the air. “Whatcha making? I can’t smell anything cooking, baking or even burning.”
The answer came in the form of a baby dragon poking his head in from the kitchen. Spike wore an apron and a chef’s hat, wielding a pair of wooden salad forks. “Fluttershy had an idea for a salad with nuts and tomatoes. I’m having sapphires!”
“Oh!” Pinkie nibbled her own tongue. “I thought you were making some huge fancy dinner. Salad sounds great!”
Twilight chuckled at that. “A multiple course meal? At noon?”
Pinkie shrugged, hopping past Twilight to help Rarity with the tablecloth while Twilight herself levitated over a large bowl of salad from Spike’s grip. It was a pleasant sort of silence while the ponies milled about and prepared the cottage. Sunlight streamed in through open windows, and birds, rabbits and all kinds of little animals occupied the windowsills watching them at work. Even if Pinkie Pie pretended for a second she liked quiet, she knew it wouldn’t last. Twilight had that odd sort of look about her that usually heralded an incoming doozy.
“Can you believe ponies in Manehatten generally don’t do group songs?”
Pinkie Pie blinked. Suddenly, she felt, very, very cold. “But—but how do they get anything done, then?”
Rainbow Dash snorted from over by the couch where she was taking her break. “That’s lame. The Canterlot ponies are down with a good song, at least.”
“Speaking of down with a good song,” Pinkie said, squinting at the open door that led to the kitchen. “Spike, what gives? Nothing?”
“Uh, I’m more into duets, really,” Spike called. “Sorry!”
“Much as I love to hear Spikey-wikey sing, I have to say he would’ve ruined the symmetry,” Rarity said. “Now do be a dear and help me find the rest of the silverware. I only found two forks.”
“Um. I only have two of those, sorry,” Fluttershy said. “For you and Twilight. Since, well, you know.” She shrugged and lifted a hoof.
“Well, that all only matters if she shows up at all, don’t it?” Applejack huffed, casually kicking the couch where Dash lay when she passed by. “And get up, you. We need to get a few more pillows for seating.”
Twilight nodded, a strained smile on her lips as she looked to Pinkie. “As much as I hate to say it, we have to consider the possibility that she might not show up this time either. I know you were upset last time—”
“She wasn’t very upset,” Fluttershy said. “She, um, well, she just kind of disappeared. You were the one who—”
“Anyway!” Twilight said. “She might get called away on royal business, that’s my point.”
Pinkie Pie nodded along with every word, and once Twilight was done speaking, shook her head once. “She won’t.”
“As long as you’re aware it’s a possibility,” Twilight said. “I don’t like it either.”
“She won’t,” Pinkie said. Perhaps Twilight hadn’t seen Celestia’s face, but Pinkie had. She knew, and if she didn’t know, she’d still pretend she did simply because she wanted it so very much.
Twilight closed her eyes for a second and rubbed that spot she rubbed very often when she was talking to Pinkie Pie. Pinkie’s own little spot of Twilight forehead territory.
“You can’t know that, and while I know I shouldn’t get into an argument with you on theoretical things that have no bearing on reality—”
Pinkie Pie perked an ear up at a noise and glanced past Twilight. “Theories?”
Twilight’s reply was forestalled by a faint rustle of wings, a team of pegasi and a familiar gilded chariot swooping past the windows outside. A moment later, Rainbow Dash winced in sympathy as the royal guard struggled to bring the vehicle to a halt on the crooked little path. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she tried to say was drowned out by the sharp blare of a horn. Once that died down, it was shortly followed by a gruff voice that did not sound like it enjoyed the company of other, more polite inside voices.
“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Celestia of Equestria!”
“I think that’s her,” Pinkie Pie whispered as loudly as she could.
“My little ponies, hello to you all,” Celestia said, ducking past the door frame as she entered. The six ponies and baby dragon all sketched quick bows that were quickly dismissed by a smile. “I am glad to see you. Ah. Iron Scales, Long Stride, you may go. I don’t think I will need a guard detail tonight,” she added.
While Pinkie shrugged out of her saddlebags, Twilight glanced every which way, subtly inching to the side and in front of the table as if her body could obscure the room entire. It didn’t take more than second for her to give up on that, instead trotting over to briefly cross necks with the princess.
“We didn’t expect you so early, sorry. We’re almost done, though.”
“Oh that’s quite alright. I should have told you; Luna’s apparently making me take every Sunday off from now on,” Celestia said, a bemused smile playing across her face.
“She can do that?” Dash asked.
“Not as a princess, but as a sister. Besides, she already takes Thursdays off, and that was at my request.”
“Thursdays?” Applejack asked. “Why in all things good’re you making her take a day off in the middle of the week?”
Rarity squinted at the table, carefully nudging one of the plates an inch to the side as she spoke. “It’s commonly held that the stars are more beautiful on Thursdays as of late. If you’re not employed in a normal job, why not?”
At that, Celestia smiled. “Rather, the stars always shine brighter then precisely because she takes the day off, so it’s the other way around. All the same, I did intend to make the journey here the last time, and I am sorry to have disappointed.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Fluttershy said, the others muttering words to the same effect.
Pinkie nodded as fast as her neck let her. “You’re here now! D’you wanna eat? We should do something fun afterwards! Rainbow Dash brought the family edition of Battleclouds. Oh, we can probably have fun while eating, too, but salads are terrible for food fights.”
Rainbow Dash perked an ear and peered over at the salad bowl as if she intended to challenge just that, and the other ponies shifted nervously—or opened their mouths looking all frowny like they were about to say terribly boring things like “no.” Applejack beat them to it.
“Can’t we just eat? I’m right powerful hungry.”
Celestia chuckled and headed for the table at that. “The food looks lovely, and I’d love to play a game afterwards. I’m sure the rules can’t have changed that much in a thousand years.”
Pinkie Pie giggled and clapped her hooves together when Celestia moved the heron one step to the left on the game board. The salad bowl was all but empty, the dishes were cleared, and game pieces littered the table that was surrounded by seven ponies and one baby dragon, bringing the fifth round to an end.
“You win again!” Pinkie said.
“I’ve never seen anypony play like that before,” Twilight said, her brow knit in thought.
Spike grunted as he strained to reach for the middle of the table, grabbing the last of his pieces. “I thought you said you hadn’t played Battleclouds before, but you’ve won the last three rounds out of five.”
“Um, I said I was sorry. I could have let you have the first win if you really wanted it, Spike,” Fluttershy said.
“I don’t get it. Attacking with all the clouds always works,” Dash muttered.
“Yes, well, perhaps you’d have more success if you varied your tactics a little,” Rarity said.
“Hey, I always win against you!”
Rarity huffed. “It’s hardly my fault that the game doesn’t reward setups that are pleasing to the eye.”
Celestia cleared her throat, glancing back and forth between the ponies. If Pinkie Pie didn’t know better, she’d have thought the princess looked the teeniest little bit nervous or embarrassed. It wasn’t that she actually knew better, either. It just took a lot of effort not to blurt out that the game was really simple and that Pinkie had let them win all day; you just needed to get the right result on the dice, and that was cake.
But no. Nervous.
“I’m sorry if I’m being a poor sport, but a variant of this game was played a long, long time ago, and when it all comes down to it, it’s just tactics. I suppose I know a thing or two on that front.”
And then she smiled again. Just like the smiles that she tried to suppress every time she won. Pinkie Pie had seen many smiles over the course of the years. Smiles were her forté. Her every action was towards that goal; to make ponies happy, to make ponies smile, but Celestia had so very many of them.
Pinkie had seen Celestia smile when the gang of friends returned from some particularly dangerous and fun adventure. Proud and beautiful smiles that said “I knew you could do it.” She’d seen the restrained smiles that Celestia wore when she’d rather not. Smiles that weren’t. Just now, she’d seen smiles that said “I won, and that was more fun than I had expected, but I shouldn’t smile too wide because it wouldn’t be right,” and smiles that said “I’m sorry if I’m being a poor sport.” The last one had been just a moment ago, but it was different.
And none of them were the smile Pinkie wanted. If there was a pony, a mule or a griffin in Equestria Pinkie had met and not made smile, she’d feel awful. Rarity had said that some smiles were bigger on the inside, and Rarity was a very smart pony, but even if that was the case she wasn’t after a smile. She was after the smile. The smile that said what all smiles should say.
Pinkie Pie shook her head and smiled, rejoining the conversation, and as she did, she smiled. Here were her best friends, and they were having a good time. She smiled because she was happy.
“Actually, before we move on,” Celestia said, sitting up and stretching. “I would like to say my thanks.”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head, pulling her eyes away from the long, pretty neck. Everypony- and dragon sat upright, but Celestia made a dismissive little gesture.
“It is nothing much, I just don’t want to forget to thank Fluttershy for being a wonderful hostess,” she said, making the pegasus so named blush and nod before Celestia turned her eyes to Pinkie Pie. “And to Pinkie Pie for, ah, let’s just say ‘convincing’ me to come.”
“Convincing, harassing,” Applejack said, triggering a low set of giggles around the table. The only one not to laugh was Celestia. The princess nodded slowly at Applejack.
“You may joke, but I’m both sincere and indebted.”
This time, the angle of the princessely lips wasn’t quite as important as the words they spoke. Pinkie bolted upright and hopped on the spot.
“Ooh! Debt! Does this mean I get a wish?”
“That’s for leprechauns, Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy said. Another round of giggles, and this time Celestia laughed the loudest. Pinkie deflated and nodded. Celestia didn’t even have a green coat, so there wasn’t much point in arguing.
“Aw. That’s a shame, because I’d have wished for you to come visit again.”
Another smile from Celestia. Still not the right one, but this one was close. Rarity made some cute little noise or other, Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, but Celestia was quiet, looking around the table with painstaking slowness.
“Well. Fortunately, I have the power to grant myself wishes, and it may be that I wish to come visit more often. It wouldn’t cost me to come visit every other Sunday, and with luck, it might give Luna some peace too, to know I’m in good company.”
“Hay yeah we’re good company,” Dash cheered, pumping a hoof in the air. For a moment the table was a delicious riot of mutters and cheers and all things good besides. Pinkie threw a hoof-ful of confetti into the air for good measure.
“Aw that’s great!” she said. “See, Twilight?”
“See what?” Twilight said.
“It’s so much more fun when we’re just being good friends, or even great friends, and when we’re not being all weird like when I said Celestia was cute, which is obvious, I mean, duh!”
It was rather remarkable how quickly the noise in the room could slow down and die, much like a bicycle with its wheels suddenly removed.
“Um,” Fluttershy said, as the first to speak, or rather, not-speak. Her cheeks were flushed red.
Rarity cleared her throat rather noisily. “Well. You’ll forgive Pinkie Pie, I hope. She’s, uh, gone heavy on the—”
“Walnuts?” Spike supplied, glancing over towards the kitchen entrance.
Twilight said nothing this time, the unicorn content to look up at her mentor, and while Pinkie Pie felt a little bit like sinking back down onto her pillow, Celestia hadn’t budged. She sat rather still, the selfsame content smile in place.
“Pinkie Pie can of course say exactly what she wants,” Celestia said, glancing over at Pinkie Pie. Their eyes met only briefly before they fled back to Twilight. “That said, I believe the royalty back in Canterlot would get a laugh out of that.”
Rainbow Dash snorted and giggled, and Applejack guffawed. Pinkie Pie watched all her friends make everything from riotous laughter to polite and muted giggles, but she didn’t much feel like laughing along this time. It wasn’t as if her friends would ever hurt her, or mean to, but if she had said something funny, she couldn’t quite understand what. She looked up at Celestia again, but the pretty white pony wasn’t looking back at her this time. That made everything a lot harder.
“Ah. About time to lower the sun,” Celestia said. She closed her eyes, and her horn slowly acquired a faint sheen.
“Here?”
Rainbow Dash’s words hung in the air, and Celestia opened her eyes, horn muted and dull white again.
“I mean, can you do it just... sitting here? Like that?” Dash gaped.
“Oh. Well,” Celestia glanced about, as if there was something or somepony else around. After a moment’s silence, she rose to stand. “It would probably be more fitting to go outside. I suppose I could use some air as well. I will be back shortly.”
“I could make us some tea?” Fluttershy said.
“I’ll give you a hoof with that,” Applejack said, rolling her neck and standing up. Pinkie Pie sat as still as she could, watching as the ponies spread around the room. Applejack and Fluttershy disappeared into the kitchen and Rainbow Dash reclaimed her spot on the couch. Pinkie didn’t move at all when Rarity and Spike began clearing the table, nor did she budge when Twilight moved over to a nearby bookcase.
Pinkie frowned. It was a very small, very cautious frown, not a mopey frown that meant she was angry or even disappointed, but it was sticky all the same. A cloying little frown that didn’t understand why she was dismissed and ignored, laughed at for the second time when she’d made a comment about Celestia.
About a princess, Twilight’s voice repeated in her head. Pinkie didn’t sit around and wait for another lecture from all the ponies in her head. She got up and headed out the front door chasing after a smile, biting down on that silly frown to turn it into a grin of her own.
The sun became part of the distant horizon, much like a bit of butter subjected to a hot frying pan. Flattened and smooshed. It was a little sad, but the colors that bled from from the orb made it worth it. Pinkie’s every step was slower, and she was barely halfway to the bridge by the brook outside of Fluttershy’s cottage when she had to halt for a moment. She’d seen almost as many sunsets as she had sunrises, but this one was prettier than most. Yellow mixed in with pinks and blues to weave a sky almost as colorful as the mane and tail of the pony who made it.
Celestia looked very different when she wasn’t under the full sunlight. Very different, and so very much the same. The princess pony stood on the bridge ahead, her horn brightly lit yet dying as Pinkie approached; without daylight on her form, she was darker, as was the entire world, but she lost none of her color.
“Wow. That’s a super-duper pretty sunset,” Pinkie said, bouncing up on the broad stone railing of the bridge. This way, she was taller than even Celestia, and that was worth a grin and a giggle.
“Thank you,” Celestia said. She glanced over at Pinkie and walked up to the side of the small bridge, peering over the railing at the brook below. A pair of otters looked back up at the two ponies, and then promptly went back to their otter-y business. Just like most critters, really.
And unlike most ponies.
Pinkie slipped off the railing and rested her head on the flat stones, twisting around until she looked up at Celestia. “Why are ponies so silly around you all the time?”
Celestia opened her mouth right away as if to reply, but no words came. She closed it again, and turned very slowly to look at Pinkie. Pinkie thought the princess looked a little curious herself, brows furrowed.
“Most would say it’s respect.”
Pinkie pursed her lips, and Celestia shook her head before continuing.
“I don’t think it’s right either. They might think it is, but that makes it sound like ponies who act differently don’t respect me. I wouldn’t accuse my sister of not respecting me. Not ever. Nor would I suggest you don’t. Many respect the rules and regulations, even if there is no malice in it. They respect crown and implications, not me.”
Pinkie nodded and swallowed. Celestia still looked more thoughtful than anything, but the words filled Pinkie with an odd sort of sadness she couldn’t describe. A hole had been gouged somewhere, and Pinkie could no more locate it than she could fill it.
“I’m trying to change that, though. I don’t know how, but it’s something I want. For myself. I didn’t think about it until recently. I think you’re to blame.” Celestia arched a brow, and the darkness lifted a little bit.
“Oh wow, thanks! I think? Is that a good thing?”
Celestia chuckled and lifted a foreleg to lean on the railing. “I’m still trying to work that out.”
“But you’re happy, right?”
No thought, this time. No frowny thinking princess. An automatic smile and an equally mechanical nod.
“I’m content, yes.”
“That’s not at all what I asked, silly.” Pinkie prodded Celestia in the side. “I asked if you were happy. Totally not the same thing!”
Celestia blinked once, then twice more, staring at the spot where Pinkie had poked her as she expected to find a smudge of pink or something equally crazy. At length, she shook her head. “I think you lost me.”
“I asked if you’re happy. Happy is like this!” Pinkie brought out her broadest, happiest grin for a moment; it was almost sad to let it go afterwards. “You said you’re content. Content is like, oh wow, I don’t even know if I can go that low. That’s like getting three muffins when you ask for a dozen, but you say you’re fine with it anyway because you didn’t like muffins that much to begin with—oh no, no, that’s worse, that’s far worse. Still, you get the idea!”
For a little while, it looked like Celestia really didn’t get the idea. She peered down at Pinkie with big, wide-open eyes, but even Pinkie could see that her sage wisdom bounced off. That, or she had something on her nose.
Pinkie licked her nose. Nothing.
“I... am satisfied, if that is what you are asking,” Celestia said.
“No, no, no!” Pinkie stuck her tongue out as she thought. “Not satisfied, not okay, not content, but happy! You should be the happiest pony ever. Almost everypony I know who have jobs or hobbies or whatever, they’re happy because they love what they do. Because they look past their snouts! Or manes if they have really long manes, I guess. And you’re like, the most biggest most important pony ever, and everypony loves what you do! It’s just like you’re always throwing a party, every day! Raising the sun? Thanks for that by the way. It’s really nice to have light out, but I mean, wow. I’m kind of jealous, except not really.”
Celestia let out a breath rather audibly. “It’s not quite the same. What I do is duty, and it brings satisfaction. I’m of course pleased—”
“Pleased is good! See, now we’re getting somewhere!” Pinkie said. “But if you’re not happy, it’s like a baker who keeps baking these amazing treats without taking time to think about how many customers she’s making happy! I love that! When I host a party, the best part is making sure everypony has fun, and when I bake a particularly tasty batch of dandelion muffins, I just have to rush over and give one to Fluttershy and watch her face as she enjoys it!”
That got something of a reaction. That, or Celestia was looking away because she was still annoyed that Pinkie Pie had interrupted her. The princess peered down at the babbling brook again. She did sound a little annoyed.
“If you are asking me to do something, I’m not quite sure what that is, ignoring the fact that you have no authority to ask me to do anything at all.”
Pinkie Pie squinted. “I don’t think I do either, I got a little distracted and now I’m thinking about baking something really tasty. Hey, do you want to grab another game of Battleclouds? Or maybe Monopoly? Applejack is really good at Monopoly!”
Celestia drew breath and closed her eyes for a second. The tension that almost was, was no more, and that was the end of that.
“I think I can make time for one last round, yes.”
Pinkie joined Celestia as the larger pony started back towards the cottage. Again she failed to give up that one smile, but she didn’t look unhappy. She usually never had, and that was a start, but today the princess made less than half as much sense as Pinkie was used to. She put on a smile twice as bright to make up for it.
“There you are,” Fluttershy said once they entered the cottage again, the pegasus perking up. “Oh. Both of you. Um, green, black, or—well, those are all I have, sorry.”
“I’ll have what she’s having!” Pinkie said, leaning against Celestia. The larger pony tensed up a little and cleared her throat.
“Ah. Black. Please. And then I really have to be going, I think.”
“‘Reckon you and Fluttershy can start at the top of the wall, R.D?”
“Got it. Let’s go, Fluttershy. Grab the bucket, I get the brush!”
“Oh. Okay.” Fluttershy trotted over to grab the smallest of the buckets of paint arrayed by the barn’s southern wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Pinkie Pie saw Applejack nodding and rounding on the two remaining ponies. The only real reason she noticed was that she happened to be one of those ponies; she herself was rather preoccupied. The object of her attention was just too shiny to look away.
“The rest of us start from down here. Pinkie and I can begin at the bottom. Rarity, you do the detail-work if you fancy. I was gonna have Twi cover the bits too high for us to reach and get Fluttershy and Rainbow to start on the roof, but I don’t see her nowhere here.”
Rarity frowned and joined Applejack in looking to the horizon. The road was clear all the way to Ponyville, not that Pinkie was really looking. The earth mare kept on watching something completely different. It was funny, really. It rose to hang high in the sky every day, but still she felt she could stare for hours. It reminded her a little bit of the time she’d realized how fantastic punch ladles really were, even though she’d used them for hundreds of parties before that point.
“I've no idea what may be keeping her, sorry,” Rarity said, eyeing the paint and the tools critically. “Now, this will wash off, yes? I do so detest stains, but if this necessitates a bath, so be it.”
Applejack sighed. “Rarity? We’re painting a barn. It’s not exactly gonna be watercolors or foals’ paints now is it?”
“Oh. Ah. Well, I may have to head by to Boutique and change into something more, well. Protective.”
“Just stick to doing the corners and you’ll be fine, sugar. If you get it on ya, it’s ‘cause you spilt it yourself.” Applejack smirked. “‘Course, if you think you’ll be sloppy, you go get your painting galoshes.”
Rarity glowered. “If this ends with me in an emergency spa session, I’m sending you the bill.”
“You do that,” Applejack chuckled when Rarity finally broke into a smile. “Seriously, I’m mighty grateful y’all came to help me out. Let’s get to work, Pinkie. Uh. Pinkie Pie? Fancy painting a barn with me? Hello?”
Pinkie finally gave up her little staring contest and turned towards the voice. It didn’t help a whole lot. The world was still deliciously and painfully bright, and somepony had replaced Applejack with a bright glowing blob. As she focused, the blob slowly morphed and settled as a proper, Applejack-shaped—albeit frowning—pony.
“You alright there sugarcube? You’ve been starin’ up into the sky for minutes, now.”
“Sure! I was just looking at the sun. That’s where it lives during the day.”
“Couldn’t help but notice even if I tried. Starin’, just like parents tell their foals not to. What’s the matter?”
Pinkie Pie stuck her tongue out at an angle and chewed it while thinking. “I don’t think anything’s the matter, really. Everything’s a-okay and getting even better! Where’s Twilight?”
Applejack cast another glance at the raw and unpainted barn as if there were answers to be found in the woodwork itself. “I’ve been wondering the same myself. We best just get started.”
Pinkie Pie bounced over to grab herself a nice big brush, dipping it in an open bucket of deep red paint. Without hesitation, she slapped it onto the side of the barn and started spreading the colorful goo around. Rarity hummed to herself, and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were talking about clouds or clowns somewhere above. Pinkie Pie was barely getting started on contemplating the virtues of a montage to pass the time when a sharp pop interrupted the five busy ponies, depositing a purple mare on the grass behind them.
“I’m here! Sorry I’m late,” Twilight called, rubbing her face and groaning. “I’m really sorry, I meant to be on time.”
Applejack raised a brow. “Sug’, we’ve barely just gotten started. Grab a brush. Think you can do the stuff in the middle? Saves me and Pinkie getting ladders and everything.”
“Ah. Sure. In a moment. I think I’ll just begin... here,” Twilight said, a smile slightly too wide adorning her face as she levitated over a brush. Taking a spot far away from the others—right next to Pinkie Pie—Twilight applied brush to wood without bothering with trivialities such as paint. Her eyes weren’t on the barn, but on Pinkie.
“Wow,” Pinkie said around the handle of her own brush. “Are you painting the barn barn-colored?”
Twilight glanced about and lowered her voice to a whisper. That, more than anything, drew everypony’s attention, but she didn’t seem to notice when the majority of the other brushes and rollers slowed down.
“I received another letter from Princess Celestia.”
Pinkie gasped. “Oh, is that why you’re late? What’s she saying? She was here only just a few days ago! Is she coming to visit again already?”
“No!” Twilight hissed. “She wrote to thank us for a wonderful time.”
Pinkie blinked as many times as her eyes would let her. “That’s a good thing. Isn’t that a good thing? You’re making it sound like the opposite of a good thing, unless the thing is upside-down.”
Twilight sighed, and Pinkie Pie peered past the unicorn to where Rarity and Rainbow Dash were slowly working their way closer, ears perked. Applejack merely rolled her eyes, and Fluttershy was powerless but to follow since she held Rainbow Dash’s paint bucket.
“It is a good thing,” Twilight said, puffing out her cheeks and exhaling. “It is, and it really is great to hear, but the reason I’m telling you this is because she also admitted she felt a little confused by your words.”
“That’s okay. My words are a little confusing to me, too.” Pinkie nodded with grave sympathy. “Yesterday I said ‘framdulendipitous’, and I don’t even know what that means except that it’s probably great.”
“No!” Twilight groaned. “Your comments about her. You’re sending some very, very weird signals.”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head. “No I’m not.”
Twilight let her brush drop and turned around to face Pinkie full-on. “Pinkie Pie? You’re making her think you’re, well, that you’re into her.”
Pinkie squinted, let the words bounce around her head a few times, then tilted her head the other way. When this yielded no results, she looked past Twilight to where Rarity, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy all crowded around Twilight.
“Y’all should be ashamed,” Applejack muttered from the other edge of the wall.
“What she’s saying,” Rarity said, making Twilight jump in surprise when she stepped up to her side. “Is that you may be giving Celestia an impression that isn’t altogether correct. I doubt she blames you, but it’s probably terribly confusing.”
Pinkie Pie sat down on the ground and twisted around to put her brush down on the paint bucket with the utmost care. So prepared, she turned to face her friends again; a rather massively uncomfortable Fluttershy, a smiling Rarity, a broadly grinning Rainbow Dash, and a Twilight who still looked back and forth between the first three with no small amount of indignation.
“Okay. Try again,” Pinkie said. She perked both her ears up for good measure and rolled her shoulders, preparing to be the best listener in all of Equestria for at least half a minute. Give or take twenty seconds.
When it became obvious none of the others intended to leap at the chance, Fluttershy took a single step forward, her eyes flitting about and ears pinned to the back of her head. “Well. Um. Do you remember last summer when Lyra kept visiting Bon-Bon’s candy stand just to talk to her, even though she rarely bought anything?”
“Uh-huh!”
Fluttershy nibbled her lip before she continued. She spoke very slowly, much like how Pinkie had seen her try to coax scared animals out of their dens. “Maybe you also remember how, in the end, Bon-Bon told her that she couldn’t loiter unless she really had something she wanted to buy. She was very nice about it, but—”
“And then Lyra asked her out!” Rarity clopped her hooves together. “Oh my word, it was terribly romantic. Love from a distance forced into bloom by a gentle misunderstanding, and then become a relationship full of passion. Oh, I can see it now.”
“You saw it then,” Applejack said, nudging Rarity on the rump so she could get working on the wall behind her. “Was me and you at market when it happened, and as I recall, it was pretty darn straightforward. Knew there was a reason I liked Lyra.”
“Yes, well. The memory is rather more elaborate in my head by now, and I think I prefer my version to Lyra’s awkward words of ‘Uh, yeah, wanna grab a snack? You’re cute.’” Rarity muttered to herself and crossed her forelegs in front of her chest.
Pinkie Pie poked Fluttershy’s snout with her own. “Of course I remember it. I staged a party for their half-year-getting-together anniversary! I really do love a good story, but what does this have to do with me?”
Rainbow Dash snickered. “Pinkie Pie, Princess Celestia thinks you want to smooch her.”
“Oh. Oh!” Pinkie Pie gasped, her mouth forming a perfect circle until it didn’t any more. She shrugged and bent one of her ears. “That’s not the same at all.”
Twilight leaned in, eyes trained straight on Pinkie Pie, though she smiled and her voice was calm and patient. “You’re confusing her by sending some mixed signals, that’s all.”
Pinkie thought about that, and the more she did, the sillier it sounded. She didn’t laugh or even smile, but the idea was stranger to her than a milkshake with salt. She began to nod. She had, after all, heard Twilight’s words, but it resolved itself as a shake of the head in the end.
She hadn’t been trying to fool anypony. That would be lying, and Pinkie Pie rarely lied unless there was a very specific and very good reason for it. Princess Celestia really was pretty, and she was far more fun than Pinkie had thought for the longest time. She was twice as important as even the cashier at the local joke shop, but she wasn’t half as snooty. Rather, the princess was as nice as the sun was bright. As her still-aching eyes confirmed, the sun was really bright.
Beyond that, much more important than everything else put together with a cherry on top, Pinkie knew there was even more to see if she could only get Celestia to smile. She wanted that more than anything, and not just for the joy it would bring herself. For the pretty princess, too. Kisses fit well into it, all things considered.
“I don’t think they’re mixed at all! I should probably try that. The smooching thing.” Pinkie said.
Her friends had been rather understanding of her silent little introspective lapse, all things considered, but those words got a reaction. Rather, a host of them. Twilight’s jaw dropped, Rarity’s eyes widened, Fluttershy squeaked, Dash laughed, and Applejack gave a single short guffaw before she picked her own brush up and nudged Dash aside, continuing her efforts to paint her barn.
Twilight ground a hoof against her forehead. “Pinkie, I know I’m saying this a lot, but that’s impossible.”
Dash frowned, taking to the air above Twilight. “Hey, Celestia asked you to butt out like, three times already.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Fluttershy said, shrinking back to hide behind Rarity with a muttered ‘sorry’ when Pinkie glanced her way.
Rarity herself raised a brow, lips pursed for a moment. “Well, it is terribly romantic, even if it’s implausible. I mean, if I were to play advocate for possibilities here.”
Twilight looked like she was about to say something very loud, but instead she closed her eyes for a second and sat. “Alright, fine. That is, ignoring that she’s a princess—”
Pinkie nodded along. “Yes sirree, ignoring!”
“—the ruler of the kingdom, and really busy!”
“Hey, Luna rules Equestria too.” Dash crossed her forelegs.
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Yes. And you’re not looking to go and ask her out on a date, are you?”
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, and promptly shut it again, rubbing her jaw with a free hoof. A grin slowly spread across her face.
“Oh come on!” Twilight cried, triggering a burst of laughter from the colorful flier.
“Of course not! Jeez, calm down. She couldn’t keep up anyway.”
Applejack grunted as she pushed Pinkie Pie out of the way. “Comin’ through. Don’t mind me. Just painting my barn here.”
Twilight grabbed a hold of the farmpony. “Applejack. Please, please talk some sense into her.”
Applejack put her brush down, gave a rather demonstrative sigh, and turned to face the crowd. Pinkie beamed. Applejack always said really clever stuff when she paused before she spoke.
“Ooh, you look like you’ve got a speech! Want me to grab my port-a-podium?”
“Speech? Sorry to disappoint you there, Pinkie.” Applejack shrugged. “I just thought Rainbow already said what needs to be said at the start. The Princess can make her own decisions. She doesn’t need you actin’ as some kind of secretary, Twi’.”
Twilight swallowed and nodded, looking away for a moment. Pinkie stuck her tongue out and squinted, looking for an opportunity for a make-up hug, but Twilight looked like she was in a talky mood, not a huggy mood.
“It’s just that the princess said she’s not looked into anything like love or romance, that she’s not had any suitors for as long as she could remember. I still don’t understand, and I think you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
Fluttershy wrung her hooves. “That’s not really, um, well. Like Applejack says, it’s not really what you—I mean. Don’t you think you’re just being a little protective?”
Dash waved a leg in the air. “Hey, if it was important, then maybe we should remember I’m the one who said it?”
“And if that’s the case, that’s understandable,” Rarity added, neatly stepping in front of Rainbow Dash. “The princess has always meant a lot to you.”
Pinkie nodded and smiled. “It’s okay!” she said, though she’d quite frankly lost track of exactly what she was agreeing to or with, but everypony else seemed to be getting happier, and fast.
Twilight deflated visibly, her attention flitting between all her friends. “I—okay. Fine. It’s besides the point. It’s not my place. I know. I know.”
“If you know, then act like it. And it’d help if y’all could give me a hoof with my barn while you’re at it,” Applejack said, picking her brush up once more. “Paint’s gonna dry uneven if we wait much longer.”
Twilight looked up and locked eyes with Pinkie Pie, who smiled right back. “I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie, I really am. Just promise me one thing, okay? Think this through. Don’t do anything rash. You’re very important to me, and so is the princess. I mean it. Think for a bit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The look Twilight gave her was one of those that spoke of a moment of infinite gravity. Pinkie Pie paused the song in her head for a moment and forced herself to stop. To take a short few breaths and nod. Her eyes kept trying to dart up past Twilight and past the barn to steal a glance at the sun, but she kept her attention solely on Twilight. Without hesitation, her left hoof sketched a simple gesture across her chest.
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to fly.”
Twilight’s sigh of relief was immense. “Okay. Thank you. Just, um, yeah. That. That would be great. Give it a little while, and a lot of thought. Thinking is great.”
Pinkie nodded once more, but the second she’d done so, her eyes widened with sudden realization.
“Wait. Does ‘suitor’ mean what I think it does? Does this mean Celestia hasn’t kissed anypony in a thousand years, or maybe even never before? Ohmygosh! Do you think she’ll need practice partners? Rainbow Dash, Equestria needs you!”
The garden was empty, just like she’d hoped. During the palace lunch hour of high noon, those who liked to take their break outside would favor one of the many outwards-facing balconies, leaving the central palace garden deserted. It wasn’t as if she had something to hide, and hiding was quite the feat when the sun was at its zenith anyway. Granted, the very idea that one of the rulers of Equestria should need to skulk around her own palace was laughable, but ruling was equal parts subtlety and subterfuge on some days.
Celestia froze mid-stride between two ancient oaks, perking her ears. There was no noise except for the clucking of the fountain at the centre of the garden, and the rose bushes that defined the paths left precious little room for hiding, yet still she knew she’d been wrong. She was not entirely alone. And when she wasn’t entirely sure, when something almost eluded her, she already knew exactly who it was. Celestia suppressed a grin and tapped her hoof against the cobblestones in an expectant, rhythmic clop.
“Playing hide and seek with you always was frustrating,” Luna said. The younger sister looked decidedly displeased as she stepped out from behind a tree so slim, it should not have been able to hide her. “Late again? The pegasus guard have not been asked to prepare the royal chariot, and you are meant to be in Ponyville soon.”
Celestia poked the inside of her cheek. She could of course be indignant, but at present, it was a choice. An option. Instead, she decided it was far more pleasant to be amused. “Since when did you take it upon yourself to be my chaperone, little sister?”
“Since you started needing one, I imagine,” Luna said, immediately shaking her head and raising a hoof to forestall any protest. “Sorry. I’m only joking, of course. It is not in my place to question you. I just happened to visit the barracks and took notice of it.”
“I don’t think there is anything that is not in your place to ask.” Celestia shrugged, leaning in to cross necks with her. “I thought I would fly, that is all.”
Luna looked up at the taller princess, one brow arched. “Truly now? I must admit I’m surprised, but I see no problem with that. Why are you here, then?”
“I thought I would spare our good guards the trouble. Walking out the front door without an escort tends to cause a ruckus.”
“Ah. That,” Luna said. “I believe the officer staff was complaining for months after your sortie to Ponyville last year, after all that trouble with Twilight Sparkle’s little love spell mishap.”
“Precisely.” Celestia smiled. It was in fact that exact memory that had prompted the decision. Everything had worked out in the end, and her student and her friends had all learned so much from that little event. The fear and worry she had felt was long gone, but the memory of how good it had felt to fly back to Canterlot by herself lingered.
“Well?”
Celestia shook her head to clear it. “And? Is there something else?”
“Only an ‘and you should probably get going,’ sister,” Luna said, laughing. “You are giving us princesses a bad name and a reputation for tardiness.”
Celestia spread her wings, stretched her neck, and gave her sister a nod. It was far too easy to lose oneself in memories, to forget that new ones were made with every moment and every wingbeat. Slowly she rose above the garden treetops and the palace roofs until she found a likely strand of sunlight to follow, and then she was gone. For a single immeasurable instant, she was nowhere.
Equestria zipped past so fast it was a colorless blur even to her own senses, but with practiced ease she picked the strands of the world apart until she found what she was looking for: six ponies and one little dragon all stood inside a hollowed-out tree that was familiar to her. Seven gleaming little points of joy and warmth that guided her as surely as any star.
For the first time, she wondered if perhaps one of them hummed a little louder and glowed a little brighter at the prospect of her presence just now. The idea barely had time to enter her mind before she arrived, and then it was gone, scattered along the sunray she had ridden. Celestia opened her eyes and faced the familiar library, reaching out with her magic to push the door open.
“—and I don’t see how I can plan for what to wear without knowing where we’re going,” Rarity said, procuring a pout that would shame most of Canterlot’s models.
“If you don’t mind, I’d just like to know if it’s something scary,” Fluttershy said, giving Pinkie Pie a tentative smile from behind the cover of her own mane. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me, but, um, well, that ‘surprise skydiving picnic’ wasn’t my favorite.”
Celestia paused mid-stride, halfway inside the doorway and unannounced. It made for the first count of awkwardness since the time she’d accidentally chosen the wrong bathroom in her haste after one too many cups of tea. Behind her, a few ponies stopped and stared at the royal flank poking out from the library, and inside, the group of friends continued their debate in the middle of the ground floor.
Debate may have been too big a word for it, Celestia decided. Except for Rarity looking slightly sullen, none but Twilight seemed terribly engaged. In fact, Rainbow Dash and Spike didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the conversation at all, while Pinkie Pie was smiling as she always did. Celestia smiled to match, stealing a little inspiration from her most pink of subjects.
Twilight sighed and waved a hoof at nopony in particular. “If you want to blame somepony, then blame me. I’m the one who told Pinkie Pie it was okay.”
Pinkie Pie nodded her head rapidly, curls bouncing everywhere. “And nopony goes back on a promise, even if it’s made without cupcakes or any other pastries! Come on guys, it’ll be fun, I promise!”
“And while y’all are yapping away, there’s the guest of honor. Howdy.” Applejack tipped her hat, drawing all attention to the princess. Celestia stepped inside, pleased to see that there was little of the usual bowing and scraping this time around. She pulled the door shut with a touch of magic, returned the hug Twilight trotted over to deliver, and spared a moment to wonder at Pinkie’s rather unusual greeting. Rather than beaming, bouncing and bristling with mirth, the pink mare stared and bit her lower lip as though Celestia had presented her with a puzzle.
“Hello to you all. I suppose I should have knocked, but I’m used to having a herald. I take it we are not having lunch today? Is something wrong?”
Twilight shook her head and glanced back at all her friends. Suddenly, she was not Twilight Sparkle, library owner and independent student, but a nervous filly who stood before her mentor. Celestia raised a brow.
“No, uh, not really,” Twilight said. “I mean, not at all! Only, since we didn’t discuss where we would, well—”
“‘Hang out’, Twilight,” Dash supplied.
“Yes. Right. Since we didn’t discuss where we could hang out today—”
Rainbow Dash gave a low whistle and shook her head. “Whoa, no, sorry, that just sounds weird coming from you. Not cool. Try something else.”
Twilight groaned, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I told Pinkie Pie she could decide what we’d do, and apparently she’s planned a surprise for us. I hope it’s not a problem? I mean, I’m sure we could just head over to Rarity’s Boutique and eat instead if you want, or maybe find a restaurant?”
“Aw come on guys!” Pinkie’s lower lip wobbled precariously.
Celestia laughed and shook her head. “No, not at all. I’ve set this time aside for a reason, and so long as this involves the possibility of something to eat, I don’t mind. Please.”
Pinkie brightened considerably. “Tons of snacks, I promise! Come on, follow me! It’s just outside of town!”
“Outside of town?” Spike echoed, only slightly louder than the murmur triggered by Pinkie’s words. His protest was cut short when Twilight snuck her head underneath him and flipped the little dragon onto her back.
“Come on, Spike. We’ll keep our promises, and Pinkie will keep hers,” Twilight said, a strained smile shot Pinkie’s way, but the earth mare wasn’t looking at her; Pinkie’s eyes were on Celestia, and still the princess had no idea what to make of that odd look. She was getting used to the excess attention, and had even confided in her student about it, but now she found herself wondering if she’d forgotten to brush her coat this morning.
“You mean we’ll keep your promise,” Applejack said, grinning and nudging Twilight in passing. “As I recall, I was painting a barn, not makin’ treaties.”
“Yeah yeah, let’s go!” Dash said, taking off and setting for the library’s exit at a hover. “I bet I know where we’re going.”
“No spoilers!” Pinkie cried, hopping up to nudge Dash in the ribs.
Celestia pursed her lips and let herself fall behind, walking at the tail-end of the little troupe following in Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie’s wake out the door. It was a snap decision, and the magic took but a quarter second to enact. Her horn tingled, and a surge of magic washed over her, bringing her viewpoint closer to the ground. It was fortunate she’d used this spell so many times before; readjusting took only a moment. At least on her side of things.
“Whoa.”
Celestia smiled and glanced over her own shoulder at Rainbow Dash’s reaction, pretending at nothing. “Is something the matter?”
Applejack turned to see, and soon after, so did all the others with various exclamations of surprise, none louder than Twilight.
“A body morph spell!” Twilight practically squealed, doubling back to run in little circles around Celestia the unicorn, and Celestia smiled back. The brilliant white, blond-maned form was useful, but as much attention as she’d put into her simpler mane and tail, she didn’t bother changing the mark on her flank.
“I hardly mind public attention, but I figure that reactions might distract us from whatever it is Pinkie Pie has planned. It’s not really about deception, but it might save us some stares.”
“Not from me it won’t!” Pinkie called. “Oh wow, you make an awesome unicorn. Can you be an earth pony too? Ooh, what about a pegasus? Or a griffin?”
Twilight’s jaw went slack. “These spells are really difficult! The amount of magic needed to change ones’ shape like this is immense, it’s not for—for play.”
Celestia nodded along with her student’s words. “Power is never to be taken lightly.”
Pinkie Pie hung her head and nodded. It bothered Celestia far more than it should. Her first instinct was to say something to soften her own words. Whenever Celestia opened her mouth, the correct words tended to tumble out as if on their own accord, but this time, she had to fetch them herself. “Well, that being as it may, you had something to show me? Or rather, us? I believe I was promised snacks.”
Pinkie angled herself to follow one of the major streets leading from the library. “I did! Right this way, girls, dragons and princesses-in-hiding!”
Despite Pinkie’s best and loudest efforts, the disguise did its part. Nopony looked twice at somepony who at least appeared to fit in. Instead, the ponies of Ponyville looked to the others in the little group that travelled the streets. As they went through the centre of the town, ponies nodded politely to Rarity, exchanged smiles with Fluttershy or greetings with Applejack or the others—and all, down to the last pony, returned Pinkie’s exuberant hellos and how-are-yous. Moreso even than the banquet where she’d put herself on the sideline, Celestia was a ghost, a side-show to Pinkie Pie. It was equal parts odd and humbling to pass the townscape by, completely eclipsed by the pony who was the true and brighter sun of the community.
“I didn’t realize you liked surprises.”
Celestia tilted her head in query. She’d not noticed Fluttershy dropping back to walk at her side. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, well, maybe it’s wrong to say you look like you like it, but I just mean to say you’re very, um, calm and okay with it. I was just thinking about how I’m so busy some days with my little animal friends and my garden, surprises are usually always bad.” Fluttershy shrugged and smiled, averting her gaze. “Pinkie Pie always plans fun things, but I just thought that since you rule all of Equestria, you might not like surprises at all. Sorry.”
Celestia fixed her eyes on the cobblestones for a dozen strides. “I’d think the same of me if I were you.”
Fluttershy looked up at her again, clearing her throat and leaving her wings half spread. “Oh. Okay.”
“That’s not a very good answer, is it?” Celestia chuckled when the pegasus risked a small shake of her head to go with a sheepish smile. “All I mean is that things aren’t always that simple when it comes to surprises.”
That seemed to satisfy Fluttershy, and if it didn’t, she gave no indication; the yellow mare dipped her head and left Celestia with her thoughts. Together, the eight companions trotted through the streets and on to a smaller road winding out of Ponyville. Soon the buildings were replaced with fields, and not long after, they were mounting a small hill just outside of town. Wherever they were headed, it was clear that something was up; stallions, mares and foals, most in groups, trotted along the same road as they, and Rainbow Dash was clearly excited about something.
Whatever the others talked about, Celestia did not know, more than busy with her own thoughts. She felt anticipation. That much was obvious, and anticipation was rare enough, but Celestia didn’t mind the threat of a surprise one bit either. Though she kept her features schooled, she frowned inwardly. It was well and good that Fluttershy was satisfied with Celestia’s vague answer, because the princess in question wasn’t sure she understood it. Safety and stability for her subjects had always been paramount, but she herself had ventured far outside of her usual habits in a matter of weeks. Rather, she had been led, and she found she did not care to object.
Objecting did cross her mind when the ferris wheel came into view, but she decided to keep that to herself for the time being. Pinkie Pie bounced up and down on the spot when they crested the hill, giving them a good view of the small valley beyond.
“Tadaa!”
“Ah. The amusement park,” Rarity said, brows reaching for the sky.
“Yeah, thats what all the fliers in town were for. Awesome!” Dash cheered, soon after joined by a gasp from a big-eyed Spike who seemed content only to mouth the single word of “rollercoaster” as it were some treat he sought to devour.
If the royal memory served, the location below was called Everglimmer Valley, but there was precious little left of the natural landscape that was not covered in gaudy colors and blinking lights. From their vantage point, they could see a host of roads and paths all leading to the bottom of the valley that usually served as a rather unremarkable crossroads. Ponies streamed in from all directions, many passing the group by in heading to what was now a noisy hub of merriment. It wasn’t as if the amusement park had torn down any of the natural beauty of the place; rather, if had seamlessly merged with the landscape.
A huge ferris wheel towered over the rest of the amusement park, and a wooden rollercoaster criss-crossed the park’s area, at one point wending around a hill on the far side of the valley. Beneath and between the trees of the lush valley floor, a host of smaller rides, stalls and stores hid; sugary scents wafted past them, and the giggles from ponies riding the teacups could be heard all the way to the top of the hill. To top it all off, the small river that crossed the landscape had been converted into a log flume. Even as they watched, a shape set out from a tower in the far distance, ponies screaming in delight as they disappeared out of sight between the trees.
“Not just an amusement park, it’s the amusement park!” Pinkie said, trotting on the spot. “It’s the Sugar Sisters’ Wandering Wonderland! They have, oh wow, I don’t even know where to begin, they have everything, and they’re coming to Ponyville for the first time!”
Twilight leaned forward, as if she didn’t quite believe her eyes. “How can this be a ‘wandering’ anything? And why haven’t I heard of them? This place is huge!”
Pinkie giggled. “Silly, it’s basically Equestria’s biggest travelling party, you wouldn’t know them. I would. And I do! Lucky me!”
“Even I saw the posters around town,” Rarity said, grinning wryly. “It’s hardly the talk of the town, but one notices these things. I had my suspicions, but I simply didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Celestia rolled her jaw as she rifled through her considerable mental library. She meant to stretch her wings before she spoke, but she had no such luxury. The unicorn princess’ sides itched, and she couldn’t help but glance at her own wingless back.
“To answer your question? Magic,” she said, smiling at her student. “Impressive amounts of it. The ‘sisters’ who founded it lived some two hundred years ago. It used to be a circus. Now it’s run by a large group, most of them unicorns. They’ve received quite a few warnings because of the impact their spells have had on their surroundings. I wrote the last one myself after they ruined a village’s crops.”
Celestia’s smile grew wider still as her eyes danced across the distant theme park. All too seldom did she get to see the direct results of her actions and decrees, making this a rare treat. “It seems they have taken it to heart, though I’ll certainly have some of my staff visit this place after they’ve vacated the premises. Just in case.”
“It looks very noisy,” Fluttershy said, though it looked as if even the quiet mare herself was unsure whether or not that would be a deterrent for her. She had one foreleg half raised off of the ground and bit her lower lip.
Pinkie Pie nudged Fluttershy on the flank, earning a little eep. “Aw, come on. It’ll be fun! I’ve waited for this for all my life since last Sunday.”
“Race you there? Last pony’s a rotten egg!” Rainbow Dash said, crouching low to the ground. Applejack grinned up at her, but shook her head.
“Thought this was all about us doin’ something together. ‘Sides, I’d hate to leave you in the dust.”
Dash snorted and stuck out her tongue. “Yeah, right.”
“If you’re going to make sport of this, feel free, but I’m more eager to see what this place has to offer,” said Rarity. She smiled and shook her head, setting off at a slow trot down the hill to finally get the group moving.
Twilight’s eyes hadn’t left the distant spectacle for even a second, but now they turned to Celestia. “How do they do it? Do they employ miniaturization spells?”
Celestia chuckled. “In part, yes, but I can’t quite imagine the spell that lets them unpack their theme pack to fit any area, so it is safe to assume there is plenty of hard work and directed magic as well.”
“I can’t wait to have a closer look!” Twilight said, practically dancing down the road. She’d barely skipped a half-dozen steps before Pinkie Pie joined her, giggling and whooping as they lead the pack down the slope. The entrance arch ever grew, glowing and blinking with a variety and magnitude of lights that put Canterlot’s nightlife to shame. Celestia found that she herself was smiling still. The enthusiasm was infectious. Everypony seemed excited for different reasons; as they drew near, even Fluttershy sped up a little when she discovered the sheer variety of birds who flocked to the promise of a free meal.
And Celestia? Except for Fluttershy’s honest curiosity, no questions had been raised. Nopony had second-guessed her desire to go with them. It seemed there was only a single pony even remotely worried that this might be unprincesslike, and that was Princess Celestia herself; everypony else faced forward.
Rather, everypony except one. During a small lull in the talk as they drew near to the gate, Pinkie Pie turned to give Celestia another one of those curious looks. Yet again the pink pony was quiet, staring at her chest as though she’d posed her a riddle. Only when she saw Celestia looking back at her did Pinkie put on her usual smile.
“C’mon, let’s go check out the rides! And the candy stands! And the everything else!”
“When I said that I thought I had tasted it all, I may have been wrong. At least, I haven’t had anything like this recently,” Celestia said, giving the pink mass a skeptical look and another delicate munch. Once past the gate and amidst the trees and banner-cordoned makeshift walkways, Pinkie Pie had beelined for a stall that sold cones full of something sticky and sickly sweet. Conspicuously sweet, in fact. “This is nothing but spun sugar, is it?”
“Nopers! Or yeppers!” Pinkie said, grinning up at Celestia before devouring the last of her own. The earth mare smacked her lips and cast a hungry look at the cone Spike carried. “The one that means ‘yes, it totally is just spun sugar.’ Isn’t it great? You gonna finish that?”
“Hardly the most healthy of things,” Rarity added, giving her own treat a pout and another nip regardless.
“I don’t recall it being pink last time I had one,” Celestia mused, shaking her head. The group’s journey down the main path of the amusement park was a slow one, everypony pausing to look at all that surrounded them: Here a carousel for the smaller foals, there the long and growing line to the rollercoaster, and everywhere around them stalls of all shapes and sizes with throngs of ponies buying food and testing their skill and luck. There was even the occasional griffin.
“So, what d’you guys wanna do first?” Applejack asked when they came to a halt in a large and open area. “Reckon we should pick up some real food now or later?”
Pinkie made a noise close to a growl. “Hey, sugar is food! Meanie.”
Dash didn’t even look at Applejack or any of the others as she replied. Her eyes were glued to the wooden tracks that rose high above the treetops nearby, wings slowly spreading of their own accord. “That’s a stupid question. The place has a roller coaster. We’re doing the roller coaster, because not riding the roller coaster is stupid.”
“That’s an idea. A very nice idea, I’m sure,” Fluttershy said, neatly placing Rainbow Dash between herself and said roller coaster as she looked for support. “Um, but, you know, they also have some very lovely and slow-moving carousels over there.”
The only one who looked to Celestia was Twilight, yet still the princess felt she should say something. Princesses and roller coasters didn’t traditionally mix, but it wouldn’t do to be a wet blanket and ruin everypony else’s fun, either. “I think I will remain here, at least for the moment.”
Twilight nodded and smiled. “I suppose everypony wants to try different things anyway. Maybe we can meet back here for something to eat a little later? I saw some magic booths I’d like to give a closer look.”
“That’s cool.” Dash shrugged, grinning down at the baby dragon who immediately ran up to her side. “I’ll head on over to the rollercoaster with Fluttershy and Spike, see you guys in a bit!”
Fluttershy’s eyes were wide, and the yellow mare took a single step back. “I—I’d rather not.”
Dash sighed. “Applejack?”
“The more the merrier, right?” Spike added.
The farmpony tipped her hat back on her head and sought the rollercoaster’s highest point just as a train of cars set out from the top. She let out a low whistle and shook her head. “I think it’s just you two for that one. Maybe later?”
An increasingly dejected Dash turned back to Fluttershy, the barest hint of a pout on her lips. “Come on Fluttershy. Trade you? We’ll ride your stupid carousel afterwards, promise.”
Fluttershy took a deep breath and let it out again, giving Dash a single nod before following in her wake. Dash cheered and took off, flying in little circles before landing again, while Fluttershy’s tail drooped. After she bent down to let Spike hop onto her back, the pegasus’ wings were welded to her sides. Celestia tilted her head, unable to hold back a small smile. She must have missed a million such moments, even if her student sent her regular letters on the goings-on in Ponyville.
“She’s facing her fears, I see,” Celestia said, glancing over at Twilight who now stood at her side.
“Fluttershy? Oh, she really is, but I think mostly, she doesn’t want to disappoint Rainbow Dash.” Twilight grinned when the two pegasi disappeared from view. “And I think she owes her from the recent bunny census anyway. I hear Rainbow was really helpful.”
“So! Wanna go try to win a teddy bear?”
Pinkie was the one to have spoken, and Celestia really wondered when she’d stop being surprised that she was the one being addressed; the pink mare stared right at her. Applejack and Rarity stood a ways off, purchasing a map from a unicorn dressed up as a chimera.
“Pardon?”
“You said you wanted to stay here, and there’s no haunted house or bumper carts or anything, so that must mean you want to try some of the games stalls, right?” Pinkie seemed singularly pleased with this fact, spinning around on her hindhooves. “I see ball games, ring games and lots more!”
Celestia cleared her throat. It took her a few seconds to find words, mostly because she expected Twilight to protest on her behalf. Instead, the unicorn simply smiled up at her, expectant like the rest. Applejack peered over the top of the map she perused, and nopony else spoke.
“I don’t think it would be very proper. Not, ah, for a princess.” She knew they were flimsy words, even before she had uttered them.
“Aw, that’s silly! Who’s going to mind?” Pinkie asked. “I don’t think some big old park will care if you throw a ball. Nopony in all of Equestria will!”
Applejack reached up to scratch at her own snout. “Thought that was the point with the whole disguise thing anyway.”
“It’s not a disguise, it’s a form change,” Twilight added, though her tone didn’t sound much like disagreement.
“Yes. I suppose it was, at that,” Celestia mused, suppressing a chuckle. “You are quite right.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, we all stand at your leisure—” Rarity began.
“No.” Celestia shook her head, immediately putting on the warmest smile she could muster. “That’s not right at all. In my throne room, perhaps, but not here.”
“Very well.” Rarity dipped her head in acknowledgement. “All I mean is that we’re all here to enjoy ourselves. I don’t think I’m presumptuous if I say that should you rather just go sit down somewhere, we’re all happy to do just that.”
Hesitation was not something Celestia was accustomed to, but this was no battle upon which the fate of Equestria rested, nor was it a political decision that would wait for days on end, the effects of which would echo throughout history for centuries to come. It was an everyday decision, a simple question. She’d been asked if she liked sugar in her tea, and she did not know.
As always when she struggled, her thoughts went to her sister. She wasn’t so dense as to fail to realize why Luna had questioned her motives weeks ago; her sister wanted her to enjoy herself for her own sake. To go out and do something for herself, as if a thousand years of servitude to the nation had left her incapable of this. Perhaps it had. Perhaps it hadn’t. Still, she found a smile and an answer somewhere.
“I think that I might try some of these games then,” she said. “It can’t hurt. If you would like to join me, I would be glad of it, but I’m certain there is much to do here for us all. I don’t think it makes for grand spectator sport.” No long gambits. No master plan. A simple answer for a simple evening.
Applejack folded her map and tucked it in under her hat. “If you think you’ll be alright here, I was hankering to give the haunted house a go. Anypony care to go with me?”
Rarity chewed her lip and glanced between Applejack and the others. When Twilight gave a polite shake of her head and Pinkie Pie said nothing, the unicorn spoke up.
“Well. I would hate for you to have to go alone. That is, if you think I’ll be good company. I’m hardly in the mood to be scared, to be honest.”
Applejack grinned and gave Rarity a gentle nudge on the shoulder to set them walking. “It’ll be fun, and don’t you worry. I’ll protect you from whatever nasties they got in store.”
“I’m sure,” Rarity replied, rolling her eyes but smiling despite. “Well, au revoir!”
Thus reduced to three, Celestia became keenly aware of how quiet Pinkie Pie had been, and along with it, and odd sense of triumph in the fact that she hadn’t left along with the others. “Well. I suppose we should try some of these games?” she chanced, flashing a smile. “I think perhaps we’ll skip the magic stalls for the moment in the name of fairness.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Twilight said, giggling as she cast a glance towards a gaudy purple stand whose main features were a large crystal and a plaque with the words “Test your strength - how much of a unicorn are you?”
“Ball games!” Pinkie said, the words a declaration more than a suggestion. Celestia and Twilight both followed as Pinkie bounded and twirled over to the closest unoccupied games stall. Behind a rather bare-bones wooden counter, a bright green unicorn stood at attention, giving them a wave and a grin when they drew near. The stallion gestured to sets of white-painted balls on the counter, and then to bottles, boxes and other objects balanced on pedestals near the back wall of his booth.
“Step right up, ladies! Three bits for three balls and a chance to take home one of these lovely prizes,” he said, beaming brightly. Indeed, hanging from the ceiling were numerous soft plush toys. Celestia barely spared them a glance, remembering something quite a bit more important.
“I did not think to bring any bits,” she said, frowning.
“Aw, s’okay, I got you covered. This trip is my treat, right?” Pinkie said. The pink mare twisted around and dipped her snout into her bushy tail, fishing out the very same sack of bits she’d used to pay for their entrance. Simple as that, she flipped three shiny bits onto the counter, and the unicorn manning the stall happily swept them away.
“Now there’s a gentlemare. Good on you, miss,” the stallion said with a wink and a grin shot Celestia’s way. The princess arched a brow.
“You are very kind, but I insist I repay you from the royal treasury later.”
Pinkie merely shrugged and smiled, but the rather talkative stallion pounded the counter with a hoof. “Ha! That’s what my wife calls her purse, too! ‘The Royal Treasury.’”
“Ah. Yes. A metaphor, certainly,” Celestia agreed. Pinkie Pie giggled and bit onto one of the balls, tossing it Celestia’s way. “Give it a shot!”
Celestia gripped the ball in her magic and peered past the stall-owner to what she presumed were her targets. It wasn’t too hard a concept to grasp. It reminded her of the Prairie-folk’s games, albeit far simpler. With a small shrug and a smaller burst of magic, she launched the ball in a lazy arc towards a stack of three empty bottles—only to have it impact with a dull thud and bounce off.
“Better luck next time, two balls to go!” the green unicorn said. “Would any of you other two lovely ladies like to give it a go as well?”
Celestia bit her lower lip and stared at the resilient bottles. The manager of the game offered no explanation, and that was just as well. Something was amiss, and already she was piecing it together. Far more interesting to engage her student and Pinkie Pie, though. Celestia turned to Twilight and smiled.
“Any theories?” Celestia asked. It took only a second before Twilight leapt into action, squinting and glaring at the bottles, then the prizes each in turn, all before she lit up in a smile.
“Oh. That makes sense, actually. Consider the prizes and the cost of the balls. Three bits? That’s not much at all. The prizes come in two sizes—let’s call them large and small. I assume that they’re for taking down three and two targets, respectively?”
Twilight stared straight at the suddenly discomfited stallion who nodded at that. “Yes, that’s correct. Uh. Right. These lovely companions can be yours if only—”
“Very well,” Celestia agreed. “And considering the relatively short distance, this isn’t very hard. They’d run at a loss even if only one in three managed two targets.”
“Exactly!” Twilight said.
“It’s not uncommon business practice to have individual businesses have favorable rates for the customer if the overall establishment is profitable, though,” Celestia said. “I understand you’ve read a few volumes on business economics.”
“Oh. Right,” Twilight said, her ears flat against her head. “Then—wait. Considering the entrance fee, the free rides and the cost of moving this park, hm. Do you have paper?”
Celestia chuckled. “No, you are correct. I’m simply completing the model, but you have the right of it. These stalls will be running at a profit. Well done.”
While Twilight brightened and straightened up, practically glowing at the praise, the unicorn stallion cleared his throat. “Excuse me? You’re holding up the line. Could you please be done with it?”
Pinkie Pie, Twilight and Celestia all cast a quick glance behind to confirm that there was exactly zero ponies in line behind them.
“Anyway. The question then is how they manipulate the odds,” Twilight said.
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Silly, all the games cheat here. That’s just how they work!”
“A little louder, could you?” the stallion groaned. “Please, just leave!”
“This is standard practice?” Twilight asked, eyes flitting between Celestia and Pinkie Pie.
Celestia rolled her jaw. “It’s not illegal. Not under the law as it’s written now, and I should know. I wrote it.”
Pinkie nodded so quickly her head was a blur. “Yuh-huh! They use magnets or glue or something, so you have to be really strong and accurate to win. It’s still tons of fun unless you’re a total grump.”
The princess frowned, giving the targets a severe look. “Well, obviously force would solve the issue, but I’ve no desire to accidentally blow the back wall of the stall down, or make a crater.”
The game owner’s eyes widened slowly, his head sinking down to hide behind the counter. Pinkie Pie, for her part, leaned over the counter and sniffed.
“It’s not glue! I don’t think it is. Not any glue I know anyway. But I do smell some yummy popcorn down the road.”
Twilight tilted her head. “Do you think demagnetizing spells are against the rules?”
Celestia laughed. “I should think so. If not, it’s certainly against the spirit of the game. Still, there are limits to how strong small, concealed magnets can be.” Hovering up her remaining balls, Celestia focused the barest hint of her magic to shoot them towards two of the many arrayed targets. With a muffled clatter, two stacks of plastic boxes toppled over.
“Yay! We win!” Pinkie cheered, hopping up to stand on top of the stall’s counter and peering past it. “Can we have a prize now? Do we get a prize?”
“I’d still like to know we played by the rules,” Twilight hummed. “This place really should have some sort of rule book.”
“I don’t think it’s right for me to collect winnings from a game like this,” Celestia said, shaking her head, but as soon as she’d spoken, Pinkie stretched up and tied loose an orange cuddly toy of some description.
“I’m sure he won’t mind us taking this little fox thingy home. Right Mr. Ball Game Guy?”
“Take anything you want and go away!”
Tossing colorful items at other, even more colorful items certainly had its charm, at least in good company. When they also treated each of the stalls as a challenge to be solved, however, time seemed to positively disappear.
It was easy to appreciate the smile on Twilight’s face when Celestia guided her to discover how a particular stall operated, and Pinkie’s insight was always helpful—and oft-times uncanny. The pink mare trotted after them from stall to stall, always nibbling on some snack or other or loudly slurping her way to the bottom of another soft drink.
Presently, she’d guided them to a ‘game’ that didn’t seem much of a game at all. The long stall was lined with a dozen little stations where ponies could pay bits for small water guns that let them squirt targets that danced along behind the counter. Most of the water guns were wielded by younger ponies or foals with their parents, and there was neither much to discuss nor prizes to be had. Twilight stifled a yawn with the nook of a foreleg, and Pinkie Pie sipped away at some drink or other, the plush fox toy resting on top of her head.
Celestia shot Pinkie another covert look. While they were hardly close, she knew Pinkie Pie well enough to know that the perky mare wasn’t always an explosion of action and talk even if most tended to define her by her loudest moments. She’d seen Pinkie Pie act in a manner others would probably call an imitation of normalcy, and Twilight had sent her letters detailing theories that Pinkie even slept sometimes—though her student had been careful to label these ‘hypotheses’.
Now, she was neither of those things. The earth pony was neither obnoxiously loud, nor merely sedate. Rather, she looked bothered—no, Celestia corrected herself, she looked contemplative. It wasn’t so much unsettling as it felt wrong. It was only natural that the princess would want things to be in order, surely? She spent all day making sure Equestria was healthy as a nation. It wasn’t all that odd that she wanted Pinkie to perk up and smile. The problem was, she could hardly make such a decree.
Of course, she could manipulate the odds in a far more direct manner. Celestia wasn’t quite sure it was an entirely conscious action, but still she directed her magic just so. Ever so slowly, the bright pink squirt gun turned away from the merry plastic targets and their little dance. Instead, Celestia brought the thin, luke-warm jet of water to bear on Pinkie Pie.
Celestia wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected. Pinkie Pie stared down at where the water streamed against her belly where she sat, trickling down to pool next to the soft drink she cradled with her hindlegs. The earth mare looked almost as nonplussed as Celestia felt, and the princess could see out of the corner of her eye that Twilight’s head tilted at an angle.
“You’re squirting me with water,” Pinkie said.
“It appears that I am,” Celestia agreed. She held the little squirt gun quite steady, and for a moment the only noise was the steady low hum of the tiny electric generator that pumped water to the plastic toy.
“You’re squirting me with water,” Pinkie repeated, a grin slowly spreading across her face. A second later, a giggle bubbled up, followed by a snort and another giggle. Celestia couldn’t hold back a grin of her own.
Twilight made a small noise, a strangled snort. “I don’t think you get points for shooting—”
Celestia turned the gun on her, aiming straight for her student’s face. Twilight yelped and skidded backwards, holding up a warding hoof in protest for all of two seconds before she found the presence of mind to erect a simple magical shield.
“And I think that’s against the rules,” Celestia countered, only now aware that Pinkie’s giggling had stopped. Twice as ominous was the clink of a bit slipping into a coin slot. A second later, Pinkie’s laughter redoubled and Celestia felt a thin trickle of water against her flank.
Celestia’s horn took on a soft glow as she called upon her magic to clear the moisture off her mane, depositing a neat globe of water over the back of the bench while Twilight hopped on to grab a seat on the other side. It seemed as good a place to rest as any; a solitary park bench resting by a path’s end, a pocket of relative silence in the otherwise noisy park. Twilight let out a giggle as she enacted a simple heat spell to dry herself, and Pinkie elected to negate both their efforts by shaking her entire body violently.
“That was great!” Pinkie declared, but her grin disappeared a second later. “Oh. Oops. Be right back! Where’s the little fillies’ room? Soda pop emergency!”
Celestia smiled and shook her head and closed her eyes, leaning back and rolling her neck while the Pinkie Pie raced down the path.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been asked to leave any shop or even a stand before,” Twilight said, her mirth slowly petering out, giving way to a relaxed smile. “Why didn’t you just drop your body change spell?”
Celestia raised a brow. “Why would I do that? They were right. We were being rather disruptive.”
“I suppose. Power and responsibility,” Twilight said. She licked her lips, mouth half-open for a second as if she meant to go on, but in the end she simply looked away, her eyes skimming the treetops. As they watched, a train of cars came into view riding one of the many hills of the roller coaster that criss-crossed the park, and Celestia could have sworn she saw a set of blue wings frantically flapping in the front car, a cry of “faster” on the wind.
“Would you rather I didn’t visit as often?”
Celestia waited and watched Twilight’s reaction. Her student frowned, as if she didn’t understand the question, then gaped, sputtered, covered her mouth, and finally settled for staring at her own hooves. Having never mastered the fine art of scooting closer, Celestia rose to stand and took two simple steps towards her, sitting down at her prized pupil’s side.
“Let me rephrase, then. Do you find it strange to see me interacting with your friends? I wonder if it’s a little sudden, and if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I have no qualms dropping challenges in your lap when the fate of Equestria hangs in the balance, but this is not, ah.” Celestia frowned. “It’s not strictly necessary, I suppose. I wonder if I’m worse at social grace than I thought I was.”
Twilight took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stuck out one of her forelegs. Celestia hid a small smile at the little exercise she’d once taught Cadance, but it seemed to work. Twilight looked up at her and shook her head, resolute.
“I think they’re your friends, too. You don’t have to ask. Everypony’s having a lot of fun.”
Celestia nodded slowly at the rather enticing thought. “Perhaps. Maybe I didn’t have to, but I believe I regret I didn’t ask, regardless.” It was as close as she could get to an honest apology with Twilight, she knew. Even as it was, Twilight fumbled with her tongue for a moment before she found an answer.
“I—well. Right. Okay. Maybe I was a tiny bit jealous at first,” Twilight said, her cheeks lighting up with a faint blush. “I remember all the things we used to do, well. When I grew up—”
“You’ve seen a different side of me, and me sharing it isn’t easy for you,” Celestia said, sighing. “Of course. I should have seen that. Please do not doubt that you are special to me, Twilight.”
“No! I mean, okay. Maybe. Maybe at first, a tiny bit, like I said. At first I thought it was some kind of test, but I guess it wasn’t about me at all.” Twilight turned away for a moment to rub at her face, but when she turned back, she wore the tentative beginnings of a smile. “I think I got a handle on that. Everypony’s happy now. And wet, apparently.”
“Yes. I’m not quite sure whether that was a lapse in judgment or not,” Celestia admitted.
“Still. That’s okay. Now, I just worry about—I mean, everything’s okay now,” Twilight said, her words trailing off into nothingness. The unicorn leaned against her and said no more, but Celestia noticed the glance she sent down the path.
Celestia said nothing, leaning her unfamiliar body back against Twilight. Neither of them offered further comment, but Celestia never did think herself particularly slow on the uptake. If Pinkie Pie was indeed behaving differently—if only slightly—it was a worrying thought that she was somehow the cause. Had she been unnecessarily harsh in how she communicated her confusion with Twilight? Had Twilight shared the letter with Pinkie Pie? Had they misinterpreted it?
The princess frowned. How would one misinterpret it? How would one interpret it right? Suddenly she herself wasn’t quite certain.
“There you are!” Pinkie called when she bounced into view, approaching from the exact opposite angle she’d left. “It took forever to find the bathrooms, and at least twice as many forevers to find you guys again!”
Celestia and Twilight both waved at Pinkie and exchanged smiles. For a moment it looked like Pinkie meant to join them on the bench despite the fact that there was precious little space for three ponies. Celestia tilted her head and arched a brow while Pinkie raised a foreleg, awkwardly stuck between a hug and a step up. Her legs tensed and un-tensed, her eyes slipping to the ground for a moment. In the end, she simply backed up and offered a more muted smile.
“Hey, wanna go find the others and go get something to eat? I’m starving.”
Celestia gave an incredulous chuckle, stretching and rising to stand. “As far as I’ve seen, you’ve been eating non stop since we arrived.”
“You bet! You know me,” Pinkie said, turning on the spot and setting them off down the path though her voice didn’t hold half the energy of her gait. “Silly, silly Pinkie Pie.”
When the sun set, more artificial lights flooded to fill the void. Day gave way to night, and rather than quiet down, the park seemed to get even noisier. The amusement park cared nothing for the cycle of day and night. Today, Celestia dictated and decreed nothing. She simply happened to be along for the ride.
The ride, in this case, was a huge ferris wheel. As if it were an apology for the park’s defiance, the steel construct was littered with lights and decorations painted yellow and orange. A strange and cacophonous tribute in the form of a replacement sun, some might say. Celestia decided against sharing this particular little thought with Twilight and their friends, but it brought a grin to her face nevertheless. Again, a pair of ponies were let out of one of the ferris wheel’s cars, and again the queue moved. Celestia stepped onto the small platform, the last of the group to join the staging area where a bearded pony removed the cordon to admit the first of them.
“My tummy hurts,” Spike groaned, waddling inside the car. The little dragon only barely managed to climb atop his seat with a little help from a bemused Twilight.
“That’s what happens when you eat two double portions of ice cream after a big meal,” she said, sighing and taking a seat, waving at the six remaining ponies.
“I thought it was your job to keep me from doing that,” Spike muttered, triggering a giggle from Twilight and the others. The safety bars closed off the car, and the unicorn stallion managing the ride pushed a button. The great wheel slowly rotated to lift their car up, halting a moment later to let the next set of passengers off.
Chuckles, giggles, grins and laughter. All these things had defined the day through rides, stalls and chatter, all the way through their dinner at the amusement park’s restaurant. Celestia’s cheeks hurt from smiling in a way they never did after a day of palace duties. She would have said she felt content, but the word felt insufficient. She felt good.
“Aboard you go,” the stallion announced, holding up the cordon to admit Applejack and Rarity into the next car. Applejack stood aside and let Rarity take her seat first, and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash moved up to the line. Rainbow Dash leaned against the railing, resting her head on her hooves.
“Hey, so you guys checked out the haunted house earlier, right?” Dash asked. “Any fun?”
Applejack pulled her hat down in front of her eyes and shrunk into her seat. “The less said about that the better.”
“Quite,” Rarity agreed, inspecting one of her forehooves. “I’ve never seen such terribly mismatched décor.”
“And monsters?” Fluttershy suggested.
“Oh, yes, I suppose there was that, too.” Rarity shrugged. “Monsters of all kinds, sure.”
Rainbow Dash snickered, reaching across to poke Applejack on the shoulder. “What’s the matter, AJ? Bet you got scared.”
Pinkie Pie giggled, squeezing in between Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash to lean over the cordon. “That’s silly, and you’re silly. You fight big bad icky monsters all the time!”
Applejack snorted, glowering at Rainbow, then Pinkie. “Yeah, well, difference is, you kick a timber wolf, it runs off. You kick some mare in a monster costume ‘cause she startles you, she tells you to get the hay out.”
Rainbow Dash’s peals of laughter went on and on until the operator pushed her and Pinkie away from the line and set the wheel moving again. Celestia covered a smile of her own, noticing that the harried unicorn didn’t let the ride rest before he’d brought down the next car, nor did he seem pleased until he had sent Dash and Fluttershy off as well. Soon, an empty steel car with a padded bench waited for the last two members of the group. Pinkie hopped inside and planted her tush down with a minimum of ceremony, and Celestia followed, nodding her thanks to the operator. Celestia closed her eyes and breathed deep. All around, there was quiet and content chatter.
“So, when does this thing start moving faster?” asked Rainbow Dash from the car ahead and above, followed by a groan twice as loud after a murmured few words from Fluttershy.
All around, mostly content chatter. A perfect conclusion to a day that she’d never want to be without. It no longer felt presumptuous that these companions she guided and relied upon could also be called friends. She could feel the wheel continuing its slow turn, and she imagined that if she opened her eyes, the park below would be an ocean of multicolored lights, a pool of chaotic, glittering madness in an otherwise dark countryside. Over the hills to the west, a soft glow would betray Ponyville’s proximity, and in the far distance, Mount Canterlot would shine like a beacon.
And when she opened her eyes, Pinkie Pie would look away and pretend she hadn’t stared at Celestia whenever the princess looked away. Celestia had never thought herself particularly stupid, nor was she ignorant. She should have pinned Pinkie Pie about it sooner, she just needed some time to decide how to approach it. What would she say? Pinkie had committed no crime.
Nevertheless, something was amiss, and Celestia needed to ask what. That was precisely why she had asked Pinkie to share a car with her. Exactly because of the fact that Pinkie Pie looked conflicted before she accepted with a chipper “sure!” where before, Celestia would have expected Pinkie to be the one to suggest it.
Celestia let out a sigh and opened her eyes, barely catching Pinkie Pie’s gaze shifting in the corner of her eye. When she looked, Pinkie Pie stared ahead with a tranquil smile. They were at the top of the wheel now, and Equestria lay splayed out below them just as Celestia had expected. What she hadn’t expected was that the winds up here would set Pinkie Pie’s mane rustling, or how different the earth mare looked with her face in shadow. It was equal parts wrong and fascinating to see her so quiet.
“Have I offended you?” Celestia asked. Subtlety and whispers were best reserved for diplomacy, anyway.
Pinkie Pie giggled and shook her head, leaning forward to place her forelegs on the railing and rest her head atop. “Nopey! Why would you ask that, silly?”
Celestia frowned. The mirth was genuine enough, and for a moment, she wondered if she had it all wrong. If her only concern was that in a day for laughter, very little of that laughter had been for her alone. It seemed oddly possessive, and the realization was a frustrating one because it made little sense.
Then again, Pinkie Pie still looked straight ahead, and gut feeling, instinct—whatever one chose to call it, in Princess Celestia, millenia had honed those things to perfection. Second guessing herself was never a good idea. She had to believe.
“Did the letter offend you? I presume Twilight relayed that you’ve, ah, confused me.”
“Nuh-uh. No offense-taken-ness,” Pinkie said, rubbing her snout against the nook of a leg.
“I see.” Celestia rolled her neck and gave a small sigh. “I think what I mean to say is, usually, you spend half these outings behaving in a manner that, well. Poking, prodding, and generally talking my head off, I suppose. If you’ve taken my actions or words to mean that I’ve been annoyed, then you may have misunderstood me.”
Celestia raised a brow at her own words. At some point, she’d lost control of her own mouth, but if Pinkie noticed, she gave no indication. Still Pinkie did not meet her eyes. Instead, she simply shook her head.
“I guess you’d have told me if I was really being a bother, so nope, didn’t think so. Or, I didn’t think I thought you wanted me to go away.” A muted giggle. “Wow, that’s confusing and silly.”
“Yet you act reserved with regards to me.” Celestia felt a smile threaten. “Relatively speaking, at any rate. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I’ve caught Twilight acting odd around you as well, though I’m willing to chalk that up to my lack of experience with watching her around you.”
That caught Pinkie’s attention. It began as a glance so quick, Celestia nearly missed it, but finally Pinkie turned around to look at her. Her lips quivered ominously for a moment before she steeled herself, but the pain in her eyes was evident. Celestia flinched at the mere idea that she might somehow be the cause.
“I... I made a promise,” Pinkie said, each word slow and measured. “I promised somepony very important to me that I’d do something, but I think it’s the kind of thing that’s sort of a secret, and I really really don’t want to let her down.”
“Secrets,” Celestia echoed, leaning back. “Nations have been toppled by secrets. I would have you tell me how I can help. I like seeing you—well, seeing all my subjects happy.”
Pinkie tilted her head sideways and bit her lip before shaking her head and giggling. “I don’t think this is really a help-y thing. Helpable? S’okay anyway.”
An uncomfortable silence settled. Pinkie’s gaze slipped, and all Celestia could think was that she wanted to hold on to it. What to say next? What did Celestia, in fact, truly want? To demand Pinkie Pie do something silly? She was no court jester, and if Celestia desired something amusing and random, she had other sources for just that. There was something missing, and the frustration of not knowing grew and grew, but Celestia resolved not to let it taint her voice. She took a deep breath to center herself.
“Maybe I could offer a hug? Very few things are not improved by a hug, I am certain.” Celestia put forth her most convincing smile, one that had placated dragons and secured borders on numerous occasions.
Pinkie opened her mouth and closed it again, case unresolved. She raised a leg and reached out for Celestia, but before she’d even come close, she jammed her forelegs under her own tail and sat on them. Those big blue orbs slipped to rest on her own hooves, and she briskly shook her head.
Celestia blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Pinkie shook her head again, twice as animated this time. “I’m pretty sure this is something that’s not hug-improvable. It’s like sugar! Sugar goes with everything, or at least that’s what I thought, but if you pour it inside your gramophone, the silly thing stops working, right? I’m sure you’ve done that tons of times too.”
“Not quite, but very well,” Celestia said, stretching and rolling her shoulders. Finally, their car was coming down to the ground level again. “I believe you are quite a bit more confusing than any gramophone I’ve ever seen.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Silly. I’m not a gramophone at all.”
“No, you most certainly are not a gramophone,” Celestia agreed with a chuckle. “Nor are you a train, a punch bowl or a chimney.”
“I bet I could be a train if I really tried,” Pinkie said, hopping out of the car and setting the pair moving towards their friends who waited nearby. “I love coal!”
“I’m sure,” Celestia laughed, but it was a short-lived thing. She could list any number of things Pinkie Pie wasn’t, most of them with conviction, but it dawned on her that she’d struggle to say exactly what Pinkie was to her.
Celestia frowned, squinted and poured an infinitesimally larger portion of her magic into her efforts, immediately rewarded with a loud crack as the lid of the chest yielded. The benefit of smithing the lock to a chest herself was that nopony was likely to ever crack it by craft or by spell. The downside was that when you lost both the key and the secrets to the lock, that included yourself.
Celestia put the ruined lid down, offering a moment’s silence to the carpenter who’d made the chest. The pony-sized thing stood out among the other contents of the room; in amidst countless anonymous crates and bolts of cloth rested this one container of ornate, carved wood. She intensified the light from her horn a smidgen, and with a minor effort, cleared some space around her.
Heavy wooden crates shifted at her command, steel barrels floated obediently to form stacks, and within minutes the storeroom was as neatly organized as it had ever been. A square room with walls of polished stone, the only feature of which was a spiral staircase set in the far wall. She was just getting the very last of the clutter sorted when a familiar shape appeared in the room’s single entrance. Princess Luna nodded her greetings and stepped into the room proper, making a big show out of looking every which way and taking it in.
“I did not know the castle had a storage cellar, but here we are, at the heart of the mountain. Do you fear siege?”
Celestia chuckled, depositing the sole remaining chest in the middle of the room. “Hardly. The architects who designed the majority of the palace decided that there needed to be a vault of sorts, a place for their princess to store her dark secrets.”
Luna grinned and stepped closer, standing side by side with her sister. “All your terrible secrets, is it?”
“Yes.” Celestia smiled and shook her head slowly. “It’s a wonderful place to store all the gifts that would be rude to throw away. I could clothe a small city with all the dresses and hats in this room, and somewhere here is a case of gilded pineapples.”
Still Luna did not peer into the open chest, but Celestia could tell she wanted to. Where Celestia was happy to dance around a subject for days on end, Luna was not thus inclined. The Princess of the Night was a far more direct a creature.
“And what is it you are doing here? I visited your chambers to ask if you wanted to share tea with me.”
“I suppose somepony once told me physical labor helps one think, and I decided to try just that.” Celestia grinned. “I could count on my hooves for how many seconds I could try cleaning my chambers or some such before the maids take it to mean I am dissatisfied with their work.”
Luna did not share her smile. The smaller princess rolled her jaw and nodded absent-mindedly before she pinned her sister with a look that Celestia quite frankly could not decipher.
“Thinking, is it?”
Celestia raised a brow and leaned against Luna, forcing her sister to brace against her. “Do I disappoint you, little sister? Should I seek the highest point of the palace and stare into the sun while I brood?”
At that, Luna’s expression softened. She smiled, shook her head, and gave a short burst of laughter. “Hardly. It is good to see you like this. They are a good influence, the Elements.”
“We learn as long as we live, and we live as long as we learn,” Celestia replied, resting her head atop Luna’s for a moment before finally stepping up to the chest. Leaning past, she let her eyes roam its contents. “It is good you came.”
As gently as she could, Celestia surrounded two particular objects with her magic, slowly levitating them up and over the rim of the chest. The glass orbs were swathed in silken cloth, but if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by, Luna still recognized them before Celestia even unwrapped them.
“I... thought I broke those. You kept them.”
Celestia hovered one of the two globes over to Luna, and her sister held it in her own magic without a word. Both of the globes were perfect spheres containing a small scale model of Equestria and its surrounding territories as they had been thousands of years ago. The orb Celestia held had a small mote of magic casting a bright yellow light over the land, the luminescence magically contained within the confines of the glass. Luna’s had a pale white moon that bathed the miniature landscape in a softer light.
“They were repaired the very same day of your banishment,” Celestia said, smiling at the vague memories that faded even now that they had been spoken. It felt liberating. “It was the first thing I could think to do to find a glassblower, but in the end I mended them myself.”
Luna took a deep breath and let it out again. A moment later, she crossed necks with Celestia, one of her forelegs squeezing her tight. “Why did you not tell me of this before?”
Celestia pursed her lips. “I suppose it did not feel right. The memories hurt a little, and after your return, this did not fit into the... routine. I no longer see the harm.” Luna’s head moved in a faint nod against her neck.
“What other secrets does your chest of wonders hold, then?” Luna asked.
“Other memorabilia from the next hundred years or so. I thought I would simply sort through them and see if there is something of use. Are you going to rest after dinner?”
Luna relented the hug and gave her glass globe one final glance before shaking her head. “What I am doing is asking what made my sister retreat to the deepest recesses of the palace, and I am still not certain I have my answer. You seemed content enough when you returned from your last outing, and again when you came home earlier in the weekend. Why all this thinking?”
Celestia bit the inside of her cheek. “Because as much as I have enjoyed the past weeks, questions arise—” She paused and rolled her eyes at the half-lidded look Luna gave her, smiling despite. “Very well. The less long winded version is that I’m concerned certain subjects occupy my mind far too much.”
Luna shrugged. “All ponies are equal, but that does not mean you should worry if your position, your job or your other activities grace some with more of your time than others. Somehow, I am getting the distinct feeling you are not talking about your faithful student.”
“I have made peace with needing to tutor and favor some, and also with the fact that I cannot personally meet and greet every citizen in our nation. I speak not of time—”
“But of thought,” Luna finished for her. “You speak of the Element of Laughter. What of her? If she is being a nuisance, you are hardly the type of pony to hold your tongue.”
Celestia barely bit back a giggle. “No, goodness no. No, not at all.” She meant to speak on, but she did not know the words. If she knew the full of it, there’d be no mystery. Celestia let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and sat. Luna immediately moved to her side, head tilted.
“Are you well, sister? I have seen you upset, I have seen you saddened, and I have had the misfortune of seeing you angered, but never so...”
“Confused. The word is confused, because I struggle to decide what she truly is,” Celestia said. “And you are right. I have never had compunctuations about speaking up, but many of the things she does make me uncomfortable. She asks questions I cannot simply answer, and she will not take a polite gesture for a dismissal. She continually tests my limits.”
Luna’s body shook with quiet laughter. “I believe you once described me in a similar manner, though with not half the fondness.”
A smile tugged on Celestia’s lips, and she shook her head. “I did, at that. You have been the only one to ever treat me as an equal.”
For a good few moments, the silence of the room was absolute. Celestia stared at a particularly anonymous section of masonry in the wall, and Luna, for once, had no follow-up. When Celestia chanced a look, she saw her sister looking up at her with the beginnings of a smile of her own.
“In truth, I believe you have your answer,” Luna said, rising to stand and making for the stairs without so much as a backwards look.
Luna let the magic grip fade, pausing at the threshold to the room. Her first impulse was that this might be a case for the Royal Guard. Upon her return, she’d questioned her sister’s wisdom in creating a guard corps when each of the princesses wielded magic that could reshape the landscape of stars. Few things—no, nothing gave Luna cause for fear.
On the other hoof, she wasn’t quite sure how to react when one of her bedroom wardrobes started singing. Incineration seemed a little disproportionate, and curiosity was certainly a factor.
“Is this some sort of elaborate prank?” she asked, striding into her bedchambers with as much confidence as she could muster. It was hard to be intimidating in a nightcap, and neither her teacup nor the treasured snowglobe she carried made for the most menacing of instruments.
No reply. Luna squinted and closed the door behind her. The melodious humming continued unabated, and every now and then her bedside wardrobe would shift, giving off the faintest of creaks. It could be some sort of spell flux, a magical anomaly. Such things were easily fixed. It could also be a foe in disguise. Luna couldn’t hold back a grin at the thought. Perhaps Discord had broken loose? Perhaps Chrysalis was weaving fel magic, preparing for another assault on Canterlot?
An assault on Canterlot led from her wardrobe. Luna sighed and put the teacup and the globe down on her nightstand, approaching the mysterious musical furniture. It was unlikely, but a princess could dream. It seemed every time glorious battle was joined, Luna was indisposed.
Celestia sending her on a trip to Neighpon the day before Discord struck, that could have happened to anypony. It was hardly her sister’s fault that every single chariot mysteriously disintegrated when she planned to disregard Celestia’s advice and travel to the Crystal Kingdom, either. When she found herself locked in her bathroom during Chrysalis’ attack on Canterlot, though, she had to admit she wondered if it was some pastel-maned conspiracy.
Her thirst for battle somewhat slaked, Luna tore open the wardrobe with force born out of apathy, coming face to face with a pink pony who seemed entirely too content and cozy amidst the princessly dresses and effects. Pinkie Pie swayed from side to side and sang along for another few seconds before halting with a huge gasp.
“—wait and you can’t run, I’m sure this will be fun—oh wow, Princess Luna! I haven’t seen you in weeks! How’re you?”
“I am well, thank you,” Luna said, hastily levitating Pinkie out of the wardrobe, depositing her on the floor, and closing it behind her all in short order. “And you are in my bedroom. This is incredibly inappropriate.”
“Well yeah, duh,” Pinkie giggled. “I had this great idea for a waiting song, but the only thing that rhymed with ‘faucet’ was ‘closet’, so I didn’t have much choice. I guess this is more of a wardrobe or maybe a cupboard, but singers can’t be choosers!”
“Forgive me if I do not even reward that with an answer,” Luna said, sighing. “I am fairly certain you know how to tell my sister’s bedroom from mine, however. Ignoring that that would also be inappropriate.”
Pinkie nodded, getting up and looking around as if she only just now considered this. “Oh wow, you’re right. I mean, I tried waiting in her room for so long, you wouldn’t believe, but she never came. I decided to switch tactics! I guess your room is the one that’s all dark and moody and broody, huh? Oh!” she exclaimed, turning around and making a grab for the wardrobe door. “And Celestia doesn’t have nearly as many fun things in her wardrobe, like your collection of—”
Luna levitated the wardrobe up and out of reach, neatly pinning it to the ceiling with enough force to crack stone and wood while blessing her dark coat’s ability to hide burning cheeks.
“Celestia, yes! She is my sister and she’s in the cellar, ask a guard to take you, thank you very much for your visit!” Luna snapped, whipping open her bedroom door with another touch of magic. Another barely-gentle push whisked the pink mare out of her chambers, and the slam of her door reverberated through the palace until her tea went cold.
Celestia turned the object around and around, twisting and turning it to view it from every possible angle under horn-light both bright and pale, but for the life of her, she could not discover what exactly the brown lump was meant to be.
“Must be from my pottery period,” she muttered, gently depositing the shapeless blob on the floor by the other knick-knacks. If she squinted, she could pretend it was a terrible attempt at a wingless parasprite, but she knew there were a million problems with that theory, including one count of terrible anachronism.
A set of hoofsteps snapped her out of her reverie. Celestia raised a brow and stared at the staircase, wondering exactly who that could be. A set of guards to inquire about her well-being? Vanilla Cream and Gemburst with some lunch? It wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome if Luna had related to the staff that Celestia was down here, and everypony in the palace knew that when Celestia said “I do not want to be disturbed,” it did not apply to cinnamon swirls or cake.
Or it could be Pinkie Pie arriving in the company of a lone guardspony. For some reason, it struck Celestia as particularly absurd. It would be far less shocking had Pinkie been waiting for her amidst the crates of a cellar Celestia visited once per year at best, but instead, Pinkie trotted alongside a guard-stallion through the room’s single entrance. Proof that Pinkie could still surprise her, this time by doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. The guard saluted and made his retreat, and Pinkie Pie beamed whilst making her approach.
“Hi!” Pinkie said. “I was in the neighbourhood. Or, well, I was in Canterlot because I took the train to Canterlot, and Luna said you were down here, so here I am!”
“Hello,” Celestia said, offering a small nod. “It is good to see you. I am just finishing up here. If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem happier than when last we met. I’m glad.”
And it was so very true. Not until now did Celestia realize how big a part of her had been holding its breath wondering what ailed Pinkie Pie, creating countless theories on what silenced the usually raucous pink mare. Her own smile was as much a sigh of relief as it was a facial expression.
“Uh-huh!” Pinkie said, skipping and bouncing the last few steps before she stood in front of Celestia. “What’re you up to anyway? I’m wondering why you haven’t painted the walls of your round-and-round staircase with candy cane colored stripes, but that’s probably because candy canes can be any color you want, so that’d be really hard I bet.”
“I am certain it would be an improvement regardless,” Celestia said in a tone that suggested agreement, chuckling whilst she gathered the various effects scattered about the room. Pinkie followed each of the levitating objects with her eyes; maps, sculptures, paintings, clothes and more, finally leaning so far over the chest, Celestia half feared she would fall in.
“Oh wow. What’s that?” she asked, pointing.
“This one?” Celestia asked. At her command, a scroll hesitated in its journey back towards the chest. She smiled as she unfurled the fragile material. “It is an old contract, and much of the reason why there is no war with the griffins. I thought it worth keeping.”
“Aw. I thought maybe it was a recipe or something important,” Pinkie said with a rather exaggerated pout. Celestia arched a brow, trying her best to decide whether or not she was joking.
“I am afraid that is one of the very few things you will not find down here. I have not yet gotten around to trying my hoof at baking.”
“That’s okay, I’ll teach you,” Pinkie said.
“Perhaps one day." Celestia chuckled.
Pinkie grinned, apparently supremely satisfied with this, but true to form, the lull in the conversation didn’t last more than two seconds before Pinkie bounced up on all fours.
“Oh right, you were all ‘hi Pinkie, you look happy’, and I didn’t tell you why!”
Celestia hummed, sparing a fraction of effort to levitate the chest’s lid into place. “Is there a particular reason?”
“Yeah-huh!” Pinkie nodded frantically, taking a determined hop to bring her closer to the princess. “I figured it all out, and now we can totally go on a date!”
Celestia pulled back, blinked, and stared. “Excuse me?”
Pinkie frowned and rolled her jaw, her face contorting slowly as she sought a different angle. She raised one brow, then the other, this time speaking more slowly. It took visible effort; Pinkie’s entire body practically hummed with energy.
“Date. You and me!” She stuck out her tongue and scratched the top of her muzzle. “We should totally do something like that. Movies! Ooh, or a fancy restaurant. That’s what Rarity would call a date, and she knows these things.”
“You are presuming quite a lot.” Celestia shifted where she sat. She could scarcely begin to think before Pinkie went on.
“Sure!” Pinkie said. “Maybe we should go to Cloudsdale instead. Rainbow Dash is always talking about how awesome it is at sunset, and Fluttershy said that that’s what ‘romantic’ means, but it sounds a lot like what ‘colorful’ means, so I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about. She’s probably been reading too many books again.”
“I believe you are missing my point entirely,” Celestia said, voice as carefully flat and neutral as she could make it, but Pinkie took no notice. The princess shook her head, but Pinkie Pie was not even looking to her. Celestia swallowed a sigh.
Pinkie Pie giggle-snorted. “Oh, that’s fine by me, I don’t mind if you just wanna sit on a couch somewhere and eat marshmallows out of a bag, because that’s pretty much my favorite thing to do, only—”
“And precisely when did I say I wished to be a part of this?” Even though she tried to keep her face carefully blank, Celestia knew she wasn’t doing a very good job, and her voice sounded rough to her own ears now.
Finally, Pinkie Pie was silenced. The entire room went quiet as a tomb, and Pinkie’s smile faltered bit by bit until the corners of her mouth wobbled and sagged. Even her eyes seemed to have lost some of their spark. “Oh.”
Celestia took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she could. When Pinkie Pie spoke up again, she sounded like another pony entirely, the words clumsy and slow.
“Um, that’s a ‘no,’ isn’t it? That’s okay. I mean, no’s aren’t my favorite, but—are we still friends?”
For half a second, hearing Pinkie Pie so subdued, Celestia wondered if she had a heart at all, but that little stab was an unwelcome confirmation. The princess of the sun risked a rather crude snort and stretched her neck to its fullest extent before she lit her horn.
“This is not the place for talk. I am going to relocate us unless you object.”
Pinkie’s acceptance came in the form of a confused nod, but that was more than enough. Celestia called upon her magic, and the dreary cellar disappeared not a moment later, giving way to far more welcoming surroundings.
At least, that was the plan. Grey stone faded, and rows of white-painted cupboards took their place. The polished stone floor winked out of existence, and now they stood upon marble tiles speckled with what Celestia assumed was tomato sauce. Instead of crates, there were stoves and counters.
Silver Ladle nearly dropped the pan she gripped in her mouth, and the entire palace kitchen staff froze momentarily when Princess Celestia and Pinkie Pie appeared in their midst.
“Princess. We were just about to get started on dinner,” her head chef said, depositing her cargo on a nearby bench before bowing low. A dozen curious eyes were fastened on them from all around the vast kitchen landscape, ponies peeking over and around the rows of counters that lined the brightly lit room.
“I am glad. May I have use of the room for now, though?” Celestia smiled with conviction and purpose. That always did the trick. The staff glanced at each other in confusion, then back at her, but Celestia kept smiling expectantly. A second later, Silver Ladle bowed again and gave a muttered “Princess”, leading the rest of the chefs out and into the palace halls.
Pinkie Pie didn’t ask, but Celestia felt compelled to answer. “Apparently, I am terribly distracted and hungry, and I focused much more on ‘away’ than any specific location, but this will serve for now. I suppose I should be pleased we are still in the palace.”
Still Pinkie Pie said nothing. Perhaps it was up to Celestia to say something less vapid first, then. The princess closed her eyes for something that was little more than an extended blink, a bid for time to collect herself, but when she again looked, all that remained of Pinkie Pie was a bushy pink tail poking out from a nearby cupboard. Celestia planted her royal tush on the floor and watched while Pinkie darted around the kitchen. Eventually, she’d produced a plastic bowl and a host of dry ingredients. It did wonders in dispelling the princess’ frown.
“May I ask what you are doing?” Celestia asked.
Pinkie peered over her own shoulder, little more than an extended glance. She nodded and gave a little huff before hopping on top of the counter, pouring sugar into the bowl.
“I’m baking. I should start listening to ponies who are cleverer than me, but I don’t,” she said, mustering up a fierce pout. “I never listen. I know how to make cookies, but stupid, silly Pinkie Pie never listens to other ponies.”
“That doesn’t sound right to me. Why—” Celestia tried, but Pinkie cut her off.
“It is!” Pinkie cried, flinging the now empty bag of sugar into the air and leaning over the bowl. “I keep saying stupid things, and I keep doing stupid things, and that’s what stupid ponies do, and now—”
Celestia lit her horn and yanked the bowl away from under Pinkie Pie, hovering it up and out of reach. Pinkie Pie flopped onto the counter and glared up at the bowl without moving.
“Hey. Give that back!”
“Not for as long as you insult yourself so. You are not stupid, and anypony to suggest anything of the sort will answer to me.” Celestia narrowed her eyes at the sullen pony. “And that includes you yourself. Explain.”
Rather than answer, Pinkie Pie stared long and hard at the bowl of sugar that hovered close to the ceiling. A moment later, a pink missile launched from the counter, latching on to it with forehooves and teeth both, dangling from the poor piece of kitchenware like some outsize ornament.
Celestia sighed and levitated both Pinkie and the bowl down until she was eye to eye with Pinkie Pie, their snouts almost close enough to touch. She lowered her voice to one step above a whisper, patience warring with urgency, curiosity with confusion. “Pinkie Pie? You have done nothing wrong, and I am not angry, but I need you to help me understand. Why this? Why now?”
Pinkie Pie stared right back at her, still clinging to the bowl. Eyes that had been defiant now softened, and her ears drooped.
“At the beginning, please,” Celestia said, gently putting Pinkie and her precious bowl back onto the ground. Pinkie Pie nodded her head once, cradling the sugar bowl.
“I tried to think, I really did. See, before we went to the Wandering Wonderland, Twilight told me that if I really really liked you, I should think about it first, and I thought that sounded really clever, so I did. Not just because Twilight is a really good friend and super important to me, but because it sounded responsible, and I can be responsible, I really can!” Pinkie sighed and dipped her head into the mound of sugar, coming back up with a sugar-frosted muzzle.
“But I’m terrible at thinking. You have no idea how bad I am at it! It’s not like when I need to think about who to invite for a party, I had no idea what to think! And I don’t know how to think about anything when there’s something I’d rather be doing, either, like hanging out with the neatest and prettiest and best princess ever.” Pinkie gave a weak little giggle and shook her head. “I tried. I tried so hard to figure this thinking thing out, but it just made my head hurt. It made some other things hurt, too.”
Pinkie Pie brought a hoof up to touch her own chest, her eyes downcast. “I don’t know. When we got back from the theme park, I told Twilight everything I had tried to think about, and how terrible it was, because sometimes, I think—” Pinkie paused, reaching back to grab a hold of her own tail. “Applejack likes this one word, and I don’t use it a whole lot because it sounds silly and boring all at the same time, but the word’s ‘sincere’. I thought maybe Twilight thought I wasn’t sincere just because I was super excited.”
Celestia sighed and reached up to rub at her own forehead, the few missing pieces falling into place. Pinkie Pie didn’t seem to pay her much heed, resting her head on the rim of the sugar bowl now.
“She told me she didn’t mean it like that, that she didn’t mean to make me sad or hurt either. She said she’d been really stupid, and that I was silly and stupid too, and then we hugged and pretended not to cry.” Pinkie giggled and sniffled both at once. “She cares a lot. And I care a lot, too. I guess.” Slowly her eyes rose, tentatively tracing Celestia’s form until they came to rest upon the princess’ own eyes.
“And I care about you a lot, but you’re not surprised at all that I said that. You’re not going all, ‘oh wow, Pinkie Pie really really likes me and said we should totally go on a date.’ I guess that means you knew.”
Celestia nodded once, as slow and gentle a movement as she could make it. “I suspected it, to be precise. I thought you might.”
Pinkie Pie smiled, but it wasn’t the sort of smile to bring joy to anypony’s heart. It was a smile that cut deep, a wounded and wounding thing. Though she didn’t slow down in the least, her voice was thinner and more desperate with every word.
“I think you’re great, and I want to see you smile, but I want to see everypony—and griffin, and everything else smile, too, so I don’t understand all of it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. I can be sincere. I can mean things that matter, too.”
“And I believe you.” Celestia said, rising up to take the three steps she needed to bridge the distance between them. She could of course simply have levitated Pinkie over to her side with a thought, but that was exactly the point. The princess leaned down to bring herself level with Pinkie. “I believe your every word, and anypony who thinks your opinions matter less because of your mannerisms is wrong. You know your friends know better, and so do I. Trust us. Trust me.”
Pinkie Pie steepled her hooves and swallowed. “But you said no.”
Celestia shook her head a fraction of an inch, leaning further forward. “I did not. Again you presume, and that is the problem. You did not ask me any questions, so I said neither yes nor no.”
Pinkie’s reply was a blink and another blink. Slowly the earth mare sat up, her head following Celestia as the taller alicorn sat up straight.
“You never asked,” the princess said, again. “Perhaps you should have considered that it would be polite to leave it up to me to decide.”
“Oh.” Pinkie’s ears remained pinned flat to her skull. “Normally, ponies just tell me no when they don’t want to play or something. Sometimes they’re pretty loud when they do, too.”
“Then sometimes, if you do not want a ‘no’, asking for a yes may help. It is respectful, and while I may enjoy your company every bit as much as your friends do, I will not pretend I am okay with being ignored. I happen to like being given a choice.” Celestia chuckled and flashed a smile. “And perhaps certain princesses have not been asked out for many, many years and would quite like that. I may be old-fashioned at times.”
Pinkie Pie rubbed her eyes with the back of a leg, nodding fiercely. “I can do that. I can be the asking-est pony ever!”
Celestia shook her head and laughed. “The pony doesn’t exist who in their right mind would want you to be somepony other than Pinkie Pie. All I ask is that sometimes, you offer something in return. I respect that you are serious, and for that, you need to respect that this is a question with an answer, not something you are entitled to.”
That brought forth a smile. Pinkie rose to stand, bouncing on the spot. “I’m pretty much the best at being Pinkie Pie, I got that that down pat. So. Can we hug now? Or, oh, right, sorry." Pinkie cleared her throat and planted all fours on the floor, looking up at Celestia with a bright, cheery grin. "D’you wanna hug?”
“I would be delighted to,” Celestia said, grinning right back. She barely had the time to finish her sentence before Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around her neck and squeezed her tight. It was hardly the cordial neck-hugs that Twilight favored, but still she did not complain. Celestia unfurled a wing to wrap around Pinkie Pie and squeeze back.
“Do you wanna go on a date sometime too?”
The words were muffled, and when Celestia craned her neck to look down, she saw Pinkie Pie’s muzzle resting alongside her chest looking right back up at her, smiling, ever smiling. She hadn’t been lying when she said that she wanted to hear those exact words, a simple question that at times seemed reserved for everypony but a princess.
“And she’s up for it? Just like that?” Rainbow Dash asked. The book she’d been reading sailed in an arc over her shoulders, forgotten while the pegasus peered over the rim of the bookcase that was her perch. Twilight didn’t even comment; a magical glow seized the book and re-shelved it with precision that bespoke unwilling practice.
“Yeppers! Just like that,” Pinkie said. She kicked the door shut behind her and trotted into the library proper. She’d smiled all the way home from Canterlot, and at present, she wasn’t quite sure she could ever stop. “I don’t actually know what you mean with ‘like that’, but we’re going out on a date, so if that’s what you mean, you’re right!”
Rainbow Dash laughed. “Oh my gosh, that is awesome. You’re going out with Princess Celestia! How?”
“That’s what I said, and that was exactly what I meant to say when I said she said yes, wow, it’s like you can read my lips! Or, well, my words.” Pinkie tilted her head and beckoned her friend down, trotting them both a little closer to the desk behind which Twilight sat. So far, the unicorn had said rather little, but watched and listened.
“And how?” Pinkie stuck her tongue out while she thought, scratching her head to try to stir her brain into action. It wasn’t quite the same as a pound of sugar, but it’d have to do. “I talked, I think. I told her everything! Some things, anyway. I didn’t tell her all my secrets. I didn’t tell her that Fluttershy makes cute noises in her sleep and that sometimes I sneak into her bedroom to poke her, or that I actually ate twenty-seven corn cakes, but a mare’s gotta have some mystery, right? I read that in a book.”
“Sure.” Rainbow Dash grinned and shook her head, but frowned soon after when her attention fell upon the silent unicorn. “Hey, Twilight? Why aren’t you freaking out or whatever? Are you hearing this?”
Twilight’s mouth hung open for a moment. “I... that’s not fair,” she said. She sighed and sank down to lean against the desk, turning to face Pinkie Pie. “It’s not in my place to ‘freak out’ anyway, and I’m happy for you, I really am. It’s a little weird, sure, but I’m here for you.”
Pinkie giggle-snorted, a broad grin on her face as she trotted around the writing desk to throw a leg around Twilight’s neck. “That’s really nice of you, but it doesn’t have to be weird or silly or strange; you don’t have to call me ‘dad!’”
Dash’s snickering was a faint backdrop to the sheer un-noise of Twilight’s extreme lack of expression and the flatness of her tone. “Pinkie Pie? She’s not my mother.”
“Aw okay. Uncle then!”
Twilight ground her forehead with a hoof. “That’s not how it works.”
Pinkie hopped up and down. “Ooh, but it does work? I win!”
Rather than groan, roll her eyes, or do any of the other little gestures Pinkie had grown accustomed to, Twilight gave a little giggle and shook her head. She even smiled. It was enough to give a pink earth mare pause and ask consider if perhaps she’d finally driven her friend crazy.
“I’m sure it’ll work out fine,” Twilight said, leaning to touch her head to Pinkie’s. The quiet only lasted until interrupted by the creak of the Library’s front door and Rainbow Dash’s voice soon after.
“Hey Rarity, Pinkie’s going on a date!”
Rarity paused at the threshold, a pony frozen in time for the a fraction of a second. The book she’d been levitating at her side dropped dangerously close to the ground before it was whisked away by a burst of Twilight’s magic. At Pinkie’s side, the unicorn muttered something about disrespect for literature.
“Well, this is news,” Rarity said, slowly approaching the other three. “Am I right to assume that this is a result of yet another one of your visits to Canterlot? A date with—”
“Princess Celestia!” Dash blurted, her grin almost matching Pinkie’s.
Pinkie Pie nodded and ran over to bump snouts with Rarity. “What she said! I was all, ‘hey, do you wanna eat marshmallows with me sometime?’ and she was all ‘sure thing Pinkie, you’re the best’! Except it didn’t happen like that at all, but I did bake her cookies before I went home!”
“I’m sure,” Rarity said. She levitated out a handkerchief from her mane to wipe her snout before smiling back at her. “Well, that’s simply the most delightful news I’ve heard all day, then! Have you begun preparing? Do you have plans for what to wear at all? You do realize I would delight in designing something new for you to wear, and if you need brush up on—ah, rather, if you want some pointers in basic etiquette, I’m sure I can try to help with that.”
Pinkie Pie squinted. Making squinty eyes didn’t actually help her think by itself, but it made the world a little smaller, and with less to look at, it was slightly easier to pin her brain to task. “Dresses? Eaty-whats? Aw, maybe? I was just gonna wing it!”
Rarity stared as if the words simply failed to find their way into her ears. A very subtle frown crossed her features, one that bespoke an incoming crisis of faith. “You... plan on going out with a princess without any preparations and with not so much as a single curled eyelash?”
“Nuh-uh,” Pinkie said, giggling. “I’m not going out with a princess, I’m dating Celestia!”
While Rarity didn’t seem able to find words for the moment, Twilight trotted around her desk. “I think all Rarity means is that you of course want the date to go well. I don’t think that, I, ah,” she gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. “I guess doing everything by the book isn’t the most—isn’t the only important thing.”
Pinkie Pie shrugged. “Sure? I mean, yeah, I do, I totally do want to have a super time, but I really just wanna hang out more with her. If she wants to go on a date with me, she’ll go on a date with me, and that’s exactly who I am!”
Twilight gave a small nod and a smile, while Rarity scratched one leg with the other and coughed.
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Rarity said, shaking her head. “I simply don’t get an opportunity like this very often, and I would so love to help.”
“Aw, that’s okay. It’s next weekend, so you have plenty of time to try to convince me to try that eaty thing and maybe make some kind of neat action dress so neat, I won’t be able to say no!” Pinkie gasped. “Maybe you can make a pink stealth suit with wings? That would be so cool!”
Rarity smiled in the way she did when Pinkie had said something particularly silly, though Pinkie couldn’t quite tell what that might have been. “I’m certain we can reach some sort of, ah, compromise.”
“Next week?” Dash asked. “Where’re you taking her? Ponyville Cinema’s showing The Return of Krastos on Friday!”
“I don’t think that’s what the princess has in mind,” Twilight said, laughing. “Sorry, Rainbow, but I think she’d be more interested in a proper play.”
“Or perhaps a symphonic piece,” Rarity said. Dash rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.
“Oh. I’m not taking her. She’s taking me,” Pinkie said. “She asked me if I minded her arranging and fixing everything up nice because everything we’ve done so far has been my kinda stuff, and then she got a really clever look on her face and I kind of lost track because I started wondering if her cutie mark is hot like the sun and then she asked me why I was staring at her butt. After that we decided to get back to making cookies in the royal kitchen. The chef with the biggest hat was really nice!”
“I see,” Twilight said in a tone that suggested she did, in fact, not see at all. Pinkie decided not to argue the point all the same.
“Well. I, for one, find that rather romantic, in an odd, roundabout sort of way, ignoring that very last part about flanks,” Rarity said, leaning over to give Pinkie a brief hug. “I do hope you’ll forgive my earlier misgivings. None of us are infallible, I suppose.”
“I don’t know about that,” Pinkie said, leaning back against Rarity. She closed her eyes and buried her head in the purple mane of her friend; Rarity’s mane was far softer than it looked, and she so rarely got the chance to snuggle it. “You say lots of really clever things. I’m still thinking about what you said about ponies with bigger smiles on the inside,” she said, poking her head out of Rarity’s mane to smile at Twilight and Rainbow Dash. “Can you imagine how big the smile Celestia is keeping bottled up is?”
Rarity made a little noise not entirely unlike the little squeals Twilight tended to make when a new shipment of books arrived from the Royal Library, and a set of surprisingly strong legs squeezed around Pinkie’s neck, making her giggle. Dash, for her part, looked away and waved a hoof in dismissal, and Twilight said nothing, dropping her eyes with a smile.
“You simply must give me all the details when you return,” Rarity said, finally letting go. “Right now, however, I need to give Fluttershy and Applejack the news!”
“Sure!” Pinkie Pie said. “You can try to make me wear a dress later, and then we can make a totally not at all planned round of hide and seek in your boutique!”
Rarity didn’t smile quite as bright at that. Rather, one of the corners of her mouth desperately tried to tug the other one along for the ride while she made for the door. “Until then!”
Once Rarity had left and the door closed behind her, Rainbow Dash stretched her entire body, then her wings one by one. “Anyways, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head home for a nap unless you guys need me for anything.”
Twilight chuckled. “As invaluable as you’ve been in creating a mess here, I think I’m ready to let you go. Seriously though, thank you for the company.”
“Hey, no problem. Thanks for the food.” Dash grinned.
“Need you for anything,” Pinkie repeated, rolling her jaw. “Hm. I can’t think of anything either. Oh, wait! That’s unless you wanna come along for the date!”
Rainbow Dash gave a short burst of laughter. “Pinkie, you really have no clue how dates work, do you? I don’t care about that sort of junk, but even I know—”
“Of course I do!” Pinkie said. “I meant like a double date! That’d twice as datealicious.”
Twilight shook her head and gathered the books spread out over her desk into a neat stack. “Last time I checked, Rainbow Dash didn’t have a special somepony in her life,” she said, though she raised a brow and peered over at the pegasus even as she spoke.
“You could ask Luna out!” Pinkie beamed. “She’s always around the castle. Or is it a palace? I keep forgetting, but I know where her bedroom is!”
A smirk slowly spread across Rainbow Dash’s face. “I’m liking that idea.”
Twilight rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Really funny, you two. I’m not going to take the bait this time.”
Dash’s grin disappeared in an instant. The pegasus poked her own chest, the very image of indignation. “What? Why do you think I haven’t been around that much lately, huh? Rarity gave me some books about dating, and come on, Luna’s totally hot.”
“You—” Twilight sputtered. “You what? I—no, I mean, of course it’s none of my business, but I—”
Rainbow Dash said nothing, simply staring at Twilight with the tiniest and most devious smile Pinkie had seen in a long while. Slowly, Twilight’s protests petered out until the unicorn’s ears lay flat against her head. She flicked her tail once and snorted.
“Okay. Fine. You got me.”
“Too easy,” Dash snickered, making for the door. “Catch you later.”
Pinkie Pie paused by the door. It was already dark outside, but she’d not feared the dark for a very long time. Besides, Ponyville was still alive with plenty of ponies milling about; some were heading to meet with friends, she imagined. Some were coming home from work, a rare few were heading to work, and perhaps a few of the pairs of ponies who walked down mane street were on their way to some date-y place like the movies, the park, or a very comfy couch.
She was most certainly not afraid of the dark, and she had plenty to do. Back home at Sugarcube Corner, Gummy would be anxious to hear all about her Canterlot trip. Oh sure, Gummy pretended he didn’t care, and sometimes he barely even blinked when Pinkie told him the most amazing things, but she knew that he loved it deep in his little gator-heart.
When that was all done, she needed to head straight to bed to get plenty of rest if she was to get up early in the morning—no less than three ponies had their birthdays tomorrow, and she was sure that Lily would appreciate a surprise birthday muffin delivered to her when she left her home for work at six thirty-five in the morning.
And still she lingered in the doorway. She wasn’t actually quite sure if it counted as lingering if nopony had asked her to leave, demanded she leave, or physically tried to shove her out the door, but the quality of the silence felt very linger-y. Something else kept her.
Almost as confusing as the odd and tingly feeling that made her linger was the fact that Twilight hadn’t even commented. The unicorn stood at her side in silence, just like she had ever since Rainbow Dash had left a few minutes earlier.
“Are you okay?”
If Pinkie Pie were to be honest, those words could have belonged to either of them, but it had definitely been Pinkie herself who asked. Twilight looked like she wanted to say something, only she didn’t.
“Hm? Yeah. I’m fine, I just...” Twilight trailed off, licking her lips, swallowing, sighing and shaking her head with such mechanical precision, part of Pinkie Pie wanted to applaud. The unicorn’s expression suggested that she wasn’t looking for applause.
“Listen, Pinkie. I know I said this before, but I’m really sorry I made such a big deal out of this... this everything.”
Pinkie shrugged and bumped her flank against Twilight’s. “S’okay, silly!”
“It’s not,” Twilight said. “It really isn’t. It was disrespectful to you and to Princess Celestia. It was childish. I’m better than that. I didn’t mean to mumh fh—”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head and leaned in close. When she put a hoof under Twilight’s lower muzzle and pushed, Twilight’s mouth closed. It did wonders in stopping the nonsense from tumbling out of her friend.
“You’re being silly, and everything is okay, okay?”
Twilight looked indignant for a second, pulling away from Pinkie’s hoof, but at length she nodded. Slowly at first, her repeated nods eventually came with conviction. “Right. Okay. Just believe me when I say I’m happy for you. For both of you.”
Pinkie smiled and touched her snout to Twilight’s. “Of course I do.”
Twilight rubbed at her face with the nook of a leg. “I’m still going to insist on making it up to you somehow, but, uh, so. Are you okay? It looked like you zoned out there for a little bit.”
Pinkie had a simple answer for that. Most of her was ready to shout “of course!” and hug Twilight—perhaps reach inside one of her nearby party stashes and add some confetti for added effect. Most, but not all of her. A tiny part argued that she wasn’t entirely super-duper completely sure, like a piece of carrot in a chunk of nougat.
“Probably,” Pinkie said. Twilight sat down and perked her ears, and it made Pinkie feel a little less silly for her own uncertainty.
“What do you call it when you feel very, very good, but at the same time, there’s this, um,” Pinkie bit her lower lip and clopped her hooves together, searching for words with which to pin this strange thing down. “It’s not-good, but not entirely bad either, like you’re not sure about something that’s going to happen, and you like it, but at the same time—nuts, this is super hard.”
Twilight’s expression immediately softened. The unicorn scooted a little closer and couldn’t quite stifle a giggle, but it was the nicest laughter Pinkie had heard in a long while and it came with a small grin to boot.
“I think most would call that nervousness or fear. Perhaps ‘trepidation’ if you want to be specific. Does that sound familiar?”
Pinkie Pie sighed through her nose. “Well, I don’t like it. Or maybe I do. That’s what’s silly about this. I can’t decide! It’s almost like the pre-party jitters, but with less sugar. I’m not supposed to worry, Twilight!”
Twilight nodded and leaned in against Pinkie Pie. It helped a lot more than it should against the faint chill seeping in from the open door. “I don’t think it’s that strange, but it’s not a problem unless you let it stop you, and the Pinkie Pie I know is going to be eager to head over to Canterlot and find out how this all goes.”
“Oh.” Pinkie sat down, peered down at her own tummy, and gave it a little prod. “The date. Yeah, that’s probably it. For a second I thought it was about the birthday muffins I’m baking tomorrow, but this makes loads more sense—aw, and it’s totally worry-ful too. Can we go back to me not realizing?”
“You said it yourself, when Princess Celestia herself says ‘be yourself’, well, having good advice in the form of a royal decree, you can’t beat that. What’s there to worry about? You’ll be fine.”
Twilight’s smile was so sincere and honest, it was tempting to agree, but now that the world was slowing down a tiny bit—when the smell of fresh-baked cookies faded and there were fewer ponies in the room than Pinkie had hooves—it was a little too easy to answer that.
“I guess,” Pinkie muttered. “But being Pinkie Pie also means that sometimes, I’m a teensy tiny bit silly in a bad way, too, and I don’t want to be. I don’t ever mean to be mean, but sometimes, you can hurt somepony by saying things they don’t want to hear. Inconsiderate.”
Twilight’s reply was a tilt of her head. Pinkie perked her ears, glad to be able to teach her friend something.
“It’s was the word of the day on your calendar Monday last week, it means—”
“I know what the word means, Pinkie. I just wonder who would ever say these things about you.”
“Oh, nopony. I just thought that since things almost didn’t go as great as they did for a little bit—”
“Inconsiderate. The pony who took my stupid words so seriously it hurt her?” Twilight asked, crossing her forelegs. “The pony who spends every day trying to make others smile? The mare who can't sleep unless she's thrown a party to make everypony else feel special, yet sometimes forgets her own name?”
Pinkie Pie stuck her tongue out and slowly tilted her head sideways. Unless she had missed something, and she frequently did, they were nice words, but Twilight looked a little bit angry.
“Pinkie Pie? Trust me. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I know you, and I know Princess Celestia.”
“Ooh.” Pinkie Pie bounced up on all fours, grinning. “Does that mean you can help me cheat on my test by telling me all kinds of little secrets about her?”
Twilight shook her head and rose to stand, indicating the door with a flick of her head before leaning over for a quick hug. “No, it means that it’s going to be fine, and that I’m not worried, which means you shouldn’t be, either. I’ll see you tomorrow—I got a couple of books you can read about formal etiquette and everything if you really want them, but right now, it’s goodnight.”
If anypony had ever thought that Pinkie Pie never listened—and many ponies had said just that—they would eat their words right now. Pinkie had to admit it sounded like a particularly terrible fate, especially if the words were to replace a meal rather than be added to it. Skipping dinner just to eat a silly sentence wasn’t something she’d wish upon her worst enemy, even if she had such a thing.
Pinkie Pie shrugged and reached down to poke the hem of her dress. Saturday afternoon, around five o'clock, Celestia had said, and that was exactly when she’d arrived at the palace. Welcome, miss. Please follow me, the nice pony with the long, red mane had said, and Pinkie followed. Please have a seat, the Princess will be with you shortly, the same pony had said when they arrived at a small waiting chamber, and so Pinkie waited.
So far, the date was a success. She’d even taken the precaution of listening to other ponies before the date, and what she wore was proof of that. Rarity’s newest dress was smaller and less fabric-y than the last one she’d made, and Pinkie was glad. Most fancy dresses just made her feel like something was chasing her, like a vicious gopher or a pack of meerkats had latched onto her tail. This snazzy thing was more like a vest with a dress skirt that hugged her flank, barely reaching the ground. Pinkie shifted where she sat and straightened it again. It was a nice dress, and soft, too.
If she had to be completely honest though, the dress didn’t need a whole lot of straightening. Pinkie bit her lower lip and tried to find something to occupy her, but it was like these waiting rooms were designed to be as pretty yet un-fun as possible. Couches, pillows, tables and lamps. While that was plenty for a round of Pinkie’s thirteenth favorite game of Couches and Lamps, it was very much a two-player activity.
Waiting, then. Pinkie sank down in her seat, disappearing between the colorful pillows until she couldn’t tell where Pinkie ended and the pillows began. The world slowed down a tiny bit, and she started thinking again. Her mind drifted back to a certain conversation with Twilight, to words that kept Pinkie sane even if they didn’t quite ring true.
She wasn’t afraid. The more Pinkie thought about her own words, the less she believed in fear. In uncertainty. In all those other crazy words Twilight suggested. Of course Pinkie knew what fear meant. She still remembered what it had been like to be afraid of the dark. Nopony could stare down a roaring dragon without feeling fear, and besides, Pinkie once thought she’d used Sugarcube Corner’s last packet of sugar on a Saturday evening. She knew fear better than anypony, and this wasn’t it.
She just had no clue what it was, this unbearable pressure that would not relent even though she knew exactly why she was doing this all this. She knew her motivation. No sooner had she started thinking about her quest than did the smaller set of doors of the waiting room open, admitting not one, but four ponies. Princess Celestia entered first, shortly followed by two guards and a unicorn mare.
For the longest time, Pinkie could do nothing but sit and stare at the prettiest pony she had ever seen, the tall princess with hair like a river of color, a coat of purest white, and eyes that begged for a reason to always smile and laugh.
Of course, technically the princess looked like she usually and always did, shod and clad in all her golden shinies, but that was kind of the point. She even brought out her usual calm full-body barely-a-smile when she nodded at Pinkie.
“Good afternoon, Pinkie Pie. I see you rearranged the waiting room to better suit you.”
Pinkie Pie glanced around at her seating area. “Oh. Oh yeah. Your pillows were all over the place and on the couches and everything,” she said, crawling out from the mound of pillows she’d made. “It’s a lot softer like this. Hi! Who’re your friends?”
Celestia turned to smile at her little entourage, setting them all moving towards the door opposite. Pinkie took up position at Celestia’s side while the earth pony guards walked behind. The unicorn mare trailed behind after nodding by way of greeting.
“This is Boulderdash,” Celestia said, indicating the stallion behind and to her left while opening the doors and leading them down the palace halls. “And this is Tempered Steel. Last, we have Acacia, my attendant.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss Pie,” Acacia said, dipping her head once more.
Pinkie trotted backwards for a little bit, squinting first at the armored guards, then at the deceptively polite and nice unicorn. When she wasn’t staring down at or scribbling on her clipboard, her eyes were darting every which way. There was only one possible explanation.
“Are we going to be attacked by pirates?” Pinkie asked. Sure enough, as soon as the question left Pinkie’s mouth, Acacia looked even more alert. Pinkie looked up at the princess to find Celestia looking right back at her with a chuckle on her lips.
“I hope not, but one can never be too certain,” Celestia said. “Is this you asking about the guard detail?”
“Oh sure! I think you understand me better than I do, really, but okay. Why are we bringing guards? Is the date—oh my gosh, is the date on a pirate ship?” Pinkie bounced higher and higher with each step.
Celestia shook her head and exchanged glances with Acacia. She didn’t reply before they exited a large set of doors and then another, bringing them out under the darkening afternoon sky. The palace must have had at least as many courtyards as waiting rooms, because Pinkie had never seen this small walled-off area before. Celestia made for a large six-pony carriage at the foot of the wide steps they walked.
“In part, I ask them to join me because it is what ponies expect when I leave the palace. I am expected to be guarded, and so I am. Also, it can be hard for me to make all the necessary arrangements and payments and such. Mostly, though? Because they are my friends.”
Celestia smiled, and Pinkie couldn’t quite tell if it was a smile for her or for the guards and the attendant who might secretly be a ninja pony. It didn’t seem that it was either, but rather, both. It was a smile for absolutely everypony. Pinkie’s trot slowed until she came to a halt.
“Wow.”
Celestia paused with one leg up on the carriage’s stairs, tilting her head. “Is this surprising?”
Pinkie Pie giggle-snorted. “No, silly, it’s great! I just thought about how ponies always say I talk to everypony or try to be nice to them and throw parties and everything, but you’re nice to everypony in all of Equestria all at once.” She shook her head slowly, with as much reverence as possible. “I don’t think I want to fight you in a nice-off.”
The two guards both smiled for a fraction of a second, though they were quick to hide their expressions again and find their positions at the side of the carriage. The ninja accountant even went so far as to grin and look up at Celestia, and the princess smiled back.
“It is quite early in the evening for flattery, but I appreciate the compliment,” Celestia said, finally stepping inside the closed carriage. When Acacia did the same, Pinkie followed, planting her tush on a plush bench by Celestia’s side.
“I thought ‘flattery’ meant things that weren’t totally true,” Pinkie said, shrugging. “Where are we going if it isn’t a pirate ship? Is it a secret?”
Celestia chuckled. “No, not at all, and I did not mean to keep you in the dark. We are going to attend the opening of a brand new banquet hall in the Starlit Dome, a rather large gathering of much of the Canterlot elite, some would say.”
Pinkie frowned. “What would you say?”
“I would say that the word ‘elite’ does not flatter anypony, and I make a point of visiting the establishments of those who are less well off, too. Still, Princesses need to make public appearances like these every now and then.”
Pinkie Pie nodded, pretending to understand the silly use of the word ‘need’. Ponies needed to eat their vegetables, and they needed to brush their teeth twice a day to keep them sparkly. She couldn’t say this sounded all that need-y. The carriage jerked, and for a moment nopony spoke, the only sound that of six sets of hooves pulling them across the cobblestones. Canterlot drifted past their windows at a comfortable pace, a mix of marble, painted wood and magical lights.
“Besides,” Celestia said, clearing her throat. “I have it on good authority that they have hired one of Canterlot’s best caterers. There will be food.”
“I like it already,” Pinkie said, grinning hugely. “We could’ve just gone to Joe’s if we wanted snacks though.”
Celestia nodded, leaning forward to steal a peek out one of the thin windows. “Mm, yes, but there is one more thing that very much points us towards the Starlit Dome.”
Pinkie Pie made an inquisitive noise, leaning over to try to see what Celestia was looking for, but the princess reclined and smiled at her.
“Preference. I very much appreciated each and every excursion and dinner with you and our friends, and I look forward to more, but at heart, I am a creature of tradition. This is far more appropriate for a date, and it is what I desire.”
The words were simple and understandable enough, but the way Celestia looked at her suggested it was more. There was no question in her voice, but still it sounded a little bit like Celestia asked permission—or that she was testing her. Pinkie Pie knew for a fact that she’d only had three muffins and a scone before she left for Canterlot, so where all the butterflies in her tummy came from, she had no idea.
“I don’t mind, I bet it’ll be loads of fun! Not every party has to have party poppers. Fluttershy doesn’t like them, so last time she had her birthday, I didn’t use a single one!”
“That sounds like a gesture she would appreciate.”
“Uh-huh! She didn’t like the fireworks I used instead, though,” Pinkie said, pouting. “She said she loved them, but she wouldn’t come down from the rafters for hours.”
Celestia smiled wide and let out her breath, but from the other side of the carriage, Acacia burst into laughter. The unicorn scrambled to cover her mouth with her hooves, her cheeks bright red against her grey coat.
“I’m sorry,” Acacia muttered, another snort bubbling up.
“I did warn you,” Celestia said, laughing. “Looks like we have arrived. Acacia, would you be a dear and tell Boulderdash that he and Tempered Steel can wait by the carriage or by the door? Whichever they prefer is fine, but I am certain the Dome has a porter.”
Acacia nodded and slipped out the carriage just as it stopped, the very last set of clops drowned out by a growing susurrus, a perpetual jumble of talk and movement that doubled when the door opened. Pinkie twiddled her hooves and waited for whatever it was the Princess waited for, but after a moment, the princess didn’t look like she was waiting for anything more.
“For one who speaks of tradition and properness, I have forgotten more than I would like,” Celestia said, her brow knit.
“Oh. You go first,” Pinkie said. “You asked me out, so you leave the carriage first. Rarity told me right before I left! Or left before I right. I forget.”
Celestia blinked, her mouth hanging open for a second before she minded herself, her expression slowly morphing into a smile. “I will not even ask how you could possibly have known that was what I meant. Instead, I will say this: you have wonderful friends.”
“They’re yours too, but yep!” Pinkie affirmed, smiling and following in the colorful tail’s wake out the door. The Starlit Dome was bigger than anything Pinkie had seen short of the palace, a large, dark structure with a glass dome on top that glittered in the sunset. The impending darkness did not deter its visitors in the least; dozens of carriages of varying colors and fanciness flocked to the area, and ponies littered the garden.
“In amidst all this talk, I never had a moment to compliment your dress. I did not mean to be rude.”
Pinkie shook her head and tried to clear it of all the lights and ponies. She could catalogue them later and make the rounds asking for all their names some other time. Or maybe while Celestia went to the bathroom if she needed to. All in good time. Right now, Celestia stood two paces to her left, one foreleg raised as if to say ‘lets go’. And she’d just said something that Pinkie struggled to remember in the face of the desire to ask Celestia if she wanted a hug right there and then.
“Hold up a sec,” Pinkie said, rubbing her temples. “Oh! The dress! Aw, thanks. That’s Rarity’s, too. Why aren’t you wearing a dress? Is it because you’re so pretty you don’t need a dress because you know I’d love a hug anyway?”
There was a noise somewhere between a cough and a snort off to the side, and Pinkie didn’t need to look to know it was Acacia. If she was a ninja of some sort, she was the noisiest and smiliest ninja Pinkie had ever seen.
Celestia neither snorted nor coughed. Rather, she laughed. Celestia gave a full-bodied laugh, and while it wasn’t very loud, it came with a smile that made Pinkie want to grin and glow twice as bright as ever before. She felt happy, warm and content all at once, and while she’d normally revel in all the attention the sound got from the others, she couldn’t quite take her eyes off the smiling princess until finally Celestia covered her mouth with a hoof.
“We should head inside, I think,” Celestia managed, shaking her head and giving another little chuckle. She didn’t seem to care about all the odd looks the well-dressed unicorns were giving them, more concerned with pointing towards the fancy door and leading Pinkie towards it.
“To actually answer your question, no. It is because ponies have come to expect me to wear the royal regalia. The crown, especially, is not just a heavy and impractical hat.”
Pinkie nodded at this. “Heavy, impractical and shiny.”
“I do in fact polish it myself, though my maid insists on giving it a weekly pass as well,” Celestia said. “My point is, they are symbols of my office as a princess. I had a few more items I used around the summer sun celebrations, long ago, but, well. They are lost, and that is quite a long story.”
Pinkie tilted her head, looking up at the princess who now kept her own eyes straight ahead. “I’d love to hear it some time. I love stories! But don’t you think they would recognize you without the shiny shoes and all? I know I would!”
Celestia slowed down as they approached the entrance, an ornate and crowded affair of more glass than stone or wood. The crowd parted before them with nods and more than a few bows, and the stallion in tuxedo by the door proper straightened up even further. Pinkie couldn’t hold back a giggle; his snout had been pointing skywards from beforehoof, and now she could look straight into his nostrils.
“They would,” Celestia said with a little sigh, her voice sounding a little uncertain in the way she sometimes did when Pinkie asked questions. If not for the lingering smile, Pinkie would have guessed she was a little tired or annoyed, but she knew she wasn’t. She didn’t look anything like Rainbow Dash did when Pinkie tried to explain her some new game she’d just made up.
“Your highness,” the porter said, his horn taking on a soft glow as he opened a set of glass doors. Celestia nodded her greeting and said some words or other, but Pinkie hardly listened. She was waiting for the rest of an explanation that never came. Celestia had apparently decided it was time for a new topic. Pinkie Pie shrugged and trotted after the princess, waving her hellos at the silent doorpony to join Celestia inside.
“Oh. Oh wowsies.” The words tumbled out of Pinkie of their own accord simply because they couldn’t not be said. She paused not two steps inside the door, wondering if she truly was inside, her eyes drawn skywards.
The glass dome was fancy enough from outside, but on the inside, it was a whole different bucket of muffins, and all of it was a single room. Right inside the entrance was a small platform and reception area all in plush red carpets and elegant dark stone, and there were spacious stairwells that led down. For all that they were fancy enough to be the front room of any high class restaurant, they were an afterthought. A broad set of central stairs of less than a dozen steps led up to the main level, the biggest room Pinkie Pie had ever seen, all under a glass sky.
Far above, a latticework of hexagonal silver supports framed the glass dome, and as she watched, the sun’s final rays played against it, oranges and yellows filtering in to cast a hush over a crowd momentarily painted bright by the light—and what a crowd it was. There had to be hundreds of ponies spread out across the main level, with dozens of food tables and a large stage where some band or other was setting up.
“Quite the project,” Celestia said. She, too, had her head tilted up to observe the light show. Pinkie trotted the last few steps to stand at her side again, grinning at the princess.
“I guess it’s not as cool when you’re the one doing the whole sun thing, huh? I think it’s super shiny!”
“Or you could make the argument that it is twice as wonderful from my perspective.” Celestia cast one more glance up at the dome before nodding at a passing pony who bowed at her. “Good evening.”
Pinkie giggled. “That’s cheating! Besides, I didn’t say wonderful. I said cool. It’s different.”
Celestia arched a brow. “Can it not be both?”
“Or maybe you just don’t want to use the word ‘cool,’” Pinkie retorted.
“I will use that word when I have heard you use the word ‘meticulous’ properly,” Celestia said, grinning with a smugness Pinkie had not thought her capable of. “And no, you may not ask Twilight for help.”
“Shoot.” Pinkie giggled and pawed at the floor. “Hey, standing here nodding at everypony who walks around us is really fun, too, but do you want to go see if they have something to eat? Is Acacia gonna come along?”
“Ah, no, she will handle some other matters, but I expect she will join up with us later. All the same, I would be terrible company if I cannot arrange for some food at least.” Celestia shook her head. “Shall we?”
Pinkie nodded her assent and angled herself a little closer to Celestia, walking side by side with her as they mounted the stairs and entered into the party area proper. At least, if this was a party hall, the largest and only visible room was probably where the parties were meant to be had, but on closer inspection, Pinkie Pie couldn’t find a whole lot of it.
More ponies filtered in from outside to gather in little groups around tables and in open areas, and the ponies on the stage filled the air with the soft sounds of a piano and string instruments. Celestia led them to a relatively un-crowded food table that had lots of complicated little things Rarity would call snacks, and Pinkie would insist on protesting the definition in at least half the cases.
“Huh. This is really fancy, even for a Canterlot thingy,” Pinkie said, her gaze roaming the entire length of the table. Once she figured out what the little doughy sculptures were, and that the green stuff was spinach, it all looked good—just like how the music was nice, just insufficient. “It’s almost too fancy! Maybe it’s because it has less garden in it than the last one? Oh, and it doesn’t have any crazy bugs trying to steal our hugs by sucking them out through our snouts either!”
Celestia made a questioning little noise, hovering a delicate little slice of cake so small, Pinkie figured she could fit at least twenty in her own mouth. The second the thought left her brain and headed for her mouth, Pinkie clapped her muzzle shut. Just to be on the safe side, she put a hoof in front of her nose, too, just until she was certain it was gone.
It was a date. Celestia had specifically said she liked these kinds of things, and she needed to be at her best. It wasn’t as though Pinkie didn’t like it either. She’d barely stuck her snout inside the place and she was happy, and it didn’t matter if that was probably mostly exactly because she was on a date. She tried to be respectful of Fluttershy’s wishes, she barely ever toppled Twilight’s bookcases any more, and she tried not to wake Rainbow Dash in the middle of the night unless absolutely necessary. She could have fun without a carousel or any major explosions.
Except, Celestia had said she wanted Pinkie Pie to be herself. To be Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie sat down on the floor and stared at the snack table that had suddenly become impossible. It had a lot of delicate treats fit for a delicate mouth, but what would Pinkie Pie do in this situation? What would Pinkie Pie do about music that was merely ‘nice?’ She had absolutely no idea.
“Pinkie Pie? Are you quite alright?”
Pinkie Pie took a deep breath to stop her head from spinning. “Oh, yeah. Um. Sure! The music’s just a teensy weensy bit slow. That’s, um, all. Can ponies be allergic to pianos? I’m a little bit allergic to pianos. Yep!”
Celestia turned her head to look across the length of the entire hall. Twice, she had to smile and give her polite greetings to passing pairs of ponies, but at length she turned back to Pinkie Pie with the tiniest hint of a grin on her lips.
“Do you know, I actually agree. It could stand to be the tiniest bit less dull,” Celestia said.
That was all it took to bring the smile back to Pinkie Pie, to flush out all the silly thoughts and eclipse the worries that had begun building. Pinkie stood up and giggled, reaching over to grab two plates, one holding a selection of little cinnamon and chocolate treats, the other laden with thin cake slices.
“You want one?”
“I just had one,” Celestia said, but Pinkie wasn’t fooled. Despite her words, the princess didn’t shake her head no.
“Is this another princess thing?”
Celestia levitated over a tall glass with entirely too little fizzy whatever-it-was. She took a single sip, peering over the rim of the glass with one brow raised. “I am not sure what you mean. Most ponies here are content with eating light. It is part of the culture.”
“Well, sure, but you’re always going on about princess this and princess that!” Pinkie paused to accept the glass Celestia magicked over to her, reluctantly putting one of the food trays back onto the table so she could hold it. “It’s super confusing, because every time there’s something princesses do, there are a hundred things princesses don’t. Don’t turn into a pegasus, don’t wear a dress, wear a silly crown—aw, okay, the crown’s shiny, I guess, but...”
And again, that lingering shadow of a smile that bespoke thought. Celestia’s eyes rested on her glass. Pinkie downed her own in a single gulp, but it wasn’t so interesting as to warrant staring; it was simple bubbly pear cider with half as many bubbles as Applejack’s apple cider.
“What you need to understand is that a princess is what I am.”
“I know that, but—”
“It is part of me as much as anything else. I do not spend every moment of my life straining against my bonds wishing I, too, could grab a whole cake whenever I pleased.” Celestia smiled when Pinkie put the other plate back onto the table as well. “If I truly wanted a cake, I could have one baked, and the worst that would happen is that the palace staff would gossip. As they do.”
“Or I could teach you how to bake one!”
“Or that.” Celestia dipped her head an inch. “In fact, I am counting on that, though you may find me a frustratingly slow learner. Still, you make it sound like a princess is something you think I would rather not be.”
Pinkie rubbed a foreleg with the other. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just that everypony calls you princess all the time, but it doesn’t seem to mean a whole lot other than ‘somepony who doesn’t know how to bake a cake!’”
Celestia chuckled, nodding and smiling at another pair of ponies who approached only to turn away when they saw she was engaged in a conversation. “Some would suggest that ruling Equestria and all that comes with it is fairly meaningful. It means quite a great deal to most ponies.”
“Okay, and that.” Pinkie huffed. “But what about you? I just don’t understand why you don’t get to help decide what being a princess means instead of everypony else who thinks you shouldn’t have more cake.”
The princess in question had no reply to that. At least not immediately. All the better an excuse to show exactly what she meant. Pinkie Pie hopped off the floor and onto the snack table with as much elegance as she could muster; three out of four hooves found nice and dry spots, and she could lick the fourth one clean of punch later anyway. Her dress looked better with chocolate on it, too.
“Maybe I should be a princess!” Pinkie said, rising up to stand on two legs and bringing out her party voice. “I’m The Princess of Parties, and I declare this party super-duper boring! I demand fancier music with tubas and accordions and twice as much—no, three times as many snack tables!”
Her subjects didn’t seem very inclined to listen. Most of what she got were stares. Some were curious, far more were snooty-look-down-your-snout stares—Rarity had a fancy word for that—and the vast majority were just plain old shocked. The only one who didn’t seem to fall into any of those three group was the other princess in the room. Celestia said nothing, raising her glass for another sip, one brow raised as if asking her to go on.
“Hey, I said more noise, not less noise. You’re being creepy quiet!” Pinkie said. Even the band had stopped playing. “I was making princessly decrees here. Snacks! Music! Dancing!”
A stallion with a monocle cleared his throat and looked away. A nearby group of three mares went back to their conversation, this time in hushed whispers with occasional glances back at the party princess perched on the table. All she had achieved in her short reign was to ensure that their table was extra isolated. Pinkie Pie pouted and watched her principality dissolve before her eyes. The barely-worth-being-called-music started up again.
“That will give them something to talk about,” Celestia whispered, obviously trying very hard to conceal a grin.
Pinkie Pie hopped off the table and gave her left hindleg a shake, then a sniff. “Hm. Pineapple. Not my favorite. Oh, and yeah, I didn’t expect it to work well, but that was even worse than I thought. I guess being a princess isn’t easy after all.”
“Wisdom from experience is very valuable.” Celestia nodded. “Even so, you truly do not care at all that I am a princess, do you?”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head a perfect ninety degrees. “Huh? Sure I care!”
Celestia leaned a tiny bit closer, both brows raised. In the silence that followed, Pinkie Pie tilted her head the other way, then back again.
“And?” Celestia asked.
“And what? I care about pretty much everything, really. Your crown is really shiny and you look pretty with it on. Does that count?”
Celestia sighed, smiled and shook her head. “I suppose it will have to. While you may not be poised to redefine what it means to be a princess, will my taking a second slice of cake appease you for the moment?”
Pinkie Pie beamed and held up the chocolate cake tray, giggling when one of the slices hovered up, surrounded by a golden glow. “It’s a start.”
“Now, the next point on the royal agenda is to say hello to some of these ponies,” Celestia said, taking a bite. Apparently, princesses waited until they had chewed and swallowed before they spoke. “Would you walk with me? I am certain it will be better with two princesses than one.”
“Sure! I’m bringing the cake though.” Pinkie scratched her chin and reached out to place a particularly well-sculpted pastry on top of her head. The treat was covered in golden luster dust and made for a lovely crown. “Okay. Ready!”
There were a lot of ponies to be greeted. Pinkie Pie trailed after Celestia while the taller princess made the rounds. Everywhere they went—meaning between tables and groups so similar they might as well be the same—there were bored-looking stallions and mares who apparently needed to exchange hellos with the princess. It was no wonder they were bored if this was their definition of a party, but Pinkie Pie kept it to herself.
Pinkie also kept it to herself that they were getting a lot of odd looks. She was plenty used to it by now, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had let other ponies ruin her fun. The pauses to snack and talk with Celestia were the real fun. Pinkie never knew that Silver Jet wore a toupé, or that Top Hat actually started in the ice cream business; the princess knew a lot of funny details about the bored and boring ponies, and that certainly helped.
Only, those stares mattered the teensiest bit, now. Pinkie Pie glanced over her shoulder while Celestia shook hooves with some stallion or other, and sure enough, a unicorn stallion and mare couple were giving her a severe look that suggested maybe she’d done something wrong. It made Pinkie worry for the two seconds it took her to look back up at Celestia. The princess would have noticed. She noticed almost everything, and she didn’t seem to care.
Besides, there were far more important things to do. Pinkie Pie bit her tongue and turned on the spot, reaching out to solve a mystery that had been on her mind for far too long. Slowly her hoof quested towards its target until finally it found its mark. When she poked, she found it firm and only barely squishy, but otherwise entirely unremarkable.
“Pinkie Pie? Are you touching my flank?”
Celestia’s question was fair and all. Pinkie Pie’s hoof was, in fact, planted squarely on the princess’ cutie mark. Since that was obvious, barring any major philosophical angles, it was safe to assume that the princess wondered about the why of it.
“Oh. Sure! I mean, I am,” Pinkie said, yanking her hoof back. The stallion Celestia had been talking to made a small noise and excused himself looking particularly sour for some reason.
“See, I was talking to Rainbow Dash, and she told me that she bet your flank was really hot to the touch because it’s a sun, and I told her I bet she was wrong, because my cutie mark doesn’t taste like balloons—I checked!”
Celestia pursed her lips and said nothing, and Pinkie Pie wondered for a moment if she’d actually be angry with her. Pinkie pinned her ears back to her head and sighed.
“I don’t think she really thought so, it was probably just a prank. Applejack doesn’t taste like apples either.”
“And most would find that rather offensive or forward.” Celestia glanced back at her own side.
Pinkie Pie lowered her head and nodded, having rather little to say to that except a muttered “sorry.”
“Am I boring you?”
Pinkie Pie shook her head so fast half her curls straightened for a second. “Nuh-uh! It’s just a little silly with all this ‘hi, how are you, good bye.’ We’re not actually talking to any of these ponies. I bet they’re nice and all—”
“We may get our chance yet, a moment, please,” Celestia replied. She flashed Pinkie a brief grin that didn’t stick, turning to face a mare on the approach. Most of the others they had talked to patiently waited for the princess to come talk to them, but this pony gracefully wound her way between the tables and crowds. “Hello, Lady Glittergold.”
“Your highness,” the unicorn mare replied, dipping her head half a smidgemeter. The bright yellow pony wore even more shiny jewelry pieces than Celestia, and somehow, she managed to look down while meeting Celestia’s eyes. “It is good to see you here tonight.”
“You as well,” Celestia replied, offering a smile that was left unreciprocated. “And congratulations on opening the Starlit Dome.”
Lady Glittergold gave the barest of nods. Pinkie Pie sidled up to stand side by side with Celestia, leaning a little closer to get a good look at the shiny new pony, but the unicorn pulled back to match.
“Ah yes, thank you, thank you,” Glittergold muttered, clearing her throat. “We have been wondering about this pony who has been causing so much ruckus.”
“Fracas! I’m a specialist on those,” Pinkie Pie said, smiling brightly at the mare. Most of the other ponies they had talked to pretended Pinkie Pie didn’t exist, even those times Celestia made a point of introducing her by name. “I’m Pinkie Pie.”
Glittergold made no reply. Despite her apparent interest, her eyes were on Celestia. The princess’ reply began with a shrug.
“I believe she did just offer up her name. She is Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie, this is Lady Glittergold.”
“Hi again!” Pinkie said to absolutely no effect. Glittergold spared her the tiniest of glances, but nothing more, as if she feared looking at Pinkie Pie for extended periods of time. The constant hum of conversation lessened all around them, whispers now only half as loud as the sound of dozens of ears being bent their way.
“Quite. Is this a new protegé of yours? Or are you simply humoring her?”
Pinkie leaned in front of Celestia, trying to achieve eye contact with the silly pony. “Nope-dopey. I’m her date. It’s our first date, actually! This place must have been a real doozy to build. I bet you had to use lots of magic!”
Glittergold guffawed. She looked a little bit less bored than the other ponies with her eyes wide open. “Surely you're joking. Are you unwell? What could this pony possibly have done to deserve the right to court you?”
Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to reply, but there was really no point in trying to talk to a pony who wasn’t talking to her. She seemed nice enough, but Pinkie’d had more giving conversations with her measuring cups in the kitchen. That, and there was a rather pronounced lack of noise from the third pony in the conversation. Sometimes, silence was very loud.
Celestia had said nothing for a while now, and when Pinkie looked up at the taller princess, she saw that the ever-present easy smile—the bare minimum of smileyness that Celestia always returned to when she didn’t even feel like smiling—had failed. Her mouth was worked into a thin line and her jaw was taut.
“I am afraid I do not see the humor,” Celestia said.
Perhaps Lady Glittergold sensed the subtle wrongness. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a goldfish, but nothing came out. There was no anger in Celestia’s tone, but the princess did not so much as blink. She held the unicorn’s eyes until Glittergold gave a small bow and walked away, and it all left Pinkie Pie wondering if perhaps she herself had said something wrong.
Celestia made a motion for her to follow and led the way towards one of the many main floor exits, and suddenly the entire party hall was a different place. Where Lady Glittergold rejoined the crowd, a murmur started that spread like wildfire, a chaotic mess of whispers louder than the earlier conversations had ever been.
After what felt like an eternity of a blank-faced Celestia leading them across the floor with innumerable ponies scurrying out of the way as fast as expensive crystal glasses and fancy hats let them, the princess led them out through a set of narrow, open doors. A wide balcony with glass floor and silver railings hugged the dome, a construction barely the height of the garden maze and bushes below. There was nopony else in sight, perhaps due to the slight chill of the night, and only when she closed the door behind them did Celestia let go of that horrid un-smile. Instead, Celestia leaned against the railing, chewing her cheek. Pinkie had never before seen Celestia chew her cheek.
“This really isn’t like any party I’ve ever been to,” Pinkie said. She trotted up to put her forelegs on the railing, peering over the edge. Past the garden’s confines, she could see and hear Canterlot at night. The tangled sounds of wagon wheels and voices wasn’t all that different from Ponyville, and Pinkie was glad. It blocked out the faint susurrus from inside the dome.
“I can only hope you will forgive me. This was a terrible idea.”
“The date?” Pinkie asked, resting her head on her forelegs. If not for the fact that Celestia asking for forgiveness made no sense, she might have worried, but the princess looked downright pained.
“No. My decision-making every step of the way. I wanted to see how you acted outside your comfort zone, or indeed, if such a thing was possible. If you are ever truly outside of your comfort zone. I apologize if this was duplicitous, and it certainly took a sour turn just now.”
“What, you mean Lady Glittergold? Why?” Pinkie asked.
Celestia frowned, turning to face Pinkie in full. “I like to think I know you well enough by now to say you did not miss her implications. You know she outright insulted you.”
“Sure, but I wasn’t hurt.” Pinkie giggled and reached out to poke one of Celestia’s forelegs. “What she said was super nice for you in a creepy big sister who doesn't really know you kind of way, and that makes me happy! Well, mostly. I just hope you don’t get lots of angry letters and ponies knocking on your door to tell you they don’t like you any more.”
Celestia chuckled. “Are you worrying about the social ramifications? I think you worry more than I, and besides, the very moment this rumor reaches either Fancypants or the palace staff, it will turn around. Fancypants knows you and adores you, and he wields a lot of clout. That is not my concern.”
“You sound super concerned, though.” Pinkie reluctantly let her hoof slide off of Celestia’s leg. There were limits to how long she could leave it there, even if Celestia didn’t say anything.
“I am frustrated and annoyed because I played a game, and I failed to control it. I have enough contacts and friends in high Canterlot society, and I certainly do not need another. There was no purpose to this except to sate my own curiosity and my need to observe tradition. That you have not run off or perished from sheer boredom already is very flattering, but I still erred.”
Celestia gave a long sigh and cupped Pinkie’s muzzle with a hoof, raising it up to make Pinkie Pie look back at her. “Understand that I only did this because you interest me in many ways. I do not know how else to put it or how to explain how special this makes you.”
Pinkie Pie nuzzled into the hoof and smiled. It really was quite simple. “S’okay. I understand.”
And still the princess looked no less frustrated. Pinkie pursed her lips and crossed her forelegs. “Will it be okay if I say I forgive you, and that it’s okay, especially if we can hang out at my couch next time? And it’s super okay if there will be a next time, because I’m having fun ‘cause you’re here.”
Finally Celestia gave up her frown and laughed, nodding her assent. “I think that is an acceptable compromise. I may just leave my regalia at the palace and have a dress made for the occasion of sitting on your couch eating pastries. I do not take my own failures lightly, but I will get over this.”
“Marshmallows,” Pinkie said. “We’re having marshmallows.”
“Marshmallows, then.”
An if had become a when. An unspoken maybe had become a yes. Pinkie wasn’t usually one for silence, but it seemed as good a time as any to be happy and quiet for a second, just like the sharp intake of breath after opening a particularly amazing present. Rather than jump or scream or cheer, she put all her happiness into a smile while she turned her eyes skywards.
Pinkie had seen her share of stars. Part of it was because she tried to stay awake for as long as she could to best have as much fun as possible, and another part of it was that moon cookies could only really be baked at night, offering her plenty time to sit watching the night sky while they baked. Tonight was different. The sky was alive with a million glittering points, each clearly distinguishable from the others, the moon almost forgettable in a sea of tiny suns.
“Gosh, the stars are super bright tonight—ooh, I think I saw a shooting star! And there’s another!”
“A meteor shower. My sister did say she intended to put some extra effort into tonight on account of the occasion. I will have to thank her.” Celestia snuck an inch closer to Pinkie Pie and reached out with a wing to cover her back. It was the warmest, fluffiest blanket Pinkie had ever had, so she didn’t bother admitting she wasn’t really that cold on account of her dress.
“That’s really nice of her. So she likes me?” Pinkie asked.
Celestia laughed. “You doubt it? You have met her many times before, and she is still grateful for your part in helping her readjust last nightmare night. She loves you all.” The princess rolled her jaw and tore her eyes off the glittering stars in the sky, and Pinkie was all too happy to look back into those two pretty purple stars instead.
“It is what you do, is it not?” Celestia asked. “You win the hearts of everypony, somehow. Yet still they would wonder. What gives you the right, as if it needed justification. Does it?”
“Yep. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Pinkie said. “Wait, you mean what Lady Shinyface said?”
Celestia’s acquiescence came in the form of a nod and another pensive silence. The princess said nothing until she’d sat down, and Pinkie didn’t bother to interrupt her for fear that her precious wing-blanket would go away. Celestia scarcely seemed to even remember Pinkie was there, her eyes fastened on the horizon where it was indivisible from the night sky if not for the stars. A comfortable silence gave way to a regular brand boring silence, which in turn became a slightly scary one. It was very hard not to think she might suddenly know what it was Celestia meant after all.
“Does it matter?” Pinkie asked, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Or, um, can the answer suddenly be ‘nope, no princess for Pinkie Pie?’”
Celestia jerked to, just the tiniest bit. She abruptly shifted where she sat, as if somepony had jabbed her in the ribs or suddenly reminded her that her cookies were getting burnt. The princess pony stared down at Pinkie with mouth half open and eyes wide, and while she was quick to school her features again, her voice shook just the tiniest bit.
“No! No, I—well. I am terrible at this. I did not mean to give you cause for concern,” she said, sighing so deeply, her wing pulled Pinkie a little closer. “That is not what I am saying, nor was that my point. Please believe that.”
Pinkie shrugged and leaned against Celestia in full, smiling when the princess didn’t protest. She angled her muzzle along Celestia’s body, peering up at her. “Believing! Why’re you being all mopey then?”
“I am not.” Celestia gave a noiseless chuckle that Pinkie felt but did not hear. “I simply wonder what roads brought us here. It is not respect or a lack thereof. I thought so, once, but it is not the case. You do not treat me any differently from others, but that alone does not explain it. You treat me like a pony, not like a princess, for which I am grateful. Gratefulness does not a relationship make, but it helps.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “I treat you pretty differently from how I treat Applejack and Twilight and everypony else. Sure, I poke and hug and boop noses, but we’re just friends, you know.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Not quite my point, but I am glad to hear that. I do not think I am ready for competition.”
Pinkie shrugged and closed her eyes, content to lay snug and warm like this.
“And you make me think,” Celestia said.
“Silly, you’re super smart, I bet you think all the time!”
“Not about the right things, I find. I mean our earlier conversation about being a princess. I stand by what I said: being a princess is part of who I am, of who I need to be, but you make me wonder if it is that simple. All my subjects make me wish to be the best I can be, because I want what is best for all of Equestria. You?” Celestia paused, only continuing when Pinkie opened her eyes and looked back up at her.
“You make me wish to smile, too. You make me wonder if I cannot be both who I need to be, and who I want to be. If I cannot be a princess, Princess Celestia, and Celestia all at once. That alone is reason enough twice over, but it lacks one final thing to make the full truth.”
Pinkie tilted her head, taking care not to enjoy too much the fact that it rubbed her head against the soft coat of Celestia’s side. “What’s that?”
“Because you dared.”
Pinkie’s cheeks glowed the tiniest bit. At least, she assumed they did. One of the many advantages of her coloration was that other ponies could never tell, but she felt a little warm from what had unmistakably been a lot of very nice words about her. There was only one natural answer and counter-question.
“Does that mean I can ask if you maybe want to hug now? I know you asked when we were on that ride in Wandering Wonderland and everything, but I’ve been dying to ask for a real hug that is an actual I-think-you’re-kinda-cute hug and not a we’re-friends-let’s-make-it-better hug.”
“All things considered, I think that would be a nice conclusion to this date,” Celestia said, a small sigh escaping her lips. “But it strikes me as a crime that you should have to be the one to always ask. That you should doubt I would want a hug.” She released the wing that had been covering Pinkie Pie, unfurling it in full to shield them from whomever might be looking out from inside the dome that Pinkie had quite frankly almost forgotten about.
Celestia lowered her head and reached out with the other wingtip to raise Pinkie’s muzzle up until their snouts touched. Those beautiful purple eyes were different now, cut off from much of the light. They still sparkled, but when Celestia leaned in close, she was both the same and a different creature entirely. Her voice was low and the faint rumble made Pinkie’s heart tingle. Celestia’s breath smelled of pears.
“I am rusty,” she said, leaning to touch their foreheads together. “I am a creature of old habits and customs, and for all my words, I sometimes find myself struggling to find the right ones when it comes to you. This I know regardless: I would kiss you now.”
Perhaps she had known. Perhaps she hadn’t. Now that Pinkie knew she knew, it was the simplest thing in the world to tilt her head and part her muzzle to kiss a princess. For a tiny moment, the world was mint, watermelon, pear cider and chocolate cake. Celestia’s lips touched hers for what would never be long enough, an event cursed to always be an electric instant.
Pinkie opened her eyes when Celestia drew back. She was keenly aware of her own breath coming almost painfully fast. It was as good a time as any to go for the hug as well. She wrapped her forelegs around Celestia’s body and held her tight to stop her body from shivering, and the cold had nothing to do with it. Celestia’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths as well.
“Maybe I was a tiny bit nervous,” Pinkie said. Celestia had said nothing, but the kiss drew the words forth. “A teensy bit. Maybe possibly sort of. I just didn’t want to say it. Or think it. Or feel it.” Another shiver, stronger this time. Pinkie sniffled, and she didn’t know why. The world was a wonderfully soft and fluffy place, twice as much when Celestia draped both wings around her to hold her tighter.
“If you have concerns, speak them so that I may help,” Celestia said, nuzzling the top of her head.
“I don’t know!” A giggle escaped Pinkie’s lips, a wholly inappropriate sound, but there it was. “I just kept worrying I’d said something wrong all the time, but then you said you wanted me to be Pinkie Pie, and suddenly that was the hardest thing in the world.”
Celestia craned her neck to look upon Pinkie Pie. There was no trace of humor in her voice. “If and when you say something ‘wrong,’ trust me to let you know. I know I can trust you to listen, just like how I will never take your concerns lightly, either.”
Pinkie nodded and sighed a happy little sigh, burying her snout in Celestia’s mane. The ethereal, colorful hair felt a lot like anypony elses’ mane, only softer. Possibly a little princessy-er, too.
“Maybe, but words are really hard. Sometimes you can say the wrong thing and think it’s the right thing to say, and sometimes, you can say the right thing and think it’s the wrong thing, and worst of all, sometimes saying nothing at all or anything at all is wrong, too!” Pinkie pouted and rubbed her muzzle against the side of Celestia’s neck. “And sometimes things that’re supposed to always be nice and polite are completely wrong. Like goodbye. I had a really nice time tonight, but I hate it when you say goodbye.”
Celestia chuckled and eased her wing-grip on Pinkie a little. “Well, I have not said it quite yet, and the night is still young. If you truly bear me no ill will after this little misstep, I know of one place that is still open at this time.”
“The problem with this one is that it pretends to be based on a true story when it is in fact pure fantasy.” Celestia gave a derisive snort. “If you have created a work entirely of your own mind’s design, why not celebrate it rather than present a lie any filly with a library card can disprove?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged and grabbed another hoof-ful of popcorn, leaning back in her seat. One of the many benefits of renting an entire movie theater was that nopony yelled at you when you talked a lot. Rows upon rows of seats stood empty with the exception of one familiar unicorn far in the back. Acacia had insisted on joining them, and Pinkie wouldn’t have minded half as much if she didn’t sit there watching her like a hawk on no-smooch patrol. Perhaps she just didn’t like The Return of Krastos as much as she’d hoped?
Celestia hovered up another helping of popcorn, pausing to flick an errant kernel off of Pinkie’s dress. “Besides, if they wish to make something authentic, there is no shortage of real horrors to choose from. The Krastos series has become increasingly dull since Krastos Strikes Back.”
“You’ve watched Krastos Strikes Back?”
“I have a sister.” Celestia shrugged. “There are limits to how many hours siblings can spend bonding over staring off into the horizon while talking about eternity. She suggested weekly movie nights in the palace theater.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Aw, but still, that one was great! The part where Supermare swooped down to save all those ponies from the glue pit was amazing!”
Celestia frowned and indicated the screen ahead of them. “Precisely, and here we have Batmare doing practically the exact same thing! It has worn thin. It may be too early to make movies about Queen Chrysalis or King Sombra, but what about the Smooze? If ponies visited the history section of library they would find no shortage of real villains.”
“Ooh, I think he’s gonna get it this time. Batmare’s gonna get Krastos!” Pinkie sat up, spilling her popcorn all over the floor, but the princess looked rather more skeptical. Half a minute later, Pinkie slinked down into her seat with a fresh pout. “Aw, shoot. Maybe next time. Wait, why’re so many of the bad guys and girls queens and kings, anyway?”
“Now there is a story that could be a trilogy of movies,” Celestia muttered. “If you are truly interested, I am sure I can explain it one day, but I would need to visit the royal library to refresh my memory on parts of it.”
“Sure. Ooh. Iron Mare’s entering the fray!”
Only when the end credits rolled around did Pinkie manage to tear her eyes off the screen. Granted, the rest of her body was busily leaning against Celestia, and the princess retaliated by draping a wing around her, but she’d been mysteriously quiet again. Celestia easily did enough thinking for both of them combined.
“Didn’t you like the movie? You look like you’re about to give it a four out of ten.”
Celestia smiled, shook her head, and stretched her neck. “I am not in the habit of rating things so simply, but I enjoyed it. I was just thinking about you. We keep talking about me and mine, about all that I do and do not, but for somepony who enjoys attention so much, you certainly love giving that attention away, too.”
“Aw, that’s no biggie. Throwing a party for yourself isn’t half as fun as throwing it for others! I throw dozens of birthday parties for Gummy every year just because it’s way more fun than a ‘Pinkie wants to see her friends’ party! If they actually started counting them, they’d realize Gummy’s not really two hundred and sixty years old yet.”
Celestia laughed. “I am sure. I do not mean to sound, ah, needy, but what I mean is, I have to wonder. Why me? I am coming to learn who you are, but I do not know the answer to that one question.”
Pinkie Pie scratched her forehead, trying to wrap her brain around what was really a rather silly not-a-question. “Huh. It must be really hard.”
“I am not sure I follow.”
“You think so much about what and why and all that! I’m happiest when I just do stuff!” Pinkie rose to stand and leaned over the edge of her seat to lick up a few bits of popcorn, munching away while she spoke. “You make me really happy and warm and tingly when you’re close, and I’ve never felt like that before. You’re super nice, you’re cute, and you say lots of smart things that aren’t even a little bit boring. When you smile, I smile, and I’m still working away at that!”
The princess nodded very slowly. “It is one way to look at it.”
“And you? You keep hanging out with me and you say you like me, so I guess you like me!” Pinkie hopped off her seat to stand before Celestia, looking up at her with the biggest smile she could manage. Celestia returned it without hesitation.
“You do not even know what insecurities are, do you?”
“Sure I do!” Pinkie said. “Should I have them now?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t.”
Celestia leaned forward to touch her snout to Pinkie’s, and Pinkie couldn’t help but direct a grin towards the back where she knew the ninja attendant nanny lurked.
“Sometimes I wonder if there should be a royal philosopher position just for you,” Celestia said. “At other times, I suspect you simply talk a lot, and that it is inevitable you spout sage wisdom from time to time.”
“Potato, tomato,” Pinkie giggled. “Wanna go grab a donut before I head home? We’re still going out again, right?”
“I demand it,” Celestia said. Her smile widened into a broad grin even as she spoke, drawing herself up to her full height. “In fact, as a princess, I decree it.”
Celestia awoke tired for the first time in as long as she could remember. No matter how much work she did, she never truly tired. She could wrestle with forms and laws and fill her day with enough meetings and intrigue to make lunch and dinner impossible, yet still feel rested in the morning. Today, in part due to entirely too many donuts too late in the night, she awoke tired and sluggish, and she found she did not mind paying the price. Rather, she wouldn’t so long as her belly returned to its natural shape soon.
When was the last time she’d has such a challenging day? Devising a plan to solve a political crisis didn’t take actual effort, and even the most convoluted matters of law and policy were made foal’s play thanks to precedent and logic. Digesting the events and words of yesterday, that was a titanic task. She nearly forgot her crown when she slipped out of bed—an ancient habit toppled by memories of yesterday. Memories of a pink mare who dared to ask questions. Of her words, her thoughts, and of the way she felt warm against Celestia’s body when they hugged each other close.
Celestia reached for her magic. With a simple flex of her magic, she intended to bring day to the land. An unfathomable feat of magic that had been on time down to the second for a thousand years.
Precision by duty and habit. She paused and let the glow fade in the darkness of her room. A second later she was on her way out of her chambers.
Celestia’s own hoofsteps were her only company in the pre-dawn palace halls. A fast walk gave way to an unseemly trot that would elicit comment were anypony around to see. Only when she entered the eastern balconies did she realize she had forgotten her shoes, but it seemed tremendously unimportant; she didn’t stop until she stood at the edge of the largest balcony offered by the palace, and this time she looked down, not up. Down to the city below.
Raising the sun was her duty, but what terrible mentor, teacher and friend she must be if she forgot how much stronger every action was when empowered by desire. By joy. By happiness received by happiness brought.
As she willed it, the sun rose, but she did not stop at performing the simplest of her duties. Her duty was to make the sun crest the horizon, and that was simple. Today, it was insufficient. She poured more and more of herself into it the act, a flow without stop. She breathed deep and stretched her neck to its fullest, straining with the energies flowing from her. She could feel a warmth by her side, and she instantly knew Luna had joined her on the balcony. Celestia added her love for her sister to the labor. Her heart swelled and brightened, but she was not nearly done.
She hadn’t been alone on the balcony when she stepped out into the chill of the pre-dawn. She was connected to all of Equestria, and she was in the minds of ponies she dared and loved to call friends or family. She was in the mind of a pony she called and let her call her something different entirely. She was remembering far more than she had forgotten. Celestia called upon Twilight and all her friends, their friends, and made them part of her sunrise. She called upon a very special pink mare who she could not wait to see again to plan an evening full of marshmallows and who knew what else.
Celestia heaved with breath, finally spent. She did not need to know the fruits of her work, but a smile bubbled forth that would not be denied. She leaned against her sister and felt a wing drape over her back.
Sharp yet soft. Whatever the source of the light that insistently prodded and poked Pinkie Pie until she was forced out of her dreams and back to her windowsill, it was sharp enough to wake her. Sharp, yet so soft and warm she did not protest even in the seconds it took her to remember where she was. When she did remember, the jolt nearly sent her careening out the window in a panic. She’d nearly missed it.
Pinkie had never meant to go to sleep. Never mind the energy from three dozen triple-glazed donuts. Never mind the fact that her dress was so matted and stained by said glaze and many other delicious things that she probably needed a bath before she could undress. Almost never mind the fact that the sooner she went to bed, the sooner next Saturday would roll around with all its second date-y goodness. A chill went down her spine when she realized she could have missed it.
She could have missed it, but she didn’t. Pinkie Pie rubbed her bleary eyes and rested her head on her hooves as she stared out her bedroom window.
The orange came first. A blotch of vivid orange bloomed far in the distance, heralding the coming of the dawn. In its wake, following the orb that tentatively poked past the horizon, pinks flared to life. A hundred hundred shades of pink and red lit up the sky, and the orange split into yellows bright and muted. The few clouds that hung over Ponyville filtered the multicolored light, and when Pinkie blinked again, it seemed that the very blue of the sky glowed in response, laced with brilliant icy white.
It was the single most beautiful thing Pinkie had ever seen. She’d watched Celestia truly smile with all she had. The fear that was not a fear made itself known under the light of dawn. All the while she had told herself she did this for a single smile, but now she knew she couldn’t possibly settle for one.
