Celestia bit down hard on the stale cork, ripping it off of the bottle with all the force she could muster. For only a moment, golden light enveloped the room as she levitated the champagne bottle to her glass and poured. She watched as the hot orange liquid rushed downwards, violently thrashing about as it filled up its container.
Eventually the liquid settled, allowing Celestia a chance to admire her drink. The fire-colored liquid gleamed in the soft light of the rising sun, quietly bubbling as if to politely announce its presence to someone who had been sleeping; however, the smell of it alone could wake anyone up quickly. It was a powerful, burning aroma that forced itself into the nostrils of everyone around it. It smelled like someone had taken a match to an orange, which was something that cannot not be ignored.
So the sound it made was pointless then? It served no visible purpose, but is that enough to say it doesn’t deserve to make a sound at all? How vain, Celestia thought, to live in a world where if something does not gratify others it should not exist at all. It was a disappointing reality to consider; though, the thought alone brought up another possibility: if the sound of champagne serves no purpose and therefore should not exist, then does it create purpose by challenging the status quo? If that were true, would that purpose then cancel out its status as an action that serves nothing and once again be meaningless entirely? Amongst this paradox there was one answer Celestia could provide given the fact that she still heard bubbling: purpose or no purpose, the champagne didn’t care. That had to be enough.
Celestia stared at the glass for another moment. Then, without prior indication, drew back her hoof and struck the glass, sending it flying across the room. It hit the opulent bedroom wall at incredible speeds, screeching as it shattered into no more than dust and spilled alcohol. It wasn’t enough.
But despite that the drink was now mixing with her carpet, Celestia still heard bubbling. Faintly. Using both hooves, Celestia brought the bottle to her muzzle and drank. She ignored the liquid rushing down her face, what mattered was the part rushing down her throat. Her eyes stung and her snout burned, her throat cried and her tongue made pleas to be saved from this hell that it was enduring like a lake of blood tinged with electricity that no one was to ever even look at should insanity grip them at any given time yet it was here, not staring into but inside this lake of retching objection to all that exists all that ever would be offended and despite its desperate begging for redemption it enjoyed it in some sick way, if only a little bit.
Ha, Celestia thought, so much for bubbles.
And right then she coughed horribly, spitting what was left of her drink in every which way around her, slamming the bottle down on her nightstand as she tried to catch her breath but couldn’t, and that was okay. If asked she would never be able to justify it but for once in her life, that was okay for now.
At least it would have been, for as soon as she submitted to herself the feeling of air shooting into her lungs filled her every nerve ending and she wondered just how in all of ten seconds had she forgotten this sensation entirely. It was rejuvenating, perfect and grand. It was flawless like a ten thousand foot marble statue of nothing but a depiction of the block it came from as if to say “Here I am, greater than you would have ever become, at your own expense.” Celestia got it though. All other ponies wouldn’t understand the significance of a statue of nothing. But she did. With that small victory in mind, Celestia relaxed a little.
“Such a shame,” Luna said as she eyed the broken glass in the corner of her sister’s room. “How old was that piece?”
Celestia raised her brow as she turned to Luna, her momentary state of content vanishing. “When and how?”
“Only a few minutes ago,” Luna stated flatly.
“I asked how.” Celestia pushed.
Luna stepped aside, revealing Celestia’s door. It was cracked open, even touching the frame, but positioned to provide privacy and make as little noise as possible. It was simple, and it was obvious. Too obvious, Celestia chided.
“I didn’t hear you.” Celestia claimed.
Luna smiled softly. “I know.”
Celestia lay on her unmade bed, mane unkempt and coat messy, looking back and forth between her sister and her bottle of champagne with beaty eyes. Her golden blanket was wrinkled, which caused her visible discomfort.
Before Celestia could make the decision of what here was more important to her, Luna levitated the bottle off of her sister’s nightstand and corked it, placing it on a dresser across the room.
“Hey,” Celestia said. “That’s mine.”
“Why so early?” Luna asked.
Celestia sighed, further dispositioning the sheets as she gracelessly jumped off of her bed. Slowly, she walked over towards the window that had been bathing her room in the same warm light that had reflected off of her drink prior. She lay down next to it, relishing in her own peacefulness as she basked.
“Sit, Luna.” She said. Luna obeyed, making her way toward her sister and sitting beside her.
“Today I did not anticipate,” Celestia began, sighing. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t welcome it all the while. Have you not noticed, Luna?”
“Noticed what?” she asked.
“How much she’s grown...” Celestia said, turning to look out of the window as she trailed off.
“Ah, I see,” Luna said, closing her eyes. “This you did not anticipate? I would have thought you foreshadowed it, if not engineered it entirely.”
“I am not omniscient,” Celestia replied in an almost toxic tone. “It was bound to happen some day, but this is fast.”
“Does that frighten you?” Luna asked.
“I prefer it,” she said. “It means that no time further be wasted here.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” Luna remarked.
“I–”
“You don’t know,” she continued.
“I don’t.” Celestia admitted.
“You’ve grown an attachment,” Luna pointed out. “A strong one.”
“I...” Celestia said, losing her words for the second time. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Celestia sunk her head into a nearby pillow, letting out another sigh. She closed her eyes as if not looking at anything would actually shut out the world around her. As if she could solve at all by just ignoring the fact and if she could, if she could do that then what was the point of being here because as it seemed to her that contradicted living in itself. If everything could be solved by a lack of expression or life at all then wasn’t the clear solution...
She couldn’t bring herself to say no.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, nor did she really even want it to be. But that didn’t stop her from entertaining the thought every now and then. Such a poetic end to things when you think about it. The rise to the top... then the fall to the ground. If it were to happen, it would be at night. Just to add to the irony, under a full moon even. From her own balcony. It would be a scene they would try to paint but never capture, try to sing but the words would not come. Celestia couldn’t explain herself, her strife was a combination of things. The routine and predictability she despised, but oh did she love that mare in a way she couldn’t stand.
“I have a beautiful photograph,” Celestia finally said.
Luna stared at her incredulously. “I’ve never seen you take photos.”
“Twilight is a kite, flying into the sky, and I’m holding the string.” Celestia said, lowering her voice as she turned to her sister. “Picture two: the string breaks.”
“But the string never broke?” Luna asked.
“It has now,” Celestia said gravely.
Luna’s ears lowered in confusion as she looked on at Celestia. “How do you mean?”
“Do you remember much of Starswirl?” Celestia asked.
“No,” Luna replied tentatively. “When he was alive I was very young. He had always been your friend, not mine.”
“Friend isn’t the word I’d use,” Celestia corrected, breathing slowly as she drew upon the ancient memories. “No, more of an interesting confidant. No less than a genius in every way, but not a friend. Starswirl the Bearded did not keep friends, he kept colleagues. That is the point, actually. It was this aspect of life that he lacked. The last form of energy is pure emotion, Luna, and without it magic cannot be complete. The only reason he was ever able to cast spells at all was because he was in tune with ambition, the raw power of will that bypasses the soul.”
“And Twilight is different?” Luna asked.
“Very,” Celestia confirmed. “Twilight has power and emotion, but lacks ambition. She understands the need for those around her, which is good. It makes her happy, which in turn makes me happy. But she lacks ambition, because she only wishes to please those around her. She doesn’t act to be the best or pursue a dream, she only wants to give her friends what they don’t have.”
“Above all, she wants to give me what I don’t have. She has existed trying to serve me since she was a filly. That has clouded her and drained all of her drive. If I were to dismiss her, she would be broken.”
“Do you intend to?” Luna asked, studying her sister carefully. “You seem quite... strained, as of late.”
“No, but it worries me. At least it did up until now,” Celestia said, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Today she has changed. Failure has turned into drive to fix her wrongs, and now with that drive, she is complete. For the past three years she has grown so much and become the icon of grace and benevolence...”
“But this is what you wanted to begin with,” Luna argued. “This is why you sent her away.”
“I know it’s what I wanted!” Celestia shouted, shattering the lone bottle of champagne as her energy shot through the room.
Luna looked at Celestia, saying nothing as she opened and closed her mouth. “Sister–”
“It’s not what I want now,” Celestia interrupted.
“Why not?” Luna asked.
“Because she’s growing up.” Because I’m going to lose her soon.
The thought echoed silently through the room, and Luna understood. “It had to happen sometime.”
“Why?” Celestia asked frantically. “Why? Because it is the nature of us to live out our use and then be discarded? Because the forces of the universe have decided that we only have so much time before everything is ripped violently from us without any say whatsoever? The best part of it all is, we never know when it’s going to happen! All that exists, Luna, I love that mare so much. I want her every single day of my life to be here with me but she can’t because that isn’t how it works, now is it?”
Luna stared at Celestia quietly for a moment. “What is she to you?”
“The closest thing I’ll ever have to a child. Only now do I understand the woes of parents who damned and cursed me because they had to see what wasn’t supposed to be seen. What was supposed to happen long afterwards.”
“What do you want?” Luna asked, but it was apparent that she already knew the answer.
“I want to die first.” Celestia said monotonously.
Luna sighed. “That isn’t going to happen, and you know it.”
“Damnit Luna!” Celestia shouted a second time, controlling her anger just enough to not break any more glass. “I just have to accept it now? That I will watch my filly, and yes that is what I’m calling her, age and die alone? Because sure enough I won’t be with her, I can’t do that. You know I can’t do that. I would break, and our country along with it.”
“There is another option,” Luna offered. “You have done it before.”
“What are y–No.” Celestia said coldly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” Luna asked.
“Consider what I’d be doing, Luna,” Celestia argued, malice ever present in her cracking voice. “If this is what it does to me, then how can I bring it on another pony? Twilight is everything to me, and I would rather her die than suffer eternally! I would rather know the pain of losing a child than realize a world where I have disgustingly ripped her from her destiny and brought her in as a twisted trinket of mine to stare at until day's end. Twilight is so much greater than my toy to play with or my photograph to look at. I cannot bring her into the world that we live Luna, she doesn’t deserve that kind of punishment for doing nothing but bringing me the only joy I have ever truly known.”
“You are missing a variable in this equation,” Luna said.
“And what would that be?” Celestia asked.
“Twilight has you, and that is all she has ever wanted.”
Celestia sat silently for an immeasurable amount of time. She stared at the ground, unmoving. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t see. She didn’t think.
She didn’t want to.
“I’m going to go clear my head,” Celestia said, ruffling her wings as she stood up shakily.
“Leave,” Luna said, smiling softly. “I know you’ve got some work to do.”
In a flash of light, Celestia vanished.
