It's Always The Fall

by Enigmatic Insanity

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad
Length: 1183

It's never the impact that hurts the most; it's always the fall, when you have time to reflect on everything that could have prevented this. When cleaning out Enigma's sickroom, Celestia happens upon a series of unsent letters mostly d

Celestia had to dig through Enigma's effects – anything of importance would be stored away, kept for memory's sake. Unfortunately, the thing she finds is the last thing she would have wanted to see. It's a series of letters, unsent, with most directed to her from Enigmatic Insanity. They span the hundreds of years they knew each other, and the forty-something years when it was a one-sided relationship on Enigma's part. Celestia chooses to read them, but could never have believed their contents.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-27 01:07:30 UTC

Dearest Macintosh,

Celestia slowly shut the door behind her. The room was as chaotic as it was when Enigma was rushed out of here. A thin layer of dust covered the messy room. Celestia was surprised the unicorn could even navigate in here, what with that leg of hers. She had tried her best to repair the damage, but, unbeknownst to the Sun princess, the disease had taken hold of the unicorn's bone. There was no recovering that leg.

Celestia sat down on the bed, sighing deeply. So many 'what-ifs' clouded this room. She wrapped her hooves around the pillow and breathed it in deeply, pretending to herself that she could still smell Enigma's rose shampoo. Reality took hold, however, and eventually, she had to admit that it smelt only of clean linen, not of the sickened queen that would draw her last breath on it.

She wasn't sure where to start. What to keep of all this junk, and what to be rid of. It seemed an impossible task. Celestia got up and tripped slightly over a bronze peacock directly in the path she had cleared. She chuckled and mentally added the statue to her keep list. Clothes seemed to be the best start to take with this room -- no pony was that skinny unless they, too, were terminally ill. All of them could be incinerated.

Celestia gathered them up into a bag and turned back around when the pile she was lifting let out an unusual 'thump'. A shoebox, distended at its sides, sat on the floor. It had, apparently, been buried in the clothing pile and had escaped when she lifted the mass. She set aside the clothes for a moment and opened the box. Inside, she found a pile of letters, some stuffed against the sides of the box so they would fit.

Forgetting her original task, she took a letter off the top and broke the seal, intent on reading its contents.

The scroll read,

Dearest MacIntosh,

How is the family doing? I hear that you have a grandson now. Of course you'd name him for yourself, you self-absorbed bastard. I'm still shocked that they'd leave children in your company.

The letter abruptly ended, punctuated by long-dried teardrops. MacIntosh? Where had she heard that name before? Celestia wasn't quite sure, so she continued onto the next letter in the pile.

Dearest MacIntosh,

I miss you, you know. I want to come home. Forgive me, please. I beg of you. Forget what I said in my last letter; I meant none of the things I said. I was angry -- I wanted you to feel like I did. Just, please. Please, let me come home ...

More tear stains and a few cuts through the bottom of the page ended this letter. Celestia leaned against the bedpost, just staring at the box and the letter she held. What had she just uncovered? She had her suspicions that Enigma kept a journal of some sort, but this was not at all what she thought she would find.

She climbed back onto the bed and made herself comfortable. She dug through the box, setting aside the rants and pleads directed at one MacIntosh. Deeply buried under the MacIntosh letters was a small package tied to a letter. Her hooves shook as she read the opening line.

Dear Princess Celestia,

She set the letter back down, her sight blurring. A letter, for her? Was this package also for her?  Wiping away her tears, she opened the small package. Inside was a white fire opal set in a thin golden choker. The opal sparkled in the light like freshly fallen snow, but its colors brought to mind the dawn. Her dawn. Together, it gave the impression of a winter's morning.

She put it on, not surprised it fit like a glove, and continued reading the letter.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Consider this a token of my gratitude and an offer of my loyalty. I would like to come to Canterlot. It is so cold here. I don't even need to be here anymore. Iron Ire is such a sweetie. He takes care of everything for me; all I have to do is sign things and continue breathing.

I wish all ponies could be this kind to me ...

Celestia re-read the letter to make sure that she was reading it correctly. Enigma had handed power to a tyrant?! Was there really something else behind the unicorn's constant headaches? Obviously, the constant head trauma couldn't be good for an aging mind but could it impair judgement that much? Or was it the sickness? Both? Celestia couldn't be sure. She would need to research the topic more.

She just hoped that she'd be able to keep suspicion from the box.

It's Now or Never

Celestia wanted to get started on the research right away, but nopony was awake at this hour and she didn't want to disturb anypony. She settled down in her favorite chair and opened the box again, removing a sheet of paper at random. This wasn't a letter. It wasn't even a note. It was a reminder.

"Your name is Enigmatic Insanity. You live in Canterlot, with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Your box is under the pile of clothing beside the bed, --" The sheet continued listing other details for that day, obviously written the day before. It closed with, "-- and the milk is expired. Don't try drinking it. Live to love, even if you forget the moment after. Yours, Princess Twilight Sparkle".

Twilight had written up this agenda? It dawned on Celestia how much she had missed by simply not paying enough attention. Enigma had gotten trapped in the present by her sickness, and she had done nothing to help. What else hadn't she saw? What else could have been helped, or heavens, even prevented if she had looked at the fine details instead of the big picture?

World-destroying tyrants? Those, she would always notice. Her friend slowly losing herself to a void in her memories? That was like a grain of sand on a beach. She couldn't be expected to see everything! She had bigger issues to deal with!

Even though her words remained unspoken, their deceit was audible. There were no big issues to lose herself in. Discord was reformed, as was Nightmare Moon. The changelings had been repelled. The elements of harmony, restored. She hadn't a thing to think about.

Was she really that conceited?

She returned the schedule to its box and draped herself across the chair, content to mope with unshed tears in her eyes. If she hadn't noticed this, what else had slipped through? Her sister's jealousy?! Could she have prevented Nightmare Moon entirely if she had just paid her sister some much needed attention?!

Celestia got up, kicking the chair over in her haste. Yelling incoherently, she swept her hooves over a display, smashing several priceless relics to pieces. Her fit continued in this fashion for a long while. Eventually, she collapsed to the floor, exhausted, and cried herself to sleep.