Fields of Grass

by Vi

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1142

A ceremony takes place in the heart of a young country.

A ceremony takes place in the heart of a newborn country.

This story finished 8th in the Illusion of Choice Writeoff.

Published 2015-11-21 03:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-21 03:00:01 UTC

Fields of Grass

“It’s just like being married right? And you’ve been married before.”

The words, my words, met no reply; they became lost and echoed in the ornate scenes and gold-leaf portraits painted onto the ceiling. The only pony to hear them in this room sat directly across from me. Though she was by no means a petite mare, she seemed to be drowning in the fabric of her ceremonial dress. The dress made five good harvest seasons of pay look like a hoof-full of bits. A foal’s hoof-full.

“It’s not so terrible.”

Her hooves shoved fruitlessly at the rising garment again, and she practiced her smile. The smooth curling of her lips looked only like a lie. The lines beside her eyes that crinkled and ran deep like a dry autumn’s field when she laughed had been brushed purposefully away.

There was only one line the mare would utter in this play. Though she had never once acted, or stood upon a stage, this unnaturally gorgeous, unrecognizable mare had a breath’s worth of words to speak into the world, and those words would drift into a field of equally unrecognizable faces, and the curtain would begin to fall, and the audience would cheer, and she hoped that those standing in the front row wouldn’t see her legs trembling like a newborn just learning to stand.

But really, that is what she was. That is what I was, right now.

The door opened, and a stallion entered, covered head to hoof in the armor of the Unicorn Guard.

“Miss?”

I nodded, stood, and pausing once to adjust the infuriating dress, walked through the door and into the long corridor. The guard closed the door behind us, and we trotted together towards the grand amphitheater. Our hoof-steps clacked against the marble floor in synch, the only sound in our otherwise silent journey through the new castle.

One line. Just one line for tonight’s performance.

A magically-amplified voice faded in and out of my hearing, giving some sort of speech for the ceremony outside. Unity. Together. Eternity. I picked out a few of the words. But how large the gathered crowd had to be, to create so much noise in response! The collective cheer chattered the glass windows, vibrated along the stone and up my legs. My body responded with a shiver of its own.

I knew the reason why I was here today. I knew, and it made sense, and yet at the same time, I was walking through a dream that wasn’t my own. It was a good dream, a wonderful dream, maybe the best dream anypony had ever dreamed before. But it wasn’t my dream, it wasn’t the dream I wanted to live, and I wasn’t sure if it was a dream I could sacrifice the rest of my life for.

The thumping of wood replaced the clacking of stone and I became very aware that I was on the stage. The curtain was before me, rippling lightly in the breeze, the final barrier between a destiny given and a life I would never live again.

I stole a glance to my left. It was surprising to see that the pegasus standing a few steps away was a mare. I would have figured it to be a stallion, all things considered. The mare stared fiercely into the curtain, with an upwards tilt of her jaw, the lithe muscles in her wings straining against a very similar dress to my own. We were the chosen two. This unknown pony would soon be my partner, from now until however long I would live.

A word was spoken from the side, and I looked down, watching the light slowly climb my legs. The curtain was rising.

The audience emerged. Raucous, and wildly jubilant. They swayed like heads of wheat in a storm, cheering for the two whose names had echoed through their minds, made synonymous with harmony and peace. They were putting all of their faith into the mares who belonged to these names; to end the fighting, to end the hunger, to end the sorrow that trapped us so tightly together for untold centuries.

The pegasus stepped proudly onto the stage, and I hastened to follow, nearly stumbling on my awful dress. I knew enough to try and match my own steps with hers, and so together we marched. Her eyes remained fixed to a point in the distance while my own wandered.

The unicorn speaker stood waiting in the center of the stage, turned halfway to watch our approach. I had first seen him weeks ago, when his caravan rounded the hill outside the village. I remembered how odd it was to find a unicorn, (and so obviously a noble unicorn at that) who seemed comfortable enough to forgo his carriage and his class to walk alongside the hitched earth pony laborers in the dry heat of summer.

His horn shone bright, and his voice was carried to the audience once more. He looked again to the two of us, and smiled. I enjoyed his smile. His was somewhat hidden right above a well-trimmed beard just beginning to shift into light shades of age. The smile came naturally, and paired well with his eyes. If eyes could make one feel emotion, then these eyes were the sensation of warm laughter shared with a good friend. A sliver of anxiety slipped from my shoulders as I managed to return a small smile of my own. He flicked his neck slightly in a gesture meaning stand to either of my sides.

We parted, the pegasus and I, and stood with the unicorn before the assemblage of ponies. The sheer number of them stunned me. They filled every corner of my vision. All of them, here to witness the beginning of their own histories. They would tell their children of this moment, who in turn would tell their children, and so on, and so on, for ages.

The mere idea of becoming a piece of such a story sent a chill down my spine. This, I realized, was my rebirth. The start of an entirely new life. I was not wise enough to know what would lie before me, but I knew that right now, I would be strong enough to meet every challenge that dare present itself. That will be my calling, forever. I would live solely for them. Those standing in the front row will not ever see my legs tremble.

I looked out beyond the stage, past the gathered mass. I thought of home. I thought of fields in the summer. Singing cicadas. Rust and sweat. Rain and dry earth. Fields of grass, swaying towards the warm and guiding sun. Calm.

He turned to me.

“What name have you chosen, child?”

“I take the name Celestia, Bearer of the Day.”