Potentially-Pretentious
"Go to, Dear Sister, go to!"
Celestia's forceful, love-laden words still echoed in her mind as she glided swiftly through the cool night air, the tranquil winds ruffling her feathers and turning her ethereal mane and tail into shifting trails of midnight smoke.
The moon, full, golden and bright, sat low in the sky, casting its gentle glow across the dark land before her. The odd bird or bat flew across every now and again, little more than a winged shadow. Once, manticores and dragons had flown with them, but a lot had changed in a thousand years: the dragons had flown to a new home beyond the mountains, and the manticores had been forced into Everfree by the expanding pony settlements, where their huge wings had become a hindrance- when a beast was considered 'old' at the age of ten years, then a millennium had probably been more than enough for evolution to all-but strip them of the flight.
The Everfree had crept backwards a long way, it seemed. Where one a wild, dense ocean of muted green had ensnared all, bar the scant speckling of hamlets, cleared farmlands, and her own castle. Now, vast swathes of meadow and grassland covered the land, lined by paths and streams, and the thick, dark line of the twisting railway.
How far her ponies had come whilst she had slipped into ever-darker dreams in her lunar prison. Time had whipped by, and ponykind had claimed Equestria from the ruthless gloom of Discord's own forest
'Go to.' Her sister had said, without a thought for the incredible growth and change of the world around them. 'Go to, and satisfy your heart's yearning.' One mare of a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand.
She glanced back. Canterlot had become little more than a faintly-glowing scatter of amber lights, like so many fireflies set in stone upon the towering mountainside. The faintest outline of the ornate spires and rich towers was still visible.
She smiled. Canterlot: the grandest throne of all. The vision of a palace in the sky, where the whole of Equestria would lay before them like a map, and every pony in the land could look upon them, no matter where the journeyed or toiled. It had been little more than a hasty sketch between noble companies after a banquet in the Old Castle, but Celestia had seen it through, it seemed. She had fed the forest the last remnant of that fateful, terrible night, and from it had plucked the finest city ever conceived and placed it upon the tallest perch in all the land. Had Celestia swept away her last memory of the sister she had once known, and once banished? Or had she simply done as her eternal phoenix had, and risen with burning radiance and grandeur from the cold, dark ashes? Maybe she would never know, but what issue of hers were Celestia's mourning actions, whilst she herself had sat in a motionless melancholy? She would never visit the Old Castle, so what right did she have to trouble the loving ruler over its disappearance from the maps and minds of all?
'Go to' That stalwart princess had said, 'Go to!' Onwards to Ponyville from the luxury of her Canterlot palace. And like a hawk or guard, she had heeded the call, giving wing to the air on order. The rural town was drawing near.
Had Luna herself not named their Castle-town Ponyville? The refuge under their watchful eyes in the depths of the untamed forest; sanctuary for all ponies who dared seek them out. And had, then, Celestia named this new settlement in mournful spite? A sanctuary under the only watchful eye? But no, dear Celestia was non-such petty creature. Perhaps she named it in tribute: once, and with hope, once more, under the care of the duty-bound twin guardians of the land.
But dear 'Tia would surely have been far too busy to name a mere town. So perhaps it was simply one in the same name, and had drifted from the depths of the forest to the newly-cleared plains, and thus, a testament to their care that it had survived and grown so well; Or even a tribute to her own strength and warding- Celestia could not watch over such a vulnerable group alone in such a dangerous place without Luna’s added strength. Had she moved it, then, to better care for it now she could no longer protect it without her fellow protector?
Somewhere, an owl called and a wolf howled- just a Timberwolf, she noted. Caring, watchful Celestia had waged war on the remnants of her Nightmarish scourge. Thankfully, had she learned the Moonwolf packs were all-but eradicated, now set to roam and ravage nothing greater than the pages of a history book. Foul beasts, they had been: twice the weight of the largest pony, with stone-sheering teeth and the keenest hunter's senses, impervious to mortal weapons. Celestia had wiped them away, and cleaned her foulest blots from history.
Truly, 'Go to,' she had said lovingly, and 'Go to!' She had meant, to go with all histories forgiven and forgotten, and all those dark spots rubbed away by her tender, caring touch.
'Go to,' Celestia had said, 'Go to!' and she had gone. The crystal castle of Ponyville had drawn near, and she let her wings narrow, slicing through the air as she descended in a rush of wind, to alight like a crow upon the balcony banister.
Her sister had guessed all too easily her little infatuation, for just as Luna’s own game was the walking and warding of the dreams and minds of all, Celestia had long-since perfected the art of the subtle interrogation and manipulation. She had seen the twinkle in her eyes, or rather, the Sparkle, before even Luna herself had truly given it thought. Maybe it had been the ruggedly-consistent visits to the young Twilight for overly-frequent stargazing sessions, or maybe her buzzing enthusiasm on every return.
And as the ever-studious young mare stood before her, waving in a polite greeting before adjusting a telescope and shuffling some papers, she found it impossible to deny that she had some feelings for her. Yes, the wondrous warmth that filled her chest and cheeks whenever that mare laughed with her, or, more often, lectured her on the stars during their weekly astronomy sessions.
She allowed herself a small smile; had anyone else even thought to lecture her, the Lady of the Night, on her own skies, she would have laughed and scorned them from their pitiful perch, but to let Twilight Sparkle do the same? Perhaps it was her own quirky way of showing her praise, or maybe it was because she would have let that mare say anything to hear her talk awhile longer when they were alone.
Celestia had wished her luck, and bade her 'Go to!' It was so very clear how much, or rather, how little her dear sister knew. She would, herself, never decline any such proposition from Twilight, but though Celestia held a place in both their hearts, she truly controlled neither, and so, she had no such power to order her 'Go to' like some sort of conquest. The thought had been noted and thanked, but she was a princess in her own right, and she would be damned if any pony- mare or stallion, Princess or pauper- thought she could command her heart.
No, even as that beautiful mare turned to look up to her and beckon her to the blanket they oft shared to ward off the chill of the night, she would not bow and scrape to her sister's will. She would strive, gamble, reap and weep, for her wins and losses were her own.
"Twilight Sparkle?"
"Yes, Pr- Luna?" The pretty young mare replied. She still stumbled over her title, but what royal did not secretly pride themself on hearing their title from any, especially one so highly-acclaimed?
Celestia held sway over the sun, the day, Equestria, and every pony within, but she did not rule Luna's heart.
She was her own pony and would not give in to her sister's idealistic play, no matter how well-natured. Was she expected to proclaim her deepest love from the balcony and sweep her precious from her hooves? She snorted. 'Go to' indeed. Celestia could wait awhile for her romantic display.
Celestia could demand anything of a pony, and it would be done. So for her, romance was little more than something to fill the lonely times- gone was her lovely spirit, and gone were her wondrous arts in the tentative dance of love. Perhaps to never be denied was to her favour, and, to whose would it not? But to demand, expect, and receive was the death of the game of love. And for one who thrived on the nights where loving spirits met, to take away the nervous play and risk, was to kill the charm and magic of love itself.
No, Luna would forge her own path, and court her own way. For herself, and not for Celestia. And whatever the outcome, she would accept and treasure it.
"Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?"
And as she awaited her answer, and the young mare flipped through a diary, she smiled. Her dearest sister had no hold here, under the moon, away from her games of politics and reason. Never again would Celestia bid her ‘Go to.’
Author's Note
Just something strange that came to me when I was very, very tired. Completely experimental and new style of writing for me, so that's all.
