Princess Celestia's Best Night Ever
I wake with a start. The last images of the dream are not so fleeting as usual.
Princess Celestia Sol Invicta standing among the nobles and delegates of parliament. Regal and polite and utterly BORED!
The Grand Galloping Gala is this evening, and I don't need my yammering subconscious to tell me that it will be awful. Like every year.
I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh - to my subconscious, that is. The Gala deserves every shred of my disapproval. Though while I have your ear my inquisitive, imaginary audience, I need to clarify that it is the party itself that I dread, rather than the attendees.
The citizenry of Equestria is given to mocking the nobles for being stuffy and uptight (and are often correct), but every one of my little ponies, from the poorest drifter to the wealthiest tycoon has a unique story to discover.
Yes, even my young nephew, Blueblood, as unapproachable as he may seem. Unfortunately, it's exceedingly difficult to bring those stories to the surface when they've been taught all their lives that this is THE social ladder-climbing opportunity of a lifetime.
They're so concerned with making themselves seem refined, they can hardly manage a single interesting story between the lot of them! Though... it may also have something to do with speaking to their immortal head of state.
Imagine that.
Bzzzzt
What's that you ask?
That's my mental timer, telling me that I've reached my allotted time for self-pity. I have a nation to run and a day to start (literally, ha ha!).
I rise from my bed and step slowly out to my balcony to raise the sun. I do not need to be in the open air to put the sun on its path for the next day - the sun is my charge and will obey my commands, wherever I am - but I believe it is important to take a moment to appreciate the new beauty the sun brings forth every morning, rather than taking it for granted.
Speaking of taking things for granted...
It warms my heart to see that the moon has already disappeared behind the horizon. Luna has recently recovered enough to reclaim her place as shepherd of the moon, both magically and in terms of confidence. Even months later, I would still be endlessly happy if she simply lounged around the palace and ate her cereal. Instead she has set about reclaiming her life piece by scattered piece, and for that I am more proud than I can describe.
Unfortunately, I do not think she is ready to join me at the Gala. Her struggle to connect with our subjects was one of the major factors leading to her... downfall, all those years ago, and that problem will now have the added difficulty of her being a thousand years behind the times.
I will never allow that to happen again, but there is no use in pushing her into a high-stress, social setting before she is ready.
There is also the little matter of that incident with the birds in the palace aviary. Though I believe it ultimately turned out for the better, the rest of the animals in the garden now become agitated and nervous in her presence. She is still rather sore about that.
Raising the sun and sending it on its course takes only a moment. As the soft pinks and oranges of morning paint their long shadows, I head back inside my chambers. The first order of business after preparing for the day will be to go find Kibitz, one of my advisors, and check for any last-minute updates to the itinerary. Assuming he does not find me first.
There is much mention of the long-suffering advisor Smart Cookie to Chancellor Puddinghead in the Hearth's Warming story. Between Kibitz and myself, however, I sometimes think that I am the long-suffering one.
But he is good at his job.
"Your Highness, we are already two minutes behind schedule! I estimate that this will snowball to a full fifteen minutes by the end of the day, meaning your approval on any last minute changes to the Gala proceedings at the wrap-up meeting will come too late!" Kibitz exclaims.
You say that like it's a bad thing, Kibitz.
Outwardly I say, "That is unfortunate, Kibitz. Is there anything you have in mind to place us back on schedule?"
"Since you made it clear that the fundraiser appearance for frontier schools and the meeting with the Griffish Isle Trade Board are your priorities for the day, I removed the stop at Donut Joe's and combined lunch with your afternoon tea break."
Damage report! Serene facial expression holding steady at eighty-five percent: no frown detected. Resume course.
"Thank you, Kibitz, but could you maybe see about getting an order of donuts sent to the palace?"
"I'll see what I can do, Princess."
"...and as a final request we would like to open up more of the garden to the party goers, tonight, in order to accommodate our higher-than-average projected attendance."
"I think that's a fine idea, Black Tie. Ah! And I'll have the groundskeeper let some of the animals from the menagerie roam free in the northern section. Perhaps some of the attendees would find them interesting."
"Er, perhaps, Your Highness," says Black Tie with tinge of uncertainty as he and the rest of the Gala planning committee get up from their seats to leave the boardroom. He stops at the doorway and turns his head back to me. "And you'll be there in the usual spot to greet the guests?"
Serene facial expression integrity down to seventy percent.
"Of course, Black Tie, I'll make sure all of the guests get a moment of my time."
That adds up to a far greater number of moments than it used to. Perhaps I should drag Cadance along one of these years? Maybe even Blueblood? I'm pretty sure one Twilight's friendship reports had a lesson about delegating. It's possible I need a refresher course... or a vacation.
Hmm... A visit to Las Pegasus, shows and dinners, oh, and I could take Luna! We could go in disguise and arrive in the early evening, and she'd ask why we arrived so close to closing time when suddenly FLASH, all the lights come on and she turns to with to me with an unbelieving expression unable to hold back her joyful disbelief.
"Princess, you aren't taking money from the royal treasury, are you?"
"No, imaginary Kibitz, I am a responsible immortal! Leave my daydreams alone!"
"Princess? Princess!"
"Huh, what? Oh, yes, Kibitz?"
"The Gala committee has cleared out and your received a dragon fire letter," he says and points down to a scroll laying before me on the table. Huh, so I do.
"From your student, I presume," he adds.
"Now, I would advise that you begin your own preparations for the Gala. You wouldn't want to lose track of time," Kibitz admonishes.
"I move the big, yellow time keeper through the sky, Kibitz," I can't resist throwing out a playful jest as I make my exit. It's been a long day, and it's not over yet. "I never lose track of time!"
"Yes, quite."
Reading Twilight's letter has given me an idea. In the letter she included a well sorted list of things that her friends want to do at the Gala, and one of them mentioned Fluttershy hoping to see the animals in the garden.
Convenient that I suggested that some of the animals be allowed to roam free for the enjoyment of the guests. And that is the root of my idea. Though the rest of the idea has not yet sprouted, I am persistent.
"But, Luuuunaaaa!" I continue with my pestering.
"Do not 'Luna' me, sister. What purpose couldst this endeavor possibly serve?"
I sit with Luna for an evening meal. Though to her, this is a rather early breakfast. She has her cereal bowl laid out before her on the table (more sugar than grain or milk), along with toast covered in that hazelnut spread she has become so enamored with.
There are some aspects of modern society that she grasped more quickly than others.
"Please?"
"Fine. Let us say that I go forth to make amends with the garden creatures. What is to be gained from such activity?"
"Think of it like practicing a speech in front of dolls," I offer. "You can make peace with the animals of the menagerie and build confidence for when you finally reintroduce yourself to our subjects. You might even be able to introduce yourself to a few of the party goers that come to see the animals."
"Dolls?” She cries out, looking scandalized. “I have never done anything of the sort!"
It appears she latched on to that first comment and blocked out the rest.
"Yes, you have,” I state, flatly. “We have both done so in the past."
"Thou speakest foul lies, sister! The Princess of the Night requires no such aid to address our subjects!"
Luna’s modern grammar lessons are still partially overridden when she becomes excited or angry.
"Humor me, then."
"What hath the humors to do with this?"
"I mean, indulge me."
"Oh."
"Please, sister? You'll need to make the royal animals comfortable with you, eventually, for practical reasons. And who knows? Maybe you'll find one that takes a liking to you? You might find a pet!"
"I have wished for a loyal companion for some time now... but what if it does not proceed according to plan? What if I simply frighten the animals again and make them scatter?"
"Well, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. It might make the outdoor portion of the Gala more interesting, at least."
"AH HA! We knew thou hadst an ulterior motive, dear sister! We are wise to thy schemes!"
"No, Luna, I meant what I said. I truly think it would be a good experience for you. I won't force you to do it, and if you don't want to stay once the Gala begins, well... ha ha, I don't blame you."
We share a brief laugh, but then I have a thought.
"Although... you know better than I, Luna, that if you wanted to stick around as a silent observer, no one would catch so much as a glimpse of you unless you wanted them to."
"...Very well, Tia, I will attempt to parley with the royal animals. And then perhaps I will stay to watch your eyes glaze over from boredom. But if the animals flee from the sight of everypony for the next week, you have only yourself to blame."
"As you say, Luna. Now, I still have a little time before I need to prepare for the Gala. Would you like to tell me about your night before I head off?"
"In truth, sister, I had an interesting time this past night. In fact...
Preparations for the Gala fly by, and soon I am standing atop the first level of stairs when Twilight races up to greet me.
“Princess Celestia!” she greets me with every bit of the wide-eyed earnestness that marks her as my faithful student.
“Twilight,” I return with a smile. “It is so lovely to see my star student!”
“Oh, I’m so excited to be here!” She presses on, excitedly. “We have so much to catch up on!”
“Well, I want you right by my side the entire evening, so we’ll have plenty of time together,” I offer with as much enthusiasm as I can, knowing that I’m likely setting her up for disappointment for the first hour or so.
“That’s just what I was hoping you’d say!”
She looks up at me with adoring eyes for a moment longer before we both turn our attention to the other guests making their way up the stairs. As much as I sometimes worry that she hangs on my words a little too zealously, seeing how much I matter to her always brightens the spirit of this tired, old diarch.
Looking off into the landing below, I notice my nephew, Prince Blueblood, heading out into the garden. It’s clear I’m not the only one who saw him, though, as I watch Twilight’s friend, Rarity, make a none-too-discrete beeline after him. He’s a handsome young stallion, but as I mentioned before, his character needs a little work. At any rate, I’ve seen this musical before – it’s not going to end well.
Having performed the greetings at the Gala for literally hundreds of years running doesn’t make me any less resistant to the boredom it brings. It only makes me more able to hide the effects of said boredom.
“Welcome to the Grand Galloping Gala,” I call out with practiced ease.
Twilight pipes up, hopefully, “Princess, I’ve been so excited to spend time with you and-“
“Yes, me too, Twiligh- oh good evening! Welcome to the Gala,” I cut her off like the kind, caring mentor that I am.
“Which is why I- ladies, lovely to see you again!"
Beside me, Twilight sighs, and a little crack forms in my heart.
Urgh! To think the poets write ballads about my clever wit and skill in conversation. I mentally slam my snout into an imaginary brick wall in-time with one of the most popular selections, “The Bluff of the Dawn.”
“Looks like getting a chance to talk to the princess is gonna be a magic trick in itself,” Twilight mutters in a volume she thinks I can’t hear.
I add imaginary spikes to the imaginary brick wall.
“Good evening, so nice to see you!”
“Welcome, have fun at the Gala!”
“This isn’t what I hoped,” she mumbles dejectedly.
My heart breaks a little more for her. The imaginary brick wall with imaginary spikes is now on imaginary fire.
Unlike my carefully controlled expressions, Twilight is an open book to be read by all. It is beyond apparent from the look on her face that she wants nothing more than to share stories of her adventures and lessons that she has learned.
I, in turn, want nothing more than to pull up some cushions and a coffee table, and sit down to listen.
In fact, I believe I might do exactly that and more, besides! One of the things I loathe most about the Gala is how cautiously refined the guests act, worried as they are about what everypony else will think about them. But perhaps I have become hypocritical in this manner. I am the Princess of Equestria, and it is my example that my little ponies follow.
So instead of pretending to enjoy the canned stories the nobles come prepared with, I will encourage them to tell something more interesting... maybe start with a tale of my own.
After a long, pleasant conversation with Twilight, I'll tell her to round up her friends and bring them to the dance floor, while I fetch Blueblood and embarrass my nephew in a dance with his dear Aunt Celestia.
The musicians performing tonight are among the best, and they are well versed in high class party proceedings. If I take to the dance floor at a lively step, they will watch me and match my pace. We couldn't have the princess dancing out of rhythm, now could we? Nothing too fast, of course - just enough to push the envelope.
I don't expect this to revolutionize Galas from here on out, of course, and I'm certain many of the guests will not have the courage or desire to break from the status quo. But at the very least, it will be a Gala that I can enjoy, too!
When the line of ponies to greet finally ends, the Gala had best watch out. I, Princess Celestia, the Day Mare, the Sun's Silver Tongue and Gold Heart, am going to have fun!
The rush of attendees has slowed to a trickle, which is good, because I am getting antsy.
CRASH!
“Twilight,” I hiss out quietly and gesture with a wing in direction of the ballroom where the noise came from. “I believe that is our cue.”
To the few remaining guests I say, “Excuse us for a moment, please.”
BANG, SLAM, BAM, CRASH, as well as a number of other concerning onomatopoeias sound from the ballroom.
I increase my steps to a decidedly swifter pace than one would normally see me moving through the halls. Twilight moves her hooves twice as fast to keep up with my long stride. Most ponies would barely notice a thing, besides my quicker than average speed, but Twilight can tell I’m concerned. And a concerned Princess Celestia, whatever the cause, makes for a very nervous Twilight Sparkle.
As we step through the entrance to the ballroom, my serene facial expression sustains irreparable damage, completely falling away to reveal disbelieving eyes and a slack-jawed mouth (mirrored accurately, I notice, by my faithful student).
The ballroom is in ruins. Dust clouds the air and smashed marble pillars and stonework are strew about the length of the floor. The room appears to have been struck by a freak, indoor twister. Or, more likely, its close cousin: the Element Bearers.
Sure enough, the dust settles to reveal Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity standing, sitting, or slumping in a semicircle pattern close to the worst of the rubble. Their expressions range from regret to shame. I hoped that they would liven up the dull Gala scene. Clearly, I received more than I bargained for.
“Welp, it can't get any worse,” says Twilight beside me, in a very small voice.
Shhh, Twilight, I taught you better than that!
More onomatopoeias! Most of these sound something like RUMBLE. My ears swivel to pinpoint their origin. The sound appears to be coming from outside. Specifically…
The northern garden doors burst open with the fury of Tartarus and a host of animals pours through!
Wallaroos, flamingos, rabbits, spider monkeys, and more surge into the midst of the guests.
My first thought after the safety of the guests is that Luna will never let me hear the end of it. Whatever the second thought is going to be is violently evicted from my mind and replaced with sweet mother of me that’s Fluttershy!
And Fluttershy it is, her cyan eyes filled with crazed fury! The (normally) quiet, meek butter yellow Pegasus is breathing heavily and looks ready to attack.
“You’re. Going. To LOVE ME!” She bellows at the top of her lungs before dashing after the animals into the fray.
Millennia of adventuring, combat, and governing trains the mind to reboot quickly, even in the strangest of situations. And, may I add, this is far from the strangest situation I have been a part of. Twilight’s resume of strange occurrences is building steadily, but she isn’t quite on the same level... yet.
“Uh,” says my scholarly, lavender-furred student. “Umm.”
“Eiy,” she squeaks.
“Eh-hunh!”
One of the greatest minds of this (or any) generation struggles to produce words as I turn to her, Twilight's own eyes already locked on me.
I bend my neck down to her eye level so she can hear above the clatter.
“Run,” I advise her with slightly more dramatic flair than is strictly necessary.
To her credit she recovers quickly and delivers a piercing whistle. Her friends respond, admirably, with the same speed. Even Fluttershy snaps out of her frenzied state, releasing the scruff of the squirrel from her teeth. They all race by me, out the door, following Twilight. Was I a betting mare, I’d put five hundred bits on finding Twilight at Donut Joe’s when this is all over – it was always a favorite of ours during her younger years of study, here in Canterlot. The very same donut shop I missed out on this morning, in fact. Funny how these things work out. I’ll be joining them there, later, for some well-deserved time with friends, but not yet.
For now, I stay behind as the chaos unfolds around me. The nightshift custodians will be getting paid a bit of overtime, I think. The Wonderbolts that were attending the party are presently zipping around the ballroom, removing any terrified guests still present from the storm of fur and feathers. The heralds and the night guard are beginning to rush in, as well – their training helping them to push away their shock and attend to their duty.
I quickly follow suite.
There are guests to extract and critters to round up, but it appears that this year’s Gala has ended early. So much for my plans to turn the evening around. But I will take the lessons I have learned tonight and apply them to next year’s Gala. I can’t help but smile full and genuine at the thought, as I wade into the melee.
Next year will see the rise of Celestia, Princess of the Party!
Author's Note
Again, for FanOfMostEverything's Imposing Sovereigns Contest.
Most everyone has their idea of how Celestia acts. I think I need more experience to really do my own interpretation justice, but I think I did alright for a first try.
Also: there's a whole lot of other princess stories that should be dropping around the time of this posting.
