Celestia, sitting on her balcony, picked up the sandwich in her telekinetic grip and held it in front of her face.
It was fabulously done. Triangular. Brown, seeded bread. A spreading of butter so light as to be almost ephemeral. Layers of lettuce, tomatoes, and watercress, arranged evenly across the base. If she focused a quick diagnostic spell she could find out exactly how many calories were in it... huh, 300. Give or take a few. Casting that spell had probably burnt half of them anyway.
The saying: to "eat like a horse" hadn't come from nowhere after all. That was likely Luna's fault, the bold warrior queen without restraint. The celebration banquet after the final battle against Sombra had been devoured in almost its entirety by her, although, Celestia had to admit that she did polish off the cake. An alicorn physiology requires a massive amount of fuel.
They were both warrior queens once. Now, Luna, frozen in time, was the alien.
The sandwich rotated gently in her inattentive grip, her eyes catching the movement and flicking back to it.
It was a near perfect sandwich. She had had better, of course. The cornucopia they had retrieved from Grogar's hoard delivered each piece of food in supreme condition - enchanted to target the pleasure centres of the brain. That artefact had kept them supplied for days of journeying back to the Everfree. Then, they had locked it in the vaults because for almost a decade after, all other food had tasted like cardboard.
She couldn’t recall if it had made the trip to Canterlot. That was forgivable though. She was a little preoccupied at the time. Her routine meant she didn’t remember much from then anyways.
Was this the same sandwich as yesterday?
She remembered their time in the Everfree. That old castle, with all its little tricks and traps. It would have been more sensible both budget-wise and generally to exclude them but - oh! How they had laughed at the nobles who had fallen prey within those walls. The ponies had laughed too. They had had a sense of humor in those days, so soon after the crystal crisis. Disaster does wonders for drawing ponies together.
The nobles in the protective bubble of Canterlot were a disparate lot. A reflection of her own lack of solidarity. They squabbled and bickered, with only a few looking forward to the future.
Then before the Everfree. Before royalty. So soon after the fall of Discord. Their travels and trials and attempts to draw the ponies together. The fall of the windigoes had only let another, more powerful threat take their place, and had done little to solve the wider racial divides present among the ponies. Grogar and the undead, Moamer and her legion of poison, Tirek - and more! All rose and fell in succession before them.
Celestia's mouth curled downwards at the corners. The last time she had been in a true fight was a little over a thousand years ago. While this did explain, it gave no excuse for the pathetic display against the recent changeling queen. Never before would she have been laid so low, nor bested by mere trickery. She was the queen of chess, the deceiving sun, and her opponent but a babe compared to her experience of ages.
Their little ponies were cruder in those days. Cruder but more real. Not hidden behind facades or complex politics. Not mired in routine. Not lonely.
The sandwich, unattended, slowly drifted back down to the platter.
They had made mistakes. Separate stewardship of their individual domains may had seemed like the most efficient idea at the time, but it was cold. Inequine. Hers the beacon of the shining day, while Luna was relegated to the cruel and unknowing night. The earlier days were the better, when they had ruled far more informally. Over on the campaign trail, or the years of working on the castle. After that it had become far more... stilted.
It amazed her, some of the folk-lore that had grown out of the Nightmare catastrophe. Luna was said to have been the trickster, the deceiver, the cold hearted, usurping mare of the night. If only they knew how wrong they were. Against discord, and in the battles since, Luna had wielded Laughter – her the mare of passion, the night a time of joy and unrestrained emotion. She had carried Honesty, in that her blunt approach, embodied in the hammer, "Noctem", was how she had attacked every problem. She had been the most Loyal between them – the one to stay true to their own selves, and not be twisted into routine and formality – so loyal that her very mind had twisted and fragmented in its struggle to cope with what was truly the antithesis of her passionate nature being thrust upon her.
No.
She wouldn’t let herself follow this dreary path again. Luna was back now, and all was right with the world.
But nothing had changed?
All she had to do was give it time. Time to change.
Celestia shook her head and forced the smile onto her face. For now she could bear the routine. If she managed a thousand years, what was a few more? Nothing to an old mare like her.
Picking the sandwich back up, she took a bite, only to drop it as a burning sensation suddenly spread across her tongue. Gasping, with eyes that were beginning to water, she peeled back the bread and found that in between the layers there was heaping of chili powder, cunningly coloured as to be almost unnoticeable. She dropped it as the burning got worse and coughed, glancing around for the culprit.
From the doorway behind her came a racious cackle, and Luna's head poked round the frame.
"Hail, my woebegone sister! She of fire and of the sun who cannot handle even the tiniest helping of chili! Haha!"
Mouth too burnt to speak, Celestia threw the sandwich which Luna neatly sidestepped, standing in the centre of the doorway, expressing a mock gasp in return.
"Fie! Stooping to the level of a filly? Shame on you! Where is your prized decorum now, sister?"
Celestia made for her, and Luna dodged, dashing around the larger alicorn and diving over the balcony. As she winged her way back to her own tower, the cackling of the former element of laughter made its way back to Celestia, who smiled, despite the burning.
Perhaps... she would remember this sandwich. This one was definitely not routine.
Author's Note
Sunburnt
Kinda inspired by that alicorn time thingamajig.
I should probably edit this somewhat but hey, I can't write.
Moral?
Change is the spice of life I guess.
Also, I live off critiques and comments. Indulge me ;)
