Reigning supreme over a wealthy civilization doesn’t sound too bad to most. Others, more smart ponies, realizes the deal also comes with a lot of duties, chores and bureaucracy. A surprising amount of work to keep a keep a kingdom stable and growing. Even if one picked the path of dictatorship, would only mean more work just to keep your position. Attempting to ease your burden through a more democratic system only means further work still, to ensure everypony doesn’t screw each other over.
Being an immortal ruler, who gets to observe system after system failing after another, can get tiring to say the least. The workload never ends, I don’t even have retirement to look forward to, staying unaged and as powerful as ever gives me no excuses.
To many I am a god. A goddess of raw power and true wisdom. I am beyond them, perfection and supreme. Marely a divine being wearing the white coat of deceit to give them an appearance their feeble minds conceive, as I guide them through their far too short mortal lives. Saving them from themselves.
To others I am a Mother. The maternal avatar, the first from an existence way before the first true mortal pony stepped the ground of our world. Watching over the generations after generations of my child, although I never carried them nor birthed them I am their mother in spirit. Leading them to the growth of their spirit to become divine and prepared into the next world.
And some again I’m just a fancied up pony who happens to have the most tricked to see divinity where there’s only smoke and mirrors. But I still hold the wisdom of the ages, countless of lifetimes passed before me as I learn to guide history to my advantage. But not some divine, maternal spirit as some so ascend me to be. Just a pony with different cards on me hoof than others, and I know how to play them well. As long they can find ways to benefit from it through their own short existence, my eternity is of no concern to them.
In most of these cases, it is a bitch to get laid now and again.
A mother, a goddess, an immortal abomination all the same, I am still a mare with needs, you know.
As much as some juicy novelists like to fantasizing about for a quick book sale, there is no secret harem of mares and stallions at my disposal. There are no secret affairs between me and my servants and guards. Please, any workplace must be kept professional, including the royal castle.
And even if I tried, my charm doesn’t seem to be enough to break them free from their ideals of me. Too perfect, too godly for low mortals as themselves. Maybe I am too much of the image of the immortal mother, for them to see beyond their foalish but innocent adoration. Others have misinterpreted my advances for tests or riddles they need to solve to find some sort of divine answers to true happiness. Oh so many fools running off into adventure, misunderstanding my words for meaning more than what I actually just said.
Leaving me behind like a fool as they run off. Frustrated as ever.
Being the eternal ruler of a beautiful kingdom can be such a drag.
Sometimes I can get lucky. A kind of luck that only fills me with nothing but regrets. I do feel that these experiences help me to feel closer to my little ponies. How many out there ever waken up in the morning to roll over and immediately face their worst mistake as the night before rushes back their memory? A reminder that even I am not perfectly flawless, even I can misjudge in the heat of the moment. In desperation.
And here we are now. Rolled over to face the pony lying next to me in the royal bedsheets. The bed looks as much as a mess as I feel myself. Sadly the relief finally experienced is overshadowed by the regrets. Just look at him. The sight of the stubbles return itchy memories. Even at the distance kept, I can smell the stench of his morning breath. What was I thinking last night?
If only he would have been satisfied with having one tartarus story to tell his friends, if they would ever believe him. But he’s still here.
“Morning, Princess.”
I am no pony to judge others on appearance. I am the guiding spirit of my people, teaching them to be open minded and to give all creatures we meet a chance. But come on. That tone of his gives me shivers of the unpleasant kind. I bet he thinks he sounds smooth, not sleazy.
“Hmhmm.” I simply get out of bed, moving to my balcony. Time to raise the Sun for a beautiful sunrise. Really taking my time to make it a show for all the early morning ponies, and those still up to remind them it should be time to try and get some rest. Maybe the cold shoulder will get the message across, giving him time to sneak out of my royal chambers less I call the guards or he gets the stink eye from my maids.
But returning to my bedroom he is still there. Resting on his back, hooves behind his head as he stallionspread under the sheets. Looking so damned satisfied with himself. Oh sweet Mother of Me, he’s one of THOSE ponies.
“So! When is breakfast!” I can FEEL the smugness in his voice, talking this casually to the goddess of ponykind. I am sure I found this daring attitude as charming last night, as refreshing from everypony else worshipping me so that I could never find one at my own eye level. Metaphorically speaking. Anypony else ever actually reaching my eye level have always either been family, enemies of the state or friend-zoning me haaaaaard.
I give him my best raised brow, one that have sent ponies into tears as they fall on their knees to apology for whatever heinous crimes they ever did in their lives.
Sadly this seems ineffective on him.
Simply stretching out of on the bed like he belongs on those silken sheets I need to send to the furnace after last night.
“Are the maids coming with it prepared or do we call for them, hm? Be a tots and make sure I get my coffee black.”
By the Sun on my royal flanks, I should banish him to the very place I represent and guide.
“I take my breakfast in the dining hall,” I finally speak up, my voice cold.
“Ah, making it officially right away, eh? Daunting,” he chuckles. A terrible wheezing sound, he sounds like at least ten packages a day. Explains the hole I finally noticed burned through one of the sheets. The jerk actually did smoke in bed!
“You seem to have misinterpreted something,” I say flatly. A scolding tone, calm. Not angry but disappointed. It has in the past been enough to have squads of guards quit on the spot as they felt unfit for their duties in shame from a single word from me.
“Nah, I’m pretty sure I get the picture,” he says with a wink. Oh please send me to the Moon, he actually thinks he’s smooth.
“Maybe rushing a bit, but I ain’t complaining.”
“Rushing… what?” I do the mistake of asking.
“I get it, I get it. Why sneak around the bushes, making a scandal of things once the paparazzi get the smallest sniff of anything they can blow out of proportions. I mean, I’m usually not the type to rush ahead, moving too fast, but in your case I’ll make an exception, sun butt.”
A twitch at my eye. No.
I still have the option to call my guards. Nopony would listen to the ramblings of a madpony after all. Yet, the fool I am, I stay still on my spot in the middle of my room like a hostage situation. Giving him the chance still to get his flanks off my bed and out of my room. Out of my castle. Out of my capital! He still has the rest of the kingdom to roam through for more mistakes to make!
“I think your dress should be pink. At least for the announcement. We can get into details of the wedding itself later. I’ve never been a stallion to tie myself down bu-”
“Enough.” Still my voice is kept at a level tone, never raised to towards my little ponies in my life and never shall I. But I feel the absolute disapproval on my face, an expression alone that made me able to feel a former student residing far away from here clutching her heart as she collapses into a sobbing mess of apologies for minor crimes I couldn’t care less about.
Sadly he’s not even looking at me, although the aura alone should have sent him into a wailing pile of misery and self-loathing.
“What’ll the title be? I know that niece of yours let her husband call himself Prince-consort or whatever. I mean, you are THE Celestia. Why are you still calling yourself a princess anyway? Your crown at that ceremony was way bigger than all the other princesses’ too. Yer way bigger too. In a good kinda way, I guess, I can dig tall mares. If ya know what I mean~”
Roasting slowly, not over an open fire but at a concentrated beam from the Sun itself. A pleasant fantasy that hits me in the moment.
“I mean, I can go by ‘consort’ instead of fiancé for the first while, but once we get officially hitched it gotta be better than that.”
Is he even listening to himself? Not sure I am, anymore.
“I guess if I get to be king you at least get to be queen yourself, I guess. I mean, you can keep calling yourself princess if you want, fine by me. Eh, King Sleek the First. Got a ring to it, eh?”
I leave him to ramble on. I leave the room. Tempted to just leave the castle all together. I can build a new one. Appleloosa sounds nice this time of year.
Author's Note
Just a silly story appearing in my head this morning as I woke up. There is no morale, I just had a kick out of writing this sort of side to Celestia. I'm sure somepony at least once or twice in her life thought they could woo themselves to a kingly title, I simply wrote my own idea how that could be going down.
I hope you enjoyed.
[Update] AAAAAHHH! Someone made a reading of this silly story!
Check it out! [/update]
