Quid Custodiet Ipsos Custodes
Seneschal
By Kris Overstreet
The door, with its thick hinges and its heavy lock that was never latched, creaked open.
Celestia pulled shut the curtains on the opening to her balcony, shutting out the glow of the moon- the face on the moon, the face that stared down, sometimes accusing her, sometimes weeping bitter tears, sometimes glaring with eyes that vowed revenge- and leaving the gentle glow of a few candles to light the room. “What is it, Pyrite?” she sighed. “Is there some change in tomorrow’s schedule?”
“Princess Celestia, ma’am?”
The soft, shy voice wasn’t that of Prime Minister Prince Pyrite. Pyrite, grandson of Platinum- poor Platinum, she was Luna’s best friend, how fortunate she wasn’t here to see what I did- was an older unicorn stallion, not yet elderly but a long way from young. It had been so long since any pony other than Pyrite had come to her chambers without being summoned that she'd just assumed it was him.
The pony peeking around the massive door that shut the rest of the world away from Celestia was young, wasn’t a stallion, and wasn’t a unicorn. What she was, mostly, was nervous, if not outright terrified.
Celestia took a deep breath and put on her Benevolent Princess face. Heavens knew she’d used it often enough since Luna... drat. She took another breath and forced her muzzle back into that small anodyne smile, wrenched her eyebrows into a gentle, nonjudgmental curve. “Good evening, my little pony,” she said quietly. “What brings you to my rooms at night? Pyrite didn’t tell me I had a meeting scheduled for...” She glanced at the giant hour-glass in one corner and counted the marks below the current level of the sands. “... half-past eight?”
“I beg your pardon, Princess,” the little pony- barely more than a filly- said as she slipped cautiously into the room without opening the door any wider than absolutely necessary. “I’m Prince Pyrite’s scribe.” Once fully into the room, Celestia could see the pony’s gray coat and raven-black mane and tail. No horn, no wings- just an ordinary earth pony. Her cutie mark bore the image of a rolled-up scroll tucked inside a box of some kind. “I’m Pigeonhole, ma’am. We met at the last Summer Sun Celebration.”
Celestia couldn't remember. The Summer Sun Celebration was a blur of upper-class ponies from across the still-young land of Equestria, bowed heads and kissed hooves and recycling the same dozen or so meaningless platitudes and greetings a hundred times, forcing down a slice of cake...
Luna always teased me about the cake, and how I enjoyed eating a second slice just to spite her.
... and, once she'd raised the first sun of summertime, retreating to the sky chariot to be towed back to her palace and her room, where she didn't have to put on a dog and monkey show for her ponies.
There were whole days when she didn't have to force herself to do anything but raise the sun and moon. Those were the good days. They hurt less. Usually.
“Oh, that’s right,” Celestia said aloud, forcing herself to maintain that safe little smile. “I hope you had a good time last week.”
“It was four months ago,” Pigeonhole murmured.
Celestia blinked. “Wait a moment, that doesn’t seem right...” she muttered. Yesterday there had been that dinner with the griffon ambassador, and the day before that, no, two days before that, yes, she’d been sent to Trottingham to plant the first sapling in a new crabapple orchard... yes, that’s right, and, and, and three days before that there had been... had been...
“I’m sorry,” Pigeonhole muttered. “I shouldn’t have spoken. I’m not even supposed to be here, really...”
“No, no, that’s all right,” Celestia said, giving up on trying to backtrack on her schedule for the past month. “It’s just... well...”
How to explain it? How to explain why it took Pyrite’s regular nudges and reminders to get her to do practically anything? Those days when she simply didn’t want to do anything, those were the actual good days. On the bad days, all the smiling faces of the ponies she ruled, all the happy, friendly faces, all the bowing and respectful murmurs and the falling over their fetlocks to serve her, the exhausting task of being their loving, gentle princess, all of it reminded her of-
“Did you really expect me to sit idly by while they all basked in your precious light?”
-and on those days she just couldn’t bear to be around other ponies. Every smiling face had a pair of monstrous slit-pupil eyes. Every innocent giggle turned into that horrible laugh of the... the thing... her sister had become.
But the nights were the worst. At night she could see her sister’s face in the moon, staring down at her, just like now...
“It’s really not important,” Pigeonhole said quietly. “I’ll just leave you alone. I’m sorry.”
“No! No!” Celestia shook her head, stepped forward, and chivvied the gray earth pony away from the door and into the dimly let bedroom. “I should apologize to you, Pigeonhole. You wouldn’t have disturbed me without a good reason, I’m sure.” My ponies need a strong, gentle protector. Not... not me. Not the real me. They mustn't see the real me. “So, what does Prince Pyrite want me to do?”
“Um.” The little pony shifted on her forehooves. “The Prime Minister didn’t send me, Princess. I, um, came myself. To ask you about... um.... things.” Her eyes seemed to want to land anywhere but on Celestia. Celestia understood that all too well, these past few years.
“I see,” Celestia murmured. “Well, Pigeonhole, you know I leave the day-to-day business of keeping Equestria running to Prince Pyrite. I’m sure he has everything in good hooves. If you need something explained, he can do a better job than I can, I’m sure.”
“Um.” Pigeonhole took a deep breath, and then forced out the question like a herd of foals and fillies let out of dame school. “Then I don’t need to worry about the money he’s taking from the Marquis de Luchre?”
Celestia stiffened. “I... what did Pyrite say when you asked him?” she said. And since when do I have a Marquis de Luchre? Pigeonhole thinks I should know him...
“Ma’am, I didn’t ask him,” Pigeonhole said. “When I first joined the palace staff, the Prime Minister made it clear that my job was to obey and not to ask questions. And that there were always more ponies who wanted a soft job out of the fields who wouldn’t ask them.”
“That... doesn’t sound like Pyrite,” Celestia muttered. “Pyrite was always eager to answer any question I had... but, of course, since I appointed him Prime Minister, I haven’t asked him many.” No, not beyond Is This Over Yet or When Can We Go Home, I haven’t. Because I haven’t cared.
But taking money from another pony? For what purpose? Pyrite surely doesn’t need it. “Do you know why this de Luchre is paying this money to Pyrite?” she asked aloud.
“Not exactly,” Pigeonhole said quietly. “But I looked it up, after I saw it happen. Over the past two years there have been a lot of earth pony farms seized for taxes around the island of Manehattan... and the Marquis has been the high bidder of record for the farms at auction. He's built a castle on the tip of the island, and last month he announced his intention to build a town around it- a seaport for trade with the griffons and dragons.”
“I don’t believe it,” Celestia said quietly. “Sweet young Pyrite? I knew him since his grandmother first brought him to meet us- to meet me.”
Yes, an accusing voice in her mind snarled. Another smiling sunshine face who came to praise you. He never had a second glance for me, did he? I was just the pony in his dreams, but you were the one everyone looked to-
Celestia shook her head, dismissing the imaginary voice of her sister. Pigeonhole had been talking, and she hadn’t heard a word. “Never mind that now,” she said aloud. “Take me to the records. Show me where you found all this.” There. That covered her lapse, and it took her where she wanted to go- well, where her duty demanded she go, rather. She wanted to go back to bed or to the window and away from this sweet, innocent, pony whose very presence demanded effort...
“As my princess commands,” Pigeonhole said, bowing. After a moment, she lifted her head again and asked, worry written across her face, “But won’t the Prime Minister be upset? Nopony is allowed to access the archives when he’s not present.”
“What?” Celestia asked. "Everypony is supposed to have access to the archives! How else will they know their history? That their government is being run fairly and honestly?" There were secret rooms, yes-
“I can’t help myself, Celly! I know it’s serious, I know these are dangerous spells, but I’m still helping build a secret room in the palace and it’s so cool!! It has to be hidden behind a bookcase! And there’s these fake books, and we pull on the spines with a hoof, and that’s what opens the door!”
-but most of the records were open to all comers. She'd never changed that. Not even after...
No. Stop that. Something is wrong. And as princess of Equestria, it’s my duty to put it right.
“Where is Pyrite now?” Celestia asked.
“In his mansion, ma’am.”
“What mansion?” Celestia blinked. “He lives here in the palace, like his mother and grandmother did.” She saw the confusion in Pigeonhole's eyes and added, "Doesn't he?"
“Ma’am, I can’t remember when the prime minister didn’t have a mansion north of the palace,” Pigeonhole said. “And my aunt worked there in the kitchens since I was a little filly. That’s how I got this job, ma’am.”
“Since you were... that can’t be right!” Celestia stared down at the trembling gray pony, brushing the cobwebs of- how long exactly??- from her memories. “How old are you, Pigeonhole?”
“Twenty-one, ma’am,” Pigeonhole said.
Twenty-one? And Pyrite has lived outside the palace for as long as she can remember? That’s just not possible! I only appointed Pyrite... how long ago? It was right after I left the ruins of the castle in the Everfree. I thought Platinum’s heir would have some experience running a government, but his father was too old, so...
... why don’t I know how long ago that was?
“Pigeonhole,” Celestia said softly, delivering up the words like lead weights, “how long has it been since we lost my sister, Princess Luna?”
“Who?” Pigeonhole blinked, then nodded. “Oh, you mean Nightmare Moon. The Prime Minister ordered that the Nightmare’s former name not be spoken, since she had abandoned all right to it when she dared raise hoof to you.”
She didn’t raise a hoof, she blasted me with magic. Again and again. And some days I wish she’d finished me off. "I see. How... how kind... of him." She shook her head, uncertain how she felt about Luna being forgotten like this. “How long has it been, please? Surely you know that.”
“Twenty-four years, ma’am.” Pigeonhole nodded again, her lips moving silently as she did some sort of math. “Yes, twenty-four, since this month is the twentieth Nightmare Night celebration.”
For the first time in longer than Celestia could remember, an unfamiliar emotion burned through her veins: pure, unbridled rage. “Nightmare what?” she demanded, reflexively stamping a forehoof on the floor.
“Nightmare Night celebration!” Pigeonhole squeaked, scrambling backwards on her hooves to put distance between herself and her princess. She recited a string of words in rapid-fire fashion, as if she could shoot down Celestia's obvious anger. “First declared by Prime Minister Prince Pyrite in the fifth year of Her Solar Highness Princess Celestia as sole ruler of Equestria, to remember the evil and traitorous Nightmare Moon and to teach children the dangers of the night!”
Teach the- Luna loved children! Luna wore herself ragged every night slaying the nightmares that plagued the dreams of our ponies, as soon as Star Swirl taught her how! I don't know how she did it! And for twenty years Pyrite has been teaching foals and fillies who never knew her gentle touch on their dreams to think of my sister as a monster? When she fought monsters on their behalf? What kind of-
Celestia’s eyes focused again on a curled-up, trembling, terrified gray pony with black mane and tail. Only belatedly did she realize that she’d been speaking aloud- no, shouting, at the top of her lungs, and she hadn’t noticed it. She smelled smoke and heard popping and crackling, and she felt heat caressing her scalp and neck. She glanced in a mirror and noticed her mane, no longer swirling and waving like the aurora, turned into a solid sheet of flame.
What’s wrong with me? I have better control of myself than this? What would Star Swirl or Clover have to say about this?
She took a deep breath, forcing her mane to return to its normal benign state, letting the lighting in the room dim back to its former level. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “But I love my sister very much. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret her banishment. And one day I will get her back. And when she returns, I want her to be welcomed as my sister... not a monster.”
“Ma’am,” Pigeonhole said, straightening out carefully, “I’ll be careful not to mention her again.”
"That's not what I meant-"
"It isn’t right, sister. They love you and fear me. I stay up all night to keep their dreams safe, and I sculpt a sky full of lights and wonders for their enjoyment, and yet not one in a hundred will speak to me!"
Celestia sighed. “Just take me to the records,” she said. “And let us be careful not to alert Pyrite.”
As Celestia read through one document after another, she thanked all the stars that she’d had Smart Cookie back in the day to teach her how to read between the lines of official documents and how to follow the bouncing numbers on a ledger.
"Celly, this is boring. I wanna go visit the windmill again! It’s so much fun watching the wheels and cogs go round and round!"
Celestia shook her head to clear away a moment of childhood memory, then returned her focus to the stacks of scrolls piled around her. The Marquis de Luchre had only been the beginning of it. True, the tax foreclosures over the past two years had very nearly wiped out a pegasus fishing village on Manehattan Island and had taken deep bites out of the apple orchards on the mainland nearby. But those had only been a sliver of the tax foreclosures nationwide, perhaps one out of fifty… and considering how few ponies there were in the three tribes even now, there shouldn’t have been fifty foreclosures total in the past year, never mind the huge list of such proceedings already.
And with the tax foreclosures- for which taxes, exactly?- came tax auctions. The crown already controlled vast, rich, uninhabited stretches of land. What it needed was money. And so the foreclosed properties were auctioned away, to names like de Luchre, an earth pony named Sticky Hooves, a pegasus named Fly By Night, and several members of the unicorn nobility...
... including, to Celestia's shock and humiliation, Pyrite. His name was listed next to about three out of ten resold properties. And the sums listed as paid- by Pyrite and the others... well, Celestia had been out of touch for quite some time, but, well... she didn't think a pony could buy a very large cake for these prices, let alone whole farms and cottages.
The previous year's records held more of the same. And the year before that. And Celestia suspected the trend would continue if she kept asking poor Pigeonhole to dig out year after year of such records.
But why? Pyrite is the heir of Bullion and Platinum. He’s the wealthiest pony in Equestria already. Why would he take these ponies’ homes, when so much of Equestria is still empty and unexplored? And why do the ponies put up with it?
The money wasn't even going into the Equestrian treasury. The archived tax rolls didn't show a single bit from any of the tax auctions. A second look at the records from the auctions explained that: although the auctions were conducted under crown authority, the taxes they were meant to pay were all local levies, received by local nobles- not an elected mayor or councillor among them. Which meant, in practical terms, that those taxes were going into those same nobles' pockets.
Her ponies had to know all this. Why were they putting up with it? When she'd first become princess she'd been put over three squabbling pony tribes, none of whom would put up with any corruption in their rulers. Why hadn't there been some sort of revolt? Uprising? Even a complaint?
And would you even have heard it? Nightmare Moon's voice taunted her in her head. She never stayed silent for very long.
“Pigeonhole,” Celestia called.
The gray earth pony stifled a yawn. It had gone well past midnight. “Yes, Your Highness?”
“Do any ponies ever ask for leniency from all these seizures?” Celestia waved a hoof. “I can't imagine that ponies are just putting up with this.”
“Um… yes, Princess Celestia,” Pigeonhole said quietly. “There was one, two months ago. She came to the Princess’s Court to plead.” She walked over to a rack full of scrolls, ducked her head down to a cluster of scrolls near the bottom, and picked out one scroll with her teeth, carrying it over to where Celestia stood by a reading table. Laying it carefully on the table, Pigeonhole pointed to the scroll and said, “Here’s the record of that session. I wrote it.”
Celestia stared at the still tightly wound scroll. She felt it staring back at her, as if it said, Didn’t Starswirl tell you that, after protecting the ponies, bringing them justice is your most important duty? And where have you been, these past twenty-four years? And whose hooves have you left to do your work while you sulked in your room?
And then there came Nightmare Moon's voice again. I knew you were too weak, dear sister. You should have let me defeat you and rule as these ponies ought to be ruled. And yet it’s not too late…
She shut the voices out of her mind and forced herself to open the scroll. Most scribes came from the unicorn or pegasus tribes- very few earth ponies could match the skill of a magically held stylus or a flexible wingtip. But Pigeonhole’s clean, flowing mouth-writing practically leapt off the page and into her mind, forming the image of Pyrite in purple robes on the throne staring down at a poor earth pony with a gray mane and wrinkled muzzle.
BAILIFF: Oyez, oyez, the Day Court of Her Solar Highness Princess Celestia is hereby open, the Grand Vizier and Prime Minister Prince Pyrite presiding. Be of bending knee for His Royal Highness Prince Pyrite!
PYRITE: You may be upstanding. Ye who would seek plead the mercy of the Princess, come forward.
BAILIFF: Comes forth the first petitioner, Sweet Beet of Trottingham.
PYRITE: State your case.
SWEET BEET: Your Highness, I-
PYRITE: That is Royal Highness. Kindly do not forget again.
SWEET BEET: Yessir, but your Royal Highness, I come to ask Celestia to restore to me my cot and lands in Trottingham. The sheriff evicted me last month after claiming I hadn’t paid my taxes. I’d not even heard of any taxes owed! I paid my tithe and-
PYRITE: That is sufficient, madam. I am familiar enough with the case, having been advised by the good friend to the crown Lord Branch Graft, the sheriff of Trottinghamshire. And the fact is that it is the responsibility of the freeholder to be aware of special levies necessary for the protection of the realm. The levies on the cotsholds of Trottingham were posted publicly within the town hall well in advance of the collection.
Celestia paused in her reading. That wasn't right. Taxes were supposed to be uniform throughout the realm. She could understand special taxes for emergencies in a district, but on only a single town? A single group of settlements? That stank to high heaven.
And, sadly, fits perfectly with everything else I'm seeing.
She continued reading:
SWEET BEET: Nopony around me heard anything about it, Your Royal Highness! Until one day the sheriff and his ponies came and turfed us all out! He didn’t even let us load a wagon with our belongings! Turned us out with naught but the fur on our backs!
PYRITE: To be sold in lieu of the unpaid tax, yes, that is well within the rights of the sheriff. I trust Vanilla, Earl Trottingham, explained this to you in his court?
SWEET BEET: The earl refused to see me! Said if I didn’t have bits, he didn’t have time!
PYRITE: So you did not, in fact, petition the earl before coming before this court?
SWEET BEET: I just said, Your Royal Highness, I tried, and he wouldn’t see me!
PYRITE: That is a pity. As you know, this court does not hear petitions which have not first been heard by the local magistrates. I’m afraid that, until you have been before Earl Trottingham’s court, this court can do nothing for you.
Celestia stopped again. Since when did a pony have to pay to bring grievance before the courts? What kind of noble extorted bribes for his rightful duty?
The record continued:
SWEET BEET: But he won’t see me unless I pay him a heap of bits I haven’t got!
PYRITE: Then I suggest you go out and get them, madam. You have a strong back. I’m certain that pulling wagons and plowing fields will earn you the fees in due course.
SWEET BEET: And where am I supposed to live in the meantime? What am I supposed to eat? I’m an old mare! I came south as a filly with the Founders! My grandma told me the stories of Dream Valley!
PYRITE: And the fact that you are still here speaks to your strength and health, madam. May it serve you in good stead as you continue the founding tradition and break new lands for the glory of Equestria.
SWEET BEET: But Your Highness-
PYRITE: Bailiff, kindly put this peasant out before I charge her with lese majeste. This petition is returned without prejudice pending action by local authorities. Next petitioner.
BAILIFF: Comes forth the second petitioner, the Marquis de Luchre.
PYRITE: Come forth, o noble cousin! State thy wish, that it be speedily granted.
LUCHRE: May it please the crown, I beg leave to levy a tax upon certain freeholders of Sire’s Hollow, that the defenses of the realm, namely Castle Luchre, be fortified and expanded for the good of Equestria.
PYRITE: I am familiar with thy case and grant thy request most willingly. Thy services to the crown are well known.
LUCHRE: I come also bearing a gift suitable for the great ruler who provides general prosperity and peace during the mourning of our beloved Celestia.
PYRITE: Though I am grateful, such gifts are not the proper business of this court.
LUCHRE: My apologies. I shall see thee at the usual…
Smoke got into Celestia's eyes, forcing her to blink. The scroll in front of her smoldered under her gaze, darkening and curling. Blinking, she pushed it away, stepping back from the reading-table with a snort. She barely noticed Pigeonhole yanking the scroll off the reading table before it could fully ignite.
So. Pyrite had not merely turned a blind eye to the abuses of nobles; he'd taken bribes for assisting them. He might even be ennobling them. There certainly had been no Marquis de Luchre or Earls of Trottingham before she'd made Pyrite her prime minister. They had to come by the titles somehow.
And Pyrite- Pyrite, who goodness knew had more money than he could possibly spend in his grandfoals’ lifetimes, despite the generosity of his own granddam- Pyrite had casually dismissed a poor pony’s pleas without so much as an offer of assistance. Probably, Celestia snarled mentally, because he’s already bought up poor Sweet Beet’s farm at tax auction. And de Luchre was about to bribe him in the middle of the Day Court, so Pyrite gets paid both coming and going.
And what else is he getting away with? What will I find if I go through the budgets in detail? Contracts to cronies? Short-changing the guards? Cutting funds to help the poor and pocketing the difference?
“Your Highness?” Pigeonhole’s voice wavered as she pressed the toasted scroll between two fresh sheets of vellum to cool it. “Are you all right, Princess Celestia?”
Celestia's voice drifted quietly through the room, like the soft creaking of the mountainside just before the volcano erupts. "You knew about this two months ago. Why did you not report this to me at once?" she asked.
"I'm so sorry, Your Highness," Pigeonhole said, fear shaking her voice like a sapling in a storm. "But he's Prince Pyrite, and I'm just an earth pony. You let him run things, so he must know best. But... but it just seems... so wrong. I had to tell somepony. But you never talk to anypony... except Pyrite, I mean. So... I was scared."
“Was Sweet Beet the only pony who protested?” Celestia asked in the same quiet rumble. “Have no others come forward?”
“To be honest, Princess,” Pigeonhole said, “Sweet Beet was pretty much the only ordinary pony who’s come before the Court since I became Prince Pyrite’s scribe. Usually it's all nobles, or rich merchants like Deep Pockets, or occasionally a general.”
“My court was meant to be for all the ponies,” Celestia rumbled, her mane changing from its cool colors back to a flaming red. “My sister and I were to unite the tribes with one law, one code of justice, for the good of every pony. And Pyrite has used it for his personal counting-house! He steals from my ponies, accepts bribes from my nobles, and slanders my sister all in the same day! And he does it all in my name!!”
Shadows danced around the room as Pigeonhole ducked behind a writing-desk. “Are you all right, Princess?”
“But this shall end here and now!” Celestia shouted. Her hoof stomped again, and the entire castle shook from minaret to foundations. “Prince Pyrite has forgotten whose court he presides over! He styles himself His Royal Highness! Well, no more! Not another step!” Celestia’s wings opened, and she rose from the floor, flames dancing along her feathers and up and down the fringes of her mane. “There is room for only one ruler in Equestria! And that ruler-“
“There is room for only one princess in Equestria! And that princess shall be ME!”
Celestia’s eyes went wide at the echo of her sister’s words- her sister’s final words before succumbing to the Nightmare. She remembered the last glimpse of Luna’s eyes, flickering wide as she realized too late what she’d unleashed. And she remembered the mad laughter as the Nightmare chased her down, destroying the Castle of the Two Sisters in the process.
What was I about to do to Pyrite? To Pigeonhole? By Starswirl’s beard, what was I about to do to myself?
Nothing that wouldn’t be an improvement… deeeear sister.
Celestia’s hooves touched down lightly upon the stone floor. The flames winked out, replaced by the icy cold of a winter dawn. Her wings lowered, drooping, wingtips touching the cracked flagstones where she’d stomped before.
I… I almost… I would have… just like my sister… and no pony to stop me…
I…
I’ve failed as a princess.
I failed my sister. I failed Pyrite. I’ve failed Equestria.
I’ve failed.
Tears began to spatter on the broken stonework.
Pigeonhole peeked out from behind the writing table she'd overturned for cover. "Your Highness?" After a moment, she stepped completely into the open, reaching a cautious hoof up to touch Celestia's foreleg. "Is there anything I can do to help, Princess?"
"I'm so very sorry, Pigeonhole," Celestia said quietly. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's all my fault."
“Princess Celestia?” Pigeonhole asked. “Princess, are you-“
With the flash of a teleportation spell, the innocent earth pony’s voice, the mountains of highly flammable evidence, and the archives room were gone, and Celestia was alone once more in her bedroom.
The latch, which never before had been locked since the construction of Celestia’s tower, clicked tight with a flash of magic.
There came a knocking from outside. “Princess?” Pigeonhole’s voice barely penetrated the thick door. “Your Highness, are you in there? Are you all right?”
“Pigeonhole,” Celestia said quietly, and then louder so she could be heard through the door, “please tell the captain of the guard to place two guards at the entrance to my tower. No one is to enter it, not even the prime minister. By order of me. If the captain questions the order, send him to my door.”
“But- but- yes, ma’am.”
"Then go home and rest. You have done very well, my little pony, and I'm quite proud of you."
"But I..." The voice trailed off, and after a barely audible, "Yes, ma'am," it departed in a series of slow, quiet hoofsteps.
Celestia breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a sob. She fell onto the floor of her bedroom and began crying, pillowing her head between her forelegs. What would I have done, in my madness? she thought. Would I have hurt Pigeonhole, who did nothing wrong? I would likely have murdered Pyrite, I was so angry. And surely it would not have stopped there.
“Your time is over, sister! Now our ponies shall love me as they ought! From now on, the night shall last FOREVER!”
I’m no different from my sister. I’m unfit to rule. Even Pyrite’s greed would be better than a mad pony on the throne. And I have been mad these past twenty-four years- just as mad as my sister.
The sobs faded as a new resolution came into Celestia’s mind. I… I must abdicate. No, no, if I try to abdicate the ponies of the court will try to stop me. I can’t allow that.
I’ll just leave. Yes. I’ll go off into the wilderness where no pony lives. I’ll still raise and lower the sun and moon, so likely it’ll be weeks before anyone notices I’m gone. Possibly even years. It’s not like I’ve done anything more substantial than cut the ribbon on a bridge or break bread at a banquet. I won’t be missed. Pyrite will see to that.
Celestia waited until the captain of the guard knocked on her door to verify her orders- yes, nobody, yes, not even the prime minister Prince Pyrite, yes, not even the prime minister’s scribe who carried the order, yes, not even the maids or the food servers, NOBODY. And then, after the sound of the guard captain’s hooves had gone silent for half an hour, she threw open the balcony curtains, took one look at the sneering face of her sister in the moon, spread her wings, and flew.
Not a single pony in Canterlot saw her leave. Dawn wasn’t due for four hours yet. They all slept while Celestia soared over the walls of Canterlot city, down from the heights of Mt. Canter, and through the skies of Equestria, alone.
Behind her, in the thin, chill air, tiny crystals of frozen tears fell from the sky.
Celestia awoke to the sound of voices below her. She’d raised the sun before going to sleep in a tree in the middle of a forest, apparently uninhabited by ponies or anything else. But, as she blinked in the autumn afternoon light, the voices below her proved her mistaken.
She barely managed raise her head to look down. Her body felt leaden, though not as heavy as her heart. Perhaps if I stay still they will go away, she thought. Surely they’re but passing through.
“… but the bitterness in the younger princess’s heart had twisted her into a wicked mare of darkness- Nightmare Moon!”
Celestia’s eyes snapped wide open, and her head jerked up, brushing against the leaves of the branch above her. The ponies below- a caravan of about two dozen ponies, almost equally divided between the three tribes- failed to notice, gathered around an earth pony matron of middle years, listening intently to the story.
“She vowed that she would wrap the world in eternal night,” the matron continued. “But her sister reluctantly took up the most powerful magic known to ponykind, the Elements of Harmony. And with the Elements she defeated her sister, locking her up within the Moon, where her image remains today as evidence of the terrible Night Without a Dawn.”
“And that’s why we have Nightmare Night, isn’t it?” a filly asked. “To keep Nightmare Moon locked away!”
“The older sister, that’s Princess Celestia, isn’t it?” asked a foal.
“That’s right,” the matron said. “With her sister gone, she took on the responsibility for both sun and moon… but so heartbroken was she by the loss of her sister that she sealed herself in her castle for a year and a day, and ever after she has appeared to us only briefly, always returning to her castle to mourn for a friendship forever broken.”
Celestia’s head lowered again, and she tried to hold back fresh tears. Forever. I’ll never see little Lulu’s smiling face again, never hear her giggle at a good practical joke, never see the lights of the stars as only she could paint them…
And it’s all my fault. If only I’d paid more attention.
“And that’s why we have Penny-Pinching Pyrite,” a young grown stallion spat. “Because Celestia won’t get her head out of her-“
“You hush that up!” One of the unicorns waved a hoof at the pony who’d spoken. “My great-granddad was one of the unicorns who burned out his magic raising the sun and moon, before the princesses took over! It’s an important job! Without Celestia there wouldn’t be any ponies! No Equestria! And unlike Pyrite,” and now he too spat before finishing, “she never asks for any special favors to do her job!”
“Well, yeah, she’s good at that part of her job,” said a pegasus roosting in the branches of a tree across the little clearing from Celestia’s. “But she’s let old Prince Fool-for-Gold wreck everything. My cousin lost his house on the east coast because of Pyrite and his cronies. Now he and a bunch of other pegasi are trying to build a second cloud city, like Cloudsdale, on the west coast. They’re calling it Las Pegasus, in the old tongue, y’see. Because it’s for pegasi only. No Pyrite!”
“Mm, that’s bad,” one of the earth ponies muttered. “If the tribes break apart again, it’ll be the windigoes all over. And where will we all go then?”
“Wherever we go,” a unicorn muttered, “Pyrite will be there first to charge us tax and rent.”
The others nodded sadly.
“Well,” said the matron, “maybe we’ll have a few years before he takes notice. Let’s start setting up camp before Celestia sets the sun on us. We’ll be in the new valley tomorrow, and from what I’m told it’s good soil there. Good for starting a new community. And miles away from any rich pony who wants to pay Pyrite to take it away from us.”
“Granny?” a filly asked. “If Pyrite is so bad, why doesn’t somepony do something about him?”
The matron sighed. “Because he’s Platinum’s grandson,” she said. “That means the unicorns will follow him, mostly. If anypony tries to push him out, it'll probably mean another tribal war, and nopony wants the windigoes to come back. So there’s really nobody to stop Pyrite, I’m afraid.”
“Princess Celestia could,” the filly said.
The matron shook her head. “The last time she did something like that it cost her her sister,” she said quietly. “And if she does it now, it’ll cost her the grandchild of a pony she loved like another sister. I don’t know if her heart can take being broke like that again.”
“But Pyrite’s a bad pony,” the filly insisted. “He isn’t anypony’s grandson anymore.”
“Everypony is somepony’s grandchild,” Granny said. “Now go fetch us some kindling for the fire. Hurry up.”
Celestia waited until the ponies of the caravan were preoccupied with the tasks of setting up a campsite before teleporting away.
Celestia traveled, no longer seeking solitude, but still keeping out of sight.
She saw towns, growing towns, with new castles and mansions, with tall steeples and flags flying, busy marketplaces and cheerful ponies.
She saw new farms being carved out of wilderness, with hastily built forts always near at hoof to protect against monster attacks.
And she saw her ponies struggling to find happiness despite all the wealth the land had to offer. Ponies fled from monsters, then went back to continue clearing land for fields. Ponies labored to save up for the tools to build a new life in the wilderness. Ponies scrimped and saved to pay heavy rents on rooms and farms closer to towns. Ponies buried jars of bits behind their houses against the day a new "emergency tax" would bring a sheriff knocking on their doors.
Equestria still prospered, still grew. But it grew despite Celestia, not with her help. She'd abandoned them. And their new rulers might protect them from the worst monsters, but there was no one to protect the ponies from them.
When she returned to Canterlot her absence had not been noticed, not even after a week. She watched through a window while Pyrite held a short pro forma Day Court, with only two royal petitioners (asking for, and getting, grants from the treasury). Servants in the palace and unicorn nobility in the town gossiped about Celestia’s latest “snit”. And, so far as anypony could tell, nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed at all.
She hadn't abandoned her ponies a week ago. She'd abandoned them twenty-four years before. Pyrite had just taken her place. To be fair, he hadn't done a bad job, exactly. He hadn't bankrupted the country or enslaved the ponies. He'd just... taken advantage of the power of an absolute monarch, when the monarch didn't feel like exercising it.
To tell the truth, Celestia thought somberly, when the monarch wasn't fit to exercise it. And I'm still not fit. But...
Celestia flew up beyond the clouds, up to the craggy peak of Mt. Canter itself, and from there she lowered the sun and raised the moon. On this night the face of the Mare in the Moon did not sneer or snarl or weep. It simply stared down at her, as she stared up at it.
“What am I going to do, Luna?” she asked. “I can't just let Pyrite get away with it. But would I really be any better? I've failed my ponies for so long. What will my next failure cost them?”
The Mare in the Moon, for the first time in years, gave no reply. No memories of the past, no mocking voices of guilt or fear, not a single mental whisper. It stared, and did nothing.
“But I'm supposed to unite the tribes," Celestia continued. "Pyrite can only continue because he rules in my name. What happens to Equestria once ponies discover I'm gone? Will the pegasi still follow a unicorn prince with a reputation for greed? Will the earth ponies? Or will the three tribes split apart again?"
The Mare in the Moon said nothing.
“And am I even able to take over?” she went on, still staring up at the orb in the sky. “I’ve spent a quarter century moping in my room, unable to do anything I’m not told to. Pyrite used me like a puppet and a shield. What’s to say it won’t happen again?”
The Mare in the Moon said nothing.
“I just don’t know, Luna,” Celestia said quietly, lying down on the mountain top. “I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do without you.”
And in the silence of the still air above the clouds, Celestia fell asleep, the Mare in the Moon staring down upon her.
The moon filled her vision, shining above an unfamiliar village, the face in it staring down, immobile, inscrutable…
… until stars began to swirl around the sphere, rotating and gyrating in a bizarre dance. Four great stars converged upon the glowing globe…
… and the face vanished.
“AH-HAHAHAHAH!”
Celestia spun around to face the voice. Nightmare Moon stood on a balcony, facing her, slit-pupil eyes level with her own.
“After a thousand years, sister, I have returned!” Nightmare Moon strode towards her, metal shoes striking sparks on the floor. “And now that the Elements of Harmony have no one to wield them, I shall do what I should have done a thousand years ago. And this time, dear sister…” A mouth full of sharp, spiky teeth opened into a horrible smile. “THIS time, the night shall last FOREVER!”
Nightmare Moon’s horn flared into light, and for a moment everything went white.
When the light died away, there sat… not Luna as she last remembered her, but Luna as a filly, with dark straight hair and adorably chubby cheeks. “Sister? Celestia?” The filly-Luna opened her forelegs and wrapped them around Celestia, crying, “I missed you so much!”
Celestia hugged Luna back. “I missed you more, Luna,” she said quietly. “I still miss you.”
“I’ll never leave you again,” Luna said. “We’ll always be together.”
“I don’t know what to do, Luna,” Celestia said.
“Don’t worry,” Luna said, hugging Celestia tighter. “I’ll always be here for you. Just like you were always there for me. For a thousand years, you kept waiting for me.”
Celestia’s eyes snapped open. The rocks of the mountaintop were digging into her barrel. A wind had picked up, icy cold and strong. Above her head the moon shone down…
… but for a moment, just a moment, the Mare in the Moon seemed to have a gentle smile on its face.
Celestia smiled back up at it. For the first time in so long, she had hope. Hope, and purpose: her sister was coming back, and there had to be an Equestria worth coming back to.
Pigeonhole had finished her evening oatmeal and was carrying her wooden bowl to the washbasin in her mouth when a knock came at her chamber door. Quickly depositing the bowl on the nightstand, she shouted, "Coming!"
The door opened, and a head shyly poked itself around the frame... a head with an ethereal mane all the colors of the dawn. "Miss Pigeonhole? May I come in?"
"P-p-princess Celestia!" Pigeonhole dropped to her knees and lowered her muzzle to the floor.
"None of that, please," Celestia said. "I came to apologize."
"Apologize?" Pigeonhole asked. "But you're the-"
"I scared the living daylights out of you," Celestia said quietly. "And then I left you hanging for a week while I dithered about what I should do. You did the right thing, and you deserved better of me. I'm so sorry."
Pigeonhole's jaw worked. The glorious pony who raised the sun and moon, the pony who was one of the two on the national flag... was apologizing to her. It was like a mountain stepping aside to allow her to walk past. She didn't know what to say next.
"And now," Celestia said, "I need your help. We have a lot of work to do."
"Yes, ma'am." That Pigeonhole could answer to. She understood work.
And from what she'd seen in the past six months, there was indeed a lot of work to do.
“Oyez, oyez,” the bailiff of the Day Court called out. He raised a spear in his magic and brought the butt down on the floor of the throne room. “The Day Court of Her Solar Highness Princess Celestia is hereby open, the Grand Vizier and Prime Minister Prince Pyrite presiding. Be of bending knee for His Royal Highness Prince Pyrite!”
The dozen or so ponies in the chamber lowered their forelegs to the unicorn who walked into the chamber. His once-golden mane had a generous portion of gray in it now, and wrinkles lined a face which once might have been called handsome. He wasn’t old, yet- not quite- but he hadn’t been young for quite some time, and the cold blue eyes in his face had left innocence behind an even longer time before.
“Be upstanding,” he said, permitting the ponies- all either guards or nobles, none of that pesky riffraff today- to rise back onto their hooves. “Ye who would plead the mercy of the princess, come forward.”
Nopony moved. This was as expected and arranged. This session would likely be over in a matter of minutes. Just like it should be, Prince Pyrite thought; the rulers shouldn’t be bothered with complaints from the lesser ponies, anyway.
And then the great doors at the far end of the throne room slammed open hard enough to break one off at the hinges. In walked Celestia, face more stern than Pyrite could ever remember seeing it, even since that time as a little foal that he’d slipped a little jimsonweed into Aunt Celestia’s pancakes for a prank.
And behind her… how many ponies was that, exactly? Half of Equestria seemed to be filing into the throne room after her!
Then that mousy mud pony- Pigeonhole, that was her name- stood up from her writing table and walked to the door in the back of the room opposite from the one he’d come in by. Pyrite thought of himself as a smart pony, but even a diamond dog could see that, to borrow an earth-pony phrase, the jig was up.
But he’d dance to the last step. He’d collected enough money and land to ensure he’d still be a player as long as he lived, even if he couldn’t use Celestia’s name to get what he wanted anymore. Smiling, he left the throne, walked down from the dais to the floor, and knelt deeply before the princess. “Welcome, Princess Celestia,” he said. “I yield the throne to you, as is your right.”
Celestia’s gaze did not soften. Her voice came out cold and calm: “Thank you, Prince Pyrite. I thank you for your service as grand vizier and prime minister. No pony could ever take your place. I am sorry that I left you alone to hold things together for so long.”
“Your Highness does me too much honor,” Pyrite said smoothly.
“I know,” Celestia murmured. In a louder voice she continued, “In light of the… famous… record established by Prince Pyrite, I hereby declare the offices of grand vizier and prime minister abolished. Pyrite, you are free of all duties and may depart to a well-earned retirement.”
Pyrite nodded, but winced when Celestia quietly added a line that wasn’t strictly according to decorum: “If you know what’s good for you, that is.”
Having disposed of him, the princess strode up to the throne and seated herself. “I thank all of you who have given me comfort and solace during my period of mourning for my sister,” she said. “I hereby declare my mourning at an end. Henceforth I shall return to the direct government of Equestria. This will entail a number of reforms, including the expansion of earth pony democratic traditions throughout the realm, and the withdrawal of political power from the nobility.”
Pyrite’s jaw dropped. Throwing him out was… well, not exactly expected, but fair dues, really. He’d gotten away with a lot more than he’d ever expected for a lot longer than he’d dare hope. But taking on the entire aristocracy? Celestia was declaring war on the ponies who ran things, for goodness’s sake! The better class of pony! Did she think they wouldn’t push back?
“But the most immediate problem is the large number of homeless and dispossessed ponies which have found no recourse over the past ten years,” Celestia continued. “These ponies, generally through no fault of their own, have been victimized by a tax system that changes without warning and without notice, and which is applied most unevenly. This is not a thing that can be left to continue, as I’m sure you all agree.”
For the first time the commoners spoke, cheering in loud and angry agreement.
“Therefore… Pigeonhole, if you would begin passing around the notices?” Celestia gestured to the scribe. “As your princess I will still need the help of able ponies. Therefore I hereby appoint Pigeonhole, loyal servant to the crown, as my secretary and seneschal. Rest assured that her orders are my orders, and that anything she does is done at my command.”
Pyrite glared at the little mud-hoofed traitor as she began distributing large sheets of vellum through the crowd. One of the sheets landed in front of him, and he levitated it up to eye level, squinting a little bit to bring it into focus.
“Whenever possible, the farms and cottages of those who have been dispossessed shall be returned,” Celestia continued. “In most cases, unfortunately, that will not be possible. In such cases the ponies will be reimbursed for the property according to its current assayed value.”
Pyrite felt a twinge in his coin purse. That would be… very, very expensive. But he would survive, as would his friends, and in the long term the, er, investment would still pay off.
“This reimbursement will be provided direct by the crown as funds become available,” Celestia continued. “The funds shall come from a reform of the tax system, which shall be administered by agents of the crown directly. The new tax system will be uniform throughout the realm, consisting of a tax on incomes above a certain amount and a land value tax on land holdings above a certain value or area. Higher incomes and larger holdings will be taxed at a higher, but predictable, rate, which shall not be changed more than once per year and which will be made public by the crown a year in advance.”
Pyrite’s wallet no longer twinged; it felt like it had been ripped off his body, along with a couple of legs. He looked at the proclamation, which indeed contained a schedule of the two new taxes. He did a bit of mental math and worked out the tax he’d owe in the first year alone.
I’m ruined. I’m utterly ruined. I’ll be lucky to keep my mansions in Canterlot and Trottingham. I’ll have to sell almost everything else. And then I’ll pay tax on the money I raise, because I paid so little for those properties in the first place…
“Of course,” Celestia continued, “any pony who objects to the taxes as levied is free to appeal. And I will gladly hear the appeal… after a thorough investigation into the circumstances of the appellant and the means by which he or she came into the property being taxed.”
That drove the final dagger of ice through Pyrite’s heart. In other words, he thought, Celestia intends to claw back everything- all the bribes, all the land grabs, all of it. And if I squawk, she’ll bring out the evidence which I know she has, because I never thought she’d care to look for it.
I sit still and accept my losses, or she nails me to the barn door. That’s what it boils down to.
Pyrite glanced around the handful of other nobles in the room. They were making the same calculation and coming up with the same answers. They’d sit still for it. They’d sit still for all of it. Or else they’d learn what the inside of Canterlot’s dungeons looked like.
And from the looks the commoners were giving him, he and his friends might consider themselves lucky to make it to the dungeons, with their thick doors and strong iron bars that would keep the mob outside.
And to drive the point home, Celestia added, "Hopefully this tax reform will bring in the income required to make things right with Our subjects. If not, there might need to be an audit of the crown's accounts to discover where savings might be had."
Pyrite read this as: I know where all the bodies are buried. Cross me, and I'll get a shovel.
“The wisdom of Princess Celestia is most profound,” he proclaimed, bowing again. “I merely hope I may speak to you in private from time to time to advise you on its implementation.” Meaning: I surrender, so please let me grovel at your hooves for forgiveness and leniency.
“Prince Pyrite, you are always welcome to visit me,” Celestia said quietly. “And if you ever find you need a favor, rest assured I shall show you the same generosity you famously showed to the least of my little ponies.” Celestia’s grim eyes never brightened. “Exactly the same.”
This produced a wave of razzing and boos from the common ponies, which Pyrite had to stand and take. Boos and hisses hurt a lot less than torches and pitchforks.
One of his friends sidled over to him and whispered in his ear, “I thought you were Celestia’s favorite. Why don’t you do something? Ask her for her protection, or something. These grubbers will eat us alive.”
“This is Celestia protecting us,” Pyrite hissed back. “If you don’t like the price of protection, speak up. Just wait until I’m out of this room first.”
“My ponies,” Celestia said loudly, waving a hoof and bringing the crowd to heel. “My ponies, we have a very long day ahead of us. Let us begin with the petitions. Pigeonhole, please give the bailiff the revised list…”
The sun set and the moon rose over Mt. Canter.
In the streets of Canterlot, children squealed in delighted horror as shadows flittered over the streets. Pumpkin lanterns lit the avenues and monstrous decorations loomed from house-fronts. Celestia watched it all from above while Pigeonhole poured a cup of tea for her.
“Your Highness,” Pigeonhole said quietly, “why didn’t you cancel Nightmare Night?”
“Because Luna is coming back,” Celestia replied. “In about nine hundred and seventy-six years, give or take a year. And I have to build a world she can come back to.” She gestured up at the moon and the pony face in it. “A world she can live in without every pony hating or fearing her.” She sighed. “As much as I hate it, I think that means encouraging ponies to forget Luna and remember only Nightmare Moon. That way, once she’s cured, ponies will treat her as her and not as the monster she became.”
“I don’t quite understand,” Pigeonhole admitted.
“Don’t worry. It’ll work,” Celestia said. “And besides… Luna always loved a good practical joke. A holiday filled with pranks? That’d be perfect. About the only thing that would make it better would be if the holiday involved candy of some sort.”
“Your sister liked candy?”
“Loved it,” Celestia said. “Of course she teased me for my love of cake, usually while stuffing a nougat into her own mouth…”
"That sounds... nice," Pigeonhole said carefully. After a moment she added, "Are you all right, Princess?"
"Yes," Celestia said. "It's another good day." After a moment she added, "I'm going to have more bad days, Pigeonhole. Days when I want to crawl back into that bed and never come out. I'll need your help to keep going. I can't let all this happen again."
"I'll do everything I can for you, Princess," Pigeonhole said obediently.
Celestia quirked an eyebrow. "Even on days when my mane catches on fire?" she asked impishly.
“The last of the tax auction appeals will be tomorrow,” Pigeonhole said, changing the subject. “And then we begin on the protests over the new tax laws. And the committee on government reform is threatening to reject all your proposals.”
Celestia’s mouth turned up. “It’s almost a shame that Pyrite wasn’t just a little more greedy,” she said. “He didn’t get nearly enough nobles tangled up in his crimes. If he’d got the whole lot, things would be so much simpler.”
Pigeonhole stared at Celestia.
Celestia tried to look at her own muzzle. “Is there something on my nose?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” Pigeonhole said. “It’s just… I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile. That is, an honest smile.”
“Really?” Celestia sighed, but the smile didn’t go away. “I’ll have to do it more often, then.”
Above them, from the dark side of a crescent moon, the Mare in the Moon stared down.
If it said anything, Celestia didn’t hear it.
Author's Note
Depression, for whatever reason, is an insidious thing. It's not just about being sad, though that can be a trigger or a symptom. It can be simply the lack of volition, an absence of desire or mental ability to do anything. No activity appeals. Any action, no matter how necessary, requires tremendous effort. It's so much easier to just sit or lie and let time pass.
Now add to this the loss of someone so close to you that you're practically halves of each other... and, furthermore, the belief that you are doubly responsible for the loss.
This is an exploration of a Celestia who allowed herself to succumb to depression and mourning... and dealing with the consequences when an immortal being loses track of the passage of time. I wanted to put more depression into the story- that is, more exploration of the condition- but the Imposing Sovereigns word count limit and my own free time for writing kept me to the plot.
I occasionally have bad days like Celestia, but what's left of my hair does not catch fire.
