When the Sun Sets

The first sign that something was wrong was when the doctor checked Celestia’s eyes twice—the device strapped to her horn emitting a sickly green sheen. Quite disconcerting, if she was being honest with herself but her visage remained an unwavering beacon of motherly kindness, with perhaps, an inkling of self-serving mendacity mixed in.

Strange, she had thought, but paid it no mind—or at least, she tried not to. She had been having these checkups for years now—ever since the advent of modern medicine, it seemed. Without failure, they had done the same thing every single time. Routine, established on the annual, never failed to follow the same monotonous train of dull tests and questioning:

1. Cardiovascular
   
2. Pulmonary
   
3. Neurological
   
4. Extremities
   
5. Magical
   Extra: Daily cake consumption

She always passed with flying colors (however steeped in nuance the last questions tended to be; so what if she ate two extra slices of cake?).

Never once had they checked her eyes a second time and never had the light shone green like that.

“Please blink twice for me, Princess.” She complied and the doctor paused to scribble something hastily on a notepad suspended in blue-toned magic to his right.

One of the many perks of being an alicorn was the general lack of health impediments, courtesy of an earth pony’s endurance, a pegasi’s stubbornness, and the magical protection of a unicorn all rolled into one. She was healthy. She had always been healthy. In fact, she could hardly recall what it meant to be ill.

The second sign was when the doctor retreated along with the nurse into the backroom, speaking in hushed tones all the while. Strange, she had thought again, but she held hope to the notion of her uncompromised health. Naivety was not her strong suit, but what could be wrong, she continued to think.That was a question, nay, the question that bounced to and fro within her head, receiving not a single answer. Perhaps the doctor would tell her? It normally didn’t take this long.

Like a virus, nervousness cast its net upon her, wider and wider as she fixed her gaze on the constantly turning head of the doctor as he glanced at her through the window, and then back to his clipboard, and then back to her. Again. And again. And again.

“I apologize, Princess,” he said when he finally came back into the room. “I think we need to run some more tests.”

She treated him with an off-hoof nicety and a polite nod, but her heart wasn’t in it. Technical details, she would think, and her mind would agree with it. It had to be. That’s why they were running more tests, right? Because the machine had messed up. The magic was done wrong. Yes. That’s why. They had finally allowed a less experienced doctor to work with her.

And it’s about time, she thought with a giggle, though it didn’t quite hide the undertone of nervousness.

Celestia remained as still as she could as the doctor attached a menagerie of wires to her horn and forehead, the nurse sliding a small ringed mechanism to its base, just under the previous one, shutting it with a clack andencapsulating her horn with technology.

“My, my...this is new,” she said, giving a forced smile. The doctor smiled back, but it faded faster than it came. “Pulling out all the stops for this one, aren’t we?”

The doctor gave some twisted facsimile of a grin, before lending her the age old: “This won’t hurt one bit.”

And it didn’t, surprisingly. It was but a small comfort, easing her apprehension just enough to allow a quaint little smile to sneak onto her face.

Barely a few minutes later and it was over, the doctor and nurse unhooked her from the machine. They did the same dance, retreating to the back to look at her constantly, looking away when they met her eyes.

How tiring, but at least it added some spice to the normally boring procedures—however juvenile in taste that might have been of her. What if she had some sort of magical disease? Maybe she was going blind?

Wouldn’t that just be amazing, and she nearly giggled to herself at the thought.

Soon, the doctor was back, his eyes containing a strange glint, his voice, a pitch too high. “Will you come with me, please?”

Celestia was far too experienced to let her calm visage slip for more than a couple of heartbeats. She regally lowered herself from the examination bed, keeping decorum perfectly, but now she knew something was truly wrong, and she screamed questions inwardly. Until she heard a flurry of wing beats coming through a nearby window.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt a presence settle on her withers—an almost burning one. A quick glance back revealed a most unexpected sight; her pet and companion, Philomena, perched on her back. A “Squack,” was the extent of Philomena’s dialogue with Celestia, but the Phoenix possessed an authoritative, almost comforting aura that spread through her like the warmth of a hearth.

Her mind was silent as she trailed behind the doctor, who, for his part, only looked back at her thrice before they arrived at their destination. Pushing the door open, the doctor led her in and gestured at a lone seat in the corner, where she slowly sat down.

The doctor left again, not bothering to explain, and Celestia was once again left with her thoughts, a million questions, and Philomena. The phoenix briefly cuddled against her neck, then resumed her fiery vigil, warming the room considerably.

The door opened, and Luna walked in looking tired.

“Sister?” she groaned. “What’s this about? Is Philomena sick again?”

“Not to my knowledge… I was doing my yearly checkup.”

“It is that time of the year again? Time goes by so fast these days...” Luna trailed off, her eyes calculating, perhaps wondering what events she might have missed—but, Celestia was no mind reader, however much she wished she was, so she could only guess. Her sister could be so stoic sometimes.

And then, the doctor was by Celestia’s side again, somehow slipping through the door without a sound.

“So, uh, how are you feeling right now?” the doctor queried, practically in a plaintive whisper compared to the false congeniality he had been using previously. Celestia tried to exude calmness and congeniality.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Celestia shot him a tiny smile.

“So, to be as straight-forward as possible, how do you want me to handle this topic? Do you want me to lay it all out, or do you want to take it slow?”

Luna’s face went through a subtle storm of emotion at this, from worry and anxiety, to something else Celestia couldn’t identify, but in the end, it settled on that stoicism she was so used to seeing. There was definitely bad news on the way. Philomena didn’t react, but she rarely did in conversation. Had she known?

“Yes, of course.” Celestia replied, “Just lay everything out.” Clipped, straight to the point, just as the doctor had been.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that you have a…tumor growing at the base of your horn. It’s begun to press against your brain.”

Those who didn’t know luna would see no change in expression at all, but Celestia could tell she was shocked. Her eyes locked in forward position, staring into the distance. As for herself, Celestia felt empty. She waited for the chill of realization to set in, but there was nothing. Actually, not nothing. She felt warm. Hot, almost. Then, her vision was invaded with flames and majesty.

With her wings spread to their maximum extent, Philomena hovered before her with practiced control, flaming eyes boring into her own with fierce intensity. Celestia blinked reflexively, and then the warmth seemed to boil into her skin as the Phoenix departed through an open window to her left.

And then she was cold. Colder than she had ever been in her life—almost akin to that fateful night one-thousand years prior when she had banished her sister to the moon. Something else began to boil within her core though, almost an amalgamation of all the emotion she should have been feeling, and Luna turned to her sister in shock as it came out as an appalling giggle.

I’m dying. And then she asked, “Well, that certainly doesn’t sound good. I presume it is…terminal?”

“We can’t be sure of that.” Dolorous eyes met Celestia’s and she knew he was lying. Hadn’t they just agreed to be completely straightforward? It’s what she should’ve expected, given his status as a new doctor.

“We’ll do some research into new treatments, but so far options seem limited,” he continued. “I’m sure the prin- I mean the other princesses will have some ideas. In any case, you’ll have access to the best treatments available.”

The giggle came out again. She took a moment to compose herself and ponder before she replied.

“Well, fortunately, one of those Princesses just so happens to be in this room as we speak! Luna, what say you? Any ideas rattling around up there?”

Luna looked as though she was being dragged along the bottom of a river with no chance to catch a breath. Sparing a glance at Celestia, she responded:

“Yes, of course we will do everything we can. Between the four of us we hold considerable power, so we will be able to find a solution.”

Luna paused, and Celestia interjected with a thought.

“...The species Twilight was able to make contact with recently—It had some remarkable artifacts… Perhaps they would have a solution to the problem. What were they called, sister? Humanes? Humares?”

“Hoomans, sister.”