To Look at the Sunby MagLocalChaptersCount the Steps of the SunWeary of TimeTraveler's Journey, DoneCount the Steps of the SunLuna moves forward, and Twilight freezes, seeing the moon princess's questionable gift. “Wait a minute, didn’t you say Celestia hated sunflowers?” The younger sister lets out a polite hmph! On the steps to Celestia’s bed, bouquet just behind her head in this breeze-cooled bedroom: “Who said she hated them? I only said she severely disliked them.” Before Twilight can protest the semantics, Luna lightly taps Celestia on the horn, gently rolling her from the dream world. For it all began with Twilight's curiosity getting the better of her. “Why was there no sunflower competition, Princess Luna?” That catches the night princess off guard as Twilight finishes the checklist for her own coronation in a week’s time, both of them trotting through Canterlot Castle’s upper floors and halls minutes before the scheduled dawn. “The sunflower itself is rather bland compared to the indelible beauty of the royal rose or incomparable charm of the lovely tulip, Twilight.” “But it’s a sunflower! You know how ponies associate you with lavenders and how they help ponies sleep well, right? Surely, they would’ve made the connection: sunflower, Sun Princess, flower contests...” “Ah yes, you, Miss Berberis,” and Luna trots to a Saddle Arabian mare clothed with intricate designs-filled saddle and bit. Eyes a few crates she carries on her back. “I would like to have a bouquet of sunflowers, if you don’t mind.” The exchange is done with handsome pay, and Luna stuffs her muzzle in the bouquet, taking in their faint fragrance as yellow petals nuzzle her coat. After clearing her throat, “So you want to know about Celestia and sunflowers, do you not?” “Certainly, yes. I just thought, shouldn’t it be a simple matter?” Taking Luna’s lead, Twilight follows the lunar mare up a tower’s spiraling staircase. Rays of moonlight pierce through stained-glass windows, fashioning a soft rainbow spectacle to the top. A hint of lavender, and Twilight’s caffeine reserves dwindle, prompting her to yawn and stretch her wings. “Have you seen any sunflowers during your residence in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle?” It’s a quick check. Her ivory tower, the royal garden, other grassy places around Canterlot—and there were many thanks to all the fancy plants hanging around—“There were... no sunflowers during my stay here. Not as I remember now.” “And why do you think so? Is it not out of place that the sun princess herself has not hosted a sunflower judging contest in her honor?” “Ooh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there!” and Raven Inkwell backs up from her descent, bowing in respect for both princesses, and continues descending—“Wait, Princess Luna, are those...?” “Sunflowers, yes. You have a very keen eye for detail.” And the aide gulps, glancing up, towards the end of the tower. “...right.” Passing her by, the two princesses ascend the clockwise steps. “Tell me more about the sunflower, Twilight.” The official-princess-to-be rattles it off the top of her head: “Sunflowers—or at least the common sunflower, but many of its characteristics apply to other types of sunflowers—comprise the Helianthus genus. Unlike the tulip, sunflowers originated in Equestria proper, not from the northern lands of the pre-Equestrian tribes before they moved here as a result of the Windigos’ blizzard—“ “And there’s the first discrepancy. If they originated here, sunflowers should be everywhere in modern-day Equestria, no?” Twilight nods. “In fact, some species of sunflowers are invasive such as the swamp sunflower and may be treated as weeds—“ “Then why do you think sunflowers are rather uncommon these days?” Nothing comes to mind. Away from that, just a minute more or so and the two of them will finish climbing the staircase and reach the top, reach her room— “When we were filly royals-in-training, raised up by councilors and instructors, sunflowers used to be as abundant as lilacs, daisies, and daffodils. My sister did notice how sunflower buds would follow the sun to obtain as many nutrients as possible from the sun’s light; heliotropism, that is the scientific term. But, unlike with most other fillies, this curious characteristic scared the living daylights out of my sister.” “Scared her?” and Twilight’s voice drips with stupefaction. “Celestia? Scared of sunflowers?” “But it makes sense. Celestia’s solar magic is tied to the sun’s very nature. Thus, it is only sensible that sunflower buds and even mature sunflowers would not only face the sun but would also—“ here she chuckles “—face her as well.” And Twilight blushes, stifling her own chuckle as the end of their climb is in sight—solid flat floor. “So the sunflowers just faced her like she was the sun? That’s like thinking some painting’s eyes were following you around!” She laughs at her own image of sunflowers leaning to the left and to the right while Celestia gallops around, screaming like a little filly as she fled the adorable things. “It was indeed fun and games when we were young. It was a cause of joking and pranks from foals her age. I, too, joined in the fun. “But as she grew up and as our regents took more of our once free time, that fear grew into… severe dislike, as she put it. The sunflowers were not just following her around anymore. They were watching her, distracting her for many nefarious yet imaginary purposes she had concocted in her fear-addled mind.” Luna looks up. Nearing the roof, the top; half a minute to go. “When we began our rule together after defeating Discord, the sunflower was the most popular floral gift for the average pony to lift up to us. There was indeed the obvious sunflower-Celestia connection, but it had also become well known that sunflowers turned round to face her when she was nearby. No other flower did that to anyone, let alone to one of the princesses, so why not gift something as special as that to your dear leader? She did wear a most indomitable iron mask, so although she loathed the sunflowers on the inside, she kept up appearances. As far as anypony knew, Celestia graciously accepted sunflowers as much as all other floral gifts.” “And Celestia then made sure that, slowly and surely, she liked other flowers too, and everyone else would get the memo and start sending her other flowers. Right, Princess Luna?” The royal duo step off the stairway and trot down one more spacious hallway, hoofsteps echoing off the prized marble. At the end of it, a massive pair of doors emblazoned with a stylized sun. “Yes, though some radical devotees to my sister, when they themselves figured out what she thought, sought to burn the sunflowers simply because they were imperfect reflections of her majesty. Environmental iconoclasts, if I do say so myself… but now we’re here.” And Luna pulls on the handles with her magic, opening the golden doors. There, tucked in her on-a-pedestal bed and adorned with the sun and moon chiseled in her furniture’s design, Celestia sleeps, her pillow propping her head up as her nighttime throne. A silk canopy over her cooled face, an unburned fireplace on the side—for the will-be princess, mentally seeing Celestia writing letters on precious parchment, replying to her friendship lessons—a twilight breeze graces her to cool her head as well. Luna makes her move, stepping forward. “Greetings, sister!” she whispers in a familiar, happy whisper. Violet though never-groggy eyes flutter before her. “May I interest you in a pleasant surprise?” Framed by her moving mane of the dawn sky, Celestia fully opens her eyes, releasing herself into the realm of the living. “Sister, seeing you here every morning is always a pleasant surprise—“ Something stuck in her throat. Sunflowers, hanging by Luna’s head. The magic shifts colors and owners, Luna’s blue into Celestia’s gold. Without moving a hoof, Celestia turns the bouquet around in her magic, rotating the stems to analyze the object from every angle. No matter how she turns them, the flowers turn their heads to face her, to always look upon her sun-blessed face. “They are… flowers, yes, Lulu.” “Yes, dear Celie. These flowers are flowers indeed.” In the background, a yet unnoticed but lip-biting Twilight, struggling to contain her laughter but also watching herself in case Celestia screams and bashes the bouquet into non-existence. “They are truly wonderful. There is just one thing I would like to add to it so it shall become the best gift ever.” Something hopeful on Luna’s muzzle. “And what would that be?” Celestia answers with a silent smile. Her magic brightens, and it warms the flowers, now no longer cold. Against the room’s nightly cold, she feels the sunflowers’ increasing warmth, smells their warming smell, her stomach hungering for a grilled daisy sandwich. Her heart warms, and her smile, unbroken, though her eyes glisten like mad. Sunflowers still heating up, she turns to the fireplace, periphery vision swirling with stars past a nearby window— Weary of TimeAs glimmers of chilly moonlight grace the newly-renovated Castle of the Two Sisters, a bearded old wizard leads an alicorn filly into a royal garden. A haven of greenery with shrubs everywhere, blooming with berries and flowers (and many flowers do lay here), some even sprouting from bonsai on their fancy pots—Mage Meadowbrook called them that, saying they hail from Mistmane’s homeland. Their leaves and petals shine in the light of the moon as knocks and bangs resonate across the castle, workers preparing the grand edifice for the young alicorns’ years-ahead coronation and rule. The filly laughs and runs around: lots of pretty plants to look at! Touches the leaves of each one and speaking out their differences, admiring the thin yet sturdy bark of the tiny trees, licking the petals of a delicious daisy— “Stop it, you foal! Those flowers were hoof-picked to showcase Equestria’s grandeur! They are not snacks!” and Star Swirl smacks himself on the forehead, tipping his hat backwards. “When your mother told me you’d eat fodder straight from the ground, I assumed she was being metaphorical.” She stiffens at the mention of Mother. “If I eat enough apples from the ground—“ “No, your parents will not come back from the dead if you do that. Now tell me, have you seen everything in this gar—” She freezes. Head raised, stock still, unaware of Star Swirl’s approaching hoofsteps. “Ah. Your greatest fear, I presume?” And he smirks at the monsters she beholds. Terror floods her veins, heart pumps too fast, mane and tail stop in alarm as they watch her— “Agh!” And she clings onto Star Swirl’s robe for protection, a blanket to hide her from those things, the bogeymares straight out of her evil dreams. “I only see sunflowers, Celestia.” A condescending snicker as he scratches his beard, appearing wise in his mirth. “You should be proud. The average pony does not possess such a power, the power to be the sun to these sunflowers.” “B-but they’re creepy!” She pulls the robe tighter, blocking out her vision. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me! “They might get me, they might eat me, and I can’t—“ “Wait.” And she stops. Loosens her grip on the robe for Star Swirl will save the day. Sees nothing but the stars and crescents of his robe, ears tickled by the jingling of its bells. “This is an opportunity for an object lesson. See, it’s been a week since you’ve been designated to the throne—not any mere fiefdom’s throne, but the throne over all thrones, the dual throne of Equestria. Am I right?” Celestia answers with a slow, scared nod. “Then why are you afraid of sunflowers?” And she shivers under his robe of comfort. “B-because they’re… th-they watch me! Flowers don’t watch me! And ponies think I’m weird because they watch me!” “Ponies treat you like royalty.” “But the flowers won’t stop watching me!” “But ponies will.” That gets Celestia smiling a little, to stop shivering. “Yeah! Like… they were happy when I raise the sun! And when Lulu lowers the moon!” “Yes, but when you’ll really become princesses, you’ll do more than just raise the sun and lower the moon.” And he takes a step closer to the flowers. A step away from Celestia, the robe of safety and protection slipping from her hooves and her magic. “S-Star Swirl?! N-no! Don’t take me to the baddies!” and she holds on, unknowingly dragging herself to certain doom. “There are things more worthy of fear than these pathetic sunflowers!” Another step closer, another scared squeal from the filly. “You had to start your royal upbringing ahead of schedule because jealous pretenders tried to kill you two and nicked your mother and father instead!” “Mommy, daddy?!” Choking in her throat, eyes darting everywhere for two missing ponies, if they were hiding behind the bushes or some of the small trees—“Are mommy and daddy—?“ “Anyway, there are cruel souls out there willing to kill foals for their own gain... but beyond assassins and would-be murderers, there is the weighty responsibility you and your sister shall hold.” Another step closer on the cobblestone, towards the sunflowers. They watch, they follow, ignorant of her whimpering and begging. “Take me away, S-Star Swirl! As future princess, I-I command you! They might... they might eat me!” “Sunflowers won’t eat you!” and he tugs the robe towards the yellow petals of death, pulling the scared filly by sheer magic strength. “But something greater will eat your soul if you are careless: hundreds of thousands of ponies out there, watching your every move—and why do they watch you? Just as the sun provides nourishment and light to these flowers and just as a mother is nourishment and light to her children, so shall you be to your subjects who shall depend on you for nourishment, light, guidance—“ “But ponies aren’t sunflowers! Th-they won’t eat me!” Only inches away from stems furnishing devastation, biding their time until their target is at its nearest. Sunflowers, drooping to face Celestia, but now their faces are the muzzles and mouths and eyes of her subjects, depending on her, counting on her— “But ponies will look up to you and Luna all the same, and that is not to mention bad actors. You are very fortunate that those miscreants did not kill you. Still, they wanted to kill you. They won’t be the last ones, surely. Not a few are those who will try to manipulate you, to try to kill you for nothing more than the power you hold by mere accident. “If you are not ready for that, young one...” The sunflowers glow in his gray magic, floating from the soil, grisly roots exposed. They fly at her. “Agh!” Their angry little non-existent faces, gunning for her. Magic firing, horn firing everywhere, magic rays bouncing off, to burn, to sizzle, to annihilate, remove the threat, protect her, keep her safe, to stay alive, running, galloping, adrenaline crushing her, distant hoofsteps of guards coming to rescue her— A whooshing wing over her. “Celie!” And Luna hugs her. That blue face of grace. “Wh-what happened?! Why are there... sunflowers burning everywhere?” Celestia opens her eyes, smells the fire and hears ponies spraying water over the flames, but in her tears, she doesn’t hear Star Swirl’s chastisement, of teaching her not to be afraid, of having to improve her magic reflexes. Hears only the soft words of her sister, of comfort, just like her mother, just like her own voice: “Don’t worry, Celie. I got—“ “—your back on this, right, dear sister?” And at the top of the tower though not yet at the balcony, Celestia, in her full-grown regal form, dons her royal gold crown and peytral, full-blown dawn-sky mane and tail flowing by wind not there. “You’ve always got my back,” she answers her sister. And Luna, her appearance just like the night sky but with a touch of the imperial in her own black regalia, flaps her wings and turns on her magic, touching the curtains from afar. “Then let’s inaugurate this kingdom together.” The two sisters trot past the tower’s curtains, entering the balcony and the too-long night-into-twilight outside. They are blasted by the applause of the crowd far below, raising their heads towards their ruler-saviors, illuminated by a bevy of lanterns and torches by too few tents for those camping out in Equestria’s new capital of Everfree, all out there for the few days since Discord’s defeat and liberation from decades of chaotic destruction. When the speech of freedom is said and done, the princesses lift their bodies up, flying without flapping their wings, and their horns glow to end the night, lowering the moon and lifting the sun to herald a glorious morning, all to the praise and joyous stomps of the populace. Luna gives her sister a tug on the withers. “What do you have planned for the morning? I, for one, shall enjoy the ‘late night’ festivities for a little longer.” Celestia can’t help but laugh at her festive sibling. “The mead hall?” “Why, you know me so well!” and Luna wraps her closer for a wing hug. “Which leaves you with collecting everypony’s gifts for us, right?” “Right, dear sister.” And the two fly their separate ways, Luna towards the castle’s mead hall to quaff ale with her citizens while Celestia swoops down to an open public square where everypony gathers, landing on a huge pedestal guarded by soldiers whose armors sparkle under the sun. The rambunctious assembly quickly form themselves into as much of an orderly line as possible. Despite the guards’ demands for formality, more than a few ponies manage to throw flowers and bouquets at their beloved eminence. Most of them are sunflowers. Barely a lavender in sight, though her heart warms for each of those sleepy little plants. Keep a smile, a simple smile despite the number of weird and disgusting sunflowers entering her life. No need to remember that one time Discord chased her down a maze with nothing but sunflowers growing out of the hedges and watching her all the time like “some Panopticon’s security cameras,” whatever the draconequus meant by— “Oh, look! It moves! The heads follow her around!” “Why, yes! The sunflowers turn to look at her wherever she goes! Could it be—?” “Of course! She is more than fit to lead this mighty kingdom, so say the sunflowers—and the skies!” Celestia briskly moves on to the rest of the gifts, to those more worthy of her time and less likely to stress her out by their mere presence: statuettes and commemorative plates, paintings and poems, songs and dance... A break after an hour of gifts, so she retires from the now organized crowd into the sky, flying close to the castle’s wall and then perching on top of another tower—an observatory, some sleeping astronomer’s hiding place—and she knows what to say to the pony just now perching beside her: “Are you drunk yet?” Luna titters, flapping her wings in place. “Augh, no! What makes you think that, Celie?” “That bitter breath of yours?” “’Tis but a flesh wound on my sobriety!” Then, eyeing her, “Besides, I smell a bit of... hah, what did they give you at first?” An uneasy sigh. Looks to the ponies below, many already watching the alicorns sit up there like eagles. “A few sunflowers.” “Hmph. They still do not know that you hate them to the core, do they?” “Not especially after they finally noticed the sunflowers’... well, interesting behavior when they’re around me.” Luna resists the urge to use the Royal Canterlot Voice in her laughter. “Haven’t burned any of them yet?” “No. That would be impolite.” And Luna lightly punches her on the withers, laughing all the way and catching stray looks from below. With lowered voice, “Oh, come on! That’d be a spectacle! See it all burn down... good for a fireplace while you read some scrolls, right?” Celestia replies with a smile, rubbing the little pain on her back. Her sister is certainly stronger than she looks— —yet the fight went in Celestia’s favor, and Luna’s corrupted face was etched on the moon for all to see. The advisers and councilors told her to carry on, to keep calm. There were many ponies asking for an explanation, wondering what happened to the now delayed inaugural Summer Sun Celebration to celebrate a century of peace after Discord’s imprisonment—with the Winter Moon Fair originally slated for six months after that. Of course, her advisors shut that idea down once they discovered what happened with Nightmare Moon. She intended to extol her sister, to not leave her out, with the Celebration speech. Now, it was sole self-idolatry mandated by the masses, though she does not fail to mention Luna as a true sister over the decades right to the bitter end. While a few wept, many cheered. Shouts of traitor and backstabber erupted at the first mention of Luna’s name before guards quieted the rabble. After the speech and Celestia ushering in the year’s longest day, they showered the lone monarch with gifts. Many flowers found their way into her sight—roses, lilies, tulips, and daisies, along with more exotic varieties such as precious amaryllises and rare campions. But sunflowers kept cropping up. Soon, an army of happy yellow sunshines faced her wherever she went, much to the audience’s amazement and fawning over. As peaceful soldiers, they stood, saluting the solar mare. One pony was sent to the dungeon for stomping on some lavenders in the name of Princess Celestia. “She shouldn’t have ruled at all!” mumbled a subject as the criminal was hauled to his prison, so Celestia overheard. “Look at how many ponies go to Princess Celestia’s court compared to that reprobate! Most of the nocturnals didn’t even bother going to her court!” “Nightlife is just debauchery these days,” declared another. “Drinking, partying in taverns to revel in hedonism all night long... Luna went around like a pagan sensualist! We can’t have a sick pleasure seeker represent us! What we need is a statesmare!” “If Celestia can handle both sun and moon, why do we need this Nightmare Moon anyway?” piped in one more. “She should be vilified, denounced everywhere! Turning against her own sister just because she was jealous of all the attention she got! Ssurely, Celestia was patient with her to the very end, and yet—!” Celestia’s smile remained. Her smile remains as she looks down a cliff not too far from Canterlot. All she said was that she’d fly around, to clear her head from all the chaos of the past six hours. No one followed her. No one knew she went here. She dives down the cliff, wind attacking her being, carrying her down by the wings like a weightless leaf streaming down a river, wings pulling her weight as she pulls a hefty wagon behind her, a wagon filled with nothing but sunflowers. Alone in the ravine, just her and the wagon, deep in with the rocks and the crags, buffeted by the howling of dry wind. None, not even a sharp-eyed griffon, to see her as she creeps closer to a cave where she can conceal herself. She looks at the sunflowers she’s pushed against the cragged cracks of stone walls. Turns on her horn to feel the sunflowers in her magic grip—the petals, their soft and innocent petals, unaware of the boiling blood racing through her wrathful veins, fueling her hot tears. The face of ignorance. The face of murder, of power-hungry killers and manipulators. The face of her sister’s death. The heavy face of all who look up to her. Tears glisten as a great conflagration whisks the cart of faces away, away from her burning sight, her body warmed by floral devastation as the sunflowers crackle under merciless flames, their petals curling and charring, too much sun in their eyes— Sister... Her head shoots up, ears perking, falling in the half-remembered daydream— “Sister?” And Celestia turns to Luna who bade Twilight a goodbye. Something burning— “You decided to burn the logs,” and Luna gestures to the fireplace. “Not the flowers, most fortunately, else that might have done a number on Twilight, knowing how highly she sees you.” A bar floats across the door’s handles, locking the sisters inside. “Is something the matter, Celie?” There, the sunflowers lie on her nightstand. Looking innocently, looking at her innocently, facing her as logs crackle under the fire, their yellows shining under the sun. With a nod, Luna levitates the bouquet in her magic grip, bringing it closer to her sister. The flowers then turn around to face their pony sun. “It has to do with this, is it not?” A heavy sigh, carrying a millennium’s worth of weight. Her heavy head lowers as if cracking under a yoke. “I haven’t seen these for almost five years, save for the rare painting...” “And you were thinking of burning them?” She does not answer that. Celestia clenches her jaw, holds the sunflowers in her grip. Stares at their eyeless faces. And they stare back, unknowing and innocent. Nothing runs through their non-existent minds, only a bio-magical response to a solar anomaly, the sun’s essence in something else—in someone—other than the sun. The flowers do not recognize this. They just look, eager for light. “You... you have done no evil, little ones.” Without looking, she magically opens a cabinet to take out a vase and water can, lifting the flowers from the bouquet. How the water shines under the sun as they pour into the vase and fill the stems—! Traveler's Journey, DoneFrom stone to grass, soil. Florenza feels it in her hooves from the sudden teleport. Her hometown's early morning hustling and bustling hoofsteps and chatter, vanished, replaced by melodious harmonies of birds perched on ancient trees’ branches. One second, she was talking to a familiar yet surprising face, hoping to sell her more of her precious and prized sunflowers she's grown all her life—the next, she's far from home in an alien forest, almost alone. For answers, she looks to her teleporter: Celestia, clad in plain yellow robe, unfazed. The former princess peers past a few trees, looks behind her as hooves step on newly-dewed grass. “I ask if you can keep this place clean, you and others who are more than willing to care for this sacred place—to let it flourish with the prettiest of flowers you can find.” Florenza’s rubbernecking head takes in the forest’s plenty of bushes, flowers, little animals running around. A bird lands on her brown mane and staring curiously at her sunflower cutie mark. “I can do that, especially for a pony who’s served us well for such a long time… but why do you call this sacred? I don’t see much here other than a good forest.” Celestia nods, knowing, before departing the copse of trees. Ahead of her, an opening. A circle of no trees, a circle where the sun shines like a huge spotlight. A wide swath of open, untouched grass, of cool air and birds flying around to welcome the two visitors to this holy site. A tombstone lies in the center. Hoof to her mouth, a shocked Florenza trots on three legs, approaching the sign of death. She tunes out the too-happy birdsongs. A closer look, the deceased’s cutie mark etched on stone— “Star Swirl… the Bearded?” Celestia nods again. Inches away from the stone, she goes, “We had the funeral here last night. Not much was said given the extraordinary circumstances of his being here in the first place. He and the Pillars… it is a miracle that they’ve made it to this time. Thus, our appreciation was better left unsaid. Our actions, hopefully, spoke louder than words.” Said actions still speak at the foot of the stone. Books, scrolls, his hat and cloak enchanted by a spell to ward off dust and dirt for many years to come. A few flowers. “We have not announced his death, though we’ve notified Princess Twilight. She will make it public tomorrow once it’s been decided what to do with his possessions.” In silence, those actions—these gifts—speak on, accompanied by a morning breeze and the tweeting of birds farther off. “So… which of these did you give him?” A hoof gesturing towards the gifts, retracts. “I did not give him anything. Not back then. But after some thought, there was something...“ And out of her saddlebag, a flower. A sunflower. Florenza’s eyes widen in surprise. “The sunflower you paid for back in the Royal Flower Contest a few days ago!” But Celestia pays her no heed as she levitates the sunflower to the ground, surrounding it with soil. A touch of her hoof to release Earth pony magic, binding the sunflower to the ground, rooting it there as if this forest were its home. The sunflower still stares at Celestia all that time, now raising its head as she stands up from her tiny act of gardening. “B-but… so it’s not true what they say, that you don’t like sunflowers?” A blush, a scratch at the back of her golden head. “I’m sorry if that was… um, you were a princess, after all.” A regal chuckle is the first part of her answer. “There is truth to the rumor. They used to scare me so much, yes, following me around since I was a filly. Sadly, I ended up hating it for darker reasons, especially after I had to banish my own sister and ponies gave me sunflowers but not a single flower that Luna loved...” She shakes her head, sparkly mane flapping in slow motion. “Over a thousand years, mistakes and regrets pile up. No doubt my sins have haunted me for so long. Even the sins of others, I recall in vivid detail. “But sooner or later, I have come to realize: is not the sun the bringer of the new day, the harbinger of something new—a chance to begin again and to do good?” She stoops down again, gracing the sunflower with her head. The former princess, the sun mare herself— She pats the flower on the petals. It responds by continuing to stare at the solar pony, without understanding. “And so, in a thing I used to despise, something good shall reign. I shall rise to give it good meaning, a good symbol. It is childish of me to be enslaved to a bunch of happy flowers, after all, and I shall begin in an outrageous way: that even in death—“ points to the tomb then to the lonely sunflower “—there can be life.” And she turns to Florenza, hoof to chest, to impart something from the bottom of her heart. “And that is why you are here. The rest of the Pillars will not live forever, and all of them choose not to do so. They’ve all expressed a desire to be buried here with him, and maybe more of Equestria’s modern heroes shall be buried here as well when their time comes. “But I do not want this to be just a place of death. I want this to be a place of life, hence the flowers. The tombs shall only be the center. From this and beyond, there shall be flowers, a garden, fountains, a gazebo or two—so that we do not just remember their deaths but also the life they’ve given us.” Florenza nods at that, heartwarming sorrow piercing her heart, sniffling now, wiping tears away. “That’s... that’s good... it’s all good, I believe so... and I think I can assemble a troupe of ponies from my place for starters and we can grow from there. I assume you want sunflowers with them, too, right?” Celestia turns away, nodding and saying yes to everything. But she stops, locking eyes with that fatal stone. “Florenza, do you know someone who can make two cenotaphs?” The florist cocks her head to the side. “A cenotaph?” “A tomb, a memorial, for somepony whose body is not there.” And Florenza blinks, taken aback. “But who would they be for? Who else died recently?” Celestia still locks eyes with that stone, hiding from Florenza her watery eyes as she stares into the sun and beyond. “Oh, they did not die recently. It was a long, long time ago...” The couple do not care for anything back home. Not now, not in this new morning in fields of gold where no one can see nor bother them. They just told the town, the council of sun-raising unicorns and the mayor and everypony else of importance that they need time to think, to reflect, before making any decision on their newborn children. Mother caresses her twin daughters—different and not identical twins, already a curiosity unheard of among the lands. She now both curses and blesses herself for watching the council raise the sun together, of having her offspring be close enough to such deep pools of magic that they sprouted something new, somehow moved the sun and moon on their own to usher in this same new morning. Alicorns. Or pegacorns. The name doesn’t matter. All Mother was told was that they were the three tribes in one. A miracle. Divine. Father had a strong enough hoof to draw the line. “It is useless to act in haste!” he said to everypony asking him to hurry to the capital so Equestria’s leaders can deliberate on this miracle. “What you will do with our foals this week will save or doom us all, so shut your mouths and leave us alone!” Nopony bothered them from then on, but nopony expected them to just backtrack a little and retreat in some nearby wheat field. The family now trot through the fields. It was getting too itchy for the foals, and they were about to cry. Mother hushes them as she holds the foals with her hoof while Father leads the way. A field of flowers, a little garden; natural or pony-made, they do not know. To the foals, it does not matter for they stretch their hooves out to the pretty plants, enamored by the pretty petals. And hungry. Father picks some flowers and crushes them in a bowl he brought along, crushing them into foal-edible mush. “Ah,” and he takes off two flowers by the stem, one by one. “Here is... another sign. I know the augurs gave the two of them daffodils and lilies to consecrate their births, but considering what’s happened this morning...” Mother picks them up, holding them close. Feels their soft petals as her foals stretch their hooves out to these new playthings. “A sunflower to symbolize the day’s vitality and a lavender to aid in one’s slumber. How... appropriate. This is no mere coincidence, is it?” The foals finally wrest the flowers from her grasp, toying with the petals, sucking on the stems, trying to eat the stem but failing for lack of teeth. She looks on, unaware of one foal already smelling of lavenders, already yawning though it is just morning. The other, curiously then delightfully giggling at how it looks at her like her parents do as she throws the plant high into the air, watching it fall down gracefully like a feather, that flower always facing her wherever it falls. “Sun and moon,” Father says. “I guess that settles our naming dispute, then?” A cleared throat later, “Shall we name them Sunflower and Lavender? Single words as well, fit for ponies that are clearly uncommon.” Mother smiles, too, yet—“They raised the sun and lowered the moon. Flowers won’t be enough for them.” “Then what shall we name them?” With a soft sun-blessed smile, she rests her eyes upon her offspring. “We name them after the sun and moon, after the cosmos themselves.” “The cosmos themselves?” He gazes upward, beholding the baby blue sky in all its innocent magnificence. “The celestial, the lunar...” Mother snuggles her foals, cuddling them with her muzzle. In one fell swoop, she pulls Father closer into a one tight family hug, their foals cooing and cackling at this affection. “We don’t know what’s in store for you, Celestia and Luna, but... if Harmony has made you alicorns, then she shall take you to places untold. May Harmony protect you, and may she bless you over all your days and nights.” For a moment, holding onto sunflower and lavender, onto each other, Celestia and Luna understand.
Count the Steps of the SunLuna moves forward, and Twilight freezes, seeing the moon princess's questionable gift. “Wait a minute, didn’t you say Celestia hated sunflowers?” The younger sister lets out a polite hmph! On the steps to Celestia’s bed, bouquet just behind her head in this breeze-cooled bedroom: “Who said she hated them? I only said she severely disliked them.” Before Twilight can protest the semantics, Luna lightly taps Celestia on the horn, gently rolling her from the dream world. For it all began with Twilight's curiosity getting the better of her. “Why was there no sunflower competition, Princess Luna?” That catches the night princess off guard as Twilight finishes the checklist for her own coronation in a week’s time, both of them trotting through Canterlot Castle’s upper floors and halls minutes before the scheduled dawn. “The sunflower itself is rather bland compared to the indelible beauty of the royal rose or incomparable charm of the lovely tulip, Twilight.” “But it’s a sunflower! You know how ponies associate you with lavenders and how they help ponies sleep well, right? Surely, they would’ve made the connection: sunflower, Sun Princess, flower contests...” “Ah yes, you, Miss Berberis,” and Luna trots to a Saddle Arabian mare clothed with intricate designs-filled saddle and bit. Eyes a few crates she carries on her back. “I would like to have a bouquet of sunflowers, if you don’t mind.” The exchange is done with handsome pay, and Luna stuffs her muzzle in the bouquet, taking in their faint fragrance as yellow petals nuzzle her coat. After clearing her throat, “So you want to know about Celestia and sunflowers, do you not?” “Certainly, yes. I just thought, shouldn’t it be a simple matter?” Taking Luna’s lead, Twilight follows the lunar mare up a tower’s spiraling staircase. Rays of moonlight pierce through stained-glass windows, fashioning a soft rainbow spectacle to the top. A hint of lavender, and Twilight’s caffeine reserves dwindle, prompting her to yawn and stretch her wings. “Have you seen any sunflowers during your residence in Canterlot, Twilight Sparkle?” It’s a quick check. Her ivory tower, the royal garden, other grassy places around Canterlot—and there were many thanks to all the fancy plants hanging around—“There were... no sunflowers during my stay here. Not as I remember now.” “And why do you think so? Is it not out of place that the sun princess herself has not hosted a sunflower judging contest in her honor?” “Ooh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there!” and Raven Inkwell backs up from her descent, bowing in respect for both princesses, and continues descending—“Wait, Princess Luna, are those...?” “Sunflowers, yes. You have a very keen eye for detail.” And the aide gulps, glancing up, towards the end of the tower. “...right.” Passing her by, the two princesses ascend the clockwise steps. “Tell me more about the sunflower, Twilight.” The official-princess-to-be rattles it off the top of her head: “Sunflowers—or at least the common sunflower, but many of its characteristics apply to other types of sunflowers—comprise the Helianthus genus. Unlike the tulip, sunflowers originated in Equestria proper, not from the northern lands of the pre-Equestrian tribes before they moved here as a result of the Windigos’ blizzard—“ “And there’s the first discrepancy. If they originated here, sunflowers should be everywhere in modern-day Equestria, no?” Twilight nods. “In fact, some species of sunflowers are invasive such as the swamp sunflower and may be treated as weeds—“ “Then why do you think sunflowers are rather uncommon these days?” Nothing comes to mind. Away from that, just a minute more or so and the two of them will finish climbing the staircase and reach the top, reach her room— “When we were filly royals-in-training, raised up by councilors and instructors, sunflowers used to be as abundant as lilacs, daisies, and daffodils. My sister did notice how sunflower buds would follow the sun to obtain as many nutrients as possible from the sun’s light; heliotropism, that is the scientific term. But, unlike with most other fillies, this curious characteristic scared the living daylights out of my sister.” “Scared her?” and Twilight’s voice drips with stupefaction. “Celestia? Scared of sunflowers?” “But it makes sense. Celestia’s solar magic is tied to the sun’s very nature. Thus, it is only sensible that sunflower buds and even mature sunflowers would not only face the sun but would also—“ here she chuckles “—face her as well.” And Twilight blushes, stifling her own chuckle as the end of their climb is in sight—solid flat floor. “So the sunflowers just faced her like she was the sun? That’s like thinking some painting’s eyes were following you around!” She laughs at her own image of sunflowers leaning to the left and to the right while Celestia gallops around, screaming like a little filly as she fled the adorable things. “It was indeed fun and games when we were young. It was a cause of joking and pranks from foals her age. I, too, joined in the fun. “But as she grew up and as our regents took more of our once free time, that fear grew into… severe dislike, as she put it. The sunflowers were not just following her around anymore. They were watching her, distracting her for many nefarious yet imaginary purposes she had concocted in her fear-addled mind.” Luna looks up. Nearing the roof, the top; half a minute to go. “When we began our rule together after defeating Discord, the sunflower was the most popular floral gift for the average pony to lift up to us. There was indeed the obvious sunflower-Celestia connection, but it had also become well known that sunflowers turned round to face her when she was nearby. No other flower did that to anyone, let alone to one of the princesses, so why not gift something as special as that to your dear leader? She did wear a most indomitable iron mask, so although she loathed the sunflowers on the inside, she kept up appearances. As far as anypony knew, Celestia graciously accepted sunflowers as much as all other floral gifts.” “And Celestia then made sure that, slowly and surely, she liked other flowers too, and everyone else would get the memo and start sending her other flowers. Right, Princess Luna?” The royal duo step off the stairway and trot down one more spacious hallway, hoofsteps echoing off the prized marble. At the end of it, a massive pair of doors emblazoned with a stylized sun. “Yes, though some radical devotees to my sister, when they themselves figured out what she thought, sought to burn the sunflowers simply because they were imperfect reflections of her majesty. Environmental iconoclasts, if I do say so myself… but now we’re here.” And Luna pulls on the handles with her magic, opening the golden doors. There, tucked in her on-a-pedestal bed and adorned with the sun and moon chiseled in her furniture’s design, Celestia sleeps, her pillow propping her head up as her nighttime throne. A silk canopy over her cooled face, an unburned fireplace on the side—for the will-be princess, mentally seeing Celestia writing letters on precious parchment, replying to her friendship lessons—a twilight breeze graces her to cool her head as well. Luna makes her move, stepping forward. “Greetings, sister!” she whispers in a familiar, happy whisper. Violet though never-groggy eyes flutter before her. “May I interest you in a pleasant surprise?” Framed by her moving mane of the dawn sky, Celestia fully opens her eyes, releasing herself into the realm of the living. “Sister, seeing you here every morning is always a pleasant surprise—“ Something stuck in her throat. Sunflowers, hanging by Luna’s head. The magic shifts colors and owners, Luna’s blue into Celestia’s gold. Without moving a hoof, Celestia turns the bouquet around in her magic, rotating the stems to analyze the object from every angle. No matter how she turns them, the flowers turn their heads to face her, to always look upon her sun-blessed face. “They are… flowers, yes, Lulu.” “Yes, dear Celie. These flowers are flowers indeed.” In the background, a yet unnoticed but lip-biting Twilight, struggling to contain her laughter but also watching herself in case Celestia screams and bashes the bouquet into non-existence. “They are truly wonderful. There is just one thing I would like to add to it so it shall become the best gift ever.” Something hopeful on Luna’s muzzle. “And what would that be?” Celestia answers with a silent smile. Her magic brightens, and it warms the flowers, now no longer cold. Against the room’s nightly cold, she feels the sunflowers’ increasing warmth, smells their warming smell, her stomach hungering for a grilled daisy sandwich. Her heart warms, and her smile, unbroken, though her eyes glisten like mad. Sunflowers still heating up, she turns to the fireplace, periphery vision swirling with stars past a nearby window—
Weary of TimeAs glimmers of chilly moonlight grace the newly-renovated Castle of the Two Sisters, a bearded old wizard leads an alicorn filly into a royal garden. A haven of greenery with shrubs everywhere, blooming with berries and flowers (and many flowers do lay here), some even sprouting from bonsai on their fancy pots—Mage Meadowbrook called them that, saying they hail from Mistmane’s homeland. Their leaves and petals shine in the light of the moon as knocks and bangs resonate across the castle, workers preparing the grand edifice for the young alicorns’ years-ahead coronation and rule. The filly laughs and runs around: lots of pretty plants to look at! Touches the leaves of each one and speaking out their differences, admiring the thin yet sturdy bark of the tiny trees, licking the petals of a delicious daisy— “Stop it, you foal! Those flowers were hoof-picked to showcase Equestria’s grandeur! They are not snacks!” and Star Swirl smacks himself on the forehead, tipping his hat backwards. “When your mother told me you’d eat fodder straight from the ground, I assumed she was being metaphorical.” She stiffens at the mention of Mother. “If I eat enough apples from the ground—“ “No, your parents will not come back from the dead if you do that. Now tell me, have you seen everything in this gar—” She freezes. Head raised, stock still, unaware of Star Swirl’s approaching hoofsteps. “Ah. Your greatest fear, I presume?” And he smirks at the monsters she beholds. Terror floods her veins, heart pumps too fast, mane and tail stop in alarm as they watch her— “Agh!” And she clings onto Star Swirl’s robe for protection, a blanket to hide her from those things, the bogeymares straight out of her evil dreams. “I only see sunflowers, Celestia.” A condescending snicker as he scratches his beard, appearing wise in his mirth. “You should be proud. The average pony does not possess such a power, the power to be the sun to these sunflowers.” “B-but they’re creepy!” She pulls the robe tighter, blocking out her vision. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me! “They might get me, they might eat me, and I can’t—“ “Wait.” And she stops. Loosens her grip on the robe for Star Swirl will save the day. Sees nothing but the stars and crescents of his robe, ears tickled by the jingling of its bells. “This is an opportunity for an object lesson. See, it’s been a week since you’ve been designated to the throne—not any mere fiefdom’s throne, but the throne over all thrones, the dual throne of Equestria. Am I right?” Celestia answers with a slow, scared nod. “Then why are you afraid of sunflowers?” And she shivers under his robe of comfort. “B-because they’re… th-they watch me! Flowers don’t watch me! And ponies think I’m weird because they watch me!” “Ponies treat you like royalty.” “But the flowers won’t stop watching me!” “But ponies will.” That gets Celestia smiling a little, to stop shivering. “Yeah! Like… they were happy when I raise the sun! And when Lulu lowers the moon!” “Yes, but when you’ll really become princesses, you’ll do more than just raise the sun and lower the moon.” And he takes a step closer to the flowers. A step away from Celestia, the robe of safety and protection slipping from her hooves and her magic. “S-Star Swirl?! N-no! Don’t take me to the baddies!” and she holds on, unknowingly dragging herself to certain doom. “There are things more worthy of fear than these pathetic sunflowers!” Another step closer, another scared squeal from the filly. “You had to start your royal upbringing ahead of schedule because jealous pretenders tried to kill you two and nicked your mother and father instead!” “Mommy, daddy?!” Choking in her throat, eyes darting everywhere for two missing ponies, if they were hiding behind the bushes or some of the small trees—“Are mommy and daddy—?“ “Anyway, there are cruel souls out there willing to kill foals for their own gain... but beyond assassins and would-be murderers, there is the weighty responsibility you and your sister shall hold.” Another step closer on the cobblestone, towards the sunflowers. They watch, they follow, ignorant of her whimpering and begging. “Take me away, S-Star Swirl! As future princess, I-I command you! They might... they might eat me!” “Sunflowers won’t eat you!” and he tugs the robe towards the yellow petals of death, pulling the scared filly by sheer magic strength. “But something greater will eat your soul if you are careless: hundreds of thousands of ponies out there, watching your every move—and why do they watch you? Just as the sun provides nourishment and light to these flowers and just as a mother is nourishment and light to her children, so shall you be to your subjects who shall depend on you for nourishment, light, guidance—“ “But ponies aren’t sunflowers! Th-they won’t eat me!” Only inches away from stems furnishing devastation, biding their time until their target is at its nearest. Sunflowers, drooping to face Celestia, but now their faces are the muzzles and mouths and eyes of her subjects, depending on her, counting on her— “But ponies will look up to you and Luna all the same, and that is not to mention bad actors. You are very fortunate that those miscreants did not kill you. Still, they wanted to kill you. They won’t be the last ones, surely. Not a few are those who will try to manipulate you, to try to kill you for nothing more than the power you hold by mere accident. “If you are not ready for that, young one...” The sunflowers glow in his gray magic, floating from the soil, grisly roots exposed. They fly at her. “Agh!” Their angry little non-existent faces, gunning for her. Magic firing, horn firing everywhere, magic rays bouncing off, to burn, to sizzle, to annihilate, remove the threat, protect her, keep her safe, to stay alive, running, galloping, adrenaline crushing her, distant hoofsteps of guards coming to rescue her— A whooshing wing over her. “Celie!” And Luna hugs her. That blue face of grace. “Wh-what happened?! Why are there... sunflowers burning everywhere?” Celestia opens her eyes, smells the fire and hears ponies spraying water over the flames, but in her tears, she doesn’t hear Star Swirl’s chastisement, of teaching her not to be afraid, of having to improve her magic reflexes. Hears only the soft words of her sister, of comfort, just like her mother, just like her own voice: “Don’t worry, Celie. I got—“ “—your back on this, right, dear sister?” And at the top of the tower though not yet at the balcony, Celestia, in her full-grown regal form, dons her royal gold crown and peytral, full-blown dawn-sky mane and tail flowing by wind not there. “You’ve always got my back,” she answers her sister. And Luna, her appearance just like the night sky but with a touch of the imperial in her own black regalia, flaps her wings and turns on her magic, touching the curtains from afar. “Then let’s inaugurate this kingdom together.” The two sisters trot past the tower’s curtains, entering the balcony and the too-long night-into-twilight outside. They are blasted by the applause of the crowd far below, raising their heads towards their ruler-saviors, illuminated by a bevy of lanterns and torches by too few tents for those camping out in Equestria’s new capital of Everfree, all out there for the few days since Discord’s defeat and liberation from decades of chaotic destruction. When the speech of freedom is said and done, the princesses lift their bodies up, flying without flapping their wings, and their horns glow to end the night, lowering the moon and lifting the sun to herald a glorious morning, all to the praise and joyous stomps of the populace. Luna gives her sister a tug on the withers. “What do you have planned for the morning? I, for one, shall enjoy the ‘late night’ festivities for a little longer.” Celestia can’t help but laugh at her festive sibling. “The mead hall?” “Why, you know me so well!” and Luna wraps her closer for a wing hug. “Which leaves you with collecting everypony’s gifts for us, right?” “Right, dear sister.” And the two fly their separate ways, Luna towards the castle’s mead hall to quaff ale with her citizens while Celestia swoops down to an open public square where everypony gathers, landing on a huge pedestal guarded by soldiers whose armors sparkle under the sun. The rambunctious assembly quickly form themselves into as much of an orderly line as possible. Despite the guards’ demands for formality, more than a few ponies manage to throw flowers and bouquets at their beloved eminence. Most of them are sunflowers. Barely a lavender in sight, though her heart warms for each of those sleepy little plants. Keep a smile, a simple smile despite the number of weird and disgusting sunflowers entering her life. No need to remember that one time Discord chased her down a maze with nothing but sunflowers growing out of the hedges and watching her all the time like “some Panopticon’s security cameras,” whatever the draconequus meant by— “Oh, look! It moves! The heads follow her around!” “Why, yes! The sunflowers turn to look at her wherever she goes! Could it be—?” “Of course! She is more than fit to lead this mighty kingdom, so say the sunflowers—and the skies!” Celestia briskly moves on to the rest of the gifts, to those more worthy of her time and less likely to stress her out by their mere presence: statuettes and commemorative plates, paintings and poems, songs and dance... A break after an hour of gifts, so she retires from the now organized crowd into the sky, flying close to the castle’s wall and then perching on top of another tower—an observatory, some sleeping astronomer’s hiding place—and she knows what to say to the pony just now perching beside her: “Are you drunk yet?” Luna titters, flapping her wings in place. “Augh, no! What makes you think that, Celie?” “That bitter breath of yours?” “’Tis but a flesh wound on my sobriety!” Then, eyeing her, “Besides, I smell a bit of... hah, what did they give you at first?” An uneasy sigh. Looks to the ponies below, many already watching the alicorns sit up there like eagles. “A few sunflowers.” “Hmph. They still do not know that you hate them to the core, do they?” “Not especially after they finally noticed the sunflowers’... well, interesting behavior when they’re around me.” Luna resists the urge to use the Royal Canterlot Voice in her laughter. “Haven’t burned any of them yet?” “No. That would be impolite.” And Luna lightly punches her on the withers, laughing all the way and catching stray looks from below. With lowered voice, “Oh, come on! That’d be a spectacle! See it all burn down... good for a fireplace while you read some scrolls, right?” Celestia replies with a smile, rubbing the little pain on her back. Her sister is certainly stronger than she looks— —yet the fight went in Celestia’s favor, and Luna’s corrupted face was etched on the moon for all to see. The advisers and councilors told her to carry on, to keep calm. There were many ponies asking for an explanation, wondering what happened to the now delayed inaugural Summer Sun Celebration to celebrate a century of peace after Discord’s imprisonment—with the Winter Moon Fair originally slated for six months after that. Of course, her advisors shut that idea down once they discovered what happened with Nightmare Moon. She intended to extol her sister, to not leave her out, with the Celebration speech. Now, it was sole self-idolatry mandated by the masses, though she does not fail to mention Luna as a true sister over the decades right to the bitter end. While a few wept, many cheered. Shouts of traitor and backstabber erupted at the first mention of Luna’s name before guards quieted the rabble. After the speech and Celestia ushering in the year’s longest day, they showered the lone monarch with gifts. Many flowers found their way into her sight—roses, lilies, tulips, and daisies, along with more exotic varieties such as precious amaryllises and rare campions. But sunflowers kept cropping up. Soon, an army of happy yellow sunshines faced her wherever she went, much to the audience’s amazement and fawning over. As peaceful soldiers, they stood, saluting the solar mare. One pony was sent to the dungeon for stomping on some lavenders in the name of Princess Celestia. “She shouldn’t have ruled at all!” mumbled a subject as the criminal was hauled to his prison, so Celestia overheard. “Look at how many ponies go to Princess Celestia’s court compared to that reprobate! Most of the nocturnals didn’t even bother going to her court!” “Nightlife is just debauchery these days,” declared another. “Drinking, partying in taverns to revel in hedonism all night long... Luna went around like a pagan sensualist! We can’t have a sick pleasure seeker represent us! What we need is a statesmare!” “If Celestia can handle both sun and moon, why do we need this Nightmare Moon anyway?” piped in one more. “She should be vilified, denounced everywhere! Turning against her own sister just because she was jealous of all the attention she got! Ssurely, Celestia was patient with her to the very end, and yet—!” Celestia’s smile remained. Her smile remains as she looks down a cliff not too far from Canterlot. All she said was that she’d fly around, to clear her head from all the chaos of the past six hours. No one followed her. No one knew she went here. She dives down the cliff, wind attacking her being, carrying her down by the wings like a weightless leaf streaming down a river, wings pulling her weight as she pulls a hefty wagon behind her, a wagon filled with nothing but sunflowers. Alone in the ravine, just her and the wagon, deep in with the rocks and the crags, buffeted by the howling of dry wind. None, not even a sharp-eyed griffon, to see her as she creeps closer to a cave where she can conceal herself. She looks at the sunflowers she’s pushed against the cragged cracks of stone walls. Turns on her horn to feel the sunflowers in her magic grip—the petals, their soft and innocent petals, unaware of the boiling blood racing through her wrathful veins, fueling her hot tears. The face of ignorance. The face of murder, of power-hungry killers and manipulators. The face of her sister’s death. The heavy face of all who look up to her. Tears glisten as a great conflagration whisks the cart of faces away, away from her burning sight, her body warmed by floral devastation as the sunflowers crackle under merciless flames, their petals curling and charring, too much sun in their eyes— Sister... Her head shoots up, ears perking, falling in the half-remembered daydream— “Sister?” And Celestia turns to Luna who bade Twilight a goodbye. Something burning— “You decided to burn the logs,” and Luna gestures to the fireplace. “Not the flowers, most fortunately, else that might have done a number on Twilight, knowing how highly she sees you.” A bar floats across the door’s handles, locking the sisters inside. “Is something the matter, Celie?” There, the sunflowers lie on her nightstand. Looking innocently, looking at her innocently, facing her as logs crackle under the fire, their yellows shining under the sun. With a nod, Luna levitates the bouquet in her magic grip, bringing it closer to her sister. The flowers then turn around to face their pony sun. “It has to do with this, is it not?” A heavy sigh, carrying a millennium’s worth of weight. Her heavy head lowers as if cracking under a yoke. “I haven’t seen these for almost five years, save for the rare painting...” “And you were thinking of burning them?” She does not answer that. Celestia clenches her jaw, holds the sunflowers in her grip. Stares at their eyeless faces. And they stare back, unknowing and innocent. Nothing runs through their non-existent minds, only a bio-magical response to a solar anomaly, the sun’s essence in something else—in someone—other than the sun. The flowers do not recognize this. They just look, eager for light. “You... you have done no evil, little ones.” Without looking, she magically opens a cabinet to take out a vase and water can, lifting the flowers from the bouquet. How the water shines under the sun as they pour into the vase and fill the stems—!
Traveler's Journey, DoneFrom stone to grass, soil. Florenza feels it in her hooves from the sudden teleport. Her hometown's early morning hustling and bustling hoofsteps and chatter, vanished, replaced by melodious harmonies of birds perched on ancient trees’ branches. One second, she was talking to a familiar yet surprising face, hoping to sell her more of her precious and prized sunflowers she's grown all her life—the next, she's far from home in an alien forest, almost alone. For answers, she looks to her teleporter: Celestia, clad in plain yellow robe, unfazed. The former princess peers past a few trees, looks behind her as hooves step on newly-dewed grass. “I ask if you can keep this place clean, you and others who are more than willing to care for this sacred place—to let it flourish with the prettiest of flowers you can find.” Florenza’s rubbernecking head takes in the forest’s plenty of bushes, flowers, little animals running around. A bird lands on her brown mane and staring curiously at her sunflower cutie mark. “I can do that, especially for a pony who’s served us well for such a long time… but why do you call this sacred? I don’t see much here other than a good forest.” Celestia nods, knowing, before departing the copse of trees. Ahead of her, an opening. A circle of no trees, a circle where the sun shines like a huge spotlight. A wide swath of open, untouched grass, of cool air and birds flying around to welcome the two visitors to this holy site. A tombstone lies in the center. Hoof to her mouth, a shocked Florenza trots on three legs, approaching the sign of death. She tunes out the too-happy birdsongs. A closer look, the deceased’s cutie mark etched on stone— “Star Swirl… the Bearded?” Celestia nods again. Inches away from the stone, she goes, “We had the funeral here last night. Not much was said given the extraordinary circumstances of his being here in the first place. He and the Pillars… it is a miracle that they’ve made it to this time. Thus, our appreciation was better left unsaid. Our actions, hopefully, spoke louder than words.” Said actions still speak at the foot of the stone. Books, scrolls, his hat and cloak enchanted by a spell to ward off dust and dirt for many years to come. A few flowers. “We have not announced his death, though we’ve notified Princess Twilight. She will make it public tomorrow once it’s been decided what to do with his possessions.” In silence, those actions—these gifts—speak on, accompanied by a morning breeze and the tweeting of birds farther off. “So… which of these did you give him?” A hoof gesturing towards the gifts, retracts. “I did not give him anything. Not back then. But after some thought, there was something...“ And out of her saddlebag, a flower. A sunflower. Florenza’s eyes widen in surprise. “The sunflower you paid for back in the Royal Flower Contest a few days ago!” But Celestia pays her no heed as she levitates the sunflower to the ground, surrounding it with soil. A touch of her hoof to release Earth pony magic, binding the sunflower to the ground, rooting it there as if this forest were its home. The sunflower still stares at Celestia all that time, now raising its head as she stands up from her tiny act of gardening. “B-but… so it’s not true what they say, that you don’t like sunflowers?” A blush, a scratch at the back of her golden head. “I’m sorry if that was… um, you were a princess, after all.” A regal chuckle is the first part of her answer. “There is truth to the rumor. They used to scare me so much, yes, following me around since I was a filly. Sadly, I ended up hating it for darker reasons, especially after I had to banish my own sister and ponies gave me sunflowers but not a single flower that Luna loved...” She shakes her head, sparkly mane flapping in slow motion. “Over a thousand years, mistakes and regrets pile up. No doubt my sins have haunted me for so long. Even the sins of others, I recall in vivid detail. “But sooner or later, I have come to realize: is not the sun the bringer of the new day, the harbinger of something new—a chance to begin again and to do good?” She stoops down again, gracing the sunflower with her head. The former princess, the sun mare herself— She pats the flower on the petals. It responds by continuing to stare at the solar pony, without understanding. “And so, in a thing I used to despise, something good shall reign. I shall rise to give it good meaning, a good symbol. It is childish of me to be enslaved to a bunch of happy flowers, after all, and I shall begin in an outrageous way: that even in death—“ points to the tomb then to the lonely sunflower “—there can be life.” And she turns to Florenza, hoof to chest, to impart something from the bottom of her heart. “And that is why you are here. The rest of the Pillars will not live forever, and all of them choose not to do so. They’ve all expressed a desire to be buried here with him, and maybe more of Equestria’s modern heroes shall be buried here as well when their time comes. “But I do not want this to be just a place of death. I want this to be a place of life, hence the flowers. The tombs shall only be the center. From this and beyond, there shall be flowers, a garden, fountains, a gazebo or two—so that we do not just remember their deaths but also the life they’ve given us.” Florenza nods at that, heartwarming sorrow piercing her heart, sniffling now, wiping tears away. “That’s... that’s good... it’s all good, I believe so... and I think I can assemble a troupe of ponies from my place for starters and we can grow from there. I assume you want sunflowers with them, too, right?” Celestia turns away, nodding and saying yes to everything. But she stops, locking eyes with that fatal stone. “Florenza, do you know someone who can make two cenotaphs?” The florist cocks her head to the side. “A cenotaph?” “A tomb, a memorial, for somepony whose body is not there.” And Florenza blinks, taken aback. “But who would they be for? Who else died recently?” Celestia still locks eyes with that stone, hiding from Florenza her watery eyes as she stares into the sun and beyond. “Oh, they did not die recently. It was a long, long time ago...” The couple do not care for anything back home. Not now, not in this new morning in fields of gold where no one can see nor bother them. They just told the town, the council of sun-raising unicorns and the mayor and everypony else of importance that they need time to think, to reflect, before making any decision on their newborn children. Mother caresses her twin daughters—different and not identical twins, already a curiosity unheard of among the lands. She now both curses and blesses herself for watching the council raise the sun together, of having her offspring be close enough to such deep pools of magic that they sprouted something new, somehow moved the sun and moon on their own to usher in this same new morning. Alicorns. Or pegacorns. The name doesn’t matter. All Mother was told was that they were the three tribes in one. A miracle. Divine. Father had a strong enough hoof to draw the line. “It is useless to act in haste!” he said to everypony asking him to hurry to the capital so Equestria’s leaders can deliberate on this miracle. “What you will do with our foals this week will save or doom us all, so shut your mouths and leave us alone!” Nopony bothered them from then on, but nopony expected them to just backtrack a little and retreat in some nearby wheat field. The family now trot through the fields. It was getting too itchy for the foals, and they were about to cry. Mother hushes them as she holds the foals with her hoof while Father leads the way. A field of flowers, a little garden; natural or pony-made, they do not know. To the foals, it does not matter for they stretch their hooves out to the pretty plants, enamored by the pretty petals. And hungry. Father picks some flowers and crushes them in a bowl he brought along, crushing them into foal-edible mush. “Ah,” and he takes off two flowers by the stem, one by one. “Here is... another sign. I know the augurs gave the two of them daffodils and lilies to consecrate their births, but considering what’s happened this morning...” Mother picks them up, holding them close. Feels their soft petals as her foals stretch their hooves out to these new playthings. “A sunflower to symbolize the day’s vitality and a lavender to aid in one’s slumber. How... appropriate. This is no mere coincidence, is it?” The foals finally wrest the flowers from her grasp, toying with the petals, sucking on the stems, trying to eat the stem but failing for lack of teeth. She looks on, unaware of one foal already smelling of lavenders, already yawning though it is just morning. The other, curiously then delightfully giggling at how it looks at her like her parents do as she throws the plant high into the air, watching it fall down gracefully like a feather, that flower always facing her wherever it falls. “Sun and moon,” Father says. “I guess that settles our naming dispute, then?” A cleared throat later, “Shall we name them Sunflower and Lavender? Single words as well, fit for ponies that are clearly uncommon.” Mother smiles, too, yet—“They raised the sun and lowered the moon. Flowers won’t be enough for them.” “Then what shall we name them?” With a soft sun-blessed smile, she rests her eyes upon her offspring. “We name them after the sun and moon, after the cosmos themselves.” “The cosmos themselves?” He gazes upward, beholding the baby blue sky in all its innocent magnificence. “The celestial, the lunar...” Mother snuggles her foals, cuddling them with her muzzle. In one fell swoop, she pulls Father closer into a one tight family hug, their foals cooing and cackling at this affection. “We don’t know what’s in store for you, Celestia and Luna, but... if Harmony has made you alicorns, then she shall take you to places untold. May Harmony protect you, and may she bless you over all your days and nights.” For a moment, holding onto sunflower and lavender, onto each other, Celestia and Luna understand.
