Tales of the Celestian Days With(out) Cake
The Tales Completed (Lyra's Lessons)
TWENTY-ONE: A Challenge
"Would the pony who captured a photograph please come forward?" Celestia requested, her voice forcibly even.
The audience parted and turned toward the culprit, a lime-mint-coated pony who, with a faltering smile, grinned back a winning flash of pearly-whites. But Celestia was unmoved.
"Please, approach." Celestia chose her strategy carefully. Her decisions were carefully watched. "Could you please tell us your name?"
"Lyra. It's Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings." The pony blinked.
Celestia recognized her subject. She attended Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns and Celestia had taught her a number of times. Lyra should have been in class right now.
"May I ask," Celestia started, "what it is you have been doing here?"
"...taking a photograph," she said.
"I understand. May I see it?" Celestia asked.
"I ahhh... sent it away."
"How?"
"Teleportation."
"Truly?" Teleportation was a difficult spell. Lyra was not a good student... though maybe the evaluation of a lack of skill had resulted not because of a dearth of same but due to a dearth of practice.
"Not very far," Lyra shrugged. "I'm not that good."
"Can you retrieve it?"
"Not really," Lyra said. "It's in a locked dropbox just outside but I can't teleport it back."
"That's all right." Celestia nodded to some of her guards. None moved. They didn't get the idea. "Go fetch the photograph." Her desires were clarified.
"But, Princess, we might have to break in."
Celestia glowered. Some things shouldn't be said. The guard, presumably not completely witless, responded to the glower with a quick nod and, along with a partner, he left.
"Why are you taking such photographs?" Celestia asked.
Lyra was blunt and she could guess the implication. "Unflattering ones?"
Celestia nodded.
"It pays. 20 bits for a weird facial expression, 10 for a cross look. Beaucoup bits for something special--"
The audience grumbled. Photographs of them in unflattering positions while at court had permeated in recent months.
"And you have been coming to court how often?" Celestia, now that she focused on her memories, recalled seeing Lyra in the audience before, but that lime-green pony had nearly escaped her notice. Lyra apparently was an expert background pony, hovering just on the edge of notice--another surprising talent. Celestia worried about how many other talents among her students she might have missed. Was Twilight Sparkle really the best student of her generation? Had Celestia been negligent--enough with those thoughts! She calmed herself, but reflected that the rot in her brain, like a cake decaying from the inside out, was taking its toll.
"Twice a week; sometimes three times."
"But your classes are scheduled during this time."
"I know." Lyra hung her head. "But I've got a good reason. The bits aren't just so I can eat fancy cake and jazz."
"Jazz?" Celestia asked.
"It's an expression--means stuff."
Celestia's audience nodded. Apparently she wasn't as well studied on the language's evolution as she had thought. But Celestia could quickly adapt and appear to have mastery of every situation. "Then spill the jazz on me, student."
Somepony in the audience chortled, but rapidly stifled it.
Neologisms could be tricky... sometimes they had multiple meanings. Celestia was getting old... and less adroit at repositioning just as she had become less adept at swallowing stacks of cakes as she had in years past. She cleared her throat and went with a more standard request: "Ahem. Please explain yourself, Lyra."
TWENTY-TWO: Lyra's Tale
"It is a tale of woe, Princess Celestia. Please do not weep." Lyra bowed before her liege.
"We are not worried about that," Celestia frowned, girding herself to endure the coming sob story that promised to be a tapestry of excuses.
"As you know, I attend your School for Gifted Unicorns."
"Mmmm... Hmmm." Celestia nodded her head.
"But studying costs bits, and not just in terms of economic opportunity cost. As you know, my parents disowned me after the incident."
"Yes, the incident." Celestia had no idea, but she'd lose even more face if she admitted her memory wasn't what it once was or that she didn't know important news. But unlike with the 'jazz' situation of moments past, she wouldn't push her luck; she'd keep her response brief. Celestia nodded sagely.
"So, I sell gossip to the rags: Celestian Sun, Equestrian Inquirer, et. cetera. Anonymously. Or at least I had been anonymous before." She shrugged. "It made it easier to blend into the background. I know the rags can be mean-spirited and I know some ponies don't like it when their names are in print, at least with the photos I've taken, but it pays real well." She looked around at angry, long-drawn faces.
"And, although I believe we already covered the mechanics of this issue and we could make a logical leap to a conclusion, but to make it clear--how do you pass gossip on anonymously?"
Lyra grinned, probably at her resourcefulness and hopefully not at the derision she derived. "I pop off photos and stories with a short-range teleportation."
She had done this short-range 'teleportation' magic quite often. Interesting.
Lyra was a decent student when she focused. But by no means was the daydreamer a good student. She slept in class almost as much as Celestia dozed during day court. Yet, despite that disappointment, she had been teleporting gossip. Teleportation spells were not easy, Celestia reminded herself. Few unicorns could manage that spell except over very short visible distances. Her prize student Twilight Sparkle, of course, could do better than that, but her brilliance shouldn't blind Celestia to anypony overcoming the depressingly common infantile limitations that shackled her other little ponies.
"And why, specifically, do you need the funding?" Celestia dreaded potential political fallout from the answer; she hoped Lyra was just paying for instruments, cameras, toys, and bon-bons.(Not this Bon Bon, though she may be important later. This bonbon.) Not a bonobo. They, like humans, don't exist.) But Celestia feared the answer might be political.
"I need it for my boarding."
Nobles gasped. Celestia sighed. Her Gifted Unicorns were educated for free, an experiment that had initially resulted in overwhelming class sizes--which had been dealt with by winnowing classes by testing to only be supplemented with the most motivated and talented unicorns. For boarding, those unicorns usually stayed at their homes or paid discounted rates to reside at the Castle. Although the crown's purse was large, one did not want to encourage families to take advantage and the earth ponies and pegasi were quick to complain when unicorns appeared to receive unfair treatment. So, Celestia relied on the less monetarily-endowed students to (easily) petition for subsidized or free housing. But, one could only assist individuals who petitioned. Lyra's family had not; and, for whatever reason, neither had Lyra.
"You never asked for boarding assistance," Celestia noted.
Lyra frowned. "I want to make my own way in the world."
Celestia sighed.
"I don't wanna be dependent on anyone for anything. I wanna be like Fried Mare or Rags Rich!" Famous self-made mares, long dead. Celestia supposed she couldn't blame Lyra for her ambition: though her actions had not been necessary--Lyra didn't need to go through the tribulations of those mares because of reforms Celestia had made. But maybe... Celestia wondered. Maybe this is why her little ponies had grown so somnolent and fearful. They didn't struggle, they just depended on their tall sun mommy to take care of their every whim. That was also why her court sessions had grown increasingly lengthy. She needed to start weaning her babes. Maybe this Lyra had a point, even if it involved trading shameful gossip about Celestia, nobles, and other court petitioners. Celestia could see angered expressions from a number of powerful nobles, her adopted sometimes-violent-minded "nephew" Prince Blueblood among them. (She had adopted him after a cake-fueled decision-making marathon court session--a decision that had perhaps done more harm than good.)
Lyra continued. "Since 'the Incident', I've known that I need to prove myself. I've known that I need to demonstrate that yes I can!"
"What?"
"Yes I can!"
"Where's that slogan from?" It seemed vaguely familiar.
"Me!"
"But where did you hear it?"
"I made it up." (She had not, but Celestia, who only vaguely recalled the phrase originated from a famous historical incident wasn't going to press the point).
"And what are your goals?" Celestia moved the conversation ahead.
"I want to live on my own! Or with a roommate; I'm realistic about rent and the cost of oppressive taxation."
Celestia raised an eyebrow.
"I wanna play my lyre and that will pay for a bit of bits, but it won't pay for everything." Lyra pulled her lyre from off her back, showing it to her Princess.
"Your instrument looks well-kept," Celestia complimented, even though she really didn't want to--but social niceties were expected.
"Thank you," Lyra blushed, and she bowed a bit. "And I want to live outside of Canterlot; away from my parents."
"Your parents are here and yet, you were boarding?" Celestia asked.
"Yes; that's why I didn't have any boarding discount. I've had to work hard for everything. I'm not a parasite. I'm a pony being!" She stressed that second word, part of some last-century political slogan, Celestia recalled. "It's harmed my school performance a bit," Lyra noted. "But it's not like I'm a Twilight Sparkle." She hung her head.
"I see," Celestia nodded, interrupting the increasingly depressing spiel. Lyra's parents, she could just barely recall, were quite wealthy. Since they could afford the price, Celestia wouldn't have cut them a break. "So, about this lyre of yours," Celestia asked, gazing upon Lyra's cutie mark of a lyre. "It seems to be your special talent?"
"Yes. Yes!" Then, before Celestia could speak, Lyra desperately added: "Delight in my talent!" And she started playing her lyre, which she pulled off a strap on her back. Then she sputtered to a stop, reconsidering her boldness. "Please, if you like. I hope you will find it to your pleasure."
Celestia gestured for her to continue. The music might lighten the increasingly tense mood--although, probably not. At least it would give Celestia time to weigh implications of the Lyra problem. She needed to consider how Lyra's situation had gone unnoticed, consider how that made Celestia look incompetent, consider how Lyra made nobles and court-goers look ridiculous with her surreptitiously gathered gossip, and consider how Lyra had developed greater magical talent than Celestia and other teachers had realized....
Lyra's magic plucked multiple strings--admittedly an accomplishment. Celestia pondered. Perhaps Lyra could defend herself from reprisals for the gossip she had spread. Celestia noted Prince Blueblood's vicious scowl--he took the concept of enforced harmony too far.... You instruct some ponies about goodness and they somehow misunderstand the spirit and tangle themselves among weeds of rules and regulations and punishment. Perhaps, despite the enemies she had stirred, Lyra would be okay. Perhaps. And then again, distance would increase the likelihood of her safety. Although Lyra had proved herself to be a competent magic-user and although Celestia wanted her little ponies to be more self-reliant, Celestia couldn't help but meddle. She wanted the rush of knowing that she had made a difference. Like Lyra, Celestia wanted not to be a parasite.
Parasites would have consumed Celestia's cake by now, if it hadn't been kept under preservation spells and reserved for the royal person, but still, by now, the cake must have been teetering on the edge of staleness. Celestia grimaced. Between that consideration and after hours upon hours of talk and water and wine, she badly needed to go to the bathroom. Not wanting to go through the courtly rigamarole of adjourning and rejoining for a break that would fill her with all the more temptation to devour the succulent sweet cake that once consumed would send her into a delirium, Celestia decided she had no remaining time left to walk a pony through an existential crisis on this perhaps last day before Equestria was plunged into endless night. She rolled her eyes and decided:
"Graduation is in a few months. However, your demonstrations are intriguing. Let us have your final test now."
Gasps passed throughout the court. Celestia ignored them; shock and outrage were a near-constant choir. The more somnolent and predictable and kind she was with her pronouncements, the more predictability was expected. So Celestia ruled her ponies with greatest care--perhaps too much. If she raised an eyebrow half an inch more today than it had been raised yesterday, the arching could provoke gasps. She was tired of that--moreso since she realized that the prepared cake--the stale-becoming cake that was awaiting her--might very well be the *last* daycake on which she might dine. For tomorrow, when her sister arrived, Celestia might die.
Lyra, however, wasn't destined to that fate, or to any other terrible end (although like most creatures she would probably perish if Nightmare Moon managed to institute eternal night--there was only so much lichen and mushrooms that could be consumed--and stars could only glow so bright). At least, to the extent of her personal fate, Lyra was not destined to suffer if she'd accept Celestia's help. And she would. Celestia had noted a hook, a bit of a rivalry when a certain personal student had been mentioned. So Celestia spoke: "When you pass your test today, you will gain good notoriety, dear little pony. You will be able to canter on your own four hooves, proclaiming to employers and musical listeners that you demonstrated such talent that you graduated before even my personal student, Twilight Sparkle."
Lyra's eyes lit up and her playing abruptly cut off.
"You say you do not wish to spread gossip, though. I will appreciate if you will formally swear off that occupation. It is not savory." Celestia fixed Lyra with a judicious stare.
"Hey!" Somepony, probably a journalist or a spouse or relative of one, voiced an objection.
"Of course some ponies need to spread the truth. But gossip is not vetted, no?" Celestia asked. "Fact-checking to it is foreign. Journalism, however, is a sister to facts and checking of same, is it not?" Her eyes, bleary from daydreaming, exhaustion and the glare of a setting sun, could not fix themselves on the anonymous likely-journalist, so her general comments alone would have to suffice to rhetorically intimidate the objecting pony. "And, of course, Lyra has stated she feels embarrassed by the career. I would not challenge her truth. She should follow her heart: earn lucre another way."
Lyra looked back at her cutie mark, which, like her instrument, was a lyre.
Celestia nodded.
"The tips are poor. Even with notoriety--few make their living by music outside of the orchestra--"
"Split living costs with a roommate. You mentioned a willingness to compromise."
Lyra nodded. "And I've been lonely," she whispered, almost too soft to be heard.
"Yes," Celestia said. "I am certain you will be able to locate a roommate, as you have proven yourself quite resourceful." To herself, she added the thought: '... perhaps too resourceful in stirring up trouble, but I know just the right mare to enter into your orbit who can keep you alive on Equus.'
Lyra's eyes lit up.
TWENTY-THREE. Fin
And, with Lyra's dismissal, day court was finished.(Although the concept of night court had become obsolete after the banishment of Celestia's sister, she, out of custom, still thought of her 'court' as day court.)
Inquisitive Lyra had been foiled, the dropbox containing her undermining photo-snap confiscated, and she was sent to Ponyville--at a mere fetlock's distance from Canterlot, but once one is out of sight, one may become out of mind--Celestia hoped the adage rang true.
The gossipy pony would be surreptitiously--via a contrived coincidence--set up to live with an agent of the State, née Agent Sweetie Drops, now 'Bon Bon' who Celestia knew was itching for more action even though she had been sent into mandatory semi-retirement. That crackerjack mare had been living incognito as a sweets merchant ever since that terrible bugbear incident collapsed one of her lungs and her trachea. She'd probably gallop at the opportunity to get back into the action of doing more than just sending an occasional report to Celestia... even if the task was simply more detailed observation and intervention. If Lyra strayed from the path, and Celestia suspected she would, Bon Bon would know what to do.
Celestia licked her lips and sent for the cake.
But it was gone. It had gone off. Spoiled. Her lodestar--her goal throughout her struggles...
It was a lie!
"No," her chef insisted. A new cake would be made. In fact, another had been cooking in the oven--this was not the first time such a spoliation situation had occurred.
But it was nearly Celestia's bedding time. Court had spilled over into her hour of dinner and final relaxation. Sugar and spice would be ever-so nice, but it would also keep her awake, even moreso than the nightmares all night--what a fright.Ref; Video
Celestia sighed and she trotted to her chambers. No cake.
But she would persevere. Tomorrow was a new day; the Summer Sun Celebration was nigh, and on it, she would die. Or persevere. Or be preserved on the moon in place of her sister in salt and sulfites so she wouldn't rot--hopefully. But maybe she would. She was already well over a thousand years old. Her era was done. She had failed. But either way, she would soon sleep interrupted. And maybe that was what really mattered. Sleep could be as sweet as cake to her aching mind. She readied her special night clothing, then lay down and closed her eyes.
TWENTY-FOUR: Optional Bonus Nightmare Nightish Chapter
A dream. "...Cupcakes! Delightful. No nightmares tonight? But... BLEARGHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Soylent cupcakes are ponies! BLOOOORRRGHHHHHHH. Another dream. A Rainbow Factory. Tentatively, that seemed nice. But, no! No! No! How could they make Rainbows from processed--BLEEEAAAHHHHHHHHH! A different dream. Another weather factory. A tour? How weather gets made? Yelloowwww Raiiinnn(T-Rated Story)! URBPHGGGGG. Why pegasi! Why! NOOOOOOOO! ...On otherwise-perfect cakes. URGGGGGHHHHHH."
Of course it was a nightmare... This time. But for the next night... there was hope.
Author's Note
This tale is sort of about growing old and not being as capable or as valued and trying to keep up a facade. 
But it's also about cake. 
Or is it? 
As stated last chapter: this idea arrived about a millisecond after I read the warning sentence in Fan of Most Everything's contest post: "I’d still like to see some creative choices rather than, say, forty Celestia-Perserverance stories about her toughing out an obnoxious day on the throne while looking forward to a slice of cake." So, of course, I made sure not to write forty stories of same. There need to be some left for other Ponyvillians!
Thus, this is another entry in the tradition of my series of 'tongue-in-cheek' contest entries, which are standalone but which take place in the same universe as the show and this tale:
EAn Entire Encyclopedia on The Comprehensive History of Equestria, Featuring Autumn Blaze and Bulk Biceps
An entire encyclopedia on the comprehensive history of Equestria, featuring Autumn Blaze and Bulk Biceps.
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Also involving bureaucracy:
EIt's About "Princess Twilight Embracing The Dark Side" (And Raven Inkwell Gets Spiked)
Princess Twilight embraces the dark side... of currency! And Raven Inkwell gets Spiked.
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Lyra as a "guardian angel" for Twilight:
EThe Incidental Pony
Twilight Sparkle never seemed to notice her old friend Lyra Heartstrings. Lyra isn't a very noticeable pony. She has put a lot of effort into that.
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Bon Bon's special work:
ESweet Apple Biohazard
Special Agent Sweetie Drops confronts the dangerous biohazard of mutant apple blight.
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Tales of the Celestian Days With(out) Cake
ONE: Our Frame Story: The Cake
"The cake is ready, my liege." Princess Celestia's current-most-especially-favored guard, a handsome broad-built blue-maned stallion pony who often utilized his exquisite blue bushy tail to expert effect as her chief fly-shooer when she conserved her magic, inclined his head as he uttered the words--words with an ever-sweet implication, a titillatingly tasty suggestion that set Princess Celestia's tongue alight inside her mouth, licking up saliva--imagining it had turned into sweet, smooth, creamy cake melting, melting, melting, melting.
Then she frowned.
The cake was ready--that was not a lie. But it may as well be.
Celestia's dreary dull days were stuffed with monotonous myriad meetings; her nasty nightmare nights were filled with them too--horribly horrendous hallucinations of same. Her not-so-dearly-departed sister, Luna, the not-quite-dead alicorn witch who once oversaw the realm of dreams and had once protected ponies from nightmares, had been banished to the moon by the good alicorn witch, Celestia herself, for ages. But ding-dong... the nightmare witch wasn't dead. And Celestia's dreams, like those of her subjects, had not been protected. She spent enormous energy to shield them--her shield only worked sometimes, and not for her--the Nightmare's hatred focused on her. She'd gone mad. 'No sleep and no cake makes Celestia a dull Princess', she thought, recalling that bitter time:
TWO: Crystal Blue Persuasion
A thousand years. Maybe a thousand and one. She'd lost count somewhere along the centuries, shortly after that salmon-coated student of hers started shining and talking to ghostponies. Celestia had flipped into insanity. She'd broken badly, snorted blue crystal methodologically, made her chief student into a chef student as she cooked it, ground it into powder. And a decade was lost; give or take a year.
Celestia had sworn off blue powder--a new day had come--she wouldn't give up.(Not this REF) It hadn't killed her but it had led her astray and she couldn't abandon her subjects, her little ponies, to the terrors of the world or a time where the sun stayed up and never went down. She'd come out of the blue haze in a fugue in the desert having starved herself forty days and forty nights during which she was sorely tempted by visions of the blue crystals and food and cake. But she had none of it.
Purged and clean, she emerged to find her corrupted student had passed, some said at Celestia's own feverish hooves... but she silenced those false rumors. Reborn and renewed, she swore off accepting more students--they might lead her astray. And she kept that promise for hundreds of years, instead buying time, refreshing the wards on Tartarus and giving of herself in governing her little ponies.
And Equestria, her land, kept repast for hundreds of years. Its ponies satiated, somnolent, stupid. Fat and happy like she would be after consuming a pleasant piece of cake following a tiresome marathon session of petitions in Day Court. Peace and good, for ponyhood. Where once her land had been filled with warriors, accustomed to sparring with conniving centaur-beasts, brutal bugbears, and demonically diamond-toothed dogs, now they fainted at the sight of rabbits overrunning a town square.(Season 1, Ep. 4)
They would melt without protection. And they watched her every move. When she did not act in accordance with the expectations of the Canterlot Times, the Manehatten Daily Mare, the Manehatten Street Journal, or that ridiculous Equestrian Inquirer with its bizarre salacious speculation about bloodthirsty seaponies,(The hippogriffs Celestia had known a thousand years ago were peaceful and fearful--far from bloodthirsty. After some unmentionable and (to Celestia at least) unremembered events that occurred during the tyranny of the blue crystal... they had disappeared.) unrest occurred. She was trapped in her throne. And possibly still brain-damaged from the crystal. 'Don't snort crystal my little ponies.' She mused to herself--silently--always silently lest a day court reporter or striving, sniveling pulp journalist would jot down her sayings and try to puzzle them out, reaching weird and disturbing conclusions.
Her faculties weren't what they once were, mental or physical--one of her dirty little secrets was she had to wear a diaper at night--but at least during the daytime she could sleep without nightmares. She could enter a daydream trance and endure. She always endured every struggle. Every obliterated and imprisoned monster that threatened Equestria, from wee petulant paradoxical parasprites to the titanic magic-absorbing centaur Tirek, weighed heavily on her mind. She ruled and yet she was ruled by her ponies, without much free time or freedom. But that was for the best. Too much freedom ended with the insipid persuasion of crystal.... Nevertheless, for her little ponies... she persisted.
THREE: All We Need Is Love Magic and FOUR: Cadance's Dalliance
But her once-beloved and oft-hated sister, the devil's cake to Celestia's angel type, was supposed to return. Celestia needed to meet that challenge, or else Luna--née 'Princess of Night'--would cover Equestria in eternal darkness. Crops requiring photosynthesis or not adapted to a nocturnal world would perish, with Celestia's weakened, infantilized little ponies swiftly following thereafter.
The first five hundred years after her sister's forced departure, Celestia had prepared strictly, trained her students well. None had become alicorn witches, which was a concern, but they had achieved great feats of magic. But after the nightmares and lack of sleep and the siren song of the salmon-coated student of hers proclaiming there was a shortcut to sleep took their toll, something had come unhinged. Her mind was not all right. She'd destroyed magical tomes, histories, hidden the lessons. And she'd pivoted. Strength through weakness. The nightmares had come less frequent. She had slept. Perhaps her sister saw a Celestia without a successor as less of a threat?
When the thousand years were almost due, she'd panicked and flailed to train a successor. The nightmares increased. There had been failures. Partial successes. But mostly failures. At last, she'd gotten Cadance--although more by chance than by design--the first new alicorn witch to grace Equestria in nearly a thousand years. Then, Cadance had fallen asleep.
Her self-trained replacement, who was supposed to defeat Luna when the wards keeping the dark witch from devastating Equestria decayed, had fallen asleep. Luna hadn't given her nightmares. Cadance was weak and she wasn't getting any stronger by battling nightmare beasts in her sleep--her glorious graceful sleep.
Celestia salivated and drool dripped out the side of her mouth as she imagined how wonderful uninterrupted sleep would be. Her favorite guard moved to block petitioners' view and surreptitiously wiped the drool from her mouth. Mmmm.
Cadance's magic specialty was 'love'. The power of love should work against Luna--Celestia had been sure when she'd set plans for developing her successor. But Cadance slept. And she enjoyed that sleep. Sleeping. Sleeping. Sleeping like so many of Celestia's lazy coddled millennial ponies--it would do them well to fight the monsters she sealed up in Tartarus so many years ago--build character by defeating beasts when walking to their schools and also when returning from same! In Celestia's youth, she had started and ended her day with mashing monsters! But Cadance! Cadance didn't prepare! She didn't study the carefully curated tomes on magic for the necessary seventy hours a week. She put in maybe thirty-five--nowhere near enough! "It's good enough for ponies in Prance," she suggested, but the only things of note those ponies had ever done was build that oversized child's girder-set tower and produce that Neapolitan ice cream salespony who'd briefly conquered Griffonstone and inspired the griffons' love-affair with scones. Ugh! Cadance didn't practice in the halls against constructs and beasts--she just trotted up to them and *hugged* and complemented them with inanities like "I love you little snowflake", "you're precious and wonderful and loved". Compliments were not a proper solution for all situations! They weren't even appropriate for resolving matters at Court!
Fluffhead Cadance's only talent was spreading her love all around. She was quite popular among the guards, hugging them here and there where Celestia could see, and where she thought Celestia did not have eyes. Even last week, after Celestia, out of the corner of an eye at court, peering past a crack in some disheveled curtains, had seen what the love Princess got up to with Celestia's favorite blue-maned guard captain, Celestia had tried to give her a talking to about defense readiness. But Cadance didn't listen! Yet, Celestia couldn't scream at her, couldn't force her to do anything--because Celestia found herself speechless every time she girded herself to upbraid her ungrateful student who ruled as mistress of love... but apparently not of all aspects of it since she didn't accept Celestia's 'tough love'. Although... Celestia postulated, perhaps the power holding Celestia back from upbraiding Cadance was herself. She did not want to risk another 'shining' incident. Either way, the reason for Celestia's inability to effectively discipline Cadance didn't matter--only the failed result.
Celestia needed a different pony to defeat her sister--somepony who would follow orders and study the nuances necessary for battle, somepony whose brain could assemble the puzzle-pieces of the Elements of Harmony into something powerful. So, she'd fixated on a student who achieved the highest marks and who tattled on troublemakers even when the tattling served no logical purpose--a unicorn named Twilight Sparkle.
And then Celestia lost track of time.
"But Celestia!" Twilight Sparkle told her, "This book insists that Nightmare Moon--" Celestia's sister Luna had, in a fit of rebellious gothic pique or invited demonic possession, rebranded herself 'Nightmare Moon of the Endless Night' shortly before embarking on her horrible final assault against Celestia, "will return in a thousand years, and a thousand years ends on this year's Summer Sun Celebration."
"It's actually a thousand and one years," Celestia noted, looking down at Twilight Sparkle. "One was a leap year, I think. It's difficult to reconcile the calendar so we still celebrate it as our thousandth year of the celebration but the first year was actually year zero--I was romancing a Stallion from Saddle Arabia and the mathematical tool was all the rage there but Equestria was just getting used to the nuances of applying it. Either that, or I imagined a year. Maybe the spell won't break after exactly a thousand and one turnings; it's not like its expiration date had been tested. I said I'd banish her for a "thousand years" but that was just to piss her off when she realized that was a load of ponysh**." Twilight blanched at Celestia's barnyard patois. Celestia continued, "and the author of that book of lies of yours was just guessing. It's fake: as fake as my pastoral pasturing with him!"
Twilight's eyes narrowed. "'Pastoral pasturing'? I've read that euphemism somewhere...Manual Canter? Wall Stack? The Marquis of Prudence?REF" Twilight giggled. "I mean I haven't *read* the Marquis of Prudence but I know of--"
"HaHa!" Celestia laughed loud and hard to overwhelm Twilight's pondering, thankful that the court had recessed for this private meeting.
"What?" Twilight grimaced. "All I apprehended was that you said this book is fake--but you said much before that--"
"Never mind." Celestia waved a dismissive hoof. "Twilight, do not fear. Stop reading those dusty books and get out and make some friends--for tomorrow you may die. You never know," Celestia chuckled.
"I do know! This Nightmare Moon is bad news! She could destroy the world! Famine! Death! Disaster!"
Celestia had tittered and shook her head. Then, she sent that mare on a journey of self-discovery and friendship and fun. The day court returned from its break. While her petitioners returned to their places, Celestia cogitated.
Celestia had really bucked up. Starting at least a year ago, she should have sent Twilight out to make friends and to protect Equestria by seeking the Elements of Harmony. Her thoughts were muddled but now that Twilight and her tittering was decently distant from Celestia's face, her thoughts could coalesce. 1000 years must have passed since Luna's imprisonment. And 1000 years was all Equestria had before Luna returned despite whatever desperate nonsense Celestia had logorrheically spewed; not 1001. Celestia had lost a year and she had really and truly bucked up her last-hoof plan.
But maybe Twilight could solve the problems. Maybe the Elements would appear during the last moments before defeat. Maybe the stress of a coming apocalypse would bind Twilight and the Elements' future bearers together into an unstoppable magical force!
"Neigh!" Celestia snorted, and the day court turned its eyes to her. Her court recorder made a note.
"Ahem," Celestia covered her mouth. "Clearing my throat." She returned to her thoughts. It was unlikely that Twilight could succeed, but at least Celestia's student might find friendship or romance in the hooves of a friend shortly before starving to death under the occluded empire of Nightmare Moon. She owed her diligent student the opportunity to have at least some opportunity for self-actualization before the inevitable cold darkness put an end to the persistence of heartbeat, life, and memory.
Still, Celestia had a back-up plan--she supposed. Perhaps namby-pampered muddy-minded millennial Cadance could hug Luna and blow her back to the moon with the explosive power of love. 'Perhaps all we need is love?' Celestia pondered.
'Neigh,' Celestia shook her head. That was too unlikely.
Interlude 1
But back to the cake... that awaited her, and yet, it was out of her grasp until the day court petitions, which were running later still after Twilight's 'special audience' were complete. The cake had been made and finished at the requested time, and the court should adjourn for her to eat, but... the logic of Celestia's rulings suffered post-sugar stuffing and with the world about to end, she needed a level mind--keep her ponies calm--make the last few *right* decisions. But she smelled the air... Succulent toothsome sugar.
FIVE: Dream of Sugar Floats On
She floated on sugar, shimmering sugar boats in the sky.
Yummy yummy she dissolved decadent pastry love in her tummy.
Paint every star in the sky, sky, sky, with sugar.
Sweet sweet love, that's what she wanted; that's what she needed.
A special delivery from the kitchen to her mouth.
So groovy, groovy--make her dizzy; even more so with cinnamon; she'd let it in.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la.
Celestia's tongue lolled out as she imagined a sugary cake. Bubblegum-flavored... chewy, chewy,... mmm... mmm. meeting it, taking pleasure.
Her head was spinning.
Like a whirlpool.
Making her dizzy.
So dizzy.
Out of reach.
But once she'd collapsed in the pillows of the sugar, she and it would all float on, oh-kay, okay.
SIX: Interlude 2 (Technically a Tale)
"Achooo!" The onomatopoeia of an unknown pony shocked Celestia out of her daydreaming reverie. She snapped her tongue back into her mouth and hoped its lolling had not been noticed. She looked around and others in her court seemed to be snapping back to attention. The petition had been a particularly somnolent one. The pony speaking, Mudbriar, was requesting a ban on construction with wooden materials, which was an intriguingly strange topic, but to present same, Mudbriar was demonstrating a tedious display on multiple chalk boards of how chalk and etching should and could efficiently replace paper-making.
There was a scrum, pushing and shoving to exit the hall as ponies exhausted by Mudbriar's drone sought respite.
But somepony, despite the jostling, had noticed Celestia's tongue lolling. That pony held a camera aloft and she almost caught the scene: but, amid the violence of the pushing, no photograph was snapped. Still, the lime-mint-coated pony paid closer attention, even though she cradled a broken camera in her hooves.
SEVEN, EIGHT, and NINE: Into the Woods, Cleverness Interrupted, And a Comment Discursive to an Infinite Jest
Mudbriar, a gray dull pony, droned "A parable will illustrate the problem."
Some in Celestia's court groaned, but Celestia leaned forward. A story, perhaps, would distract her enough so her tongue would not loll and her stomach would not rumble.
Mudbriar continued: "Wood is alive: in the morning, noon, and night. It is as alive and sentient as cattle, which ponies once hunted for our parchment. Recall the day we learned the cattle's language and ask yourselves: will we be remembered as Clover the Clever, or will we be forgotten as unnamed mare number two four six oh one or unnamed Jenny eight six seven five three oh nine..."
His story began:
Clover the Clever was purchasing a parcel of parchment from Horse Apple, a crusty green-coated farming coot, and she took the opportunity to comment. "Its quality is remarkable!"
"Jest as remarkable as my baked goods," Horse Apple guffawed, gesturing to(N0. Delicious?) apple cake. "Infinitely jest as remarkable.(N1. Celestia wondered if this 'Horse Apple' was an ancestor of Applejack's.) (N2. Applejack was the mare who was supplying Ponyville's population for the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration. She came from a long line of apple-farming ponies and it was plausible that her line and Applejacks could be the same. All ponies had a common ancestor somewhere, except for her and her sister.)(N3. Celestia took a sharp breath as she reflected on her and her sister's genesis, sui generis, born from Discord's chaos only to overthrow the Discordant empire that had gripped Equestria and tossed it into destruction.)(N4. Discord was the Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony, and, Celestia mused, possibly her progenitor... it was a concerning thought given that she had turned him into stone.(N5. That stone statue now rested in the Canterlot castle gardens.)(N6-387. (omitted for brevity and those without 20/10 vision--Celestia's thoughts are quite rapid and discursive.)) (N1.ctd. But back to Applejack, Celestia had been watching that mare for some time, using one of her best "retired" agents, a one Sweetie Drops, to gather intelligence. And the intelligence told her... that Applejack was one of Equestria's strongest Earth ponies, both in terms of physicality and inner mettle. She could be a useful contact for Twilight Sparkle. And therefore, this Applejack might be a good fit for the Elements of Harmony that had rejected Celestia after her sister's banishment.) (N388. Post-Luna, Celestia had lost the Elements' affinity and hidden them deep in a castle within the Everfree forest.) In fact, Ponyville, where Twilight Sparkle was going, had several good candidates for element bearers. (N389. At least it did according to Sweetie Drops who'd identified an ultra-fast pegasus pony named Rainbow Dash who managed weather and a very talented unicorn named Rarity. Those three, and Twilight, should be strong enough to be able to wield the elements. Twilight could hold several much as Celestia had once. Celestia suspected that what mattered was that there was, in addition to Twilight who should bear the element of magic--)(N.390. Twilight's diligent studies should allow her to unlock it where Cadance had failed(--at least one other unicorn, an earth pony, and a pegasus.... But even so, the gambit probably wouldn't work.)(N391. Celestia sighed. She had, of course, tried a variation on the theory--an alicorn holding one element and a representative from each of the tribes holding another-- unicorn, earth, pegasus, kirin, hippogriff, but that exercise had been for naught. Still, sending Twilight on this errand) (N.392. However futile) (N.391 ctd. was better than giving up--wasn't it?) (N.392 And since appropriate element bearers had been identified--there was hope. At least until Nightmare Moon's apocalypse arrived.) ..."
Celestia's deep involvement in her inner thoughts about Apples and Elements led her to miss most of Mudbriar's potentially compelling parable. But she caught the ending.
"And having realized, with horror, that the cattle could *speak* and were *intelligent*, Princess Platinum, acting on the evidence presented to her from Clover the Clever who did not back down from her principles and positions despite being assailed and slandered, banned the processing of cattle into leather and parchment. Meanwhile, the unnamed jenny and mare who not only promoted use of cow parts for functional purposes but also consumption, fled--never again to be heard from." Mudbriar blinked. "Who among the Princess' advisors was the most wise?"
"Clover the Clever, of course," Celestia said.
"Then you must acknowledge that my advice on the evils of consuming timber is the same." Mudbriar smugly inclined his head.
"Can one of your pieces of timber speak?" Celestia asked. "I would have words with it--or she--one of them."
Mudbriar interpreted for a stick, but to Celestia that was an admission of inability to present valid evidence, so Celestia, having lost interest, sighed and her stomach rumbled: no cake.
TEN: A Comprehensive Celestia With Cheese
Mudbriar was still droning on when the large oaken door to the audience chamber burst open and a bloody-aproned stallion raced in, knocking aside Celestia's guards and then he flattened Mudbriar's main chalkboard and sent Mudbriar over it, skidding sideways. The stallion jumped over the disaster and skidded to a stop before Celestia.
"Your Comprehensive Celestia with Cheese." He bowed before her. She blinked. She knew this stallion. Otherwise, she would have stopped his zealous and threatening approach with a shout. But she had not ordered anything.
"You are mistaken," Celestia explained. "I requested no Comprehensive Celestia with Cheese."
"Ha!" He removed the top bun and tossed the bloody-red-sticky hayburger into Celestia's face.
Court observers recoiled, but none jumped to the Princess' defense because, as Celestia well knew, her ponies had become so infantilized as to be incapable of heroism. Although, she was a bit disappointed in her favorite guard--she had expected better of him.
Celestia regarded the assailing stallion with a raised eyebrow. And he met her eyebrow with a wider smile.
Then she laughed and spread her hooves. "Cheese Sandwich!"
"Celestia!" They hugged.
"Still trying to bring levity to my days at Court?" She asked.
"And to test your security." He whispered, too low for ponies other than her guards to hear.
She had mentioned her concerns to him last week....
Celestia's favorite royal guard, finally having extricated himself from behind the tossed-open massive oak doors--which explained his absence from her defense--pounced on Cheese Sandwich and began banging the stallion's rangy head into the ground.
"Shining Armor--desist!" Celestia commanded.
The guard stopped his assault.
"You recognize this pony, no?" Celestia asked.
"My head is still spinning." Shining Armor looked toward Celestia, but he did not meet her eyes.
"A lie!" Celestia frowned.
Shining Armor vomited.
"Oh," Celestia could appreciate commitment to one's statements and that vomit suggested either very high commitment or an enormously strong assault from Cheese Sandwich. "You should have that examined. Please take an escort to the infirmary."
"I'll be fine." Shining Armor stumbled back. Two guards caught him, their Captain and commander, and escorted him toward the doors.
Cheese Sandwich was massaging the back of his head and waiting for Celestia to comment. She removed the splattered hayburger from her face and licked its cheese. Not cake. But it could do for now and unlike the cake, eating it wouldn't put her into a state of delirious and ineffective bliss. He'd smothered it with sugar and mustard and mayonnaise and bloody red ketchup--just the way she liked it.
"Oh Cheese," Celestia smiled. "This is taking it too far." She watched a distant Shining Armor stumble and vomit again. Then he fainted and the guards, propping his body between them, carried him beyond the doors.
"But this is what I live for." Cheese grinned.
"No," Celestia shook her head. "What you live for is throwing parties. This is just to gather the income necessary for your grand journey."
Cheese spread his hooves. "You got me there, monarch of mine."
"Perhaps," Celestia reached for a proffered handkerchief from one of her guards--at least they were competent servants...sometimes. "The time may have come for you to receive a grand reward--you have demonstrated quite clearly that security can be improved." And he had also perhaps made a powerful enemy--Shining Armor had been struck low by a door, but if he had had a chance to get off a spell, Cheese would not be standing here now. While Celestia had faith in the character of her Captain, she also had faith that he might feel honor-bound to respond to his defeat with a turnabout clear defeat of Cheese Sandwich, an earth pony who had some power of flexibility, but not the traditional tribal stolidity. Celestia feared that he might bend and snap in half like one of those sliced sandwiches of his that he found so dear.
Cheese Sandwich grinned even wider.
And Celestia presented him coins and a plethora of party products. He kissed her cheek and licked up some last bit of cheese that had remained.
"Cheese!" She chided him.
"Indeed it was--distracting from your regal presence--glad to have fixed that!" He danced back from her.
Celestia shook her head. And Cheese Sandwich was gone, out on an expedition across Equestria. Celestia sighed and got on with hearing the rest of the petition line. No journalists from the normal papers had snapped any photographs--they knew better than to shame their Princess, but perhaps some of them would write about the incident--that was unavoidable--but manageable. The situation, absurd as it had been, was easy enough to play it off as a jest.
Barely noticed by Celestia, a lime-mint-coated unicorn slipped out after Cheese Sandwich's departure.
ELEVEN: Disputes
It was a dispute about a seat at a Wonderbolts performance. The Wonderbolts were wonderful in their aerial displays of dazzling, daunting, and daring feats of speed and technical ability, and apparently this skill led ponies to quarrel over seat placement.
Celestia, forcing herself not to grin at the absurdly clumsy judicial pandering each pony attempted--one had complimented her on her mane; the other, on her wisdom, separated Jet Set, a quarrelsome striving unicorn and Spoiled Rich, an arrogant earth pony. Then she assigned both of them "Friendship Homework". They'd probably half-flank it--at least Jet Set would based on prior performance, but maybe they'd learn something. Sometimes one needed to keep teaching the same lessons again and again before they sunk in.
If all of her petitions could be as quickly resolved as this, then she'd be dining on her succulent cake soon enough to satiate her rumbling tummy. Alas. ...
TWELVE: Wonderbolts
The next complaint was about the Wonderbolts themselves, from a photographer who wanted them to wear more photogenic uniforms.
Celestia told the individual to bring up the complaint with the Wonderbolts. The complainant responded she'd done so and they'd had her fill out form W-1001, the form to request a form to complain. She'd completed form 1001-W, which was processed and returned six weeks later with an indication that she needed to file her complaint with Princess Celestia who was ultimately responsible for regulations concerning their uniforms.
Celestia, not wanting to waste brain matter on the issue, directed the complainant back to the Wonderbolts to provide evidence of this alleged regulation before she would address it. Magnanimously, she also offered to consider the petition if the petitioner could point to the same regulation.
The petitioner left, dragging her back hooves aggressively and grumbling about crimes against fashion.
"You must put in the work," Celestia advised. If she didn't make her petitioners work for their requests, they'd overwhelm her more than she could endure--past the breaking point of sanity to the breaking point of kjfdity, a wondrous typographical error-filled kingdom of the mind adjacent to the tower of profuse illusion transposed against the multi-dimensional brain matter gelatin bowl of gossip (inane though it might be), which stretched out its overwhelming goo against many alleys of Celestia's mind.
And, just as awaiting cake and resolving inane problem after problem strengthened Celestia's character, cultivating patience and kindness and wisdom, the endless bureaucratic busywork she required made her subjects stronger ponies... probably. Without the forced work, they'd be mewling babes unable to follow byzantine instructions and obtain obscure forms. Indeed, bureaucratic busywork served a most necessary purpose. Certainly....
THIRTEEN
C is for cake, it's good enough for me.
A is for A cake, it's good enough for me.
K is for 'k I can have a cake, it's good enough for me.
E is what comes at the end of me and when I'm done then me can eat the cake you see.
An old rhyme from her childhood occurred to Celestia, then left her mind as court noise drowned out her thoughts.
FOURTEEN and FIFTEEN: Limerick and a Performance
A performer popped up and put out a boldly uttered phrase:
"There once was a pony princess fair
Of long and magically flowing hair
Despite sandwich thrown
Her mien was not blown
She did not fall into great despair."
"I wrote this limerick in your honor while observing your struggles!" The 'poet' proclaimed. "This will forever memorialize your composure and perseverance in the wake of a heinous assault."
Celestia blinked. "That assault was a lark--" She explained.
The poet batted away her explanation. She sighed. At least the poem hadn't been about cake... but maybe it had been... was a sandwich a type of cake? Both had layers, sandwiching mouth-watering stories, novels even between their grains.
"Even though you're looking stoic: you like it, but can't show it. Still, I know it." The poet continued. "Now, about my petition--"
Such a long day.
SIXTEEN, SEVENTEEN, EIGHTEEN, and NINETEEN: Frame and Limerick Lessons and Game and Haiku Hallucinations and a Lame Lime Paragraph
Celestia pondered, her thoughts piqued by poetry and how she could construct something better than what a loquacious limerickist vomited. She tried some words, in her mind.
"There once was a pony from Baltimare
Renowned of a fine mane of hair
A breeze came round
Blew it to the ground
An' suddenly no hair was there."
Did that even have the right meter for a limerick? How many syllables were there in Renowned? Her limerick had issues, yes. It could be better, but at least its theming didn't remind her of the sweet succulent cake she awaited... oh no. She'd lost(the game that is, the game (that she'd invented so she could focus) of not envisioning cake)--she'd thought about it. But maybe she could forget.
So anyway, why bother with perfection since limericks quite frankly, were inherently terrible. Almost as horrifying as bad puns. And feghoots. She was a fan of most everything clever that her perspicacious ponies had invented, but not those. At least not on an empty stomach. When famished, Celestia's thoughts turned mean, and weird. She shuddered.
The next petitioner was discussing the need for Equestria to adopt a flatter tax. They already had a flat tax. Those who could pay flatly paid. Celestia's scholars had debated the merits of variations on that theme ad nauseum hundreds of years ago and this pony was only offering rehashed concepts that Fried Mare and Monetary Keys had much more eloquently argued ages ago, so Celestia didn't have the brainpower to give the bore any attention. She manufactured another poem:
Cake wrapped like onigiri
Rain within a ruler's mouth
Unless tis a lie
Did that work? Onigiri, two syllables, wrapped--one. Rain symbolizing spring.
'Meh,' Celestia shrugged as the petitioner moved away. Who cared about the technicalities? She salivated, but caught herself before her mouth hung open. At least the exercise got her through another segment of her day.
The lime-mint-coated pony who had been carefully watching Celestia returned, with a new camera and a notepad. She pushed her way toward the front of the observation area.
TWENTY: Metamorphosis
A fly waited to be shooed. Three flies waited. Five flies buzzed around Celestia while she endured Ms. Harshwinny's delivery of a report about the economics of the Equestria Games and how the last three cities to hold same had suffered surprising economic losses. Bo-o-ring. No one wanted to hear about that--certainly not Celestia.
Her guards dozed and derelicted their duty. Even with their deficiencies demonstrated by Cheese Sandwich not an hour prior, when they were deprived of Captain Shining Armor's handsome oversight, they withered. No fly-shooing was being performed. Celestia activated her defensive shield for a moment.
"Princess?" Ms. Harshwhinny's nasally voice whined. Celestia's court awoke.
"Go on," Celestia indicated with a hoof. Her guards had also awoken, and they were looking at her in askance. She could upbraid them, but that too had consequences of making her seem weak for appointing incompetent soldiers and for abandoning her shielding efforts--her ponies and their gossip rags must see her as unassailable. But she was so tired. So old and tired. Over 1000 years as Equestria's ruler was enough, wasn't it? Her sister would return here soon enough.
Sweat slickened her perfect coat. She dropped her shield. She was not the hero she had been. Her guards still made no move to shoo the flies--ineffective without their captain. In his absence, the chain of command devolved to whom... ... Steady Eyes, Indigo Spot?
A fly alighted on Celestia's nose. She held back a sneeze. She meditated. Her nose tickled. She mediated deeper, descending into a state just before daydreaming and she--not literally--became a fly. "Buzzzz-Buzzzz-Buzzzzz."
She had been useful, a contributor to Equestrian society--its hero. But her powers had weakened... she could do little more for her little ponies. Her sister, on return, would crush Equestria just as Celestia longed to crush the smaller fly on her nose, although she dared not crush the insect out of a sense of decorum--the gossip rags would love to hear that Celestia had crushed a fly--a job for her guard. If the rags got hold of the story then foreign powers may conclude Celestia's guards were undisciplined and weak--a perhaps inevitable conclusion given Cheese Sandwich's testing, or still worse, conclusions may be made that her magic was declining.
Was she, like everypony, doomed eventually to become a metaphorical fly? A parasite no one wanted since she was no longer able to contribute; her magic disabled? She who once provided for all now forced to be provided for in turn, then to be despised and forgotten.
The thoughts were too gloomy. Her nose no longer itched even though three flies had alighted. But Celestia didn't want to be a fly.
Celestia's magic crushed the flies upon her nose. She smiled bloody-snouted in triumph.
A camera shutter clicked.
Author's Note
... Will all of the references be guessed?
This idea arrived about a millisecond after I read the warning sentence in Fan of Most Everything's contest post: "I’d still like to see some creative choices rather than, say, forty Celestia-Perserverance stories about her toughing out an obnoxious day on the throne while looking forward to a slice of cake." So, of course, I made sure not to write forty.
Celestia's view on Prance is her own, as is the case for all characters' views.
Can't get enough Hayburgers? Try:
ETwilight Sparkle, Ruler of Equestria, orders hayburger delivery at 1am
Princess Twilight Sparkle is hungry at 1am, and she’s in the mood for hayburgers, so she has some sent to the royal castle. And that’s it. Nothing else happens.
Mica ·
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Caaake Poems?
EFor Want of Cake
Luna just wants a piece of cake.
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