When The Sun Sets
“I never realized how handy it was to have an ethereal mane until this,” Celestia muttered, as she slowly shuffled out of the bathroom. She hadn’t eaten anything since the day before, but that didn’t stop her stomach from wanting to purge its contents every few hours.
“Yes, having vomit in your mane might actually be the one thing to finally dampen your endless popularity,” Luna replied in an off-hoof tone, not looking up as she continued to jot away with a quill.
Despite how terrible she felt, Celestia managed a weak smile. Luna had been doing her best to keep Celestia on her hooves with light jibes and teasing, and she appreciated it very much. It was far preferable to the way most other ponies treated her at the moment, as though she were something made of the most precious glass, ready to break if merely breathed upon.
She slowly settled down onto the large cushion in the center of the room, conscious of her aching joints.
That was the worst part, really. While her age was such that the candles on her birthday cake were more akin to a bonfire, she had never actually felt all that old.
Not until a few months ago, when she’d first found a lump where her right foreleg met her barrel. She’d been tempted to ignore it, but consistent prodding from Luna had led her to make a discreet appointment with a doctor.
She’d learned a lot of new terms that day, but the one that had kept coming back to haunt her thoughts was cancer.
She’d known about cancer, of course. She’d lost friends, advisors, staff to it over the centuries, and had comforted many of the families in the aftermath. Advances in medical science had made it a much less common thing, but it still happened.
It was one thing to be aware of something; quite another to have it happen to you.
And of course, between being a former princess and being a case study of the first occurrence of cancer in an Alicorn, all of Equestria and the surrounding areas had known about it within a week of the initial diagnosis.
That part - not having privacy - bothered her less than it had bothered Luna, and far less than it had bothered Twilight, who had been on the verge of signing a decree to shutter any newspaper that dared report such ‘scandalous rumors’.
It had taken several hours to calm the youngest princess down once she’d realized the rumors were true. To her credit, she’d remained calm since that initial breakdown, visiting occasionally as her schedule permitted, but never becoming overbearing.
Her legacy. Luna tended to roll her eyes when Celestia remarked that the education and training of Twilight was the most important thing she’d ever done, but Celestia truly believed it.
A thousand years of peace could vanish in an instant if not properly stewarded. Knowing that everything she’d worked so hard to build was in good hooves was of great comfort to her, particularly now, when death felt closer than it ever had.
“Stop that,” Luna said, again not looking up.
Celestia turned a little, lifting her head to look at her sister. “Stop what?”
“Stop reflecting on the past.” Now Luna did look up, the smirk on her face not fully reflected in her eyes. “Being mopey isn’t going to help you get better.”
“I am not mopey,” Celestia replied. She settled back onto the cushion. “I’m merely…contemplative.”
“Well, be of some use and help contemplate this crossword. What’s a nine-letter word for suggest? T in the fourth position.”
“Postulate.”
“Ah.” Luna scribbled it down. “Excellent. Small trace of color, five letters?”
“Hints?”
“G in the fourth spot.”
“Tinge?”
“Thanks.”
They passed the next half-hour solving the Canterlot Times crossword together.
“Wonderful,” Luna finally said, tossing the folded paper onto the small table next to her chair. “I should have asked for your help earlier.”
Celestia snorted. “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”
“Well, when the book you suggested turned out to be as dull as ditchwater, I had to find something to pass the day.”
“As Time Goes By is a classic novel!”
“Classic just means boring, sister, or so Starlight tells me.” Luna chuckled. “Of course, neither of us would ever dare say such a thing around Twilight. That might cause an incident.”
Celestia opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, starting to breathe deeply through her nose.
Luna, well accustomed to what that meant, gave her sister a patient sigh. “Come on, Tia. Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
It was another half-hour before Celestia’s stomach felt like it was finally - finally - ready to relax.
“That should be the worst of it,” Luna said, one wing draped over Celestia’s back as she guided her back to her cushion. She tried not to notice that Celestia’s ribs were starting to show, or how bony her back felt. “It’s been twelve hours since they took you off the medicine.”
“Twelve hours,” Celestia muttered, nodding. Gears clicked in her mind, and she frowned, looking out the window. “Luna, we came in here at ten, yes?”
“A few minutes before. You were eager to get this last treatment over with.”
“Then shouldn’t the sun be down?” Celestia felt her heart start to race. “Something must have happened. Quickly, fly to Canterlot and check on Twilight. She must need help.”
“Apart from a slight wing cramp, I’m fine.”
Both sisters turned to see their successor standing in the doorway, a wry smile on her face.
“You weren’t kidding about the exercise,” Twilight continued as she stepped into the room, closing the door gently. “I definitely need to set aside some time to fly more.”
“Twilight, you forgot to lower the sun,” Celestia said, trying not to sound too cross. “You can’t do that just because you were flying to see me.”
“I didn’t forget.” Twilight pulled a small bundle of scrolls from her saddlebag. “You really don’t read the papers, do you?”
Celestia shot a dirty look at Luna. “Somepony thinks it’s bad for my blood pressure.”
“You have enough things to worry about, Tia,” Luna replied, clearly having made this argument before.
With a flourish, Twilight set the scroll bundle down, and pulled the folded Canterlot Times from the table where Luna had left it. Unfolding it, she held the front page where Celestia could read.
“THE DAY WITHOUT A NIGHT” the main headline read, in the Times’s traditional block script. Below, the secondary headline added, “SUN TO REMAIN IN SKY FOR ONE FULL DAY TO HONOR FORMER PRINCESS”
“We’ve been setting it up for weeks,” Twilight added. “I’m actually kinda glad it was a surprise.”
Below the main article, a smaller second one read: “Vigils Planned for Celestia in Every City in Equestria”
Celestia felt numb. All this, for her?
Twilight raised the pile of scrolls once more. “And I came to deliver these in person. Your students made me promise I would.”
A few years into her retirement, once she'd felt well-traveled and ready to settle down, Celestia had taken up teaching a weekly class to the youngest students at the School for Gifted Unicorns, both as a diversion from boredom, and because she loved teaching inquisitive young minds. Naturally, when she’d had her diagnosis, she’d been forced to take a leave of absence, something Twilight had accommodated without complaint.
She felt a burn of shame that she hadn’t so much as written to them.
“None of that,” Luna said, poking her gently with a hoof. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”
“And you are far too good at reading my mind,” Celestia replied, but her tone was soft. She took the bundle of scrolls, sitting down on her cushion to read them.
“Get well soon!” the first one read, a foal’s crude crayon drawing depicting her being cared for by what looked like a doctor.
“We miss you, Miss Celestia!” the second read.
“I hope you get better soon!” the third read.
She had to hold them carefully away from her face, lest she soak the letters with the tears that continued to fall as she read each individual scroll. Oh, how she’d missed her bright young students. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to fly to them right then, grabbing them all up in the biggest, warmest hug she could manage.
“You’ll be back soon, right?” Twilight’s voice was half-hopeful, half-commanding. Not befitting a ruler, but befitting a friend…no, a daughter.
“I’ll do my best,” Celestia promised, meaning it.
After Twilight had said her goodbyes, promising to visit again soon, Luna had helped Celestia to hang the letters around the dreary hospital room. And while the sun would be staying in the sky the whole night, Celestia needed her sleep, so Luna drew the curtains and draped a blanket across her sister’s form.
“Good night, sister,” she whispered, briefly touching their noses together. “I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Luna,” Celestia replied. “For everything.”
Luna smiled. “What else are sisters for?” She winked. “Besides relentless teasing, of course.”
“Of course.” Celestia smiled. “Good night, Luna.”
As Celestia lay there, waiting to fall asleep, she came back to something one of the doctors had told her.
“Some of my patients say that they like to visualize the cancer, and tell it they’re going to beat it.” In response to Celestia’s raised eyebrow, the doctor had shrugged. “I can’t say it actually helps, but I can’t say it doesn’t help either. Might be worth a shot.”
She was too tired to visualize much of anything, but she still felt the stirrings in her chest, the determination to fight.
She’d been a fool, wallowing about in how her legacy was secure. To ordinary ponies, it might have seemed foolish or even greedy to want to do more, after she’d done so much.
But she wanted to, damn it. She wanted to teach those young foals, and the classes that would follow after them. She wanted to be there for Twilight, see how she continued to grow and learn. And she couldn’t do that if she went and died.
“I’m going to beat you,” she whispered. “I’m going to win.”
The room, of course, did not answer. But she didn’t need it to.
Tweaking the blanket just a little, she turned her head, closed her eyes, and went to sleep.
