Author's Note
I know something is wrong. I don't know what. Please tell me. I just need this out of my head.
Lives in ink
Princess Celestia sighed as she drooped in her seat. The last of the petitioners had just left her court and left the princess alone with her guards. She stood up to leave, and the guards formed a box around her. Her tired mind barely registered the time it took for her and her entourage to get to the royal dining room. No one else was present as Luna was no doubt still asleep. Celestia sat down at the table as her guards spread out across the room. Then a butler trotted in through the servant’s entrance off to Celestia’s side.
He clopped right up to the princess with a small notepad in hoof and in a Prench accent, spoke.
“What would our grand princess of the day like for lunch?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but the loyal servant cut in.
“The royal chef and the royal dietician would both like to remind you that cake is not a meal, and will not be served as such.”
Celestia closed her eyes, nodded, then opened her mouth to speak. However, the determined servant made one last remark.
“I also must inform you, with great regret I might add, that the two have collaborated on the decision that you should limit yourself to one cake a day. As such, the pastry chefs have been properly threatened into cooperation this time.”
Celestia scowled at the unfortunate messenger before sighing.
“Very well.”
She looked up in thought.
“How about a Neighpolian salad?”
“Excellent choice dear princess. I’ll have the chefs on it right away!”
The butler beat a hasty retreat towards the kitchens, while the guards shifted in nervousness. The oblivious princess scowled at the table. She took a couple deep breaths before returning an even gaze forward.
I will be having a word with those two. I’m over two thousand years old for star's sake, I know what I should and should not eat
The strangling silence hung over the room like a city smog. The guards continued shifting, the princess continued staring at the servant's entrance, and the kitchen continued rushing to fill the royal request. It only took a couple of minutes for the chefs to piece together a suitable meal, and only a couple more for the butler to reach the dining room.
Celestia focused entirely on the plate moving towards her. A silvery bowl blocked sight of the contents, but her mouth still watered at the thought of what lie within. Just as the butler reached the table he froze. His eyes still on the table, hoof in position, ready to set the no doubt heavy plate down. However, he didn’t move. Celestia raised an eyebrow before she flicked her gaze around the room only to find that the guards had not reacted.
The princess frowned as she slipped the plate from the butler’s grasp. The entire time it took her to hover the food over to her, the butler still had not shifted.
“You may go now, sir.”
The stallion did not move.
“I said you were dismissed.”
No movement. Celestia’s frown deepened as she trotted around the table. She got right up next to the petrified servant and tapped the stallion on the shoulder.
…
No response.
…
Two more taps
…
She leaned around the staff member to get a closer look at his face. His eyes had not left the spot meant for the plate he held earlier. Celestia leaned back while her brows furrowed. She sent scan after scan into the butler and nothing stood out. He was healthy, with no residual magic left by any sort of spell, not even any chaos remnants left by Discords rampage! Nothing. Was. Wrong. Yet here he stood, more still than a statue.
Celestia was about to call out to her guards but stopped herself. She heard humming… She twitched her ears around, but the musical thrumming voice sounded the same in every direction. The beat was slow and powerful, while a melody trilled about above. It sounded as if three people were humming a harmony but felt like one. Her chest vibrated with the base, and the melody echoed in her head. Whispers tickled the edge of her hearing. Saying everything there was to say without Celestia comprehending a thing being said.
“WHO’S THERE? SHOW YOURSELF”
The royal Canterlot voice thundered through the void. Usually, the ground would vibrate, and the windows would shake but now? The table sat still, the windows lay peacefully in their fittings, and the nearby ponies didn’t react. However, the humming did stop, and Celestia saw her own breath grow foggy. The princess shivered as she scanned the room with any kind of sense she had. Nothing stood within sight, she heard no changes, she felt nothing different past the encroaching cold, even her magic found no disturbances.
“Why. Aren’t. You. Frozen?”
The voice was tritone. Reaching into the depths of the bass, while trilling about with a tenor above. The deep part came first to rattle her skeleton, the middle followed less than a second behind, and the highest piece trailed a moment behind the second. Celestia took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Who are you?”
“What?”
“I said, who are you.”
“What?”
“Oh for the love of. WHO ARE YOU?”
“Screw it, I’m bringing you closer whoever you are. Stay very still!”
Celestia tilted her head in confusion before a multitude of black tentacles, with a diameter similar to her barrel, snapped out from nothing to wrap her up completely. A swirling black vortex formed beneath her, and she was dragged in.
The tentacles uncoiled from the princess and snapped downwards into the void. Emptiness surrounded Celestia. Every way she looked, only blackness would greet her. Her hooves were on a hard black surface, but she couldn’t make out what it was. The princess stepped forward, backward, and to either side. However, she found no differences. So she looked up. Up and up and up. She stared into the abyss and found that it stared back. A single eye looked down at her. There was no white, no color, only black, but she could still perceive it. Still see the outline of the orb. It was no different in color, but she could feel that it was there. The ache in the back of her head worsened the longer she held that empty gaze.
Celestia shook her head to break the spell.
“Who are you, and why have you brought me here?”
“I brought you here because I couldn’t hear you well. As for who I am.”
The trinity of voices paused.
“I… am a storyteller.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow.
“Is that your name? Storyteller?”
The responding laughter was short and demonic.
“No-no-no. My name is Ú̵̱̯̳̪̱̍̐̿̂͝ṋ̷̞͈̪̭̃͂̆̓̎͘z̸͉͕̤̟̱̃͌̽͌̇k̸͇̫̺̪̤̀̌́̀̕¢̶̡̱̦̫̻̃̉͌̈̇h̴̨̬̩͈̜̉́̑͗̂†̵̧̭̳̹̤̿̇͊̔̚k̸̯̲̱͙͎̒͐͐͒̀†̵̢͇͈̩͖̆͌̌̕̕ḫ̴̪͍̰̍̈̏̏̚͜ð̸͉͕̼̫̪̀̑̋̄͊l̶͉̥̺̜̝̓̂̂̚͘ð̷̡̗̫̲̟͐̈͗̿͗. Or Faust if you couldn’t understand the first.”
Celestia blinked, shook her head, and pressed on.
“Well, then Faust. Would you care to explain why my world is currently frozen?”
Her glare and scolding tone did not faze the grand eye above.
“I’m trying to decide what story I wish to tell.”
Celestia tilted her head.
“What do you mean ‘story to tell.’ It’s a world, not a book to be written. It already exists, already has lives that progress, and already has a future.”
“I weave grand stories of wonder or woe. Sometimes neither, sometimes both. It is my purpose, my duty to write out fate, to find the story that every world must tell.”
“Write out fate? What do you mean by that? Nothing is powerful enough to force-”
“I decide what will happen and what will not. I may spell out a silly little slice of life, tell the tales of grand heroes, or will the victory of dark villains. I make the story.”
“You allow evil’s victory? You allow wrong to dominate right?”
“I wish the outcome to hold meaning. Sometimes that requires true stakes, like that of evil’s success. How would we call a future bright if there were no dark spots to compare? How do we define good if evil does not exist? How do we make subjective judgments about what is right if there is no wrong to make contrast?”
“This is very true when handling parchment and ink, but you play with people and lives! You seek to move us around on some grand chessboard where only you sit as a player? You play games with life and death just so you can ‘tell a story?’”
The eye’s pupil flashed red.
“This is no game, this is fate, this is a story. I do not take part in such frivolous things while handling souls. That chessboard metaphor is also inaccurate. Everything is as it is because I will it so. I choose where everything starts, I choose where everything will go, and I decide how it will arrive at its destination.”
“You have no right! To weave fate as you desire is to take free will from those who already live! It trivializes accomplishments and makes life meaningless. Are we worth nothing? Do our lives lack meaning without serving a greater story? I should believe not. You, I, one of my guards, even beings such as Discord or Tirek should all have a choice! We have the right to live and love as we choose, and you do not have the right to take that from us.”
Celestia was left panting after her speech, but the void around her only swirled and the eye blinked.
“I created you. Your purpose, your whole world’s purpose is to tell a story. A story like no other. A story for both the young and the old. A story that holds truth within its lies and morals behind its chapters. I have no right? As your creator, I have every. Right. To do as I please. Besides, what greater fate is there than to fulfill one’s purpose?”
Celestia glared into the abyss.
“We should still have the right to choose our purpose. Not have it decided by some eldritch horror from beyond the veil.”
“No! It would ruin my story! It would poison the morals, burn away the truth, and remove any sense of direction within the plot! What would I do if Equestria had no ruler because the one destined for it chose to settle down and get married? What conflict would there be if villains were not made? What. is. The point. Of making you. If you can’t even do what I made you for?”
Celestia’s face was covered in a scowl and venom dripped from her words as if they were a snake’s fangs.
“If your story is so great, then why not explain it. Tell me oh great weaver of fate. What have you laid out for my ponies.”
Dead silence ruled the void.
“Well? What’s so great about it? Why do you feel the need to ruin the free will of every living thing on this planet?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know… I could tell a tale of two sisters long lost and rejoined. I could speak of conquests that raged from ocean to ocean. I could bring about an apocalypse and show how your kind would survive in the aftermath. So many stories. All-new, all-old. A hero's journey? Done to death. A forbidden romance? Cliched and horrible. There are no new ideas anymore!”
Celestia let a smile spread across her face.
“Then why not let us tell our own tales hm? You’ve given us quite the world to work with, so there should be no shortage of legends being forged. You made life, now let us live it.”
“But how would that be unique? Cliches exist for a reason, and many stories end up falling into one or another for said reasons. How would I know the end to be satisfying? How would I know that there’ll be conflict? How will I know that a story will be the result instead of an incoherent mess?”
“Are cliches truly that horrible to you?”
“Not cliches themselves no, but the stagnation that they represent. The lack of creativity that is evidenced by such tropes.”
“Is life a cliche?”
“Well yes and no. We all live our lives, so it is the oldest story ever told. However, every life is different, every life has a twist, a special meaning. Even if that meaning is that life has no intended meaning.”
“Then why not tell a story of life?”
“Slice of life is an interesting genre, but I belie-”
“No, not ‘Slice of life.’ I mean life itself. Why not let life be your story?”
“How is ‘life’ a story? The only connection I see is that they’re both a string of linear events.”
“Life is all stories put together. Every story ever told has aspects of life, or is an aspect of life. Adventure? The thrill of discovery in life. Horror? The scary pieces of life that all must face. Romance and slice of life? Both are more literal pieces of the greater whole that is life.”
Faust hummed, and the void swirled.
“So to spin the tale of life is to tell every story one could imagine.”
“Yes.”
Faust paused once more.
“Then what a story I will tell.”
“No.”
The void froze.
“What do you mean ‘no?’ I must tell a story!”
Celestia smiled.
“That’s the thing about life. The best stories it can tell can’t be forced or ‘told’ by anyone. They just happen.”
“So… I just… watch?”
“I never said you couldn’t be part of the story! You just need to allow others to make their own pieces of it.”
“You make an interesting point little princess... Maybe I will do just as you say, and let life be its own story.”
Before Celestia could respond a horde of tentacles appeared from the surrounding void to wrap around her. They ripped Celestia downwards through another swirling vortex and set her down on the dining room floor. When the princess got up they were gone. She looked around, but only saw her confused guards and no butler. Shaking her head, Celestia sat down at her previous seat while muttering to herself.
“I wonder who tells the story now?”
