It had happened, Celestia realized with slowly dawning horror. It had really and truly happened. The unthinkable had finally happened.
The mighty, untouchable princess was no more, her image shattered like one of the castle windows under the force of a ball.
To be perfectly honest, a part of her had known it was coming. Her record had been too perfect. Things had been going too smoothly. By this point, it had almost been expected.
Unhoped for, of course; but not unexpected.
For too long, she’d been too proud. Overconfident. Dare she say, even haughty. She had become a victim of her own hubris, convinced of her own projected aura of being immune to these kinds of things. That she was immutable. Undefeatable. Untamable.
And now, as her pride vanished like the dew before her morning sun, she had to admit that she was not.
But what an ignominious way to taste defeat! She had numerous victories to her name. Her own sister, overtaken by the Nightmare, restored again to full fellowship. Discord, turned to stone and then reformed. Chrysalis and the changeling invasion thwarted. Sombra, vanquished and the Crystal Empire freed.
Well, she did have some help with a few of those.
Most of those, actually.
But they still counted, in her opinion. And yet now, to be brought so low by an enemy so mean, so subtle, so unassuming, it really was more than a little bit distressing. It shook her like she’d never been shaken before.
After all, a defeat like this would not be easily forgotten. No, not something like this. How could it be? She was head of the state, symbolic of her nation, a shining white pillar of virtue and grace. This would fly in the face of all of that. Ponies would have seen.
Ponies would know.
Ponies would never forget.
They would never be able to unsee their princess so humiliated.
Would they ever be able to look at her the same again, having seen her subjected to such shame? Having seen her so undignified? So debased? So… mortal? Would she be forever tarnished in their eyes? She couldn’t begin to pretend to convince herself. Her shame was just too great.
And yet, even in this time of anguish, a spark of hope flickered in her chest. Perhaps she could recover. Perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps she could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
But as soon as she thought that, that flicker died, darkened by the cold hoof of reality. She was too far gone, she could already tell. There would be no recovery, no playing this off or brushing it under the rug. No, she had really and truly fallen, and there was no point in trying to deny it. There would only be fallout, and she would have to stand tall, this egg spread all across her face, and face whatever consequences would come.
All these thoughts flew through her mind as she descended to the ground with all the poise and grace of a fat pigeon that had lost its footing and fallen off the roof, and she hit the ground with a sound similar to a rubber duck being squeezed as her own weight and momentum compressed her lungs. Her mane and tail whipped forward from her sudden stop, cascading messily over her face, and her crown flew off her head. It bounced along the marble floors, making pealing, bell-like ringing noises as it did, as if announcing to the castle that something noteworthy had happened and inviting all to come and see.
She quickly lit her horn and teleported it back to the top of her head, stopping the noise, then pushed herself up. With a little kick, she extricated her left hind hoof from the carpet upon which it had snagged, then quickly slid her shoe back on. Her first steps towards recovery completed, she then glanced around to check for witnesses.
On one side, an older guard stood against the wall, maintaining the stony expression her guards were known for. She felt a quick flash of worry, followed by relief. There was a very good chance he would never tell anypony, just out of respect for her. And even if he did, he would be retiring soon, and the story would eventually die with him.
And then her eyes flicked over to the other side, where a younger guard stood, and she felt her smile tighten. Not quite as accustomed to the requisite stoicism, he was staring wide-eyed at what he’d just seen, his head turned slightly to get a better view. Great. He’d be telling this story tonight for sure.
The worst part was there wasn’t anything she could do. She couldn’t reassign him or dismiss him, especially if he hadn’t done anything wrong. Ponies might start asking questions as to why he was being singled out, and then he’d tell this story and then more ponies would know, and worse, believe it because why else would the princess react that way? No, she would have to do nothing, accept it, and let the chips fall where they may.
Now, if this had been all the witnesses to her failure, she may have been able to brush this off.
But then, she looked up and saw the very last pony she had hoped to see. She could almost hear those high, rising violins heralding this occasion like harbingers of doom.
Her sister, Princess Luna, stood there, standing still, eyes wide, holding a large bunch of lavender in her magic aura. She was doing her nightly rounds of caring for the sleep of the castle inhabitants, and through sheer luck, she must have just walked in right as Celestia had tripped.
Their eyes met.
For a long moment, neither sister said anything.
And then a little smile started spreading across her sister’s lips.
Celestia let out a long, low sigh. Welp. It had been nice while it lasted.
Maybe she should just retire.
Author's Note
As she’s falling.
When Luna smiles.
