Putrid

The sun stared at her from behind her lace curtains. She tried to hide from it, she tried to roll over in bed to ignore it, but its burning gaze somehow managed to penetrate the fat of her skull. Now the sun was the only thing Celestia thought about, and perhaps it only wanted to make sure she was okay, but she felt too embarrassed to face it. How pitiful she became. No longer was she all powerful, no, she was like any old mare, but she wasn’t any old mare. Her body was as cosmic as the stars. She was born for greatness—accomplished greatness, yet somehow, with all said greatness, she managed to get pregnant.

It was magic.

Yes, yes just magic, and she had quite the case ahead of her to find out who inflicted her with the parasite. There surely weren’t many wizards in Equestria with the ability to stealthily cast an incantation strong enough to penetrate her alicorn defenses and at a distance too, since Celestia would definitely know if it were close range. At least she’d like to think so. The sun would know. The sun was still staring. “Go away.” She whispered as she stared right back at the fleeting light.

It couldn’t hear her.

What was the sun but a floating gas ball trillions of miles away. It had no voice, no beating heart, no will to live.

Huh.

No will to live. Even a nasty little thing had one of those. Even a nasty little vermin that would dare to invade her body had a Will to survive, to carry on, to fight for life. It still struggled for air, probably. It still squirmed in a towel like an earth worm in the soil. Or maybe it died. It likely died with its snout all covered in mucus. There was no way that creature survived.

There was just no way her thing—that thing was still alive.

Had she forgotten to breathe? Celestia inhaled, took in such deep breath that her lungs inflated double their original size, and she rolled over again to face the window. She exhaled as she shut her eyes tightly. There was no baby. There was magic.

How could she let this happen? How could she let her guard down to allow—no it wasn’t her fault. It was the fault of a blasphemous little pony who dared to go against their goddess. How dare they. How dare they violate her. How dare they have such boldness—such the gull to put—to come out of her as if she couldn’t rain down the wraith of a burning sun on their miserable little existence. Once she got her hooves on whoever was responsible, she would not hold back. Oh, she would let them know why one doesn’t mess with a sun goddess, even if there’s blood to pay.

“Knock, knock.” A gentle voice murmured as it unintentionally calmed her rage. Celestia hadn’t realized the temperature in the room had
soared until Luna turned the metal door knob and yelped in pain. “Ow!” She flapped her hoof like a penguin attempting flight. “Did you intend to prank me, dearest sister?”

Prank? “Ahh, no.” A goddess had no time for that. “I believe it is simply my fever’s doing.” Celestia didn’t break a sweat, but it was less due to her heat resistance and more to do with the stiffness in her muscles. Yet she felt so tender between her legs, specifically her teets that now decided to turn the faucet on and pour milk everywhere. Disgusting. Celestia brought her blanket up to her chin and buried herself in more pillows. “I apologize for this evening. I hate to cancel on you, Luna, but I’m not well.” She was from it, but her sickness went beyond physical.

The sun was setting quickly, and as the moon mare trotted closer towards the bed, a cool shadow followed tightly behind. In her magic was parchment and quills. She wore reading glasses on her midnight snout, and she tied her mane up above her head into a messy bun. This was Work Luna. Super Focused Luna. It was a pleasant thing to witness, but shocking that she would be so willing to break her flow just to chat with her sister.

“Please, don’t apologize. Your wellness takes prominence over all else.” Sigh blue magic, the covers were lifted and Luna scooted into the bed next to Celestia with a smile. The paper and quill rested right in front of her hooves. The feather brushed Celestia’s snout. “Shall I summon a doctor? I’m certain they’ll be able to—“

“No.” It was nearly yelled, yet Celestia caught her tone. “No doctors.” She knew what was wrong just like she could pinpoint every nerve, blood vessel, and cell in her body. Who needed a bunch of white coats to point out her fatigue was due to the strenuous task of pushing life from her body—be it magical or not—because she did not. Beyond that, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to find out she somehow, someway, was impregna like any old mare. Like she wasn’t capable of rising the moon and the sun all with her own magic. Like she didn’t rule for millennia. Like she wasn’t a—

“Sister?” The room was heating up again. Luna held up her charred paper to prove it. “Are you certain? You are awfully hot.” She placed a hoof to her forehead only to pull away just like with the door knob. “Yes, this doesn’t seem normal.”

What does she know? She’s been on the moon longer than the two have been together. They were strangers more than sisters—so estranged that Luna couldn’t even tell the fat was abnormal. “Luna, please. I know what is best for my body, and it does not require a doctor.” More milk was oozing down her leg, bubbling, coming to a boil, than solidifying in the rising temperature. She grabbed another pillow. “We overindulged on seafood, and now I’m paying the price, but I can assure you come morning I’ll be just fine.”

Through the rims of her glasses, her younger sister studied her—and how dare she. She looked for signs of deceit as if Celestia was just any old pony, like she had the right to. Why this angered her, Celestia did not know.

And Luna asked. “Are you certain?”

And the wallpaper was peeling from the walls, burning black at the edges, slowly crumbling to char. “I’m very certain.”

To drop the subject, and get a hold of her emotions, Celestia picked up one of the parchment and read it over. “How is your foal’s book coming along? I see you made it to chapter 3.”

As the room cooled so did Luna’s nerves. “Yes, I have been working diligently this past hour, and I have managed to tame the beast that is writer’s block by returning to my roots.” A bit of her empyrean mane got in her face. Luna made a poor attempt to tuck it into her bun. “My time away was filled with daydreams, storytelling, an imagination I didn’t know I held.” A small smile faded on her lips. “Of course, I only had an audience of two; myself and the moon beneath me. It wasn’t as nerve wrecking then.”

Celestia didn’t hear her. There were many doodles on the sides of the parchment. A particular rabbit on a crescent moon caught her eye, and she’s been watching as if it could come to life and hop off the page. She didn’t find it particularly offensive—not the moon, but definitely the rabbit. Why was it so fat? What was Luna trying to say? “What an interesting interruption of a rodent.”

Luna tilted her head in confusion. “Rodent?” And she too tried to see what her sister was referring to. The rabbit was the only doodle. “That is Bin Bun, the protector of Buntopia; a civilization on the surface of the moon.” Luna looked at the drawing fondly. “I know I haven’t discussed my book in detail with you sister, but she is a major part of it. I just hope foals—young creatures all across the world will love her.” Her voice dimmed. “I know I did when I was all alone, but I really saw them sometimes, Tia.”

Again, her sister’s words went unheard. Celestia couldn’t peel her eyes from the rabbit. It was smiling despite having such a bloated stomach. How could any being look so happy with such a condition? “Why is it fat?” She asked coldly as if the drawing was just insulting her whole being. What a fat, unless rabbit.

Luna’s ears fell in embarrassment. “Well, uh, I suppose that was simply my art style, but upon second look it does appear quite ridiculous.” She took the paper from Celestia’s magic and immediately tucked it away. Despite her dark coat, a burning red appeared on her flustered face. “I’ll design something better.”

With the rabbit gone, whatever self imposed mental spell Celestia found herself in was broken. It was then that she realized the gravity of her comment, and how much it hurt, and perhaps it wasn’t intentional. Perhaps she didn’t know. It was far too easy to get lost in her head, and now she wondered if this feeling was genuine stress. Since the return of Nightmare Moon, Celestia had experienced more stress in those five years following than all her years of ruling, so she’d know that familiar feeling. Whatever she was currently experiencing was something entirely different.

“No, Luna, I didn’t mean it like that. In fact, I find your creation gorgeous, not to mention you have improved tremendously since the last time I’ve seen a drawing of yours.” A warm hoof was placed on the younger mare’s back.

Luna lit up as bright as a full moon. “Oh, that’s because it has been centuries.” She giggled, covered her mouth with her fetlock, and drew closer to her sister to soak up more of her sunlight. “Do you sincerely like it? Please don’t hold back for my sake.”

With a smile like Luna’s, how could Celestia ever feel disjointed? It would all work out like it always does. There was no reason to stress because there was no baby, magical or not. There was no illness, no dripping milk, no lies either. There was just Celestia and her little Luna.

“Of course I do.” She pulled her in for a tight hug. Their cheeks squished together like marshmallows between graham crackers. “I suppose I was thinking aloud and, well, not thinking at all. Rabbits are supposed to be that big.” But an ambrosial body is not. She was leaking milk everywhere—she was no longer thinking about it. “Upon second thought, I think I am in the mood for that jog.” Celestia sat up to look more lively.

“Are you certain? You did say you weren’t feeling—“

The blankets were ripped off of her while Celestia leaped out of bed with long sturdy legs. She pranced around her room to prove she was peachy keen. Her tail flew behind her, her tail whipped against the sun on her flank, and she’d pose in such a way to hide the dripping milk. Luckily, she was blessed with a coat that could conceal its color from a distance. “Would I, Princess Celestia, really be afflicted with illness?” It was a rhetorical question said with such hubris that one would assume she was joking. Celestia wasn’t sure if she was or not, so she continued before Luna could respond. “My body is a self healing temple, and it’s all better now, so go on and get ready! We have a beach to trample on!” She held her horn high and spread her wings like a peacock showcasing his features. It likely wasn’t fooling Luna, but this pep talk wasn’t for her sister.

It was for herself.

“Alright, dearest sister. We can trample on the beach, as you put it.” Luna giggled again, and Celestia fought to keep her smile.