Author's Note

Happy Valentine’s Day! To celebrate, here is Celestia going supernova.

It Blew

The longing she endured could snatch the breath from her lungs. Alone, again, and after their long awaited reunion. Days had passed, yet Luna still hadn’t returned home. The thought that her sister, under her grief for Celestia’s innocence, had abandoned her for good—She couldn’t take it this time, not while her mind had already begun to crack. They were soulmates, a yin and yang, quite literally day and night. Before there was Equestria, before there were ponies who could tell the stars apart from the flames that ravaged the land, there were the Two Sisters bounded by the cosmos.

When Luna was away on the moon Celestia could still feel her beating heart. Through their shared magic she could hold her close to comfort her, and when she changed day into night, Luna’s presence became even stronger.

So she tried hard to dream that night in hopes of her dearest sister passing by.

Luna never came.

By the time Twilight raised the sun, Celestia still found herself alone with no one but her own thoughts and a wicked little parasite leeching from her.

“I hate you,” she growled at it, tugging it by the root of its scalp to punish it for daring to nurse from her. “I hate you!” She’d scream as it wailed back when she hit it for no reason in particular. Hadn’t it realized she made for a bad host? Hadn’t it realized it was better off slithering to a mare who’d actually want to keep it.

Yet, when she’d calm down and when her body would demand relief from the curse it placed on her, she’d allow the thing to feed. She’d allow it to squirm closer towards her, its tormentor, in search of comfort and heat. And she’d allow it to sleep as long as it stayed quiet.

Another day passed, and still no word from her sister.

By day four, Celestia hadn’t left the house once as she’d spent her time fast asleep in hopes that the more she dreamt, the higher the chance of Luna visiting. She begged for her sister’s attention, craved it more than she craved anything else, but everytime she felt Luna’s presence, the parasite would interfere with its awful cry. Celestia would wake up, piping mad, and she’d shake it. “Shut up!” She’d screech in its face until it stopped. Then she’d drop it back on the bed, roll over, and return to sleep.

Maybe Luna knew what she had done, maybe she bore witness to it in the perverse memories of Gilaffy, and surely she saw Celestia there, watching as if turned to stone. Those were nightmares she’d have, plagued by that memory, forced to relive it. Except now Luna stood by staring at her with such sorrow.

“I’m sorry,”

Luna turned her head as she refused to look at her.

The parasite woke her out of yet another restless sleep. Celestia rolled over to find its face as red as its privates after they were scrubbed clean from giraffe spit. It was covered in its own sweat and urine and its breathing was labored, more than usual. She touched it’s sunken stomach with her hoof, only to feel the intense heat brewing beneath its patchy rough fur. She could see its ribcage, a parasite barely fed enough to stay alive, and as tiny as a standard teddy bear. That was unusual for a pony foal, but the parasite was an ugly mule.

“What!?” Celestia barked at it, her mane frazzled, her gaze wild from anger. “What do you want from me!? What do you possibly want me to do!?” She picked the parasite up by its large ears only to have it weakly wail even harder. With how desperately it flailed about, it was clear this was a creature begging for its life—to be fed, to be nurtured, to have its pain go away.

“All you do is eat! All you ever do is eat!” She hadn’t fed it in several hours, perhaps even yesterday morning, or late night the day prior? Celestia couldn’t recall. “Shut your mouth and I’ll feed you.”

Despite its young mind, it closed its trap only to stare at her as if it thought she were crazy. They both stared at each other, her heaving with brewing rage, the parasite quivering as if she were a griffin intent on eating it alive. Celestia pinched its ears. It gasped only to flail with its red wet face, screaming for a benevolent god to hear its pleas of mercy.

Its prayers had been answered via a knock on the front door.

Celestia was broken from her angry trance to gaze towards the hallway. Entering a new trance altogether, she dropped the parasite on the bed and carefully stepped over as her mind thought of nothing beyond answering that door.

Luna had returned, a thought claimed. Yes, that sounded about right. But Celestia knew her sister’s presence, their magic magnetic, and this pull was nothing at all like Luna’s.

Celestia paused her trot a foot from the door. Suddenly she was made all too aware of herself and her surroundings. She heard the parasites cry, heard the puddle of water that formed in the kitchen, and saw the silhouette beyond the drawn curtains over the door’s window.

“Twilight,” her lips felt dry. “Twilight why were you casting a spell on me?”

“Please, Princess, open the door.” Her magic seeped through the walls like the running faucet in the kitchen. A pony wouldn’t see it, but Celestia could regardless if Twilight made her horn sparkle or not. It oozed out of her, such an effect usually being reserved for ancient artifacts that would turn a creature mad just by brief contact, yet Twilight controlled it as well as a pegasus controlled the direction of their flight.

Celestia took a few steps back.

Twilight quickly withdrew her magic. “We missed you at brunch a few days ago. I wanted to discuss it with you.”

Celestia slowly spread her wings with all intentions of grabbing the parasite and making an—

“Don’t…princess…I want to tell you about Luna and where she’s been.” Those were the magic words.

Celestia dashed forward, but only poked her head through the door. Standing on their welcome mat with a warm smile, Twilight stood alone. “No army?” She asked as her eyes searched the trees for guards waiting to receive the command to act.

Twilight shook her head, her mane free of its crown. “May I come in?” She waited, as polite as a vampire when he’d make such a request.

The sound of the parasite’s desperate wails penetrated the darkness of the home behind Celestia, yet, oddly, Twilight gave no reaction.

“No.” Quickly Celestia stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind her.

“Okay.” Twilight nodded, and wasn’t she just so pleasant despite the circumstances. She even kept her warm smile as if this whole situation was normal when they both knew that was far from the case.

“Sorry, but the place is a mess.” Celestia kept her ears perked, curious of any sound that stood out. She only heard the twitter of birds and the distant cacophony of maracas and steel drums—typical for the location.

“I understand—“

“Do you wanna sit in the garden instead?” Before Twilight could properly formulate a response, Celestia trotted down their cobble path to go around towards the backyard.

“Uh, sure.” Twilight trotted after her with a lessening smile. “Though I don’t mind a little mess. You and I both know how disorganized I can get at times.”

“No, no, no, I just couldn’t bear to have you see that side of me, but we have a gorgeous view in the garden,” using her magic, Celestia tugged on the gate’s latch. “As I’m sure you’ll see.” And she held it open to allow Twilight access inside their white picket fence.

Just at the edge of their yard, nestled between two looming palms, was a pathway that led to a private beach. From their seat at the glass table they could see the rolling tides, distant islands, and sparkling seashells buried in pink sand. Twilight ogled with amazement. “You’re right, Princess. This beats a sea of rooftops and the hustle and bustle of Canterlot any day.”

Celestia nodded as she placed a single hoof on the table to better adjust herself in the lounge chair she found herself in. Twilight sat in the seat opposite to her with a discreet watchfulness that easily could’ve gone over a pony's head, but Celestia noticed it all. She noticed the slight jitter in her joints, the pounding of her heart, and her brows that fought to stay arched. She noticed the mask on Twilight’s face, and the faux friendliness, the faux ignorance to the parasite’s cry.

Oh, Celestia knew she heard it. They were a kind game at this point.

After a short moment of silence, Twilight conjured a glass of lemonade for the both of them as if she were the home’s host, and not a guest. “I’ve been experimenting with different fruity flavors lately. I’d love for you to try some.”

“Do you have anything stronger?” Celestia only stared at her glass as Twilight lifted the pitcher to pour into her cup. There was a slight bubble to the drink that shouldn’t be typical for regular lemonade.

“Stronger? Like sweeter?”

What a ridiculous question. “Like liquor.”

Twilight stopped pouring, though her smile remained. “We missed you at lunch a few days ago,” and paused as if to build anticipation, as if to prepare herself for the upcoming conversation. “I know I already said that,” Twilight whispered to herself while she took a sip of her drink.

Celestia didn’t touch hers.

Twilight noticed. “Luna said you were unwell.”

“Luna was there without me?” Had she really abandoned Celestia without even a goodbye? The image of Luna’s sorrowful gaze burned its way to the front of her mind. “No, she wouldn’t do that to me. She knows how much it hurts.”

“Your mane is all tangled.” Twilight appeared saddened at the state of her.

Celestia sat up. “My mane?” And through the reflection in the glass table she could see what Twilight was referring to. Her mane was a rats nest, just disarray in a way she hadn’t needed to worry about when it flowed like living water. Quickly, Celestia attempted to brush out the lint and knots and style it into something more presentable. “My apologies, your majesty, I just woke up.”

Twilight never liked it when she referred to her as such. “It’s half past noon.”

“I had a long night.”

“You…staying up late?” Twilight wasn’t buying it. Celestia was an early bird, of course she was! She had spent decades—centuries!—waking up before the sun. A habit like that would be difficult to break just out of the blue.

But of course, Twilight already knew something was off. Such a busy mare wouldn’t just pop by on an average Thursday afternoon to simply catch up, even if Twilight believed Celestia was under the weather. There was no overt panic there, no cartload of medical journals for Twilight to painstakingly read through in hopes of finding a cure, no army of doctors accompanying her. One could argue Twilight’s obsession with Celestia had dulled since she was crowned princess, maybe her paranoia and need to fix mistakes went along with it, but Celestia didn’t believe that. Twilight was far too calm—no, playing calm. She was on edge, but for a different reason.

“I made a mistake.” Celestia answered the question Twilight was surely thinking, why? If only Celestia knew how much Twilight knew, then she could weasel her way out, or at least give a proper apology.

Standing up, Twilight motioned towards the beach. “Shall we take a walk? I find I spend way too much time on my flank as is.” She giggled, likely to break down Celestia’s defenses, but she was on to her.

“Sure.” Celestia slowly got up as she cut her eyes at her lifelong student. What angle was Twilight coming at? What did she have planned? Just cut to the chase already, she wanted to demand, but that would only make her look more guilty.

The two trotted along the beach in silence for a while. Incoming waves washed away pink sand, it polished the fine silver of Twilight’s footwear, and caused Celestia’s white fur to stick to her trimmed hooves. Here their footsteps were silent. Only the ocean’s roar would have its say, and it had quite the compelling call. Come and wash away your sorrows, it promised, drown your worries in my depths. Maybe that’s what Celestia wanted, to drown.

“No,” Twilight shook her head as if she had a right to read her thoughts. “You’re so confused right now, but your pain is—“

“I seem to remember you being my pupil and not my parent. Why the sudden shift, your majesty?” She could’ve spat the last two words out like a bitter taste.

There were tourists miles down on the beach, too far to make out details for earth pony’s gaze, definitely too far to see beyond a sequence of colors for a unicorn, but just at the right distance to see every towel, every glass of pina colada, every bottle of sunscreen. The perfect pegasus’ distance as they were born farsighted, an ability that gave an advantage in the sky.

Twilight shielded her eyes from the sun when she looked over at Celestia. “Luna told me what happened.”

“What happened?” Using magic, Celestia twirled her mane into a bun that sat at the very top of her head.

“She told me about the baby.” Twilight stopped to gauge her companion’s reaction.

They made eye contact, and though she really wanted to look away, Celestia was locked in a cobra’s gaze. She hadn’t meant for things to get so out of hoof. “Stop casting spells on me.”

“I haven’t this time.” Twilight blinked to break their shared trance.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Celestia faced the water. It went on for all eternity, its end unknown. Perhaps if she swam far enough she’d fall off the edge of the planet? Such childish thinking was blissful in those moments.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Twilight stood shoulder to shoulder to her. “We have to talk about it,” she whispered.

Celestia shook her head. “No we don’t.”

“Who’s the father? I won’t mind if he’s somepony I know.”

“Shhh,” Celestia whispered right back.

“Princess—“

“Shhh.”

Twilight stopped talking.

They stood there allowing the ocean to retract around them. It moved as if taking in a breath, more alive than the two alicorns keeping it company.

“I know why you did it. You were frustrated, confused, I can feel it, I can feel every emotion you suffered through when it happened.” Twilight slowly nuzzled her head against her mentor’s cheek. Their horns collided, two drawn swords. Only a few short years ago Twilight barely stood at Celestia’s collarbone, but now they were nearly the same height. “You were just so overwhelmed…if only I were there, if only I could’ve helped you…You know Spike woke me up in utter horror that night when he coughed up the—“ Twilight couldn’t say it. “I didn’t know what to think at the time, but when Luna told me, it all just made sense.” She looked up to meet Celestia’s eyes in search of an answer.

Celestia shook her head again. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We need to talk about this,” before Celestia could deny her further, Twilight kept talking. “I will admit that I was shocked when I heard it. I mean, for normal ponies, yeah I guess that’s just what they do—it’s a part of any species’ life, it’s life itself for crying out loud!” A short chuckle tumbled out of her. “But for you to do it… guess I never thought it possible.” Twilight looked just as disappointed as Luna. “My dearest princess doing something so carnal.”

And that just left Celestia with a heavier guilt for the sin she committed against that awful, no good, parasite. The thought of Luna bearing witness to its abuse, of Twilight knowing. Why would she ever allow him to touch it? “I’m sorry,” Celestia repeated as if her stupid little parasite could hear her. “I won’t ever allow it to happen again.”

Twilight hugged her tightly. “You don’t need to apologize, Princess. These things happen—“

“But that doesn’t make it right! Not at all.”

“I mean, if it didn’t happen then I wouldn’t be here, nor anypony else, Princess.” Twilight pulled away. “I mean, maybe you and Luna would still be here… you do have parents, don’t you?”

The image of Gilaffy with his mouth between the thing’s legs evaporated. “You’re still talking about mating, aren’t you.”

This was crazy. This was dumb. This was unnecessary, and something she didn’t want to deal with at all, ever.

So she wouldn’t.

“You weren’t?” Twilight raised a brow while she watched Celestia pace back and forth. “What were you referring to?”

“Twilight, leave me alone.” That would be her one and only warning.

“What else had happened—“

Celestia stamped her hooves, locked eyes on the tourist-heavy beach in the opposite direction of Twilight, and she took off.

“Princess?!”

Like a fiery chariot, she galloped with burning passion, her heart pounding out of her chest, her hooves picking up speed.

“Princess!”

Faster. Faster. Faster.

“Celestia!”

Hotter. Hotter. Hotter.

Celestia focused on the beach in order to outrun her own thoughts. She kept her wings tucked, she wouldn’t take flight, here is where she needed to be. And instinctively her head lowered, her horn positioned forward, as if to ram it through her target. Who was her target? The ponies relaxing, wrapped up in their own lives, on the sound of music over the jukeboxes, on the drinks, on the game of wing volleyball, to notice the burning horse charging towards them? Was that her target? A bunch of innocent creatures, but how true was that? Someone had to be held accountable for doing this to her. Someone did this to her.

Someone did.

Her mane fell out of its bun and caught fire. The ponies remained ignorant—blind! Stupid! Not responsible for this. Her little ponies wouldn’t see her like this, no matter how much she tore the earth open in her gallope, no matter how much she wanted to just…

To just—

“Princess!” Through a burst of energy, Twilight appeared in front of her, and grabbed hold of her horn. The second her magic made contact with Celestia’s, she couldn’t hold it down anymore, and she erupted in a huge spark of light.

Twilight dug her heels in the now molten ground beneath her, and she held tighter as the metal on her body evaporated from the blast.

Celestia screamed. She screamed not in pain but just as Twilight had said, frustration, confusion, all those emotions she didn’t want to suffer through. She screamed until the once pink beach turned pure diamond beneath her, and the rage erode the bit of her gut laid dormant until next time.

Until the next tantrum.

Until her next regret.

“Princess,” Twilight caught her when she collapsed. “You are unwell,” her once faithful student concluded as she gazed down at her from the bubble she constructed around them.

She pouted, her lip quivered, Celestia sobbed. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Like a lobotomized robot, those words came out of Twilight’s lips with very little emotion.

“Twilight—“

“Don’t fight me on this, please, Princess.”

“Twilight, I’m okay.”

Twilight did say anything further, but she stared at her with this suffocating sort of disappointment. It hurt worse than Luna’s sorrow.

“Your gaze is so cold.” Celestia looked away, instead finding comfort in the normality of the tourist. There was a busdonkey staring directly at them— he had been the only creature in such a crowded environment who noticed, likely an effect of Twilight’s magic cloaking the whole ordeal so as not to startle the ponies. As he held a tray in his mouth, as he stopped dead in his tracks to gaze, Celestia recognized him as the jack from dinner a few nights prior.

“We can help you.” Twilight still had a grip on her horn.

Celestia thought about him plowing her—such an odd thought indeed. He was a loser, a creature at the very bottom of Equestrian society. No one would ever care about an ugly donkey immigrant making 5 bits a day cleaning tables. He was the lowest of the low, and she was the most high. Yes, a beloved princess, adored by both pony and other. She was the pinnacle—it’d never get better than her.

Yet she thought about him fucking her raw in the filthiest stall in the resort’s busiest bathroom. She thought about him inseminating her without her knowledge and getting her knocked up with his defective spawn. She thought about birthing his hideous baby, she thought about it happening again, from the grossest sex to the babies she’d have. These thoughts weren’t good, she thought, but if they were in her mind then surely it was a fantasy of hers. A fantasy oddly familiar, but one she’d never recall experiencing. “I could do a better job at punishing myself. I think I should do it.”

“Nopony wants to punish you, Princess”.

A unicorn mare fanning her sun kissed face with a magazine, bumped into the busdonkey, which caused the cold drinks he carried to spill all over her expensive name-brand bikini bottoms that only the wealthiest of society would bother to wear. With magic she rolled up the magazine to hit him repeatedly over the head with it. “You idiot! Look what you did!”

“Sorry, miss ma’am. Sorry,” he attempted to avoid the blows, cowering into himself, but he was pinned between her and a lifeguard’s watch post.

“Where is your manager, you filthy animal! Where are they?!” She continued to beat him while a few onlookers gave passing glances, and some came a little closer to see what was going on, but no one intervened. “You’re gonna be standing in the unemployment line when I’m done with you!”

“We need to head back now.” Twilight helped Celestia up. “It’s nearly time.”

“Time for what?”

She was never given an answer.