Grief was an odd occurrence. There was never any time to indulge in it and rarely did Celestia ever find closure. It, like many things, was an emotion she would feel, but never truly experience.
She sat before her desk in her bedroom, blank papers set before her near a pot of ink that had dried up several hours prior. Several books were neatly stacked nearby, various references she needed to complete the work she should have already done during her insomniac bout, as well as basic stationary supplies. What held her attention at that moment, and for most of the evening she had stayed awake through, were the crudely drawn pictures tacked to the wall above the desk.
Mementos from past students she had taken on. Many of these simple drawings could even be dated back to a time when two Monarchs ruled Equestria, preserved by her own magic to ensure they would never age.
A small filly firing giant bursts of colour into the sky. Lightshow, unicorn. Became an entertainer nearly 950 years ago who would eventually start a trend of traveling stage magicians.
A big colt keeping a manticore at a spear point that was threatening a crude depiction of Celestia. Phalanx, earth pony. Became Captain of the Royal Guard some 480 years prior as one of the first high-ranking earth pony officers in the Equestrian military and a key strategic figure behind the successful rebuke of invading Griffon forces.
A filly flying with one hoof forward through clear blue skies. Firefly, pegasus. Became the best flier of a generation and started the Wonderbolts some 800 years prior.
Finally, amongst dozens of pictures, were two portraits. One was of a pink alicorn drawn in exquisite detail using charcoal, each feature rendered in technical perfection showing off the artist’s mastery of the tool. The other was in stark contrast to the first. An orange unicorn with a fiery red mane drawn with coloured pencils to get the impression of the subject’s fierceness and joyful countenance.
Neither of the mares in those portraits could stand to be outdone by the other nor would either of them admit to adoring the other’s work.
Rivalry had turned to a steadfast friendship over the years they were together and would have perhaps become more given a few years still. Though it had started with Sunset’s intense jealousy of Cadance for monopolizing Celestia’s time on her arrival from a foreign country, it had grown into friendly competition and blossomed as genuine companionship. It wasn’t long before they spent more time with each other than Celestia herself.
She’d been so proud of them. The subdued Cadance opening up to someone her age, and the infamously abrasive Sunset learning to trust another.
Then, as with most things Celestia was involved with, she ruined it.
No planned future. What had she been thinking at that moment when she said those words? What did she think would happen saying that kind of thing to a mare on the cusp of adulthood who struggled to find direction in her life? Whose only want was to be acknowledged by her surrogate mother?
Celestia had hopes for Sunset, thoughts as to the amazing mare she would become. Potential paths she could have taken with her boundless ambition and exceptional gifts. Why didn’t this stupid old mare tell her about that?
Instead, Celestia told Sunset she had no plans for her. Then, when she had used that horrible mirror, the Princess of Equestria had declared Sunset incapable of ascending to alicornship. Truly wonderful words to a mare that had once confided her deep-seated fears about dying long before her closest friend and mother figure. A moment that really showcased Celestia’s hundreds of years of diplomacy as the leader of a country.
Well, she would have plenty of time to think about what she’d done wrong since Cadance had stopped talking to her and would for some time over losing Sunset to places unknown. Celestia could hardly blame her.
She didn’t really want to talk to herself either over such a catastrophic failure.
Not for the first time did Celestia consider tearing down all her fondest memories off the wall. They were a source of great joy to her and terrible pain. Each represented one of her students, one of her own foals. Those with great gifts or simply the ones who got lost in the cracks of Equestria’s support systems. Ponies she took in and raised as her own. Guiding them, helping them, bringing out their untapped potential for greatness. Her students were the closest she would ever have to having her own foals.
That wasn’t to say Celestia couldn’t have her own foals. It was possible, but it was a kind of grief she didn’t feel she could ignore. Her own flesh and blood passing away before her from old age, falling to nefarious intentions from her myriad of enemies, or just catching a horrid cold one winter and never waking up one morning.
To suffer that kind of heartache was something that Celestia thought would be the last straw for her. The final push to break the monarch’s back, to finally make her incapable of rising from her bed.
Though perhaps not as Celestia had been through similar horror and pulled through. But it wasn’t something she wished to test.
Celestia stood up onto her hooves, stretching out the various kinks in her body that had worked their way in after several hours of sitting still at her desk. She needed to finish those reports, but, seeing as how she had made no progress over the course of an entire night, she felt that a moment away was in order.
She trotted in place to warm up her cold bones as she took in the various Hearthswarming decorations around the room. The deep-seated chill she felt was caused by the fire having long gone out and the unfortunate circumstance of living in a stone castle.
The holiday decor, usually designed to bring joy to onlookers, did nothing but sour Celestia’s mood further. A small petty part of her knew that soon she would be able to finally take the eyesores down. She would take great joy in the catharsis of ripping them all down in a few days. Ruining something on purpose instead of by accident as she tended to do.
Her gaze found itself looking at the monstrosity situated on her bedside table. It was one unstately thing she was allowed in her minimalistic personal quarters beside the picture wall and she took great pleasure in having it there.
A small smile spread across her face as she stared at the clay abomination. It was supposed to be her and another embracing each other, but the execution was frankly terrible. There were several extra limbs, bulbous proportions where they shouldn’t be and the composition implied that Celestia did not have a spine.
Some ponies have even come to believe that the sculpture reflected Celestia’s true form. She further fueled fever dream levels of imaginative thoughts on the matter when she would answer any inquiries with a single enigmatic smile that she had perfected over centuries of practice. It was a small joy in her stressful life.
The truth was it was the first attempt of her younger sister, Luna. A Hearthswarming gift from one sister to her favourite (and only) sibling in the whole world.
Another on a long list of ponies Celestia had failed. Like Sunset, a little more thought into what she said would have gone a long way. In the stories, it was always told that Celestia had been aloof, and that her sister’s fall was because of her neglect. It couldn’t be farther from the truth. Her sister fell in spite of her presence. Luna had joked constantly that she could never get her older sister to leave her alone for longer than five minutes let alone the years-old fables claimed. No, the true reason was, as always, because of Celestia’s stupid mouth running faster than her thoughts.
Thoughtless remarks and speeches about ponies appreciating Luna’s worth, that they loved the night as much as the day. Forced gestures from Celestia’s continued efforts to push their subjects to give Luna the attention Celestia knew she deserved, that she needed.
When Luna had become the Nightmare, Celestia had been blindsided. In hindsight, everything she had done for her sister had simply hammered in how alone she was. Her memory demanded that she remember the events as it being her fault, that if she tried just a bit harder, Luna would know she was loved and would never have fallen.
As was usually the case, the truth hurt more than the lie. Despite her best efforts, a sister’s love was nothing in the face of a thousand indifferent subjects. And Celestia couldn’t bear the thought that there had been nothing she could have done to stop it.
That she would have never been enough no matter how much she tried.
A tingling sensation spread through her very being as she was reminded of her most sacred duty. She trotted wearily to the balcony as she felt a small spark of selfish joy at being able to see her sister before the inevitable happened.
Morning came.
Celestia ignored her grief.
And the sun rose.
