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>Your inked quill slips, sending a massive scrawl across the parchment you're writing on
"Bastard," you mutter savagely
>And for the third time that day, you glare up at the door, irritated at the intrusion
>There pokes around your door a pony's head, with a slender caramel muzzle and a set of reproachful blue eyes hidden beneath a brass royal guard's half-helm
"Hello, Private Sentry."
>"Sir," he mumbles quietly.
>You place the quill back in its inkpot.
"I have warned you before about knocking."
>"O-oh, I..." Flash Sentry nickers nervously, his head turns to the door he's half-hiding behind. He spies the jacket on the jackethook, and the sparse contents of your office. "You did, sir?"
>You nod once, and glance down at your letter to Princess Cadence
>It was not a matter of grave importance. You are not a diplomat, nor a 'pony of letters', as Celestia said
>But you are anon, a stranger in a strange land, and a how-are-you letter to the important ponies you have met to date seems like a wise decision indeed
>It would not do to fall into obscurity...
>That would be incredibly dangerous, because then you might not stand a chance of getting home.
>Although, with the fascination of the palace on you, it was unlikely that was ever going to be the case
>Which is just as well, because you could find no other reason for being the sole object of attention in any given conversation with a pony.
>In fact, you're finding it hard to find a time and place for quiet memoirs, something you feel you must do as the only human in Equestria.
>Flash Sentry is a very annoying young Pegasus.
>He also sidles into the room proper, and takes a few swift strides to the end of your desk
>With little else to do, you concede defeat and stare him down as he approaches, hoping he can't feel your inner ire
"What is it, Flash?"
>"It's um... it's the Princess, sir."
>He pauses thoughtfully for a moment, still staring at you
>It's a very long moment
"Was there anything about them you wanted to add?" You ask, grinning helpfully
>Flash Sentry shivers slightly as you reply to him, and you understand exactly why
>You bore your teeth when you said 'add'
>And then you smiled, bearing those pearly white canines.
>A good-spirited gesture that becomes a rather large and glaring faux pas in the face of herbivorous creatures
>You imagine a smile from you, a carnivore, would be akin to a lion smiling at a frightened gazelle
>Rather strangely the prey possesses hooves in both instances.
>You stop smiling very quickly.
"I'm not going to eat you, Flash," you say, taking some care not to bear your hound-like canines at him again. "I have said as much before."
>A tall conclusion from simply observing him, but it was a fear he had given voice to before.
>He stumbles over his words before swallowing and nodding
>"P-Princess Celestia wanted to see you, sir."
"Just 'Anon' will do. I'm not in the army."
>"Oh, okay. Wh-"
>Flash pauses again. After a consolidation of his nerves, you see that he's rethinking asking you another question
>He turns and departs as quickly as he came, slipping out the door to his post before he can mess up again
>The oaken door closes with a soft click
>And you stand up, pushing your chair away and sidling over to the back of your office door, where the coathook holds your single earthly possession
>A bold, tanned leather jacket, the colour of dark ash
>It was the first thing Flash had laid eyes on as he entered... you groan.
>Well, you don't blame his reluctance to enter the lion's den. You frown at the article of clothing as you lay your hand on the doorknob, and thoughts float through your mind unbidden
>The Equestrian part of you says to burn the thing, and have done. The Human part of you denies such silliness - that jacket is gorgeous
>You wonder what Flash Sentry would think of an ermine coat
>You wonder what he might say if he saw your grandparent's walk-in-wardrobes
>Pairs of leather slip-on shoes, and leather jackets of a dozen varieties and conditions, reeking of a mixture of smoke and polish
>A mink coat from the sixties. Ostentatious by any stretch, but inexplicably classy and grand
>You blink, and squeeze the handle tightly, yanking the door wide open
>Now is not the time for thoughts of the far-off place called home
>Or those of your family, for that matter, as much as you missed them
>No. Not family. Particularly not your siblings
>Or your parents
>Not your mother at all either
>Or your father
>Or her
>
>
>...Not the time.
>
>
>Is it ever the time, you wonder vaguely
>
>
>You slip by Flash on the way out. The young Pegasus gives you an unsure, but polite look, as if you were a particularly rabid stray dog
>That's an improvement on last month, you suppose. At least it wasn't outright fear, which was what you got from most of the local ponies
>Your hands find the pockets of your leather jacket. And you press on towards Celestia's tower, slinking as quickly and quietly as you can through the halls of crimson velvet and polished marble
>A cursory glance out the window to avoid the eye of a Royal Guard allows you to bathe in the spectacle that is Canterlot
>Towers of gilded gold and royal purple. White marble columns, tapering arches, and high walls of glittering alabaster stone, Canterlot Castle sat, perched on the mountainside far above the city, providing gorgeous views of the vale miles below. It was a marvel of... well, everything you've ever known. Art took on a different and new spin when magic came into play. Nothing you'd seen had ever been so extravagant and beautiful, or so incredible, or so intimidating
>Scattered hither and thither were towers of varying height and size, a dozen tapering points with differing heights, widths and thicknesses, some of them connected to eachother by long, glass corridors - but despite the unusual arrangement, the palace still maintained regality. How and why you weren't certain. All you knew was that there was some magic to the place that a human like you could never hope to learn
>Perhaps the better phrase would be, 'je ne sai quois'.
>Wait. What does that mean, anyway?
>
>You flit through an archway, and down a long passage filled with stained glass windows
>Somewhere, in the distance, somepony plays the harp
>Somewhere closer is your destination
>A small door
>It is Celestia's study
>And unlike everything else about the castle, it is rather cosy and unobtrusive
>So much so that you walk past the door at least once a week without remembering that it was there, or who was behind that particular door
>Though perhaps that's namely because you kept getting lost in this place
>And, that the appearance of her study changes from month to month, as Celestia saw fit
>Today, the 'small' door is in fact a rather medium-sized door, with an elegant silver handle and laurel wreaths adorning a small 'C'
>It's very Celestia. It reminds you of living in a house with other people, not so much a palace
>You smile at her majesty's modesty, knock on the door twice and wait a moment
>...She certainly has an enigmatic and refreshing taste in decor
>It goes well with that cheeky, slightly-knowing-better smile of hers
>"Come in, Royal Groomer," says a slightly muffled voice, from about two feet to your left
>You jump out of your skin, spinning quickly
>Celestia stands there, watching you with some amusement as she chews on something. She is flanked to her left and right by two grey unicorn guards, permanent frowns etched into otherwise stoic faces and forms
>All three of them appear to have crept up on you at precisely the right time...
>She herself is levitating a small cookie jar in her magic
"Hello Princess," you say, putting a hand to your chest and feeling your heart thumping
>Celestia notices your reaction - she must - but she does not take the initiative to say so
>"Oh, did I scare you?" she asks, giving you a smile
>That smile. The enigmatic smile.
>A veritable Mona Lisa of a smile, filled with a slight innocence and cheekiness that doesn't seem jaded by knowledge or age.
"Yes," you say, composing yourself. "You wanted to see me?"
>Celestia withdraws another cookie from the jar with her golden magic
>"I did. I had to sneak off to the kitchens first, though," she says, taking a few slender steps towards you
"Sneak?" you say, glancing at her bodyguards. The one to her right shoots you a a slightly weary look
>"Well how else was I going to get the cookie jar?" Celestia says, putting the chocolate chip biscuit in her mouth
>As Celestia draws to her door, the guards separate from her and stand beside the doorway
>You think better of pressing Celestia's reasoning
>Instead, you lean in and press down and forward on the silver handle, and then retreat, giving a quick bow of your head.
"Your majesty."
>She beams and curtises, seeming genuinely taken aback by the simple gesture.
>"Such manners! Phineas, you could learn a thing or two from Anonymous."
>One of the guards - the one who gave you the look - raises an eyebrow at you
>He, unlike Flash, is clearly not afraid of you. He's probably Flash's senior. Being one of Celestia's royal guards, you doubt he's afraid of anything
>But he has noticed your particular choice in outer garb
>You wonder what he thinks about being told his etiquette is worse than a carnivorous alien who wears skin like some sort of barbarian
>"You too, Princess," he remarks, in an off-handed (or off-hooved, rather) sort of way
>Woah. His blunt indifference surprises you, to say the least. You look at Celestia
>She bursts out into laughter at the guard's remark, and, still giggling, trots into her room
>"Hee hee, you rogue! I'll see you when I go to lunch, Phineas."
>"Till then, Princess."
>Your head snaps between the exchange, bewildered
>You couldn't do that to any kings and queens you knew at home
>...
>Although, to be fair, you did not know any queens or kings at home
>Maybe Queen Elizabeth II was actually like this all the time?
>You quickly step through the threshhold of Celestia's study, and shut the door
>You turn to face Celestia, hands politely behind your back as you examine the contents of Celestia's room this August
>Today is apparently 'medieval castle' day. The room is circular, and walled with roughly-hewn stone bricks
>A set of iron window-lattices allow little diamonds of green glass to cast a pattern on the floor
>A few crackling torches shimmer at various points around the room, and high above is a weakly burning chandelier
>There is also a fireplace opposite her four-poster bed bed. It is lit, and it crackles merrily at the moment
>The rug that lies in front of it looks... warm and fuzzy, for want of a better word
>Wait
>You glance up at the BED.
>The bed?
>In a study?
>"I understand this is what you call a 'castle' at home?" Celestia says, trotting across the room and standing next to her queen-sized bed. "Oh, and first names as usual, please."
"Of course, Celestia," you say, deferring to your preferred casual tongue while eying off the odd contents of the room. "Why is there a bed in your study today?"
>Celestia looks up and around, giving her surroundings a thoughtful look
>First she glances over at the large chest-of-drawers and matching wardrobe that sit by one of the windows
>Then she continues to look at the tall fitting mirror next to it, and the locked iron-bound trunk of personal affections next to it
>Her gaze trails back down to the hand-table beside her bed. The cookie jar touches down on its polished surface with a faint, ceramic 'plink'
>And then she looks back up at you
>"You know, I'm not quite sure."
>You resist the urge to rub your face with both hands. You make do with shedding the jacket and putting it by the door
>"I suppose it's more like a real 'room' now," she says, settling gracefully onto the bed. "I have to admit, I don't do too much work here."
>You cast a glance over at an oak desk much like your own, except it is stacked high with an inordinate amount of papers
>As you look at it, there is a soft poof of green flame, and another letter slips on top of the pile...
>The pile shifts and shakes before collapsing slightly, causing a miniature avalanche of letters onto the floor
>"...Not too much," Celestia adds, following your gaze. "And besides, that's not even that bad. You should see the Royal Study right now."
>You look back at Celestia
"Something bothering you, Princess?"
>She pouts and sighs, rolling onto her back and splaying out her wings beneath her. The cookie jar returns to her grasp
>"Was it really that obvious?" she says to the canopy of her four-poster
"Maybe." You are still standing in the centre of the room. "You don't usually change your room around more than one a month."
>"And?" she retorts pertinently.
"Well, I swung by the other week, and I recall that things were different."
>"You mean my 'Jungle Temple' theme?
>You pause, thinking how best to illustrate your agreement that things had gone from 'Indiana Jones' to 'Game of Thrones' so quickly
"Yes."
>Celestia casts a hoof about her disarmingly, gesturing at the elaborate getup of her room. "This? I thought this was refreshing."
"Would I be wrong in saying you've been needing some refreshment lately?"
>Her deep, amethyst eyes dart upwards in their sockets, and she gives you an upside-down glare
>"Well, so much for manners."
"You did call me."
>She gives you a pouty look
>"And what's that supposed to mean?
You sigh, and take a few steps into the centre of the room, towards the end of the bed
"Nothing. My comments are purely based out of concern, Celestia. As always."
>She sniffs, and returns to staring at the ceiling and eating her cookies
"You've been acting-"
>Crunch, crunch, crunch
"Rather strangely lately."
>Crunch, crunch
"One might almost say childish."
>Crunch
>She pauses in her chewing to pout at you again. Uncowed, you raise an eyebrow at her
"Don't give me that look. What about the 'Starswirl the Bearded Slumber Party' theme?" you add
>Her look of slight stern-ness vanishes. "Ah, well," she says, swallowing and clearing her throat. "Actually, that was Twilight Sparkle's idea."
>She pauses, and you can see her brain ticking over what she's just admitted.
>"Starswirl is not childish."
You frown. "Isn't he a fairytale?"
>"Not when I knew him, no," Celestia replies.
>You notice that a certain calmness has returned to her voice, and it has lost some of its cheeky edge
"You'll have to tell me about him some time," you say, approaching the end of the bed. "Now, what's wrong?"
>Her gaze dwells on you, unsure for a moment
>
>A long moment at that
>"Well," she says with a sigh, flipping over onto her belly again. The cookie jar is placed on the bedside table with ease, and she looks you dead in the eye before speaking
>"I've been in a terrible ordeal lately."
>Oh.
>That's...
>You frown.
>In your mind Celestia does not get in ordeals
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," you say, feeling off-put
>"Thank you," She says, settling herself on top of the duvet and folding her legs beneath her. "I dismissed my guards, so we could speak in private," she adds calmly. "I don't exactly want this to be overheard."
"Right..." you trail off glumly, not feeling quite as comfortable as you were before.
>Celestia leans forward, still staring at you
>"Can you keep a secret, Anon?"
"Yes."
>Well that was a gut reflex
>Almost a bit insincere, really, and you know it.
>You probably couldn't keep EVERY secret...
>But you're really very keen to get to the bottom of all this.
>Celestia is still looking deeply into your eyes, as if searching for some truth, evidently unsatisfied with your swift response
>You notice she looks terribly intense for somepony who had been so carefree not a moment ago.
>And that's when the other strange things about her began to become visible to you
>Her flowing, ethereal mane is not quite as majestic as it always is. Her cheeks are slightly darker and flushed than her perfect and regal white coat. She looked tired - weary, even, and yet, restless at the same time.
>She looked… stressed
"Are you ill?" you ask
>"I've felt better," Celestia replies frankly.
"Do you have a cold?"
>She gives you a pained look
>"Human disease."
"The feather flu, then?"
>"No."
"You look like you're running a fever," you note, leaning over the bed's wooden end and putting a hand to Celestia's forehead, just at the base of her horn -
>YOW!
>You retract your hand back swiftly, angrily
>It shocked you!
>You fan your hand and glare at her
"What the hell?..."
>Celestia's eyes widen, her magic extending to the area around your arm, yanking it savagely forward.
"Ow!'
>What is she trying to do, take your arm off?
>"Oh my, I'm sorry!" she gasps, stressing and fretting as her magic begins to weave its way around your arm
>The burning begins to fade, but the crushing grip around your forearm is making you uncomfortable
"C-Celestia," you stammer, gritting your teeth
>"Hmm?" she glances up from her ministrations distractedly, and the pressure on your bicep doubles
>Several tasteful obscenities leave your mouth, and the magical grasp around your arm vanishes
>You sink to the base of the polished wooden bedframe, biting your lip as your arm throbs in pain
>A moment passes in which you cool off your anger
>But a loud sniff breaks your self-pity
>You raise your gaze to the foot of the bed, peeking over the tip of the four-poster frame...
"Celestia?"
>Celestia is facing away from you now
>Her head is buried in between several of her many pillows. Her shoulders drop
>And, after a moment of watching, you hear the sound of gentle sobbing
"Oh... oh."
>Any bitterness remaining in your body is swept away in a sea of pity
>Did you do that?
>Oh god, you hope not
>You weren't even THAT angry at her
>You quickly hoist yourself over the end of the queen-sized bed, clambering along its downy centre until you can sit next to Celestia
"Hey now, hey, now, don't..."
>...
>You pause, feeling clumsy.
>Should you rub her back?
>You've preened her wings before
>Are you actually so familiar with the Princess of the Sun?
>Of course you are, you're her groomer and confidant
>Why was she even upset?
>And more importantly, how do you comfort a pony?
>A hug seems obvious, but Celestia is a little too big for that
>Not to mention, you don't want to do anything to upset her
>And you don't want to touch her wings, because that's a little too private right now
>Meanwhile, Celestia continues to cry gently into the pile of pillows
>In the end, you put your hand on the back of her long neck, just where her mane ends
>And you stroke her a few times, as you would anyone else who's lying face-down, you suppose
>And you stay like that for a good few minutes while Celestia has a good old teary
>The whats and whys don't matter so much
>Clearly her mood was all over the place,  jumping erratically from cheerful to childish to serious to sad
>So there as no point in disturbing her, really
>You let your mind wander for a while
>
>Eventually, you are summoned back to the mortal realm by an insistent nudge against your lower arm, the one that's stroking Celestia's mane
>You glance down.
>The Princess has raised her great head from the pillows
>She looks like a mess....
>A majestic pony mess that's tired and upset and just over it, really
>Celestia does not meet your eyes
>"Sorry, anon," she sniffles. "I'm a bit of a train-wreck right now."
"That's quite alright," you say, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
>Celestia shifts her muzzle onto the crook of your arm. You stop your petting and let her rest there for a while.
>It's not too much use wondering why she's so upset, but you'd like to know anyway.
>But you give her five to ten first, just to chill out
>And then you look down at her again.
"What's wrong?"
>The alicorn's brow rises as she looks up at you. It's not an angle you're used to seeing - Where Flash Sentry comes up to your chest, Celestia is usually about a foot taller than you
>"It's happening, anonymous," she replies unhappily.
"...What is?"
>Celestia blinks once.
>"You know. My cycle."
>Well, that would explain her rather erratic grasp of her own magic
>
>...
"Well if you want, I can get the seat fixed... you know. If it bothers you -"
>She snorts, shoving you with a hoof.
>"Anon, please."
>
>...
"Okay, just kidding."
>"Good."
"You knew anyway, though."
>"I did." She shifts her muzzle a little up your arm, smiling at you. "I'm also glad you're not grossed out."
>You take the reflection with a pinch of salt.
"Not as much as I could be."
>Celestia passes you a weak smile.
>"It doesn't get easier, you know".
>A stray thought of Celestia in heat enters into your head, trips up, and falls out the other side again.
>It was unusual, but not that big a deal.
"One minute," you say, glancing down at her. "Here, just lift your head a sec."
>She does so.
>You quickly flump onto your back and scootch over to Celestia, until you're lying side-on with her, propped up by some of the pillows.
>Your lower arm barely skims against her barrel when you rest it at your side.
>Glancing over at her, you can see that she's actually a little shocked at the intimate gesture.
>Nonetheless, she slowly, cautiously lowers her head onto your chest.
"Ok," you say, clapping your hands lightly. "Now we can have our therapy session."
>She snorts a little derisively, disturbing the fabric of your t-shirt.
>"You seek to counsel me, anon?"
"Well, I'm not going to help you any other way," you observe drily.
>On your chest, Celestia's head shifts a little uncomfortably. You notice a dull plum developing around her cheeks, one that isn't dissuaded by the time that passes in several rises and falls of your chest.
>Oh. Something suddenly strikes you as very pointing.
>Why are you down here, anon?
>Oh, oh. Oh dear.
>That's... wow.
"Err," you say, passing her a puzzled look. "You weren't thinking -"
>"No," Celestia blurts out, far too quickly to be convincing. "I did not want to see what your fingers could do."
>Wow.
>Wow, holy shit, Celestia.
"Wow."
>Her blush heats up.
>"Wow what?" she murmurs, turning her head side-on so her voluminous, slightly messy mane hides the expression on her face.
>You reach over with a hand and carefully push some the gossamer strands out of the way.
>They part around your hand like strands of silk suspended in water.
"I'm flattered, really."
>Celestia makes a noncommittal noise, one that's halfway between a chiding tongue click and a grunt.
"Celly?"
>You crane your neck forward, catching a glimpse of her face.
>She looks modest and composed, but red-eyed and sulky.
>You catch her eye, and she sniffs once.
"Celly?"
>"Yes?"
"I said I think you're beautiful."
>Surprisingly, Celestia does not visibily react to this information.
>But her voice grows a tone softer, and you hope she followed in kind.
>"Thank you, Anonymous," she says.
>You slump your head back onto the pillows and stare at the ceiling.
>Because that's what you and Celestia were into at that particular moment in time.
>In fact, in that second, at that particular moment in time, you don't think you have a more deeply-felt respect for any other being in the universe than Celestia.
"Now, what were you saying doesn't get easier?" You say, running your fingers through her long mane absent-mindedly.
>You feel her neck tense against your side at the touch of your fingers.
>There's another mumbled something in your chest.
"Sorry?"
>She rolls her head back to face you, but still does not make eye contact.
>"Finding a mate."
>You frown.
>You'd already been subjected to the ministrations of Twilight Sparkle, the mare who knows absolutely everything about everything. You know about these heat things.
>Well, as much as books would tell you, at least.
>Or rather, as much as Twilight told you.
>...Even though those two were largely the same thing, erring in favour of the book from time to time.
"I'm pleased you're not, um..." you roll your spare hand, searching for the words.
>"Ravenous?" Celestia finishes.
"Yeah. Ravenous."
>This time, she offers you a weak smile, the best you've gotten out of her yet.
>"Well, you are a different species to me."
"That didn't stop Hippogryphs from being born."
>Her smile fades.
>"Don't tempt me, anon. After last week, I'm not in the mood for teasing."
"Right," you mumble, recalling the week prior.
 
>Cadance visiting from the Crystal Empire was a fairly important event.
>One nearly overshadowed by the Equestrian Games Committee picking a city to host the Equestrian Games in.
>You remember very plainly the strained look on Celestia's face when her young, pretty niece cantered into the throne room, dragging with her the eyes of more than a few guards
>And, very unashamedly, the captain of the guard's.
 
>"I do love Cadence," Celestia whispers. "But she can make me feel old sometimes."
>Now you snort. You blow a tiny strand of her mane away.
"I'm sure she didn't mean to tease you, and - old, Princess?"
>The head on your chest rubs up and down in what might be best considered a nod.
>"And ugly."
>You snort.
"Well, now you're just being silly."
>"I know," she replies softly. "Doesn't stop me from feeling that way, though, does it?
"Do you want me to get your brush?"
>"Yes, please."
 
>You move to slip off the bed, but a tiny wreath of magic encircles the bedside table, causing its drawers to slide open
>"It's just here," she says, producing the horsehair brush from the topmost compartment before shutting it.
>You slowly turn your head back to Celestia.
"That was very quick of you."
>Almost like she didn't want you to leave your comfortable spot snuggled up next to her.
>You set the brush's ivory handle in your long hand, and run your spare fingers through her mane.
>Celestia nickers softly in satisfaction as you apply it, straightening and deknotting as you drag it down long lengths of her wondrous mane.
>Only in short bursts, though. There's so much of it that's a mess, after all
>Not that Celestia seems to mind. Every brushstroke makes her body erupt in tiny shivers.
>Some part of you feels sorry for in that regard. You must not be helping things very much.
>Equestrians, unlike yourself, were highly vulnerable to the passge of time and season, so much to the point where it was almost a fault
>Come springtime in Canterlot, and the females always grew slightly anxious. Their bodies seemed to be attuned with nature, and every spring nature somehow brewed sunshine and green grass into a stir-crazy cocktail of hormones and romance that the ponies were all but helpless to imbibe
>The genders seperate and segregate apart from eachother for about a week, and then - as if on cue - they re-unite, and there are couples everywhere
>The concept would be downright strange... if this was your first time round
>It would be even stranger if you hadn't had Twilight Sparkle - who was just as susceptible to such urges, unless she was unique - telling you exactly what it was, and how it worked
>And the history of celebrations surrounding the event
>And then of the summer sun solstice
>And the role of the sun and seasons
>And how her parents met during one cycle, which led to them getting married
>And how was the same season was also advent of Shining Armour, her brother
>And the - alright Twilight, let's see if we can study something new today
>
>You blink, recofusing on the strange checquerboard of bottle green that the window casts onto the fireside rug.
>One year and five months in Equestria is not enough time to understand their curious habits and customs. Or in this case, the strange function of biology in their everyday life
>So you are fairly careful with where your fingers stray.
"It's okay if I do this, right?" you say, combing out another knot.
>"It's fine." her reply is calm, but you see her lips purse as you accidently pluck a hair loose.
"Just tell me if you feel uncomfortable, okay?"
>She scoffs.
>"Surely you jest, Anon?" she says, burbling in mirth. "I'm in heaven right now."
>Well that's slightly humbling, again.
>"As always, really."
>You frown. You suppose that's true.
>Helping Celestia relax was a practice that you engaged in regularly, at her request.
>Usually it involved a simple chat about court stress.
>Sometimes you were able to comb her mane for a while. You were a bit inexpert, but the attention was always well-recieved.
>Most of the time you just talked about intermittent, disconnected things.
>Today was the first time you've dealt with her cycle.
>It's not gross, though.
>It had never occurred to you that she would be vastly different to everypony else.
>And again, it probably would have been gross were it your first affiliation with the season. But it isn't.
>You know she can't help it.
>You unwreath your fingers from around the fluid coils of her mane, and, setting the brush to one side, push all of your fingertips into her head, massaging her slightly.
>Celestia sighs in happiness.
>"Oh, good heavens, that feels... amazing."
>You sigh too. But not in happiness.
>The dextrous touch of your fingers has attracted the attention of the only three mares you know quite well.
>And most of the mares that you don't, too.
>There are plenty of female guards. They sometimes approach you.
>"Can I touch them?"
>"What do they feel like?"
>"Can you scratch my back?"
>"...What are you up to later?"
>...That last one seemed to feature only in the spring. You know at least what the attention is about then.
>Strangely the mare guards are somewhat less fearless than their male counterparts
>Presumably they have warmed to you over time faster then the stallions.
>And speaking of biological urges
"Nobody ever compliments my charming smile," you say sarcastically.
>Celestia stretches out her forelegs, and takes a deep breath.
>"Well, like I've said before," she says, her voice calm. "It's unfortunate, but unpreventable."
"Having fingers is unfortunate?"
>"No, but being an apex predator does have its drawbacks," Celestia replies, her eyes closed.
>For some reason, the blank mahogany canopy of Celestia's four-poster just became unpleasant to look at.
>You look to your left, and out the blurry window.
"Oh."
>Silence ensues.
>"I heard Flash Sentry is still scared of you."
"Slightly."
>Celestia shifts herself a little bit so your fingers are on her neck. You continue to rub. Her head rests pleasantly on your stomach.
>"Forgive him. He's still new."
"It's alright," you reply vaguely. "I get it a lot."
>What you don't say is that it would be stranger if Flash wasn't afraid of you.
>Because everypony else was.
>And that was reasonable, you tell yourself. Why wouldn't they be?
>Primal urges and instincts clearly had a large role in Equestria. Even Celestia was a victim to her body at times.
>And here you are, a known carnivore.
>A simple, friendly gesture like smiling? You may as well threaten and devour to eat a pony.
>Bar Celestia, of course. At least she isn't afraid of you.
>But again, you are a stranger here.
>Stranger in a strange land.
>That turn of phrase starts to hurt, after a while.
>"I'm sorry."
>Celestia's voice brings you back to Earth
>Back to Equestria, even
"Sorry about what?" you say, glancing down at her
>She rolls over, facing you and interrupting your careful ministrations, looking at you with those calm, ever-sparkling eyes
>"I know you become unhappy when I mention that."
>You smile reach for the brush again, thinking you could take the chance to comb out her fringe.
"It's alright. Not as bad as it could be."
>She raises an eyebrow at you.
>"Is that really the truth?"
>You set about your task, combing the fair locks of her pink fringe...
"Part of it."
>She continues to peer into you with those clear, amethyst jewels that glitter with age and power untold...
>"Then why don't you tell me how you feel?"
"Because I'm alright."
>...And known personally only to yourself and a few others.
>"Therapy sessions go both ways."
"But I haven't said anything yet."
>Celestia blinks at you, lowering her head slightly. The section of her mane that you've preened flows softly as she does so.
>"You say more than you know, Anonymous."
>You stay silent. Celestia follows suit, but it is she who breaks the silence first.
>"It's very refreshing to find somepony so different, and yet so similiar."
>...
>That felt like a backhanded (backhoofed?) compliment. But what are you supposed to say in reply?
>Celestia continues.
>"You are very comforting to me, anon. I don't get the opportunity to be so relaxed around ponies that I know. Take heart in that you make me happy, at least."
>That makes some sense.
>She is practically immortal compared to a regular pony, or even you.
>Or at least, immensely long-lived.
>You imagine that would make any long-term friendship a little difficult, to say the least.
>Thousands of years old, and royal.
>Only the former is of any consequence to you, though.
>To you, she is simply Celestia.
>And you couldn't love her more right now. Her kind words lift your lonely heart out of the dumps, and you smile for what feels like the first real time in ages.
"What about Twilight Sparkle?" you ask, thinking of her student.
>Celestia hesitates, and turns her head away, so that her horn faces you.
>"Yes, in a way," she says. "In a different way to you. But I prefer not to alleviate my burders on Twilight. She is a little too young for such things, really."
"Were it that we could all be so lucky."
>Celestia's hoof whacks you on the thigh, and you wince.
>"Such cheek," she mutters, more to the room at large than yourself.
>
>There passes another long silence that you'd prefer not to break.
>Again, Celestia takes that matter out of your hands.
>"Could you... could you rub my horn, just a little?"
>Hey, hey.
>That's frowntown.
>She thinks you don't know about unicorn horns.
>You're not okay with that.
>Eventually, she tilts her head back to see you scowling at her.
>She smiles nervously.
>"Too obvious, was it?"
"I am not a comfort horse."
>She winces.
>"Right. Sorry. It's the estrus doing that."
>...
>"But if you wouldn't mind scratching my ear?"
>You umm and aah over that for a moment or two.
>In the end you decide that it's not heavy petting if you don't want it to be.
>Scoot your free hand up past her horn.
>Accidently brush by her forehead again on the way past. Her entire body twitches.
>Good god, her horn is sensitive, even if you aren't touching it.
"You're burning up," you observe, feeling the radiant heat from her forehead.
>Celestia sniffs sullenly.
>"I have a headache."
>You contemplate the greater meaning of 'Celestia has a headache' as you tut gently.
>She must be feeling her estrus pretty hard - the errant magic in her horn was enough to give you a nasty shock.
>Poor Celestia.
>You spend a while rubbing and scratching the space behind her ear. Celestia's head does not move from your stomach, but her velvety ear flits and bats inattentively.
>And you don't say a word until she rolls over to face you once again.
>"I suppose it's that we both have nopony," she murmurs, regarding you unsurely.
>Pardon?...
>You pause from your brushing.
>An unpleasant lack creeps at the edges of your mind.
>You will it away, and say nothing.
>Again.
>"It's not nice, being lonely."
>You stare back at her.
>"...Believe me," she adds calmly. "It is a feeling I am not unfamiliar with."
>This conversation has taken a turn for the depressed
>And Celestia is engaging you on the home front
"You have Luna," you add. "At least you can talk it over with somepony."
>She nods sagely, rubbing your shirtfront with her cheek again.
>"True, true. I do." she smiles wearily at you. "And I am grateful. I did not have Luna for a very long time."
>A pause.
>"And you have your family too, in a very far away place."
>She continues looking at you, watching you.
>You don't think she's gauging you for a reaction.
>She just wants to know what you're thinking, really
>You know it's a friendly curiosity as much as it is a thankful sympathy.
>But it doesn't stop the thought of a far away home from dragging sharply across your heart
>"You miss them."
>It's not a question
"Of course."
>Celestia rests a hoof on top of your chest. Right over where the pain in your chest is.
>Maybe it was intentional. You were not aware that Celestia was familiar with your heart
>"I'm sorry that you can't be with them," she says
>You look back to the ceiling.
>There falls more silence between you.
>More nothing.
>Nothing, nothing, nothing.
>The total sum of of you.
>You should find something more pleasant to say at times like this. Something a little bit acquiescing, something that doesn't give away how badly it hurts
>Pride is not a sin in your heart
>But loneliness is a lack, and it cuts deep
>Celestia slowly lays her head back on your stomach
>You continue putting your fingers through her mane
>It's freshly brushed, and nice to touch. And soft, too.
>It's very nice.
>You know it has a lot of colours in it.
>In the light, it has Mauve, green, aquamarine...
>But in the shade of her bed's canopy, though, there is only a shimmering pink.
>You let it wave over your fingers, like a running stream.
>"Anon?"
>You look at the Princess.
"Yes?"
>"Why are you trying to shut me out?" she asks simply.
>Because I like being happy, Princess. Not sad.
"I'm not."
>"Yes you are."
>You really are.
>You shouldn't do that.
>Fucking estrus making Celestia all thoughtful and emotional.
>You take a deep breath, speaking slowly.
"I just don't want to talk about the family I can't see," you say.
>Something internal chides you for being only technically correct.
>She is not quick on her reply, nor is she insistent. She just speaks softly.
>"But it pains you. I know this much."
"Again, not as much as it could."
>"That is no excuse to keep me away."
>On the contrary. In your eyes, being pleasant is a very good reason to keep her out of that particular affair.
"It's not pleasant to talk about."
>"It never is," she replies, this time without a pause. "That was what I was trying to get at."
>Classic Celestia. She would drive a square peg through a round hole only to prove that it didn't fit.
>You've heard something like this before from Twilight Sparkle. She spoke incessantly of Celestia's teaching methods, and tried constantly to replicate them in her lessons.
>"And more to the point," Celestia adds, "I wanted you to tell me about them."
>You give her a puzzled look.
"Who. My family?"
>"Yes."
>You feel the weight on your chest increase.
"Can't I just admit that I miss them, instead?"
>Celestia pauses, and then she smiles warmly at you.
>Lovingly, almost.
>"Yes. I suppose that will do."
>And again, you return to your petting of her for a while.
>But it wouldn't end there, you were sure of that much.
>Celestia was persistant, for a pony.
>
>"Will you tell me about them some day?"
>You contemplate that thought.
"Yes. Yes, of course."
>"Not today, though?"
>...
"No, Celestia. Not today."
>...
>"That's ok."
>The silence makes you aware of the lack of brushing.
>You take a second to remember what you're doing.
>Oh, right. Celestia's mane.
>You return your hand to its duties. You take the brush again.
>There's no real point to you doing it any more, but you know she would appreciate the effort.
>"I'd like to hear about your grandparents first," she says.
"Alright."
>"They lived in interesting times for your people."
>You hesitate as an image of an old relative flickers before your eyes.
>You bite down hard on nothing.
>She was not far from something when you arrived in Equestria.
>Whether or not that something was the end of her days is unpleasant to contemplate.
>More then that, it puts more pressure on the scarlines across your heart.
"Yes, they did," you agree.
>
>After a while, you notice the pegasine down underneath your body has lulled your legs to sleep.
>How long has it been since you laid yourself down?
>You hunt around for a clock.
>You discover one on the wall. It's about half an hour.
>Half an hour of grooming Celestia.
>You remove your hand from her mane.
>She looks up at you, as if to ask the evident question.
>Are you finished?
"Are you feeling better?" you ask.
>"Well, it's a sliding scale," she replies.
"So... yes, then?"
>Her smile falters.
>"Well, I still have that slight desire to explore your hands."
>You roll your eyes.
>"...Better than before, yes."
>That's ambiguous, and she knows it. You can hear it in the hesitation in her voice.
"So, not fully, then?"
>She smiles weakly.
>She's been doing that a lot to you, recently.
>It would be nice of her if it didn't imply she was sad at heart.
>"Well, I just took the chance to think about you."
>Oh.
>Well.
>"I prefer it if my friends are happy. It makes me happy, too."
>...
>Well, you guess she wasn't just going to leave that point hanging, was she?
>You slide your rear back and prop yourself up against the backboard.
"There's nothing I can do," you say impassively
>Celestia's eyes widen, and she sits up, drawing her head back to its familiar, noble pose.
>"Nothing about what?"
"You know."
>Her gentle smile fades back to impassivity.
>You put your hands on your thighs and knead, trying to reinvigorate your sleeping muscles.
"They're there," you say. "I'm here."
>Another simple confession.
"Not much I can do, really."
>Celestia seems to understand what you're saying.
>"But to admit it hurts..." she trails off.
"Is obvious."
>She blinks at you.
>"Don't you think it would be better if you came to terms with your predicament?"
>Your jaw clenches once more.
"That is not in the nature of many humans," you add, treading carefully.
>"So you have said to Twilight Sparkle," she replies. "But she and I both agree that the nature of humans is not to suffer."
>You pause, feeling your heart sink.
"What else has she told you?"
>Celestia shrugs.
>"Only that, on every other visit, she continues to search for a way home for you."
>Right...
>Initially, you feel defensive about what Twilight Sparkle has been telling her teacher.
>"And the bad dreams you have."
>But there's nothing untrue about what Celestia said she said.
>"And your restless sleep, Anon."
>Well. Perhaps that was intentional phrasing on Celestia's part. It would not surprise you.
>"So tell me," the Princess says calmly.
>Something inside you bleeds as old wounds re-open.
"Yes?" you ask, your voice betraying nothing.
>The Princess places a hoof on your hand.
>"What if you couldn't go home?"
>An ugly, feral rage rears its head, and you feel the etchings of something else in your chest
>Dissatisfaction. An anger at what might not be
>You cling to that sense of desperation.
"She said there was a way home."
>Celestia nods.
"She did."
>"She did, yes."
>She takes a moment to think
>"But even you must admit," she adds ruefully, "That my young apprentice is highly naive."
"... And?"
>Celestia shifts a little closer to you.
>Her other hoof strays out, touching your side.
>"What if the feat were... what if it were impossible, anon?"
>She lowers her head again, this time onto one of the pegasus down pillows.
>"What if you had to stay here?"
>A beat of silence deafens you.
>"Forever?"
>The words hang in the air. On one end, they are tied to a dead weight. On the other, they are roped carefully to your heart.
>You rest your head in the hand that isn't held softly in place by Celestia's hoof.
>Giving you time to think about what she just said...
>Every untoward, horrifically unhappy syllable.
>You look at her, lying on the pillow.
>You can see the concern and hurt deep in her eyes
"Are you telling me there isn't a way home for me?"
>Now it's her turn to look thoughtful.
>She has to pick her words carefully.
>"You know what I think," she says slowly. "I don't think there is."
>The fear in your heart intensifies
>But you rationalize the initial flood of panic through your system. Like Celestia said, she's told you exactly as much before.
"So then nothing is new," you say, thinking of her protege. "Twilight is still looking."
>"Yes," Celestia says, frowning. "Yes, she is. I hear about her lack of progress almost every week, anonymous."
>She inhales.
>"...And I'm willing to admit, that after a year, you should give up."
>Your eyes widen.
>For a terrible moment, the mere thought of Princess Celestia of Equestria's words makes you want to yell at her.
>She's probably your only friend in this place aside from Twilight, and for an awful second, you hate her with every fibre of your being for doubting that chance
>But you take a breath.
>A deep one.
>And then another, deeper one.
"No," you say.
>"Anon. I'm sure you and Twilight have worked hard, but..." her voice is soft, imploring. "A year is a year. Perhaps it's time to consider reality."
>You don't like how reasonable she's being.
>And - reality? As far as you're concerned, this is not reality.
>This is Equestria.
"This is NOT my reality."
>"Anon-"
"No! I want to go home."
>"Anon, please. Here is your home. Ponies care about you here."
>You shake your head lightly, and fold your arms.
"In as much as they care if I'm going to eat them or not. Come off it, Princess. Nobody here cares about me."
>"What about me?"
>What?
>You glance her way
>She's not laughing
>She's not even smiling.
>Not that you expected to, of course, it's just that -
>
>Well, you can't really say what it is.
>It's just Celestia.
>"Why would a goddess thousands of years old care about you, hmm?" she says. "That's what you want to say. My designs are for generations and centuries. Why should I care about you beyond my own pleasure?"
>That's what you wanted to say. But you didn't.
>Because that would be rude.
>Of course Celestia cares about you.
>So you shut your mouth and say nothing.
>And Celestia takes away the silence almost instantly. No refuge for you.
>"You might ask that," she says calmly. "And I don't mind. Because I have already trodden this ground a hundred times, with other ponies I care dearly for."
>She pauses.
>"Except it is usually in regard to going to a place I cannot follow."
>Celestia leans closer, continuing to stare deeply into your eyes, speaking with a sincerity that warms you.
>"A hundred times, anon. And I want you to know that the fact that I have seen the end of my friends a hundred times and lived through it a hundred more does not change anything. I am not jaded by time. Every friendship is as precious as the last. I mourned the first student I ever took like she was my own sister. But I think of Twilight the same way."
"Twilight is an alicorn now," you say, absent-mindedly.
>"Yes," Celestia says, smiling with relief and looking away. "Yes, I suppose that is something. I have a new friend to experience my full life with. I'm up to four, now, if you count Luna and Cadence... and I consider myself incredibly lucky."
>Her focus comes back to you.
>"But I will never be jaded by time. I will grow old and pass away one day. Twilight will, too. If Twilight were to pass away, it would hurt me a thousand times over a thousand days. It would hurt me equally as deeply, if not more tomorrow as it would have a hundred - no, five hundred years ago. A thousand, thousand years and times these ponies I cared for have departed, these friends and ones I loved... and I have lived on."
>She lifts her head, and rests it on your shoulder. Her horn grazes your cheek, the tiniest, thimble-like spark stinging your neck.
>You understand the gesture. A unicorn might have touched horns with her.
>Instead, you only smile at her as she continues.
>"A thousand times, anon. But it does not hurt less, and I do not devalue the wonder that is having a friend, or having a student, or having a lover. And you are no different. You might pass back to your world, but that will not change the way I feel about you."
>Her horn prods you gently.
>"I care about you because you are my friend, and I can talk to you about a broad range of things, and..."
>You see her eyes dart down to your hands.
>A tentative blush fills her cheeks with pink.
>"Well, you make me feel good, so there's that."
>You give her a wry smile.
"Well thank you."
>Silly sunbutt.
>Celestia smiles and blushes.
>"Comfort horse."
"Old nag."
>"Meat-eater."
"I'll eat you."
>Celestia giggles, and a good-natured chuckle comes back to you. It lifts your spirits.
>"...See?" Celestia says, after a while. "You're a friend, now, Anon. A new friend. I want to know you better, like friends should know eachother. I don't want you to dwell on what might not ever happen."
>You feel glad to hear her say that.
>Like a trail of hot water pouring down over your neck and back and ears, a pleasant and all-encompassing tingle of warmth overcomes you.
>Although, that may simply be Sunbutt's magic.
>"I think, in the beginning, everypony - even Twilight Sparkle - had to be taught to treat me like a pony." She pauses thoughtfully. "I imagine everypony has to be taught to treat you like a pony, too. And then you will be happy here."
>You aren't a pony.
>But suddenly that doesn't seem like much of a problem.
>"Which is why I always trust you with my privacy and confidence," she adds. "I'd hoped you wouldn't take me for a monarch, and you didn't. And I'm so glad for it, anonymous. So very glad."
>Oh, get on with you, Celestia.
>you slip a hand over and under the hoof on your belly, stroking the pad with an index finger.
>She gasps and chuckles, wrenching her hoof away
>"Aha! Oh, anon. No, no. Don't tickle me, or... or I'll get the wrong idea." She clears her throat, blushing slightly. "Remember. Cycle."
>You take the hoof back and drag her into a surprise hug.
>"Oh!"
>Celestia's protests feebly - perhaps for your own sake - but the walls of her resistance are minimal.
>"Oh, anon."
>...
>And you say nothing, feeling happy and thankful just to embrace Celestia, and remember that there is someone in this world who gives a damn about you.
>Or somepony, really.
>And who clearly has the same reverence for you as you do for her.
>Her wings unfurl and encase you fully, utterly, and for a blissful second you are at peace.