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Nine Hundred Years
Midnight struck at the tower’s bell. Sunset Shimmer couldn’t sleep. She could hear, muffled by the thick stone walls of the castle, the faint echoes of Canterlot’s ponies bursting forth from their homes to celebrate the new year.
This time, she didn’t feel up to joining the carouse, though she had been invited by many of her friends. Odd enough, for a party animal like her. Was it her new position as official royal pupil? Was it the misgivings she had begun to feel recently? She couldn’t say.
She rolled once more in her bed, buried her head under the pillow in a desperate attempt to conjure up slumber. It was hopeless though, so she finally threw the pillow and the blanket away. She sat up, sighing.
She looked round her bedroom. Worn-out, dented furniture; books and scrolls strewn all over the place; a lantern, hanging to a rusted slanting stud, delivering what grim and guttering light its inner flame could muster. There was no solace to find here.
So she shuffled into the corridor and along to the nearest stairway. There she listlessly climbed up to the next landing. She halted, dithered for a brief instant, then crossed the few steps to the huge, finely filigreed door which guarded the entrance to the royal lodge.
She knocked. Once. Twice. Thrice. There was no answer.
Respectfully she cracked the door open and uttered her mentor’s name. Still no response. She pushed the door farther and found herself facing solid darkness. Celestia wasn’t here, that was for certain. She pulled back the door closed and paused. Where could she be at this time of the night? Out for a night on the town? That was unlikely, but…
Crestfallen, she retraced her steps. She was halfway back when another possibility popped in her mind. She doubled back up the stairs to the tower’s top.
Winter’s night was bitterly cold and windy. Across the roof, leaning heavily against the battlements, Celestia was gazing up at the gibbous moon.
Sunset Shimmer padded to her. As she came closer, Celestia turned her head towards her, then down. She sighed.
– ‘Do I disturb you, master?’ Sunset Shimmer asked.
Celestia did not answer. A heavy hush fell.
– ‘I apologise, master,’ Sunset said at last. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
– ‘Nine hundred years. Nine hundred years precisely this year’, Celestia cut in.
– ‘I beg your pardon?’
Celestia raised her head and cocked it towards the moon. ‘For nine hundred years she has been exiled yonder.’
– ‘Master,’ Sunset replied, ‘you know you had no choice but to cast her away, lest the world be bound in darkness eternal.’
Celestia didn’t answer immediately. Somewhere in the distance a firework rose and exploded into a vibrant clover of light, casting transient shadows on the stones.
– ‘I should have done better,’ Celestia said at last. ‘I was remiss, I was blind and careless. I failed her.’
Sunset Shimmer exhaled softly. Wisps of smoke rose from her nostrils, as if she was breathing living fire.
– ‘And now,’ Celestia carried on, ‘I’m affrighted.’
– ‘Affrighted?’
Celestia turned her head towards her apprentice.
– ‘You didn’t notice it. No one does. But the moon…’ She hesitated an instant. ‘The moon falls steadily towards us. Each passing year, it is closer. And in a hundred years, it will be nigh enough for her to leap across the chasm…’
Sunset Shimmer’s eyes widened.
– ‘I don’t know if I will be able to face it,’ Celestia resumed. ‘The only thing I know for sure is that I will not be able to summon the strength to send her thither again for another millenium. Come what may…’
Several loud bangs resounded all round as more fireworks blossomed in every part of the city.
Sunset Shimmer leant against her master’s flank. ‘You will find a way to deal with it, master,’ she said. ‘You always do.’
Celestia sighed. ‘I hope so,’ she answered. ‘I hope so. But I don’t know how, yet. Alas, Sunset, in time, even the wisest may falter.’
Sunset Shimmer didn’t reply.
On the rooftop of Canterlot castle’s Moon tower, Celestia and her pupil remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the horizon, until the very last spark of the very last firework faded away into the starry night.
This time, she didn’t feel up to joining the carouse, though she had been invited by many of her friends. Odd enough, for a party animal like her. Was it her new position as official royal pupil? Was it the misgivings she had begun to feel recently? She couldn’t say.
She rolled once more in her bed, buried her head under the pillow in a desperate attempt to conjure up slumber. It was hopeless though, so she finally threw the pillow and the blanket away. She sat up, sighing.
She looked round her bedroom. Worn-out, dented furniture; books and scrolls strewn all over the place; a lantern, hanging to a rusted slanting stud, delivering what grim and guttering light its inner flame could muster. There was no solace to find here.
So she shuffled into the corridor and along to the nearest stairway. There she listlessly climbed up to the next landing. She halted, dithered for a brief instant, then crossed the few steps to the huge, finely filigreed door which guarded the entrance to the royal lodge.
She knocked. Once. Twice. Thrice. There was no answer.
Respectfully she cracked the door open and uttered her mentor’s name. Still no response. She pushed the door farther and found herself facing solid darkness. Celestia wasn’t here, that was for certain. She pulled back the door closed and paused. Where could she be at this time of the night? Out for a night on the town? That was unlikely, but…
Crestfallen, she retraced her steps. She was halfway back when another possibility popped in her mind. She doubled back up the stairs to the tower’s top.
Winter’s night was bitterly cold and windy. Across the roof, leaning heavily against the battlements, Celestia was gazing up at the gibbous moon.
Sunset Shimmer padded to her. As she came closer, Celestia turned her head towards her, then down. She sighed.
– ‘Do I disturb you, master?’ Sunset Shimmer asked.
Celestia did not answer. A heavy hush fell.
– ‘I apologise, master,’ Sunset said at last. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
– ‘Nine hundred years. Nine hundred years precisely this year’, Celestia cut in.
– ‘I beg your pardon?’
Celestia raised her head and cocked it towards the moon. ‘For nine hundred years she has been exiled yonder.’
– ‘Master,’ Sunset replied, ‘you know you had no choice but to cast her away, lest the world be bound in darkness eternal.’
Celestia didn’t answer immediately. Somewhere in the distance a firework rose and exploded into a vibrant clover of light, casting transient shadows on the stones.
– ‘I should have done better,’ Celestia said at last. ‘I was remiss, I was blind and careless. I failed her.’
Sunset Shimmer exhaled softly. Wisps of smoke rose from her nostrils, as if she was breathing living fire.
– ‘And now,’ Celestia carried on, ‘I’m affrighted.’
– ‘Affrighted?’
Celestia turned her head towards her apprentice.
– ‘You didn’t notice it. No one does. But the moon…’ She hesitated an instant. ‘The moon falls steadily towards us. Each passing year, it is closer. And in a hundred years, it will be nigh enough for her to leap across the chasm…’
Sunset Shimmer’s eyes widened.
– ‘I don’t know if I will be able to face it,’ Celestia resumed. ‘The only thing I know for sure is that I will not be able to summon the strength to send her thither again for another millenium. Come what may…’
Several loud bangs resounded all round as more fireworks blossomed in every part of the city.
Sunset Shimmer leant against her master’s flank. ‘You will find a way to deal with it, master,’ she said. ‘You always do.’
Celestia sighed. ‘I hope so,’ she answered. ‘I hope so. But I don’t know how, yet. Alas, Sunset, in time, even the wisest may falter.’
Sunset Shimmer didn’t reply.
On the rooftop of Canterlot castle’s Moon tower, Celestia and her pupil remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the horizon, until the very last spark of the very last firework faded away into the starry night.
Pics
You could probably cut off the first 200 words of this story, and it would benefit.
The most interesting line in this piece to me was Celestia's "The moon falls steadily towards us," because I thought the implication was that the moon was imminently Majora's Mask-style falling to earth. When it then revealed that this was just rephrasing lore we already know, I lost interest.
Additionally, the most significant emotion in this piece comes from the meta-knowledge that (in her eyes) Celestia is going to fail Sunset eventually too. If you play more on that point, the piece will be stronger.
The most interesting line in this piece to me was Celestia's "The moon falls steadily towards us," because I thought the implication was that the moon was imminently Majora's Mask-style falling to earth. When it then revealed that this was just rephrasing lore we already know, I lost interest.
Additionally, the most significant emotion in this piece comes from the meta-knowledge that (in her eyes) Celestia is going to fail Sunset eventually too. If you play more on that point, the piece will be stronger.
>>Dubs_Rewatcher
I agree wholeheartedly Dubs.
Fact is, except in rare occasions where the prompt lends itself to an obvious crackfic of sorts, I don’t have very much to tell within the framework of MLP, especially because I've decided to limit myself to the first three seasons. I don’t like the idea of a Twilight alicorn, and so I reject every further development of the show. Most of the time, I write about princesses because I like to give to those minifics a metaphysical approach, or at least tinge.
Meanwhile, in cases like this where the prompt cannot be easily shoehorned into something funny, I sort of transform the event into an opportunity to work on style and wording. I was especially happy of your comment on the Discord thread. This little slice of life hit the spot, I guess. Which is more than enough to make me happy. Thanks Dubs! ♡
I agree wholeheartedly Dubs.
Fact is, except in rare occasions where the prompt lends itself to an obvious crackfic of sorts, I don’t have very much to tell within the framework of MLP, especially because I've decided to limit myself to the first three seasons. I don’t like the idea of a Twilight alicorn, and so I reject every further development of the show. Most of the time, I write about princesses because I like to give to those minifics a metaphysical approach, or at least tinge.
Meanwhile, in cases like this where the prompt cannot be easily shoehorned into something funny, I sort of transform the event into an opportunity to work on style and wording. I was especially happy of your comment on the Discord thread. This little slice of life hit the spot, I guess. Which is more than enough to make me happy. Thanks Dubs! ♡