“Toil without song is like a weary journey without an end.”

-H.P. Lovecraft, American author

How easily those next centuries passed!

Celestia once feared how time was moving so quickly. But that seemed silly now. Why be afraid? Death itself had rejected her. And with nopony to call friend, why fear its coming for others?

The decades and centuries blurred together. They were all the same. There were always old ponies, young ponies, and ponies in between. Why get to know them? Why get attached? She didn’t need more Rookes and Lunas. She had her duty. She had her work.

And it was going so well! No more fits of depression and sadness. No more unwanted lusts or cares. No more weeping for strangers’ deaths. There was just her work. Impersonal bureaucracy and impersonal ministers. It was clean, stable and calm.

It was… nice. Nice and easy. A numb passing of time.

Perfection was impossible, of course. Endless reforms and minor disasters were handled, ever from behind her desk. And now there were always the aches: little pains in her wings and head that never quite went away.

There were troublesome ponies, too, who made things less perfect. They would make unwanted visits, or send cards and notes in efforts to grow close to her.

After trial and error, Celestia had found the easiest way to deal with them. She would accept their overtures, politely calling them “friend” or “student.” Odd tasks would be assigned to let them fancy themselves useful. It made them happy, and got them out of her mane.

They died soon enough, solving the problem.

Sometimes Sombra would come and mock Celestia’s dispassion, and Rooke spoke well of a student now and then. But their opinions mattered little. Whatever Celestia’s private visitors were – ghosts, visions, or mad delusions – even they seemed to be fading. Sombra, Nightmare Moon, the old slave, Rooke… she was seeing them less and less.

She liked to think it was because everything was finally in order. The world made sense: Equestria was her duty, forever and ever. She was getting better at ignoring the distractions, and that included the ghosts.

Or maybe it was the simple crawl of years that was causing her spectral visitors to fade. Memories dulling, then vanishing into the hourglass. Her ponies had forgotten all about Luna, so why shouldn’t Celestia? It would make things even easier. No past to haunt her, no guilt to distract.

Yet even with those memories still within her, it was so easy now. Alone. Always alone, and that was right. No petty, selfish issues to hamper her. No–

Celestia blinked, flinching as green fire suddenly danced above her parlor desk. She reached a hoof to shield the papers, but the flame was gone as quickly as it came. A scroll fell from where it emerged, landing on the cluttered desk.

Tilting her head, Celestia took the scroll with her magic and turned it, eyeing the sender’s mark. A pink and white star, which meant…

Her lips creased into a soft smile. It was Twilight Sparkle, a name she actually remembered. One of Celestia’s so-called “students,” enrolled at the university. An intelligent young mare with a bright future. Next year she might be a researcher, or even a royal agent.

Still, she was nopony important, and Celestia had so much to do before the holiday tomorrow. There wasn’t time to humor the filly by playing pen-pal.

Celestia set the scroll aside, but picked it up again almost immediately. There was no good reason not to look. If it was nothing important, she could fire off whatever trite response was expected and be done with it.

Briskly, mind still on the paperwork before her, Celestia unwrapped the scroll.

Author's Notes:

A thousand years, and change comes unlooked for.