Celestia takes one deep breath after another, steeling herself as she dredges up painful memories she thought she had long put to rest. A light touch pushes Doug away; she doesn’t want to associate him with the memories, as much as it pains her to do so. He lets her go, reluctantly, one hand trailing on her side until he parts with a light squeeze to her flank.

Twilight, sensing imminent story-time, zips away from Rainbow Dash and Spike. The two pause their practice, exchange eye-rolling looks at her predictability, and follow. The three land in a loose circle in front of Celestia. Twilight beams with excitement while Spike grabs quill and parchment, just like when they were young, while Rainbow Dash bemoans the fact that Doug is sitting close to Celestia and not with her. She settles for snuggling up next to Fluttershy on one side and Rarity on the other, the circle of mares quickly filling in.

If there is one mare who isn’t waiting on tenterhooks it would be Luna, and to a lesser extent Cadance. The cobalt alicorn mutters about the wisdom of bringing up this tragic tale, though she doubts her Sister would listen to her unless she objected so strenuously the other nations would suspect they were covering something up. The history isn’t hidden, not for anycreature who cares to delve into the lesser-circulated tomes of Celestia’s rule. She surmises that at least half of the nations present have read the unabridged version. Obviously the griffons have, with their ability to recount any slight and twist it to a version demanding recompense. The goats pass scraps of papers to the minotaur. Even the Storm King has a politely neutral mask, not the scowl Tempest Shadow wears as she stands at attention next to him, though the sanguineness he has presented toward Equestria has only enhanced her suspiciousness.

Celestia regally stands, drawing the attention of the silent spectators. Her mane, an aurora that spreads behind her like a majestic mantle, gently waves in time with her breath. Her golden regalia, polished to a mirror shine, reflects the same warmth of her motherly smile.

She pauses to scan the Council of Creatures, gaze halting on each for a brief moment before passing to the next. She seems to acknowledge every single creature, her lips moving the barest amount giving the impression that she is recalling their titles, or to the suspicious their fears, or to the most paranoid their innermost desires that they might only dream of. And perhaps there is a kernel of truth in that sentiment, that she is privy to these private pinings, given that she restored the Aspect of Dreams to her position.

After a long while, but to none an onerous one, the Princess of the Sun clears her throat and begins. “For as long as I can remember my desire to have a foal has been a powerful one. For what greater way to shape the coming future is there than raising foals? It is a desire I have pursued, some might say endlessly.”

Celestia sighs, losing some of her warmth. “Rising Heights was not the first lover I took,” Celestia continues, drawing a quick chuckle from Cadance and a loud snort from Luna. She mock glares at her little Sister before adopting a carefully crafted smile. “But, for a very, very long time, I was certain he would be the last. But despite countless trials, setbacks, and… disappointments, it is one I have not given up in my one thousand, one hundred and ten years of ruling Equestria.”

“Wait,” Twilight interrupts, her eyes growing wide with the realization. Celestia patiently waits. “That would mean that the coming Summer Sun Celebration will be your one thousand, one hundred and eleventh! Your ones-versary!”

Celestia smiles as Twilight beams. “Indeed. And for my Sister, since she has returned to us after a thousand year… hiatus, it will be her one hundred and eleventh.”

“One hundred and twelfth,” Luna corrects, if just to be contrarian. “We were around for thou raising the sun last year.”

Celestia scoffs. “Then you weren’t around for the Summer Sun Celebration a thousand years ago.”

Luna pouts. “Fine,” she concedes, settling down. “This will be our one hundred and eleventh.”

Twilight practically explodes with excitement. “And this will be my first! As an alicorn and a Princess, that is.” She spins to beam at Cadance. “And this will be your…” She pauses, frowning. “Wait. You’ve been an alicorn, what, twenty years?”

“True,” Cadance confirms, “But I have been a student for a good number of those years, yes?” She shoots a wink at the lavender alicorn busily chewing her hooves to shreds. “One could argue that this will be my eleventh as a Princess, yes?”

“You know what this means?” Twilight’s hooves can barely contain her smile as she beams at her fellow Princesses. “This will be our combined one thousand, two hundred, thirty-fourth Summer Sun Celebration!” She spins to face her herdmates. “We have to do something!”

“~One, two, three, four,” Celestia repeats, singing the numbers. One can almost hear the guitar in the background, a forlorn melody that doesn’t match the excitement Twilight and the others show.

“~Tell me that you love me more,” Doug chants, keeping to the mournful tone.

Tears come to the alabaster mare as she pieces together snippets of the heisted song. She briefly lifts her head to regard her Sister before dropping down.

“~Sleepless long nights
Left you with nothing but they want some more.
Oh, uh, oh, you’re changing your heart.
Money can’t buy you back the love that you had then.”

Celestia blankly looks up, barely noting the eager anticipation on everypony’s faces, and even on a few of the non-ponies making up the back ranks.

For a moment, she lets the veil slip. For all that her coat is an illustrious white it seems to wither and gray, as if her centuries were finally allowed to take their toll on her. Crows feet around her eyes that would properly be termed a murder, for all the sorrows she has seen or caused, prevented or simply let happen. Those magenta depths, containing countless ponies lost to the relentless march of time, her memories of them locked as stars in a demiplane few know how to access. A vault that can scarcely contain the crushing despair, the futility, the sheer indifference of the universe to mortal plight.

Her somber tone dissipates any remnants of their jovial moods. Only Pinkie Pie seems unaffected, her carefree smile a sharp contrast to the haunted looks the others share.

“Approximately three hundred years ago,” Celestia begins, forcing herself to calmly gaze across the audience. Her voice is steady, though it threatens to drop to a despondent haze at any moment. “I met a pegasus by the name of Rising Heights. He was everything one would want in a mate. Dedicated, both to his craft and to his partners. He pushed himself to ever higher heights, as his name might suggest, and there truly seemed to be no limit. I admired his drive, and he encouraged and challenged me to train my own capabilities further than any other.” Her wings spread out, displaying their impressive plumage. Celestia offers a melodramatic sigh and shake of her head. “Alas, I fear I have lost some of my tone in the ensuing centuries.”

A few scattered chuckles and mentions of cake percolate from the audience, as if they are unsure of whether or not they are supposed to laugh at or even with the diarch. Those that do keep their eyes on the alicorn while the others nervously glance at their rulers, most of whom have looks of barely disguised contempt at an admittance of weakness.

Celestia holds the position for a few seconds before continuing. She has a fond smile, if forlorn, speaking with a slight shake of her head. “If he had one failing, it was that he had an entrenched opinion on everything, even if - especially if - he was not the most informed on the subject. In fact, you could have said that he was full of hot air, enough for an entire court of nobles!”

This time the reactions are reversed, with many of the rulers grinning at the reminder of their own subjects who oftentimes interject ideas far outside their areas of expertise. The few nobles in attendance, mostly from the Realm of Clouds, take the ribbing with the good nature it was intended, though they are mostly thinking of their colleagues. The gloom from earlier lifts, if slightly, ears perking up while smiles encroach on dour muzzles.

“It certainly helped during the long conversations we had while we soared, about every topic under the sun. And his endurance!” A twinkle shines in Celestia’s eye as treasured memories bubble to the surface. She stands still for a moment, just staring off into the distance. On the opposite side of Doug a wing spreads its feathers, as if welcoming her beloved to her side.

“We could, and would, spend all day - and sometimes multiple - just soaring through the skies, riding thermals while we... rested.” A sly smile spreads across the alabaster muzzle, absolute certainty that they were not merely resting. This draws more laughs, though they immediately cease at the sorrowful look in Celestia’s eyes.

“It was during one of these flights that the unthinkable happened.” Celestia’s remorse is palpable, withers sagging as her head bows. “Perhaps I thought that this time, that he might be different. That what we shared was special enough to make manifest for more than a tortured moment. It would be a lie to say that I did not know this might occur. But when our love was denied-”

Her breath catches, and the hall is silent. She diverts her red and blackened eyes, tears fizzing into steam. Her mane, the ever-flowing rainbow of pastels, ignites into a mass of oranges and reds and pinks, billowing behind her as an inferno. Heat radiates into the crowd, not enough to burn but enough for nopony to want to step closer.

“Excuse me,” Celestia stammers as an afterthought, swiftly spinning and leaving a glowing afterimage of her flaming mane.

Doug has been sitting there impassively. He never likes hearing about Celestia’s - or, for that matter, any of his mare’s - previous partners, even if the stallion in question is long deceased. But Celestia’s hurried step, her fervent search even as she aims straight for him, is too much. He spreads his arms wide, openly welcoming the despondent mare despite her reckless charge.

Her horn misses his neck by mere inches as she buries her head against his chest. Scalding drops sizzle as they splash against his armor. She twists as his arms envelop her, wishing the protective plate was not between them.

“Hey,” he consoles with all of his heart, gripping his mare against him with all of his strength. And yet it isn’t enough, not even close, and he hates that she has to hold back or crush him like a can.

And so he ignores the pain, the burning in his hands, the fleeting thought that he might singe Rarity’s present, to merely hold her as best he can.

“It’s okay,” they both say.

Celestia effortlessly breaks his grip to pull her head away. She rests her nose against his, staring into his eyes. He is too stunned by her attempt to console him to speak, running his hands through the sweltering mane.

“I would never do this to you,” she promises, barely above a whisper yet loud enough for everycreature to hear.

“Never do what?” Doug asks, puzzled, even as it feels like she is doing exactly that.

Celestia blinks. “Oh,” she says with a single chuckled snort. With a thought she calms the inferno behind her, the temperature of the room gradually returning to something comfortable. She notes the pinkness of the skin along his exposed neck, nuzzling the tender spots with light kisses. “I shall make this up to you.”

“Make what up?” Doug asks with a carefree smile, one gloved hand slipping from her side to caress her neck. “This?” He continues upward, drawing a faint line across her muzzle until the cutie marks embroidered on the glove are visible to both. “Rarity might have been disappointed if I lost the reminder she made, but it’s nothing to losing you.”

“You are too kind,” Celestia replies, kissing the golden sun on the base of his thumb. She declines to go further, much as she can sense his growing desire. “Where was I?”

“Something happened to Rising Heights?” Doug asks, engrossed in the tiny bit of tongue that peeks out between her lips. “You fire him?”

Celestia starts, then takes a deep breath. She would never hide something from her stallion, much as she might want to, nor the Council. The truth would come out, and she firmly believes that is preferable to any lie, no matter how well intentioned.

“In a sense,” she replies, hanging her head. “In my fury I incinerated him, the only remnants ashes scattered by the wind.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 37 - The Red Dream, Part Two Estimated time remaining: 26 Hours, 16 Minutes