Hooves pound as Celestia gallops down carpeted corridors, twists up spiraling staircases and leaps down entire flights of stairs that leave her skittering when she lands. She radiates joy as she runs, giddy with delight, lost in a heady passion that only grows with every passing classroom. At some point she zooms past a bewildered Twilight and friends, the shouted query and Celestia’s short but lively retort lost in the rush.

“Oh, dear me,” pants Celestia, minutes later, as she rounds yet another corner, slowing by one of the many grand windows that open to the verdant gardens cloistered inside. She beats out a peppy tune as she alternates between trots and paces and a front-and-back bucking, all echoing but the once. She dances about, laughing at life and not caring a whit about how it might make her look.

“I just… I just feel so alive!” Celestia guffaws, high and booming, jumping up on two legs and kicking at the air.

Fingers dig into the flowing mane, silken cords that feel absolutely wonderful to grasp and tug and twist, as Doug gamely holds on. The whirling dervish never comes close to throwing him off, even during the gut-raising leaps that take a bit of faith when she doesn’t spread her wings. The fast trots are difficult to sit, though, and he hugs her thick neck all the tighter. He loves the joy she radiates, how she randomly cuts loose and runs, and that she would share such an intimate moment with him.

“I have this joy,” Celestia elates, “deep in my body, my heart, my soul! It begs to come out and shine, and here it is! ~‘Cause there ain’t no clouds, today, today!~” She grins as her pants gradually slow, though a worried expression crosses her marvelous features. She scuffs at the floor. “Oh, but you must think I'm silly. Dancing about like a filly imitating her first butterfly.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Doug reassures, threading deeper into her luxurious coat.

Celestia nickers playfully, unable to hide her smile. “You’re just saying that.”

“And yet it’s true.” Doug plants a kiss to the base of one ear; it flicks, automatically, before she turns and returns the kiss. “Watching you let go, prance about like a buffoon, without a care in the world?”

Celestia gasps, bringing a hoof to the purple diamond studded in her peytral, all traces of her earlier indecision gone. “Did you just call your Princess a buffoon?”

Doug smirks. “So what if I did?” He pokes her. “You are a buffoon.” His poke becomes a tickling scratch. “Or, maybe, you display all the qualities that make a buffoon so endearing.”

Celestia holds her mock indignation for three seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh, Doug. I thank Harmony for you every day.” She closes her eyes, leans back, and rests her head against his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Doug relaxes, finding her firm, muscular neck the perfect spot, and joins her in staring out over the garden overflowing with yellow-orange-red flowers. They match the Celestial cutie mark perfectly, and if they were closer he might pick one for her. Except she’d probably eat it, or maybe not - she does dine exclusively on cake. There are a few trees sporting plump red and yellow apples, some ranging almost to orange; he wonders how much Applejack made the whole garden a shrine to the Princess of the Sun, and how much was Twilight’s doing.

He asks, like he’s asking his crush about her sire, but more so as a joke, “What does Harmony say about me?”

The question gives Celestia pause. A long pause, time for Doug’s smile to fade as she seriously considers. “You know,” she finally answers, as though thinking through the answer brought about some moral quandary, “I don’t think she’s ever said… anything about you.”

“Huh.” Doug tries to think back, that maybe Discord had made some offpaw comment about him and Harmony, but he can’t remember.

“Now that I think about it…” Celestia’s horn flares, bright enough for Doug to wince and briefly shy away. Her eyes shine white as she stares through him and at her belly.

“Something wrong?” Doug doesn’t like how her jaw sets, nor how her glowing eyes narrow. There is a brief flash as the color in her eyes shifts minutely, but the frown doesn’t fade.

“Used the wrong version on instinct, not Shimmer’s modified version. But no, not that I can detect.” The golden light from her horn fades, the corridor returning to normal hues. “Noon is safe, healthy and growing. Why would Harmony never offer any sort of congratulations, or even acknowledgement? It’s like she doesn’t realize she’s there…”

Celestia walks into the colorful garden, her hooves sinking into the loose, recently planted soil. She finds a sunlit patch and stares upward, mouth moving but no sound coming out.

“Hey,” Doug reassures, gently petting her mane. It seems to help her relax. “Is that different from normal? Like, does she give you a lot of advice on other topics?”

“Well,” Celestia explains, still focusing upward, “she has written her law on my heart, on all our hearts. But she rarely directly counsels on most topics; there is not the need. I may not be perfect, and would never claim to be, but I listen to that law, always. It calls me to live in Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Kindness, Laughter, and Friendship. It has never steered me wrong.”

“So,” Doug says, half-jesting, half afraid that there might be something to this effect, “there’s no voice coming out and saying, ‘thou shalt not breed with the human?’ or anything like that? No literal writing on the wall?”

“No,” Celestia returns, more serious than he likes. “Not in any spectrum I can detect.”

“Alright, then,” Doug says, nodding along. “So we’re probably safe.”

Celestia takes a deep breath, then lets it all out in one big rush. “Oh, you’re probably right.” She paces back and forth, sticking to the sunlight. “I get so worried about every little thing. Like the time I sent Twilight to rescue my Sister: I was pacing back and forth, inconsolable.” She looks down at the path she is blazing in the dirt and laughs at herself, but it’s lower this time, depressed.

“I’d hardly call that a little thing,” Doug objects.

“Yes, I suppose. But after all I’ve seen… I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, for my Sister’s sake or Twilight’s. Sending her into the griffon’s nest like that...” Celestia sighs heavily, the joyous atmosphere gone. She offers him a faint smile. “Sorry to ruin the mood.”

“Nah, it just makes me more intrigued about what more is out there.” He shades his eyes as he looks up, through the leafy trees at the clear blue sky and golden sun. “It’s amazing that you have some being that takes such a personal interest in you, one that you’re able to talk to and work with.”

“She certainly sustains and empowers all us ponies.” Celestia’s horn glows, a stylized image of her cutie mark superimposing over the sun. “Though, I must admit, I sometimes lose sight of that, getting caught up in the minutiae of a project or meeting.” The mark shifts, becoming rigid and tarnished, in dire need of a good polishing to restore its former glory.

“If all it took to get you that happy was a little exercise?” Doug smirks, squeezing her withers with his knees. “You must need to get out more, away from those stuffy nobles and what-have-yous at Canterlot. Join me on more morning runs.” His smirk fades as he looks down, his legs slotting snugly between her wings and golden peytral. “Actually, should I even be riding you, what with your pregnancy and all? The doctors keep warning Applejack and Rainbow about pushing themselves.”

Her wing raises to rub reassuringly at his back. “Perhaps they merely know the propensity those two have for pushing their boundaries. But you are no burden, physical or otherwise.” She flexes her knees to demonstrate, seemingly effortlessly.

Oh, right, part earth pony. Somehow, I wouldn’t doubt she could bench the rest of the herd, all together. Actually, Applejack probably could, too. Pinkie Pie… if you told her she’d get a present for it, she’d find a way.

“In fact,” Celestia continues, “a moderate amount of exercise would not be amiss, and I would be glad to join you on as many of your runs as you would wish. Though I would take care not to neglect the remainder of your mares; they may not say anything, not wishing to provoke their Princess, but their resentment would remain.”

“So,” Doug drolls, leaning back to run his hand under her wing and stretch for her belly, “you don’t want to practice for those fourteen other foals you want?” He sighs, again long and melodramatic. “How will you ever amass more descendants than there are stars in the sky?”

Celestia chuckles, high and tinkling. It’s a beautiful sound, one he loves to hear. “Oh, is that all you’re aiming for?” She winks, then bursts upward, nearly sending him tumbling if not for his knees already locked around her withers. She passes through the mark she made in the sky. It shatters into a dozen pieces, no, sixteen, including the original, each a slightly modified version of Celestia’s cutie mark, the kind they might imagine her foals would have as their own.

A few flaps of the wing later and she lands on one of the shingled roofs, looking down over the expansive moat. “It has come to my attention,” she states bombastically, a shade under the Royal Canterlot, “that my mate is a dirty, dirty stallion.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug quickly rushes out, squeezing her sides, but to no avail.

Two paces takes her to the edge and she leaps. Doug’s stomach lurches along with her, wings still at her side; he clenches close, tucks his head behind hers, they aren’t going to make it, they’re-

They pierce deep into the water, barely clearing the bank. Celestia glances back, making sure he’s still with her - he gives an unsure, if trusting, squeeze - then paddles toward one of the bubble-shrouded walls. They’re far from the entrance, behind one of the many waterfalls, and she has to practically lay on her side to fit through a slender gap in the stone. He’d rather swim himself, but figures she knows what she’s doing, and a moment later they crest the surface in a damp, poorly lit cave.

“Welcome to the sewers,” Celestia announces as Doug gasps for breath. She taps one of the crystal-covered walls, which goes from glowing faintly to a myriad of multicolored candles lighting their way. It looks surprisingly natural for what must be recent construction - well, as natural as twisting caverns filled with glowing crystal can be.

Doug ducks, more out of habit than from actually hitting his head, and wonders whether Celestia’s horn is in danger of scratching the ceiling. But she navigates the branching corridors with surprising ease, like there is some pattern he isn’t privy to, their path taking them ever deeper. They seem to be going around the castle, now buried under the school, if his sense of direction can be trusted.

“Where did this come from?” Doug asks as they pass pools of stagnant water, silence broken by the occasional drip from a stalactite. One massive room draws his attention, filled with large stones and waterfalls and what might be trees; another has a stone table, chairs, and cabinets. Another might be a janitor’s closet. But Celestia passes these by, sparing them but a glance.

Celestia speaks rhetorically as she ambles down steeper and steeper ravines, “Where did the castle come from?” She doesn’t wait, though both of them know the answer, “As far as I can tell, it was constructed from a combination of Harmony’s magic and Discord’s, when you absorbed our powers.”

Doug’s eyes widen as they come to the final room. It isn’t the largest, or the most well lit, but the large stone tree dominating the inside seems, somehow, special, if but a sapling. There are many places etched into the branches and trunk, circles with sockets for gems, each with a design he finds suspiciously similar to Celestia’s and Luna’s mark, and those of his other mares.

“This,” Celestia explains as she reverently advances, Doug feeling conspicuous on her back, “is a Tree of Harmony.”

“A?” Doug asks, if only for confirmation, too stunned by the grandeur for anything more complex. Thin lines connect every gem socket to the other through a central conduit, and if lit up he imagines a full spectrum of colors to come streaming out, though right now it is only dull stone.

“Correct.” Celestia kneels, though makes no motion for Doug to get off; he remains on her back, almost afraid to touch the ground. “The Pillars of Harmony planted another, at our old castle in the Everfree Forest. It is… it allows a closer connection to Harmony, to the Elements.” She pauses only to take a short breath. “Do you think I am doing the right thing?”

“Well,” Doug starts, confused who or what these ‘pillars’ are, but Celestia presses on.

“For nearly a thousand years I have ruled alone.” The regal head bows, golden crown removed and set by her hooves. “Trusting in Harmony to guide me. I have kept her ways, and so have my ponies. We have lived in Harmony, and have thus kept the Windigos, those spirits of hatred and contempt, at bay. We have banded together, for protection against those who seek to destroy us without cause.”

Doug hazards a guess, “And now we’ve invited those same destroyers to join us?”

Celestia nods, grim. “When my Sister returned, I was worried Harmony would demand some pound of flesh, a reminder if nothing else of the consequence of straying. Yet she welcomed Luna back, with open forelegs, the prodigal daughter returning to a life of Friendship. Was that a consequence of your forgiveness, without condition? Perhaps. It gives me hope that she will be as accepting of these other creatures, those who have harried her ponies for generations, for as long as I can remember.” A grimace crosses her muzzle. “And yet I cannot shake the possibility that she may demand some trial, some assurance of their dedication to her cause. And I cannot fault that.”

Doug matches her grimace. “You’re worried they might corrupt what you have.”

“I would not phrase it so bluntly, but I am afraid Harmony sees in stark terms.” Celestia’s visage matches her stark words, a look Doug finds he does not care for at all. “I am leery of their ability to adopt Equestrian ways, or to successfully uproot the entrenched ethics of their societies, so Harmonic seeds might sprout.”

“To answer your original question,” Doug replies, bringing a note of hope to his voice, “is there another way? This way might be fraught with danger, with potential to fail, or be turned against us. No doubt about that. But what other way is there to convince your neighbors besides offering a hoof in Friendship? A horn at their throat?”

“A poor solution, at best,” Celestia agrees.

“Then I think about it like this.” Doug rubs at her ear, drawing her close. “I believe in you, and in Twilight. And if the two of you agree on something?” He smirks. “What can possibly go wrong?”

“Our descendants could outnumber the stars,” Celestia returns, eyes twinkling.

Next Chapter: Ch. 99 - Hotfooted, Part One Estimated time remaining: 16 Hours, 17 Minutes