Chapter 11: Issues outside Day Court's remit
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Special thanks to @saganatsu, @DB_Explorer, @fictionfan, @Adephagia, @Wordsmith, @Taut_Templar, Jamie Wahls, @Elfalpha, @BunnyLord, @Drcatspaw, @tinkerware, @Lonelywolf999, D'awwctor, @magicdownunder, @Mordred, and my 16 other patrons not mentioned here. An extremely enthusiastic "Thank you" to @Torgamous for her patronage as well. Also, if you're not on here, you fit the tier, and you want to be added, please tell me.
AN: Enabled and beta-read by @ensou.
Sunset Shimmer
Awakening the following morning was almost worse than it had been the previous day. This time, it was not a set of irksome doctors who awoke me. No, this time it was to the shifting of my perfectly warm nest deciding to get up and trot away.
To her credit, it was for a very good reason even if my half-awake self wanted to be upset. The light of morning soon assaulted my eyelids, and I seriously considered going right back to sleep. It might be worth seeing if Celestia would bother to keep her promise of saying goodbye before she departed for Day Court. Even if I was obligated to forgive her getting up to raise the Sun, I couldn't help but still feel rather grumpy that she had to depart after that. Really, you'd think that the immortal ruler of Equestria adopting somepony would be enough of an excuse for her to go on vacation. But no, she just had to make herself unnecessarily load-bearing to the point that much of the country would grind to a halt if she dared.
Feathers soon brushed across my fur and gently shook me. Apparently Celestia was willing to keep her promise after all, even if it meant waking me up. That was a good sign, wasn't it?
I obligingly yawned, cracked one eye open, and almost immediately regretted it. Celestia's features were fixed in a mask of fondness that instantly made me wonder what she was really feeling. My budding worries were only reinforced by her following words.
"Good morning, my daughter," Celestia awkwardly greeted me.
The delivery made me question her sincerity all over again. Unlike last night, where she seemed just fine, Celestia now clearly needed to force herself to call me her daughter; the words were stilted, her delivery uncertain. I had to wonder if she was having second thoughts already. I had refrained from truly arguing with her at all last night, and if that still wasn't enough? I really didn't know what else I could possibly do. Not outside pretending to be another pony altogether.
Which... might be what she expected and wanted, actually. Foals could be sweet and adorable when one was exposed to them in short doses. If Celestia subconsciously expected me to have regressed in maturity upon becoming undying, or for all our troubles to be solved by an adoption, then she might have assumed that my personality would be shifted back to the bright-eyed filly I'd been back she first took me as her student. By attempting to mend bridges with Cadance, I may have only reinforced that belief.
The more I thought about it, the more I suspected that she really did want me to become somepony else. Celestia had spouted a pretty pile of words about what ponies thought was happening when she didn't immediately punish offenders for overstepping. Didn't that mean she was still just smiling and letting them, though? I refused to follow her idea of 'defending myself' if it was to maintain a mask and refuse to show when any barbs might have landed.
The 'ideal' daughter of Celestia, in the opinion of the general public, would essentially be a clone of her. Soft-spoken, kind, polite, elegant — I could manage the last two if I really had to, but the first pair was right out. Soft-spoken? The whole castle knew of my arguments with Celestia! Meanwhile, kindness in politics was obviously just a means of burying what could be concise and efficient interactions beneath a pile of often-deliberate manipulation.
I tried to picture myself filling that sort of role. The cognitive dissonance from imagining a me-shaped pony smiling placidly and passively at ponies who hated me was like a smack across the muzzle. I just—couldn't do it. I might, if I practiced, be able to pretend for a time. That would last until the precise moment that somepony said something incorrect about magic, or tried to pretend that they were actually an expert in such-and-such subject that I did know well, or otherwise just did something sufficiently wrong. Holding my tongue was a skill that I had developed, tested, and ultimately mostly discarded as not worth the frustration.
Still, Immortals somewhat regressing would explain Cadance's entire personality. Disproportionately impacted by the opinions of other ponies, a need to be at the center of attention at all times, underdeveloped skillset, avoidance of attention from strangers…
…Good grief, I truly might have to start being nicer to Cadance for more reasons than just the obvious. I wasn't a monster; I didn't bully foals. Then again, my hypothesis may be entirely wrong, at which point I would be embarrassing both of us if I started treating a mare over a year my senior as though she was a younger filly. I would need to tentatively perform various subtle tests over the course of several weeks.
"Does that form of address make you uncomfortable?" asked Celestia, apparently deciding my silence was concerning. "I can refrain if so."
Truthfully, being called her daughter was growing on me faster than a parasprite swarm let loose in a granary. Yes, it was strange and new, but it was also a repeated reminder that I was the first pony Celestia had ever adopted as a daughter. Even if she may or may not be using it as yet another means of control, I was still going to be her daughter.
"I actually like it and don't want you to forget," slipped from me.
Celestia and I winced almost simultaneously. I hadn't meant to say that aloud, but in my defense, I was still waking up.
"Sunset," Celestia sighed. "You need not worry about that. Part of the reason for your adoption is specifically to ensure that I do not neglect you so severely again. I have had personal students before, all of whom already had preexisting families of some sort. I have not adopted or birthed a daughter at any point."
I wavered for a moment. It was an opening, certainly, but I didn't want to defy her so soon after such a declaration. Irritation at her hypocrisy ultimately prevailed.
"You say this right before going about your normal day," I tried to say evenly.
Tried, and failed. My words emerged as an accusation, and I already knew how Celestia handled those. Sure enough, this was one aspect for which she acted as I expected, adoption or not.
"Sunset–" Celestia started, then corrected herself. "My daughter, I am doing what I can. We will still be able to take meals together as always, and I will squeeze in lessons with Spring Hail where my schedule permits. But you are not the only pony who needs me."
'Doing what you can' so long as it doesn't require you changing any of your prior plans, I thought bitterly. Many ponies would understand taking some time off to celebrate an adoption. I've watched you give ponies plenty of paid leave so they could be with loved ones more than once. But I'm not truly one of those, now am I?
"I am sorry that it cannot be otherwise," she apologized without any intent of making changes. "I expect it will take some three months before I have worked through the cases already promised, and will be able to reduce the number of petitioners I see in a day to almost exclusively appeals of potential injustices."
Her words were akin to being pushed ever further into the middle of a cold, but nonetheless horribly familiar, pond. The timetable would have been disappointing, but tolerable, if I could trust it. I couldn't. This wasn't the first time that Celestia said she would try to take fewer cases during an especially important stage of my studies. In the end, though, some sob story would grip her attention and she would feel compelled to take a personal hoof. Then since she was already breaking her promise, she would take on another, and another, and more, because ponies assumed that Princess Celestia would hand out a better verdict than any of the lower courts that they might appeal to. That those lower courts used Celestia's decisions as precedent, and Celestia ensured that her own decisions were consistent, was something ponies seemed perpetually oblivious to.
"Working toward ensuring that projects no longer need my approval, but still have suitable oversight, will also take quite some time," Celestia added. "As much as I appreciate the Royal Loyalists for attempting to ensure I keep as much power as possible, their stance is somewhat inconvenient now that I seek to utilize less."
'Quite some time' was a politically fraught understatement. Internal portions of Celestia's government might be able to do well enough on their own, but they were already less time-consuming than the alternatives. I didn't know whom Celestia thought that she could possibly appoint to judge the ambitious proposals of nobles, ponies who were rather famously allergic to needing to answer to any pony save their peers or Celestia herself. I certainly wouldn't be a politically palatable option, and Cadance probably wouldn't know the first thing about distinguishing between cronyism, outright fraud, and a good-faith attempt.
Not for the first time, I felt as though Equestria's ponies needed to learn how to fend for themselves. This excessive reliance on Celestia might have made sense in Equestria's fraught early days, but now we were prosperous enough to afford plenty of mistakes.
Either way, her every word only reinforced what I'd already suspected: the offer of adoption meant far more to me than it did to her. I was no longer looking at Celestia, unwilling to watch that horrible mask of understanding that never understood anything.
"Sunset," she said more gently, unveiling the carrot to go with her stick. "I am determined to do better, and I promise that we will be able to focus more time and attention on you after I have cleared already scheduled petitions. I will not forget about you, and shall continue to work on your gift wherever time permits. But I cannot drop everything to be with you any more than you would be willing to cease your studies of magic to trail after me."
That claim got my attention. Most of my studies were centered around ensuring that I fulfilled Celestia's expectations, but she had promised me lessons in governance. She seemed to have forgotten all about that promise now, yet I certainly hadn't. Plus, I actually felt fine; no more twinges or aches assaulted my body, and my magic seemed to have finished settling overnight. I forced myself to look back at her, eyes narrowed.
"You did promise lessons in governance to get around exactly this problem," I reminded her.
Celestia appeared taken aback at that.
"S—Daughter, I meant meetings and documentation review, not Day Court. You would–"
Celestia stopped and paused for several seconds. Eventually, the immortal diarch sighed and appeared to amend what she was going to say.
"If—if you truly wish to observe the cases brought by petitioners, then you may. But despite your position by my side, it would effectively be as a member of the audience subject to even stricter conditions, not as a participant. That would mean no practicing spells, speaking, glaring at the petitioners, or otherwise disrupting proceedings. You would need to remain quiet and unobtrusive the entire time. You effectively have more freedom here in the hospital than you would in Day Court. Failing to adhere to these conditions would cause the both of us a great many problems."
'Here are all the reasons you wouldn't like it, and should go entertain yourself while I'm busy.'
I knew that she knew the reasons it might be advantageous for me to come, though, and those hadn't been mentioned at all.
Day Court, despite its eclectic scheduling and lumping of everypony under 'petitioners,' actually fell into multiple different categories. First there were those with grievances related to different aspects of the law. Perhaps they had been harmed by another who may or may not have technically broken any laws, but had certainly done damage. Maybe it was a territory dispute due to poor record-keeping, or a clash between old laws and new. At any rate, such cases often drifted up to Celestia after local magistrates determined that they lacked the authority to rule on the case, or after said magistrates ruled against ponies and they sought an appeal.
Second were those seeking support. Businessponies and innovators who wished for formal crown support rather than that of other wealthy investors, whether that be due to loyalty to Celestia or simply an inability to convince anypony else. Also included in this category was the unending stream of businessponies who thought that they could get one over on the Princess of the Sun herself, and promptly found themselves disabused of this function and their reputation in tatters. Somehow, this type never learned.
Third were those seeking exemptions to Equestria's laws. This usually took the form of nobles who wanted to bend the laws a bit for what they promised would be the benefit of their territory, promise! A fraction of the time, they were even telling the truth — but in the vast majority of cases, they were pushing their luck and I remained annoyed that Celestia tolerated it.
Far less common were researchers who wished to delve into subjects forbidden for good reason, such as archeologists delving into cursed ruins or defensive specialists who needed dark magic if they were to test the viability of their creations. Often, their requests were suspended until later; needing to submit a full report on all available information on the ruins before permission could be considered, for example. Other times, they might be given what they allegedly wanted but not what they'd asked for, such as the aid of a preexisting licensed dark magic practitioner rather than being allowed to utilize it themselves.
There apparently used to be more such researchers in ages long past, but with the invention of the printing press and newspaper, it became rather disadvantageous to be associated with dark magic regardless of one's justification. The cultural stigma remained alive and well, and any ponies asking for permission could say goodbye to any and all funding not provided by the Princess herself. Nopony wanted to risk assisting Equestria's next villain — and unlike a great many other phobias that ponies feared, this one was sensible. According to the Grimoire, dark magic was insidiously self-reinforcing; the more that a pony used it, the more that they would prefer it over all other solutions. Dark magic was not a toy, and somepony weak-willed enough to resort to it before exhausting every alternative was not one who could be trusted with it.
At any rate, Celestia was implying that I would be seated beside her rather than as part of the crowd of onlookers. Even if it turned out to be just as horrible as Celestia was trying to make it sound, doing that for one day would help support the idea that I was going to be somepony important to Equestria in the future. Perhaps more importantly still, the press would receive word within hours and be ready to pounce in the evening. It would be an opportunity for Celestia to announce my adoption, and whether she took that opportunity or not would tell me a great deal regarding whether or not she was truly having second thoughts.
"If it's truly awful," I told her, "I just won't come again. I feel all better now anyway."
Princess Celestia appeared pained by my initial decision, but that likely-feigned unhappiness vanished instantly the moment I mentioned feeling all better. An unimpressed stare took its place.
"I realize that you are understandably in a hurry to be out of bed, but that does not mean—Sunset Shimmer!"
I continued pointedly spinning the trio of books I'd levitated from the nearby side table. Physically speaking, I felt magnificent. There was more magic available to me than I'd ever possessed in my entire life, and every bit of it was mine. This alone would have been worth treating with Voice for.
"Not even a twinge," I reported. "Besides, all I was doing was laying around anyway. I don't need to be in the hospital for that."
Princess Celestia did not look reassured in the least. She hadn't transitioned all the way to anger, but she was quite clearly frustrated.
"You may return to the castle once you are cleared by doctors, but you are certainly not attending Day Court today. I am not rewarding you for continuing to be reckless with your health!"
I huffed and glared back at her. So, despite saying that you would let me attend, you change your mind the moment I actually want to. Typical.
"Voice already said that the staff hooved off my case to newcomers that nopony likes," I bit out. "They won't know anything that I can't diagnose on my own; I've read every piece of scientific literature published on alicorns in the last century and a good bit from centuries past, which is probably far more than they have."
"They still know plenty about–" Celestia started, then faltered, a flicker of regret indicating that she was aware of her own mistake.
The reminder of my own lack of wings did not sting as much as it used to. Voice's assurances, and learning that Celestia couldn't say much without sabotaging me, had helped quite a bit in that regard.
"About unicorns?" I finished for her. "So do I. I feel fine, Mother."
The sharp use of her new title brought Celestia up short. Briefly. The immortal princess inspected me for several seconds before, as usual, completely failing to make any concessions whatsoever.
"I am still not rewarding you for your continued recklessness," Celestia said evenly. "I will alert your team that you are feeling better. If you truly are well, I expect they will be able to send you on your way within two hours. Voice claims that she can bring you back from the dead, Sun—my daughter. I would have thought that the last several days would demonstrate that she will not do so for lesser injuries, and you remain perfectly capable of damaging yourself."
Wouldn't She, though? Something had drastically improved my condition overnight, and I doubted Celestia's cuddles had suddenly acquired healing properties on their own.
...Probably.
Maybe.
On second thought, I wasn't willing to claim that the Goddess of the Sun did not, in fact, possess the ability to heal through mere proximity, especially given my newly altered physiology. It would certainly explain why I suddenly seemed to find such cuddling to be far more comfortable.
Either way–
"I am not sticking around to have those horrible doctors talking past me again and poking at me like I'm a particularly interesting plant!"
I wanted to spend the day with you, not strangers, and you won't even allow that much.
Justification delivered, I directed magic to my horn and began imprinting upon the world a familiar spell matrix. Realization soon flashed across Celestia's features.
"Sunset, do not–" Celestia started.
The last of her words were lost as I started the first of many chain-teleports toward the castle — and despite teleportation being one of the most physically rigorous magics out there, I felt just fine, Celestia.
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