>It perplexes you endlessly
>Baffles you
>Downright near insults you honestly
>This is the third Grand Galloping Gala you've been to
>Ever since Celestia entrusted the party planning to Pinkie and Twilight they've gotten a lot less "stuffy uppercrusts, stuffing their uppercrusts up other uppercrusts" and become more "Huge once a year blowout parties"
>Applejack took over catering and now the food and drink actually tastes like food and drink should
>The best part is that everypony looks a lot happier in the dresses and suits Rarity makes
>It used to be tradition that ponies wear what their ancestor wore a hundred years ago or some other trite like that
>Now you've actually seen some nobles arriving and looking like actual effort was put into their clothes
>It was amazing
>It is amazing
>Or at least, you're pretty sure it's supposed to be
>But you can't get your mind off of one thing
>Celestia
>She's been going to these things since before anyone here was born
>She's the mare host with the most
>The most beautiful gown out of any other
>The most wonderfully preened wings
>The most alluring hair
>The most mesmerising voice
>Even from here you can hear it
>And you're staring
>Again
>Fuck it
>Hopefully somepony had the common sense to spike the punch
>You dunk your cup in the bowl of fruit juice and take a swig
>Thankfully, the drink kicks you in the back of the throat
>Ah, that sweet burning sensation
>Made you feel like you were actually here for a reason
>Even if it was to just empty the food table
>You catch yourself in the reflection of the punch
>Well groomed, well dressed, in the best years of your life, and in the definitive best place you could be
>But you were still a miserable sod
>You dunk your cup in the punch with a little more force this time to distort the reflection and chug what you pull up
>Who cares if your suit gets a little wet now
>If the previous galas were anything to go by, within the next few hours, everypony else was gonna be more liquored up than the village drunkard you'd find in an early Irish novel
>You were just getting a headstart
>Over the rim of your cup she catches your gaze again
>You can't seem to do anything without ending up back where you started
>Staring at the alabaster princess of the sun
>Celestia
>It's like the world had pulled your idea of perfection from the darkest corners of your mind and moulded it perfectly out of clay
>But she just had to be surrounded by ponies every second of the god damn night
>They weren't even doing it right
>Always in front of her with some hunch in their posture to lower themselves
>Never beside her, or sneaking up behind her to give her a well-meaning spook
>They just talk and talk
>Gushing out the same old endless drivel
>"This is a wonderful party, YOUR MAJESTY" or "I'm sure next year will be just as grand if not more, YOUR HIGHNESS"
>Do these fuckers not remember that she has a name or something
>What was in that punch?
>Turning back to your cup, you swish around what little was left of the drink
>Looking over to the punch bowl, you notice that no pony else has touched any of the food or drink there
>Screw it, you’re already tipsy, may as well go full drunk now
>Get the actual party going
>Just as you begin making yourself drunk, it begins
>The music
>The band that played enchanting melodies throughout the night
>Or so they’d been advertised
>Everypony else seemed to be able to get caught up in some magical… thing that you couldn’t feel or probably comprehend honestly
>Dancing and swaying
>Laughing and playing
>It looked like fun, felt like it too
>Every time, you felt something tug at your chest, like someone had wrapped silk string around your heart and was tugging you gently
>But nothing ever came of it
>You tried dancing to one song and just kind of shimmied your feet, swayed your arms and left to get more drunk
>Could be worse
>There could be no reason at all for you to come here
>But every year you’d have at least half the party come up to you at one point and ask you to regale them with stories from your world
>It was pretty easy to blow through your life, but they didn’t have any of the history of your world
>They had none of the myths or legends, the epic fables or crushing tragedies
>Luckily, you had a lot of those in the back of your head
>So there was almost no end to your story-telling
>Speak of the devil and he will come, or you should say devils
>With the band still getting into the zone, you’ve been swarmed by the mob that had finally finished endlessly kissing the dirt Celestia walks on to come bother you instead
>What to tell them this time though
>So much history
>So many pantheons
>So little time
>So few poems too
>You certainly liked them, but only a handful had the sticking power to satisfy you
>Maybe you could change it up tonight
<>
>”Alright ‘my little ponies’ gather round” There was his voice again
>You’ve ruled Equestria for a thousand years
>Had countless artifacts and ruins brought to your attention
>Helped your guards figure out the fickle clues left in the most heinous crimes that you’ve had stricken from record
>Even before you and Luna rose to take Equestria under your wings you’d been an adventurous sort
>Figuring out the mysteries of earth, flight and the arcane
>All while you were too young of course, according to Starswirl
>Yet, out of everything
>He was the most curious
>Sadly, you had little to no free time to start unravelling whatever mysteries he had
>Even when you did, you put it off
>He lived in Ponyville, barely a week went by where something didn’t go wrong there
>What were you supposed to do anyway, go to Ponyville, knock on his door and say “Hello Anonymous, wanna have some tea and chat?”
>You certainly couldn’t invite him up to the royal palace for something so simple
>You’d look like a foal
>Though, the only foals you can see in this party are the subjects who have gathered around him to listen to one of his tales
>They’re not even doing it right
>He’s stood there, awkwardly leaning against a food table, with no room to move his feet or put any physical flare into what he’s going to say
>What he wants to say
>You can tell by his reserved movements he would put on a full play if he could, but your ponies stifle him
>As they do all too often
>Bless their souls though, they never intend to, and he never seems to take offence anyway
>But for filly’s sake, they haven’t even invited him to sit down, and they’ll probably interrupt him with a stupid question that will break the flow of his story
>That was how it always ended with these things
>You’ve never been able to hear a full story out of him
>Buck this, you need something to take the edge off
>Luckily, you found some very old bottles deep in your personal cellar
>A little bit mixed into the punch, well actually, the whole bottle mixed into the punch, and you might actually be able to enjoy this Gala
>And, the table that your little ponies have cornered him in front of, is the table that has your punch and your food
>Why the chefs always insisted on making an entirely separate table for you, baffles you
>It perplexes you
>If you didn’t know any better, you’d feel downright insulted
>As if you’re only here to empty the table of food and drink
>Breathe Celestia, breathe
>Take the stress in
>Crush it in your lungs
>Let it exit you
>At least your ponies won’t take up his time for long
>The band’s started, so they’ll start dancing soon
>”...well ‘my little ponies’-” You can’t help but smirk at that
>You’re almost certain he’s using that as a way to mimic you
>Maybe even tease you
>It is certainly refreshing
>”-this time I thought I’d regale you with a poem from my world”
>You had kept up the air of vested interest in the party as a whole, whilst keeping your ears turned to him
>But now your full attention snaps to where he’s stood
>It was literally impossible to interrupt a poem, it wasn’t a story or a legend that needed context or explanations
>Though you really don’t think your ponies needed to know what “the fire of knowledge” represented or who “Prometheus’” parents were
>Poems were like songs
>You’d have to be either extremely drunk or supremely stupid to interrupt
>You may actually get to hear the whole thing
>This Gala is shaping up to be one of the better ones
>Even if you don’t get to dance with anypony
>Again
>You clear your head as he clears throat
>”Now, how did it start…” You had begun to silently shuffle towards him to make sure you could hear him over the band “...ah yes” Once more he clear his throat and you actually hold your breath
>”Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary-” Weak and weary, that certainly describes the tone he’s taken
>Yet it doesn’t feel forced, it’s like you can feel the weight of true exhaustion in his words
>”-Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping-” As if on cue, one of the players on the band, Octavia you believe her name is, lightly struck the side of her cello
>She draws her bow across it, and a deep baritone echoes through the Gala hall, and silences it
>”As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door. Only this, and nothing more” ” His voice took on a note of sorrow, ever so feint, but ever so real
>’Tis some visitor’ A story of a man so lost in his works that he could not believe that someone he knew would come to visit him
>That explains the sombre tone
>”Ah-” The sigh he lets out, feels like he’s releasing some weight you can’t see “distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor”
>Not just a man, but an old man, very old
>Having lived enough years to see ghosts in the world around him
>”Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow from my book surcease of sorrow-” His voice has slowly lowered as he tells the poem, as if the very act of speaking the words sapped his strength
>Yet the cello never overrode him, only accented him
>Finally he took a deep swallow, as if to steady himself for more of the tale “...sorrow for the lost Lenore.” His eyes slowly drift up from his cup to the ponies in front of him, “For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.” His eyes went past your ponies
>And landed on you
>”Nameless here, for evermore”
>Then they swept past you and went to the ceiling, and he seemed to find strength he didn’t know before as he continued 
>”-uncertain rustling of each purple curtain. Thrilled me. FIlled me with fantastic terrors never felt before-” He spoke with vigor even as he spoke of uncertainties and the contradiction of fantastic terrors
>Or maybe, not so contradictory
>You had a story or two from your past where you were filled with an odd emotion, fantastic terror, seemed a good fit
>”-Deep into that darkness peering…” Like any great tale, he leaves no room for stagnation in your emotions, as his voice grows sombre again, an edge of fear in his voice
>As though he had transported himself to that dusty old study, surrounded by mountains of books and ghosts upon the floor, only to be struck dumb at the empty hallway that laid behind the grand doors he’d swung open
>”...long I stood there…” You can almost imagine yourself beside him and feel a shiver run up your spine
>His people certainly had a way with words, and he with a way of presenting them
>“...wondering...fearing.” He took a great pause from the poem to slake his thirst and take a breath
>His eyes danced across the room, like he was uncertain which world was the story anymore
>But nonetheless he continued, and spoke of wondrous things
>Terrible, yes, but wonderful
>He spoke of ‘a stately raven of the saintly days of yore’
>Of ‘a bust of Pallas’
>Of ‘the Night’s Plutonian shore’
>And of ‘Nevermore’
>You’re starting to understand why your ponies had such a hard time not asking questions now
>You have to force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat
>Your subjects have an… off look on their faces
>You’d seen it a million times on a million faces
>Faces that were listening, but had stopped hearing a while ago
>They nodded and smiled
>Smiled
>At this poem that told of a man who’d lost all he held dear, took small fancy in a passing bird, and took it as a sign of evil from just one word
>The poem speaks of the man desperately begging the bird to tell him he’ll see his “Lenore” again
>But is told “Nevermore” and nothing more
>”And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting. On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber doors” A very old man, from a very old story
>An old story being told who knows how long after it was first written, who knows how many miles away
>Yet with the way he spoke, Anon said it as if the bird were on that bust, even now
>”And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s, that is dreaming, and the lamp-light o’er him streaming, throws his shadow on the floor: and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor. Shall be lifted. Nevermore!” Anonymous lets out a breath that he’d seemed to be holding for a long time
>As did you
>As did your ponies, and a thunderous applause roared from them, and you
>It’s been a long, long time since a poem and poet had captured you like that
>Curiouser and curiouser
>The light seemed to refill the room as the band picked up their tempo with the next song
>Which caused all your ponies to finally take to the floor
>Which in turn, meant you could finally get a drink
>Maybe not as big a one now, you may not need it to enjoy yourself tonight
<>
>Sometimes you thought if what you felt like when you had them rapt in a story was what it was like to be a father telling his children a bedtime story
>Nearly anything new fascinated these ponies endlessly
>Yet despite the applause or thanks they’d give you for sharing your world with them
>They all just pissed you off
>Cause they were fascinated with you, but ignored the most fantastic thing you’d ever seen in your life
>Celestia, freed from the endless drudgery of paperwork and the banal charade that the nobles called court
>That’s why you were perplexed, baffled, and insulted
>Because even as a new song begins to flow from the band
>Even as everypony has taken a partner to the floor
>She’s been left on the side
>These ponies had the audacity to leave her out of her own party
>Some noble you didn’t care to remember the name of, even had the balls to ask Luna to dance, right in front of Celestia
>You wish a ‘stately raven’ would come in and tell you that you’d come back to this bloody event ‘nevermore’
>But, that would be a lie
>You’d come back every day, if they’d have you
>For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Celestia-
>”For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore”
>God, if you love me, please tell me I wasn’t speaking aloud
>Also, please tell me she didn’t see me spit back up my drink in shock
>”That was such a beautiful poem Anon” Even the way she carefully enunciates each syllable of the word ‘beautiful’ was enchanting
>Breathing deep you steady yourself and turn to her
>Just as you’re about to respond, her ivory fur and feathers overtakes your view and leaves you breathless
>Fuck, another drink
>Another kick in the back of the throat, telling you to man up
“Thank you Celestia, you don’t know how much your praise means” Great, now you were sounding like one of her boot-lickers
>”Oh-ho, and why would that be?” Was that a playful ‘oh-ho’ you just heard from a millenia old sun princess or were you having a stroke “I don’t think my praise should mean any more than my subjects’”
>Oh how you desperately wanted to just say to her face that she was laughably wrong
>But that wasn’t how you needed to play this
>Keep calm
“I respectfully disagree” You hold up a hand before she can interject “I agree that, on most subjects, your opinion would be no more valid than theirs” 
>Even if you don’t think it, she sees her ponies as equal, so you should too
“But in the craft of ‘the arts’ I believe your word would hold precedence over others” Her eyes narrow, but her lip turns up slightly
>She carefully floats a drink to her lips, and slowly drains the glass
>Her glass tips to you, a silent invitation to continue
>Time to bring it home
“I mean, how many artists have tried to capture you? The world around you? The history that you’ve lived through?” You nudge her slightly and she chuckles
>The kind of soft, gentle chuckle that you could fall asleep too
>The kind of chuckle you’d cherish if it were yours
“How many of the works of the artists that have gone and are here now, have you praised as ‘beautiful’?” Her smirks turns into a triumphant grin, but you’re not finished
>You hold a finger to her lips and lower your voice
”And meant it?”
>Her face drops at your words, and you feel like you’ve just stabbed yourself
>You kind of would prefer that right now to seeing her sad
>Slowly, you bring a hand up to her, and gently rest it on her neck
>Entering uncharted waters, need to be careful
“I think i get it though” You pick your tone up a little, in the hopes she’ll respond, in any way
>You let out a sigh when she turns her still down head in your direction
“I’ve seen how they look at you-” Of course, it’s the same way you imagine that you look at her “-and I’ve seen how you look at them, they’re like children to you, so you never want them to think they’re not good enough by telling them to improve”
>She’s now fully raised her head again, and is analysing you with a look you can’t define
“But they’re not worried about not being good enough, they’re worried about not being good enough for you” You begrudgingly release your hand from her face now “That’s why your words meant so much. I felt them”
>She’s regarding you with a silence that deafens the band
>You just put a LOT out there, so you keep a neutral face, you believed every word of what you said, so you’ll keep a strong demeanor, and wait out her silence
>Sadly, being silent makes you thirsty
>With as much poise as you have left, you slowly break your gaze from hers and turn to get more of the drink that, quite frankly, is the only reason you haven’t put a you-sized hole in the nearest wall
>”I felt yours too” Her words break the silence, but thankfully your composure remains and you don’t spit up your drink
“Oh?” This time, it’s your turn to be curious
>”That poem- it- I…” You can’t believe you’re actually seeing this
>Celestia
>Speechless
>Thank you Edgar Allen Poe
>You might have been a weird, weird fucker but you make damn good poetry
>”I could… feel it, every word; the man, his sorrow, the raven… Lenore” She speaks the name the same way you wish you could say hers
>”Who was she do you think?” You hum questioningly over your drink “The poem would indicate a lover but-”
“I always thought old Edgar intended you to take Lenore, to mean whatever relationship was closest to you, or rather, the relationship that meant the most to you” Celestia has now questioningly hummed back at you over her second- no, fourth drink
>Was she trying to catch up to you or something
>Doesn’t matter
>Not important right now
“Perhaps he meant Lenore to reflect the reader’s mother, grandmother, sister or even friend” Celestia’s eyes have gently become half-lidded as she regards you with her attention
>It almost makes you clam up
>But you’re pretty sure your blood is more alcohol than blood at this point so you push through her stare
“We’ve all felt loss… it kills a little piece of you, and takes it with the body you bury, the body you cry over. The Raven is a macabre poem in that sense. Essentially telling us that what was, can never be again”
>Jeez, you were trying to sound philosophical, not depressed
>But you couldn’t stop the words
>It’s like her eyes pulled them out of you
>Like the very act of trying to cover up would cause some wound to take you
>You see a sparkle begin to dance in her eyes as she goes to speak
>”Princess Celestia!”
>Only to be interrupted
>By the purple purveyor of posh pony parties herself, Twilight Sparkle
>”Twilight Sparkle! It’s wonderful to see you” You can’t help but wince as Celestia’s eyes light up with joy just at her student’s voice
>You quickly drown your envy in more liquor
As the glass leaves your lips you greet your new guest “‘Sup Twiggles?”
>And immediately smirk at the looks you get
>Twilight flashes between indignant anger and embarrassment
>You’ve gotten good at translating facial expression into english- ponish, whatever
>She’s currently saying “Seriously? Seriously!? In front of Celestia?”
Your returned smirk says “Why yes, in front of Celestia, how did you know?”
>You’re surprised to see Celestia fighting back the snickers that escape her nose
>That earns a raised brow from you, and a utterly shocked look from Twilight
>”I- I’m sorry Twilight but… Twiggles?” Celestia has to stop herself from bursting with laughter
>However, the shake of her head causes some liquid to spill, alerting you and Twilight to the cause of her behaviour
>You look to the bowl and find it half empty
>Oh fuck, were you boring her THAT much
>”Celestia are you… drunk?” Celestia responds to Twilight by shaking her head and coughing slightly
>Oh yeah, drunk and in denial
>But she’s holding it like a pro
>”Celestia… Anon, what nickname would you make from that?” The sun princess sloppily turns to you with a doe-eyed, half-grin
>You’re caught slightly off-guard by that
>You also see Twilight, making motions across her neck with both wings and forehooves
>Oh alright Twiggles, I won’t nickname your boss
>In front of you
“But Celestia, Twiggles is such a nuanced nickname” Twilight slams her face into one of her hooves at your comment
>Celestia meanwhile nods at you with a face you can only describe as “child trying to understand taxes”
“It was built over years of knowing her, I couldn’t do someone like you the disservice of nicknaming you with nothing to go on” Celestia seems to sober up significantly for a moment, before downing the rest of her drink and nodding at you
>”That makes sense. I would like to speak to you again, if time permits, but…” Celestia slowly lets one of her wings glide out to indicate towards Twilight
>You simply nod in response
>She takes that as her cue and turns to Twilight and begins trotting away
“Don’t keep her up too long Twiggles, she has court tomorrow” 
>Twilight shoots you one last glare that screams “Shut! Up!”
>You simply laugh to yourself and take another drink
>If time permits
>Fancy speak for no
>Yep
>You flubbed it
>Looking to the half-empty bowl of booze your mind gets an idea
>A wonderfully, stupidly, drunk idea
>If you flubbed it
>Why not just go all out and fuck up entirely
>Liver, I’m sorry old friend
>Fuck you too, buddy
>With that last comment from your organ you begin refilling and emptying your glass quicker than you ever have before
<>
>What is wrong with you
>You were having a great time talking with him
>He was giving you insights you hadn’t heard in centuries
>None of the nobles were so open with you
>But then he started talking about familial relations and losing them
>The way his eyes shifted
>It was like a wounded animal, desperate to hide away in a dark corner
>He spoke from experience
>Your only real memories were of Starswirl and Luna
>You were going to ask him if losing a figure that was like a second father, or losing a sister that was returned to you could be used in the context of “Lenore”
>Then that would have hopefully opened up pathways to more discussions
>But you didn’t talk
>At all
>He talked
>And your nerves got the best of you and you began emptying the bowl
>You don’t want to imagine what he thinks of the “refined princess Celestia” after he saw her get, to use the vernacular of the common pony “sloshed”
>At least that same drink is stopping you from feeling bad about it right now
>What really pains you though was when you asked for a nickname
>Starswirl always used to say you were just a filly playing grown-up
>You guess he was right
>Then Anon said about how he had nothing to go on for you
>Of course he didn’t
>You’ve basically ignored him since he got here
>Luna’s been able to spend time with him in his dreams
>The disgusting speck you call envy slowly rears its ugly head
>You go to drown it, but then remember that your cup was empty
>Sadly with Anon still stood there and Twilight taking you through the Gala, you can’t get a refill
>At least the servants are carrying drinks through the crowd
>It’s much lighter than you’d need to feel it, but at least it’ll stop your throat from being so dry
>You call on your magic and hover three glasses over to you
>They’re down you quicker than lightning and you return them to the tray
>With a small bow you thank the serving pony and continue on with Twilight
>She’s giving you a weird look
>But then again, you can’t really blame her
>You don’t exactly advertise this side of yourself anymore
>How you wish you could though
>Back when you and Luna ruled over the Everfree it wasn’t uncommon at parties for nobles to try and test their might by trying to drink one or both of you under the table
>None of them ever got close, it was more for you and Luna’s entertainment really
>Oh well, Twilight’s probably gonna get drunk enough to forget she ever saw you drunk to begin with anyway
>Speaking of drunk
>Anon seems to be the only one other than you who’s partaken
>The thought of him makes you turn your head back
>He hasn’t moved
>Was he going to stay there the entire night
>He came in, hugged his friends, greeted the returning nobles, and then went to the table
>But he hasn’t moved an inch since
>He’s simply nursing another glass, and several of the treats
>Well, at least you won’t be enjoying them alone
>Though you do see a few of your ponies narrowing their eyes at him
>It isn’t even your table, they all just insist it is
>Like there’s an unspoken rule that a pony should go hungry instead of take from that specific table
>Oh, he’s already nursing another drink
>It’s gone and then there’s another
>Maybe you should stop him
>You know how good this particular liqueur tastes
>You also know just how damaging it can be to the liver of the uninitiated
>Before you can turn around, Twilight introduces one of the ‘honoured guests’ of the night
>A noble of Griffonstone
>Oh, goody
>Looks like you’re not actually going to get a break from being a princess tonight after all
>He’s prattling on about something to do with land that he doesn’t know anything about
>Because his fellows haven’t bothered to keep political or historical documents in decades
>Then something about bits
>Didn’t happen the last twenty times he asked
>Not happening this time either
>Just because it’s a Gala doesn’t mean you’re gonna be in a suddenly generous mood
>Pfft, ‘noble’
>From that slag heap they still called a capital
>WHOA
>Bad thoughts get locked in the thought box in the back of your mind
>Thank you booze, you’re actually making this tolerable
>As you breathe out you see his beak twitch a little
>Oh
>It’s on your breathe
>Actually, it’s kind of funny
>Every breath you take makes his beak twitch
>Two quick, small puffs
>Two quick, small twitches
>One long exhale
>One long scrunched up face
>Damn it Celestia, focus
>Or better yet, somepony get you out of this mess
>”CELESTIA!” The words are joined by a pair of hands suddenly squeezing your sides
>You nearly take to the air with how high you jump, and the elderly griffon isn’t much better
>Turning on a bit, you look to find the perpetrator and find Anonymous
>Laughing like a hyena, completely doubled over and clutching his sides like they’re about to burst off
>His laughter is a little infectious and you join in a little
>The look on that old bird’s face is priceless
>You’d like to join him and double over yourself
>But you keep it contained to a light-hearted chuckle
>Gotta keep up appearances
>Even when drunk
“Hello Anonymous, are you enjoying yourself?” You simply get a stifled chuckle in response
>Slowly he recomposes himself and straightens up
>Only to point at you and double over again
>”This is the best party I’ve ever been to” He barely gets the word out through his laughter
>He ought to make this more interesting
>Slowly, you wrap a wing around him
>He briefly goes stiff but loosens up and relaxes into your feathers
You guide him to your side and point your other wing to the griffon in front of you “Anonymous, this is-”
>“Hello! My name is Anonymous!” Quickly stepping forward, Anon grabs one of the griffon’s talons in both hands and shakes it vigorously “And, You! Are a VERY large bird!”
>You have to cover your face with a wing to hide the fact you’re desperately fighting back your laughter
>Twilight has gone stock stiff, her jaw on the floor
>”Oh! Hey, buddy, you gotta try this stuff, it’s de-licious” The griffon is stood, stuttering as his eyes dart between you and Anon
>You tower over basically anything that isn’t on two-legs, and Anon is at eye-level with you
>Having just you imposing over him is one thing
>Having an alien, just as tall as you, drunk out of their skull and offering him a drink though
>Whole different level you imagine
>You realise that the griffon’s been staring at you for a few second
“Oh, yes, it really is an excellent liqueur, chosen by myself actually” Clearly not the answer he wanted
>With a forced smile, he hesitantly takes the drink from Anon’s hand, and languidly brings it to his beak
>As soon as it crosses onto his tongue he pulls it back and fights back a gag
>He tries to sputter out some explanation about how he can taste it, when most of what he put in his beak is now on your shoes
>”Oh, quit belly-aching” Again, you have to desperately stifle your laughter “Me and Celly have been chugging this stuff, you don’t hear us whining”
>Now the griffon’s beak is on the floor, and Luna’s has come over to check the commotion
>She looks between Twilight and the griffon, then Anon, and finally you
>Of course, she immediately knows you’re drunk and smirks
>You’re not gonna hear the end of this for a few months, are you
>Totally worth it
>Just as the griffon begins to regain his composure and talk to Anon, brass horns blare through the hall and begin playing a melody
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKQ55M61ssk
>Anon’s legs nearly gives way at the tune, and he uses you to stabilise himself
>His head darts back and forth, he rubs his ears and checks his fingers
>Quickly, you wrap your wings around him
>You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but the biggest grin he’s had all night comes on his face
>”The last time I heard this song was back home” You’re shocked into silence at his words
>It’s not impossible that your ponies might have accidentally created a replica melody of a song from his home
>But it’s just so improbable
>Before you can get a word in he looks to you and conflict rages behind his eyes
>Gritting his teeth, he turns his head up, and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp
>Shoving the glass towards the griffon he grabs you by the sides and turns you to face him
>”Celestia, do you want to dance?” A trepid smile graces his lips
>Your face reflects his
>How long has it been since someone asked you that
>Out of your peripherals, you can see both the griffon and Twilight about to object
But you silence them “I love to dance”
>His face breaks out into another huge smile and he begins escorting you to the dance floor
>”Don’t worry Twilight, I’ll bring her back in one piece” He then leans down to your ears and whispers a word just for you “Mostly”
>It sends a tingle down your spine
>Wait a minute
>You haven’t danced in a millenia, you don’t remember how
>You’re gonna make a fool of yourself and him
>You need more of that drink
>The bowl’s empty
>Did he drain it all
>Before your mind can wander, his hand rests on your chin and pulls your gaze back to him
>Oh, you forgot what it was like to have someone look at you like that
>It’s like he said, your ponies were like your children
>Seeing any of them, even the fully mature or older ones in any other way just felt wrong
>The other races were fine, sure, from a subjective standpoint
>But this alien was entirely new
>Tall and muscular like the mino, yet also willowy and lean
>You’re about to thank him for saving you, but he’s not focused on you
>His eyes are turned up just a little, glazed over slightly, like he’s somewhere only he can go
>His lips mouth words in perfect sync with the rise and fall of the trumpets and trombone
>You don’t know how, but you think he was telling the truth
>This really is a song he only knew from his world
>But you’d never heard this composition once in your life
>The initial opening ends and the trombone takes the centre of the quintet
>”Never thought that you would be” The notes drip through the air, as thick and delicious as the liqueur, and he harmonises with them as his eyes finally come back to you “Standing here so close to me”
>You’re both gently rocking back and forth, his hands gently at the sides of your chest “There’s so much I feel that I should say” Slowly, his hands creep down your back, and go under your wings “But words can wait, until some other day”
>You’re chest to chest, and face to face with him now, his cool breath washes over your face and down your neck
>You loved the smell of that liqueur
>”So kiss me once-” That causes your heart to stop briefly “then kiss me twice” He’s not broken his gaze “Then kiss me once again” Slowly he leans his head down
>But rests his cheek against yours “It’s been a long, long time”
>”Haven’t felt like this, my dear” His voice is low, you’re sure only you can hear it
>An entirely new melody being played, and you’re one of only two who know the words to perfectly match the notes
>”Since can’t remember when, it’s been a long, long time” Weak and weary again, like before
>The weight of his words, of some exhaustion he had in him comes flowing out with the words and you start to feel the weight
>You don’t want the weight, so you put more into your movements, and the weight glides off your back
>He follows your lead, and keeps in stride with you as you both glide across the dance floor
>You don’t know how your ponies are reacting, and you don’t care
>They’re not getting in the way of the one dance you’ve had in millenia, and the band hasn’t stopped, that’s all that’s important to you right now
>You want him to tell you the rest of what this song means to him
>What it should mean to you
>”You’ll never know how many dreams I’ve dreamed about you” His words are right in your ears
>He’s definitely not singing for you, but to you
>”Or just how empty they all seemed without you” Slowly, you pull your cheek back, and he turns to meet your gaze again
>One of his hands pulls out from your wing and cups your cheek, while the other lightly scratches your side just right
>You purr at the physical attention, and the words
>”So kiss me once” He’s getting closer again “Then kiss me twice” His nose is an inch from yours “Then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time”
>He stops singing, and you want to tell him to keep going
>If he stops, the song ends
>You don’t want that, you want to catch up on a thousand years of dancing, and never stop
>But the song is ending, you can tell, the band has picked up the tempo for the final blare of their horns
>And he hasn’t moved an inch
>His eyes are burning into yours, silently asking a question you don’t have the answer for
>Or at least, you don’t think you do
>The horns pick up, it’s now or never
>Whatever “it” is
>You twitch towards him and he does the same
>The final blare rings out, and you take the plunge
>Your lips clash
>Then
>Nothing
>You were told it’d be like fireworks
>But there are none
>There’s no anything, just a void
>Your ponies are gone, the party is gone, the band is gone
>But the music lives on
>As do you and Anonymous
>The only two in this endless nothing
>Drifting through darkness and music
>His lips press against you with a silent hunger
>Each time they shift, it’s like he’s feeding the words of the song to you
>It’s wonderful
>Your eyes are shut tight
>If you open them, the void goes away
>You return to the party, to being ‘Princess’ Celestia
>Why can’t you just be Celestia
>Why can’t you just dance with him for a thousand years to this song, over and over
>It’s beautiful
>But sadly, you both need to breathe
>So you do pull away
>Your eyes remain shut though
>Until you feel both his hands cupping your cheeks
>In his drunken state, his clothes have become a bit ruffled and he’s constantly tilting back and forth
>The wings you’ve wrapped around him are seemingly all that’s stopping him from collapsing
>You don’t even remember pulling him this close
>But you like it
>You don’t know what reaction you’ve gotten from the Gala
>Honestly, it’s the furthest thing from your mind right now
“Anonymous” Even in his drunken state, he smiles when you say his name “Would you like to drink some chat and tea?” That was probably broken, but who cares, you’re drunk
>”I’d love that” His smile is gentle and warm
>Wrapping a wing around him, you and he slowly make your way to one of the doors that leads out to the gardens
”Kiss me once” You slowly repeat the words as you approach the doors “Then kiss me twice” Anon wraps his arm around your neck and rests his cheek on yours again
>”Then kiss me once again”
>The cool night air chills you and him enough to sober up slightly
>He nestles closer into your wing, and you, into his torso
“It’s been a long, long time”
>”It’s been a long, long time”