Celestia's Therapy Session (Short Story)


                                            Premise: Celestia is experiencing psychosis episodes with some anxiety attacks sprinkled in. Twilight needed to find someone who could help her out emotionally, as most therapists throughout Ponyville and even Canterlot weren't willing to take a queen into a session. You, Anonymous, will help Celesita in a therapy session to the best of your will.


                                            Inspiration: A video by Halo12. The video is different that what this greentext is about. The first frame of the video is what inspired this story. Dark room, blank gray wall that sort of reminds me of an insane asylum.

                                            Video link: https://youtu.be/NQlf4LmAni4?si=wVL5bTkJdgeUco9n


                                            >The room is dark, save for a hanging lightbulb.

                                            >Celestia is cold, her mane dormant. Her blood is frozen, mind in peril.

                                            >She stares at the opposite side of the hollow and sad room of gray.

                                            >Nightmare Moon. She knows what she's seeing isn't real. But the apparition of her blue form still taunts the white-coated princess.

                                            >The door to Celestia's right opens.

                                            >And that's where you come in.


                                            >You are Anonymous. Personally appointed by Twilight Sparkle as Celestia's personal therapist.

                                            >Quite the unusual proposition, given that you've done no psychology related work prior in the land of ponies.

                                            >But Twilight, and on accord from a multitude of other ponies' testimonies, you were emotionally viable enough to help her out.

                                            >You set down the large plant you were carrying, shifting its potted stance to the left of the room.

                                            >After, you sit down in the metal chair at Celestia's table, opposite of her.

                                            >You place a small phone on the table, and then do a quick stretch.

                                            >The door closes with a loud latch

                                            "There should be more color in here. You would think that therapist places would know life for the eyes is good. That's what the plant is for by the way. I notice your eyes wandering to it."

                                            >Celestia's gaze strikes your green faced figure. Her empty eyes scream for comfort, and also tell a tale of mental turmoil.

                                            >You press a button on the phone, and some randomly assorted piano music plays, courtesy of Octavia Melody.

                                            "Maybe some sound will help occupy your ears. Make the atmosphere less... tense."

                                            >Celestia's eyes gradually narrow. Not in the "I'm judging you" way, but out of "I feel less discomfort."

                                            >But just not a moment later, Nightmare's figure shifts instantly to overshadow Anon's body.

                                            >Only in her mind though, you wouldn't notice it like she did.

                                            >The blood, if there was any left, promptly drains out of Celestia's face and her eyes widen again in fear.

                                            "Celestia. Focus on my hands."

                                            >You put your hands on the table, one each on separate sides of the phone.

                                            >The princess shifts her eyes back and forth from your hands to the light above you.

                                            >You already know what you're dealing with, so you try to choose your words carefully.

                                            >You turn the volume up a bit.

                                            "Celestia, I know you feel trapped right now, but I'm here. I'm with you. In this room."

                                            >"Anon. She's right there."

                                            >Her eyes begin fogging up with threatening tears. Hopelessness grasps her heart, aching at her to cower in fear.

                                            "If she wanted to hurt you, she would have already. Don't allow your thoughts to scare you into submission."

                                            "I believe in you, Celly."

                                            >The sudden nickname is enough to bring Celestia's eyes to your head.

                                            >Success, you have her attention.

                                            >You tap your finger on the table, drawing her vision to the source of the sound.

                                            >Yes! One step at a time.

                                            >Alright, if the articles ever taught you anything, it's that breathing helps anxiety.

                                            >The piano notes begin to slow down, helping to pace the vibe.

                                            "Celestia, for every finger I have, I want you to breathe in and out for every one you count."

                                            >She takes a deep breath and focuses on your hands.

                                            >It's not the multiple breaths you were looking for, but its progress nonetheless.

                                            >She seems even more drained. Why though?

                                            "Good job. Now keep looking, and listen."

                                            >...

                                            >"It shouldn't be this hard for me."

                                            >You raise an eyebrow.

                                            >"Why does her image haunt me? Why do I believe in it..."

                                            >She sounds like she's about to cry.

                                            >Alright, tackle the first statement.

                                            "It's ok if its hard for you. Everypony has their own brand of a stressful situation. Your's doesn't make you any less."

                                            "And, It's ok to struggle. What matters is that you try. Now, keep focusing on my hands."

                                            >Celestia shifts in her chair.

                                            >"I'm trying. I'm scared."

                                            >One tear flows out of both her eyes each.

                                            >She is trying, and it makes you happy to see her putting a hoof forward to making this work.

                                            "I'm proud of you Celestia. You know, I'm grateful you even decided to come."

                                            "You chose to try. To choose combating your fears. The first step to bravery is confronting. And you did just that."

                                            Celestia looks up again, prompting you to open your mouth but she interrupts.

                                            >"She's fading. Her mane isn't flowing anymore."

                                            >The princess's eyes open a bit in realization: She's just imagining it.

                                            >She adjusts her stance, chest puffing out.

                                            >She stares at the ceiling light with another deep breath.

                                            >Nightmare Moon's blue aura dissipates from Celestia's imagination.

                                            >You could feel something change in the room. Is it warmer? Did the air get thicker?

                                            >Those things don't matter. What does is that Celestia seems more confident now. And that is a massive W.

                                            "How do you feel now? I notice your face is calmer."

                                            >Celestia adopts a more rigid tone, mocking a short sense of confidence.

                                            >"I feel better. She is not real, she is not real. My sister is okay, and I am imagining it."

                                            >She says that more to herself rather than to you. If it helps her cope, that is perfectly fine.

                                            "That's right, and you're making better progress. Saying this alone tells me you understand."

                                            >She focuses her gaze on you, most of her anxiety melting away in the comfort of your presence.

                                            "I'm proud of you."

                                            "You are not weak for being scared."

                                            >...

                                            >"Thank you, Anonymous. For giving me a chance."

                                            >Celestia puts out a slightly trembling hoof to you, and you take it.

                                            >You caress it, easing her even more.

                                            "You're welcome. It's going to be ok, one day at a time," you say with a nod.

                                            >The piano plays a couple notes in affirmation.