Princess Celestia had a drinking problem she wakes
Princess Celestia had a drinking problem she wakes up un a destroyed throne room with alcohol everywhere and Applejack dead she killed her Equestria is destroyed because of her its all her fault she is not fit to be a alicorn
The first thing Celestia noticed was the smell. Not the sweet, floral scent of a thousand blooming blossoms, but the acrid, metallic tang of blood mixed with the bitter, sickly sweetness of aged wine. The throne room, once a beacon of majestic splendor, was now a testament to her shame. Splintered wood, chipped marble, and shards of glass littered the floor, reflecting the pale, flickering light of the sunrise.
Her head throbbed. It wasn’t a simple hangover, but a raging fire in her skull, a burning reminder of her sins. Memories, fragmented and blurry, flooded her mind. Applejack, her loyal friend, her unwavering supporter, sprawled on the floor, unmoving, her crimson coat stained with the blood that had spilled from her flank.
“It was all my fault,” Celestia whispered, her voice rough and dry. The words, a cold, heavy weight, settled in her stomach.
Celestia remembered the party. The celebratory feast, the lavish spread, the cheers and laughter. The potent wine, so smooth, so tempting, had flowed freely. She had indulged, lost in the oblivion it offered.
Then, the anger. The rage that had simmered for years, fueled by the weight of her crown, the burden of responsibility, had erupted. The whispers, the doubts, the criticisms – all had coalesced into a monstrous wave that crashed over her, leaving behind a trail of destruction.
Applejack had stood in her way, as she always did, a shield against the storm. But the storm had been too strong. The memory of her friend’s eyes, filled with hurt and betrayal, burned like a branding iron on her soul.
The destruction was undeniable. Her magical aura, usually a beacon of warmth and light, now pulsed with a dark, chaotic energy. Equestria, the land she was meant to protect, lay in ruins. The once vibrant cities were now smoldering shells, their inhabitants scattered and broken.
The guilt was a suffocating blanket, heavy and inescapable. Her once-powerful magic now felt weak, tainted by the darkness she had unleashed. Her wings, symbols of her power, felt heavy, like leaden weights.
“I am not fit to be an Alicorn,” she whispered, the words choked with despair.
A single tear, shimmering like a broken shard of moonlight, traced a path down her cheek.
Celestia knew she had failed. Not only her friends, not only her kingdom, but herself. She had let the darkness consume her, and in doing so, she had extinguished the light within her.
With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched Applejack’s lifeless flank, a silent apology whispered on the wind.
The dawn, a cruel mockery of her ruined world, painted the sky with the colors of hope. Hope that Celestia knew she could no longer offer. She was not the princess of light, but the harbinger of darkness, a fallen star plummeting towards oblivion.
