Chapter Text
The curtain rises.
~~~~~
The stars cross, and tragedy is woven.
A castle made of galaxies and glitter, dreams and daytime, skies and starlight. Its spires twirl up high into the heavenly firmament that twinkles above, grazing the night with the gentlest of touches. The walls loom large and curved above a moat of milky way, equally inviting and dissuading to any who’d pass by. Its balustrades and overhangs gleam in all the colors of the cosmos, draped over with the blues of comet tails and the deep orange of red giants. From here all the universe appears encapsulated within a single jewel; an opal of infinitely more colors than the most resplendent rainbow.
It’s as grand a sight as any could ever see. The zenith of all the world. And from its apex stands a princess of eyes as magenta as the nebulae and hair as golden as the sun, the brightest sun any had ever laid eyes upon.
The Princess of the Stars, Estelle.
From her perch, Estelle’s smile illuminates all the billions of suns sprinkled all throughout the universe, from the smallest dwarves to the largest supergiants. Every day she rises to the top of the sky and lights the azure for all to see, and every night she sinks to let her vassals twinkle on with their borrowed glows. And lo, to behold her in person! A luminescent being who glitters with every footstep; shimmers with every movement; dazzles with every utterance. Her locks, like silken sunshine that refract the lights of the ether in every hue… her pinkened lips, filled with the most bountiful laughs… her eyes, fine-cut rubies that sparkle with a knowing worldliness… a truly effulgent being, drawing all gazes towards her and her alone: a blazing presence that illuminates all within her periphery with sheer brilliance.
And yet, unbeknownst to all the trillions of souls that admire her, such brilliance is not her own. For behind her smile that lights all of existence lies a lonesome spirit, locked in her keep with nary a companion to confide in, a girl who smiles out of duty rather than sincerity. When night comes and she retreats into her castle alone, she does little but wander about with morose gaits, staring above at the stars that still gleam with her brightness. But she cannot ever abscond: for if she did, all the lights in the universe would snuff out, leaving behind a night as black as pitch.
So she stalks the halls quietly, from the crystalline gardens to the winding spires, beholding all the birds and squirrels and hares that accompany her with mournful sighs, looking out into the ebon infinity and wondering if she would ever know another soul.
So she continues. Day after day, week after week, month after month…
Until the day when, strolling about her gardens, she comes across a most curious creature, asleep in the rosebushes: a girl, not dissimilar from herself. Only this napping one doesn’t shimmer and shine with an unfathomable brilliance… rather, she is a meek being, small of frame and short of stature, with hair the violet of a distant galaxy that splays all across her tiny face. It’s such an adorable sight that, unconsciously, Estelle begins laughing, stirring the little princess awake.
Wh-Where am I?
Estelle smiles. Don’t be afraid. You simply ended up in my garden.
The other princess quivers with nervousness. I-I’m so sorry! I was looking for the Princess of the Stars, and somehow I must have ended up here…
Estelle considers telling her who she was, but holds off for a moment – after all, how often did she get to hold conversations with someone else? What is your name, little one?
The other princess stands and straightens up. I am Celeste. Do you know where I can find the Princess?
I do not. I am just a simple handmaid by the name of Estelle. Do you want me to show you the way out?
Perhaps in a little while. Celeste looks all about the garden, at the diamond daffodils and crystal chrysanthemums and amethyst amaryllises, captivated equally by each. I’ve never seen a place like this… do you live here?
Yes. All by myself.
All alone? Then whose handmaid are you?
All the world’s.
All the…? I don’t understand.
You need not to. Estelle stifles a giggle. How about you? Where do you live?
Outside, in a little burg of a solar system not far from here.
By yourself? You seem such a timid thing.
Celeste grows flush. It’s true… I hardly have an ounce of courage within me. But I hoped that if I got to see the Princess, then I might be inspired by her brilliance.
Estelle knew such types before – those who would prostrate before her appearances on the balcony in search of a muse. Perhaps it’s time to tell the truth. Very well. I can show you to where the Princess is.
H-Hold on a moment. What about you? Are you to remain here all alone?
Estelle is taken back by such a question. Don’t you care more about your Princess?
P-Perhaps… but… Celeste’s gaze, the red of an eclipsed moon, bore into her own. I can hardly abandon you when your eyes look so lonely.
Estelle’s heart swells with an unusual feeling: one that she cannot name, because she’s never known it before. Then… would you like to talk for a while?
Celeste smiles – it is not resplendent or dazzling or world-brightening, but it strikes Estelle all the same. Please!
And so the two stroll through the gardens and chatter away, the knowledge of Estelle’s identity kept firmly under wraps. They speak of the birds and beasts that roam the lawn, the blossoms that dot the overhangs, and all the millions of stars that flicker in the night above. They talk on, and on, and on, until the predawn comes, and Estelle realizes that she must prepare to return to her position. She shows Celeste to the rear wall and bid farewell, expecting to treasure this sole memory for as long as she lived… until…
I’ll come again.
Estelle’s head swerves around, her eyes wide in disbelief. You will?
Celeste nods earnestly. When night comes again… we’ll meet and speak more.
A laugh. I look forward to it.
And as Celeste grins and disappears over the garden wall, Estelle realizes that she’s grinning, too. Not out of duty, but sincerity.
True to Celeste’s promise, she comes every night to speak with her.
Estelle learns many things about the girl. For one, she’s hardly a bright one – she at one point attempted to pluck a rose from the garden, only to cut her hand on the thorns. She isn’t very resilient, either – she began sobbing profusely upon seeing her finger sliced open, taking five minutes to calm herself. And yet, she bears a sentimentality and sweetness that is unmatched – because she wanted to pick the rose for Estelle’s sake. And such pure intentions make Estelle’s heart blossom.
Yet as each night passes by, and Celeste bids farewell so that Estelle can return to her perch, she fears that her secret will slip, and that Celeste will learn of her identity and worship her just as everyone else does. So she keeps it tight to herself, locked away in her heart, afraid to speak of the Princess of the Stars in conversation lest Celeste’s interest grow.
And yet, the truth cannot remain hidden forever.
One dawn, out of sheer curiosity, Celeste hops back over Estelle’s wall, wondering how the girl occupies herself in the daytime. So she tiptoes quietly, following Estelle to the parapet, until she witnesses it for herself: that magnificent brilliance, so radiant that she feels her retinas scorch at the sight. Instinctively she attempts to flee, but it’s too late – Estelle hears her footsteps, and her heart sinks as she watches her dear friend run from her, unable to give chase.
She expects no visitation that night. But Celeste shows up at the same time as ever. Estelle sits quietly in the middle of the garden, her fingers dangling the stars above her.
…Why did you come? Don’t you know who I am?
Celeste approaches, her eyes downcast.
Or is that why you’re here? Estelle cranes her neck. To pay respects? To marvel at my brilliance?
Celeste shakes her head. I-It’s not that.
Then what?
…There’s that look again.
Her chest clutches.
That… That loneliness.
Estelle can’t bear to look at her. She curls up her legs and hugs her knees, unspeaking.
And then, Celeste mumbles…
…I-I’m lonely, too.
The stars above glow, the thread connecting them wrapped around all of Estelle’s fingers in butterfly loops.
But… t-talking to you, I feel like… I have a friend.
Starry rain hits the garden floor.
Did you… think of me as a fr-friend, too?
Estelle is barely able to choke out her response:
Of course I do. You’re… the first friend I’ve ever had.
The rain continues. And yet, their smiles reflect the deep blue above, each glimmering with its own genuine shine.
E-Est…*hic*
Celes…
They exchange no more words.
They simply embrace.
From that day forward, Estelle tells Celeste everything.
The struggles of her obligation. The daily pains of bearing the universe’s light. The listless helplessness she feels from knowing that hers is a position she can never escape. And Celeste listens, the only one who can comfort her.
And when she does, she says the last remarks Estelle expected.
You’re incredible, Est. I could never be as strong as that…
A weak chuckle. I don’t know if it’s strength. I think it’s lack of it, actually… if I were really strong, I would figure out a way out of here.
No! To be able to light up the whole universe is… well… it’s incredible! I can’t even light up my own home.
A big belly laugh. I don’t think you need to worry about that, Celes.
St-Still!
Truly, being able to vent is comfort enough for Estelle. Even having someone to speak with is its own kind of relief. Those isolated days of not long ago already feel like distant memories, and she wants no part of them to return.
Est… does it hurt? To light up the world every day?
She considers the question. I don’t feel any sort of strain. It’s hardly debilitating.
But still… you must want to leave sometimes. It’s not fair for you to remain confined.
Perhaps. But if I don’t do my duty, the universe will darken, and then what will happen?
No response.
I appreciate your concern, Celes… but so long as this is my role, I’ll fulfill it. For the sake of everyone. Another smile, as sincere as she could manage. Okay?
Celeste is uncharacteristically silent as she leaves that morning.
She returns the next day bearing an expression Estelle had never seen from her before: determination.
…Est. I’ve made a decision.
She says it with such seriousness that it’s almost comical. But Estelle dares not laugh. What is it?
A hard swallow. I’m… I’m going to find a way to help you.
To… help me?
Yes. I’m… I may be weak, and small, and cowardly… but I want to be strong like you. That’s what I decided.
Celes…?
Her eyes pan away. I’m… I’m going on a journey. To get stronger. And when I return… I’ll get you out of here, so you can see the rest of the world with your own eyes.
Estelle’s mouth gapes at the words. Celeste – fair, meek Celeste – embarking on such a journey? It seems unthinkable. And yet she said it with such vigor.
Wait for me, Est. I swear… I-I’m going to set you free someday.
She wants to say that it’s not necessary. That all Celeste needs to do is remain by her side as a friend, and that they’ll be able to soldier any difficulty no matter how big or small. But at that glimmer of promise… the scantest chance of liberty… her soul swells with hope. Okay. Celes… I believe in you.
A shaky smile. I-I believe in you, too!
Their farewell that morning is twice as long, and thrice as bitter. But even so, they are able to see each other off fondly, comfortable in the knowledge that their trust is sincere, and that – come the time – they’ll be there for one another.
And so Celeste departs, seeking to become as strong as Estelle, who remains upon the apex of the universe each day, smiling on and on and on…
Yet when night comes, she is alone. Without another soul to lend her an ear, or stroke her shoulder, or provide even the smallest bit of solace.
Her heart aches with each passing evening, gushing with isolation and despair.
It becomes so great that she seeks to forget about it. She locks it under wall and wall of ice, casting every memory of her beloved Celeste deeper and deeper into the recesses of her soul.
So that before long, she no longer thinks of those blissful days in the garden, and only of her given task, smiling even as her heart becomes encased in ice.
Years pass. The universe turns. Stars burn out as others bloom in their place.
And Celeste grows into a fine young woman.
Any who knew her in her youth would be stunned by the stately presence before her – eyes sharp and bright, with a confident poise and an airy inflection, just as gallant as she was courteous. She had dispelled her previous bashfulness and replaced it with a cunning boldness, one so undaunted by danger that it borders on reckless. And for every bit of physical finesse and skill, her words grew ten times stronger, so that she now speaks with all the eloquence and dignity of one far beyond her years, paying respects to any good soul who crosses her path. Before long, she’s hailed by a new title: Prince of the Cosmos. As dashing as she is dazzling.
And so it is that, finally assured of herself, she returns to that castle where she spent so many days of her youth, ready to sweep Estelle off of her feet and carry her to far away places, where she could finally stretch her wings and be free. Even as she hops over the nostalgic garden wall and strides through the anciently familiar halls to the parapet, she feels a twinge of her old nervousness return. But it is no matter – she’s prepared her words for years now. She knows exactly what to say.
And so it is that she reaches the summit of all reality and beholds her Princess of the Stars, just as grown and wondrous as she is, and resists the urge to weep out of comfort. Alas, my dear love! How many moons have passed since our parting? How I have longed for this day to come, and at last it has! Oh, blessed be our fortunes!
Estelle turns, her effulgent smile as ironclad as ever. I’m sorry. Who are you?
Celeste isn’t daunted – it’s only natural, after such a severe transformation. Who am I but the swan coming home to its love? The moon reaching out towards the sun? The lonely little star that has flowered into a being of unimaginable luster? For my dear Estelle, it is I – Celeste, come to steal you away beyond the stars, to where you may finally roam free and unburdened.
With each statement she brings a gesture just as grand, and yet Estelle seems unaffected. Celeste? My apologies… you look nothing like her.
A chuckle. Surely you jest! Do you not recognize the tenor of my voice? The sprightliness in my being? The love and concern in my words?
Estelle shakes her head, still smiling. I feel none of Celeste’s qualities from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a duty to perform. She turns back to face the world, beaming wider.
Celeste wavers, if only for a moment. How long she had anticipated this moment? All those years, only to end up in a perilous misunderstanding? That would be a misfortune of the highest order… but she doesn’t lose hope. For she knows it’s daytime, and that Estelle presents her true self only when the stars come out. So Celeste bids a courteous farewell and resolves to wait until evening, bristling with anticipation all the while.
When she returns, she finds Estelle in the garden, near the same as she used to when they were young. Estelle! My deepest apologies for earlier – I didn’t mean to impose so suddenly; I was simply overcome with sentiment, and sought to satiate it as swiftly as possible.
Estelle stares at her, bearing the same firm grin as earlier. You again. You still claim to be Celeste?
Am I not? I can see you are the same Estelle – you bear the same golden hair, the same dainty cheeks, the same wondrous smile… am I truly so different?
A giggle – sharp, unkind. The Celeste I know is hardly so well-spoken and outgoing. Yes… she was a shrinking rose, she was.
Celeste stepped closer. Est… my dear… my–
Who gave you the right to call me that?
The words cut. The air cools. But the smile remains.
You’re awfully presumptuous, for a complete stranger.
Now, and only now, does Celeste’s spirit begin to diminish. I… I am only this way now because I was inspired to grow for your sake…
Bemusement. I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.
Celeste fights back her emotions. And yet, she rationalizes – and comes to a conclusion. …No matter. Whether you take me to be what I am or not, I will get you out of here regardless. Come.
She attempts to take Estelle’s hand. The princess knocks it away.
What in the world do you think you’re doing?
Strain. Taking you away. Come – I can light up the world in your place, or find a lovely dame to fill your role, or let all reality dim into the abyss for all I care. But I cannot bear to see that pain in your eyes any longer.
Laughter. High-pitched. Cold. You think I can leave? I have no idea who you are, but… you’re a fool.
I often think as such, but a fool is foolhardy, and I won’t leave until I see my dear Estelle granted the autonomy she rightly deserves.
Laughter. Headshake. Smile. Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am? The Princess of the Stars – the one whose radiance lights up the whole universe. I could never leave. Besides…
Her eyes crinkle.
…I like it here.
And then, Celeste realizes
that she does not recognize the woman before her.
This emotionless, perpetually cheerful machine is not the same Estelle that Celeste knew.
Just as her own florid, masterfully eloquent self is not the same Celeste that Estelle knew.
The grief of that realization is too much to bear. She flies, feeling her childhood frailty seep back into her being and leak out her eyelids.
And Estelle, too, begins to cry – for deep inside her heart, in a place that cannot reach her mind and words, she recognizes her beloved friend, and weeps even as she smiles on and on.
Their tears fall to the earth below as shooting stars, burning up into dust and dreams and memory, the last vestiges of what they’d had in their cherished youths…
…As they realize that they are well and truly alone in this world.
The stars cross, never to meet again.
~~~~~
The curtain falls.
The actors come out to take their bows. The audience stands to applaud with all their strength.
But one little girl, sitting in the very front row… simply cries, and cries, and cries.
Because upon the stage, she just saw her closest friend fall prey to an infinite loneliness.
Her parents attempt to console her, but the tears don’t stop. She nearly sprints out of the auditorium with eyes stained red, dashing down the hall until she falls into the arms of the one who made her sob.
“K-Kao-chan? What’s wrong?”
She blows her nose into her friend’s dress. “Ch-Chii-chan! You were so alone! I… I…”
A gentle laugh. “Kao-chan, it was just a play. I’m alright now. After all, you’re here with me, aren’t you?”
She raises her head and looks into the soft, weary eyes of the one others called Chisato Shirasagi. But to Kaoru Seta, she is simply… “Chii-chan… I… I…!”
“Shh, it’s okay…” Chisato pats her on the shoulder. “I’m right here, it’s o–”
“I-I would’ve stayed with you forever! I wouldn’t have run off and left you alone!”
The consoling slows. “Kao-chan…”
“Wh-Why did that play have to be so sad? Shouldn’t they have recognized each other?”
Chisato isn’t sure how to explain to Kaoru what a ‘tragedy’ entails. The poor girl’s heart is simply too fragile to understand the connotations of such a thing. But such earnestness makes Chisato smile. “Well, it’s complicated…”
“If I were there, I’d…” Kaoru swallows. “I-I wouldn’t have stopped until you recognized me!”
Chisato laughs. “I’m sure. That’s just the sort of person you are, isn’t it?”
Kaoru grips Chisato’s blouse tightly. “S-Someday, I’ll… I’ll…”
“Kao-chan?”
A tight swallow. “We’ll put on the play again… and I’ll be Celeste… and we’ll have a happy ending then!”
Chisato mouth grows agape for a moment, her eyes wide with disbelief. Behind her eyes one can see the gears churning as she processes what her closest friend has said. And eventually, she smiles – that distant, lightless, quiet smile.
“…Okay. It’s a promise.”