An Old Friend

by Almost Romantic

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 983

Princess Luna returns to an old haunt to mull over her thoughts of her absence...

Princess Luna returns to an old haunt to mull over her thoughts of her absence…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-02-10 20:10:07 UTC

The Visitor

A set of hooves alighted gracefully on the sunset-lit front steps of the ruined fortress; the first that the cracked, mossy stone had felt in centuries. Slowly, deliberately, the hooves made their way up to the double doors of the entrance. A hoof was raised, as if to knock, but then was set back down a second later.

Why knock? It was her castle, after all.

The mare walked through the threshold, pushing aside one of the doors open with a small surge of indigo magic, careful not to push it off of its ancient hinges. She paused for a moment, taking in the faded and worn carvings that decorated the dilapidated door: at first glance, a simple pattern of diamonds and triangles, but upon closer inspection, was actually a masterfully assembled mural, in raised relief, that depicted some ancient legend, forgotten and neglected by time. “Just like everything else about this place,” she whispered softly enough for it to be mistaken for a small zephyr of wind. A forlorn sigh escaped the mare’s lips before she could stop it.

She continued her slow walk into the fortress, her mind perfectly replacing every broken or missing tile, column, mural, and tapestry that lay strewn across the cracked floor. Here and there, a patch of grass had somehow made its way through the cracks in the tiled floor, adding their own splash of color to the once-bright tiles, dingy and muted by the progression of time. A wry, humorless smile tugged at the edges of the mare’s mouth. “Life finds a way,” she mused out loud without really knowing why, much louder than the last time that she had spoken.

Only tiny shards of the once-regal stained glass windows remained in their frames, stuck to the metal outline like razor-sharp leaves on a twig. A colorful smattering of glass rested on the floor underneath the broken windows. A column of stone had fallen through one of the windows, tearing even the metal skeleton of the window out.

Like a pianist cracking his joints before a concerto, the mare closed her eyes and spread her hooves, lighting up her horn in a magical blue aura that shed light into the dark corners of the dilapidated fortress. The aura began to spread outwards, engulfing the entire castle in a matter of seconds. From memory alone, the mare gathered the dust that coated the floor and reminded it of its purpose, making it fly back to the columns that they had originally belonged to. The broken pieces of ceiling flew back to their rightful place above her head instead of below her hooves and cemented themselves back onto their proper places on top of the walls. The columns nestled themselves up against the ceiling, holding it up as was their purpose. The stained glass flew back up into their frames, the cracks sealing with a sound like a nail being drawn over a sheet of ice. The cracked and, in some places, shattered tiles sealed and reseated themselves into the intricate patterns that they were lain in so many years ago.

It took much longer than the mare had thought, and nearly twice as much magic, but it was done: the mare opened her eyes and beheld the grandeur of her castle as it used to be. No longer did dust and rubble coat the beautiful tiled floor; instead, it shone with as much brilliance as it had for over a millennia prior, when earls and nobles and commoners alike strode across its length, eager to dance with whichever beautiful mare that had caught their eye that night.

The mare walked up to the newly-repaired raised platform that had, in some rare occasions, served as a makeshift throne platform. She walked to the exact middle by memory alone, sat down on her haunches, and cried.

... ...

"Sister, you were gone longer than normal today," a regal, controlled voice drifted to her from down the hall of the castle of the sun. Warm summer air and the soft din of the daily business on Canterlot's streets drifted in through the open window at each end of the hall.

The younger mare looked up from the floor tile that she had been scrutinizing. "Yes. I was... visiting an old friend," she said softly, scraping a hoof against the immaculate floor tile that had been subject to her gaze. She gave a small start when she felt a nuzzle on the back of her neck, causing a small, warm bloom of comfort to grow in her chest.

"I was worried about you," the sun princess said softly, lifting her sister's chin with a gentle touch of her hoof. "I thought you were hurt or got lost or..." she trailed off, choosing to bring her sister into a hug instead of talk.

"I'm fine. I was... I just needed some closure. I'm alright now." The princess of the night gave her sister a weak smile.

"You went to our castle, didn't you?" Celestia accused quietly after a few moments had passed.

Luna sighed, the comfort and warmth of her sister's embrace suddenly turning into a cold, hard cage from which there was no escaping. "Yes, I did. I restored it with that spell that you showed me all those years ago."

The elder sister tensed slightly. "Luna... that spell is temporary. If you restored our castle, then it has probably crumbled into dust by now."

Luna gave her sister a genuine smile. "I know. All things must come to an end, and those times are one of them. It simply won't do to dwell on memories and forget to live our lives in the present, living in our own personal purgatory."

The sun princess pondered her sister's words for a few moments. She drew her younger sister closer into her hug, and whispered, "I'm proud of you."