The Maestro and the Moon Queen
The Maestro and the Moon-Queen
Cliff ran along the packed corridor of Canterlot castle. The heat of the summer evening made him swelter, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. He knew she was around. A cacophony of shouts and clapping from total and absolute strangers heralded his ears as he had dashed out of the dining hall, the two heavy oak doors swinging shut behind him. There were a few onlookers out here, and they too applauded him as he dashed by. The young colt skidded around a corner and narrowly avoided a collision with a well-dressed butter-yellow Pegasus. The pianist didn’t even stop and bow, or curtsy, or whatever the hell he was supposed to do when he screwed up. He just kept running.
____
…Yes! I saw her. She saw me. I was performing my pièce de résistance – my own masterpiece. The hardest, fastest, most vigorous piano piece I’d ever played in my 7 years in the orchestra. I’d practiced all month, and all the month before that. It had no name – I thought I might wait to think of something appropriate. How long ago did I start practicing? Three, four months? No, it was two months. Oh, what am I even saying? I don’t even remember before yesterday, let alone that far back. It’s all such a blur.
I wished I could have practiced more – but then again, I didn’t even know that she’d be there until Octavia told me about her, and I’m pretty sure THAT was about two months ago.
She sighed when she gauged my reaction.
“You won’t get her, you know.”
...That's such an Octavia thing to say. Ruin a stallion’s dreams why don’t you, you stuck up cellist.
At least, that’s what I wanted to say. But no. She’s my greatest friend in the world. She’s just trying to protect me...
From myself.
Before anything else, I spent a succession of days in the music library, finding something sufficiently grandeur for a solo piano player. Waltzes, Dances, Dreams, Overtures… Nothing really quite cut it. Nothing expressed my innermost desire and gentleness. I decided to write it myself, and then play it.
So, I wrote. I practiced, I wrote, and then I practiced some more. So much power, innovation, and beauty as ever could be found in a piece of music – I went all in on it. I practiced in every moment of my spare time. On the weekends. In the evenings. So hard, my hooves literally burned with pain.
...My instructor laughed when I told him about my cunning plan.
“Little Clef! My dear boy!” He slapped me on the back in his lively Neightalian way. “What you are doing is trying to be a virtuoso. That takes a lotta practice, sí? You gotta be a great player like your forefather was. Maybe then-a you write these, uh… how you say, bravura pieces, yes?”
I shake my head as he shows me another piece. I had written before. Snatches of songs, fragments - nothing serious. But I’ve got no interest in mediocrity whatsoever, and I tell him as much. He sighs. For the umpteenth time, I tell him my name is Cliff, not Clef. He laughs at me jokingly and slaps me on the back again.
“You don’t-a just start writing a piece over the next week,” he begins to say. “It is a big task! Maybe it’ll take-a four or five months? Comprende? There’s not enough time…”
And then I just started playing.
I figured it’d be better for me to just show him what I’d already done instead of just talking about it, and it had the desired effect.
...I don't mean to brag, but If I was a dentist, I’d say he’d have to order a new jaw from how hard it hit the floor. I’d picked up this thing only a week or two ago. Hard? I laugh at hard. Hard is just when you can’t be bothered to do something. Hard is having no motivation and having to do it anyway. For me, music isn’t hard, it’s easy. It’s passion. It’s life.
All I wanted is to make that piece of music perfect. All for her, of course – I just had to. I had to make it perfect. I didn’t then, of course, but I laugh now, as I look back. To know that anything but my music had this much effect on me.
I’d met her first about a year ago. She’d just been freed from a nightmare – she hadn’t been herself for a long time.
...Or something mysterious like that. This was before I knew Twilight, you see – so I didn’t know much about her past.
Anyway...
This was her first time arriving back at Canterlot. Octavia had told me that she used to live here before Celestia got rid of her. I didn’t really know what to think about that at the time.
Word of her arrival preceded her – she was supposedly a thousand years old, ruler of all the stars and the moon. I didn’t think too much of it, honestly. I was just a pianist with the orchestra – only new to the castle myself, two or three months back. I had bigger and better things to worry about, like making friends.
I was straight out of Canterlot’s musical academies, and I’d left all but one of my nearest and dearest behind in order to chase my dream of entertaining. As such, I wasn’t terribly interested in the buzz that surrounded her return, but I went and watched anyway with Octavia. It was just something else to do instead of practice, after all. I remember craning to get a look over the crowd that lined themselves around the gateway. The drawbridge began to crunch open, its tired chains cracking and creaking - and there was a small ripple of murmurs as she entered.
First time I laid eyes on her I was... dumbfounded. My brain just froze up, and that was that. For the whole minute it took for her to walk from the open portcullis to the main hall, I just stared, the crowd clapping and cheering in welcome. A thousand years and yet I couldn’t have imagined, not even in those years were I ever to live that long, what she really looked like. I had imagined some regal figure like her older sister – radiant, calm, tall. But she was closer to... well, us common folk. She had the curious horn and wings of her sister, and yet she was very young. No taller or smaller than your average young lady. She looked younger than me, in fact.
And she was beautiful.
That was the start of my infatuation with her. But of course, she’s a Princess, and I'm a commoner. So when I was offered the chance to play...
I first touched a piano when I was five. It belonged to one of my family friends – we’d gone over to their house for dinner that night, and I’d finished early. I was playing with their young daughter, about my age. Remember when I mentioned I still knew one person at the castle? That was Octavia. We grew up together - she was always really close to me.
But not in that way, of course. Never in that way. No, we were more like brother and sister.
But this was well before we knew each-other that well. It was when my parents were just getting to know hers - it was the first time I’d met her at all, in fact.
She showed me all of the musical instruments that her dad collected over his career as a musician – violins, each a different and rich shade of mahogany, polished to perfection. Guitars, small and dry mandolins or deep, large and earthy acoustics - as I plucked their strings carefully, the buzz of sound made me smile. I always liked music. Elsewhere around the room there laid many magnificent cellos and double basses. Way taller than me at that age. They towered over me as I looked at them. I remember giggling as Octavia said she wanted to play one of these giant things one day.
Was that even doable, I wondered...
But then, she showed me that creaking old wooden piano against the wall. I thought it was some kind of chest of drawers at first, its intricate wood patterns looking too well-designed and taken care of to be anything you’d use day-to-day. I was wrong. Octavia had lifted a little lid that opened with a gentle creak, and there before my eyes laid a sparkling array of white and black keys.
This was her dad’s piano, she said. We weren’t supposed to be playing with it, but it was OK if we just looked.
Of course, the first thing I did was jump up onto the black leather seat and tap a few of those polished pearl-coloured rectangles, just for fun. The noise it made was kind of odd – hollow, and ringing. Odd, and yet compelling. Octavia had jumped a little in fear and gasped.
Stop it, she had whined. You'll get us into trouble. I stuck my tongue out and played some more, just to tease Octavia. I think that was when I started really loving making fun of her.
Well, apparently whatever I’d played attracted the attention of the adults in the hall. They came and inspected where this noise was coming from, and there was me, sitting there at the piano.
Turns out that’s what you call ‘music’. I was enjoying it, and it showed, because that was the day I got my cutie mark.
A quaver. A single black stripe with a tick on one end and a dot on the other. Apparently, that counted as being musically gifted - or at least, that was what Octavia’s father had said. I didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but hey, I love gifts.
So, I was whisked off to board in a school of the arts in Canterlot with Octavia. Needless to say I hated the experience at first, but it wasn’t as bad as time went on. I made a lot of great friends in that place. Octavia being the obvious one. Some of the others, too - Haydn, Wolfgang...
Anyway, I digress again.
I saw her in the crowd about an hour before I played. I peeked out at the gathering ponies from backstage. She was just milling around, looking lost as she always tended to look. She was what made my heart beat as fast as it did.
The gala crowd of 600 of Equestria’s wealthiest and best? I couldn't have cared less about them. It really wouldn’t have meant anything to me if she wasn’t there. I could see her from between the red curtains that obscured the backstage area, and I couldn’t help but choke on the brick-shaped lump in my throat.
Back there, it’s a blend of red curtains and darkness. I felt quite safe as I watched her from afar – she seemed so distant. I was well hidden, which was a relief – I felt like shaking, and didn’t know if I was. I didn’t even have the bravery to check.
I can see THAT out there as well – that gigantic bloody instrument in the centre of the stage. My 'destiny', as it were.
It’s bathed in a bright spotlight, and that makes me more nervous. It’s not just my destiny, it's my past, too.
I’ll never forget the way it looked... Black, tall, wide, majestic, intimidating. The most expensive piano ever made, gilded with floral gold, hand-made for her royal highness, Princess Celestia. The lid is open, and from where I’m standing, I can see the burnished brass metal within. The intricacy poured into its every one of its polished surfaces – every smooth edge and corner meeting harmoniously at the keys. They’re sparkling white and made of polished ivory.
There’s a red velvet seat set in front of it.
It matches the deep burgundy carpet trimmed with gold that leads me to great instrument.
It’s placed out on an island jutting away from the stage – connected by small catwalk.
I've never been so scared in my entire life.
At first glance, the piano appears to float on a sea of heads, their owners eagerly craning their necks to see who or what the next act was. And then, a booming voice awakens me from my stupor. I cock my head up, and I realise that not only is someone pushing me in the small of my back towards the light of the stage, but it's my name being introduced!
“Presenting, of her Majesty’s Royal Orchestra… One of our most talented young musicians… Clef van Beethooven!”
I take a step out into the light. There's a smattering of light applause as ponies gathered at their gala tables look at me, some continuing to chat amongst themselves, some drinking and eating. Mercifully, there’s only a small amount of interest in me, probably because I’m not the first act. That had been Octavia’s job on the violin. I sometimes wondered how a mare could be so multi-talented... I'm not jealous.
I keep my eyes fixed on the Piano as I approach it. I thought at the time that If I looked elsewhere, I'd probably fall over in nervousness, so I just glued my eyes to the piano. It’s placed in the centre of the tiny island, so far away from the comfort of backstage - but even so I find that as I arrive, I’m not far away from the audience. In fact, I’m not even too high up. Just a touch above table height. Just the perfect height to look for her.
I turn to my right and bow once before sweeping my coat-tails out of the way, planting my rump on the red velvet seat. I see a flash of dark hair and a sparkle of something as I turn, and I can’t look now, but I knew what that was. That’s her. She’s right there. I’d know that mane anywhere. I can feel the gazes of the audience from every angle as they look at me. For a brief moment, I’m nervous, and as I turn the page of the music sheet-book in front of me, the silence is deafening.
I rest my hooves on the stunningly white ivory keys and begin to play. A perfect intro, dramatic and poised. Just a few loud notes played vigorously. It had to be just so - A brioso, my instructor had said. Dramatic, loud, spirited. Just to get their attention, of course – perhaps hers as well, if I was lucky. There’s a few hushes thrown around, and I move into the song, gently stroking the keys with my hooves as I play the ever-familiar introduction. It’s slow, meaningful. A series of crotchets and minims designed to draw everyone into the song. And then, I slowly speed up, the note pattern rising and rising before I swiftly slide my hooves right, making piano ring from its deepest to highest notes.
It begins.
A few audience members begin to watch earnestly as the song gets underway, and every time I hit the piano, I just felt myself get faster and faster. There was a pattern of three notes – a simple G sharp, D sharp and E. Every time I played them I was supposed to repeat the last few bars and then the chorus, this time a little faster.
And every time it got faster, the crowd began to pay more attention it. Some had stopped their talking, and began to murmur with approval. I even swore that I heard a cheer or two. I’d switch it up between the speedups. Adagio and legato. Drawing my very soul out of the keys on the piano as the music demands, and then – boom! Allegro and staccato. My hooves would go from ever-so-slightly touching the keys to flying everywhere. Just like I practiced.
About a minute through the song, I pick up my sheet-music in front and throw it over my shoulder for dramatic tension. It lands behind me with a rustle of paper on the catwalk. The crowd’s now a bit bigger, and people laugh at my act, cheering.
A buzz of approval as I hit that insanely fast series of high-notes again. At this point, even the Princess is looking at me now – I can see her face glance over at me quietly, all the way across from where she’s sitting. I can see her in the room between the piano lid and its strings – but I don’t see her.
The other one. That girl. She… I can’t really describe it. But she was so unreal. That one perfect navy blossom of such breathtaking beauty, poise, grace... I don’t see her. My heart drops a little bit in my stomach. I know I can’t look around, even for a moment. I have to focus; the hard bit’s coming up.
The piano sings as I race up another set of scales and back down again. She has to be there, I thought. I saw her before. A trail of sweat drips from my brow. Again - it's not the performance.
The few bars that always snuck up on me in all my practices, causing me to falter – I spot them coming a mile away, clearing them with a huge leap of my hooves from one end of the piano to the other. To falter now would be devastating – after all, there was still the chance that she was watching. She just had to be.
And now back to the easy part – I can afford to look around a little. I close my eyes and look away from the piano’s ringing keys.
Playing blind is easier than it looks, but the crowd doesn’t know that. They go nuts. I beam around myself with pleasure as I rock slightly back and forth, every inch of my being poured into the piece. I’m so involved in playing with my eyes closed; I almost forget to take advantage of the respite to look around quickly. I risk a peek to the left and right.
And it’s in that moment that I spot her.
She’s there – not next to her sister at the table enjoying the food and wine on her throne, not far away at the other side of the room, uninterested in my performance - she’s right THERE. In the front row of onlookers that’s now gathered around the foot of the circular pedestal, a look of wonder on her face.
I could have very nearly passed out then and there, and I feel my vision swim. I slow the song deliberately to give myself some breathing room. Between her and the performance, I’m not feeling too flash, but my heart kicks into overdrive – damn thing feels like it’s about to fly out of my chest, and that revives me a little. The crowd reckon that I’m just showing off again and laugh as I slow down, leaning away a bit from the piano.
That’s one of the better points about entertaining. When you get good at it, people think even your errors are all part of the act.
Now comes another hard bit - the exposition of the piece. My shoulders are already on fire, and I’m only two minutes in. The song is six minutes and twenty-five seconds long exactly. Lactic acid starts kicking in during the slow bits.
I deliberately throw a few chords and scales in there. They’re improvised to breathe some life into me, not the piece, and thankfully the crowd loves them anyway. Coming up to the two-thirty mark, and I turn up the pace again, my hooves tip-toeing over sharps and flats as I crash my way through a loud and fast section. My nerves are wracked.
The crowd is massive now. Celestia cranes her neck for a look at the face of whoever's playing that wonderful music. Someone’s trying to have a conversation with her, but I can see her through the gap the lifted lid of the black grand piano gives me. All she wants to look at is me. I see a gentle smile curve over her face as I push myself faster. I slap my wrists on chords, hitting everything with utter perfection. Another blast of notes in quick succession, and I hear a few gasps of amazement. My heart races. Only about two minutes left now. Time for my final trick.
I look over for her again before I try it. She’s still there, clapping and laughing. I hit an easy spot – just a soft moment of adagio again, and I l know that’s my signal. I take my right hoof off the keyboard completely and begin to play with just one hoof.
Granted, for the instant that I do it, it’s not relatively complicated - just a handful of chords repeated for a six or seven bars - but the crowd loves it. They applaud and gasp in amazement at my skill, and I smile to myself again.
Aside from resting my aching right arm, the handful of slowly-played bars gives me time to reach into my jacket pocket, producing a single, perfect blue rose. I paid dearly for it - I had to beg Twilight Sparkle to conjure one for me. Even with the incredible cost of the magical ingredients I needed, she made me agree I’d try and get all her friends tickets. I didn’t disappoint. And neither did she. It took her a whole hour, but Princess Celestia must’ve been a good teacher, because that Twilight produced something beautiful. I know that she too is out there somewhere, but she’s not the one I’m playing for.
I look to the right for her again – she’s still there, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Her eyes are still focused on me, not the rose. The song switches from series of steady low notes to a rush of high notes, and I get a little window to lean to the right as I play, handing her the rose as I look her in her gorgeous blue eyes. She gasps a little with surprise, but then she smiles at me, biting her lip slightly and blushing as the crowd whoops and cheers my bravado. I don’t notice anything but her as I put both my hooves back on the keys and jump back into my music. Just a few minutes left.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me – there’s not a soul in the room who hasn’t heard me by now, and I want them to hear. All of my hard work. All of my brilliance. I screw up my eyes tightly and picture the last ripped, aged sheet of music in my mind, and I simply hammer the keys.
With thirty seconds to go. My hooves are on fire, an incredible mixture of pain and pleasure whirling through my mind as I feel the end coming closer. All I do is dance over the keys at an ever-increasing rate. It's an insane cocktail of adrenaline and love. It's what I was born to do.
Thirty seconds. How weird. It felt like it could have been ten minutes. You know that way that time draws itself out at the most inconvenient moments? That was exactly what happened.
The music reaches a crescendo. Accesso, I remembered writing on my sheet music. It means ‘ignited’. I set the room ablaze with my passion. It’s a seemingly endless moment, a literal blur of sound – my god, that sound! Pure, smooth notes, and boundless energy, energy so intense it electrifies every inch of my body whenever my hooftips brush the keys. I open up and release my innermost reserves of strength to keep myself going.
I was so close to perfection. So close to her. That one, impossible goal that had always dangled just out of my reach wherever I went in life.
To study perfectly. To play perfectly. To find perfection in someone else.
Twenty seconds.
So elusive were each of these things on their own, and yet here, as music filled the greatest hall of Equestria in front of the Princess herself, all three were close to being mine.
They were within an arm’s distance, and all I had to do was tap just a handful of keys more. Then, perfection would be mine… I could almost taste it on my tongue, feel it in my bones – an impossible sensation and flavour, one that I was sure could never exist, and yet one that I desired more than anything else.
Ten seconds.
A small half-second break before the final attack. A brief pause, and then a roar of sound as I resume.
Nine seconds.
My eyes open up for the first time in forever.
Eight.
I absorb the spectacular display of colour that dazzles my spinning mind.
Seven.
A symphony of the senses.
Six.
My eyes find her in the audience again. She stares into my own. She’s still watching. Blushing.
Five.
She was so perfect.
Four.
She had to be mine.
Three.
So unbelievably perfect.
Two.
I would make her mine.
One.
Everything I had, I gave to her...
Zero.
My hooves slam home on the final chord, and I slump back into the chair exhaustedly. It’s only then I remember that there’s no back to it. I topple over, the lights above me spinning in my eyes as I fall to the ground with a gentle thud.
The crowd explodes into applause. It’s music in its own way. It sounds better than anything I’ve ever played or heard.
... Way better.
I feel something land on my chest as I lie there. I tilt my head off the red carpet and observe it. It’s a flower. A daisy.
And then another lands on me.
This one’s a rose. Deep, rich, blood-red.
And another.
A white lily.
And another. A shower of flowers descends on me.
I struggle for a moment as I get to my feet, and I can feel hooves pulling me up. Several muscled, strong arms. Royal guards, their heroic faces turned upwards into grins of mirth and joy. I face the audience. Everybody is on their feet.
The thought occurs to me that I’ve just fallen over like a foal in front of everybody. Before the performance I might have simply lain there and pretended to have not existed. But now?... I just don’t care. My friend – my lifelong friend, Octavia. She’s sitting in the front row. I lock eyes with her and she cheers extra hard, waving.
A lucid feeling overcomes me as the scale of my accomplishment tickles the back of my mind. I smile back and wave. But even so, I keep looking slowly around the audience for her. Everywhere faces cheer me as I stand there, panting. Did she see it? Was she still here?
I find her again by the colour of her eyes. She’s not clapping, just looking at me, smiling gently.
Time, colour, sound… it all fades to naught as we lock eyes for a moment. I don’t even know how long it was that all I could hear was my own heart beating in my ears. It felt like forever. It felt like every happy dream that I’d had. Every smile I’d ever smiled. Every deep and relaxing breath I’d ever taken, and every laugh I’d ever laughed – it felt like all of those things, pushed into this instant. I'm sure that if life had a meaning, that that would have been it. A little moment of perfection that I'll remember forever.
Her cheeks are still a faded tinge of pink, and my heart skips a beat as I see the blue rose. She’s put it into her hair. It matches her mane perfectly. My god, she’s more beautiful than I could have possibly thought... Now that I had an excuse to look at her cool beauty, I did so for as long as I dared, drunk on the heart-stopping gaze of her sapphire eyes.
Me, the chestnut-brown earth pony. Born a musical prodigy. Her, the height of royalty. The Princess of the moon.
She keeps her gaze fixed on me as she turns away, beginning to weave her way through the crowd. I crane my neck instinctively to follow her. Where’s she going?
No sooner can I contemplate an answer when I feel the whack of a hoof on my back. I nearly lose my balance again, but immediately I’m swept into someone’s arms. It’s my teacher, Antonio. He hugs me and shouts words I can hardly hear over the racket. I stare at him blankly. He leans close to my ear and yells, and suddenly all the sound in the world returns to me in a blast.
__
“My little Clef, you have done it!” The Italian Palomino shouted in Cliff’s ear. “Bravissimo! I am so proud of you!” he yelled. A dull roar of cheers filled Clef’s ears as he recognised the sudden chant from the audience. “They want an encore!”
__
I consider it for a moment, before I shake my head. Not at the moment, folks. The crowd, my teacher included let out a simultaneous cry of dismay, but then Antonio elicits another roar from the crowd as he presents me to the audience. His finest student. His most proud moment, and deservedly, my own – but I don’t feel it as much as I should, this I know.
A gush of noise flows forth, a huge torrent of clapping, the loudest yet. Whistles, cheers, shouts of praise. I glow with embarrassment. As disappointed as they are, they know I’m exhausted. I don’t even bother to exit backstage – I release myself from my Teacher’s vice-like grip, turning about once, scooping the flowers off the floor into a makeshift bouquet.
I hold it to my muzzle and breathe deeply in the still unreal scent before simply stepping down off the stage. I walk my way to the door, enduring a cascade of hooves patting me on the back and rustling my hair. There were even a few ladies in the audience blowing kisses to me, but it wasn’t their eyes I sought. The crowd parted before me as I took towards the door, determined to chase after her.
And then Celestia appeared before me. I stopped, and the surge of onlookers behind me knocked me forward slightly. I regained my balance, and then bowed low, expecting a small speech on how well I played. Instead, she put a hoof on my chin, lifting me back up.
“That was so beautiful, I feel like we should all be bowing to you,” she said. I fumbled with a grin and opened my mouth, but before I could conjure any words, she craned her neck close to my ear, affixing me with her piercing lilac eyes.
“She asked me to tell you - you should go to the garden.”
My heart froze. How did she--?
“Gotcha!” she said, taking my surprised reaction as confirmation, a little smile dancing across her face. I blush deeply. I don't know how she knew.
“Go and chase her,” she added.
I obliged. I ran. I ran past the great white Pegasus whose presence and praise on any other day I would have died to keep. The double-oak doors were all that stood between me and the outside. I ran through those huge barriers, pushing them outwards with a gigantic thud.
__
Cliff ran along the packed corridor of Canterlot castle. The heat of the summer evening made him swelter, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all.
He had not run far when a wooden double-door to his left swung open suddenly. It was Octavia, and as soon as she saw Cliff, she let out an excited, high-pitched squeal. She dashed to him, throwing her arms around the startled pianist with a delighted laugh.
“Oh Cliff, that was… amazing! I’ve never ever seen you play so well.” she gave him a quick once-over, taking in his panting chest and the strand of sweat rolling down his face. “Cliff? What’s wrong? Where are you running to? Did you lose somethi-”
__
Then, she realises the reason I didn’t take my encore. She looks irritated. More irritated then I’d ever seen her.
“You gave up your encore for that?” She said indignantly. “Well, if you are going to go chasing after her, then I’m not going to stop you anymore!” The cellist said huffily, stamping her hoof down before turning her back to him.
I didn’t know whether to stay or go. There’s a long pause.
“Octavia…” I say gently.
Another long pause.
“Octavia, please.”
Another.
“Octavia.”
She sniffs to herself before speaking.
“Ugh, you are so juvenile.” She says. I can hear something in her ever-pompous voice, but she’s still not looking at me.
“Pot, kettle.” I say. She coughs, and I can’t tell if she was trying to hide a laugh or not. I think she was.
“Fine. She’s in the garden. With her friend Twilight. You know, Celestia’s student.”
I grin. She’s always looking out for me at times like these. I come up behind her and hug her around the midriff, wrapping my forelegs below her own, planting a sudden kiss on her grey cheek. She jumps in surprise. I love it when that happens.
"Thank you so much," I say. "It means the world to me."
It does.
She doesn’t reply, but I know she’ll be OK. She's always like that when she's happy.
I turned and went.
__
He burst through the garden doors. Even here there were still a handful of revelers taking in his masterpiece. They waved their glasses at him cheerfully as he ran by, following the garden’s winding path. Soon, he left the tables and revelers and lights far, far behind. He slowed.
__
I felt a bit foolish as I remembered why I was running in the first place. She wasn’t going anywhere. I knew that. I didn’t have to rush away... I suppose that’s just how I felt about her.
__
The summer wind blew softly once more. Its great force caused the tall trees to nod approvingly as the young colt trotted down through the sloping gardens, between perfectly manicured bushes of lush berries and flowers. The grass was a verdant green unmatched, and the zephyr of wind that gusted past him caused it to wave and shimmer in the radiance of the crescent moon. He took a moment to absorb his surroundings and breathe the warm air deeply. It smelled good, and felt better.
__
I walked forward through a gap in a small ring of shrubs, and there she is, with Twilight, just as Octavia had said. They’re both standing at the edge of the gardens where the cliff drops into the pools of water below, leaning on the marble railing and chatting. Twilight hears me coming and turns to face me. She’s smiling.
“Well, if it isn’t the maestro of Canterlot!” she says, clapping her front hooves together excitedly. The sound attracts the attention of the Princess, and she turns to face me as well.
I roll my eyes and laugh, despite my nervousness. I run a hoof along my brow in nervousness and I can feel the corners of my mouth tightening into a smile. I couldn’t have stopped it even if I wanted to, but I still stand there as the blood rushes to my cheeks.
“Oh come on, don’t embarrass me, Miss Sparkle.”
Twilight laughs.
“Miss?” she says, applying an air of importance to her voice. I flash a quick grin.
“Twi.”
“Better!” the purple unicorn says, trotting towards me a little, looking back at the Princess. “Luna, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Thought I don’t doubt you two have met before.”
I walk before her and kneel, taking her perfect blue hoof and kissing it lightly.
She dissolves into a fit of giggling. It sounds like spring water over rocks on a rainy day. I introduce myself.
“My name is Clef, your highness.”
Twilight huffs one of her characteristic sighs and pulls me up. By my shoulders, no less.
“Okay -- Cliff? I know you’re terrified of her and everything, but she’s not going to bite your head off for bad manners.”
I nod, exhaling a little. She’s still giggling, her cheeks returning to that magnificent shade of pink I had seen there during my performance. That really didn’t help. Now I’m terrified AND entranced. Then she speaks.
“It’s okay, Cliff. You can just call me Luna.”
I remember my first impression of her voice. That wasn’t at all what I was expecting either. It’s youthful, light - not the voice of a royal princess at all. Like a breath of fresh air. I’m still out of words.
I shake my head a little bit, and Twilight pats me on the shoulder.
“You’re probably going to have to talk to her sooner or later,” she says, the faintest grin on her face. “Because I have to go and stop Applejack from becoming too vicious with her pastry cart.”
Wait, what? The thought races through my head at a million miles an hour. She’s leaving me alone with her? I struggle to think of some vague reason to keep her around.
But before I can raise an objection, she’s gone with a flash of purple light, leaving me all alone with her. There’s an awkward silence while she just looks at me, that curious little smile that had given me such a buzz during my performance on her lips again.
I take a few steps forward and lean on the railing next to her. Her navy coat seems to blend in with the night sky, and without the solitary lamp suspended by a cord from the tree branches above, I’m sure I wouldn’t have seen her. I don’t dare look at her long though – I’m incapable of thinking if I do – and after what feels like forever, I finally manage to stutter out some kind of intelligible sentence.
“Did you like the rose?” I ask, staring out at the navy sea. My inner monologue beats me around the ears. Why did I just ask her that? What kind of way is that to start a conversa-
“It was beautiful.” She cuts my thoughts short. I feel my face flushing with pleasure again. “Twilight was telling me just before that you practically begged her to make one for you.”
I nod my head in agreement.
“They don’t occur naturally, so yes, I had to ask her.”
My heart freezes for a moment. Twilight had told her about the rose? I glance over at her worriedly. What else had she told her about?
She laughs another one of her curious, faint, tinkling laughs. My immediate concerns wash away as if it were nothing more than dirt on a crystal. If only you could take sound and bottle it, I think to myself.
“I thought the music you played was very beautiful, too.” It’s only now that I realise I’m staring at her as she talks to me, and I feel myself blanch a little as I turn back to face the stars.
“Thank you, your highne-” I pause, catching myself. “Luna.” A small feeling of pride accompanied by a tingle of happiness overcomes me as I say her name for the first time.
“What was it called?”
I feel myself grimace.
“It’s untitled, at the moment.” It was true, and pretty stupid. I hadn’t even contemplated it yet. All that work, and it had no name.
“What do you mean? It has no title?” I can feel her curious gaze on the side of me.
“Yes, that’s right. It's nameless. Well, I hadn’t thought a name for it yet, anyway.”
“You played a song with no name?” She asks. “But how did you find it to learn it and play it?”
I suddenly realise why she’s confused.
“Oh, right!” I exclaim. “I wrote it myself. Thus, it has no name.”
I hear her gasp a little bit. A shiver runs up my spine.
“You wrote that whole thing?”
I turn to her. She’s staring at me, her perfectly blue eyes wide open and surprised, her mouth slightly agape. She’s impressed.
“Yes, that’s right.”
She smiles again.
“How did you manage that?”
“Oh, a crotchet here, a minim there…” I draw a few imaginary notes in the night sky to my right. “It was just a little side project of mine…” I chuckle to myself proudly, my spirits welling a little bit. For once, I’m actually capable of looking at her when she talks to me.
“You’re very talented.”
“Nahh!” I wave a hoof at her. The heat floods to my cheeks once more “Get away.”
“No, really!” she says earnestly, and I’m a little taken aback by her insistence. “It was amazing.”
I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. It feels like… a strong alcoholic drink. As it comes forth it burns my throat and my chest, and I feel a few of my worries and nerves being carried away into the air along with it.
“Thank you, again, your highness. It’s a huge honour.”
She sighs a little. I see a frown crease her otherwise perfect face.
“I’m not saying that as a Princess.”
I shake my head.
"But you are a Princess."
"No, I'm not."
“I’m fairly certain you are – at least that’s what I’ve heard.”
“No, I mean – well, I am, of course, but I’m not…” she looks at her hooves. “I don’t want to be a Princess to ponies.”
I’m a bit confused, so I press her.
“Why’s that?” I nod at the tiara placed around her head. “The life and lap of luxury? Endless respect and adulation? I can’t imagine a possible setback.”
I could later, of course. In fact, it's pretty easy to see why you might not enjoy it. But at that moment, I wasn’t really functioning fully. She looks back up at me. The frown’s gone, but so is her smile.
“Well, because people don’t talk to me to be nice or friendly. They do it because I’m a Princess.” She sighs and turns left, looking out at the night sky.
I nod slowly. Some part of my nervousness floats away idly.
“I know what you mean.”
“Huh?”
“Well, if my last name didn’t tip you off, I’ve got a bit of a musical heritage.”
I lean forward as I tell her about growing up in boarding school.
I tell her nearly everything I can remember. It felt good to talk to her about it. I tell her about how I’d been singled out for being a prodigy, isolated from my peers and sent to a fancy art school. I tell her about the loneliness I went through, my musical brilliance setting me apart from even the most gifted musicians. I tell her how Octavia was my best friend and how she stuck up for me all the time. I tell her a lot of things I probably wouldn’t have told anyone else, for obvious reasons.
In retrospect it's a stupid risk for me to have taken. How weird could I get, spilling my life story out like that?
Anyway... It’s a long story, and as I finish, I nod at her.
"People don't talk to me to be nice or friendly. They do it because they want me to play for them."
There's a short pause while she takes my words in.
“So what’s your story?” I continue, keen to break the silence.
She looks surprised. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Only vague whispers and rumours.”
“Then you know most of it already.” She sighs a little.
“Tell me anyway.”
So she does. Maybe she found my life a little more interesting than I thought. I can't believe it. She really starts talking to me about her own backstory. She tells me all about how she and her sister Celestia ruled Equestria together. How she got jealous of her sister. How her night-time, all her work and everything beautiful she put into it – was never really seen by anyone. They were all asleep. Nobody was there to appreciate it.
She tells me about how her bitterness had awakened a spiteful side of her, a side called nightmare moon. I can hear her breath shudder a little as she goes to describe the night she was banished.
"...I'll never forget that night, as long as I live," she says. She looks pained, mournful, regretful.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to," I said. She shakes her horned head sadly.
“No. I feel like I owe you something for you telling me about yourself.”
She goes on to explain how her evil side had taken control of her, and how she had used her powers to try and stop the sun from rising, bathing the lands in eternal night. Celestia had used the elements of harmony to imprison her in the moon from then till only recently.
“I was so cold…” she says, and I see her wings shake a little. She continues to stare into the boundless galaxies above, and I take the opportunity to step a little closer. Close enough to reach out and hold her. She lets out a little gasp as I touch her magnificent, silver wings, putting my hoof on her back.
“You’re trembling, Luna. Please stop.”
There’s a long pause.
“I’m sorry." She fumbles with an apology – but I’m not interested in hearing it.
“You don’t need to say you're sorry. It wasn't really you.”
“I know, it’s just –” She stops herself halfway. I don't really mind.
"Some things in life, you just don't need to explain," I say softly. I was thinking it. It didn't sound as horrible in words as I thought it would.
I remove my hoof, and together there we stand for a while. The lonely musical prodigy and the imprisoned princess. Two isolated people. Different worlds, same problems. Together, we appreciate the deep, velvet sky. It's a long time before I even think about speaking.
“I think you underestimated how much people loved your night.”
She looks up at me.
“What do you mean?” she asks, gazing at me. I look down and see she’s still sad, lost in her own thoughts.
“Well, I wrote the song by moonlight.” I say.
“Really? That was your inspiration?”
“Yep. I love the stars.”
“Wow…” she stares off into space again as I continue to talk.
“When I was a foal in boarding school, I used to have the bottom bunk. It was the worst bunk you could get, too – it was right by the window, so in the morning, the sun used to get in my eyes really early. And every night before I went to bed, I’d always be looking out here.” I wave my hoof at the trail of white above me. “I used to count the stars before I went to sleep,” I say. “If the moon was bright enough I’d stare at that too, until I drifted off. Sometimes, I’d lie awake for hours, just watching it. Counting the dots on its surface, its silvery white radiance. It was beautiful to me.”
Luna shivers again at the mention of the moon. I continue.
“And, even though I was always a bit lonely as a little foal, I thought the mare in the moon was always someone I could look at, and stare at. Someone special, who'd just take me for who I was rather then what I was.”
I’m not kidding, either. Shut up about it, will you?
Luna looks me in the eyes.
“Really?…Is that all true?"
I wince. The embarrassing stupidity of what I'm saying actually hits me. “Yeah.”
"...So you wrote it about the moon? My moon?”
Well of course, I wrote it with her in mind. But I wasn’t about to tell her that much. Besides, it wasn’t a full lie. I really had written it about the moon.
"Yeah, I did."
The mare in the moon.
“Well that’s not what your friend Octavia told twilight.”
My whole body tenses. Any looseness I had gained from her compliments and the stories I had told her vanishes. Despite the warm breeze, I suddenly feel as if someone’s tipped a bucket of ice water on my head. Something happens to me. My brain’s on holiday, and it’s left in its place a useless grey lump. It takes me a while to make my mouth work again, but I manage it without imitating a goldfish.
“Octavia… is friends with Twilight?”
“She’s friends with me, silly!”
Oh, hell, I thought. I guess this is Octavia’s way of getting me back for all those years of teasing. I can’t help but picture her and Twilight laughing to themselves about my predicament, back in the light and music of the castle.
“Twilight told me, that Octavia said you’d worked nearly non-stop on it.”
I wordlessly nod. It’s all I can do.
“And, she also told me how much time you spent in the music library beforehand.”
Another piece of the puzzle clicks into my head. Twilight would have been in the music library too, of course. I’ve just been too tied up in my music to even notice her once, even in all the time I spent there writing. I realise I’ve been played like a foal, and I run a hoof nervously through my mane. It’s not as immaculate as it was before, but it’s still there. I haven’t subconsciously torn it all out in stress, and that’s good enough for me.
“Is that right?” I inquire, turning my head back out to the stars. I wanted to look her in the face, but I found myself again incapable of thinking when I looked at her. “How long ago did she tell you this, exactly?”
“Oh, about two months ago.”
Damnit, Twilight. I'd have to remember to get her back somehow.
“And what else did she tell you?”
“Nothing, nothing.” She pauses. “…But Octavia told me all about how nervous you were.”
...Maybe I'd put a rubber snake in her bed.
“…And how much you were looking forward to playing tonight.”
She leans a little closer.
“Just for me.”
My heart flies in my chest and, despite my best efforts, I can feel my breath is strained.
“So, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” She says.
I feel like I’m going to die, but all the same I turn back to her and laugh nervously.
“Other than my sudden and utterly profound dislike for both of these ponies?” I shrug.
She laughs. Not a giggle, but a laugh – it lifts my spirits, to listen to her. I watch her laughing, and as I do, I feel a smile forming over my own face. Suddenly, I’m laughing too. For real, this time. It starts soft and quiet, but then it grows. It grows louder and louder, till we’re both heaving with laughter. Laughter so hard, I can’t even stand up straight. We both laugh for ages, and I don’t even care that we both look crazy. Like two lunatics, probably. We're both silhouetted against the night sky by the pale brightness of the moon. I throw my head to the velvet above and almost fall on my haunches as I stagger back, doubled over with laughter. She’s in tears, leaning on the side of the rail just to hold herself up. It felt like an eternity.
I don’t really know why we laughed as much as we did. I guess I’m just happy to be here with her. Sharing the moment, swapping stories. Kindred spirits, I guess.
The uproar begins to die down to a few chuckles as she looks at me, still panting lightly for breath. I meet her eyes again, the echoes of my laughter still escaping from my mouth in little bubbles of mirth. I wipe a hoof across my own to remove the moisture from them, this stupid grin on my face as I stare at her. She’s smiling too.
The trees dance slowly as the wind stirs up.
There’s that smell again, so rich and earthly in flavour. All around me I can see and hear the music of the night. Night-birds calling to each other with gentle hoots. The gentle hum of crickets and cicadas in the warmth. The castle in the near distance, all lit up, its white towers capped with roofs of gold and purple, illuminated by the infinite stars overhead, and the waning light of the crescent-shaped moon.
And then she kisses me.
If this was a nightmare or a dream, I’d have woken up already, so I don’t bother to pinch myself. Instead, I kiss her back.
...What do I say about it? I don’t know. It was hard to explain. I knew it felt good, but it was so much more than just good. It was like the song I had written. Senseless, fire-like. Numbing. Passionate and all-consuming.
Perfection.
Her hot and moist lips run over mine as she sighs in satisfaction and desire.
I brush a hand through her mane. It’s soft – satin-like, smooth to the touch. It stirs a scent into my nostrils – a perfume of the rarest wildflowers, sweet like honey. We break our kiss for a moment and stare deeply into each other’s eyes. It’s a wordless moment of pure wonder as she actually looks happy. Happier than I’ve seen her yet. She kisses me on the tip of my nose again.
“You’re sweet,” she says to me softly.
“I love you.” I reply, without thinking. She blushes deeply. We kiss again, this time deeper than before. She places her hooves around my neck, and I place her lips gently against mine once more, her long, wet tongue dancing in unison with mine. I don’t care if anyone sees. Not at all. In fact, nothing would please me more. My heart felt like shouting it to the whole world. Music wouldn’t have done it justice. But there wasn’t time to put it in words or song. No, I'd never have enough time to write about that.
For now, she was mine. I was the King of Equestria, and she was my Queen, her beauty and radiance shining in the moonlight.
This time, I broke the kiss. She looked at me with those dulcet blue eyes of hers. I just wanted to see them again. She speaks.
“Is this what you had in mind when you wrote the song?”
I hug her close to me as I nod gently. Another one of her pleasured sighs sets us off kissing again, though this time it contained something extra. Something new, from her at least – something that caused her to push a little harder with her tongue, her lips pressed firmly against my own. Stronger than simple desire.
She traces her front hooves through my mane as we stand there, locked together for an age. It ends with her again. She breaks the kiss. I’m still holding her navy elegance in my arms, with one hoof stroking her immaculate mane.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I… I don’t know if we should do this.”
“Why not?”
I can see tears welling in her eyes.
“Well, it’s just… I’m…”
“Immortal, I know.”
She looks at me with surprise.
“How did you know?”
“Rumours and whispers.”
“And you don’t care?”
“No.”
She’s still upset. A single tear rolls down her cheek as I hold her to me.
“You’re pretty when you cry, too.”
She sniffs and wipes the tear away before she speaks again.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I’ll live longer then you, that’s why!” she says. More tears stream down her face as she buries her head in my chest. “I couldn’t bear it.”
I can feel the tears. They’re warm. Unhappy. Genuine. And yet I know them to be meaningless.
“No, that’s not true.” I look down at her.
She looks up at me, her tear-stained face sparkling.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll always be mine, Luna.” I squeeze her tightly in my arms. “From the moment I wake till when I sleep. Even through my dreams.”
I hold her even closer, and even tighter. The cliche couldn't bother me less, and I'm thrilled to see her smile a little at my words.
“You’re my guardian angel. You’ve been my angel since I was a foal. The mare in the moon. In my loneliness, how badly I wanted you to be real, and as if you heard me, you came back for me.”
I stroke a stray strand of her hair from her teary eyes as I cradle her softly.
“And that’ll be the way it is and always will be, even after I’ve passed through this world – because I know you’ll keep me in your heart and mind. Forever.”
I kiss her on the lips, gently, briefly.
“Forever mine.”
Again.
“Forever thine,” she whispers to me.
And once more.
“Forever us.”
