The moon was full, riding in a cloudless sky strewn with stars. His Imperial Majesty, Herald of the Moon, Lord of Darkness, Bringer of Night, Artemis Lune Aeturnus, felt its light on his wings, brushing him with a gentle tingle of power that was his and his alone. He felt refreshed, hanging there between the blackness above and the silvered-black shadows of the forest below. This was why he'd left Roan. The city had its own delights, but he needed this open, wild, untamed space.
Below he saw a clearing in the forest, and the roof of what looked like a temple. It was as dark as the empty wood around. Curious, Artemis glided down to land in front of the building. From the ground he could see that it had been abandoned long ago. The main building itself was still more or less intact, but several of the columns in the courtyard before it had fallen, and everything was choked with weeds and young trees. The forest was taking this place back.
Vines and weeds grew also over the base of a statue at the center of the courtyard. The statue itself was fallen and vanished, only the hooves resting on the base showed that it had once been a statue of a pony.
Suspecting what he might find, Artemis gently pulled the weeds away from the plinth. He smiled a sad little smile to see the inscription carved on it. As he had thought, this temple had once been dedicated to him. It would have been abandoned several centuries past, during the years after the founding of Roan. He didn't doubt that some of his followers still lived in the hills nearby, this wasn't that far from Artemesia, his ancient city. He had founded it long, long ago in opposition to his brother's city of Sola. But things had changed since those days, and he was no longer the only god worshiped in this part of the world.
He tucked the plants gently back into place. This temple was theirs now, not his. Time marches on, he thought with a kind of wistful sadness.
He sat next to the statue and pulled a small set of pipes from his saddlebags. Something in this moment demanded song, and he never ignored his muse when she came calling. He lifted the pipes in his hooves, earth pony style as suited this ancient earth pony instrument, and began to play.
The song was gentle and sad, a meditation on the passage of time. There were strands of hope in it, it did not exactly mourn, but it softly lamented that all things crumbled, all things died, save he and his brother. He lost himself in the music, pouring his soul into the song.
He finished and opened his eyes as he lowered the pipes to find a pony seated in the weedy courtyard near him. He blinked in surprise at this new arrival.
“Hello,” said the pony. He was an earth pony stallion with a sky blue coat and indigo blue mane and tail. He was slender, almost gaunt, but his coat was glossy and he seemed in good health. As he rose, Artemis caught a glimpse of a constellation cutie mark.
“Hello,” replied Artemis, a little uncertainly.
“Your song was beautiful,” said the pony.
“Thank you.”
“My name is Draco.”
“I am Artemis.” Artemis was sure this pony must know him already, there was only one midnight blue alicorn in all the world, but he introduced himself anyway, simply for lack of anything else to say.
“It is good to meet you, Artemis,” said Draco. “I get few visitors here.” Artemis noticed that the other stallion had a faint accent, one that he couldn't quite place.
“You live here?”
“For a time, yes. I enjoy the solitude.”
Artemis nodded. “That is why I am traveling just now, to get away from other ponies, to enjoy a little solitude.”
“Forgive me if I intrude then.”
“No, if this is your home, it is I who intrudes. Shall I go?”
Draco hesitated. “Well... much as I often prefer to be alone, I enjoyed your music. And I do sometimes miss talking to other ponies. I see your cutie mark has to do with the night sky... perhaps we have something in common. Do you study astrology? Or astronomy?”
Artemis blinked. Did this pony not know him after all, then? Given the accent he was probably not Roanan, so perhaps not. It is a very wide world, I should not forget that my brother and I do not rule it all, Artemis told himself. He shook off that thought and replied, “I know more of astronomy than astrology, but both subjects interest me.”
“If you have no pressing engagements elsewhere then, I would like it if you stayed a while.”
“No, I have nowhere to be. And the night is still young.” He smiled.
Draco settled to the ground nearby and smiled a very small, cautious smile in return. “What is your star sign then? Mine is Libra.”
“I'm afraid I don't know what mine is.” The stars were not yet hung when I began to be...
“Oh. You don't know your birth date?”
“No.”
“That's a bit unusual.”
Artemis chuckled. “I'm an unusual sort of pony.”
“Ah, yes. I couldn't help but notice that. I've never met a unicorn who was also a pegasus before.”
“We're called alicorns. There are not many of us.”
“I see. Are you... lonely then?” There was something very sad in the slender stallion's amber eyes.
“Sometimes,” said Artemis softly.
“I know what it is to be alone in the world.” Then Draco shook himself. “But enough of that. You are here. I am here. Right now we are not alone. So let us speak of other things. I have been watching the spinning stars for a long time. The wandering stars in particular intrigue me.”
“Their courses are predictable enough, once one understands the movement of the spheres,” said Artemis.
“Ah. So you ascribe to the Ptoleneighic model then?”
Artemis smiled slightly. His model of the stars was a far truer one than that put forward by his ancient follower. But he had never explained the secrets of their motion to any pony. They were his art, and art should never be explained. “As much as I ascribe to any current model, yes.”
“I feel it has some merit, but is not entirely accurate. Some of the observations of the Minotaur observatories, in fact...” He continued, discussing the movements of the stars, the predictions of astrology, and many other topics as the night waned and the stars they spoke of turned overhead.
Soon the faintest hint of dawn light was beginning to show on the horizon. Artemis was aware of it, of course. He could always sense his brother's sun, if not with the same keen awareness that he had of his own moon. But it was Draco that said, “The dawn is coming.”
“Yes.”
“I must go.”
Artemis nodded. “I as well. But... this night has been pleasant. Will you be here if I return after the sun sets again?”
Draco turned away from him and didn't answer for a long time. Finally, just as Artemis was about to say something, he turned back and nodded. “Yes.”
“Then until tomorrow,” said Artemis as he rose and spread his wings.
“Until tomorrow.”
The next night passed much as the first had. They spoke of the stars, and the moon, and of philosophy and the works of the great scholars of the past. Artemis had seldom encountered another pony so well read and well educated. He wondered, as they spoke, why the other pony was living in this ruin, so far from civilization. But Draco had not mentioned anything of his personal life, so Artemis would not pry.
He found, too, that he was avoiding saying anything that would give away his true nature. It was good to speak pony to pony, and not as god to mortal. Draco did not pry either. Still they once more talked until dawn was near. There were many things to speak of without either pony mentioning their personal lives.
Once more Artemis rose to go. “Shall I return tomorrow?” he asked.
Draco hesitated. He looked away from Artemis, his expression one of terrible conflict. “You... perhaps should not. It may not be safe for you.”
Artemis blinked. “Safe?”
“I... I cannot explain. But it will be very dangerous if you come back.”
“Do you not want me to come?”
Draco tossed his head, his ears twitching back and forth with uncertainty. Finally he said, “I want you to, yes. But you should not. I... I do not want to see you hurt.”
“I can generally take care of myself,” said Artemis gently, hovering on the edge of just telling Draco who he was, and why he didn't need to fear any possible danger here. He compromised by saying, “I am an alicorn. I have magic and wings to defend me.”
“I... suppose. Yes. Well. I won't forbid you from coming then. Just... know that it will be dangerous.”
When Artemis arrived at the temple the next night there was no sign of Draco. Artemis considered going inside the temple to look for him, but in the end he decided he shouldn't force himself on the other pony. So he once more sat beside the base of his statue and took out the pipes. He closed his eyes and began to play. The song this time was warmer, still in a minor key, but not a lament. Instead it was a pean to the night, a hymn to the moon, a celebration of the subtle beauty of darkness.
When he finished and opened his eyes again he saw Draco sitting a few yards away. He nodded simply to the other stallion. “Hello.”
Draco heaved a deep sigh. “Hello.”
Artemis considered asking him what was wrong, but decided against it. He considered too asking about the danger Draco had mentioned. Was the other stallion at risk, being here? But that too was set aside. Draco could bring it up again if he wished, and leave if he wished. Instead he said, “The moon is waning now.”
“Yes. I'll enjoy the new moon when it comes. The stars are clearer on a darker night.”
“Very true.” That was one of the reasons he'd made them, to adorn the empty sky during moondark.
“The stars tonight are in an interesting configuration,” said Draco. “The auguries are quite strange, I don't really know what to think of them.”
Artemis smiled. He really wasn't sure how much faith he put in astrology. Surely if the stars controlled the destiny of ponies, he as the stars' creator would know what those destinies were? But he had no ability to see into the future. Still he fell into the discussion of astrology readily enough, enjoying the conversation.
Draco spoke much as he always had, but Artemis could tell that something was different. He shifted often, moving a little closer to Artemis, and then scooting back again. His ears flicked back and forth a great deal, and Artemis caught him staring on more than one occasion, a strange look in his dark amber eyes.
Eventually Artemis realized what it must be, and felt very dense for not noticing sooner. Draco must be attracted to him. He was obviously worried that his attentions would be unwelcome. Not all stallions enjoyed the affection of other stallions, after all. So when Draco once more moved near, nearer this time than he'd come before, Artemis reached out and put a hoof on his shoulder. “It's okay, you know.”
Draco's eyes went wide and he blinked at Artemis in confusion for a moment. Then he shook his head violently. “It's not okay. You shouldn't... you shouldn't touch me. I told you it was dangerous!”
Artemis' brow furrowed with confusion at the sudden change in topic. Dangerous? But he still patted Draco's shoulder, trying to reassure the other pony. “There's nothing dangerous here. It's all right.” He moved to hug Draco, who was shuddering, his eyes squeezed shut, apparently terrified.
Then Draco's eyes snapped open. Artemis had only an instant to notice that they had changed color. “God forgive me,” said Draco, and Artemis found himself suddenly caught in an embrace that was much stronger than he would have believed possible. Draco's forelegs were clamped tightly around him, his hooves pinning Artemis to him. He lowered his head and put his muzzle to Artemis' neck.
“Ah!” Artemis cried out as pain stabbed through him. Draco had bitten him. Not just bitten either, for as he continued to hold Artemis in an iron grip his muzzle remained pressed to Artemis' neck, and Artemis knew that Draco was drinking. Everything suddenly came clear for him. The strange behavior. The warning about danger. The reason why Draco had been as nocturnal as the moon god himself. Draco was a vampire. A true vampire, a blood drinker.
Artemis shuddered. It hurt. Yet with the pain there was a kind of pleasure as well. A dizzy euphoria that made him cling to Draco even as Draco drained him. He moaned softly. His knees were going weak, he sagged in Draco's embrace. Draco lowered him to the ground, though his muzzle never left Artemis' neck. He bent over Artemis now, his body pressing down on the alicorn's, shudders of some unknowable sensation going through him as he continued to drink.
Artemis felt even more dizzy, pain and pleasure chasing each other through him. He lifted a hoof to brush it across Draco's indigo mane, then let it fall. Somehow it was horrible and wonderful at once, to feel Draco pressed against him as he took Artemis' blood.
Finally Draco lifted his muzzle and rose. He took a few staggering steps, then dropped to sit on the cracked flagstones, his shoulders shaking with sudden sobs. “Oh god. Why? Why...” he whispered.
Artemis blinked, raising a hoof to his neck. It came away bloody. With a low groan he rolled over and climbed to his feet.
Draco's head snapped around and he stared at Artemis. “You live,” he gasped.
“I feel like I've been run over by a wagon,” said Artemis, swaying a little. “But yes, I live.” A series of memories flashed through his mind. Being skewered by a dragon's claws. Being hit by lightning. The full strength of his brother's magic slamming him to the ground with enough force to crush him. The time he'd been thrown into a river of lava. As far as he knew there was nothing at all that could kill him. He shook himself, starting to feel a little steadier. Moonlight still fell around him. He looked up at the moon. It was strengthening him, as it always did, even when it had set. His mane lifted, flowing in the strange lunar wind.
“How?” whispered Draco.
Artemis sighed. “Because I am what I am.”
Draco looked away. “What I am is a horror.”
Artemis came over and sat beside him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “This doesn't end our friendship.”
Draco turned to glare at Artemis with suddenly angry eyes. They were red now, as if tinted by the blood he'd drunk. “Friends? No. I don't want friends. Friends die. Even if I manage to not kill them, they grow old. They grow old and die, all of them. It's better to not have friends. You can't know what it's like to always see them die.”
“I might,” said Artemis sadly. “Let me show you something.” He rose and went to the plinth, with its shattered hooves standing atop it. His horn lit and he pulled the plants once more away from the inscription there. “Do you see what it says?
Draco looked at it. ARTEMIS LVNE AETVRNVS. “Artemis the Eternal Moon,” he said blankly.
“The statue, when it stood here, would have been of me,” said Artemis softly.
“But this temple was already centuries old when it was abandoned, and that was over two hundred years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Who are you? What are you?”
“Artemis, the Eternal Moon, as it says,” said Artemis simply. “Among many other such titles. So yes, I know what it's like to see ponies you care for grow old and die. I have seen it countless times over the centuries.”
“You're a god.”
“Yes.”
“Then why... why sit here with me, debating astrology and astronomy, as if...”
“As if I were an ordinary pony? I am a pony, Draco. Even if I am also a god.” He looked at Draco gently. “Just as you too are a pony, even if you are also a vampire. And you are also my friend.”
There was a long silence. Finally Draco said softly,“I haven't had a friend in a very long time”
“Nor have I.” In the silence that followed he looked up at the sky, though he didn't really need to. The moon was sinking low. Dawn would be coming soon. “The night is nearly spent. But tomorrow is another night. May I return, and talk with you again?”
“Yes. I'd like that,” said Draco. Artemis unfurled his wings. Draco gave him a smile in return, this one a little wider than his previous smiles, showing the sharp fangs at the corners of his mouth.
“As would I,” said Artemis with an answering smile. “Until tomorrow then.”
“Until tomorrow.”
There was no moonlight as Artemis sailed through the night. It was the night of the new moon, the lowest point of his power, so the stars blazed alone against the velvet black of the sky. He folded his wings and landed before the ruined temple with its shattered statue atop the inscribed plinth.
Nopony greeted him. He reached out and touched the carved words softly. Then he sighed and lifted his head to gaze at the sky above. To the north the constellation Draco wheeled around the polar star. He looked at it as it slowly turned for a very long time. “I'm sorry,” he said at last.
“I'm sorry I wasn't here. I could offer excuses, but they wouldn't change what happened. I wasn't here. I could have protected you. I could have saved you, if I'd been here. I am so sorry.” He drew a shuddering breath, and a tear began to trickle down his cheek. “I have... chastised those who slew you, my friend. My... my friend. I have had so few friends. I don't know how to accept that they are not eternal. I've never known how. But I thought you were." He lowered his head then and wept. "I thought you were.”
After a very long time the tears ceased. He wiped the last from his eyes with a wing. “I thought of raising a shrine here. I could build a statue of you to stand on this plinth, and carve your name there beside mine. But that too would crumble. So I will give you the best memorial I can. I will remember you. When these stones are dust, I will remember you. You are written in my stars and in my heart.”
He touched the plinth again, one hoof tracing over the letters AETVRNVS on the stone. He let his hoof fall and reached into his saddlebags for his pipes. Closing his eyes he lifted them to his lips and spilled soft, mournful notes out into the night.
So, as high above the constellations shone down brightly, on the night of the new moon when one could see the stars best, Artemis Lune Aeturnus played a lament for friendship lost.
