Philomeanie

by Skywriter

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Slice of Life, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Philomena, Nightmare Moon
Length: 10180

Luna and Philomena: a hate affair for the ages.

Luna and Philomena: a hate affair for the ages.

A thousand years ago, Celestia's pet harrier chases a broken Nightmare Moon through the Everfree Forest. A thousand years later, a much-diminished Princess Luna attempts to feed and take care of the elderly phoenix. In neither case does it go particularly well. Set during Season One, slightly before "A Bird in the Hoof."

Now with a Spanish translation by Spaniard Kiwi!

Published 2014-03-01 14:30:08 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-01 14:30:08 UTC

Philomeanie

* * *
Philomeanie

Jeffrey C. Wells

* * *

Bruised, lost, and broken, the Nightmare of Luna tore through the dense and twining foliage of the Everfree Forest like a shooting star fallen to earth. Her once-sparkling mythrallite breastplate hung uselessly from a single improvised pig-hide strap, three of her four glittering hoof-boots had been claimed by the Everfree's dismal swamps, and her ruined helmet chafed the hide of her poll to bleeding and scraped discordantly against the edges of her blackened horn.

There had been three of them this "morning," the last three of a thousand-strong army which had broken like a wave against the unyielding walls of Everfree Castle and been subsequently cut down like so much wheat by the forces of her despotic sister. Three left. At mid"day," she had pitted the Colossus against a vanguard of Celestia's finest pegasus centurions; the hideous undead reptile had given what little remained of its life to ensure her escape this far. A few hours later, the Schattenriss had fallen to a bright angel of the Wind Dukes. Her sister had called in a six-hundred-year-old favor to the lords of elemental Air, and they had responded by sending a djinn of such immense size that even the mighty Schattenriss could not withstand it. Her shadowy daemonic lieutenant had been torn to ribbons as she looked on helplessly, fumbling in vain with the abjuration that would have banished the djinn back to the heavens from whence it came.

Now she was alone, a general without an army, a queen without country or subjects. Her horn was near to cracking from strain, and while she was a peerless manipulatrix of the mysteries of the Stream—not even her hated sister could stand against her in a horn-to-horn test—her powers were nearly sapped, the dark gift of the Nightmare Entities almost totally expended.

Even with all this, however, the moon remained in place. The eternal night that gripped Equestria still endured, the darkness remained triumphant. Nightmare Moon would not, could not, lower her charge now. Too many lives had now been spent for it to all end in surrender.

No. She would be victorious. All that was required was that she hold for a few more hours, until the lunar perigee. Under the light of the close, bright moon, she would invoke the Nightmare Entities once more, and they would replenish her forces, supply her with new armies to test against the beleaguered defenders of Everfree. Everfree would not be able to avert her charge a second time, not now. Victory was inevitable...

...unless Celestia were to awaken the Elements of Harmony, sleeping in their vault beneath the floor of the castle. While it was inconceivable that Celestia would actually stoop so low as to turn the Elements on her, this was war, after all. She had to play it safe, to remain hidden for a few more hours, until her promised reinforcements arrived. In just a few hours, Equestria would be hers, forever. She was so close.

Wheezing with effort, Nightmare Moon raised herself out of the foliage onto a rocky outcropping that provided a narrow vantage point of distant Everfree Castle. From here, she could still see the war-fires dancing across the burning wreckage of her siege engines, the wheeling and darting shapes of pegasus legionnaires finishing off the scattered remnants of her twisted, inequine forces. It was oddly beautiful, in its own way.

Then, from the tallest tower of Everfree, there came a shimmering light. Nightmare Moon's eyes narrowed. Celestia. Celestia Sol Invicta. Her sister, clad in glinting golden barding, her great soul-mace Phosphorus cradled in one hoof. The sun-tyrant anchored herself against the stones of her fortress, arched her neck, and let loose a thunderous, barbaric cry across the plains of battle and the twisted forests beyond.

"Luna!" thundered Celestia. "Thou canst not remain hidden forever! Thou must yield! Thou must end this accursed night!"

"Never," whispered Nightmare Moon, setting her jaw, feeling oddly for a moment like the little filly who once spoke this same word while hunkered down in a snow fort, vowing to fight until the last (or at least, until the last snowball). She shook off the memory. Little Luna was gone, now; only the Nightmare remained. The Nightmare was cold. The Nightmare was brave. The Nightmare could not be bullied. The Nightmare would stand firm against anything her sister could throw at her—

And then, Celestia made an exultant gesture at the sky, and Nightmare Moon's heart turned to water at the sight of what her sister had loosed. More terrifying than the legions that had taken the Colossus, more terrifying than the djinn that had unraveled the Schattenriss, the creature Celestia unleashed spread its blazing wings and soared into the cold night air, its cinder-bright eyes surveying the forests below. This was Celestia's personal harrier, her dreaded war-phoenix Philomena, and Nightmare Moon knew from experience that the bird would not rest until she had found her quarry.

The weary would-be empress clambered down from her rock and into the safety of the forest, but she knew it would not remain safe for long. Philomena was hunting, and what the phoenix hunted, she caught.

The prospect of holding for a few more hours had suddenly become very complicated, but not yet impossible. Nightmare Moon was a scholar at heart, and she was knowledgeable in the ecology of the phoenix. It was time to show her elder sister all that she had learned.

* * *

"It is called the 'Kiss of Life'!" said Princess Luna, excitedly. "A most miraculous advance in medicine, indeed! Apparently, if a pony were ever to stop breathing, one need simply place one's mouth over that pony's muzzle and blow life-giving air into her lungs until proper medical treatment can be obtained! I have learned so much of your modern ways since my return from my thousand-year exile, big sister!"

Celestia Sol Invicta yawned over her tea, stifling the gesture with one gold-booted hoof. "Ah," she said, eventually, around the last vestiges of the yawn. "Ah. That's absolutely wonderful, Luna."

Luna tapped her forehooves together. "I bore you," she said, eventually.

"No!" said Celestia. "No, not at all, Luna. I'm merely feeling more weary than usual from my celestial duties tonight. Please excuse me."

"Thou'rt most excused, of course," said Luna. "More milk?"

"Please," said Celestia. "If you don't mind."

Luna nodded, scrunched up her face, and took a deep breath as a chilly-but-friendly cobalt glow flickered into feeble life around both her horn and the milk pot. The pot rattled pitifully, raised itself a centimeter above the crisp linen tablecloth, and then clattered back to the table's surface.

Luna said a most un-princesslike word.

"It's fine," said Celestia, her own golden magic beginning to sparkle around the pot. "I can just—"

"No!" said Luna. "I will manage!" She nodded more fiercely, scrunched up her face more profoundly, and took an even deeper breath. Again, the cobalt glow rattled at the milk pot, vibrating it in place up and down.

"Luna?" said Celestia, eyeing the milk pot.

"Will... get this..." Luna muttered.

The rattle grew more pronounced, shaking the pot from side to side. Dribbles of milk began sloshing out of either side.

"Luna, it's all r—"

"Let me do this, Sister," said Luna, huffing breath through her nostrils.

Celestia sat back onto her cushion, waiting patiently. Three more minutes passed. Celestia passed the time scenting the air of the private Canterlot picnic-garden and marveling serenely at the soft beauty of the arbor of delicate pink flowers surrounding them. They provided a sense of tranquility that was admittedly slightly marred by her little sister kicking and grunting and digging her hooves into the table in a valiant attempt to pass her the milk.

Eventually, Luna managed to successfully raise the left half of the pot by four inches, but unfortunately, she did not achieve the same level of success with the right half of the pot. This had the net result of upending it, spilling milk all over the table. Luna again said a most un-princesslike word, rose from her cushion, grabbed the pot in her teeth, and physically carried it over to her sister's place.

"Thank you," said Celestia, graciously, dribbling the last few dregs from the bottom of the pot into her tea and stirring it briskly. "Your telekinesis is showing improvement."

Luna grumped her way back to her cushion and sat, staring sullenly at her plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. "Oh, yes," she said. "I am much improved. On the scale of yearling fillies, I daresay I am most advanced!"

"Now, Lulu," said Celestia. "Don't be like that."

"Don't be like what?" said Luna, looking up at her sister. "Don't be like I currently am? I am trying, dear Sister! With all my heart! Dost thou think'st I like being this way?"

"I don't have a single clue what you're talking about, Lulu," said Celestia, gathering a forkful of roast cinnamon sweet potato and marshmallow.

"I am tiny again!" said Luna, thumping the table, causing the casserole dish containing Celestia's supper to clatter against its trivet. "I am thousands of years old and I have a squeaky little voice and when we meet face-to-face my head is at the level of thy breastcollar! I pick up sandwiches with my hooves to eat them! My mane is made of hair, dear Sister!"

"You have a perfectly beautiful mane, Luna."

"My mane once swirled with the arcane energy of the very welkin," said Luna. "Whilom did I wake in the evening and marvel quietly at the scintillation of the stars in its depths. Now I wake and marvel at how tangly it is."

"I keep telling you, a little conditioner would do wonders."

"It gets in my eyes and is all stingy," said Luna. "And before thou speakest more, I refuse to make use of this so-called 'foal's shampoo' to quell the unpleasant burning sensations, as I am no such thing!" She spent a moment glaring down at her plate. "Also, the crusts on these sandwiches displease me," she muttered.

"Of course you aren't a foal, Lulu," said Celestia, setting down her fork. "I realize how frustrating this is, but you must have a little more patience."

"Hmph."

"The darkness that once claimed you did more than simply hold you in its thrall. It taught you new ways of doing things, encouraged you to rely on its power instead of your own. It wanted you to forget the old ways, to make you utterly dependent on it. Now that power is gone. You're just a bit out of practice, is all."

There was a brief silence. Luna huddled into herself, appearing now even smaller than before.

"Sister," she eventually said, toying absently with a water-glass. "If I cannot move even a milk pot, how will I ever again move the moon? How will I ever resume my place at thy side?"

Celestia smiled a tiny, pensive smile, punctuated by a sip of her tea. "We are alicorns," she said. "We grow with our duties. In these past few weeks I have kept you sheltered, treating you as delicate and fragile. Perhaps it was wrong of me to wait for you to feel better to give you responsibilities. Perhaps you require responsibilities in order to feel better."

"I have but one responsibility that truly matters to mine heart," protested Luna. "The moon is my charge and my destiny, and it is furthermore what my cutie mark telleth me. And whilst thou hast managed both the sun and the moon for a millennium of my exile, I cannot now shift even a simple piece of tableware, much less the heavens."

"Perhaps... you could take over one of my other responsibilities?"

Luna shuddered. "I am not fit to take thy place in Court, nor am I yet prepared to beat back the incubi of the swevens as I did of old."

"I would not ask you for the former. As for the latter... I'm sorry, what?"

"The incubi of the swevens," said Luna, blinking.

Celestia shook her head.

"Thou mean'st to tell me that the incubi of the swevens have gone utterly unchecked in my long absence?"

Celestia Sol Invicta smiled lambishly, which is a bit like smiling sheepishly except much smaller. "Perhaps?" she said.

Luna snorted. "'Tis a wonder our subjects remain in any state of any mental well-being! One would think that they would be a crowd of worrying, neurotic wretches by now."

"Yyyes," said Celestia, glancing to one side. "Yes. About that, Lulu..."

Luna held up one tiny hoof. "These matters must wait for another night. As I said, I am not prepared to resume those duties now, no matter how great the need. Nor am I prepared to adjudicate matters of state. What does that leave?"

"You could... take care of the royal pet," said Celestia. "Sometimes I am very tired upon raising the moon and am in no mood to perform Philomena's necessary evening care."

Luna pondered this for a moment, chin on hoof. "Yes," she said, after a moment, her face brightening. "Yes, this is good. I shall assist thee by caring for thy pet, in thanks for thy good management of my beloved moon." The moon-princess smiled. "I am pleased to note that thou hast honored thy faithful pet of so many years ago by dedicating a namesake to her in this way."

Celestia laughed, mellifluously. "Oh, no namesake," she said. "It's just good old Philomena."

It took Luna a moment to process this statement.

"Wait," she said. "She still lives?"

* * *

Nightmare Moon peered out from the concealing brush and looked out at the forest proper. Glorious Philomena was on the wing, soaring on thermals of her own generation. Occasionally she would stop, hover, and direct a dazzling arc of light toward the forest floor. The Nightmare's eyes watered even at this distance from the glare. Close up, she knew it would be utterly debilitating. She had to find better cover.

No easy task, she mused. The phoenix's natural food source was the candlenut, a seed so full of natural oil that it would occasionally erupt into spontaneous combustion while still on the tree (a process that improbably promoted the survival of the species as a whole, if not any one individual plant). A phoenix's eye was exquisitely trained by the forces of time and evolution to pick up even the tiniest blooms of heat from an incandescent nut, no matter the distance, and this had been honed further by her dread sister into a heat-sense that could locate living quarry beneath ten cubits of solid stone.

The only solution, mused Nightmare Moon, was to conceal herself beneath twenty cubits of solid stone. She slipped out of her brush blind and began searching for a likely cave, but the search eventually proved fruitless. The caves of the Everfree were home to dragons and star-beasts and other such terrors, and while at her full power she could dispatch any one of them with a little difficulty, she knew that in her weakened state she would be no match. An ignominious end, indeed.

Very well, then, she thought. If I cannot find a concealing cave... I shall make a concealing cave! Advanced glamours such as shape-shifting and transubstantiation were now utterly beyond her, but she could still probably whip up enough basic raw aetheric force to carve a bolt-hole into stone. Cautiously waiting until the phoenix's attention was well and truly elsewhere, she levered herself up into a low tree with the assistance of her injured wings and searched the immediate area for any evidence of a rock that might meet her needs. With a sense of grim satisfaction, Nightmare Moon noticed a huge hill of sarsen-stone jutting out of the forest less than half a league distant. Her horn sparked in anticipation as she dropped from the tree and began cutting her way through the undergrowth in the direction of the monolith as the beautiful and deadly phoenix soared above, inspecting a comfortably-distant patch of forest from on high. Nightmare Moon permitted herself a tiny, humorless smile as she stumbled and skulked through the clutching bracken. Safety, and thus victory, was close at hoof.

* * *

Princesses Luna and Celestia walked placidly through warm evening air along one of the immaculately-groomed paths of Canterlot Castle's formal garden. Everywhere, the colorful birds of the garden were going to roost. Here, a flock of perky little bluebirds retired to a cluster of ornamental birdhouses; here, a red-chested robin settled down into its little cup nest; here, the garden's resident flock of flamingos began raising one leg apiece to prepare for a night of carefully-balanced slumber. With displeasure, Luna noted the absence of her beloved owls and nightjars, and she was about to protest when she remembered that a few weeks ago Celestia had indeed asked if she had any suggestions for the menagerie, and to be contrary she had sullenly requested a buzzard. And yes, there it was, annoyedly poking its scabrous crimson head out of a hole in a hollowed tree. Celestia had taken her words in good faith, even though she had doubtlessly known that they weren't delivered with same, and this fact picked at her mind, an irritating little itch that she wasn't able to scratch.

She pondered this as she walked along, her pearl-clasp saddlebag bouncing lightly against her side. It weighed her down very little. All it contained was a supply of candlenuts, a small bottle of vinegar solution, an outdated issue of the Equestria Daily, and a half-empty box of Wheatios breakfast cereal, which her sister had implored her to bring along for inscrutable reasons. She felt very protective of the box of Wheatios, as it had been the last box in the castle pantry and she was very much looking forward to a breakfast of wheaty cereal later before retiring for the morning. She had even prepared a bit of imported cream and some nice ripe blackberries for the occasion. Surely, her sister did not expect her to feed the surely-by-now decrepit phoenix with them? They were not oily enough to support her plumage, and furthermore, they would be wasted on a bird. Birds, Luna believed, did not have a sense of taste and would not appreciate the delicate malty flavor of a good bowl of Wheatios.

"Now, do not be startled at Philomena's appearance," said Celestia, as they walked. "She's overdue for renewal. We simply need to keep her in good health for a few more days until she sheds all her feathers, bursts into flame, and is revivified."

"What happens if the bird perishes by some other means before its renewal?"

Celestia pursed her lips. "We don't like to talk about that," said Celestia. "But, never fear, Luna. Despite everything, Philomena is fundamentally well and there is no reason to believe that she will not reach renewal just fine. You just need to follow the instructions on the list I gave you. You've got the necessary supplies?"

Luna nodded. "We have nuts for its dinner, a bottle of vinegar to clean its dishes, and some sheets of newsprint to line the bottom of its cage. The one thing we do not understand is the box of Whea—"

Luna stopped short as her sister's booted hoof clapped down over her mouth. She blinked, startled.

"We do not say that word out loud," said Celestia, softly, lowering her hoof.

"What?" replied Luna. "'Wheati—'"

Again the hoof. Celestia's smile was a tiny line. "The birds in the menagerie," she said, "are absolutely mad for the cereal you carry. They know the appearance of its box, the sound it makes as it rustles against its inner liner, and they especially know its name. Use it for bribes, at a last resort." Her rose-violet eyes darted furtively to the left and to the right. "Tell nobird here that you have it."

Luna blinked. "Surely not," she said. "Surely, this is another of thy pranks, Sister."

"Luna," said Celestia, looking her deeply into her eyes, "this is my Serious Face."

Luna regarded it. It was, indeed, her sister's Serious Face.

"Very well then," she said, trying to shake the chill from her spine. "Let us be off. Where is the creature's enclosure?"

"Just around this bend," said Celestia, ushering Luna past a curve in the path and toward a fancy little aviary-house with a gabled roof coated with varnished gold leaf. "Philomena's cage is just inside that door. And don't worry. Just follow the instructions, and you'll be fine. But do be careful—even in her old age, Philomena is a mischievous bird. Be stern with her if you need to."

"I shall, my Sister. Now hie you off to bed. I shall care for your pet tonight."

"Good evening, Luna," said Celestia. "And, thank you." The sun princess gave her a simple sisterly kiss on the cheek and then departed, passing through the evening garden like a zephyr.

Luna turned back toward the aviary-house and frowned a little. She was glad of her sister's faith in her and was looking forward to the job, but a tiny marble of trepidation rolled freely about in her spleen, never seeming to come to rest. There was a certain measure of bad blood between the bird and herself. She was not certain how long phoenixes' memories were, if Philomena would remember their last meeting and would be extra-testy as a result. But, still and all, Philomena was a very old bird, and Luna was an alicorn and a full Princess of Equestria. There was limit to how two-sided this match would be.

Taking a deep breath, Luna ducked inside the door and prepared to face one of her oldest foes.

* * *

The soft sarsen-stone yielded quickly to Nightmare Moon's intense magical assault. Each blast left her weaker than the one previous, but this was aetheric force-generation, the easiest trick of unicorn conjurors everywhere. She kept her head low, her beam starved to a tight and wicked edge of cold blue. If Philomena saw even a glimpse of her light, the bird would indicate her position to Celestia of Everfree, and Celestia would immediately cross the astral gateways from her high tower to this very spot. Even in her weakened state, Nightmare Moon believed that she might be able to take Celestia hoof-to-hoof; unless her sister wielded the Elements, of course, in which case it would mean the immediate end of her dreams for a lunar imperium and, probably, the end of her life as well.

She drew strength from her anger as she worked, lancing blast after blast of force into the stone face. There was much to be angry about. Her worthless troops, now scattered and broken on the field of battle. Her worthless lieutenants, all dispelled or captured and entombed in the deep gemstone mines of the Canterhorn. Her self-righteous sister, beloved by all, guardian of the precious light. And perhaps most of all, her would-be subjects, the foolish little ponies who toiled and played in the day but could not spare one whit of appreciation for her beautiful night. Ungrateful, she seethed, tearing another cavity into the rock. Stupid, ungrateful peons who never stopped to enjoy the glories and abundances of the Dark. After all that she had tried to do for them, all the ways she had pleaded for their favor, they gave nothing in return but scorn.

Another lance of energy. Another great hollow in the sarsen-stone. Deeper and deeper she dug, cursing the ponies of Equestria with every coruscating blast. Yes. Once she ruled the nation, Nightmare Moon would teach them all the beauty of her works, even if she had to cudgel them awake and yank their faces skyward by the lips to do so.

In the fullness of time her labor was complete, and the Nightmare's muzzle twisted in a rare moment of self-mockery as she regarded her hornwork. Her bolt-hole was complete, but drawing strength from her anger had had the unintended side-effect of rendering her a bit preoccupied. As a result, the small domed cavern she had eventually drilled into the stone was much larger than it would have needed to be. She frowned, clapping her hooves agitatedly against the stone floor and looking up at the dome she had cut into the rock. The upper layer of stone was still probably thick enough to confuse Philomena's vision, but just to make sure, she risked a quick and furtive perimeter inspection, measuring the size of the hill compared to the size of the cavern she had dug underneath it. While she crept, she spared a glance or two at the sky, but Celestia's harrier was nowhere to be seen. Ha. Searching some other quarter of the forest entirely now, most likely.

Her satisfaction rising, Nightmare Moon finished her perimeter and returned to the entrance, ducking her head and forcing her way underground. With ten feet of solid sandstone between herself and the sky, there was no chance that Celestia's little pet could ever find—

Philomena Phoenix, strong-beaked and resplendent in red and orange and gold, sat in the very center of the Nightmare's bolt-hole, perched on a sizable chunk of fallen rubble. The accursed bird looked up at her from mid-preen.

"Awk," said Philomena, quietly.

Nightmare Moon scowled in startled rage. "So," she said, her eyes narrowing. "We meet again."

* * *

Inside the door of the aviary, Princess Luna fumbled around for the magelight switch. Once upon a time, it would have been a simple matter for her to use her horn to illuminate the aviary's climate-controlled interior with all the light of a hunter's moon over fresh snowfall, but she no longer trusted even the simplest of her charms, and thus, technology. Huzzah.

"So," murmured Luna, finally finding the switch and clicking it on. "We meet ag—"

She blinked.

"Oh," said Princess Luna, despite herself.

The creature resting on the barred floor of the large filigreed flight-cage before her was... hardly describable. She looked like a long strip of pink horripilated flesh, dotted with the occasional ragged red feather and punctuated by the grotesque bulge of a distended crop near her throat. Her feet were scaly and mite-covered and her head lolled and trembled on a skinny, palsied neck as she hoisted herself up to look at the new arrival, her cataracted eyes focused halfheartedly on an area slightly to the left of Luna's shoulder.

"Awk," said Philomena, quietly.

"My," said Luna. "The years have not been kind to you, have they?"

"Awk," repeated Philomena, absently, falling over again like a rubber chicken.

Luna gave a wry little chuckle. "Very well, then," she said, closing the door of the aviary behind her to prevent the bird from escaping. "Let us do this."

* * *

"Very well, then," spat Nightmare Moon, regarding the war-phoenix with clenched teeth. "Let us do this."

"Awk," said Philomena. She darted like a bolt of raw fire for the gap in the stone leading out to the forest. The phoenix's puckish pride would be Everfree's undoing, thought the Nightmare. Had the bird merely signaled her location to Celestia from above without stopping to engage her here in the bolt-hole, Philomena would already have succeeded in her task and the war would be over. But no, the temptation to be roguish was just too great, wasn't it? Now Philomena was left with a desperate dive toward the cleft in the rock, and Nightmare Moon needed to stop her, at all cost. As the bird whooshed past, shedding fans of flame that singed the hairs of her neck, the Nightmare turned and focused a lance of power at the precarious stones above the entrance gap. The gambit was successful; the rocks above shattered and tumbled to the floor, obscuring the gap completely. Philomena drew up short, beating her wings furiously, and then recovered and banked smoothly back around to the far side of the cavern.

"Ha," said Nightmare Moon, chuckling, taking a few wary steps toward the damnable bird. "So. The game begins."

* * *

"'Step One,'" said Princess Luna, fumbling with the bird-care scroll. "'If she is willing, play the Up-Up Game with her.'" Luna blinked. "Odd's fish," she said, "I am not familiar with this amusement."

Luna scrolled down, rather literally. "Aha," she said. "Here it is described: 'Sit on your rump with your two hooves before you. Encourage Philomena to climb up one hoof, and then the other, alternatingly, to give her a little climbing exercise.' Simple enough."

Trepidly, Luna approached the cage. Philomena's head flopped loosely from one side to the other as she struggled to achieve visual contact. Once she had done so, the few bedraggled feathers that remained on her head—the last remnants of a rather proud crest—fluffed themselves in something that might be interpretable as a friendly greeting.

"Awk?" said Philomena, grinding her beak.

"Well," said Luna, unlatching the cage door with one hoof and seating herself before the opening. "It seems you have decided to let bygones be bygones after all. Either that, or you do not remember me at all. T'would not surprise me; we are both of us much changed."

"Awk," said Philomena.

Luna extended a hoof to the ailing bird. "Here is to the healing powers of time and oblivion," she said, waggling it invitingly.

"Awk," replied Philomena, regarding the pastern of the princess's hoof.

She chomped down on it. Hard.

* * *

Nightmare Moon bellowed with rage as the phoenix's brass-like beak carved a chunk of flesh from her foreleg. "So, it is to be blood then?" she said, sneering. "So be it! My thirst for ruin is not yet sated, and your only real strength, bird, is in your mistress my sister! Buried here alone with me, you stand no chance against my powers!" The Nightmare focused a bright needle of aetheric energy into a familiar stable shape. "Behold," she said, brandishing the blue-black shard of force before her in her telekinetic aura. "Behold Aphelion, the fearsome blade of my will! Behold your undoing, creature!"

Philomena lifted her wings, ready to take to the air again. The blade crackled. The Nightmare lunged.

* * *

"Back!" said Luna, holding the little cactus-wood perch she had unscrewed from the wall of the cage between herself and the bird. "Stay back!"

Philomena bobbed and weaved like a snake, scuttling across the linoleum floor to which she had tumbled after her initial attack. The phoenix's tremulous bearing was now quite gone, replaced by a vicious, mean, animal intensity. Luna found herself scrambling crabwise backward until she was wedged up against the corner slop-sink. Her hooves struggled for purchase against the slick porcelain as she worked on bringing herself back to all fours.

Meanwhile, Philomena had not relaxed her assault, feinting and lunging whenever Luna made a move toward either her or the cage. Obviously, this was not a tenable situation. Philomena could not be allowed to roam free, but she was showing no indication of wanting to head back to the cage. In better days, Luna would have simply seized the bird with her magic, deposited her back into the cage and shut the door, but after the fiasco with the milk pot, she doubted her ability to do even so simple a task; and even if she were to be able to summon up the energy, she did not trust that she wouldn't accidentally snap the bird's twig-like neck or something.

Luna looked down at the hissing little creature, weighed her options, and then secured the perch in the crook of her hoof. Slowly she advanced, holding the perch before her like a shield.

"Now, Philomena," she said, ingratiatingly, trying to ignore the sore spot on her pastern, "you shall be a good little bird. My sister did say that the Up-Up Game should only be played if you were willing, and you have adequately expressed your unwillingness; thus, when I approach with this perch, you will clamber sedately upon it and we will put you back in your cage and continue with your care and feeding. Is that acceptable?"

The angry hissing subsided a little, which Luna judged to be a good sign. She took a few more tentative hoofsteps forward, then extended the perch to Philomena. The bird made a couple halfhearted head-bobs, and her gaze never left Luna's pastern, but eventually, she stepped up onto the perch with a minimum of fuss.

Luna let out her breath, holding the bird in front of her on the perch. "There now," said Luna. "Was that really worth such a commotion?"

Philomena looked up at her and blinked.

Then she hunched up her body, lifted what little remained of her tail, and made filthy green bird-mess all over Luna's other forehoof.

"Gyah!" exclaimed Luna.

The bird bit her again. Barely containing her rage, Luna half-walked, half-flew over to the waiting cage, chucked the perch inside, and slammed the door. Breathless, she rested for a moment against the front wall of the cage, eyeing the phoenix crossly.

"You," she said, leveling her hoof at Philomena, "are a very, very wicked little b—"

In the blink of an eye, Philomena scuttled across the cage floor and nipped Luna square in the cutie mark, right where her flank touched the cage bars. Luna yelped, leaping away. "Wretched animal!" she cried out.

* * *

"Wretched animal!" cried out Nightmare Moon, circling the domed chamber of rock, lashing out with Aphelion in wide haymaker arcs. "Stay still!" Philomena was, of course, heedless. Nightmare Moon's telekinesis was quick, but the phoenix was quicker, and she watched with growing frustration as the airborne phoenix deftly pirouetted and somersaulted around every one of her mad swings, hardly seeming to break a sweat in doing so. Aphelion rung against and cut deeply into the surrounding sandstone with every blow.

Stroke after stroke failed to connect, and eventually, the psychic strain of manipulating her field began to drive needles of pain into her already-aggrieved skull. She lowered her guard for a moment, hoping that the moment of breath would allow her to recover; and in that moment, Philomena swooped in close, spread her wings directly before the Nightmare's face, and exploded into a blinding nova of pure white. Nightmare Moon stumbled backward, breaking her telekinetic grip on Aphelion and causing the blade to tumble to the stone floor. Bereft of a direct connection to her magic, the force-blade sizzled away again into its component ribbons of magic and was no more. Now disarmed, the Nightmare shielded her eyes with her wings as Philomena promptly let loose another breathtaking burst of light, and then another, and then another.

* * *

Princess Luna shielded her ears with her wings as Philomena let loose another ear-splitting burst of noise, and then another, and then another.

"'Step Two!'" shouted Luna, over the din. "'Change Philomena's paper!' One questions how t'would be possible for there to be any mess on her paper at all, Sister, so copious is the mass of guano on our forehoof, but apparently, birds such as Philomena are very, very good at producing mess! Is this not correct, Philomena?"

The bird responded by squirting another liquidy green dollop half onto the paper beneath the cage bars, half onto the floor outside. Amazingly, her verbal assault did not abate even for a second in doing so. Wincing against the terrible noise, Luna gingerly craned her neck forward and grasped the edge of the soiled paper with her teeth. Like a missile, Philomena dove from her perch and began assaulting the just-out-of-reach paper as it passed beneath her cage.

"Awk!" shrieked Philomena. "Awk, awk, awk!" Bellowing at the pain in her ears, Luna whipped the paper out of Philomena's reach and onto the floor with her teeth while pushing the fresh paper under the cage with her hooves. In her haste to remove herself from the dreadful noise, the princess got the paper a bit crooked, and it crumpled, sticking itself up through the floor-bars of Philomena's cage. Philomena leapt upon the offending edge of paper, dragging the entire sheet up into the cage proper and savaging it with her beak, and confetti that had once been news rained down like sawdust thrown up by a speed-bore bit.

Luna sensed an opening. Her enemy thus distracted, she took the opportunity to shove the entire Media section of the Daily underneath the cage, barely keeping it out of reach of the rapacious bird. "Awk!" shrieked Philomena again. "Awk awk awk awk awk!"

"Awk awk awk awk awk!" shouted Luna right back, slamming her forehooves against the bars of the cage and sticking her face right up next to it, carefully keeping her muzzle just out of swiping distance. Philomena lunged at her again with her beak, to no avail.

"Ha!" shouted Luna, pointing triumphantly with one forehoof.

Philomena jetted a stream of bird-mess directly into the princess's open mouth.

* * *

Nightmare Moon's breath rasped in her chest as she sunk to the ground, kneeling against the cold earth. Wisps of smoke rose from her overtaxed horn. Nearby, Philomena tired of her lazy circling and alighted on the rock at the center of the cavern.

"Awk," said Philomena, smugly, worrying at an out-of-place primary feather with her beak. The Nightmare regarded her with undisguised hate.

"So," wheezed Nightmare Moon, upon catching her breath. "This is what we are left with. Trapped here underground, away from the light of the moon, I cannot perform the ritual that will end this bloody war once and for all. Trapped here underground, you cannot do your..." The Nightmare waved one hoof absently. "...exploding signal flare thing to bring my sister crashing down upon my head like a ton of corn-fed bricks. You cannot carve open this cavern, and I dare not carve it open lest your flare be completed and my sister summoned ere I'd have chance to scribe my first pentacle."

The lunar goddess sighed. "Oh," she said, "how I hate stalemates."

* * *

Princess Luna blearily regarded item three on her checklist, making another futile attempt to spit the taste of bird-mess out of her mouth. "'Step Three,'" she said. "'Rinse and refill Philomena's water dish.'"

Luna looked up and regarded the cage, equally blearily. Philomena's cage had been cunningly engineered with two tiny little doors in front of the food and water dishes so that one might access them without opening the large main door (thus risking another phoenix escape). The little food and water doors were far too small to accommodate the entire phoenix.

Unfortunately, they were just about the right size to accommodate the phoenix's entire beak, which was, in Luna's eyes, the very worst part of the phoenix. Philomena evidently knew this about herself. The bird sat hunched and gargoyle-like on the perch nearest the water dish, ready to strike at any bit of exposed flesh. It seemed to Luna that it might be possible, using only the tips of one's durable and bite-proof hooves, to flip the latch on the water door, creep the water dish out of its cavity inch by inch, and then slam the little door back shut before the abominable creature would have a chance to react.

"Possible" was not quite good enough, in Luna's book. She needed a distraction.

* * *

"I know that thou'rt more than a dumb beast," said Nightmare Moon, slipping into the familiar mode to avoid the overly-formal and off-putting "you." "I know that there is an intelligence behind those beady eyes, that thou canst understand what I am saying to thee. All that would be required for us to bring this interminable war to a close would be for thee to remain silent whilst I emerge from this hill and complete my summoning."

The Nightmare paused, searching for even a glimmer of comprehension in the bird's countenance. Finding none, but still not losing hope, she pressed on. "I would fain appeal to thy better nature and tempt thee with thoughts of an end to all this bloodshed, but experience has taught me that thou'rt not dissuaded by blood. In truth, thou revelest in it."

Nightmare Moon smirked. "So, Philomena. What is it that moves a phoenix's heart? Gold? Jewels? A fair young cockerel with a magnificent crest to share thy roost with?"

Philomena cocked her head at the Nightmare, but said nothing.

"I have heard it told," the Nightmare continued, "in the legends of old Saddle Arabia: in the twilight of your years, you gather a nest of the most exquisite woods and rarest spices to rest in whilst you are reborn in fire. Such a thing must cost a pretty penny. Ought not a forward-thinking bird such as thyself be preparing for the future? Can Celestia offer thee as much as I can, crouched there in her crumbling castle?"

Silence, still, from Philomena. The Nightmare took a step forward.

"Riches," purred Nightmare Moon. "Comfort. Satisfaction. The Entities will shape the world into thy playground, bird, lacking only my say-so. What is thy wish, Philomena? What is thy greatest... desire?"

* * *

"Look look looky here!" said Princess Luna. "Cereal!"

Philomena was instantly galvanized at the sight of the big orange box. Her neck went ramrod-straight and her eyes focused on it with hawk-like intensity.

"Awk," burbled Philomena, her pupils expanding and contracting excitedly.

"Yes," purred Luna. "Yes, this is what you want. Ceeereal. My cereal. My very tasty cereal which I was very much looking forward to eating before bed, but if you are a good bird and remove yourself from the water dish, I will drop a tiny piece of it into your food bowl for you to enjoy. How doth that sound, my little monster?"

"Awk!" shrieked Philomena, throwing herself madly against the cage bars. Luna blinked; her sister had not exaggerated the bird's passion for Wheatios. It made her feel a moment of kinship with the thing. Carefully, Luna rummaged around in the box with both hooves and eventually emerged with a single tiny rust-brown ring of mashed and dried wheat. Working delicately, as though with hazardous chemicals, Luna poked the very edge of the ring through the bars and into the food dish.

Philomena was on it like a shot, grasping and crunching. Wasting absolutely no time, Luna threw open the water door, grabbed the dish and tossed its contents into the slop sink. She was in the middle of giving the bowl a vinegar rinse when Philomena finished the cereal and began clambering across the cage bars toward the open water door. Luna clocked the cold tap open, practically breaking it, and filled the bowl from the ensuing gush. Lunging for the opening, she slammed the water dish home and re-latched the door just inches ahead of Philomena's angry beak, and lo, task number three was complete.

Luna let out a sigh of relief. Almost finished, now. All that was left was #4: "Deposit three candlenuts into Philomena's food dish." Foal's play. Buoyed by her recent success, Luna checked to see that Philomena was still on the water dish, then she looked down and removed the candlenuts from her saddlebag, opened the food door, and—

—Philomena was there. It was impossible! She had taken her eyes off the bird for only a second! Startled, she dropped the candlenuts into the dish and tried to jerk her hoof away, to no avail. Philomena's beak dug deep into the moon-princess's pastern, and this time, she did not let go.

* * *

Nightmare Moon howled in agony as the war-phoenix latched onto her broad black neck, just below the criniere. Too close! She had sidled too close to the bird in her attempt to sway its loyalty! Seizing the demon-fowl in a telekinetic claw, she sucked in breath, and shouted with the Voice of the Mountain—

* * *

"Let go!"

Philomena sat bolt upright.

"Urk," she said, clutching one featherless wing to her chest.

The bird tumbled from her perch and fell with a clang to the cage bars below.

* * *

Silence filled the sarsen-stone chamber. Nightmare Moon warily regarded the still form of the phoenix, lying crumpled against the wall where she had thrown it.

The bird was still. Its brilliant plumed chest did not move.

Problem solved, thought the Nightmare, grimly, if true. For she'd known and hated Celestia's doted-upon grape-fed pet since their fillyhood together, and she knew the bird's reputation as an inveterate fool and prankster. It would be very much in her idiom to feign incapacity to trick the Nightmare into sundering the hill prematurely. Then she would give her signal, Celestia would come, and that would be that. No, t'would be best to make certain...

Picking her way carefully through the rubble, Nightmare Moon approached the phoenix, charging her horn for a killing stroke.

* * *

Luna's irises shrank to the size of pennies. "No," she said, looking down at the stricken bird. "No, no, no, no, no!" Mere days away from the phoenix's renewal and she had startled the stupid bird to death! With panicked and trembling hooves, she tore open the main cage door and lifted Philomena's body out to the floor. The bird was unnaturally still.

A voice from Luna's long-vanished past bade her take caution; in her unbridled panic, she rushed straight past it. Philomena! What would Celestia think of her now? She had practically begged her sister for a single tiny responsibility, and what had she done with it? She had killed Celestia's oldest pet! Celestia would banish her from Equestria (again)! Or throw her in a dungeon (again)! Or throw her in a dungeon in the place that she banished her to (again)!

Luna took a few shallow breaths, the wheels in her head running white-hot thinking of the miraculous advances in medicine she had learned of in the books she'd been devouring since her return. The "Kiss of Life"! Of course! If she could just keep the phoenix's vital spark flickering until a healer could look at her, everything would be fine! That young upstart Princess Cadance, for instance, was skilled in health and healing magic. Could the Kiss of Life possibly work outside E. caballus? If there was even a chance...

Yes, she decided. Yes, she had to try. Luna sized up Philomena's beak, shied away from it for a moment, berated herself for shying away, and then lowered her mouth far enough around the phoenix's beak that it made a passable seal with the skin at the base. That done, she began to breathe life-giving air into the phoenix's lungs—

Philomena bit her. On the tongue.

* * *

The slash of the phoenix's beak narrowly missed Nightmare Moon's eye. She screamed, the deadly energies she'd been gathering around her horn grounding out harmlessly into the sandstone.

"Awk, awk, awk," chuckled Philomena, circling far overhead, near the ceiling of the domed chamber. "Awk, awk, awk, awk, awk."

"Fiend!" cried Nightmare Moon. Rage took her guts in its claws and twisted. Snarling, her inequine fangs fully exposed, the Nightmare began flooding her horn with every last scrap of her remaining mystic potential, focusing the lot of it into an intense, earth-shattering beam of coherent force.

She let go. The aetheric energy surged upward, on a direct collision course with the bird, but at the last instant, moving more quickly, than the Nightmare had ever thought possible, Philomena darted away one last time and the beam impacted the stone hill above them. The surge carved through the rock like an awl and roared into the sky, bursting into a bright flare a thousand feet above the surface of the hill.

It was a bright flare that could be seen as far away as Castle Everfree.

* * *

Luna yowled in pain, waving her head madly back and forth to try and dislodge the unimaginably horrible bird from her tongue. Eventually she managed it; Philomena went flying through the air, sailed straight through the open door of the cage, and impacted the far wall with a dull clank. Luna charged the door and threw the latch.

"Awk, awk awk," chuckled Philomena, grotesquely. "Awk, awk, awk, awk, awk."

"Insolent wight!" roared Luna, loud enough for the entire garden to hear. "Is this the thanks I receive for my ministrations? I have given you food! I have given you water! I have cleaned your cage and changed your filthy paper! I have even shared with you my precious Wheatios!"

The last word rumbled and echoed across the landscape. One dreadful moment of silence passed, and then there came a flittering and a rustling as of flocks upon flocks of birds rising from slumber and converging on a point, as though drawn by the siren call of a single word.

Luna's eyes went wide as she looked toward the aviary door.

* * *

Wind whipped the Nightmare's corona of a mane as the smell of ozone and fresh grass filled the air. The atmosphere prickled with the raw energy of an opening astral gate.

"No!" cried Nightmare Moon, backing away and looking frantically about the room. She lifted her wings and tried to bolt for the hole she'd made in the roof, but the hole was too small and her wings too abused to keep her aloft in any case. She crashed, piteously, to the floor.

"You!" she seethed, focusing her wrath at the phoenix, who had returned once more to the same chunk of rock, where she sat, placidly preening her blazing feathers. "You! You did this to me!"

* * *

"You knew this was going to happen!" said Luna, her eyes fixed on the aviary door, backing away from the sound of the approaching avian hurricane. "You wanted it to happen!"

* * *

"I hate you!" screamed Nightmare Moon. "I will always—"

* * *

"I have always hated you!" Luna shouted.

* * *

"Until my dying breath—"

* * *

"Until my dying day—"

* * *

"I—"

* * *

"—hate—"

* * *

The astral door opened with the sound of a thunderclap, and there, resplendent in golden armor that carved the atmosphere about itself into rainbows, stood Celestia Sol Invicta.

The Elements of Harmony whirled about her imposing form like the ninth circle of Tartarus.

There came a brilliant light.

* * *

The hurricane of wings ceased. Terrified of what she would see, Luna cracked open the door.

She was transfixed by hundreds and hundreds of pairs of beady black eyes. Every last bird in the menagerie, from the bluebirds to the buzzard, was gathered outside the door. Luna found the flamingos to be particularly terrifying.

"Wheat-i-os," said a mynah, with perfect clarity.

They charged.

* * *

Bruised, lost, and broken, Princess Luna stumbled through the manicured foliage of Canterlot's formal garden, searching for the gateway out. Her once-pristine saddlebags hung awkwardly from a single un-torn strap, three of her four glittering hoof-boots had been lost to a particularly nasty ornamental hedge that she had tried to leap, and her ruined box of Wheatios chafed at her heart and caused her to seriously question just what in blazes her older sister was doing keeping birds of such vicious temperament around.

She had emptied the box for them. She had had no choice. It was either her or her breakfast, and her quick hoof with the cereal had allowed her to escape the melee basically unscathed.

But still, she was cereal-less. This fact bothered her more than she thought it ought to as she struggled to remember the way out of the gardens. She was a Princess of Equestria. She was one of only three in existence. She was a model of beauty, grace, and decorum.

She was a model of beauty, grace, and decorum, who also had no cereal. There was no use denying it: it was important.

"Ungrateful," she muttered. "I only wished to help. I only wished to do well by her. And how doth she repay me? By mocking me! By scorning me! By being—"

Luna stopped short, blinking. Then, she sagged.

"—exactly like absolutely everypony else," she finished.

Princess Luna trudged on.

* * *

An embarrassingly long time later, Luna remembered that she could fly, and, once clear of the ground, the way back to Canterlot Castle became obvious. Banking on the stiff breezes of evening, she turned towards her home.

Immediately upon arrival, she treated her thankfully-superficial wounds with supplies from her medicine cabinet, and indulged herself in a long, hot shower-bath.

She took a long walk around the deserted corridors of the castle, listening to her hoofsteps echoing against the hard marble floors.

She played a board game against herself. She won. She also lost.

And then she lay in bed, staring up at the tiny diamond stars that decorated the vaulted ceiling of her bedchamber, clutching her throbbing pastern and resting beneath the scratchy woolen blanket of unresolved stories, waiting for morning to come.

After many hours of this, Luna squared her jaw, rose from her bed without a sound, trotted out to her private flight-deck and took to the sky.

* * *

The garden menagerie was quiet again as Luna touched down upon the soft, impeccable grass. A light shone out from inside the aviary-house; in her panic to escape the dreadful cereal-devouring avian mob she had neglected to extinguish the magelights. With nary a whisper, she slipped inside the building.

Philomena was there, slumbering peacefully on her perch. The water had been drunk and splashed in and generally enjoyed, and one of the now-smoking candlenuts had been gnawed down halfway. The ancient bird swayed gently back and forth, deep in the hold of her own tiny, pleasant dreams. Occasionally she would emit a peaceful little snore.

Princess Luna of Canterlot looked at the sleeping bird.

She looked, and she remembered.

* * *

A thousand and some odd years gone, a tiny peach-colored pegasus colt played in a field of sun-drenched grass that existed only in the garden of his own mind. He leapt as he played, and as he leapt he dreamed that gravity had no hold over him, that the merest flick of his tiny hooves could send him airborne. His wings had not yet grown and could not support his weight, not here or in the waking world, but like all his tribe he loved and was beloved by the wind and the air and the light, and he found his utmost joy in the simple act of motion.

Unseen and unnoticed, just over a low rise of green, there slunk a beast of a hundred eyes. He was called the Beast of a Hundred Eyes. (The incubi had little need for the subtleties of names.) The joy of a carefree soul was delightful food to the toad-like creature, and he could think of nothing but devouring the bountiful harvest that lay just on the other side of the ridge, leaving nothing but anxiety and terror in his wake. The Beast of a Hundred Eyes was positively salivating at the prospect, and it made his current frustration all the more keen.

"Go back," said Princess Luna of Everfree, resplendent in her night-dark regalia, as she dug her hooves into the soft earth of the colt's dreaming, staring down at the troublesome incubus in the manner of a cutting horse. "Back to the swevens with you, cur. This foal rests under my aegis tonight."

The Beast of a Hundred Eyes spat venom and took a single, menacing step toward the moon-princess. With a crackle of force, she summoned faithful Aphelion from the Stream and leveled the sizzling blade at the incubus's throat.

"Back," she repeated.

The Beast of a Hundred Eyes hissed, and wiped away drool. "You cannot protect him forever," he gurgled. "Your sister grows strong with the praise and adulation of your subjects, while you remain forever in the darkness, withering and dwindling."

The words were crushing, not because they had any particular gravity in and of themselves, but because they were easily thrown onto the enormous pile of similar thoughts that already weighed heavily on the young princess. Luna stiffened her lip, bearing the burden on her back, as she always did.

"This may be, monster," she said. "There may come a night when my strength fails me, when I cannot defend this realm, when you and your ilk will be allowed to run roughshod over the souls of our little ponies."

Aphelion's hum grew to a keening wail. She touched the blade to the incubus's flabby chin.

"But," she said, "not this night."

Howling and cursing her name, the Beast of a Hundred Eyes vanished back into the swevens and was gone.

Luna watched the little colt at play for a long time, after that. In dreams, his tiny legs never tired. For one brief, mad moment, she pondered revealing herself to him, letting him know everything she had done for him tonight, basking in his attention...

...but...

...no. This was clearly a sun-dream, and the little colt was in love with the feeling of warmth and light. Her manifest presence in this dream would change the character of it entirely, and that was something Luna was loath to do, because the little colt's dream was...

...perfect.

Just as it was.

* * *

Princess Luna whispered the same words now that she whispered on that night, so many years ago:

"Even though thou might never fully appreciate what I have done for thee," she said, softly, "it still matters that it was done."

The thought filled her with warmth. And, as the last stars of evening began quietly winking out, Luna dimmed the lights in the aviary and departed without a sound, closing the door silently behind her.

In the darkness of the aviary, Philomena Phoenix opened one eye.

"Awk," she said, self-satisfied.

* * *

Back at the castle once more, a yawning Princess Luna wandered on down to the pre-dawn kitchen to see what she might throw together for breakfast before turning in for the morning.

She found a note from her sister on the big cutting-board table.

Lulu,

I noticed that you took the last box of Wheatios to help you with the bird care. I know how much you favor them, so before retiring last night, I donned an illusory disguise and popped out to the corner store to buy you a new box. Adventures and misadventures too numerous to detail here ensued—I'll tell you all about it over high tea!—but suffice it to say, there is a fresh new box of cereal in the pantry for you. I've marked your name on it to make certain nopony else takes it. Enjoy, and, see you this evening.

Love,
'Tia

Face all aglow, Luna threw open the pantry doors and yes, there it was, an entire box of Wheatios, just for her. She squealed in a very un-princesslike fashion, retrieved her blackberries and cream from the icebox and subsequently enjoyed the best bowl of cereal she had ever eaten.

She did sort of wish that her tongue weren't all swollen from bird bites, but it was a minor point.

Feeling immensely, overwhelmingly, radiantly happy with Equestria and all the creatures in it, phoenixes included, Princess Luna brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, and went to sleep for the day.

When she awoke that evening, her pajamas no longer fit. She rolled out of a bed which had once been too large for her but which was now just right, and looked down at a long pair of legs whose coat had changed from an uninspiring periwinkle to the deep indigo blue of dreams. Effortlessly disrobing using only the power of her gleaming horn, she rushed to her vanity and tilted the mirror to see herself better.

Her breath caught in her throat.

In the mirror she saw the face of Luna of Everfree, Luna of Equestria: stern, sleek, long-muzzled, kind-eyed and dark, framed all around with a sparkling corona of stars in place of a mane. It was like looking into the face of an old friend. With a wellspring of joy bubbling up in her heart, she wheeled about and galloped out the door, off to the dining hall to meet her sister.

"Something wonderful," she said as she ran. "Something wonderful has happened."

Author's Note

Dedicated to my own little psychotic bundles of avian loving, Oscar and Fan. Special thanks to horizon, GhostOfHeraclitus and SR Foxley for the beta, AugieDog for impelling me to finally write this idea down, and Lady Grey for reminding me about the proper use of the word "thy."