Author's Note

I want to thank the kind person who donated some coin to me. I won't release any personal details about this person because, A.) I don't know who they are and B.) I don't think I have their permission to out them. In any case, their contribution saved me from a day of starvation and prompted me to actually get to writing this long awaited chapter.

Next chapter, we go back to the days of Yore and find out a little bit about the man for whose namesake Steve shares. So, who's ready to do the time warp again?

Oh, I also found that WIzard's preview of Earh X. Relevant quote time is coming soon!

44 Confessions: Princess Luna

Celestia’s P.O.V.:

The morning had started out very well. The overnight intelligence briefing had proven rather enlightening, if a little stale. This morning’s breakfast was divine and the coffee was just the right amount of bracing. My retainer, Raven, had procured this morning’s Court Appointment List and it was blessedly short. It looked very much like an excellent morning. I could clear the docket with some expediency and then make for a long lunch, pending any disputes amongst petitioners. Considering the names on the list, I highly doubt that would be an occurrence.

Then I got hit with a surprise. A ledrfladder, one of Lulu’s retainers if my memory serves, approached my retinue. The bat pony was holding a scroll in his wings; upon seeing me, he stopped and bowed. I stopped as well, with the retinue following in turn. I looked upon the young retainer, my recall telling me his name was Waxing Crescent, noting his rather advanced rank of Captain. I began to wonder how my sister’s corps of ledrfladder were being trained and promoted when the young stallion spoke.

“Your Highness,” Capt. Crescent stated, “thine sister hast appointed thee to deliver this missive onto you.”

“Oh, thank you, Captain,” I said, taking the scroll from his wing in my magic.

“My Liege requests thou answer, poste haste,” Capt. Crescent said.

“Does she now?” I murmured, opening the scroll.

Unrolling the formal missive, I see that it’s an antiquated request for tea. It’s rather unorthodox of my sister to use this form, which she knows has been out of favor in The Court for more than six centuries. I must confess that I found myself nonplussed; Lulu has never been one for formality, which confused me about this request. Lulu has always been the more blunt and maladroit. It served us well during the formation of Equestria but was also the cause of a great number of diplomatic setbacks. So my warrior-proud sister was using Courtly Manners? Would wonders never cease?

“You may tell your liege that I shall be in attendance,” I told the young captain, “Day Court has a light docket today and I may just finish up before the noon repast.”

“I shall deliver this news at once,” Waxing Crescent said, bowing, “Your Highness.”

With that, he turned away and flew down the corridor, avoiding the sunlight pouring in from the stained glass windows. I felt sorry for the ledrfladder officer; most of his kind were not well adjusted to being awake during daylight hours. Maybe that is one reason Luna has them operating as her personal guard: the ledrfladder are better suited for nocturnal activity and have no fear of the dark with better night vision capabilities and their ability to project sonar screens to detect insects as well as avoid obstructions while in flight. And that poor dear doesn’t even have the protective filtration goggles on him. I hope Luna intends on giving that colt a raise…

I was prodded by Raven and then I realized that I have a court to attend. I turn back towards my retinue and smile. This is a silent acknowledgement that court is still to be held. The members of my court nod in response and we are underway again. It does take much longer to get to the throne room and see the line of some thirty ponies cued up for entry. Guards are in place to usher these nobles and Canterlot citizens into the grand chamber to see me. I nod to the doorstallion there, a unicorn, and he, along with his partner, marched onward to open the doors magically. The ponies in the cue bow in my presence as I stride past them. In turn, I give them a motherly smile.

Upon entering the throne room, Raven makes a beeline for the court stenographer. Type Ribbon has been a staple at court for the last thirty years. While the mare has gotten on in years, she still smiles and bows as I near. I smile in turn, craning my neck down to muzzle the old mare. I don’t recall my own granddame much, but if she was anything like Type Ribbon, I could consider myself most honored.

I turn away from Type Ribbon to ascend the dias to my throne. My sister’s throne, done in rich velvets of midnight blue and pale gold with gilded silver in the filigree, stands in stark contrast to mine. Though they are of similar heights, my throne appears larger because it is done up in bright golds and rich reds. I sweep a wing over my sister’s seat, a gesture I find myself doing more often since her return, then set down on my throne. Raven is there at my side, clipboard, quill, and an inkwell at the ready. I nod my head to my Sergeant-at-Arms to open the doors. It is time for The Day Court to begin…

For one thousand years, I have attended, and pronounced judgment, over The Day Court. From petty squabbles to land disputes, exploration charters and challenges to the law, I have presided over it all. With my sister returned to the land, I am now relegated to the morning session (with Lulu taking over the evening session,) it is a welcome break in the long tedium that I have come to endure.

Granted, addressing petitioners during Day Court has the potential for tedium. For example, this day: two nobles in contention over the zoning of a lot, The Royal Parliament debating an amendment to The Equestrian Royal Charter, a gift presented to me and my sister from the Ambassador of the Minotaurs (what in Equestria is a motorcycle?) and to round it all off, a formal request from The Equestrian Exploration Corps to chart the Undiscovered West, an area long since left to the imagination since- well, since Mother and Father died.

I should have denied the request, given the memories associated with that region and- humans, but I approved it. Even if The Archmage is the only human here in Equestria, he cannot very well give The Terran Empire a rebirth. Can he? A silly notion, though one I still struggle to answer. Besides, the foothills of Gloom Mountain, beyond Rockville, have some rather interesting geological features that may make for future Equestrian settlements. I may need to have some Royal Guard come along, with Coming Dawn troops interspersed within, to secure any potential human artifacts.

The Royal Archives are stuffed to bursting with all manner of human artifice, the more so to keep some over curious filly or colt from stumbling upon it. Many of these articles are inert, their power sources long since discharged or damaged beyond the capacity of Equestrian engineers to rebuild. As of late, due to what I believe to be the presence of our most recent ersatz citizen, some of these devices are beginning to stir. I wonder if they will detect a human in Equestria again? I highly doubt it. Previous tribes of humans have passed through my- our kingdom and these objects remained inert. That is a line of study for another time.

After dismissing a squabbling pair of nobles over mineral rights to a location already in the trust of the Family Pie (a clan I hope to never cross while their progeny live,) luncheon break is announced. I must see what has my sister in such a mood. And awake during daylight. After court and dreamwalking, Lulu never stays up longer than to have some fruity loops for breakfast along with a nice chamomile tea, then off to bed she goes. Already, my mind is alight with numerous scenarios, but I fear it is the one scenario above all others that is on my sister’s mind. And that worries me to no end.

Luncheon was already prepared by the time I reached the Royal Dining Room; so was Luna, in her regalia and beaming brightly. In front of her is a piece of parchment, a letter, actually. She pours over it, as if devouring every word on the page. A salad is set aside for her as part of her luncheon; she is eating heaping helpings of the dish on automatic pilot. I know of few of our subjects who would have the courage to write the princess of the night, so I am bemused to see Lulu so engrossed in the page’s contents. Then I see a small passage of the missive; the letters are not in Equus. They appear as some form of chained scrawl of a language that I am far from familiar with.

As much as I would not like to break the spell my sister is under, I do wish to eat. The discussion she has in mind has piqued my curiosity, also. So, walking in slowly, to mitigate the sound of my golden greaves striking the marble floors, I make my way to the dining table. My magic was able to slide my chair from the table soundlessly, and thus I sat down. Our porter, Maître De, showed up immediately. I placed an order for pancakes with whip cream, a fruit salad, and a small banana cake. Maître De ran off to give my order. In all that time, Lulu had not removed her face from the letter in front of her and continued to shovel food into her face. Occasionally, she would take a drink of either orange juice or coffee, but otherwise, did not let her concentration slip.

Maître De returns soon after with my lunch and a tea service. He fills my cup with a fine willow bark tea (the better to stave off migraines with,) serves the pancakes and fruit salad I asked for, then departs. I look towards my sister; she is still reading the letter, though she is no longer eating because she has no more food to eat. Her flagon is still regularly drawn to her muzzle. I take a moment to sip some tea, take a few bites of pancakes (ah, the joys of regency!) and then finally address the minotaur in the room.

“Good afternoon, Lulu,” I start, “it’s quite rare for you to be so chipper this early in your day.”

No response. I wait for a few minutes, taking bites of pancakes and fruit salad, but she doesn’t answer me.

“It is interesting that you are receiving correspondence,” I add, “I do not mean to pry, but I do have eyes and ears in the Royal Postal Service. They don’t report anything to me directly, nor do I get specific intelligence about what passes through Postal worker hooves. However, I do get the occasional brief concerning certain traffic that comes through. And yet, I was not made aware that you were in communication with anypony.”

“Anyone,” Luna corrects, “and of course you wouldn’t hear of my pen pal or our exchanges. I, too, have my agents in the Royal Post. Their letters come to me via - let us say, diplomatic channels.”

“Diplomatic channels?” I ask, “with whom, though? The Minotaur, the Yaks? Please don’t tell me you aren’t in contact with the Caribou…”

“No, no,” Luna replied, “and most certainly not. My pen pal is a relatively new ambassador who is a far more affable entity. And, thankfully, one that is not possessed of a giant sized ego.”

“A new ambassador?” I wondered, then it came to me, “you mean The Human.”

“Yes, Sir Steven,” Luna said, “and I really wish you wouldn’t hiss the term ‘human’ like unto an epithet. It is beneath your station to do so.”

“Forgive me, Lulu,” I responded, “even though Sir Steven has not shown the tendency for violence that I would expect from his fellow humans, yet I still have my misgivings.”

“Sir Steven did not give the order to kill Mother and Father,” Luna spoke tersely, “neither was he the one who planted the explosive that ended their lives. It has been twenty-five millennia since then and while I can understand your misgivings, Sir Steven should not be the target for them.”

“Is this what you wish to speak about?” I asked, “I have watched your mood improve ever since that performance in Ponyville during Nightmare Night. Does it have something to do with Sir Steven?”

Luna finally put down the letter and turned to me, “Indeed, it is. Especially after ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ play he put on. It was rather ingenious, with the use of props, magic, and technology to create such a fantastical world.”

“I would have gone with macabre,” I added, “but it was rather imaginative. To hear Sir Steven tell it, stories like that are very commonplace back in his Cradle World.”

“Indeed,” Luna replies, “as Sir Steven tells it, his people have an industry dedicated to the art of entertainment. Though, he does admit it feels more akin to, how did he say it? Ah, yes, ‘pan et circenses.’”

I swallowed a small draft of my tea before parsing what Lulu had told me, “‘Bread and circuses ?’”

”I believe so,” Lulu confirmed, “it is funny how often the phrases the humans use sound so similar to ancient Roaman terms. ‘Tis queer; methinks this could be a product of parallel development. But how…”

“Is this really a day for an etymology analysis?” I asked, “though I do have to admit there are some curious overlays.”

“Indeed, curious,” Lulu stated, “and I know from what communication passed onto me by the Elements and certain private citizens from Ponyville and the demesne beyond is very favorable to the performance. And, unlike most of the Canterlot nobles, I do not believe that Sir Steven is operating as an agent of chaos. Apparently, a significant number of the Old Guard are following the lead of Prince Blue Balls…”

“Blueblood,” I correct.

“That’s what I said,'' Lulu replied, “I am of the mind that he is someone in dire need of companionship; I can sympathize with his plight. From what he explained to me in our mail exchanges, he was never very sociable because of his mental disabilities. It appears that human civilization makes pariahs out of those who are not psychonormative. He was regarded as an undesirable and an ‘other.’ It harmed him in ways that we- I- am intimately familiar with.”

“Luna-”

“Even so, he and I are adjusting to a new era. And we are healing. You need not worry about my mental health.”

“Oh?” I asked, “and what are you doing to alleviate my worries?”

“I have taken the advice of Sir Steven and Lady Shywing; I have taken on a councilor of psychiatry and have regular meetings with them. If you have ever wondered where I go on Tuesday afternoons two hours before I hold court, you now know why. I have also taken to befriending members of the staff and even a few Canterlot denizens. Efforts are - well, to quote Sir Steven, ‘mileage may vary.’”

“Well, at least our resident human seems to be influencing you in a positive way,” I say, “and I am proud of you for seeking out help and friendship. Despite your prolonged absence from Equestrian society, it seems you are adjusting.”

“Maybe not quickly,” Luna admitted, “but Doctor Slip assures me that what I am doing is going along at a perfectly healthy pace.”

“Well, that is good to know,” I reply, “so, to what purpose did you request this unusual repast meeting?”

“Well,” Luna began, “Sir Steven and I have been coordinating our schedules.”

I was in the middle of sipping some tea when my sister said this, so I nearly choked on my tea.

“Co-coordinating your schedules? Whatever for?”

“Yes, and I’m hoping to have Sir Steven visit Canterlot on a less than official visit.”

“A date?!” I cry, “You. Are. Going. On. A Date?!”

Luna, who was busy reading another of the local human’s missives, stops, peering over the parchment in her arcane grip, and replies, “Hmm, I guess so.”

I shake my head in utter disbelief.

“And may I ask why? I have it on good authority that there are more than a few courtiers seeking your favor. So, why The Human?”

“The courtiers, dear sister, are gold diggers,” Luna explained, “courting me and becoming one of my consorts is but a stepping stone for their ambitions. Or their fortunes. And those few hoping to improve their fortunes are already fairly wealthy. Sir Steven has no such pretense and I do not believe he ever will need such pretense.”

“‘Gold diggers?’” I ask.

“Aye,” my sister answers, “ponies that seek bits without any effort, typically through a marriage of convience. There would be no love, no respect, and no respect. I have no desire to be engaged in such a way. Whilst I do not know if Sir Steven feels the same way, I do wish to pursue him in that way.”

“Sister…” I murmur.

“Tia,” Luna begins, “as co-regent of this nation, I ask that you respect my decisions, whether political, social, or personal. I have never, or I believe I have never, interfered with your life and the myriad of decisions you have made regarding our nation or yourself. I hope that you shall do the same, though history has shown that there is precedent for your interference.”

“Lulu…” I sighed, “I am- to be honest, I’m uncomfortable with your choice of paramour, but given how my- let’s call it poor reaction, to your previous courtship was one of the factors that resulted in your transformation into Night Mare Moon. I vowed, after banishing you to your moon, that I would not ignore your concerns but neither would I meddle in your affairs. I don’t think I’ll understand your choices, Faust only knows what you’re thinking, but I shan’t play plot punter against you. I- don’t think I’m ready to give my blessing to this union, but I will never interfere with your plans.”

“I thank you, sister,” Lulu said, “while your blessing would be welcome, I have not deluded myself into thinking I may need it. Even so, should you find a consort that is unorthodox, you shall find in me a staunch ally.”

“I’ll- keep that under my crown,” I reply, “ugh, I just know this will start rumors amongst the courts, let alone the citizens of Canterlot.”

“Do you fear the gossip rags, Sister?” Luna asks me, “Let them report what they may. I have learned that denying the facts to such muckrakers, the worse the rumors they will report. If worse comes to worse, we can arrange a press conference to address those rumors.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that,” I breathe, “though I’m certain that it will in one fashion or another.”

“All the more reason why I must pave the way for Sir Steven’s first, official visit to Canterlot,” Luna stated, “we have assigned him the role of AMbassador to the Arcane Empire, so it would not be ill-advised to grant him a full diplomatic visitation, would it not?”

I opened my muzzle to protest, but my memory recalled all the other visitations of the lone human to Equestria’s capital city; these informal and often unofficial jaunts had no particular state endorsements. Luna had managed to one up me in brinkmanship.

“Touche, sister,” I reply, “no state sponsored visit has been made thus far. And more than a few ponies know of your bipedal resident. A national visit to the capital would help out quite well for ourselves and the ponies in general.”

“Indeed,” Lulu agreed, “and even you must agree that everypony needs a friend.”

Nonplussed, I say, “you’ll find no disagreement with me on this but do you mean to introduce The Human to more ponies as a means of- what, social networking?”

Luna nodded, adding, “Sir Steven has told me of the kinds of socializing his people do. Something called ‘Facetome?’ And another called ‘Tweeter?’ I am unsure what these are. Sir Steven tried to explain the concepts to me but the terms he used hold no meaning to me. I would say that humanity has developed a means to make contact with others from a considerably greater range than we Equestrians have.”

“Are humans that far apart from each other?” I ask, “so that no one family has any neighbors to socialize with?”

“Neigh,” Luna replied, “the exact opposite. Sir Steven explained to me that his people have cities with populations on par with Manehattan, albeit on a much grander scale.”

“How much of a grander scale?” I ask.

“From memory, Manehattan covers some two hundred square acres of space,” Luna said, “Sir Steven was uncertain of the total acreage of one his world’s largest city, strangely referred to as ‘New York City,’ has well over one hundred thousand square acres of coverage, covering no less than five counties. And the central hub of this metropolis is called, confusingly, ‘Manhattan.’ Sir Steven believes that name originates from an indigenous people native to the region…”

“Humans don't do anything by half, do they?” I retorted.

“I haven’t seen everything humanity has done,” Lulu said, “but I have to believe that humans do so as a testament to their tenacity. I mean, they don’t have magic. At least, in Sir Steven’s cradle world.”

“You speak of The Human with such… fondness, Lulu,” I said, “I am having some trouble discerning whether you are speaking of him in terms of admiration- or infatuation.”

Lulu didn’t reply, but a subtle blush spread across her muzzle. This was becoming something I would need to take action on. I know I shouldn’t interfere with my sister’s attempts to fraternize with others. Even so, I didn’t want my sister to fall down a rabbit hole. I was walking the line of protective matriarch and caring sister. Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown…

“You haven’t spoken much with Sir Steven much, have you, Tia?”

The question threw me for a loop. In my own opinion, humans are too dangerous to be allowed any kind of parlay with even the most base Equestrian citizen, let alone royalty. What my sister is suggesting is something I would never even consider. The Human has atavistic tendencies which frighten me to no end. During our last interaction, The Human was cordial if a little terse. Even so, I have my misgivings about his introduction into Equestrian society proper.

“I’ll be honest, Lulu, I have no real intention of speaking with The Human,” I replied, “and I find it difficult to imagine how a conversation between myself and him would come out. I’m still unsure how he interacts with my protege.”

“From the letters Princess Twilight has sent me,” Lulu said, “Sir Steven is- well, to be honest, rather blunt. Blunt, profane, and sarcastic, that is Sir Steven. Even so, I would have no greater companion than him. And even Lady Shywing has had the most complimentary of his behavior. And, contrary to some of what I remember of the humans prior to my exile, Sir Steven is very hardworking. Miss Apple has been gushing about his work ethic.”

“Such high praise,” I remark, “and from no less than three of the Element Bearers speak so highly of him. But Lulu are you certain that this won’t blew up in your face?”

Lulu threw me a dour look, closed her eyes, and let a snort blow through her snout.

“‘I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me,’” Lulu then spoke, “true words from the wisest of - men.”

It was plain to me, in spite of my reservations and horror, that Lulu has fallen hard and fast for The Human. My vow not to deliberately interfere with Lulu’s choices has come back to haunt me. For better or worse, I shan’t intervene. I just hope that this doesn’t come to a bad end.