BOOK I: First Quarter
1,100 years before Twilight Sparkle’s arrival in Ponyville and the Reconcilation.
Chapter 1:Mare Vaporum (Sea of Vapors)
It all started with the sandwich.
Princess Luna, immortal alicorn and co-ruler of the land of Equestria, opened one eye and immediately squeezed it shut again as the unwelcome sunlight of full day struck her gleefully upon the face. We really should get those drapes repaired.
She rolled over underneath the coverlet, the smoothness of the material whispering against the cobalt fur that covered her body, and yanked the edge of the blanket up over her head, shutting out the light. Settling herself once more, one hoof tucked up under her chin, she began drifting back towards the sleep that still waited nearby with its welcome embrace. Too early to get up.
A low rumbling from her abdomen intruded, and her eye slid open again unwillingly. “Thou hast to be jesting with us.” The words, spoken aloud but muffled by the covers, made her ears twitch. She kicked a hindleg irritably, and the traitorous coverlet slipped down again, unmasking the upper portion of her face and letting in the damnable sunlight again. Uttering a groan, she risked peeking out with one eye again and looked at the softly ticking clock that sat on her bedside table. 12:47. In the afternoon. Thou art seriously jesting with us now. Her mind wandered momentarily, wondering if Discord had something to do with it, but their malevolent cousin had been imprisoned in stone centuries earlier. The memory of her skipped lunch last night came forward, and she sighed in resignation. Usually she was punctual about such things, almost to the point of obsession, but she’d been working on repairing a particularly complicated constellation that had been in disarray, and it had taken her almost the entire night to get it right again. One mis-scheduled supernova, and her night had been shot. The star’s glorious death had been startlingly beautiful, though, and she wondered idly for a moment if anyone had commented on it. She ought to check with the royal vizier when she—
The emptiness in her stomach complained again, much louder this time, and she threw her hooves up into the air, sending the coverlet flying. “Fine! I yield to thee! Let us fill thy emptiness so that we may get at least some sleep this day.” She rolled to one side and slid from the bed, her jaws widening in a bone-cracking yawn. Something light and quick, then.
She ran a forehoof through her sleep-tousled forelock, idly watching the interplay of the sunlight as it shone through from behind her, the light turning to a deep blue as it passed through the ephemeral material of her mane and formed a dark pool of color on the white sheets. Luna debated on the trouble of making herself at least somewhat presentable, but the thought of combing out her mane and tail was not something she felt like dealing with at the moment. A glance at the rack on the wall that held her tiara and chestplate decided her. We are not going to hold court, just to procure a snack. Even the shoes seemed too much trouble. Besides, she was in her own home, in her own castle, shared with her sister and responsible to nopony else. Was not the edifice itself named The Castle of the Two Sisters? Running through the whole rigmarole of getting dressed just to go eat something and then come back to bed and reversing the entire process was ridiculous. Especially since she would have to repeat it in six hours when she rose to bring on the night after her sister had put the sun away for safekeeping. Thus it had always been for centuries, ever since they had come of age and taken up their duties as custodians of the land of Equestria.
Blinking, Luna snapped herself out of her reverie; she had been dozing off again just looking at the light blue crested shoes that hung neatly on their pegs before her. Soonest begun, soonest done. She stretched idly, then shook herself, emitting a reflexive whinny at the pleasant sensation. Turning, she paced over to the door, hearing the soft thump of her bare hooves on the rug.
We really did not need those shoes. We should do this more often.
Her horn glowed softly as she opened the door and strode out into the hallway, unmindful of the Sun Guards who stood sentinel duty outside her chambers as they snapped to attention. She turned left instead of her usual right, and went down to the end of the hall to a small staircase that led down through the central spire of the main castle tower. Nicknamed “The Servants’ Way” by those who primarily used it, it gave access to several different areas that were less decorative than the Main Hall or the Royal Court, but served functions just as vital.
The clicking sound of her hooves followed Luna as she descended the staircase past the castle laundry, the princess nodding to one of the chambermares as she passed with a packload of linen. Another flight down was the break room for the servants, a small place they could call their own and escape from the piercing eye of the royal court for a small space of time and relax. Luna pointedly never looked in on anypony in this particular room; the servants were loyal and worked hard at their jobs, and she felt they deserved their privacy. If they felt the need to vent about anything, they could come here and set down their burdens to those that understood them and could offer comforting advice. Luna could appreciate this; she provided a similar service as part of her nightly duties, albeit it was of a more profound nature than agreeing about what a slavedriver the head butler was.
Halfway down the next flight of stairs, the pleasant aroma of fresh baked bread brushed across her nostrils, and Luna took a deep appreciative breath. The kitchens were down here, and her stomach rumbled again in anticipation as she reached the landing and pushed open the door leading to the rear of the bakery. The smell of bread intensified at once, and she stopped in the doorway, closing her eyes, her nostrils flaring as she drew the scent in. “Oh, that is lovely.”
“Highness!”
Luna opened her eyes to see a straw-colored pony with cooks’ whites and a tall chef’s hat perched precariously atop his head heading toward her. “Bun-Bun! Whatever art thou preparing that smells so delicious?”
He laughed at the pet name she always used (and only when nopony else was within earshot) and shook his head. “Milady, tis merely preparations for lunch. The castle stands on strong stone, but I do think it runs on soft bread more often than not, n’est pas?” Bon Appetit arched an eyebrow at her and gave her a curious look. “Mademoiselle is up at an odd hour. Are you quite well, milady?”
“We are quite well. We did, however, make an omission last night due to our duties and neglected our evening meal. Hast thou something we make partake of, at least to settle our stomach?” Luna offered him a wan smile. “We really are tired.”
Bon offered her a worried expression. “My lady works too hard. You keep doing this, Princess, it’s not at all good for you. Your sister would—”
“My sister would lecture both of us until we starved,” Luna stated, cutting him off. Seeing his crestfallen expression, she softened her tone. “We apologize, Master Chef. Our hunger and fatigue has made us unseemly.”
“Not at all, Highness.” He offered her a smile and turned away, beckoning. “I’m sure I have something that will hit the spot.” Bon trotted back over to the wooden prep board he had been working at when she had entered. “Just have to finish up here and I’ll get you something tres’ excellent, I promise.”
Luna’s ears perked as she followed him over. “What are thou crafting, then?”
“Crafting? Hardly, milady.” He chuckled. “Merely a sandwich. “Peanut butter, banana and hay bacon. I could make this in my sleep.”
Luna’s muzzle twitched. She was not overly fond of bananas; the fruit left an odd taste in her mouth which often took hours to get rid of, but she was hungry, and she could sleep through the cloying aftertaste. “That would be fine, Bun-Bun. We would not trouble thee for something complex at this hour, anyway.” Her stomach rumbled agreeably, and she reached out for the sandwich.
To her surprise, the pony slid it out of reach. “Oh, no, milady! This one is for Princess Celestia. Your sister is holding morning court, and requested a snack to refresh her. Tis’ made to order, you know. Fear not, I’ll have this done in a trice and will see to your needs myself.” He smiled. “Whatever your heart desires, shall be my command.”
“Our heart does not hunger,” Luna replied irritably. “Tis our belly that cries out, and we are most tired. Come, give it over, and make our sister another, or have one of your ‘prentices do it. This is a course unseemly for a master chef such as thou.” She reached out for the sandwich again, but the other pony again pulled out of reach.
“Princess Luna, please.” Bon Appetit's voice was low. “This was made for your sister, especial, and she is waiting as we speak. Let me finish and serve her, and then anything you want, I will prepare with my own hooves.” One of the serving colts poked his head through the door at the far end of the room, and Bon nodded at him. “Any longer and I risk her wrath.”
Luna blinked, staring for a moment, then lowered her forehoof. “Certainly,” she said, her voice suddenly brittle. “Heavens know my sister would part thy head from thy shoulders were her precious lunch delayed.”
Bon glanced at her, his ears drooping as he realized the measure of the alicorn’s darkening mood. “Highness, I only meant—”
“Stop thy prating and get about thy duty, servant.” Luna’s tone was cold and even. “Our sister awaits. Or is her need less now than it was a moment before?” She flicked a forehoof at him dismissively. “We shall serve ourselves, as it seems best.”
The head chef opened his mouth again, then closed it, realizing the futility of the situation. He offered her another confused, worried glance and then picked up the finished sandwich and placed it on a plate which lay ready nearby on a gold-plated tray. There was a pale blue flash from underneath the white toque the pony wore, and the tray levitated up into the air, surrounded by an aura of the same coloration. It jittered slightly, then steadied, floating off toward the door that led toward the main hall where Celestia was waiting, with one troubled unicorn following it.
Luna stood, watching Bon through narrowed eyes, unaware of the low gritting sound her teeth were making as they ground together tightly. The soft midnight blue shimmersilk of her tail flicked sharply, and there was a momentary flash from the horn atop her brow. An answering flash briefly lit the tray Bon Appetit was carrying, and then faded away again. It was an ageing spell, a very minor one, something usually used by low level apprentices to help speed up the processing in the wine cellars. Neither Bon nor his assistant appeared to notice, and the two vanished into the room beyond, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind them.
Luna turned, shooing the junior cook that had approached her away with a flick of her forehoof. Her horn flared alight again, levitating one of the long, serrated knives from a nearby rack and slicing off two pieces of the freshly baked bread that lay on the counter. She floated one over to herself, pressing it lightly against her muzzle and inhaling the scent again.
Oh, lovely.
The ingredients that Bon Appetit had been using were still laid out neatly, and she availed herself of them, applying the peanut butter liberally on both slices of bread. It was the crunchy kind, too, the one that Celestia adored and Luna despised, but she used it anyway. She could have asked one of the servants to fetch the smooth, creamy kind that she liked, but no. No. This sandwich was special, wasn’t it? Oh, so special. The hay bacon went on next, three slices carefully laid out, and she broke off the small ends that poked out over the edges of the bread and munched on them thoughtfully. If you didn’t break them off, the damned things would drop onto your lap or on the floor, and hay bacon was way too tasty to waste like that.
Luna’s horn brightened again, and a banana floated out of one of the tubs that hung overhead, settling down before her. A flick of her magic and the annoying yellow peel was gone, the pale whiteness of the raw fruit hanging before her eyes. She levitated a smaller knife into place and sliced the fruit in half, then sectioned it lengthwise, laying the pieces into place carefully.
This is rather amusing, she mused absently. We really should prepare our own meals more often.
No, that wasn’t quite right, was it? This was just humdrum manual labor. No, the entertainment...the the entertainment was in the anticipation, wasn’t it? That was the spice that made the meal all the sweeter. Bon Appetit might be a master chef, but Luna thought she knew a bit more about spice than the unicorn did right now.
Luna laid the knife to one side, and settled the halves of the sandwich together, peering at it closely before nodding. Nice and neat, nothing hanging annoyingly off to one side or threatening to slide off and plop on the floor in an unsightly mess. This was perfect. The soft jingling sound of magic filled the air as her creation lifted up before her, floating in the air, and then held there, poised.
There was a muffled exclamation from the other side of the door leading into the chambers where Bon had vanished, followed by the clattering sound of diningware crashing to the floor. A clear cry of horrified disgust floated through the closed wooden portal, followed by several shouts. The young colt who had been assisting the head chef appeared, pushing the door open with his rump as he backed into the kitchen, and Bon Appetit’s voice could be heard for a moment.
“...terribly sorry, your highness, I’m sure I checked before—”
Luna bit down on the sandwich that floated before her, feeling the delightful crunch of the hay bacon under her teeth, the salty sweetness of the peanut butter on her tongue. The softness of the banana spread over her palate and she closed her eyes, chewing blissfully. This tasted simply divine.
She thought she would sleep rather well after this.
“Luna, I’m really disappointed in you.” Celestia’s features were as dismayed as Luna had ever seen them. “Did you have make the banana rotten like that? Bon was horrified!”
“He should have been. That was our intention.” Luna paced slowly alongside her sister, looking straight ahead and deliberately refusing to make eye contact. “He refused us. A lesson was called for, and we delivered it.”
“At my expense as well as his.” The white-coated alicorn shivered involuntarily, her muzzle drawing down into a moue of distaste. “That tasted horrid. I spat the thing out without thinking. On the captain of the guard, no less.”
“Stalward Shield?” Luna chuckled softly. “We should have liked to have seen the look on his face. Tell us, sister, is he capable of more than one expression?”
“Luna!” Celestia came to a halt, her tone sharpening as she glared down at the smaller alicorn beside her. “You embarrassed all of us, and humiliated Bon Appetit in front of the entire court. What sort of lesson did you intend to impart??”
“The fact that we do not like being ignored,” Luna spat. “Not in favor of thou, or anypony else. Thou speakest of the humiliation of a chef, a servant, but what of mine, sister? What of thine own blood?” She jerked her head around to fix her sister in her gaze, the deep cobalt of her forelock swirling about her brow. “We are not accustomed to having our requests dismissed without a thought.”
“Luna…” Celestia was slightly taken aback by the heat of her sibling’s glare. “It was just a sandwich. Bon offered me his resignation, and it was all I could do to make him stay. Was it really worth all of that because you had to wait for a few minutes?”
“We are immortal. Time is a meaningless thing to us; you know this.” Luna’s forehoof struck at the smooth stonework beneath them, striking up sparks and sending a sharp ringing sound echoing down the corridor they were in. “What we do not like is being made to feel...secondary. Redundant. Useless.” Her voice quavered at this last and she looked away quickly, glancing down at the mark that she had scored into the slate beneath her hooves. Warmth enfolded her as Celestia’s wing draped itself over her body, and she felt the touch of her sister’s muzzle on her ear.
“Thou art anything but useless,” the elder alicorn told her in a soft whisper. “Thou art our own blood, and more dear to us than our own life, which we would give to thee, if need be.”
The hot flood of tears burned in Luna’s eyes, and she lifted a forehoof to scrub them away angrily, hating herself for feeling weak, but she smiled and uttered a shaky laugh. “We see that thou hast not forgotten how to speak properly, at least,” she said.
“Times change,” Celestia said. Her voice was warm, her breath soft against Luna’s cheek. “Words change, but our feelings for you never will, Luna. Thou art our...my sister, and I love you.” A small hint of humor entered her voice. “Even when you come close to making me barf on my advisors.”
Luna burst out laughing, the sound dancing around them as they stood alone with each other in the corridor that led to their chambers. “We are sorry, sister. But t’would almost have been worth it to see the looks on their faces.” She scrubbed her face again and looked up at Celestia. “They do dwell on thee; we see it in thy face. Thou art tired all the time from the weight of their ramblings.”
“We all have our duties, Luna. I bear mine, just as you do, even if the weight differs.”
“Couldst…” The smaller alicorn paused, hesitantly, then went on. “Couldst we help thee? Our night court is paltry compared to thine. We would help carry thy burden.”
Celestia shook her head. “I’m afraid the nature of the troubles in the day court would prevent that. Most ponies are just accustomed to the day, I’m afraid.” She began walking again, slowly, and Luna followed, keeping pace beside her. “The day is the time when they’re active, and when all their troubles need resolving.”
Luna paced beside her, matching her step for step in silence for a moment. “Perhaps. But as thou said, sister. Times change.”
Author's Note
Many thanks to Featherprop for proofreading. You're awesome, dude.
Chapter 2:Mare Undarum (Sea of Waves)
The gentle tinkling sound of magic filled the air, filaments of midnight blue coruscating their way up the spiral fluting of her horn as Luna levitated the brush before her. She had just finished sorting out her tail and mane and was commencing to bring her unruly forelock to order. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows behind her, casting long shadows through her chambers and leaving pools of darkness in the far corners of the room, but the alicorn paid the light no heed. Pattering about in her off-duty hours barehoofed was one thing, but the night approached, and Luna had a regular routine which she adhered to with fearful precision.
One did not simply toss celestial bodies about in the aether in one’s bedclothes.
The brush tilted and the princess winced as it momentarily caught on a tangle before pulling free. Several passes later and it glided smoothly over the deep cobalt coloring of her forelock, the tuft of fur between her ears shading from the light cyan coloring that had marked her mane and tail as a youth into a deeper blue-black near the center of her forehead. As the light in the room lessened, the low glimmering from her coat became more apparent, silver glints of light waxing and waning in the depths of her mane. The coloring was more pronounced in her tail, and she flicked it around her hocks, glancing down idly at it for a moment. Both she and her sister had sported solidly colored manes in their youth, their lack of highlights or other coloring making them almost bland compared with other ponies. As they had aged and come into the fullness of their duties, however, the coloration had changed slowly over the centuries, and the texture itself had altered, becoming less material and substantial as time had passed. The brush she used was proof enough of the change; she had enchanted it herself, as a normal brush would have simply passed directly through her mane at this point. She could touch her mane and tail herself, of course, as well as that of her sister, and it felt real enough to her, but she suddenly wondered if another pony would be able to. One of the guards, perhaps, or one of the servants who changed the linen.
Oh, just say it, she chastised herself. Thou speakest of a mortal pony. A normal pony. Art thou afraid to speak the words, even to thyself in the solitude of thy own quarters?
“No, we are not,” Luna growled, glaring at her own reflection. “A normal pony. One like all the others, those that live and die like moths drawn to a flame. Stars know we have seen enough of their dreams to know that life. Dost thou envy them that? Dost thou really?”
She suddenly found it troubling that should could not outright give an answer to that question. Her reflection stared back at her, the expression a mask, giving away nothing. Beside her, in the mirror, she could see the brush hovering just behind her left ear, glimmering in the cobalt grip of her magic. Snorting, she stared at it, half-accusingly.
“What about thou? What art thy feelings on the matter? Wouldst thou prefer something with more substance to part with thine bristles?” Her tone, mocking at first, hardened as she spoke. “Perhaps thou would prefer to clean the mud out of an earth pony’s mane instead. Somepony more common, more normal. Or perhaps my sister would suit thee better? T’would not surprise us in the least.”
The brush merely hovered there in her grip, mindlessly awaiting her whim, her next command. “If only others were as accommodating as thou, perhaps we would not be in such straits.” Her horn flared, and the brush flicked to the right side of her head. “‘What is thy command, o Princess?’” Luna said, her voice dropping to a lower register. “‘We await thy whim.’”
“Brush my mane once more. Carefully, this time.”
“‘As thou command, so shall it be.’” The brush flicked back and slowly drew down the length of her neck, her mane smoothing out once more beneath it as the winks of pseudo-starlight contained within flared more brightly at the touch. It made another pass, then stopped, hovering once more as the alicorn stared at her reflection again.
We are standing here having a conversation with our brush. Is this not forsooth the definition of pathetic?
Luna muttered to herself, the brush flipping over the top of her head and across the room to settle on the polished wooden surface of her dresser. A look in the mirror revealed that the warm colors outside the window had dulled to a low, sullen red. Sunset was upon the land, her sister would at this very moment be staring out of her own window, horn alight, guiding the fiery orb down to its resting place for the night. This was the age-old signal that her own duty now called, to bring on the night and the ascendance of the moon.
Turning, she paced across the room, opening the wide multi-paned double doors that fronted her own balcony on the northern side of the Castle of the Two Sisters. A cool evening breeze touched her face, one of those autumn breezes that hides the chill of winter deep within like a foal hiding a purloined bit of candy from a scolding adult. Almost imperceptibly, her ears perked up a bit more, and she lifted her head, muzzle questing at the breeze and inhaling another delicious lungful of the flavor. Luna had always found this time of year most attractive, the time of year when the days began getting slightly shorter and the nights grew slowly longer, but the bitterness of year’s end had not yet set upon the land. Her own powers seem to ebb and recede slightly, as the tides did at the behest of her beloved moon, and she was always more aware of them around this time of year. Tasks that formerly seemed difficult appeared to become much easier, and things that typically bothered her became trifles, easily dealt with and cast aside.
We should discuss this with our sister, she mused idly, watching as the sun sank slowly into the west, off to her left. Perhaps some sort of celebration, like some ponies do with the harvest-time. The idea that she would have to go over this with Celestia and get permission, like some commoner coming to the court hat in hoof to beg a boon disturbed her, but it was part of the price one paid for being half of a diarchy.
The rim of the sun glimmered on the horizon, and she shook the thought off for later. Right now, her time had come, and she immersed herself fully in the moment.
The delicately spiraled horn atop her brow flickered alight, the magic field colored teal around the tip of the horn, the same shade as the color of her eyes, but shading into a deeper cobalt blue where it touched her forehead. Luna sank deep into the magic, her eyes open but no longer seeing the land in front of her as her head turned reflexively to face the eastern horizon. If asked, she would have described her next action as feeling out the aether, as one might search for something in a darkened room for an object which one knew the general location of, but it went further than that. Luna knew where the moon was at any point, day or night, and she reached out confidently and found it exactly where it should be, poised just under the rim of the earth, waiting.
Come to me, my love. Your time is now.
The magic within her welled up, coursing through her body and focused at the tip of her horn, flicking out and caressing the silver orb which now began to peek over the horizon. Its immense weight filled her consciousness, and she beckoned it slowly, carefully, as an adult might cajole a small child who is just beginning to walk. Come to me.
It came, timidly at first, and then with more confidence as her aura stabilized itself around the surface of the far-off satellite. The sun and the moon would follow their own courses if left alone, and would blindly flail through the cosmos, bound by their own inertia and the gravitational forces inherent in their systems, but the princesses had long ago been bound with the task of guidance, of ensuring balance in the land under their care, not only of the sun and moon, but the ponies for which they were responsible. This was their primary task, their duty, but this particular one had long since outgrown being something as simple as a job to Luna. She had never taken a lover, had never had a foal of her own, but the moon was both to her, and more. The night was hers, her reason for being, and the moon represented all of that to the alicorn entrusted with its care.
Pushing gently, sometimes, cajoling, sometimes forcing, she brought the moon up until it was clear of the eastern horizon, the full orb gleaming down over the land and bathing it in silver highlights. The stars shone out fully now, chips of diamond in the ebon sky overhead, glittering in polished majesty in their carefully arranged constellations. Luna marked one that had been pushed slightly out of position and nudged it back carefully until it was once more properly aligned. The Royal Astronomical Society would have fits if I let that one move out of place. It marked the right shoulder of Starswirl the Bearded, a gifted unicorn which had been honored with his own place among the other legends of the night. It wouldn’t do if you started shrugging at us, would it?
Chuckling to herself, Luna released her grip on the moon and eyed it for several minutes until she was sure it was on its proper course. Nodding, she stepped back, the bright glow of her horn fading and collapsing in on itself until it was gone. The night was well started and underway. She would keep an eye on it, but unless something unexpected happened, all should be well for quite some time. Now, she had time for other matters.
Turning, she stepped back and moved off the balcony, pacing back into her rooms and shutting the doors behind her. “Guard!”
The door to her chambers opened and one of the golden-clad sentries that were always posted outside her door strode in. He stopped after entering and bowed his head dutifully. “Highness?”
Luna could not stop herself from smiling. “Ebon Storm. We art most pleased to see thou once again. Art thou assigned to us once more, or is our sister determined to steal thee away?”
The armored pegasus before her laughed, rubbing one foreleg self-consciously. “Princess Celestia did ask me to transfer to her detail, Your Grace, but I honestly don’t think I could deal with trying to get my body into that schedule. I’m really used to the night shift at this point.” He shrugged. “Besides, I like it.”
“Really?”
“It’s quiet,” he managed after a moment. “Day guards have a lot more hubbub to deal with, and if it’s up to me, I’d rather stick with the peace and quiet here.”
“We appreciate your awareness in this.” Luna sighed. “Unfortunately, we have a bit of ‘hubbub’ for thou to handle.” She blinked suddenly. “Did my sister compensate you appropriately?”
“Oh, yes, Your Grace. I’m your Captain of the Guard for the night shift.” The stallion straightened unconsciously, throwing the insignia on his breastplate into sharp detail. “As you will, so shall it be.”
“Cease,” Luna said, waving a forehoof at him. “Thy have proven thyself most admirably in the past. It is the least thou deserve.”
“You honor me, Your Grace.”
A dark blue aura appeared around the door, swinging it shut with a soft click. “Please, Storm. We have known thee since thou were a colt.” Luna’s muzzle twitched. “We would prefer if thou were not so formal, at least in private.”
“Yes, Princess.” Ebon Storm’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I’m just well aware that you do not approve of over familiarity. I’ve instructed the night guards as such, too.”
“That is acceptable. My sister seems to indulge in such behavior with her detail, but that is her prerogative, I suppose.”
“Bunch of slackasses,” Storm muttered, then clapped a hoof to his mouth immediately. “Apologies, Your Grace, I—”
Luna’s laughter bubbled up and burst forth, and the alicorn shook helplessly, tears of mirth squeezing out from under her eyelids. She staggered and leaned against her dresser, peals of laughter ringing out and filling the room. “I...I was not aware that...that was the current term for such b-b-behav…”
Ebon Storm’s expression was mortified. “Princess Luna, I apologize, I did not mean to be vulgar.”
“Oh, cease.” Luna giggled again, then drew herself up straight. “Storm, if nopony else, we do trust thee to be straightfoward with us. Please do not berate thyself for thine honesty. It is, if anything, refreshing to us.”
“V-Very well, Your Grace.”
“Storm, relax. We are not displeased with thee.” Luna took a moment to compose herself, then nodded at the guard captain. “We have a small task for thee, if thou wouldst accommodate us.”
“By all means.” The pegasus bowed, touching his chin to his extended foreleg. “Command me, Your Grace.”
“This may seem a trifling matter, but ‘tis most important to us.” Luna leveled her gaze at her guard captain. “The head chef, Bon Appetit, has an apprentice currently assigned to him. I wish you to locate this pony and send him to our chambers as soon as is practicable.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Luna sighed inwardly, but protocol was protocol. She’d drilled it into her servants time and again, and she could hardly blame them for doing what they’d been instructed to.
“Is he, um…” Storm trailed off for a moment, fidgeting nervously. “Is this chap going to be a...regular visitor? If so, I’d like to know so that I can spread the word to the guards so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”
The alicorn’s head jerked up, and she glared at the pegasus before her. “We do not summon him here for that,” she snapped. The volume of her voice had risen appreciably, making the mirror in the corner shiver. “Should a matter of that...subject occur, we will notify you. Until then, it is none of thy concern, do I make myself clear?”
The guard cringed, his ears flattening back. “Crystal, Your Grace,” he replied meekly. “I apologize, I did not mean to pry.”
Luna reined in her temper, taking a slow, deep breath. “Of course. No, it is merely a domestic matter, of small, import. But he will be a regular visitor, yes.” She allowed a corner of her mouth to quirk upwards. “Besides, he is rather too young for anything...dire.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Storm perked one eyebrow up. “Will there be anything else?”
“That will be all for now. You are dismissed.”
The pegasus nodded, turning neatly and beginning to leave.
“Captain Storm?”
Storm stopped, his armor making a dull clink as it bumped against the rim of his helmet. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“We should not have shouted at you. You are diligent and well-mannered, and we are well aware of your quality.” Luna looked directly at him, her eyes gleaming teal in the reflected lamplight. “We apologize for our uncouth behavior.”
The pegasus bowed deeply, then looked up at her. “No apology is necessary, Your Grace, since there is no offense to forgive.”
Luna felt a warm upwelling in her chest. “Thou art full of nonsense, but as thee will. Carry on, Captain.”
“At once, Your Grace.” Storm rounded smartly and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him. One did not slam doors in the castle, after all.
The knock on the door made Luna snort in amusement, and a glance at the clock at her bedside confirmed her assessment. Barely one quarter of an hour. We do hope Storm has not terrified the youngster beyond the ability to converse. Her horn flared briefly, and the latch clicked on the door, unlocking it and opening it a hoof’s width. “Come.”
The door swung open, and the adolescent colt who had been working in the kitchens earlier paced in uncertainly, his eyes wide. He swallowed heavily, and the princess observed his throat working nervously. Not quite terrified, but close. “Y-Your Grace?”
Oh, my. Luna fought down her amusement and kept her expression neutral. “The captain gave thee an abbreviated etiquette lesson on thy way here, I presume?”
“Y-Yes’m.” The alicorn’s frown made him back up a step, but the clicking sound of the door closing behind him cut off his retreat. “I, I mean, yes, Your Grace. He d-didn’t tell me what I was s-summoned for, however.”
“That would be expected; we did not discuss it with him.” Luna turned away and peered idly out of the doors that fronted her balcony, examining the sky critically. “Thou art apprenticed to Bon Appetit, correct?”
“Y-Yes, Your Grace.” His voice performed that unwelcome teenager’s break on the last word, and colt’s ears pinned back against his head. “I apologize for t-the incident earlier t-today, I d-didn’t know that t-t-the—”
“That is of no import; the incident is irrelevant.” Luna frowned, her brow furrowing as she stared up at the constellation of Orion that had begun to creep up over the horizon. “Tell us, doth thou possess a name?”
“M-My name?”
“Yes, thy name, child. Or doth the chef whistle for thou like a pet dog?”
Luna could see his reflection in the window, and she smiled slightly as his cheeks reddened for a moment. “No, he doesn’t. I am no pet. My name is Late Riser, Your Grace.”
This one has spirit. Excellent. The alicorn turned her head, offering the colt a dubious eye. “Late Riser? Thy nomenclature does not inspire us with much confidence. How didst thou arrive at such a name?”
The colt rubbed a hoof behind one of his ears self-consciously. “I, uh, I’m not really a morning pony, Your Grace, to be honest.” He glanced back at his haunch, where his cutie mark displayed a rather flattened looking loaf attempting to escape from a breadpan. “And I’m not really doing well with my baking. Yet.”
“Fear not, young Riser.” Luna allowed a small bit of humor to creep into her voice. “We are not, as thou sayest, a ‘morning pony’ ourselves. This is quite in thy favor.”
“Your Grace?”
“We wish to have our own head chef, to cater to our specific desires, on demand. And we think that thou should have the honor of having the position.” Luna repressed the desire to laugh at the look of utter shock that spread upon the colt’s features. “Thou shalt have plenty of time to perfect thy craft under our command. Dost thou accept?” Luna was notorious for putting ponies on the spot, and she did it deliberately, for the alicorn had no patience for dithering and ambiguity. Her sister might enjoy a lengthy discussion, but the princess of the night preferred her decisions to be over and done with.
Time was precious, even if you were immortal. “Well?”
Late Riser’s mind was plainly running dangerously close to overload speed. “B-But, I, my master, he—”
“...has no say in the matter. He will obtain a new ‘prentice easily. Our choice will be done, and none shall refute it, not even our sister. Thou shalt be our chef, answerable to us only...if thou choosest to accept. Now,” Luna said, her eyes narrowing. “What say you?”
The colt’s eyes darted frantically around; this was the first real decision he had ever been made to make, and it would choose his life’s course from the moment he made it. His ears laid back again, and then he closed his eyes and straightened. “I...I’m honored, Your Grace. I accept.”
The thunderous look Luna had been shooting him vanished in an instant, and she beamed at him. “Most excellent!” Her voice shook the panes of the windows behind her, and she chuckled softly. “Thou art most daring, young Riser. Most would have chosen to take the safer, diplomatic course, and remained in their master’s shadow.” Her voice lowered, and she looked at him for a moment. “Tell us why thou accepted. We are, indeed, curious.”
Late Riser swallowed heavily, then paused a moment, thinking carefully. “I...I like Master Bo—”
“Call him Bon, if thou will. He is thy master no more; thou art equal in station, now.”
Riser froze for a moment, the reality of this suddenly sinking in. In a split second, he had gone from lowly cook’s ‘prentice to a head of staff, with ponies of his own to command. “This...is going to take some getting used to,” he croaked.
Luna laughed merrily. “Mine own reaction when we were chosen to be the princess of the moon,” she said. “Thou shalt adapt, as we have. But come. We await thy explanation.”
The colt’s ears perked upright at that. Luna had been nervous? Ever? He fought past the revelation and continued. “Well, I like Ma...I mean, I like Bon. He’s nice and all, and teaches me a lot, and doesn’t shout. But I’ve seen Princess Celestia’s face when he brings her something special, something she didn’t even ask for, but he made up anyway, because he just knew, you know?” Late Riser met the alicorn’s gaze directly. “I want to do that for someone. Make something with my own hooves and make them happy, because I can, and because, maybe, I don’t know, they needed it and didn’t know they needed it—” He clapped a hoof to his mouth at Luna’s expression and began to stammer. “I-I’m sorry, Your Grace, I’m rambling on like an idiot.”
“Nay.” Luna’s eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “We have chosen most wisely. Thou art well blessed, little pony.” Riser’s statement had struck her deeply, and it took her a moment to recompose herself. “We look forward with great interest to the improvement of thy craft. Which starts tonight.” She clapped her forehooves together, the mailed shoes emitting a deep ringing tone. “We have a special request of thee.”
“Absolutely, Your Grace!” Late Riser beamed at her. “What can I do for you?”
“First of all, thou shalt take that rag off of thy person and burn it. We shall not have our personal chef be seen in the halls of our castle in such raiment.”
Riser glanced down guiltily at the apron he still wore tied around his chest and waist. The colt had barely finished his shift in the kitchens and gotten to his chamber when Storm had come banging on the door, demanding his presence immediately. “Of course. My apologies, Your Grace.”
“Even so. We shall have our staff provide suitable garments for thee posthaste. In the meantime, my special request. We desire a...snack.”
“As you wish, Your Grace. I’ll prepare it myself.”
“We expect nothing less,” Luna returned drily. “Our request, however, is not typical castle fare. We wish something to tide us over until our main meal at midnight, which thou shalt also prepare for us. In the meantime, however…” The princess paused, then lowered her voice drastically, far below her normal tone. “There is an...appetizer, we have heard spoken of amongst the servant ponies. Hast thou heard of...cheese hay fries?”
Late Riser blinked hard at that. “Seriously? I love those things! Ma...uh, I mean, Bon always fussed at me whenever I had any, though.”
“Indeed. Canst thou prepare this concoction? We much desire to sample its flavor. Do be honest, we pray; we do not wish to suffer indigestion.”
“Princess Luna, I can promise you that you will not be disappointed.” He grinned abruptly. “You want hay bacon on that, too?”
“Late Riser, we assure you hay bacon would be most appreciated. It is one of our favorites.” The colt stored that bit of information away firmly in his mind, she noted. Good. It was unseemly to jot such things down on a piece of paper like a common waiter might.
“Princess, you give me thirty minutes, and I’ll make your taste buds sing.”
“We look forward to the performance, young Riser.” Luna glanced behind her again; the alicorn was restless when she could not personally attend to her night. “Oh, and as for our midnight supper?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
Luna smiled at him, her mane flowing across her features for a moment and covering them before floating away again. “Surprise us,” she stated.
Late Riser’s expression wavered for a moment, and the alicorn fought to suppress a giggle. Poor lad. But one must test the metal in the fire to see if it may be forged true. If he has any wits, he’ll interrogate the night cooks on what we like to eat, but he still has to pick something, and he has no idea what we want. Fair enough, neither do we at the moment. “Dismissed, Late Riser. The clock is ticking.”
The teenage colt snapped upright in a sorry approximation of attention. “At once, Your Grace!” He spun around, nearly tripping, and managed to get the door open while turning and bowing while backing up, all without falling over. “You’ll love it, I promise!”
Luna hmm-hmmed absently and regarded the sky outside the windowpanes until the door closed behind her, then released the pent-up laughter inside her. She leaned against the doorframe that led to her balcony and laughed until tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Oh my. The lad is precious. We really do hope he lasts.”
There was a familiar double-knock at her door, and it opened to reveal Ebon Storm. The guard captain paced into the room, stopping and peering at her dubiously. “I take it that went better than expected?”
“Most propitiously, I assure you, Captain.” Luna snorted again, then composed herself. “Storm, the youngster that just left is named Late Riser, and he is our new personal chef. You shall allow him the standard clearance within the castle and our chambers as befits his new station.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Storm cleared his throat carefully. “May I inquire as to what happened to Bon Appetit?”
“Nothing happened. He is still our sister’s chef. Riser is now mine.”
The guard’s eyes bespoke innumerable questions, but he kept them to himself and bowed. “As you will.”
“Precisely.” Luna quirked a brow upward. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Your Grace. I’ll notify the guard and the staff as you command. I wish you a pleasant evening, Princess.” He bowed once more, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Carefully.
Luna lay upon the balcony outside her chambers, her eyes fixed on the spangled vault of sky above her. Her horn flickered, and the orange star at the left of Orion’s belt nudged itself back into position once more. That’s right, little one, we are watching you. Mind your place.
The basket that lay between her forelegs sent up another wave of heavenly aroma, and she obliged it by picking up another of the golden-brown hayfries and munching on it contentedly. A piece of hay bacon crunched between her molars and she squealed with delight as the flavor burst across her tongue. Oh, these are divine. If the lad chooses poorly for our supper, we shall most certainly forgive him. She was quite aware that the snack she was devouring was rather unhealthy, as well as menacing to her trim physique, but she consoled herself by deciding to limit her consumption of it. Only when the moon is full. We shall instruct our chef so.
Her chef. The idea filled her with delight and a small amount of concern. She would no doubt hear about this from her sister in the morning, but Luna was confident that her decision would go unchallenged. After all, it was such a small thing. And besides, she truly had something that belonged to her, something that had not been bestowed by her parents, her sister, or anyone else.
Something she had taken.
Not that Late Riser was an object or anything, far from it. The lad would grow to be far more than just a cook, she would see to that. Luna rarely had desires for material items. It was the abstract, the metaphysical, the undefined world which attracted her strongly. Late Riser possessed rare, precious qualities which she intended to see flower and grow, and he would be rewarded for his efforts.
But those were matters for another night. The one before her now called her attention fully. Casting her gaze upward again, she noted the positions of the stars. With the night sky above her, she had no need to check the clock behind her to see the time. Her night court would begin in precisely one hour and forty-seven minutes from now, and she would continue it through until midnight. Celestia held longer sessions in the day, but Luna was not her sister, and few ponies sought the counsel of the younger alicorn in the small hours.
No matter. She had an important duty to fulfill in the meanwhile. It was still the middle of the evening, and while older ponies might still be up and about, there were those who retired early: farmers, shopkeepers, and the small ones which were so important to them all, the children, the fillies and colts who had finished their dinner, done their homework (mostly,) and had been sent off to bed. It was time to see to their dreams.
Idly munching on another mouthful of hayfries, Luna closed her eyes as her horn began glimmering from base to tip with a bright, coruscating light.
We come, our little ponies. Rejoice in the night, for we are here.
We are here.
