The Tales Of The Lunar Consort, Volume II

Warning: All text beyond this line is only notes for this story I had written. This story, and every other I was writing, is now cancelled, and while not be produced any further. Feel free to take whatever you like.

Canterlot Castle, Lunar Tower (Celestia's Sorrow),

Celestia sat in the closest chair to the long-dead fireplace. Her once-typical seat. She looked over at Luna's cold, abandoned seat and tears abruptly roared to her eyes. Sobs racked her, and she lay her head on her hands to cry. Pain, fear, regret, shame. The very moment she dissolved all the emotional barriers needed for a life of politics and let her tears loose, her Royal Consort, a Pegasus stallion named Thunder Strike, entered the room.

"...'Tia?..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. Celestia looked up, sniffling.

"You've, um, you've got a letter. Philomena brought it. She wants you only; she tried to bite me when I went to take it."

"Philomena?"

Philomena, bringing mail? Who got her to do that? Only a few ponies had ever known how to get her to deliver messages; the proud phoenix demanded her favorite food before she'd act as a messenger bird.

After a moment, Celestia whistled, and the firy bird flew into the big apartment, letter in her talons, inevitable Badlands Thwomp Rat in her beak. Celestia extended her arm, and the big bird settled on her arm, holding out one talon. Celestia took the letter, and the phoenix jumped up onto Celestia's shoulder and perched there.

Celestia marvelled a bit. When she'd taken it, she instantly known it was something important, just from the feel of the envelope. The envelope was of a heavy, cream-laid stock, not often seen, and it stirred memories in her mind.

"He used this stock," Celestia sniffed, halfway between sadness and shock. She read the front of the envelope. Written in semi-copperplate, that distinctive hand that she'd thought died over seventy years ago, was her name, "Celestia Faustsdaughter, SI". Her hands trembling ever so slightly, she brought the envelope to her eyes and examined the writing. Constant, middling pressure, overall significant slant of the lettering, laid on with an old-fashioned fountain pen. Every inch his writing.

No...

She flipped the envelope and her heart jumped up into her throat. The letter was sealed with something she'd never thought she'd ever see again. The Seal of the Lunar Consort, designed by him. She froze, struck dumb, and the letter dropped to the floor. Thunder Strike darted forward and took it up, opened it.

"'Meet me in the Night Guard barracks beneath the Castle?"" He read. "Who-?"

He was interrupted by Celestia rising from her seat, and striding past him.

"'Tia? What-?"

"Going to the Night Guard barracks. And before you say anything, Thunder, I know who wrote that letter."

"Who, then?"

Celestia did not immediately answer, just kept walking, trying to control the excitement and fear and astonishment rising in her breast. Thunder Strike followed her, imploring her to at least summon an escort. She resolutely ignored him. He pestered her incessantly until she snapped, spinning about, facing him, shoving her snout in his face.

"Thunder Strike! I am more than capable of defending myself. This stallion is no threat to me. Now leave me be, Thunder Strike!"

Thunder Strike recoiled, and Celestia turned and swept past him. Timidly, he ventured one more time, "Will you at least tell me who this stallion is?"

Celestia sighed, oh ye long-suffering. "Enoch. My brother-in-law... The Lunar Consort... Luna's husband."

Every Consort, Royal, Lunar or Solar, is, due to the very nature of their position, exposed and very privy to secret and sensitive information. Celestia had, after his disappearance, either destroyed (very rarely) or more often merely confiscated any and all information on him that she could find. So, it was natural that Thunder Strike knew that name and the immense power and authority and the popularity that the stallion had held. And, since his appointment as the Royal Consort to the Sun, Thunder Strike had tried to model his behaviors after those of the famous stallion. Of course, Thunder Strike was... shocked; Enoch's presumed death date was listed as September 8, Sol 50. The notion that the stallion was still alive, over fifty years after his death date, was patently ridiculous. but Celestia seemed dead serious...

The two walked in a thick silence until they reached the almost forgotten entrance to the Lunar Pegasus barracks beneath the Castle. These long-abandoned barracks had, since the Fall, lain hollow, dead and empty. The countless generations of ponies who'd called this place a home away from the Hollow were now mere figments of memory, and smacked of failure in the highest extreme. To Celestia, at least. This tormented her until the pair came into sight of the massive double doors. Doors which had obviously been cleaned, and one of which now stood conspicuously ajar. Celestia's heart jumped into her throat and began to beat in a frenzied rhythm.

Impossible...