Fires flickered across the fading day, rippling through shades of gold and orange, yellow and blue. Banners fluttered in the breeze, a cool lick of air sweeping away the day’s heat and dust in equal measures. Ponies celebrated throughout Canterlot, walking the cobblestone streets in twos and threes en route for hearth and happiness. The glow of light graced windows aplenty, panes of glass diffused views both inwards and out, silhouettes danced back and forth across the walls, and sounds of harmony drifted throughout the streets.
Streaks of sparks traced a path into the sky above, bursting outwards in flowers, stars, suns, moons, and rainbow pyrotechnics. Amongst the gardens and vaulted halls of the Canterlot palace, hundreds of ponies clapped for the display, the commencement of the end-of-day festivities throughout the city. Bodies and minds mingled amidst the pruned shrubbery, tongues and inhibitions flowing away with the champagne and wine.
Celestia herself stood as the nexus of the party, ponies orbiting ceaselessly in effusive loops around her royal presence, jostling even on this festive occasion for a position next to their Princess. A hoof out of step or a grazing bump proved enough for an opportuning noble to slip closer, a flux of voice and visage. As distant and as warm as the Sun she embodied, Celestia glided across the lawn, lips quirked slightly, addressing and redressing the points put forth by those around her. Words came easily, automatically.
Rarity watched the Princess of the Sun meander, normal as could be to the unobserved eye. Even those knowledgeable in the ways of the court - a lifetime of sequestered breeding and expensive tutors worked wonderfully to hone one’s perception - might have missed the differences, but a close relationship to Celestia afforded Rarity an insight which few could claim as their own.
Naught but the royal raiment covered the alabaster coat of the Princess, gold and gems polished to catch the lights in twinkling, casting a slight radiance around the crown and halter. Celestia’s ethereal mane caught this glow and shimmered softly as it flowed through the air. The perfect representation of regality, at once aloof and mingling. Yet there was a tension in Celestia’s body.
Every ten to fifteen steps, as her gilded hooves pressed down onto the grass, she hesitated. A hoof which lingered half-a-second too long on the ground, one that dug nigh-imperceptible furrows through the soft turf of the lawn. Eyes would drift to the spires of the palace, excluding the present reality, her head nodding automatically to the statements of the ponies around her. Creases fanned out from the corner of her eyes, marring Celestia’s immaculate face for the briefest moment.
Did no one else notice, those whom Rarity had and, in some cases, did still admire? They flocked to her for counsel and favor even after the end of official daytime court hours, this hour of merriment. Golden Platter was seeking the integration of his banks with the royal treasury once again, supposedly to secure the treasury against market crashes by providing the ability to withdraw funds from Bit Banker, Inc. A quaint game played for years, Celestia never outright refused the stallion, leading him on and gaining the loyalty of the wealthy stallion.
Rarity took pride in her acquaintances with the Princesses. Closeness honed Rarity’s talents, allowing the fashionista to draw out the threads of a pony’s personality and tastes to hoof-craft a dress unique to the individual, taking her pleasure in the customer’s joy. Threads of personality fit together quite similarly to those of cloth. It was thus that she understood the study of ponies better than most.
Her head turned, eyes twinkling blue in the firelight as they gazed up at the same spires Celestia studied. Golden filigree clambered along the spirals of the turrets, set in and on the marble blocks which gleamed glossily after a millennia and more of weathering. A pinnacle of architecture, taking inspiration from all tribes in its creation. Sweeping balustrades and airy columns supported and accentuated the precise lines and flowing forms, still standing after ages in testament to the diligence and care of those who had constructed the marvel.
The palace boasted many hundreds of windows and dozens of stained-glass pieces, lighting almost the entirety of the palace naturally during the day. Light poured from each, servants, nobles, and guards trotting about on tasks or simply standing at the windows to watch over Canterlot, observing the final hours of the Summer Sun Celebration from on-high.
At the peak of one of the towering spires, a window remained darkened. Rarity frowned, eyes straining to catch a sign of movement. Nothing.
Returning to the moment, Rarity rose to her hooves and excused herself from the petty nobles and business ponies who had sought her acquaintance. Walking through the crowd, Rarity drew a few stares from the old blood of Canterlot, eyeing the dressmaker from Ponyville who dared to walk among the entitled of the nation. The mare who, for a time, had become the rage of Canterlot, her name filling each corner and each mind. A time spent in the limelight that had nearly consumed her. It was her friends and Fancypants, that astonishing stallion, who had finally pulled her from the entangling roots of fame. Of isolation.
What consumed that Princess of the Night, regal in her high tower, a remnant of an age gone one-thousand years and more? For several weeks after her Return, the Lunar Princess had enthralled the court, most of the gossip partaking of her name in some shape or form. She was promptly forgotten. Few ever saw Luna, and fewer still interacted with her. There were advantages to the Night Court because of this fact as less competition existed for petitions. Rarity herself had attended one of the court sessions out of curiosity, her interest in Luna and the nobles who attended her.
Luna’s arbitration was at times swift and – in the opinion of some – harsh. In said session, Luna had managed to arrange a duel between a couple of feuding stallions. The confusion in Luna’s and the nobles’ faces expressed the divide that a millennium of exile made on law more clearly than any writ ever could.
She had been in the middle of explaining the rules to the poor colts when Celestia burst in, somewhat dishevelled: creases under and blood in her eyes, slightly less luminescence in her hair, one side of her coat slightly matted, indicating someone had woken Celestia for the matter. There had been no Night Courts in the time since.
Walking through a garden path, camellias blooming on each side, Rarity thought of her friends on this joyous night. Everyone had stayed in Ponyville to assist with the planning and execution of the Summer Sun Celebration, practicing skills which they had utilized many times before in the name of fun, and with Twilight leading them, it was all but assured that all preparations would have finished well before the festivities began. Only one Element was absent.
Rarity sighed, training her mind on the positives of the situation. Photo Finish had agreed to utilize some of Rarity’s dresses in an upcoming fashion shoot, and Rarity’s closeness with Sapphire Shores again netted the fashionista a significant contract, an order which would consume weeks of planning and crafting. Only the best in fashion would be acceptable for the best of singers. Her network of providers, associates, and clientele grew with each visit, and the Summer Sun Celebration placed much of the nobility in close proximity. Success could replace friendship temporarily, could it not?
Inside the Palace, Rarity found that the hallways were nearly abandoned. Liveried servants scuttled by from time to time, usually carrying some form of extravagant dish or drink, and even the occasional noblepony was to be found within, walking alone or chatting with a group of acquaintances. Rarity took note, filed away the information, and continued onwards to her objective.
*
Darkness deadened the gleam of crescent moon embossed on gilded door as it crashed open. Luna stormed through as tears crawled down her face, burning lines of shame that served only to remind her more of the shadow that Celestia had cast over her. A vase toppled as Luna’s magic lashed out, scattering petunias across the floor. Her darkened field smashed its way through decorations and gifts, destroying precious works of art and memory, many of which Luna had chosen for display herself.
She halted as a tattered tapestry tumbled to the floor in her path, its once vibrant weave lacerated in Luna’s anger. Stooping slightly, Luna’s hoof slithered under and caught on the tapestry, pulling up and over to reveal the piece for inspection. Luna’s left hind leg collapsed, smashing into the ground and opening a small cut.
Sun and Moon danced on the colored cloth, their forms young and lithe. Pink mane chased blue, black threads stitching smiles along the faces. A statue stood in the background, its form a curious amalgam of creatures, stretched out in deluded grandeur. All around clothwork ponies celebrated, heads turned with joy to the two sisters.
The muscles under Luna’s eye twitched as she raised herself once again to standing, lip trembling. It was Celestia who had accepted the tapestry, the royal to whom it had been presented primarily. Ashes fluttered down to land amidst Luna’s grayish blue coat. In the night, was there a difference?
Ignored yet again. Raising and lowering the moon so that the ponies of Equestria might enjoy their ‘blessed day’ yet again. Excluded from the management of the kingdom which Luna had helped create yet again! Growling, Luna’s hoof shot forth and-
*
Gently touched upon the lunar iconography engraved in the stone slabs of the floor. A wisp of golden magic brushed aside the dust, revealing a crack shattering through the engraving. Sighing, Celestia’s burning eyes looked back along the hallway. Holes punched through the arched ceiling, silvered moonlight streaming through, dancing among the armies of dust, patterns of shadow leaping along the wall. A haze covered her vision, the scene swimming, a refusal to accept the reality of the scene in front of her.
Magic idly shimmered around Celestia’s body, wiping away the dirt and blood that stained her once-pristine coat. A Princess was supposed to keep herself in the best of appearances at all times, especially when dealing with another. Luna was waiting for her in the tower. Dread filled her and the sound of hooves striking against the floor consumed the quiet night as Celestia’s shadow sped across the hall.
*
Rarity stepped carefully through the deserted hallways, flinching at the occasional shadows which sprang around her, cackling in amusement at her fright. The candles were fewer in this area of the castle, especially as one approached the tower.
Halting in front of a closed door, Rarity examined the iron edifice. Towering over the pale mare, the ten-foot tall iron portal stood imposingly. Bolts studded the edges and length of the door, indicating points where builders had placed reinforcements. A moon of wrought silver lay set into the door, shining dully from some faint and ancient magic. In the center of the door lay a single crescent-shaped indentation, the only apparent feature that might prove a door handle.
The sounds of merriment had long since ceased to reach Rarity’s ears, the entombing rock of the castle consuming the cheer of the cavorting ponies outside. Nothing trickled down from above, a desolate silence. Each moment a new hesitation, fears of intrusion, abandonment, hurt.
A hoof clicked into the crescent on the door.
*
The door screamed silently, writhing in Luna’s magical constraints. A seam opened in the surface, quickly expanding to tear apart the opening. Luna slowly stepped through, her front left hoof hooking against a jagged protrusion of metal. Pain shot through her body until it reached her mind, eagerly absorbing the harm. Blood trickled profusely from the gash in Luna’s leg.
Maybe if she climbed to the top of the tower she could build it to reach the stars. Would that be far enough from her forsaken room, forsaken throne, forsaken bond. Discord, Sombra, Tirek, cast out by tyranny of Sun and Moon together. Now only scouring light blazed upon Equestria.
*
Luna usually kept her wing of the palace in such agreeable condition, even during the day when much of the magic was suppressed by lack of moon. It was not like her sister to have allowed the stairs themselves to fall into disrepair, pieces of rubble strewn across various landings and all across the stairs. Even had Luna commanded it, the palace staff would not have stood for such disarray.
Reaching an undamaged window in the tower, Celestia glanced to the side. A hyacinth bud rested on the sill, the rest of the plant gone. Had it fallen from its perch to smash on the courtyard below? Had a stray spell caught the flowers, consuming the material greedily, seeking death of deathless matter?
A shudder coursed through Celestia’s body, her muscles wracked with pain. Teeth gritting, blood and tears swirling together, her legs steadied and continued their ascent. Feverish images raced across her vision. Why were there nightmares? Nightmares… Night… Mare...
*
Only darkness stared down from above, foreboding, enchanted, strange. A light bobbed to the side, ascending the stones. Greedy shadows tugged at the light, dimming, dimmer, suffocated. Power made to bind.
A drop ran down the wall, glistening as a jewel in the fading light. Lances of radiance beamed out and were extinguished. One heavy breath after another brought forth eddies of air. The air shook heavily, the very cup of trembling.
*
Striding through the complete shadows, a hoof slammed against the door, bursting open under the force of the blow. Wood scattered through the air, lacerating her body near the point of impact. No feeling left. No room to feel. Do not feel...
*
Doubt crept forward, stalking the mind. Confidence flaked away, stripped from light and stripped from being. There was beauty in the night. And terror.
*
Where were these dreams coming from? Luna could explain. Where was Luna!
Fear.
*
Screaming, Luna unleashed a final burst of enraged magic. The energy swirled and spat, thundering with life as it tore into the room savagely, leaving all as shreds. She would not feel! Sanity would murder love, hate, and all. Slights uncountable, a slow death. Where was the moon? Was there nothing left?
A crown of darkened iron played its hallowed tune against the floor.
*
A hoof froze in the air, struck still. Ears twitched, listening, straining to remember, to hear again.
“Hello?” She called out. A second passed, five, twenty. For a moment she had thought someone was there. For a moment, there had been hope. The caress of darkness ran along her body. Calling softly, so softly, so sweetly.
Hyacinth bloomed in the Everfree Forest, remembering its own.
*
A shadowed crown I bear for thee
And sundered moon is now set free,
For as all was shall ever be,
The light for you and dark for me
