Best read while listening to Sea of Serenity
The twinkle of stars had abated not a bit. Even the most luminous of cities in all Equestria couldn’t push back the silent fireworks that came to and passed away every night. Even the quite literal fireworks couldn’t obscure the pinpricks of light that would doubtlessly shine dimly for eons more, even after all fireworks burned and carried away their ash. Most ponies were captivated more by this climax of an annual sight, one which they could see only a few dozen-odd times in their life. And yet, in the middle of all this, there sat but one pony who could have seen all the fireworks in the world, - and probably did - but hadn’t cared a lick about the any of them, captivated not by sparks and magical explosions but the slight twinkle above, the most mundane of sights that could be seen each and every night.
On the grassy field there sat a pony, alone and looking almost misplaced. Her body cast shadows against multicoloured pops and fizzles from all around her, looking up and seeming almost as uncaring as the gentle breeze which perpetually nudged the blades of grass all around her. She remained unnoticed in the wide field, faraway sounds of cheer and merry lost in the plains surrounding Canterlot.
She would remain unnoticed the way she sat, aethereal mane nearly invisible in the darkness, were it not for a single partygoer who gingerly sat several yards away. The second silhouette opened their mouth and breathed in as if to ask the silhouette why, but thought better of it and, after several more seconds of staring, looked up in the same direction. Confusion set in as the figure couldn’t find what was so interesting above, as the fireworks came from far beyond them. They looked back down at the silhouette and saw it looking back, face still dark yet with eyes lit abright. Azure, almost as crystal clear as the sky. They looked back towards the sky, and the dressed mare smiled with realisation.
“Why art thou here, Twilight Sparkle?”
The mare sat still, smiling as she scanned over the various constellations, the imaginary shapes popping into her vision like recovered childhood memories and giving the starlit sky a marvellous third dimension. Tales of antiquity, of wars and heroes, of gods and demons lived on through those simple drawings, each as simple as a connect-the-dots puzzle, yet with enough history to dedicate your entire life to studying its immensity.
“I don’t know.”
“We do.”
Twilight didn’t know how to respond to that. So she didn’t. She knew why she was here, but the stars were only a part of it. But she also knew that the stars held the answer, and she knew the exact scientific parameters of said stars to the decimal place.
“… did you know that it takes us over one hundred and fifty million years to orbit the Celestial Band?”
She could almost feel the nod over the warm breeze. She hadn’t torn her eyes away from the great white that spanned nearly the entire sky.
Twilight had frequently dreamed of leaving Equus behind and floating among the great expanse, flowing through that great white disk of incandescent amber. She could only imagine the grandiose of all the nebulae and protoplanetary rings, all the dust clouds and all the lonely cold jupiters that criss-crossed Celestia’s namesake. All of it whirling and circling around each other in an eternal dance, like the world’s biggest waltz to the tune of triple time ages.
“… or why the Celestial Band is so white?”
“Thou art too young.”
And the Princess was right. Right in many ways. Theirs was probably the youngest of all galaxies, so young it hadn’t even formed a galactic bar, or any arms for that matter. At least that was the prevalent scientific theory. Twilight thought her own, of course, but it was all up to peer review and further analysis. But that wasn’t the end of it.
“My ephemeris is hundreds of pages long, you know.”
Twilight looked at the Princess as she still stared away into the light-filled void. The fireworks had long stopped, and the sky remained Moonless, either through neglect or deliberately. She could guess as to why.
Luna looked away from the stars once more and stared into Twilight’s eyes with… calmness.
“Ours spans all of Selena.”
Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it again. She doubted she meant that literally, but then again, she had the time. She looked back up, trying to drown whatever response she might’ve had in the milky expanse. She spotted the bright reddish twinkle of Aisa near the horizon, outshining all the other planets and moons without effort, almost like her mind had been drowned by that simple statement.
Canterlot was quiet now, and even the lights started to dim, the tiny remnants of light pollution that might have been fading away, pushed out of the sky by the immensity of galaxies and clusters. Maybe she should have realised sooner. Maybe she was just bothering the Princess, and maybe it would be better if she just left her alone. She was about to lift herself off the grass - lest her dress accruing a certain hue of green angers a certain fashionista - when she heard the Princess interject.
“For how long hast thou observed the stars, Twilight Sparkle?”
Her voice was still calm, inviting even. Yet the question was… confrontational, as most of her phrases seem to be. Dull, blunt, brutal at times. It’s no wonder she would have stayed completely alone if Twilight Sparkle hadn’t come along.
Twilight eyed the Princess with hesitation, mouth agape. Her mind rolled over all the possible words that she could say, all the possible little adages that she would have for just the occasion, all the tiny achievements in her wake, but she knew she could say nothing. Right here and right now, her achievements were truly just tiny; small and inconsequential. She couldn’t possibly compare herself to the Princess of the Night herself, one who waged wars and probably even killed for this little hobby that Twilight Sparkle sometimes indulged in.
She just couldn’t find anything to say, yet she had to. She had to scream, yet someone had sewn her mouth shut without a moment’s hesitation.
But then… either Twilight’s eyes must’ve adapted to the darkness, or the stars all conspired from thousands of lightyears away each to shine just a little brighter then, or her mind was playing tricks on her, since instead of a mean-spirited laughter or some other derision, she saw the Princess… smile. A shy smile like that of a filly nuzzling with her mother in the public. It took Twilight by complete surprise, and the corners of her own mouth pulled up almost as if controlled by a puppeteer.
Twilight looked back up, eyes once again fixated on Aisa as she floated through the night sky, partially to let her think it through, but also to disguise a growing blush. But over all that, she couldn’t stop herself from shuffling closer towards Luna’s side.
“Thou art bold to brag to Us… Twilight.”
Blunt and brutish were the Princess’ words and yet, unbelievably, she could hear a smile between them. She didn’t even need to look away to confirm it. Then, in those quiet and strangely warm moments, Twilight thought it quite paradoxical and funny that the Princess of the Sun, the one with so little under her reign, was actually considerably more extroverted than the one who had the entire universe as her domain.
It made sense. After all, she had all of ponykind with which to share her creation. But no one can walk among the stars.
————
The first rays of sunlight illuminated the highest silver tips of the towers of Canterlot. The Eve of Canterlot is upon Equestria, and someone has slept in.
Celestia’s mane shone in the dawning light of her star. Celestia had been trying to find her sister after a bizarrely moonless night, and chalked her disappearance to her inherent stubborn attitude towards anything even remotely social. Probably just off in some mountain range, meditating over the Moon all by herself.
But then she had sighted something among the fields below Canterlot. She pulled up to her reflecting telescope and took a look. She saw a pair of ponies, bundled up together with the smaller of the two under the other’s wing. A quite alicornian wing. Celestia grinned widely to herself, focusing the telescope just as a god-ray washed over the pair, abruptly forcing both awake. She isn’t so asocial after all, thought Celestia as she heard the distant delayed hollers of her most faithful student and her most beloved sister panicking over who leaned into whom.
