Love, elusive, out of grasp.
When at last, we found it,
Tucked away, hidden, fitting
Snugly behind fear and apprehension’s shadow.
Cajoled from its hiding space by your smile,
Cozied into our hooves by your kindness,
Coming into the light, by the sweet temptation of your presence.

Feather growled, face scrunched into something genuinely furious. Baring her teeth through her ink stained lips, she scrunched up the paper and swept it onto the floor with the others. She didn’t like that one. Blank verse, no rhyme, generic almost. Not even close to getting what she wanted. It would’ve actually helped matters if she knew exactly what she was looking for. She had leant over her desk for weeks, frantically writing in her sedulous pursuit of perfection. She always worked under the flickering blue flame of Luna’s candle, the only piece of the princess she dared expose herself to. Her eyes were dark with many sleepless nights. Her obsession occupied her every waking thought, and when she dared close her eyes to sleep, it even threatened to occupy her dreams. She felt shame, which was only exacerbated by her sparse cleaning. It wasn’t only her room – which now had a figurative knee high puddle of crumpled up papers – which was unkempt. Every precious minute prior to work, meant for the sole reason of preparing oneself for the day ahead with a filling breakfast and wash, was now spent reading and writing in a seemingly futile chase of perfection. Her work suffered, of course. She looked mad, muttering possible verses and growing visibly angry after said display. She worked much like an underpaid teen, paying little attention to what she was actually cleaning, mistaking the golden armour of the castle guard for a doorknob on more than one occasion. She could only offer apologies, with a voice lacking any sort of energy, before plodding away to clean or serve who she was commanded to.

I, in disgrace of your kindness,
Threw myself into the pit,
Consumed by its mournful darkness,
Wondering what needs to be lit,
To relight the flickering candle
Of your love, which I unjustly snuffed,
So I searched around for a handle,
The door which it opens will overstuff
Me with your grace.
Then, with our hearts no longer asunder,
I can look upon your face,
And our declarations of love loud as thunder.
No face will be unturned to our declaration,
And our magnificence will be felt throughout the nation.

Another failure. She grumbled, sighing sadly, her energy too vented to be angry. Generic, or boring, or lacking in any kind of originality. She constantly glanced to a prior example Luna had sent her. She couldn’t imagine the words eliciting any kind of emotional reaction from the princess, nothing good at least. She tried her best to make fit into rigid structures, and felt amateurish when she did. When she abandoned structure to write in blank verse, she saw no beauty in the lines, and no rhythm of any sort. She threw her latest mistake onto the floor, crushed into a ball to join the others. She increasingly grew doubtful at her ability to forge something even coming close to Luna’s work. Despite her growing despondency, she never wavered in her writing, never taking her eyes away from the page, the whites of her eyes, puffy and red.

Love, fully blossomed
Is the most precious treasure
For it is priceless.

After the word had dried on the paper, she felt something akin to a lightness in her limbs, as if a calm had swept over her. Her head began to lightly sway from side to side, the pen grasped between her teeth drawing untidy lines over the work; soon joined by a few droplets of drool from the corner of her mouth. It few seconds later her head became heavier than the rest of her, and decided to rest it upon the desk. Only for a few minutes, that was her unspoken mantra as she closed her eyes. She pressed her cheek on the desk, the pen still hanging in her open mouth. For the first time that day, for the first time in weeks, her breathing became relaxed…

When her eyes fluttered awake, it was the dawntime light that aroused her from slumber. She raised her weary head, the piece of paper she had written on was glued to her cheek with drool, and she looked around herself, wincing from the pain around her collar. She had slept with a crooked neck, rubbing away the aches for a few moments before she startled herself with the realisation that she had in-fact slept. She cringed, self-chastising as she pulled the paper off her face. She looked at what she wrote, and let it fall to the floor anyway. Yawning, she reached for another slice of crisp paper. Her pen had rolled and been stopped by the lantern; the candle within still flickering, almost dead. She’d have to change that as well.

Knock, knock.

The sudden noise from her door made her jump in surprise, earning a momentary glance of wide eyed confusion, before the mare’s face defaulted to a neutral frown. She left her chair, the papers crunching under hoof as she dawdled towards the door, too drowsy to feel anything active like the emotions of trepidation or excitement. “I’m coming,” she alerted monotone, voice a few decibels higher.

Peculiarly, when she reached the door, she felt a…heat, a soft warmth. The kind of warmth one would feel carried upon a summer night’s wind. A faint and pleasant sensation. It was felt at the bottoms of her hooves and chest, as if it was being fanned in through the gap at the bottom of the door. She reached out a hoof, somewhat warily, and opened her door a crack. She didn’t want stranger’s eyes peering into her room, or any eyes for that matter. She craned her head through, and came to eye a bright amethyst, encased within shiny gold. She saw her own reflection in the shiny piece of regalia, and watched gradually as her mouth parted and eyes widened, before she sent her sights up. Her body began to quiver, nervous and afraid.

“P-P-P-Pri-Prin-“ she stuttered like a worn vinyl record.

The alabaster mare held a hoof up to her mouth as a soft giggle escaped from it. “Hello. Feather Duster, was it?” Celestia greeted, smile as warm as her sun. “I was wondering if we could talk. May I come in?”

Feather was paralyzed. Why did the other half of the most important duo in Equestria decide to come knocking at her door? Feather supposed she didn’t need a reason. She was a princess, after all. She didn’t need a reason to do anything. “Y-you want to come in here? Into my room?”

“Yes, if it isn’t a bother,” Celestia answered, patiently, still wearing a soft smile.

“No! It’s not a bother at all! It’s just…” she trailed off, looking back into her room, cringing. “My place is kind of messy.”

“Oh, that isn’t a problem. You should’ve seen my youth, wrangling together all those straggler kingdoms and duchies into a single unified state. Now that was a mess,” Celestia chuckled softly, smiling toothlessly.

“Um, right… well, make yourself at home,” she forced a weak smile as she opened the door the rest of the way, retreating deeper into her small abode, allowing the monarch ample room to enter.

Celestia trot in, expression maintaining a passive smile. If she found Feather’s room displeasing, it wasn’t readable, no even slightly. “My, my,” Celestia remarked, looking at all the strewn papers, being careful not to trod on them. “You’re certainly a busy one, aren’t you?” she said humorously.

Feather closed the door with a grimace, an expression she made sure was hidden from the monarch. “Y-yep. That’s me. A busy… bee…” she trailed off, cringing at her words.

“You certainly are,” Celestia concurred, idly looking around the room.

“Do you want you sit on the bed? It’s not a throne exactly, but it’s better than sitting on the floor,” Feather offered, trying to backpedal on her nervousness.

“I will. Thank you,” Celestia said warmly, trotting to the bed – stepping over crumpled papers – before plotting her plot upon the sheets. As Feather took steps to join her, her brow twitched at the sight of the monarch’s face, the sight of a wry smile at the end of her muzzle. “This isn’t the… first time, a monarch has sat upon your bed, is it?”

Feather stopped in place, her hoof falling mid-step to crush a discarded ball of paper. She gulped. “N-n-no,” Feather admitted. “You know?” she squeaked, undecided on if she should cower in fear of the monarch’s neutral gaze, or somehow will herself out of existence before Celestia did it for her. At least with the former she might earn some mercy.

“I am aware of your relationship with my sister. But you needn’t be afraid,” Celestia assured, re-adorning a friendly smile. “It is impressive you managed to keep something so colossal a secret. In fact, I only became aware of it myself when I saw the both of you on the front page of the paper,” Celestia revealed. “If my sister’s youthful identity was more widely known, your relationship would be known across the country and beyond.”

“S-so you’re not… mad?” Feather asked quietly, fearing the sun monarch’s wrath like a foal would their parent’s scold.

Celestia glanced to the side, as if pondering something. “I was. After I discussed your relationship with Luna, I kept an eye on you.”

“You were watching me?” Feather posed the question with widened eyes, trying to keep her unnerved, and somewhat angry tone, restrained.

“Yes,” Celestia confirmed, looking back at Feather. “I care for my sister, and despite her astute perception, I worried that she might be blind to your… machinations. Perhaps you took from her bits, or bragged of your relationship to others. Maybe you hid a malevolent streak.”

“D-did you find anything?” Feather’s question was primarily driven by self-consciousness.

Celestia smirked. “No… well, not what I expected anyway,” Celestia said warmly. “I found a diligent young mare. Full of energy. Erudite - at least concerning books of poetry. But I also found something in myself. Worry,” Celestia informed, a crease appearing between her brows. “I abandoned subtlety at a point, simply watching you work from around hallway corners, wondering at what day those dark lines would fade from under your eyes.”

Feather wore a small smile. Celestia reminded her a little of mother. “I actually got some sleep last night.”

“Yes, well, magic makes the best sleeping aid I find,” Celestia retorted with a strained chuckle.

“You sent me to sleep?”

Celestia gave a half-smile, looking somewhat ashamed. “It wasn’t my first attempt. I applied less potent spell days ago, but you resisted it,” Celestia released a small laugh. “You have a strong will, Feather. I decided to apply it fully last night, but again, it appears you resisted it to the very end,” Celestia remarked, glancing to Feather’s desk, a small puddle of drool upon it. “But you’re dedicated, to say the least.”

“Thank you…?” Feather had mixed feelings about the princess using magic on her without her permission, but she knew the monarch’s heart was in the correct place at the very least. But she doubted this was the reason for her visiting. “But, if you’re not mad, why are you here?”

The smile disappeared from Celestia’s features, which put a degree of unease into Feather. Celestia sighed, frowning. “I know that Luna… proposed. To you, and I apologise for that. I am partly, if not wholly, responsible.”

The revelation of this forced Feather into a more upright sitting position, her lips parted and her brows furrowed. “Y-you… what?”

Celestia glanced away, frowning. “I… I am capable of great cruelty, Feather. Sometimes, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I say something impulsively. I saw the repercussions of my actions the very same night she asked you.”

She was still taken aback, but the mention of Luna – her love – and ‘repercussions’ sparked concern in her. “What do you mean?”

“Watching you, I know that you haven’t gone to see Luna, so you simply didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“…Our sister has disappeared,” Celestia revealed. “The moon still falls and rises and its hour, but its steward is nowhere to be found.”

“Luna is missing!” Feather already knew the answer, she just heard it, but the shock still caught her all the same. She rose to her hooves, stepping forward with knitted brows. “Do you know where she is? Or why she left?”

“Your worry for Luna is warming, but I’m afraid to say that I have not an inkling,” Celestia answered, giving the maid a half-smile of reassurance. “But you don’t need to worry. This isn’t the first time my sister has disappeared without a word. She’ll be back, in time…”

“You came here to tell me that?” Feather frowned.

Celestia sighed, her smile fading. “No,” Celestia said, bluntly, before gesturing to the spot next to her on the bed. “Sit, if you would.”

Feather nodded, immediately complying, her heart full of worry. She hopped onto her bed, sitting next to the monarch with a slight gap, the size difference making her feel like a filly next to a full-grown mare. She looked up to Celestia, steeling some courage in her belly. “Should I be w-worried, Your Majesty?”

Celestia was silent, in thinking, before she shot the maid a curious look. “Do you know the story of why my sister was banished a millennia ago?”

Feather blinked. The question came as a surprise to her. She didn’t expect to be answering questions about history. “She, uh, gave in to pride… or jealousy? And it corrupted her, right?”

Celestia nodded. “Yes. But in truth, it wasn’t just misplaced thoughts of neglect and envy. You see, the corruption isn’t just borne of a single strong emotion. Everyday ponies feel joy, sadness, anger. If that was the only prerequisite, we would have a new Nightmare every day.”

Feather tilted her head. “Then what happened?”

Celestia gave Feather a small frown. “Luna was in mourning.”

Feather leaned in slightly closer, brows furrowed and mimicking the princess’ frown. “Mourning?”

“The corruption latched onto her pride, yes, but it needed more than that to snatch a hold of my sister’s soul…” Celestia began ominously, taking a deep breath. “Luna had, and still has, a strong will. A will, that back then, under the weight of another’s death, crumbled in just a single day,” Celestia explained, somber. “When the Nightmare began to take Luna’s body as her own, my sister didn’t even put up a fight. She was experiencing a new kind of sorrow. A grief that was new to her. She would weep, whilst destroying entire rooms of the castle in her fury. She refused my solace, and even began to resent me, openly admonishing me in front of our citizens. She threw anypony who dared look at her in the dungeons, and would spend days – unresponsive – on her bed. She stopped bathing, eating. I had to take up her mantle, lowering and raising the moon in tandem with my sun, which only served to stoke the flames of her hate. I never relented in my attempts to offer her comfort, even when she threatened me with harm… but after that day, there was no help I could have offered her to save her from what she would become.”

“Who was she mourning?” Feather asked delicately.

“Somepony she... she loved,” Celestia revealed with tightened jaw, looking at Feather solemnly. “Luna fell in love with a glassmaker. Brittle Beauty. She was a kind mare. I still have a few of her ornaments. When she passed, I mourned her too, but unlike Luna I knew how to accept loss.”

Feather heard considerable sadness hanging on her last words, almost compelling her to embrace the larger mare, but she stayed herself. “How did she die?” she asked delicately.

“Time’s decay,” the monarch answered. “Time to an immortal is fleeting, and we need not worry for time to take us to the beyond. But for a mortal. It is inevitable, an unfortunate truth I came to accept when Luna proclaimed her love of the mare to me. But when Brittle was finally taken, Luna did not think it was fair.”

“Oh…” Feather spoke softly, frowning, picturing her lover’s sorrow.

“Brittle was Luna’s first love. I thought she would end up being the last. But then you happened, Feather,” Celestia offered a meek smile, “happy, kind and clever. It’s not hard to see why Luna fell for you, but…” Celestia paused, releasing a small exhale.

“What?” Feather replied, looking at the princess’ solemn expression.

“Luna disappeared after she proposed to you… and I know that you rejected it,” Celestia spoke, and as she did, Feather felt her heart sink in her chest. “You know what I fear, Feather. I fear that which happened a thousand years ago will come to pass again. You might have rejected her, but I can see your love for her still burns. And if I know Luna, I’d say her love for you still roars, as well.”

Feather averted her gaze, her expression pained, staring at one of her balled up poems. “You want me to break up with her…”

The uncomfortable silence that marked the princess’ inferred proposition lingered for a few moments, and Feather’s expression tightened. “A facet of love, Feather, is sacrifice,” Celestia spoke softly, “in the end, it’s the only way to stop Luna from suffering, Feather. She would love you from now to the end of eternity if she could. But time isn’t kind to love, Feather.”

Feather sniffled. “Please…”

“Yes?” Celestia replied quickly, sounding attentive.

“Please leave,” Feather requested, her voice oscillated between stern and sad, her face failing to hold a scowl.

Celestia’s face flashed an expression of surprise, before a slight frown replaced it. She got off the bed without retort, making her way to the door at a relaxed pace. Feather heard the hum of the princess’ magic and her door creaking open, followed by another step but then a sudden stop. “If it means anything, Feather. I’m happy that Luna found a mare that makes her smile…”

The princess closed the door behind her, leaving Feather alone. Feather sat there, and she tried, but with the princess gone the feeble dam holding back her tears was broken and she began weeping into her hooves. She fell onto her side, holding herself as she sobbed. Through her tear filled eyes, she landed her sights upon the lantern. The candle inside it, whose flame she was trying to preserve, was nothing more than a puddle of wax…

“Trottingham...” Luna muttered with no discernable tone as she stepped off her carriage onto the city’s streets. Luna had a faint memory of settlement from her youth. It was established on an island – or rather, ‘rock’ - of great dispute. It was a rainy, glum, and not too pleasing of a place. It had no natural resources – except an abundance of infrequently useful granite – no strategic advantage, nor possessing of any pleasing vistas that would make it, at the very least, worthy of tourism. No, rather, Trottingham was established as a commune of spite, personally founded by one Art Fur to cause great headache for both the twin monarchs of Equestria, and the Griffon kings and all their subsequent successors. In hindsight, simply removing the settlement would have saved Luna centuries of head aches, and meandering meetings with whichever Griffon claimed the throne that century. Upon remembering the inconvenience of the village – now city – proved to be... she felt a small smile come to her lips.

“Do you need an escort, Your Majesty?” a stallion’s voice sounded behind her, one of her guard, and fliers. She travelled via carriage with two of her guard – chosen at random – and had been in their company for a few weeks now. She had spoken infrequently with them, keeping conversation sparse to just orders. She had learnt their names – Keen and Clean Cut – in passive passing, and took the opportunity to practice being in ease in the company of… plebs. This also came with the minor ache of sharing a room with the two. To help maintain discretion of the whole affair, of course.

“No,” she answered promptly, surveying the desolate street laid out before her. Her horn lit up at the tip with a blue hue, pulling the hood of the cloak she was wearing over her head. It was a ragged thing, to hide the regal creature within. She then turned to face the guard – the other freeing himself from the carriage – wearing a soft smile. “Thou dost have our thanks for thy concern. We will be sure to reward thou for thy diligence.”

The grey stallion blinked, glancing back to his wide-eyed partner, a crack in their porcelain-like stoicism. “Um, uh… you’re w-welcome...?” the guard – she knew as Keen - replied, looking back at Luna with a skewed expression, before catching himself; stiffening, resuming his blank stony face. “Your Majesty!”

“Ease,” Luna commanded with a smirk. “If thou wisheth to be a statue, we are possessing of a multitude of spells to fulfil thee.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” he complied, easing, just as the second stallion walked to join him at his side.

Luna looked over them both with a firm jaw, her lip tugged slightly, hinting at a smile. “We art cordial, but if thou mistakes this for an allowance of negligence in any area of thy duties, the punishment will be severe.”

They nodded. “We understand, Your Majesty.”

“And if thou – both – were to reveal details of this night, and those leading up to it, to anyone. We will not hesitate to break the rack’s fast of torture,” Luna threatened, the firmness of her expression wavering slightly. Our damnable malice. Pitious shame that secrecy demands it. “Dost thou understand us clearly?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the pair replied, bowing their heads low, the tip of their lavender ridged helmets pressing against the concrete of the pavement.

Luna sighed through her nose, watching them rise before adorning a small smile. “Capital,” she stated, restrained but spirited, trying to diffuse their visible unease. “Now, thou may take liberty in accompanying us.”

“Your Majesty?” the recently unbridled stallion, Clean Cut, said.

“Thou is not held to obligation,” Luna replied.

“I thought you said you didn’t need an escort, Your Highness?” Cleat Cut spoke, confused.

“Aye, we did. But what we art extending be not an order for escort, but a choice between staying or following,” Luna explained. “We cannot imagine that thou will achieve much merriment standing here, waiting for our return.”

“Shouldn’t somepony look after the carriage, your Maje-”

“I’ll come, Your Highness,” Clean Cut spoke out suddenly, interrupting Keen and taking a small step forwards. “The Gilded Accessory, right? That’s a bar?”

Luna heard the excitement in his words, and glanced the sudden deflated look in his partner. “Pub, more accurately. But we suppose that the difference is minimal. It should offer a moment of respite and joy before thou take leave for the Grand Galloping Gala ‘fore year’s end. The choice to follow is more an offer for a night of fun,” she finished, punctuating ‘fun’ as she looked to Keen with a smile. “This is a rare offer, young Keen. Thou...” she paused, almost struggling to force out what she wanted to say to the cadet, trying to drop for a moment her chivalric value of duty. Calm, composed, Luna. Only a single utterance of such a sordid thing. “...Thou would be wise to momentarily forget thy duty for a few precious hours of drink-fuelled frolic.” As the sentence left her mouth, and she adopted a forced smile, she tried to combat the desire to clamp her teeth on her tongue.

“O-Okay,” Keen stuttered, cautiously smiling. “Sure. I’ll come, Your Maje-”

Luna raised a hoof, her mouth tightening along with the rest of her thoughtful expression. “This easing in thy duties hath brought to surface another issue we must come to reconcile.”

“Your Majesty?” Clean Cut spoke with a raised brow.

“Precisely that, in fact,” Luna replied. “Our sister hath had millennia to become accustomed to… a casual demeanour with our subjects. We loathe it, but to help keep a promise, we should try to do the same – much as it grieves us – so for as long as we remain in Trottingham, thou may forget we art a monarch.”

“...” they both remained quiet, looking at Luna with skewed expressions.

“What?” Luna uttered after a few seconds of quiet, chin raised.

“No offence, Your Majesty. But that’s easier said than done,” Clean Cut answered, wearing a strained smile.

“What he said, Your Majesty,” Keen concurred, forcing a grin.

Luna furrowed her brows. We make it difficult to regard us as anything other than monarch? Our sister hath a softer composition, but we fail to see her technique. Even now, despite our extended kindness, we still see the fear that lingers within... Luna noted, wearing a slight frown. “We comprehend thee. These things take time, and believe us, we are intimate with it. But come now, follow. We have tarried here for too long already.” The guards nodded, and Luna turned her back on them, walking ahead; leading them ahead on the gaslit streets...

The trio walked for a quarter of an hour in silence. The sounds of their hoofsteps echoing against the walls of the long, narrow and empty streets. Luna eyed with scrutiny every passing alley, and looked occasionally at the lamps with squinted eyes, trying to discern will-o-wisps of the flickering fire. She seldom saw lights from buildings, and even fewer examples of life at all. She could occasionally see silhouettes behind curtains, and the hum of a pigeon sleeping in some of the passing gutters. The city had a peculiar effect on her. This place… tis almost as if we art looking into a mirror. The cobble, quiet, and eerie atmosphere all amalgamated into a disconnected type of nostalgia. She drew parallels between herself and Trottingham. Much like her, Trottingham appeared to be of a different era. She could recognise that, even if she wasn’t apart of it. No building, aside from an off distant clock tower, went above three stories in height. Architectural restraint, humility, or even pragmatism. Luna had a soft admiration for the city, but its desolate streets – and cold air – left her passive-faced with a tinge of frown.

“This city sleeps. Deeply. Not a soul wanders,” Luna remarked, aloud.

“It isn’t exactly Manehatten, Your Majesty,” Clean Cut agreed, speaking behind her, on her right flank.

“Yeah, I can’t possibly seeing any kind of nightlife thriving here, Your Majesty,” Keen added.

“Disappointing,” Luna commented, just in time to see the lights flicker out in a nearby home. “Was this disguise for nought? We could have walked these roads naked, shooting fireworks, and still nary an eye would look upon us.”

“You have two pairs, at the very least, Your Majesty,” Clean Cut commented.

Luna grinned, looking to the amber-eyed stallion. “True.”

The trio continued walking, again, in silence. More moments passed, some turns were made onto streets equally indistinguishable from the rest, exempting the street signs which labelled them in faded green paint. Luna’s expression remained neutral, ticking off the street names in her head, knowing that she grew ever closer to her intended destination. She had to restrain her movements, to stop herself from breaking out into a gallop, or flapping her wings.

“Your...” Luna heard Keen begin behind her, and she glanced back, semi-interested. Keen scrunched his lips together, as if toying over something, before he finally looked back up from the ground with a semi-tilted head. “Luna. Why are we here?”

By our sister’s rotund flank, he actually did it? Luna kept her expression passive, trying her best to keep her lips straight against a desire to smile. “Well, thou have sworn to secrecy our being here. Our purpose for being here would only be a secret that thou would burden for a short time. Very well. We come here not for merriment in a local pub, but rather to meet our lover’s parents.”

“...” Luna looked at his wide-eyed expression passively, before staring back ahead, wearing a smile she was hopeful they couldn’t see.

“What?” Clean Cut suddenly asked. “You have a consort, Your Majesty?”

“We prefer ‘love of our life,’ but yes,” Luna responded.

“Who is he?” Keen asked, broken from his shock, audibly interested. “A butler? A guard? A foreign diplomat?”

Clean Cut scoffed. “Methinks you’ve been reading too many stories, Keen. Her Majesty would only take the most worthy as a consort. It has to be a prince, or a noble.”

“Young Keen is closer to the answer than thou, Cut,” Luna chortled, looking back to Clean. “Only the young can fathom love’s indiscriminate reach – as fantastical it may be – and oft fiction is closer to reality.”

“So, who is he then?” Keen asked, excited, taking a few eager steps forward; almost walking alongside the monarch.

“She’s a maid,” Luna revealed, wearing a proud smile.

“Oh,” uttered Keen.

“Ha!” scoffed Clean Cut. “Have you read that anywhere, Keen?”

“In a few places actually….” Keen muttered, Luna catching his reddened cheeks before he slowed down, walking behind her again.

“Take no offence. Thou can assume why we prefer the mare’s soft, delicate frame, over the rugged hardness of a stallion,” she chuckled, the two stallions smiling awkwardly at monarch's casualness. “But, to elaborate. Our reason for meeting her parents is one of obligation, one we ignored because of a weak moment of passion,” Luna alluded.

“You proposed to her, didn’t you, Your Majesty?” Clean Cut postulated.

“Yes. And she denied us...” Luna responded, melancholic. “But, in our haste, we came to realise we had not yet done enough to earn her love. And we made the foolish err in judgement by not getting the blessing of her father prior. The proposal was cursed from the beginning, a flawed act.”

“Hmm. I wonder how the father is going to react?” Keen asked rhetorically. “Hey, Clean, how’d you react to the colt asking for your blessing?”

“I wanted to knock him upside the head,” Clean answered honestly. “Some feckless Canterlot busybody wanted to marry my daughter. He was a bloody baker, with a stupid voice and a stupid moustache.” Luna looked back at him with furrowed brows and widened eyes, being filled with a sudden apprehension about the whole affair. Clean Cut glanced at her face and visibly forced a smile. “I gave him the blasted blessing.”

“Why?” Keen asked. “Sounds like you hated his guts.”

“Oh, I do. But I’d have been heartless to refuse the colt who put a smile on my daughter’s face. Day after day, for almost two years, I had to listen to her insufferable praising of the guy… I’m sure your lass is the exact same with her parents, Your Majesty” Clean Cut said, looking to Luna.

Luna furrowed her brows. “Only three, now five, ponies alive know of our relationship,” Luna informed, “her parents are not within that five.”

“Oh,” Clean Cut responded, sounding uneasy. “You must have been keeping this relationship secret for years then if you feel so strongly about her? I doubt that father would be apprehensive to come in-between such a long-lasting relationship, Your Majesty,” Clean Cut assured.

“We hath been intimate with one another since the end of June,” Luna replied, staring back at the stallion with a raised brow.

“It’s November,” Keen stated, obviously, Luna catching his glance to the other stallion.

“Indeed it is,” Clean Cut muttered with a nervous chuckle, look off somewhere to the side.

“What is wrong with half a year? Tis a lot more liberal than a thousand years ago,” Luna probed, brow raised.

“W-well, i-it’s just, well,” Clean Cut stuttered, the aged bat-stallion twitching in the face.

“Half a year is pretty quick by, uh… modern standards,” Keen put delicately, smiling despite Luna’s slight scowl.

“Thou both sound just like our sister,” Luna rolled her eyes. “Back when we were but a filly, couples would first meet in the morning, and by evening time come they would already be engaged to be wed. And we thought we were being progressive by suggesting they wait a few weeks. Six months is more than enough time to know somepony completely, and if love hath struck both parties, why wait for the inevitable?”

“Your Majesty, in your position, I don’t think it matters if the father is happy with it or not. You are, after all, a princess,” Clean Cut stated. “Heck, I don’t think any stallion has the will to refuse you, Your Highness.”

Luna frowned at this. “We do not want to order a father to put his daughter’s life into my hooves, nor pressure his acceptance with fear; nor do we wish for avarice, or perceived self gains, to fuel his answer,” Luna explained. “We want his approval; respect; we… we...“

“Want to be liked?” Keen finished, offering a lukewarm grin.

Luna sighed, her posture sagging slightly. “Yes. Tis an embarrassing sentiment, caring for the opinions of strangers. But soon, we won’t be. Our relation to him be kin through bond of marriage.”

Keen smirked. “Having a princess for a daughter-in-law. You have to think twice about ‘knocking them upside the head’,” he quipped; glancing to Clean Cut with a grin.

“Your Majesty, when that dolt of a colt came to me, he had the biggest, dumbest, beam of a grin on his face. I didn’t know what he was smiling about, and just seeing it made me sneer. The first words out of his mouth, was: ‘Mr. Cut, may I have the privilege of taking your daughter’s hoof in marriage.’ And just like that, I knew why he was smiling,” Clean Cut revealed, Luna looking back at him with a crease in her brow. “If this fella can see your love for his daughter plainly, then, well, ya know…”

“...Are you sure you don’t read, Cut?” Keen asked, semi-seriously, releasing a small chortle. “That sounded… tacky.”

Clean Cut grumbled, but Luna chuckled, glancing back at the older stallion. “My, it would appear thou dost possess an understanding of love. We art sorry for presuming thou possessing a feckless knowledge of such matters.”

“Yeah, yeah...” he mumbled, snorting, before reciprocating Luna’s luck with a small smile.“Your Majesty.”

Luna smirked at the guard’s deportment, giving the stallion a nod before she fixed her sights forward again. She held a smile as she continued to lead them, a smile which faded at an intersection and at the twitching of her own ear. “We hear-”

“Music?” Keen questioned, joining Luna at her side.

“At this time of night; in this city?” Clean Cut added, walking beside the monarch. “I’d expect the only tune played here would be a swan song. Who’s playing music at this time of night?”

Luna didn’t say anything, instead taking some inquisitive steps forward; her interest piqued by the warm, glowing light from the left street on the intersection. She turned the corner, the sounds of her own hoofsteps and of those following became muted in comparison to melody coming down the street. She glanced at the street sign. ‘Limerick.’ She was heading in the right direction. “Follow. We be close.” The monarch’s pace picked up, the music almost acting like a siren call, leading her onwards. She could soon see the source of the light, which shone like a lone piece of gold amongst coal. “That’s it…”

“The Gilded Accessory,” Keen spoke, quiet, his voice intoning a degree of wonderment.

Construction-wise, it was homogeneous with the rest of the city’s aesthetic; built of a same faded red brick, adjoined to the buildings either side of it. There, a large hanging sage sign; the name painted on with a bright gold colour. Neither were faded, and the monarch deduced it was freshly repainted. Secondly, unlike the rest of the slumbering city, it was awake and alive. Behind every window there was the movement of shadows and silhouettes. Alongside music, she heard voices; audible merriment, either as laughter or the rhythmic stamping of hooves – obviously dancing – and Luna couldn’t help but feel excited; instinctively smiling.

“It would appear that our love was not exaggerating,” Luna remarked.

Keen took a few steps forward, a twinkle in his eye. “Shall we go in?” he asked, staring at the pub with an unwavering gaze.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Clean asked, unmoving from his spot beside the monarch.

Both Luna and Keen directed a look at Cut, each expression raising a singular bow. “What?” they both asked. A crease formed between Cut’s brows, his face scrunching up slightly to one side. He simply gestured to his face, pointing at his eye before tapping his helmet. “Oh...”

“Yeah, we do stand out now that you mention it,” Keen said bashfully, giving a wry smile.

“We can fix this predicament. If thou do not mind a change of face,” Luna informed, as she did this, she saw Keen’s small smile turn into a frown; his expression one of distaste.

“That’s going to involve magic, isn’t it?” Keen asked, not sounding pleased.

Clean Cut released a long, overdrawn exhale. “Magic. Not natural. No offence, Your Majesty.”

As he finished that, Luna glanced to his thin membranous wings before looking back at his grimacing expression, deadpan. “If thou wish to take part in fine drink and conversation of this establishment, then both of thee will have to wear illusions.”

Clean Cut groaned like a petulant foal, his lips pursed. “I wouldn’t like to miss out, Your Majesty. I think I can stomach it... so long as I have plenty of drink.”

Luna chuckled at his ending remark, and looked expectantly at Keen, who wore an uneasy smile. “And thou?”

Keen sighed, before shrugging; increasing the size of his grin. “Sure. Just, uh… let me brace myself.”

“Certainly,” she acquiesced, giving a singular nod, watching with bemusement as the stallion braced himself; as if preparing for an incoming tidal wave.

Keen was joined by Clean, who stood at his side with a considerably softer posture; casting an apprehensive look to the younger stallion. “Remember to breathe, kid,” Clean advised with a good natured smile.

“Yep,” Keen replied with a squeak, adamantly resisting the urge to inhale.

Before Keen could make himself dizzy with lack of air, Luna concentrated magic into her horn – the sight making Clean Cut cringe – and she fired two beams of blue shimmering light at the them. The transformation was gradual, requiring a bit of fine tuning from Luna. Their armours turned into cloaks and capes, their membranous wings joined seamless into their new apparel – giving them a look of faux leather; their helms melded to their heads as violet manes. She momentarily pondered on their coats, deciding to have a little fun; giving Keen a fresh sage coat whilst Clean Cut was given a beige shade. Finally, their cat-like irises, alert and threatening to the easily scared, rounded into harmless and unthreatening circles. “There!” she declared proudly, magic retreating into her horn. “Both of thee would fool even the most astutely perceptive.”

The stallions, newly shaped, looked to one another with widened stares; mouths dropping in reaction. Clean Cut remained still, marvelled, whilst Keen sat on his plot; looking at his extended hooves with wide-eyed fascination. “Woah,” Keen muttered, sending his hooves to his head, ruffling his own mane; releasing an exhale that one could mistake for a weak, curt, chuckle. “This is… this is...”

“Weird?” Clean offered, looking at his newly fashioned cloak. “This is all magic, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. Now all eyes who look upon thee will see those belonging to Earth,” Luna replied.

Keen looked to Luna with his new face, and tilted it. “What about you?”

Luna arched a brow. “What about us?”

“You don’t look exactly, uh... inconspicuous,” Keen said, delicately.

Luna raised her chin, pouting somewhat. “Our cloak will serve us.”

“Uh, I’m with, Keen,” Clean Cut concurred with his partner. “Even hiding your form, you’re still tall. At best, you’d be mistaken for a Saddle Arabian, at worst, the princess of the night. Your Majesty.”

Luna looked between the two of them, stoic faced. “We… we are excited at the prospect of getting caught,” she told them. A lie… is it? Maybe it becometh truth when we art intoxicated.

“Oh...” Clean replied, looking between Luna and the ground. “I’ll go make sure it’s safe for entry, Your Majesty.” With that, he left with hurried steps.

Luna then cast an eye to Keen, who grinned with a perplexed expression. “And thou?” Luna asked, raised brow.

“Y-yeah, I’ll go, uh… do the thing,” he informed her, walking backwards a few steps – smiling coyly – before turning into a slight gallop; catching up with his partner.

Luna sighed, thankful for the hood to hide the tinge of red that came to her cheeks. White lies. Who invented such a thing? Tis a piteous shame such a spell is taxing, even to us. We must keep them in our mind, keep them hidden, so we do not deprive them of the fun which this night can bring. The monarch followed behind her guard, lagging behind them.

As the door was opened, the volume of the interior poured out – as well as smoke - making Luna recoil slightly in surprise. She strode in behind the duo of stallions, wary stepped. The pub was packed full. Dozens, no doubt, although it could have been easily mistaken for a hundred. Everywhere she looked she saw energy, smiles, and most unsurprisingly, drinking.

“Very busy place they have here,” Clean Cut observed, releasing a good-natured chuckle.

Luna scanned the place, almost overwhelmed by the number of things going on. The sounds of many conversations, loud and discreet, and of course the song and stomping hooves. The air thick with sweet smelling smoke, and myriad spirits; all of which she could taste on her tongue. Even the air was comfortably warm. Despite all this, her eyes were of course drawn to the stage and to the more youthful patrons and couples dancing before it. As some customers banged their hooves on table tops in tempo to the music, ponies danced to it, often relying on the weight of a partner to skip merrily around the floor. She then glanced the music players, the band which Feather spoke fondly of. She arched a brow upon looking at them. She recognised the instruments. A Bouzouki, flute, accordion and fiddle. Instruments that were difficult to play a sad tune on. However, her raised brow was prompted not by the assortment of instruments, but by the player of the bouzouki. A griffon? A rare sight in Equestria… although, we would be dullard to not suspect one being found on the ‘Griffon Isle. The rest of the band were ponies, a couple carrying signs of age. Either they carried it gracefully, like the mare fiddler, or proudly, like the accordionist, whose mane and beard were a powdery grey. The most similar trait shared between them were the large smiles they wore, and the glances they directed at each other. The flute player, however, was the odd one out. She was a mare younger than those who surrounded her, who exuded a cheery joviality in the way she played: eyes closed, and smiling as she played her instrument gaily.

Luna tore her eyes away, mouth slightly ajar. Bosh to walking bare through Trottingham. There art enough sights and things here that we could proclaim ourself and not attract a single curious eye. She looked to the bar, where a few ponies sat. Some drank, others were asking for drinks. Behind it, wearing a smile upon her slightly wrinkled face, was a mare with an uncanny familiarity. She looked to Clean Cut, who looked around the abode with a visible fascination. “Clean Cut… Clean!” she reiterated, slightly louder, breaking the stallion from his stupor.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty?” Clean replied, his new white cheeks gaining a tinge of pink to them.

“We hath spotted the mother,” Luna told him.

“Where?”

“The tender at the bar. The resemblance to our love is uncanny,” Luna spoke, nodding in the mare’s direction.

Clean looked around Luna, curling his lower lip and nodding approvingly. “Quite a fox. For a pegasus anyway. Your wife-to-be must be quite a catch, Your Highness,” Clean commended, giving a small laugh.

“Thy words flatter us. Mayhaps thou will further please us with a task of minutia scale.”

“What would that be, Your Majesty?” Clean asked, his face straightening; dutiful.

Luna smirked. “Go buy thyself a pint of whatever thou fancy, and be happy. If between sips, thou have clarity, try to inquire about her husband,” she instructed with a non-committal tone, “but this is just a request. Not an order.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” Clean replied, smiling warmly. “I’ll come straight to you if I learn anything from the missus.”

As he trailed off, Luna turned to Keen. “We ask something similar of thee, if thou cou- Keen?” The younger stallion was smiling bashfully; looking off somewhere in the distance. Luna followed his line of sight, coming to land on a crimson haired mare, who sipped coyly on her drink. Glancing at him again, and smirking, Luna left; allowing him to ogle. To smite the smitten would attract the ire of Cadenza. We gave expectations of fun to the colt. We won’t tear him from it.

Luna left the young Keen’s side and steered herself in, being careful to allow anypony an overly long look at her face. They may have been intoxicated, but it would take the dangerously plastered to not recognise the princess of the moon. She kept an eye out for a unicorn stallion with blue eyes, for a familiar hue she could never forget. She’d look to a table, trying to discern if the stallion possessed the correct shade of blue before moving on. She moved from table to table, trying to be discreet. All the while, things continued on around her. The band moved on to a new song, the dancing continued, and her determined expression gradually became a happy one. The mirth was contagious. Perhaps we can return here with Feather one day...

Suddenly, mid-step, Luna felt a tug on her cloak; bringing her to a stop. “It’s quite unsettling, you know?” she heard a stallion’s voice behind her, posh and firm. “Hiding your face under a hood. Strangers who keep their faces hidden either want trouble or are hiding from it. And considering you’re eyeing every patron in here, methinks aiming for the former.”

Luna took a breath. Such insolence. Remain calm, and keep discreet. “We would appre-”

“’We?’ Is there more than one of your under there?” the stallion chuckled at his witticism, tugging on her cloak with a light grip – no doubt magic. “That would explain your size.”

Luna’s eye twitched, her jaw tightening into a furious sneer. She turned, slowly, with deliberate steps to come face-to-face with vexatious upstart. The stallion was stocky, with a neatly trimmed beard and tied back mane. His coat was crimson red, and he wore upon his face – under the thick, distinct hairs on his face – a small smile. Luna held her scowl as she looked him in the eye, her mouth parting to unleash a poisonous remark. A threat, or insult, something to make the stallion stand down. However, as she looked him in the eye, she got a haunting feeling of familiarity; her tense body suddenly relaxing, the realisation dawning on her. Eyes like sapphires. “Thou...”

“’Thou?’” he repeated back to her in a scoff, “who do you think you are? Old royalty? You sound almost like Princess Lu… na...” he trailed off, his smile – and self-confident expression – faltering into wide-eyed and tight-lipped stare. He retreated back a step, shaking, his legs undecided on whether to fall or remain rigidly straight.

“Vintner, honey, this bloke wants to speak with you,” the voice of an accented mare sounded from behind the shocked stallion. Luna’s eyes glanced to look at the voice’s owner. A pegasus, with a lily white coat and a mane which reminded Luna of autumn leaves. She came to a stop alongside the petrified stallion. “Oh, who’s your friend?” she asked him, her warm smile faltering a tad upon seeing his terrified expression. The mare then glanced to Luna, brows furrowed and lips tightened. “Who’er you?” she asked, voice raised slightly, taking a defiant step toward Luna.

“Silky,” Vintner began, his eyes unwavering from Luna’s, “don’t make a scene.”

“Huh, why?” she questioned, hushed, worried. She cast an eye to Luna, who gave a strained smile, her eyes squinting as she leant forward slightly. “You look familiar? You a musician or somethin’? What kind of coward hides their face?”

Vintner leant towards his wife, refusing to break eye contact with the monach. “T-that’s-”

“Her Majesty, Princess Luna,” Clean Cut interjected in a whisper, leaning close to the mare. “Raiser of the moon, co-banisher of Discord, mare of the night, dream strider, banisher of nightmares, artist of the stars, moon craft-”

“That’s quite enough, Cut,” Luna hushed, glancing to make sure the guard’s quiet introduction didn’t attract any attention. We hath that many titles?

“I called the Princess fat,” Vintner muttered, stepping backwards with a flinch.

“We… we… I just called the princess a coward…” Silky squeaked, recoiling back a step – much like a husband – staring Luna right in the face.

Luna pursed her lips, hoping her nervousness was hidden under the shadow of her hood. Not off to the grandest of starts. Mother and father are afeared. We would rather anger fill their hearts than such a pitiable emotion. We can nought but picture these faces on either side of the wedding aisle. “Worry not. We hold no grudges, nor brunt offence.”

A sigh of relief escaped both their lips, and Silky took a step forwards, expression considerably softer. “I’m sorry, Your Highne-”

Luna raised a hoof, wearing a small smile. “We must beg thee for subtlety, so keep our title from escaping thy lips. Nopony within the demesne must know of our being here, for we are upon an undertaking of utmost secrecy.”

“A secret mission?” Vintner reiterated, interested. “In our pub? Are you meeting with a fence, or an informant, Your Majesty?”

“If you need our help we’d be happy to lend a hoof. I consider myself a patriot. I’ve also read my fair share of spy novels, Your Majesty,” Silky offered. “Also, the only difference between an alchemist and bartender are were they work, Your Majesty,” she ended by grinning slyly.

Luna smiled. “We are happy at thy enthusiasm. But our mission is humble in its purpose, and both of thee are vital for its completion.”

“Well, no offence, Your Majesty, not to imply I’m going against your judgement, but I can’t imagine what I can help you with. Well, besides quenching your thirst and giving you a full belly,” Vintner said. “If you want to rent out the pub, Your Majes-”

Luna raised a hoof, smiling warmly. “The matter for which we need of thee, regards thy daughter.”

“Feather? Is she okay? She’s not in trouble is she?” Vintner questioned, his voice hardened; taking a step towards the monarch.

“Last we heard from her was months ago. We were getting worried,” Silky said, in a voice softer than her husband’s. “If you have news of here, we would appreciate it, Your Majesty.”

The dichotomy between their expressions prompted an awkward grin from Luna. “We would be happy to discuss this… in private. Dost thou have such a place, and perhaps a tender for the bar?”

“Aye, we do,” Silky confirmed.

“Good,” she affirmed, before looking to Clean Cut. “Go now, enjoy thyself.”

“Right away, Your Majesty,” Clean gave a low nod – short of a full bow – before leaving the trio.

“Vintner, take Her Majesty upstairs. I’ll go grab Citrus and join you after,” Silky instructed, giving the princess a discreet curtsy before departing.

“Lead the way,” Luna instructed, “we follow thee.”

“Right. Follow me, Your Highness,” Vintner beckoned, pivoting and turning on the princess, moving discreetly – Luna following in tow.

Vintner led her upstairs; soon the festivities of the pub below became nothing more than a muffled hum to the monarch’s ears. Vintner, loudly and repeatedly, apologised for the quality of the dwelling – which Luna, with the same frequency, had to dispel and reassure. The stallion was, unsurprisingly, insistent that the monarch take the couch to herself, and rather than waste minutes of added reassurance and attempts at humility, she took his offer of hospitality. She chose to sit politely, leaning on the left arm, rather than splay herself across the entire width. She kept a straight posture, trying to put on respectable display Tis a difficult thing. Acting dignified with a different sort of airs. We must look him in the eye; with a lowered chin, rather than pout; a small smile to portray friendliness. We are not above him, just as we are not above our sister, or our love.

“Would you like some tea, Your Highness?” Vintner offered. “Maybe some juice? I’m sure there’s some muffins in the hamper. I know, it isn’t exactly up to the quality I’m sure you’re used to, but-”

“Thou need not offer us anything, we are content as we are. And while we admire thy humility, thou should not regard thyself as ‘lower,’” she assured. “A home well kept is better than any castle. We imagine that thou hath a bounty of good memories here. And if thy daughter, Feather, grew up in this abode, we cannot fathom a place of higher excellence.”

Vintner gave a smile, a probable blush hidden under his red coat and beard. “Thank you, princess. That means a lot. From what ponies mutter of you – and I hope you take no offence to this – I wasn’t such a… easygoing reception.”

Luna nodded. “Yes, well, while we do not appreciate the ‘mutters,’ there is an element of truth to them. We are venomous and weighed down by our own hubris. If it were not thee we turned to face in particular, our rage might have gotten the better of us. We cannot easily forego our station for kindness and meekness like our sister. We are trying to learn through experience our sister’s demeanour of courtesy...” she finished, and soon after, smirked. “Tis a funny thing. I practised my first act of courtesy for thy daughter. She hath been a great help in that regard, and fans my endeavour to become a better mare.”

“The more I hear you talk, Your Majesty, the more I’m intrigued by my daughter. Have the two of you become friends? If so, that must be quite a story,” Vintner spoke sincerely, leaning forwards from his recliner.

She is our friend... but so much more as well, Luna smiled at the stallion’s expression. “We are eager to discuss her with thee, but we would like to talk in thy wife’s company is well. The matter is important, and must be heard by both thy ears.”

“Oh. Okay. I can wait,” he accepted, sitting back in his chair, seemingly content to just wait. Although, the monarch had a question she needed answered.

“We appreciate thy patience. But whilst we wait, we have spawned a curiosity for thee and thy wife,” Luna revealed. “Thy accent twangs of some place that is not Trottingham.”

“I’m from Baltimare, Your Majesty. I’m surprised you’re familiar enough with it to know its accent at all… not that I’m implying you wouldn’t,” Vintner replied, wearing a disarming grin. “I was born there. Spent the first twenty years of my life on a vineyard; picking grapes,” he recounted. “For a while I had the aspiration to be a successful wine merchant. I’m sure you saw my cutie mark. I’ve got a talent for winemaking. So I decided that I should sell my wine to every corner of Equestria. ‘Vintner’s Vintage,’ is what the label read on the bottle, and I had a hundred of them. Actually, I think I still have a bottle laying about somewhere…”

Luna listened attentively. “That was thy initial ambition? Tis a commendable one, to be a peddler of luxury.”

“I enjoyed it. For a time. Travelling, hiking, and meeting ponies of all sorts. I slept in a new place almost every day, not always comfortably, but always contented. Usually because I had a full belly or many tankers of cider,” he chuckled, happily reminiscing. “At a point it became less about selling wine, and simply just enjoying life.”

“Some say pursuing happiness is the wisest route one can take with life,” Luna remarked. “If it led to thee meeting thy wife, travelling down it was apt.”

He gave a wistful chuckle. “I suppose. I don’t regret it one bit. I apologise if I gave that impression. It’s just been a while since I’ve been this... nostalgic, Your Highness,” he replied, his cheek pulled back into a half-smile. “I met her at the train station. I was intending to ride to Canterlot then. Maybe try to get some rich noble to get a taste for what I had to offer. Who knows. I might have been given an investment, buy my own vineyard,” he listed the possibilities with no trace of longing, marking the end of his sentence with a shrug. “But I learned she was visiting relatives in Los Pegasus.”

“Quite a long way from Canterlot,” Luna commented.

“True. And quite a bit overwhelming for me. If I went with her, it’d be the furthest I’ve ever been from home. I’d be in truly foreign territory.”

“Did thou go with her?” Luna asked, although, from the small smile he wore she already knew his answer.

“Of course. I didn’t even think of missing the opportunity to keep talking to her. I was smitten. Silken Soft, the daughter of cloud makers in Trottingham, intending to carry on the family business, and the most beautiful mare in all of Equestria – although that wasn’t self-proclaimed, I admit,” his tone became lively, almost bombastic as he spoke of her. “After hearing where she was going I told her I was heading out that way too. A small lie, but it wasn’t for too long. I used the last of my money to buy a ticket right after.”

“Thou was set on her?”

“Aye. Who knew if I would’ve gotten the chance to see her again. Sometimes you just have to do something crazy to get that one shot to be with somepony truly special,” Vintner answered, before gesturing around him, pride etched into his features. “And it paid off, didn’t it? I gave up selling wine, and her cloud knitting. We started a new life together. And are happier all for it.”

“Hmm, we see. Thy love blossomed, and instead of travelling down separate roads, both of thee decided to share a single one. Together,” Luna remarked with audible praise.

“Much more eloquent than how he put it,” a mare’s voice sounded from the stairway, earning both the eyes of Luna and Vintner. “And here I’ve been content with just the occasional ‘I love you,’” the mare jested, just as she reached the top of the stairs.

Vintner rolled his eyes, wearing a smile in good humour. “Citrus working the bar?” he queried, following his wife as she walked around him.

“He is,” Silken Soft confirmed, the ivory coated mare taking the recliner next to his. “He did ask about Feather again though,” she divulged, wearing a knowing smile. “He’s hopeless.”

Luna forced a smile, trying to hide an expression of worry… or contempt. “Who is this… Citrus?” she asked.

“Oh, nopony you need to worry about, Your Highness,” Vintner answered. “He’s just a young stallion. Does the occasional work for us downstairs. Serving drinks, tending the bar and the like.”

“He’s also smitten with our daughter,” Silken interjected with a chortle. “Ever since he had learnt his ABCs.”

“Now, now, the Princess doesn’t need to hear about this,” Vintner interjected.

“Oh, why not? It’s adorable isn’t it?” she chirped, giving him a smile. “Almost reminds me of you when we first met. I can’t imagine how much he’s suffering waiting for her to come back,” she joked, giving a coy giggle towards her husband.

“It’ll pass,” he opined, releasing a sigh. “Sorry, Your Majesty. My wife fancies herself something of a matchmaker.”

“I do not!” she objected with a scoff, a pout following. “I can just tell true love when I see it.”

“Good grief, Silky!” Vintner marvelled, shaking his head. “You can’t just be saying that sort of thing so casually. So he asks about her every so often? So does Old Wick, and Burdock, and I doubt both of them are so deeply in love with her as you think Citrus is.”

“Please, Old Wick is, well… old! And Burdock is a mare. I doubt that Feather would be interested in either of them,” she said matter-of-factly, causing Luna to squirm uncomfortably in her seat; her lips splitting into a small and forced grin. “Love is two way, honey. Citrus is a good colt, and young. And if you ask me, I think they’d make a wonderful cou-”

“If we may, we think it apt to discuss the issue concerning thy daughter,” Luna beseeched, barely restraining the fissure-like crack in her voice.

“Oh, I am sorry, Your Highness. I often forget myself. I tend to ramble,” she released a giggle, holding a curled hoof to her mouth.

“Especially when she’s nervous,” Vintner corroborated, chuckling. “She sees you here, knows that you’re here, but still can’t believe it. Much like myself if I’m to be honest.”

Luna attempted to give a disarming smile, but found that her face was straining to do so. “This is very much reality. If this were a dream, we would know of that, we assure thee,” Luna quipped, grinning. “If we render thee uncomfortable, we hath failed as a guest.”

“Don’t you pay us no mind, Your Highness,” Silken waved her hoof, as if trying to dispel the monarch’s worry. “We’re just old and patriotic. We’re just as excited as we are nervous.”

Luna gave a nod. “Very well. But if thou wish anything of us, this is thy castle, thy kingdom, and we art subject to it.”

Vintner shared a look with his wife, one Luna discerned as being openly happy, but the slight waver on the smile hid confusion – or more worryingly – concern. Vintner looked back to Luna with continued smile he shared with Silken. “We are humbled that you would regard our home so… highly. Thank you, Princess.”

“About our daughter?” Silken asked, suddenly; a crease between her brows. Vintner flashed her a stern look but she seemed to ignore it.

Vintner sighed, before setting his sights on Luna instead. “Sorry. We don’t want to mistake your kindness for some sort of blanket for bad news, but...”
Luna nodded, lips pursed. “We understand. Our reputation, even at the outermost edges of the state is less than pleasant. But the least we can do is put thee at ease. Thy daughter is not in any sort of danger, or harmed, or even ill – at least that was our knowledge upon leaving the capital,” she spoke with the intent to ease, watching their faces soften into relief.

Vintner released an exhale. “She hardly sends letters any more.”

“We tried to remain optimistic, but the worst case scenarios can sometimes lodge themselves in there, you know?” Silken explained.

“That’s what it’s like to be a parent,” Vintner added, before he released a dry laugh, scratching his chin.

With the air in a somewhat melancholic state, Luna chewed the inside of her cheek, looking between the two faces. “W-well, we do have something else to tell thee. R-regarding, Feather. O-or rather, us in relation to her. The point is… Um...” Luna paused, seeing the brows on them both furrowed, before she gulped; lips suddenly dry. “We – o-or rather, I, as the state has no forbearing upon this,” she muttered, forcing a larger grin. “Would ask thee for t-thy b-blessing.”

There was a queer expression on Silken, a look of scepticism that primarily underlined disbelief. “What do you mean?” Silken asked, seeking clarification for monarch’s parlance. Luna could tell she was trying to avoid jumping to conclusions.

“What kind of blessing?” Vintner inquired, head tilting a tad.

Luna parted her mouth, but no words were expelled. It was, looking at their gormless faces, that she arrived at the realisation she didn’t know what to say. “T-thy daughter is… special. To us.”

Vintner furrowed his brows. Silken’s went up. Both at different levels of understanding. “’ Special?’” Vintner echoed. “What do you mean by that? A friend?”

“A dear one, yes. But she is so much more...” Luna ended, openly.

“...Best friend?” Vintner said after a few seconds.

Luna took a breath. She would have to get the point sooner or later. “I love her. A-and I wish for thy approval in asking for her hoof in marriage. We do not cajole thee using our authority, or demand it under threat. I, asking this of thee, am no longer sovereign. An unlit wick, a… dim lifeless star, awaiting for the spark that thou can so readily deliver unto it an-”

Thump!

“By Faust’s tits!” Vintner exclaimed, jumping from his seat just as his wife fell from hers. Immediately, his horn became a lit with a bright blue aura. “Help me,” he commanded, glancing to Luna as he struggled to lift Silken’s unconscious frame from the floor.

Luna had not realised the revelation had made the mare light-headed, her gentle swaying unseen by the continued monologuing of the monarch. “Yes, at once!” Luna acquiesced, tone diligent, yet feeling panicked and guilt-ridden inside. She had no issue lifting the pegasus off the carpet, acting as a support for the stallion’s magic, who brought his wife onto his back. “I can-”

“I’m taking her to a bed!” he interrupted, not giving Luna the slightest look as he hurried down an adjoining hall.

Luna stayed her hooves for a moment, grimacing as the stallion disappeared into a room that connected to the hallway. The monarch blinked, carrying herself forward with a slight reluctance. Tartarus’ deepest hole doth not render fear in us so much as fury from the right pony. The thought punctuated aloud as she followed the unicorn’s path, peeking into the room before she entered. He saw the stallion, sitting beside the bed, hoof extended and pressed gently into Silken’s shoulder. Luna walked in, her steps not making much noise as they seldom did. She found her sights wandering, curious.

The room was small, cozy. Guest bedroom? the monarch mused upon entry, immediately noticing faint black lines next to a long mirror to her left. Her curiosity demanded satiation, and she took a step closer to read it. She had no difficulty seeing in the low light. Feather, age two, one and a half... Feather, age eight, two and three quarters… Feather, age twelve, three and a quarter... This was Feather’s room. Luna stepped away, scanning the small abode with a delighted smile. It was sparse, likely emptied sometime after their daughter moved out. But there were a few traces of Feather’s presence left within, aside from the markings on the wall. The carpet had a few visible splotches on it. Paint, most likely, as the remnant of a crude picture remained in the window. Three ponies, or so it looked -two white and one grey. Upon seeing this, Luna noticed a few more markings of paint. Some on the walls, waiting to be painted over, and even the ceiling – speckles, looking like a multicoloured sneeze.

Luna’s lip tugged at the corner as she strode to the sitting stallion, swallowing silently. We will have to learn of Feather’s youth… if mother awakes and father doth not detest me. “Is she well?” she asked, concerned.

“Yeah,” Vintner gave a suppressed chuckle, sighing. “It’s not the first time she’s fainted. Happens when she gets too excited… stressed… too much of anything really. She’ll be fine, Your Highness.”

“That’s good...” Luna said softly, before timidly sitting beside him. A moment of silence followed, before the monarch frowned; looking at the sleeping pegasi’s face. “...I am sorry.”

“Whatever for?” he scoffed, looking at the monarch with an expression of incredulity.

“For this...” she began, gesturing to the sleeping mare; looking to Vintner with a tired smile.

“You had no way of knowing,” he replied, scoffing.

“I should have been more careful,” she countered.

“For something you knew nothing about,” he riposted, scolding. “If she were awake right now, she would slap you across the cheek. Title or no.”

Luna smirked. “And I would be deserving. On both,” she quipped, before releasing a quiet giggle. “Perhaps it would break us out of this madness.”

“Madness? Why would you think you’re mad?” he inquired.

“Yes. Tis the only ailment that can explain my choices as of late,” Luna answered. “I have sent ponies to the stratosphere, done less than… decent activities in public, and travelled halfway across the nation in secrecy just to ask thee something,” she explained, mirthless. “I acted with Feather in my mind each time. I simply can’t escape her – not that I wish to.”

“That isn’t madness, Princess. It’s love,” he corrected, “or so I would say. You didn’t… cajole her into anything did you? Using your… royal authority?” he questioned, delicately, yet gave the monarch a stern eye.

“No. In fact, for months I was at her whims. I depended upon her smile, her well-being. When I was first struck with love, I felt unwell when days went by and I had not lain my eyes upon her,” she revealed, smiling wistfully. “We had not even shared a conversation yet. Yet, my love for her absolute, and sure.”

Vintner released a smirk, scratching his ear awkwardly. “Well, I-I can’t say my experience was the same. A lot less… storybook,” he replied, brow raising. “Did she feel the same way, Your Highness?”

Luna released a puzzling chuckle. “No. Not in the slightest,” she answered.

“Oh?”

“Feather put it eloquently. She believed that love needed to ‘blossom,’ as all flowers do. With time, and with care. That was her reply to my admittance of love,” she elaborated.

Vintner smirked. “Brave of her to turn down the love of a Princess,” he remarked, looking to his wife. “Gets it from her mother, that.”

Luna chuckled, but shook her head. “I gave her no reason to fear me… well, she was afraid, at first. But after a full night of… conversation,” she emphasised, lying, “she opened up to me.”

The stallion curled his lower lip, curious. “How long ‘as this love affair been going on then?” he asked, jokingly. “A year, maybe two? She never told us in letters. I suppose you held her to secrecy on that one.”

“Six months,” she answered. Suddenly, he began to cough into his hoof, wide eyed, reeling in shock. Luna reached a hoof out. “Art thou ill?”

“No, no,” he said between coughs, waving his hoof dismissively. A moment later he returned to a well enough state, staring at the monarch in disbelief. “Six months? And you want her to marry you?”

“W-well, I am aware that in this day and age that such a proposal would be considered hasteful, b-but...” she started with a stammer, forcing a lopsided grin despite his glare.

“Is she head-over-heels in love with you? Did she give you impression she wanted marriage, and wanted it now?” he began to ask, his restrained demeanour towards the monarch was seemingly replaced with a natural paternity, worry evident in his voice.

“W-well, actually, she already refused my first proposal, b-but-”

“You already asked her!” he exclaimed, glancing to his wife as she stirred in her sleep. “Why are you asking me for my blessing? She already rejected you, Your Highness,” he informed her of the obvious, stern but hushed in his voice. “I mean no offence, but if you were somepony other than my liege, I would have kicked you at my front door head first… Your Highness,” he said with considerable strain, a slight scowl hiding behind his beard.

“I...” Luna began, dejected. Her eyes fell to the floor, an unpleasant concoction of guilt, shame and self-loathing taking rise in her gut. “I wanted to do it right this time,” she informed him, her voice lacking in any sort of sovereign lustre. “When I asked her, I allowed sadness to rule me, and thus I retreated. I left her. Worried. Alone with the burden of my sorrow upon her haunches. But I can fix this. I can. I know she feels something for me. Even if it is doth not burn as brightly as my own. If I were to ask again, and still heard her rejection, I can still remain with her. That is what I desire most, sir. I profess an intimate knowledge and experience of love, yet I neglected the single most important thing,” she monologued, meekly reconnecting her sights with the soft-eyed stallion, giving him a small smile. “I want to change. Become somepony better for her. In such a short amount of time she has become the centre of my life, and I do not loathe that one bit. I love her. All of her. And I wish to devote myself to her, as I believe she deserves. She brought warmth to my life, after a millennia of darkness and cold. I cannot imagine a life without her in it. Thus, thy blessing is not just permission. It is hope.”

Vintner’s expression considerably softened. He said nothing at first, looking to his wife’s sleeping face with a pensive stare. His hoof was placed on her side, tenderly stroking back and forth in the same spot. A few more moments passed of continued silence, save for breathing, until Vintner sighed turning his neck to look at the monarch. “Your Highness. I don’t doubt you love her. But I want you to promise me you’ll never make her unhappy, or to put her aside, or hurt her in any way,” he said solemnly, with his brows furrowed.

“I promise,” she swore, placing a heart to her hoof. “If I were to break such a vow, I would willingly service myself to thy full fury. To break my horn from my head, to clip my own wings, and no, never bathe again. I would wander the world, and allow all to see my shame. To bleat like a she-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted her, releasing an exhale. “Then you have my blessing, Princess. Don’t waste- hmph!” the stallion’s request was interrupted by a vice-like tightness around his chest, suddenly getting a nose full of lilac-scented fur.

“We thank thee!” she squealed with delight, holding the unicorn in a tight embrace. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” every proclamation of her elation was punctuated by rocking the stallion sideways.

“D-don’t mention it, Your Highness,” Vintner said with a wheeze, straining for breath; the monarch’s embrace deceivingly tight.

“Please,” she began, adopting a gentle tone before releasing the stallion from her grasp, “call me, Luna.”

“Luna...” he grumbled, before releasing a smirk. “I’ll have a princess for a daughter-in-law if Feather accepts you this time around.”

“Then I hope that thou will get used to me calling thee, Father,” Luna replied to his musing with a grin.

He chuckled. “Maybe… maybe...”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Luna remarked, her smile enlarging. “What dost thou know of the Grand Galloping Gala?”

Author's Note

Sorry, it's been awhile. I had a bunch of IRL stuff that was causing some havoc. I spent my first week at university thoroughly miserable. The lecturers outright told their students that select students were bad people for holding personal political opinions, and it became clear that there wasn't so much a focus on history as it was a focus on espousing political opinions and focusing on an area that allowed them to do such. On the brighter side, I now have a laptop, which should theoretically allow me to work more on my writing. So, that's a positive.

I wasn't too much a fan of this chapter. I don't consider myself being 'drained' on writing this, it's just that I'm perceiving a visible decline in the quality of what I'm writing. Which is just unfortunate. I considered multiple times to erase what I wrote of chapter 4 and simply start it over, but alas, I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. Hopefully, chapter 5 is more fruitful.

Things and Trivia:
1. Originally, the band in this chapter were going to be characters was a fic I conceptualised as 'The Pirate King' but I thought the age of the characters would've been a discrepancy, considering Feather listened to them as a foal. The flute player, however, is intact for a possible use in a future story.
2. The 'band,' at least as I pictured them in my head, are based upon the High Kings or Irish Rovers. They're inclusion in Feather's dialogue in an earlier chapter was based primarily on the fact I was listening to the High Kings a lot whilst writing the chapters.
3. The interaction between Celestia and Feather, was originally a lot more biting. However, due to changes in Celestia's personality as well as overall story changes, meant that having an overly antagonistic Celestia would've been too out of place and contrasting with later chapters.
4. Luna was originally going to get discovered right away, soon after entering the pub.
5. Keen and Clean Cut were not characters originally even in chapter 4 whatsoever. They were created after the, I'd say, third rewrite. From reading you can see what their purpose sort've was, as well as reveal more of Luna's feelings to the reader.
6. The band was originally supposed to play a larger part in the chapter. This tied in with the original idea of Luna getting discovered right away, which would've had them be unusually casual to the monarch. However, I couldn't fit that in right. I might recycle the band to another fic I have a vague idea of doing.
7. Originally, Keen and Clean Cut were going to get into a bar fight. After creating them I had a few ideas of what I could with them in the chapter besides their current stuff. In the end, I decided not to.
8. Originally, in order to actually keep to this fic's identity as a clopfic, there was gonna be a POV sex scene with Keen and the freckled unicorn mare he becomes smitten with in the pub. I may do an 'aside' for this if ya'll want it.
9. Originally, instead of magic, Luna was just gonna tell the duo to leave their gear behind at the carriage. However, this idea came in late and trying to put it in would've made the beginning scene with her seem too clunky. Instead, magic!
10. Still tied to Luna, and my idea of her getting discovered, she was initially going to take part in dancing and then her hood would fall back; revealing the monarch under it. By the final draft I decided not to have her get 'discovered/found out' and instead opted for what you read.
11. I was originally going to write a brother for Feather called 'Soda' but due to not being mentioned in the dating chapter - as well as not having a suitable reason for why Feather wouldn't mention him - I didn't.
12. Originally I wanted the father to be the one with the heavy accent.