“This crown, colts and fillies, is thousands of years old!” The crown, wrought silver with inlaid amethysts and a stylized Tree of Harmony on the front, glimmered inside the display case.
“Oooooooh,” the gaggle of colts and fillies said in chorus, except for one who was busy picking his nose and another with his snout buried in a book.
Their teacher gestured to the plaque beneath the ornate headpiece. “This crown was forged by ancient buffalo metalsmiths to be worn by their ruler, who passed it down from chief to chief for a dozen generations. Now, who can tell me what ‘forged’ means?”
“It means they hit it with a hammer while it was hot!” A filly mimed the motion with a surge of violence. “Like, bam bam bam! BAM!”
“No, that’s -- ” The teacher paused, then scratched his horn. “Well, yes, actually. Erm, good answer. So, the tribe gifted this crown to Princess Celestia about five hundred years ago, when she helped the buffalo survive a time of extreme famine. Now, who can tell me – oh! Your Majesty!”
The teacher threw himself into a bow, his ears folded back. “I – I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty, I was assured that this wing of the palace would be empty today. I will get these foals out of your mane right away.”
Said foals had burst into a series of gasps, yelps, and squeals as they, too, threw themselves at the floor. The nose-picker, Luna noticed, did not allow bowing to stop him from his noble task, and the book reader appeared to have taken no note of Luna at all.
“Ah,” Luna said, a vague memory surfacing of the tourism board arranging a day for field trips. Her thoughts had consumed her as she had wandered from room to room seeking solitude, not paying care to her surroundings. “Neigh, I have no wish to interfere. Rise, my little ponies, and be at ease.”
The foals sprang to life, buzzing as though Luna had poked a beehive. A dozen tiny hoofs thrust into the air.
“Now, now, children, Princess Luna is a very important pony!” The teacher shot them a flat warming look recognizable by students everywhere. “I’m sure she has much better things to do than answer a million questions.”
Luna’s cheeks burned as she thought of her ambiguous plan to stalk the dark corners of the castle, stewing in her own misery. “I might have enough time for a question or two.”
The foals erupted.
“Do you have a dungeon? Is it cool?”
“How do you make it night time?”
“Why did I dream I was an apricot?!”
“Carrot has a lot of dreams where she’s fruit,” a colt added helpfully.
“Why do you look so haggard? Is Equestria under attack? Is this crown the key to stopping an evil super villain?”
“Haggard means when you look all tired and droopy like a sad plant,” the same colt explained.
Luna opened her mouth, then closed it. She chose to answer the only question she understood. “I create the night by altering the gravity of the moon, causing it to rise in the sky. Then I ask the stars to shine for us, and thus coax them into the correct positions, such that travelers may never lose their way.”
“Actually,” a unicorn colt announced, “Chisel Tip in the third grade says that nighttime is a big blanket with holes in it.”
Luna stared him down. “I assure you that Chisel Tip is mistaken.”
The colt pushed his glasses up his snout and frowned, unconvinced. The other foals tittered.
“If nighttime were a blankie then it wouldn’t be so cold, stupid,” a filly said.
A unicorn shot her foreleg up. “Do you like Princess Twilight?”
“We are betrothed,” Luna said. She and Twilight had been engaged since before any of these foals had been born, in truth.
They blinked at her.
“That means yes,” Luna said.
“Oooooooooh,” the group said.
The apricot dreamer – Carrot, was it? – raised a hoof. “When are you getting married?”
Luna froze. A vice tightened around her throat. She cleared it with a cough while the fillies giggled in anticipation, unaware that they had stumbled into raw territory. She suspected the teacher to be more circumspect, however, as he immediately decided to round them up.
“Alright children,” the teacher said, “that was two questions! Now say thank you to Princess Luna!”
“Thank you,” they chanted.
He raised a bright red pennant. “Do we have everyone? Yes, look this way, please, eyes on the flag! Brush, are you paying attention? Carrot, that means you, too. Follow me, everypony! Next stop, the art room!”
The teacher ushered them away and soon the herd was stomping off, a thunderstorm of complaints. Their high-pitched voices became less and less audible as they disappeared down the hall. Soon, Luna was left with blessed silence.
She collapsed onto a nearby bench, resting her chin over crossed forelegs. She preferred children to adults for their straightforwardness, t’was true, yet it could be a double-edged sword. They had a sixth sense for truths that did not want to be heard, and questions that did not want to be answered.
She huffed a breath to blow the hair out of her eyes. Mayhap Luna attributed to them too much. They were but foals, curious and unafraid to ask questions.
A page turned.
Luna’s head shot up, ears pricked.
A brown earth pony was curled beneath the crown’s pedestal, lips moving silently as he read from the weighty tome in his lap. He adjusted his glasses, which were a tad too large, cracked and taped together in the middle. He was scrawny for an earth pony, which was further exacerbated by the massive book in his lap. Luna glanced at his flank – bare.
Luna climbed to her hooves and stretched her wings. “Ahem.”
He frowned, chewing his lip. He turned another page.
Luna peered over his shoulder. It appeared to be a book of ancient artifacts. The current page diagramed the crown alongside a detailed history of Celestia’s dealings with the buffalo.
“Hail, young one,” she said over his head.
He looked up. His jaw dropped. His gaze darted from Princess Luna’s starry hair to her cutie mark, then to her horn and wings, eyes widening. His head twisted right, then left, taking in the empty room.
“Um,” he said. “Uh. Uhhh.”
Celestia, had she been here, would have taken him under her wing and escorted him back to the group with a wink and a gentle chastisement. Celestia wasn’t here, however, and Luna did not give a fig.
“Like the crown?” she said.
He let his book fall shut. “Um.”
Luna lifted the glass case and levitated the gleaming crown onto his brow. He stilled, barely breathing.
“What is your name?”
“It’s Smasher, Princess.” He gulped. The crown tilted to one side; Luna straightened it for him. “I – I shouldn’t be wearing this, P—Princess.”
“You have my permission.”
“No! I mean, I – I break a lot of things. On accident, I mean. And Mr. Story said ‘no touching in the palace,’ ma’am, and he said ‘especially you, Smasher,’ ma’am. And I just really think I’m going to break it and I have to be really still and --”
She summoned a tall mirror, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Look.”
He looked. His breath caught.
His raised his hoof to the mirror, trembling, then flinched. “Wow,” he said, so low that Luna had to strain to hear it.
She grinned, nudging him. “You are Chief Smasher, now. Chiefs only worry about breaking their enemies. Did your book mention the clumsiness of any buffalo chiefs?”
Smasher shook his head, gaze riveted on his reflection.
“Because it did not matter. For a Chief, the only matter of portent is the care of his tribe.”
His muzzle scrunched up as he contemplated her words. He chewed on his lip like he had when he was reading, then turned away from the mirror. “I should go find Mr. Story. Thank you for, um, letting me try this on, Princess. I think I’ll take it off now.”
“You doubt me,” Luna said.
“Um.” Smasher paused, hooves reaching to remove the crown. “No?”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “No?"
His hind legs shifted. “I dunno. I just…” He fiddled with his glasses. “What if no chiefs were clumsy because clumsy buffalos never became chiefs? Isn’t that, um, maybe a possibility, Princess? Ma’am?” He deflated as he spoke, as though making himself a smaller target.
She nodded, tapping her chin. “That is possible. The false correlation fallacy. Maybe, maybe.” He reminded her of Twilight so much it hurt. “Yet I do believe you are missing an important factor. Can you think of what it might be?”
Smasher shook his head.
She levitated his book, examining the title. She skimmed through the pages, then scrutinized the cover. “This, young Smasher, is a very valuable book. Indeed, it is a library book. I imagine you would owe quite a sum were it to be damaged. And yet… I see no stains. No juice nor watermarks, nor candlewax. The pages are not creased, nor the spine cracked from improper use or dropping. How can this be so, if you are so prone to ruination?”
Smasher chewed his lip. “I’m not, I guess? I mean when it comes to books. I read books all the time. I don’t really think about it.”
Luna gave him a sly smile. “No?”
He tilted his head. “Are you saying the buffalo chiefs weren’t clumsy because they didn’t think about it too hard?”
“Indeed, Smasher. I think confidence helped very much. When I placed the crown upon your brow, you trembled like a leaf – the crown nearly slipped. T’was the only time I feared for it. Now, look upon the mirror once more. See how you stand tall.”
“I was so afraid of breaking it that I nearly broke it?”
“Very good.” Luna gave him a nudge. “Tis a large part of it. And once you’ve grown a mote taller, that will take care of the rest.”
“Okay.” He nodded to his reflection. “Yeah. That makes sense. I’ll try to think about that the next time. Thanks for the advice, Princess. Ma’am.”
“T’was no problem at all, young one.” Luna laughed. “A good distraction from my miserable day.”
“Oh no! What happened, Princess?”
Too late, Luna realized her mistake.
“An argument with a friend, nothing more.” It had been more. It had been horribly, heart-wrenchingly more. “I will be fine, in time, I think. I thank you for your concern.”
Smasher paced while still wearing the crown, a scene reminiscent of Celestia’s political strategy sessions. “Oh! Well, you should tell me what happened! I’m really good at solving arguments, you know. You helped me, so I can help you!”
“I appreciate your expertise, Smasher, yet I believe I will be able to solve this in my own time,” Luna said, already knowing that it was in vain.
He puffed his chest. “Princess Twilight says that friendship is the quickest way to solving any problem.”
Ah, she thought, a Twilight fan. She should have guessed. How excellent.
“Princess Twilight…” She sighed. “She is quite wroth with me at the moment.”
Smasher paused, mouth hanging open. Luna’s wings fluttered against her will. “You had a fight with Princess Twilight?”
“I did.”
“Aren’t you like, her special somepony?”
“Yes.”
“And isn’t she like, the Princess of Friendship?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. Shame burgeoned in her chest, swirling hot and angry. Yes, Luna had achieved the impressive feat of driving the world’s premiere authority on friendship to the brink.
He whistled. “Wow. Hm. That’s a tough one. Princess. Ma’am.”
Luna’s shame evaporated. The fight spirited out of her as quickly as it had arrived. “Indeed, it is.”
He settled onto the floor, tapping his hoof as he thought. “What did you fight about?”
What did we not fight about? Luna’s hesitance to set a wedding date had tipped Twilight’s insecurities a mote far. Then Luna’s anger at being pushed, followed by Twilight’s insistence that waiting was no bother, despite evidence to the contrary. How they had yelled. How they had hurt each other.
The terror that followed Luna like a shadow, that she was the weak link, and Twilight was but moments away from realizing it.
How Twilight had stormed off, only to return again. How Twilight had nuzzled her and Luna had turned away.
“Over many foolish things,” Luna said.
“I fight with my friend Carrot all the time,” he said. “But then we talk about it the next day and feel better about it. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow?”
Luna stared at her hooves. “Perhaps.” Then, sensing he would not leave it alone until he felt he had helped, she said, “You may be right, and my feelings might change with the morn. I will heed your advice, and think on it. Thank you, Smasher. Now that we have successfully helped each other, if you wish, you may continue to read here until they return for you. I care not.”
“Um, yeah, okay! That would be awesome! Thank you, Princess!”
Smasher took to wandering from artifact to artifact, consulting his book and asking Luna the occasional shy question. Luna was happy to answer, even as the painful conversation lingered in the back of her mind, festering like an infected wound. Telling Smasher about an ancient tea set, and the history of a magical spear, and the story behind the dent in her old war helm, helped her to forget. Smasher, for his part, seemed to have forgotten he was wearing the crown as he bounced from case to case.
An hour passed in which she avoided pondering the flaming wreckage of her relationship.
“SMASHER!”
Luna’s first thought upon hearing the teacher’s voice was relief. She had been wondering how a responsible educator could lose a student for this long. Then she cringed as she considered that perhaps he had been searching longer than she realized.
Her second thought was horror as Smasher tripped and the ancient crown bequeathed by the buffalo flew through the air, light sparkling off the gems as it twirled. The stylized Tree of Harmony sailed serenely above Luna’s head.
Oh no.
She reached out her magic and – smash!
Too late.
It cracked down the middle, splitting the tree symbol in twain.
“No, no, no!” Smasher lunged at the remains. He pressed the pieces together – an amethyst popped out. He wailed. He fumbled at the round gem, picking it up and dropping it, then dropping it again.
She knelt beside him, covering him with her wing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He shook beneath her wing, tears streaming.
“It’s alright,” she said, overwhelmed with helplessness as she searched for the right words. Her problems shrank in the face of such misery.
“No, it’s not.” He swallowed. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve – I was so stupid – never should have touched it – I’m always like this, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”
She wiped away his tears, only for them to be replaced with more. “There is one more lesson to learn from the buffalo. It will help, I promise.”
He sniffled. “What?”
“Ponies… we put nice things behind glass, to protect them,” Luna said, struggling to explain in terms a colt would understand. “The buffalo, never. Chiefs wore this crown into battle for centuries. It broke many times, I assure you.”
“Really?”
“Really. So what do you think they did?”
He rubbed at his muzzle. “I dunno. Fixed it?”
“Precisely. Each time, they re-made the crown and added something more special to it. A symbol, or a jewel or design. Each time, they re-forged it stronger. More beautiful. Like a broken bone, when it is healed, it becomes stronger. That is what I will do with it.”
His sobs quieted. “So it’s not, like, a big deal?”
Luna blinked, searching her knowledge of modern expressions. “It is not a ‘big’ deal at all. The buffalo learned long before ponies the importance of mistakes. It is an interesting ‘deal’ from which we can learn and grow, and you… You are a part of this crown’s history now.”
“You’ll make it better?”
Luna squeezed him with her wing. “And stronger.” As you will become.
“SMASHER!" The teacher’s voice was closer now, coming from the hall. “Where are you, kiddo?”
Luna took the pieces from him. “It seems you are needed.”
“Yeah, I should um, go.” He rubbed the tear tracks from his cheeks, sniffing. He frowned at the broken pieces. “Could I… see what it looks like, when you’re done?”
Luna smiled. “Of course.”
Smasher seized her foreleg in a hug. It made Luna feel important and warm and wanted, and she hoped it made Smasher feel the same. Then he slipped off, trotting to the hallway and bidding her farewell.
Luna turned the pieces over, examining the craftsmanship. Another jewel popped out. She sighed and picked it up.
She hadn’t explicitly connected the lesson of re-forging the crown and learning from one’s mistakes. She trusted with time, though, he would understand.
She connected the halves and re-inserted the jewels. She clicked her tongue. A strip of iron along the base would strengthen the frame. She could rework the jewel sockets, too.
She considered the crown for a long, long time.
She was a fool.
She climbed the steps of Twilight’s tower, absorbed in her revelation. Charlatan, she accused herself. Naïve she had been, dispensing advice without taking it. She shook her head as she approached the summit.
The door loomed, covered with an enormous six-pointed star. She swallowed, knocked, and – upon hearing a call -- entered.
The curtains had been pulled back. She squinted as sunlight streamed into her eyes, blinking away spots until she could make out the lavender figure trotting toward her.
“Twilight.” Luna nuzzled her.
“I missed you,” Twilight said, and nuzzled back.
This time, Luna did not turn away. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the fur against her cheek, the warmth between them.
She and Twilight spoke well into the night.
