I alighted on the ground, snow crunching under my hooves. I started walking forward slowly, furling my wings tightly to me. The wind was bitter and I took a moment to weave an elemental spell around me to endure the chill.
Ahead of me was a stone plinth in the shape of a Pegasus, a warm smile on her face. I looked up into the sightless eyes of the likeness and felt a fresh wave of sadness flow through my heart.
“Hello, old friend,” I whispered, placing a hoof on the stone of the monument. The silver shoe contrasted starkly to the marble it had been carved from. “It’s another year of gentle snow, and I can’t help but think of you. You would have enjoyed this year’s endeavors.”
I took a moment and used a wing to brush dead leaves and drifted snow from the headstone, revealing her name and the likeness of her cutie mark.
“I very likely have no business interrupting your rest,” I continued. “After all, we had barely become acquainted and I let the darkness in my heart overtake me. Simple jealousy and juvenile pettiness robbed me of some of the very things that could have meant so much to me.”
I paused, fighting back some tears.
“This year is the first year we welcomed the snows without one of your gifts, and it almost feels wrong to do so. We used the last of the ones you made last year. I didn’t want to, you know. I actually asked Celie if we could keep it to remember you by. But you wouldn’t have wanted that. Your gifts were so that you could share with everypony. I spent a thousand years in exile and not once in the time since returning did I think to allow myself a selfish action until I realized we were on the final piece of wishing snow you had carved.”
I settled down in front of the grave, pulling my legs under me as I say. My midnight coat was a stark contrast to the pure white snow, but I was alone in this section of the kingdom, and not even my personal guard would presume to bother me in this time without pressing reason.
“I’m sorry I left you so abruptly, Snowdrop,” I whispered, lowering my head to rest my cheek against the snowdrop flower carved into the stone. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you grow into the fine mare that my sister tells me about. I have a feeling that if we had met sooner, maybe my becoming Nightmare Moon would not have happened. You did so love the night, and you of all the ponies I have met seemed to understand it best. Even though you had not the eyes to see it, you could hear it beyond what other’s could.”
I sat there at the graveside for several minutes in silence, letting the gentle snow pile around us. I sniffled a few times as tears leaked free.
“You must find me silly,” I laughed weakly. “Coming here to your resting place every year and lamenting time and again about missed opportunities and self-recriminations. Perhaps, instead, you wish to hear happier news.”
I thought for a moment, trying to decide where to start.
“There is a new princess crowned. I do believe that if it ever comes time for me to step down or should aught happen to me, she would do well in my stead as Princess of the Night, though I do believe that her current station shall challenge her well enough. She is perhaps one of my sister’s greatest successes as a student, and I owe her my own well-being.”
I grinned. “She may be still just a nascent princess, but she has faced down challenges that would have cowed most other ponies and bears a deeper connection to the Elements of Harmony than even she realizes. I think the two of you would have liked each other.”
I heard a crunch of snow behind me and I turned to look. There, behind me, stood a Pegasus mare and a small filly. I bit back another small sniffle as I saw how much they looked like her. I could see the familial resemblance. I rose slowly, turning to face them.
“Oh, no, Princess,” the mother said, giving a bow. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your visit. We just came to tend to the memorial.”
The filly stared up at me. “Are you really Nightmare Moon?” she asked, causing her mother to yank her back with a wing.
I smiled gently down at her. “Only on Nightmare Night,” I said with a wink. “After all, one can never have enough candy to enjoy.”
The filly giggled and even her mother gave a brief titter. I looked back at the memorial, the statue standing watch over the final resting place of who may have been my first friend outside of Celestia. These grounds had been gifted to Snowdrop’s descendants in accordance to what my sister believed I would have done myself had I been present for her funeral.
She knew me better than I know myself sometimes.
“I will not keep you from your duties,” I said, spreading my wings in preparation to take to the air.
“Princess?”
I looked at the mare.
“If you would mind waiting, we found something going through Granma Snowdrop’s possessions that had been misplaced. It’s addressed to you, I can grab it if you don’t mind the moment’s wait.”
Something from Snowdrop, addressed to me? I nodded while thought whirled in my head.
The mare returned not long after with a large envelope with the slightly crooked manuscript that I knew well. I took it in my magic and tucked it away for safe keeping.
“Thank you,” I said, taking off for my tower at the Palace. I would not have to raise the moon for several hours yet, so I had time for personal matters.
In the solitude of my chambers, I opened the envelope and a small stone tumbled out along with the letter.
Luna,
I hope that this reaches you if I am not present for your return. I have missed our conversations, and I know that you felt that no one appreciated your night. But you are wrong, so many appreciate the art that you string every night, the ever-shifting tapestry that is your night. I have wished so many times that I could have seen the sights that I heard, to see the beauty of the stars.
But, if you’re reading this, then I suppose I didn’t quite make it to see you again, my friend. You’ll find enclosed a gift for you. It is the last one I ever made, and I want you to keep it to remember me by. Instead of a star, I made it to echo my own twinkling, so that there will always be a piece of me with you to remind you that at least one mare loved your night.
Your Friend,
Snowdrop
I picked up the stone and marveled at the intricate carvings it bore. I tapped it against my barding and listened as it rang, the tone reminiscent of her humming while she would work.
The tears I had been holding back finally broke the dam, flowing down my face.
“I hear you, my friend,” I whispered as the stone sang.
“I hear you.”
