“Er... Princess? Are you all right?”
Had the question come from a common pony’s lips, Luna would’ve ignored it, perhaps dismissing them with a curt 'I am fine, thank you,' before continuing on her way. She was not fine, not in any possible sense of the word, but informing the populace of her woes certainly wouldn’t have helped. As a matter of fact, mentioning her discomfort to an unwitting citizen would probably only have exacerbated the situation.
But Vacil, Captain of Her Majesty’s Royal Night Guard, was not a common pony, or, for that matter, a pony at all. Lithe and sinewy, she stood at respectful attention behind the Princess of the Night, webbed, leathery wings tucked tightly at her sides. Only her eyes, bright yellow and slit-pupiled, betrayed the anxiousness and worry the batpony mare was feeling towards her monarch.
“Princess...?” Vacil inquired tentatively. She was the Luna’s closest companion, barring Celestia herself, and served a multitude of roles as bodyguard, advisor, and occasional intermediary between the monarch and her subjects. If Luna was unhappy, Vacil was usually one of the first to know. But today, the princess had been making a conscious effort to distance herself from the captain, reluctant to offload her burdens on someone she felt was undeserving of them.
“Your Majesty? What’s troubling you? ” It was not in Vacil’s nature to abandon a line of questioning without first receiving a satisfactory answer. Luna admired the trait greatly, and had come to rely on in the turbulent months following the her reinstatement. However, at times like these, it could also be... highly inconvenient.
The princess sighed, not taking her eyes off the star-scattered canvas of the midnight sky above. The night’s cool breeze flitted briefly along the balcony, rustling the ancient ivy that twined the castle’s walls before she stilled it with a blink.
“It is a beautiful night, is it not, Vacil?” she asked, still staring into the endless, inky expanse. Other, shallower ponies may have interpreted the remark as vain, but the captain knew better.
“It is, Your Majesty,” the batpony replied. “The moon and stars have truly outdone themselves. They shine as brightly as I’ve ever seen them.”
“Indeed.” The acknowledgement of the cosmos brought a rare smile to the Luna’s face, and she turned to Vacil and gave an appreciative nod. “It is certainly refreshing to converse with someone who understands the bringing of the night is, one could say, a joint effort.”
Vacil returned the smile. “But of course, Princess. After all, what is an artist without her paints? Or a sculptor without his chisel?”
Luna nodded thoughtfully. “Wise words, Captain. A pity most of the ponies within this city do not share your intellect.” The princess’s disdain for the general populace of Canterlot was no secret, and it, along with her reclusiveness and self-imposed social isolation, had contributed greatly to her reputation as a cold, unforgiving monarch who preferred to be left alone. While said reputation was not entirely inaccurate, it wasn’t that Luna disliked social interaction. She simply preferred it to be only with ponies who she deemed of similar mental ability. Unfortunately, such ponies were few and far between, which had led to her voluntary revival of the Royal Night Guard. Batponies, in addition to being strong, highly intelligent, and unwaveringly loyal, were also one of the few groups who treated Luna as a respected elder, rather than a removed, uncaring overlord. They were the closest she had to kin, Celestia notwithstanding, and she savored their company like others might a fine wine.
“I appreciate the compliment, Your Majesty,” said Vacil, with the sigh of one who had heard it many times before, “but do you really think it’s wise to slander some of the richest and most powerful ponies in Equestria at every opportunity? After all, it was you yourself who mentioned wanting to become closer to your subjects-”
“They are no subjects of mine!” Luna spat. She spun around, staring angrily back over the balcony at the distant lights of downtown Canterlot and repressing the desire to wave a hoof and snuff them out. “They dance and cavort in their elegant world of galas and gossip, blind to the fact that their very existence is as fragile as spun sugar. They sap our resources, they waste Sister’s precious time with their idiotic demands, and yet they still believe themselves worthy of the title of nobility!” She gave a cold, mocking laugh. “Gluttony, deception, arrogance, greed, and lust are their tenets, and the fools themselves are their enforcers. To put oneself above all others, to desire nothing in life but personal gain... indeed,” Luna said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “that must be the very definition of nobility.”
Vacil stood quietly at the princess’s side, her face in impassive, emotionless mask that could only be achieved as a result of years of guard duty. Luna saw the expression and took it as an invitation to continue, wings flared wide in an abject display of animosity.
“No, captain. Those bumbling, overblown halfwits are no more my subjects than you and your kin are Celestia’s. They have forgotten the true facets of nobility, and have lost sight of what makes a pony more than the simple sum of their parts. They are lost,” Luna said, her voice now tinged with longing, “just as I...”
She closed her eyes and let the sentence fade into the cool night air. No, she thought. You shall not speak of it. Wishing for a tree bears no true fruit-
“Princess? Is that what was bothering you? The nobility? I could speak to Celestia on your behalf, if you wish,” asked Vacil cautiously, lest her monarch suddenly launch into another anti-societal tirade.
Luna sighed. But tenacity should not go unrewarded.
“Tell me, Vacil-Nox-Tecama,” she said, using the batpony mare’s full honorific as a token of respect, “do you still feel the Call?”
Vacil blinked. She had obviously been unprepared for the question, and stumbled over her words in the effort to produce a satisfactory answer.
“The Call, Your Majesty? I-I’m afraid I don’t understand...” Her confusion felt sincere, and Luna had to bite back a bitter surge of disappointment. Perhaps she simply knows it by another name, she thought. After all, one can hardly expect the Stygians to be completely familiar with the myriad of subtleties in the pony language.
Luna pointed a hoof at the moon and stars above, eyes alight with an ancient, unsatisfied hunger. “The Call, Starchild.” Another honorific, used by the Princess of the Night on only her most beloved and respected subjects. “The Song of the Stars, the Midnight Aria, The Moon’s Thrall. Aurium Divina.”
Vacil’s eyes widened in comprehension at the Old Equestrian phrase. “Aurium Divina? Oh, you mean-” Luna winced slightly as the batpony emitted a rapid-fire series of high-pitched chirps and squeaks. Vacil saw the expression and blushed in embarrassment. The Stygian language was undetectable to most normal ponies, and almost universally irritating to those who could hear it. Unfortunately, this was a fact that often slipped the captain’s mind.
“Ah... my apologies, Your Majesty,” Vacil said, bowing. “I shouldn’t have-”
Luna shook her head. “There is no need for apologies. One’s language is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, I believe you were about to tell me of your experience with the Call?”
Vacil nodded, eager to please after her linguistic gaffe. “Yes, Princess. While we know it as-” She nearly switched to Stygian again, but managed to catch herself. “A... different name, I believe we’re talking about the same thing. It’s similar to hunger, but... deeper. Stronger. A constant, underlying longing for the moon and stars. Its intensity waxes and wanes with the moon, but it’s never truly gone.” She gave a small smile. “My father used to say that when one of my people moves on from this plane, the hunger is finally satisfied, and they are set free into the sky to dance with the stars forever.” She paused, looking at Luna for signs of approval. “Is that what you meant, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed,” Luna replied. “Although I must admit I was unaware of the Stygian mythology associated with it.” The confession was sincere, but Vacil appeared to find it quite amusing.
“I would hesitate to call it ‘mythology’, Princess,” said the batpony, chuckling. “My father’s belief is one of the most widely held among the clans, but it is still just that: a belief. Not a day goes by when some-” She gave a short, harsh squeak, “thinks they’ve found the true explanation behind the Call, as you put it.” She rolled her eyes. “It can get quite tiring at times. But calling my father’s ideas ‘Stygian mythology’ makes about as much sense as me calling the beliefs of one of your cooks ‘pony mythology.”
Luna nodded, looking slightly abashed. “I see. Forgive me, Vacil. One should not generalize the ideas of many from the beliefs of a few. It is a lesson I myself have had some trouble learning, as you may have guessed,” she said, with a resentful glance in the direction of Canterlot.
“It’s quite all right, Princess,” replied Vacil. “Better to be enlightened and know yourself to be wrong, than ignorant and believe yourself correct.”
Another small smile played upon Luna’s lips. “Tell me, Starchild. Is there a position of philosopher among the Stygians? I believe we may have found its next occupant.”
Vacil shook her head. “Me? A philosopher? Not for all in the world, Princess. Sitting alone, night after night, with nothing to keep me company but my rambling thoughts?” She grimaced. “I would sooner clip my own wings.”
The princess laughed. “Then perhaps there is hope for you yet. I have conversed with many a so-called ‘philosopher’ over my lifetime, and yet I can count the ones who were truly worthy of the title on my hooves.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps there is a correlation between those who would call themselves a great thinker, and those who would prefer to do the thinking.”
“‘Those who are great in both accomplishments and spirit often act as if they are neither, for modesty is perhaps the truest measure of greatness,’” replied Vacil, reciting as if from memory.
“Reflections on Life’s Virtues, by Ivory Hooves. Chapter twelve, page two hundred and seventy-one,” Luna said, raising her eyebrows. “I was unaware you were an appreciator of Ancient Equestrian philosophy, captain.”
“Oh, I would hardly say that,” said Vacil, blushing slightly. “But,” she continued, “in all honestly, I find daydweller ideology quite fascinating. When you are born and raised on the same system of codes and taboos as your great-great-grandfather, other, less governed forms of thinking begin to seem more and more appealing.”
Luna nodded. “I suppose I can understand that. After all, a thirst for new knowledge is never something that should be suppressed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”
“I am sure you will.” Luna looked at Vacil, frowning slightly. “There is one matter I am curious about, however. How did you come to obtain such insight? As far as I am aware, the Stygians prefer to isolate themselves from traditional pony culture as much as possible. I highly doubt they would have any interest in the teachings of our thousand-year-old thinkers.”
Vacil stared at the ground, cheeks blushing and wings fluttering in an obvious display of embarrassment. “I... well, there may have been times where you had forgotten to lock the Royal Library before retiring for the day...” She sighed. “Forgive me, Princess.”
“You are quite forgiven, Captain. As I said, there is no shame in wanting to expand one’s intellectual horizons,” replied Luna. She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I shall see to it that from this night onward, you shall have unrestricted access to the library whenever you wish.”
“Oh... thank you, Your Majesty!” said Vacil, looking as if she was trying extremely hard to repress a squeal of delight. “I promise you, I’ll make good use of it.”
“I have complete faith in you, Vacil. To squander a mind such as yours would be a senseless waste, and you are not a senseless mare. Far from it, in fact.”
“Thank you again, Princess.”
“It is my pleasure.”
There was a long, companionable silence, in which Luna returned her gaze to the stars. She drank in sight of all her constellations, carefully arranged like strings of white sparks across the sky, and the moon, a cratered pearl presiding benevolently over the night-hushed landscape.
So beautiful, they were. So full of life. So vibrant, so bright, so tempting...
“Princess?”
Luna’s reverie was shattered by Vacil’s soft query. With a silent sigh, she turned her head back towards the batpony mare.
“Yes, Vacil?”
“Ah... if you don’t mind me asking, what was it that made you want to discuss the Call tonight specifically? Is there something wrong with your bond with the stars?” asked Vacil, voice concerned.
Luna sighed again, audibly this time. There it was. The fatal question. She had known, of course, that she wouldn’t have been able to avoid it forever, but it stung just the same.
“No, Captain. My soulbond is as strong as it has ever been. Which, unfortunately, is precisely the problem,” she replied sadly. I have avoided this far too long. She deserves to know, if only to ease her worries.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow...” Vacil said, sounding confused.
“Do you recall the tale of my first encounter with the Nightmare?”
Vacil nodded. “Of course.” She closed her eyes, and began to recite from memory:
“And on the darkest night of the coldest year, the Star Maiden began her divine waltz anew, as She had done for millennia past. The stars welcomed Her in Her ascent, embracing Her as mother, ally, and friend.”
Vacil paused, brow furrowing as she struggled to remember the next line of the passage. A second later, her face cleared, and she continued:
“But that night, She found a new star. This one did not welcome Her, and was cold and dark with wickedness and spite. The Star Maiden called to it, pleading it to join Her in Her dance, but it refused, lashing out with hateful tongues of midnight fire. The Maiden was shocked but undeterred, and vowed She would win over the strange dark star before the year’s end.”
Luna looked away, face burning in shame as Vacil unwittingly recounted the Night Princess’s greatest mistake. I was so young then, she thought. So proud, so naive, so foolish. She glanced at the sky, expression rueful. As if one mare, no matter how powerful, could truly command the stars.
Vacil, oblivious to Luna’s discomfort, cleared her throat and continued with the tale.
“Night after night, the Maiden danced, and night after night, the dark star refused to join Her. She began to despair, thinking that without its approval, her power over the sky would be lost. Finally, on the eve of the year’s end, the star agreed to share Her dance. The Maiden was overjoyed, and took the star into Her soul as She would any other. But star’s spirit was a terrible thing, blackened and perverted, and it took hold and began to consume Her from the inside out. Under the dark star’s soul-bound influence, the Star Maiden grew to resent her elder Sister’s reign over the Sun, and grew hateful and corrupted as the evil spirit took more and more of Her soul for its own. Then, on the longest day of the year, the dark star severed Her soulbond-”
“-and She challenged the Heiress of the Sun for power as the terrible Nightmare Moon.” Luna and Vacil spoke the story’s final line in unison, one with reverence, the other with harsh regret.
“I am glad to see you have not forgotten the old tales, Captain. Of course, knowing you, my worries were likely unfounded,” Luna said, trying to disguise the anguish in her voice. The story had reopened too many old wounds, and her pride was damaged enough as it was.
“Thank you, Princess,” Vacil replied. “But I’m still confused. What exactly do the Call and the Tale of the Dark Star have to do with, well...”
“My recent unhappiness?” asked Luna bluntly.
“Er, yes,” said Vacil, shuffling her hooves. “That is, if you don’t mind telling me...”
“No. You have the right to know, perhaps more than any other,” she said. “But I must ask that you refrain from telling anypony else what I am about to share with you.”
“Of course. I would sooner give my life than the reveal secrets of the throne,” replied Vacil earnestly.
“I have complete trust in you, Captain. Now, as for why I am unhappy...” Luna once again turned her gaze to the stars, as she already done many times that night.
“There is a fact that many overlook while recalling the tale of my corruption by the Nightmare,” she said, voice distant as the painful memories circled in her head. “The ‘divine waltz’ the story refers to is neither a metaphor nor a figment of the author’s fancy. In the ancient days, it was quite literal. Each month, when the moon was fully waned, I would ascend to the Aether and dance with the stars, drawing their power as my own and rearranging them as I saw fit. All they asked for in return was my companionship, something I was more than happy to provide.”
Vacil nodded slowly, eyes widening in awe. “You speak of the stars as if they were alive.”
Luna gave a dry chuckle. “Oh, they are, Starchild. Perhaps not in the same way as you or I, but alive nonetheless.” Her face grew somber. “The tale itself is proof enough of that.”
Vacil’s face lit up as comprehension dawned. “So, the Call...”
“-Is the stars pleading for another Nightbound to ascend and dance with them again,” finished Luna. “It affects the Stygians and other Duskwalkers to a lesser extent, but only a True Nightbound, such as myself, can ascend and answer their request. A request that, much to my regret, I have been unable to fulfill. Although the Call can be occasionally distracting at its strongest, it isn’t worth the risk of me falling victim to a dark star’s corruption again. Sister and I debated at length on the matter, but we eventually agreed that this was the best course of action.”
She sighed heavily, eyes closed. “And so, night after night, I sit, shackled to the terrestrial realm by the ancient chains of my own pride and stupidity. The stars call, yes, but I cannot answer. Never again will I paint the sky with fresh constellations, aweing ponies across the world. Never again will I reach my full magical potential, or truly be the mare once was. Never again will we dance.” She turned away from Vacil, struggling to keep her composure as traitorous tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. In a choked voice, she said, "That, Vacil-Nox-Tecama, is why I am unhappy.
Vacil stood, silent and open-mouthed, face a picture of disbelief at the princess’s show of weakness.
Of course she is surprised, Luna thought bitterly. To her, I am Luna, the Star Maiden, True Nightbound, Sovereign of the Moon. I do not show weakness. I do not wallow in self-pity. I do not cry. A quiet, stifled sob escaped her throat as if to spite her. But for once, just once, I would like to simply be Luna. A mare with a heart like any other, scarred with old mistakes and regret. A mare that is allowed to feel, to show the same weakness as any other mortal. Perhaps someday. She blinked her eyes dry and shook her head. But now, Luna, you must be strong. For the throne, and for your Captain, if nothing else. Turning back to Vacil, she said, “I... I apologize, Captain. It was unfair of me to impart my burdens upon you as i did. You need not-”
“Luna,” the batpony said, voice soft yet steely. “Stop.”
Luna was shocked into silence at both the command and the captain’s casual use of her name. Such an act would normally be a blatant violation of Guard protocol, albeit one she would happily overlook, but to hear it from Vacil, a mare whose greatest pride was her knowledge and adherence to the old codes...
“You are the Princess of the Night, and I am the captain of your Night Guard. As such, it’s my duty to protect you from any and all threats to your safety and general well-being.” Yellow eyes locked with turquoise. “Even when that threat happens to be yourself.” She gave a small smile, and continued, “So, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to find my best raven quill, a full bottle of ink, and sit down and write a letter to your sister. By tomorrow night, the Star Maiden will dance again. You have my word.”
“I... I appreciate the effort, captain,” stammered Luna, “but as I said previously, Sister and I have argued many a time about the subject since my reinstatement. I highly doubt one letter, no matter how eloquent, would be enough to sway her.”
“Well, in that case, is there any harm in trying?”
That got a small smile out of Luna. “I suppose not.” She blinked, barely suppressing a very un-princess-like yawn. “Now, I believe I shall be retiring to bed. The sky grows light, and if I am to ascend tomorrow, I would very much like to be awake for it.”
“Of course, Princess,” said Vacil. “I’ll make sure to inform you of my letter’s success as soon as I can.”
“Such confidence,” teased Luna. “You may have a way with words, Captain, but you have not debated with my sister.”
“What is a master without others with which to prove herself worthy?” replied the batpony evenly.
“On Craft and Creation, by Rustwing the Fourth, chapter one, page thirteen.” Luna’s smile grew wider. “One of my favorites.”
“Mine as well.”
“Perhaps we could arrange a meeting in which to discuss such topics at greater length. But for now, I must rest, and you, young master, have a letter to write.” She turned towards the balcony’s exit. “Good night, Starchild. May your sleep be peaceful and your dreams fair.”
“Good night, Princess. May your stars shine bright and your moon reign eternal,” said Vacil, completing the traditional farewell.
Luna nodded and began to trot back towards her waiting bed. At the door’s threshold, she hesitated, turning her head back toward the captain.
“Vacil?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“...Thank you.”
“Of course, Princess. Just doing my job.”
And with that, she spread her wings and leapt out into the cool night air, flying out towards the south tower, where the Night Guard had their barracks.
She truly is one of a kind, thought Luna as she slowly made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Were she not utterly content with being captain, I would see to it that she were instated into the Canterlot nobility... if only to see the look on that imbecile Blueblood’s face when she tears him to shambles with thousand-year-old interspecies philosophy.
The princess reached her bed and sank into it, sighing at the relief the plush midnight-blue blankets provided. Ahh. It has been far too long since I have truly rested, she thought, snuggling into the soft warmth of her pillow. Just before sleep whisked her away, she cracked one eye, staring up at the twinkling stars visible through her open bedroom window. They glowed, bright and expectant, and Luna smiled sleepily.
Be ready, my children. Grow strong and shine bright, for tomorrow, we may dance anew.
****************
Luna awoke to a hoof gently prodding her in the side. Her eyes snapped open, and she gave a yell of alarm.
“What- Intruder!”
There was a blast of purely instinctive magic as the princess jerked up from the bed, and, using the Royal Canterlot Voice to its fullest extent, shouted:
“WHO DARES DISTURB-”
She broke off at the beginning of what promised to be an excruciatingly thorough explanation on Why One Does Not Disturb Luna While She Is Asleep when she realized its target: a dazed batpony mare, dark purple mane blown back and slightly singed by the burst of defensive magic.
Luna winced. “Ah. My apologies, Captain. I should not have retaliated without at least assuring your identity,” she said sheepishly, bending down to help Vacil up. “Are you all right?”
The captain shook her head vigorously to clear it, then stood. “I’m fine, Princess. A little shaken up, but none the worse for wear. And there’s no need to apologize. If I had been an assassin, that magical backlash would have saved your life.”
“You are right, I suppose,” said Luna. She glanced at the bedroom window, frowning at the fading daylight still streaming from it. “You appear to have woken me a bit prematurely, Captain. The moon is not set to rise for two more hours at least.”
“I know, Your Majesty, but I figured you would want to know as soon as possible,” she replied.
“Know? Know what?” asked Luna, confused. Then her still-sleep-addled mind reassembled the pieces of the previous night’s conversation, and she gasped. “You didn’t...”
Vacil grinned proudly. “Oh, but Your Majesty, I did.” She closed her eyes, and there was a sound like rushing water as a scroll materialised from a shadowy rift in the air. Luna took it with her magic and began to read, eyes scanning the parchment with ravenous hope.
Sister:
After considering the arguments presented by Royal Captain Vacil-Nox-Tecama, I’ve reconsidered my ultimatum on your monthly ascension to the stars. While there’s no doubt the Nightmare still lurks among the vastness of the heavens, I have faith that you will not fall victim to the same deceptions as you did on that winter’s night all those years ago. You are my sister, beautiful, proud, and stronger than the dark star will ever be. I see that now, and regret not having realized it sooner. Forgive me.
There is, however, one problem: the reactions of our subjects. As you have no doubt noticed yourself, many ponies are less than welcome to the idea of any significant changes in their day-to-day lives, let alone ones on an Aetheric scale. While reordering the stars wouldn’t have any direct effect, I am confident that it would cause at least something of an uproar.
Therefore, I think it would be best if you relegated yourself to a single night a year of your choosing. Enough to satisfy the Starcall, but not so frequent as to disturb the populace unduly. We could make an event of it, like in the ancient days. I think ‘The Starcall Celebration’ has a nice ring to it, but of course, it’s up to you.
Enjoy your night, sister. I can’t wait to see the stars.
-Celestia
P.S.
I wish I could have delivered this to you in person rather than in written form, but the nobles have once again proven their incredible aptitude at turning very small problems into incomprehensibly large ones. I would very much like to talk tomorrow, perhaps over tea.
P.P.S.
When you see Miss Nox-Tecama, please inform her that her letter was quite possibly the most elegant and well-worded collection of thoughts I have ever had the pleasure of reading. While its length of thirty-eight pages may have been a tad excessive- Luna eye’s widened in disbelief- it nonetheless delivered its point extraordinarily well. Were she not already Captain, I would suggest a promotion, but as it is, I would say a ‘thank-you’ is in order, and a large one at that. You owe her, Sister. Don’t forget.
Luna realized her mouth was hanging open slightly, and quickly closed it.
“Vacil... I...” She struggled to find the words that would accurately convey her gratitude. “Thank you, again. You do not know how much this means to me-”
The batpony blushed and ruffled her wings. “Like I said before, Princess. Just doing my job. Glad I could help.”
That did it.
To Tartarus with protocol, thought Luna. She has just single-hoofedly replaced a part of my life that I thought I would never have again. I owe her something more than a mere ‘Thank You.’
And with that thought, she smiled, spread her wings, and grabbed the batpony in a tight, grateful hug.
“Thank you, Vacil-Nox-Tecama. The stars and I are forever in your debt.”
Vacil, for her part, just smiled and nodded.
When the embrace broke, Luna was feeling better than she had since the she was first cleansed of the Nightmare those many months ago. She looked out the bedroom window, drinking in the sight of the rich peaches-and-cream-colored sunset against the gleaming towers of Canterlot. Filled with nitwits or not, the city was still undeniably pretty.
“So, Princess,” said Vacil, sharing her gaze. “When are you going to pick? The winter solstice, as per tradition? Or perhaps-”
“Why, tonight, of course.”
The batpony raised her eyebrows. “Tonight? Are you sure that’s wise, Princess? I’m not sure how well the general population of Equestria would take to the stars suddenly rearranging themselves without warning. There will be talk-”
“Let them talk,” said Luna firmly. “Let them wonder. Let them realize that I, Luna, True Nightbound, have returned to my full glory and splendor. A thousand years I have waited, and now, with the opportunity hanging above me like a ripe fruit-” She gestured out to the sky beyond the window- “I am afraid I can wait no longer.”
Vacil nodded slowly. “All right. But in the future, I would suggest giving the citizens at least some sort of warning before you ascend.”
Luna returned the nod. “Certainly. As Sister said, we shall make a grand event of it. Just as in the ancient days. But for now...” she said, shooting the captain a grin that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an excited schoolfilly, “For now, the night is mine.”
****************
The soft breeze fluttered and tickled through the cool air, flitting around and rustling the ivy just as it had the night before. This time, Luna let it be, content with simply staring out into the sky.
There they were.
Her stars.
Thousands upon thousands of brilliant globes, pulsing with a life both ancient and young. They called to her, as they had so many nights before, and she listened. The stars had no language. They had no need of one. They spoke instead in pure emotion and sensation, conveying more than words could ever hope to.
Hello, my children, thought Luna, looking up at the twinkling lights. It has been a long while, has it not?
A barrage of emotions poured out in reply. Confusion. Anger. Loss. Yearning. Hope.
I was a fool, and I pray you can forgive me, though I do not deserve it.
Acceptance. Rage. Agreement. Spite.
For now, if you so agree, I shall dance with you again.
Nothing.
The stars were silent, and Luna had the peculiar sensation of the world holding its breath. Then, so sudden and strong that she nearly doubled over from the sheer force of it, it came:
Joy. Pure and untainted, a gigantic outpouring of happiness from every corner of the cosmos.
The princess laughed, giddy with excitement, and closed her eyes. She felt her mortal form slipping away, twining up into the Aether like a eager grapevine.
This... oh, I had forgotten how wonderful this feels.
And then, with the dark-bright flash of a dying moon, she was there. Luna, the Star Maiden, in full aspect among her children and kin. She felt the pull of a thousand tiny suns and a thousand tiny realities, little complex knots of thought and probability looping and twisting within themselves. She looked down on Equestria, huge and glorious and civil and untamed, with its millions of souls simply living, breathing, being, their very existence woven between the sparkling fabric of the stars. She saw all, bright and beautiful and complex and confusing, and had She a mouth, She would have smiled.
Come, my children. For tonight, we dance.
She called, and the stars obliged. They approached Her slowly at first, in the slow-tempoed twos and threes of a cautious waltz. She waltzed with them, spinning each to its new locus and receiving a soft kiss of power as She did.
They are cautious. They fear me, and they fear my betrayal, as they should, but I shall not give them any more reason to.
Gradually, the stars grew bolder. They began to twist and ripple around her, like so many leaves in the wind. She leapt to match them, and they began to dance in earnest, each downbeat forming a new constellation. With every spin and swing, another glowing paintdrop joined its brothers, forming a sea of brilliant light and shape across the inky canvas of the night.
Luna felt the ancient sparks of power within Her, rising and burning brighter with every measure of the universe’s ancient rhythm. With a sweep and a stab of joy, She scattered them across the sky, laughing as each and every one fell into perfect place.
What is an artist without her paints? She asked the universe, slowing in Her dance for what could’ve been a minute or an eternity. I may never know, but now, I shall have no need to.
The stars heard Her, and they agreed.
For now, I am where I should be, and that is all that truly matters.
There was another glow of joy, and the stars began to spin once more, throwing impossible refractions of overlapping light in every direction that ever could be and had been.
Now, my children, my allies, my kin...
Let us continue, and dance together into eternity.
****************
Celestia sat on the edge of her bed, eyes wide and expression rapt at the scene happening outside her window. The stars were dancing, flickering and flitting around the sky like puppets controlled by some unseen master. Every so often, a group would spin away, scattering back across the heavens in a completely new pattern.
She’s certainly enjoying herself, the princess thought, smiling. And why would she not? A thousand years away from something so deeply tied to you... I cannot think to imagine how painful it must have been.
As she watched, a group of stars looped around each other, forming glowing concentric rings before exploding into new places across the sky. Hopefully this won’t cause too much of a stir amongst the populace, beautiful and awe-inspiring as it may be-
Celestia’s thought was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a dragonfire materialization, and a few seconds later, a scroll dropped into her lap, still trailing greenish smoke. The princess opened it immediately. Why would Twilight be up at such an hour? she thought, suddenly concerned. Surely there isn’t a problem that can’t wait until morning...
The letter’s contents was brief, and looked like it had been hastily written under great duress.
Dear Princess Celestia,
What in the name of Equestria and beyond is happening to the stars? I’m looking at them through my telescope right now, and it appears they’re actually (as silly as this may sound) moving! Almost as if they were in some kind of strange dance. Is this a new prophecy? Another ancient evil rising again? Should we report to the castle? Please respond!
Your concerned student,
Twilight Sparkle
The princess gave a soft chuckle. Oh, my little pony. I should have known you would be the first to demand an explanation for any of this. Her horn glowed, and quill, ink, and parchment floated towards her in a corona of pinkish light. Smiling to herself, the princess began to write.
My dearest Twilight,
I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. This experience is one to be cherished and remembered, not questioned and analysed. And as for an explanation?
Celestia glanced out the window again, and, for just a fragment of a moment, she could have sworn she heard strains of ancient song.
Simply a little night music.
