Broken Promises at a Hearth's Warming Eve Pageant
The two ponies sitting in the private box were familiar with the story about to be played onstage, though one much more so than the other. How could they not, when it was one of the most important stories in Equestria? And perhaps it was the most important, for few other stories could begin to challenge the one of the nation’s founding.
Coco Pommel had never seen the Canterlot rendition of the Hearth’s Warming pageant before. Her experience had been limited to Bridleway musical adaptations, and mostly from behind the backdrop. Not that she hadn’t been involved in the design of the costumes for this pageant as well, but a dedicated set costumer handled the backstage preparations. This would be a novel experience for Coco, and the identity of her companion made it especially so.
“It must be nice for your work to finally be onstage,” said Princess Luna.
That voice always brought a smile to Coco’s face. “You should be happy, too. So much of it was yours.”
“Nonsense. I barely did anything, and honestly, my sister could have provided the same.”
Coco lightly poked her on the shoulders. “Luna.”
“Fine,” the alicorn grumbled. “I suppose I helped with the concept.”
“Of course you did! This entire performance was your idea.” Coco leaned back and let out a breath, flicking her tail in an attempt to find a comfortable position on the oversized seat. “I just hope it works out.”
For weeks under Sun and Moon they had worked, searching for exactly the right fabrics and recreating ancient techniques with their associated implements. Luna had been dredging up half-forgotten memories while Coco translated them into historically accurate costumes for the entire cast of the pageant; it was something old in this modern world, and nothing else felt quite like a job well done. But something had been nagging at Coco all that time.
“Coco, I know how you feel about using the costumes to make the pageant appear more authentic. It may not have the effect I once desired, but it would at least be a start.”
“I guess,” Coco replied, and she kept the rest of her worries to herself.
While working on the project, Luna had seemed an odd mix of pensive and energetic. One moment she would be arguing fervently with her Guards to allow Coco access to Clover’s cloak, and the next she would fall into complete silence while Coco investigated alone. Assistance was offered with enthusiasm, so long as it was strictly on-topic; casual inquiries about the costumes’ subjects were met with terse responses and the occasional bout of melancholy. Luna could be enigmatic in many ways, but this…
…nevermind. If Luna didn’t want to talk about it, Coco wouldn’t force her.
Luna’s voice made Coco turn towards her with a start. “Do you remember the dress you made for the Royal Canterlot show?”
Coco grimaced upon being reminded. “I didn’t know that—”
“Not your fault. If anything, I should have realized that my sister would react so strongly to your dress.”
“Still, maybe I shouldn’t have chosen your old lieutenant as my subject. The popularity was nice, but when Princess Celestia’s reaction was the only thing that made the dress fashionable, it…”
“Coco, you are not that pony anymore. It is not as if you’d planned for it.” Luna absentmindedly tapped a hoof as she recalled the details. “I remember giving you my leave, but nopony could have expected it to be so provocative.”
Coco’s ears had still been ringing when Her Royal Highnesses finally announced their rankings. The dress that she had poured so many hours into was deemed merely acceptable, and she hadn’t received many kind words, either.
So it was a complete surprise when, right after the show, Coco had received an invitation to meet with Princess Luna at The Evergreen Leaf.
“But you talked with me about that dress afterwards.”
Luna blushed, a faint indigo lighting up her cheeks. “I had to make my true thoughts known, lest you thought that my comments in the judging panel were the extent of my appreciation.”
“I was so scared, too. It was… maybe the first time we’ve met? And you were so cold during the judging—”
“Out of respect for my sister. And it was our second meeting; the first was after a performance of My Fair Filly.”
Coco paused for a moment. “Oh, right.” She flushed with embarrassment. The princess’s backstage tour had entirely slipped Coco’s mind, since she had been needed for another project at the time. “I can’t believe I never realized.”
“It was a passing encounter,” Luna said. She shrugged. “I had heard about you from Rarity, but even then I doubt we had much to say to each other. Perhaps you were right in identifying that evening in The Evergreen Leaf as our first true meeting.”
The jokes, the stories, the laughter… A smile slowly grew over Coco’s lips. “It’s what started it all, wasn’t it?”
Luna stared back with half-lidded eyes. “It was.”
Coco closed her eyes and lifted her chin ever so slightly. They leaned in until their lips met, and then they leaned in closer.
The red beyond their eyes slowly faded to black, and the soft noises of the audience fell silent. Luna broke apart the kiss, causing Coco to open her eyes. The play was about to start.
“I asked about the dress,” Luna said, “because I was thinking about how well you built upon Shadow Loom’s original design, and how you didn’t have an opportunity here. Are you sure—”
“Luna, authenticity was the entire point! Of course I’m fine with it. Besides, I don’t know if you could have put up with me trying things out while still preserving accuracy. It would have taken so much longer and—”
“Not a single moment with you is ever wasted, Coco.”
Coco felt the blood rush to her face. Luna simply smiled and stretched a wing behind Coco’s back, holding her close. Coco squirmed for a moment, before finally returning the gesture with a hoof and leaning against the broad shoulder. The blush deepened.
“Let’s just watch the play,” Coco whispered.
So they did. The narrator’s voice rang out, and the actors walked out wearing the costumes that Coco and Luna had so painstakingly designed. It was different from what Coco was used to; the Bridleway actors all tended to be familiar faces, for one, and they never would have cast somepony with such a heavy Saddle Arabian accent as the narrator.
As the play went on, it became more and more clear that none of the actors were professionals. Not that they were unpracticed—every line seemed to be delivered without hesitation, and scenes flowed from one to the next. Yet sometimes an actor would step too far, or not far enough, and be forced to make a small adjustment to reposition themselves. The volume of the actors’ speech would also fluctuate as they turned towards the audience or towards each other, unused to the way they had to adjust their voices to compensate.
Still, Coco enjoyed the show. Everpony had poured their heart and soul into their roles, and their imperfections only added a sort of lively and hectic energy to the pageant. Though the story was the same, its unique flavour distinguished it from the Manehattan pageant more than Coco had expected.
In fact, she was so absorbed that, when she looked onstage, she could forget the hours which she and Luna had spent on the costumes and simply enjoy the play for what it was.
Luna’s experience was completely different.
“Luna, what’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” Luna realized that the tears in her eyes spoke otherwise. “No. Yes. I…”
Coco pressed harder against Luna, tightening her one-armed embrace. “You can take your time.”
Luna nodded. And let her tears flow.
Through her blurry eyes, she saw not the pony who had been chosen to perform this year, but Commander Hurricane, the proud voice echoing through her mind. The pegasus had served the fledgling kingdom with her mind as well as her blade, often counselling Luna and Celestia on diplomatic matters when she had finally become convinced of the two young alicorns’ capabilities to rule.
She saw Private Pansy, who had always been the more reasonable of the two founding pegasi. She had never seemed to get over being rewarded for what she forever saw as insubordination.
She saw Chancellor Puddinghead, who, for all of his eccentricities—or perhaps due to them—had often managed to outsmart her schemes.
Princess Platinum, who had grown into a great friend despite their first meeting.
And…
“Have I ever told you,” Luna whispered, “about Clover?”
“I’m… listening,” replied Coco. Despite her hesitance, her tone was soft and measured, revealing a resolve behind her words.
Luna took a breath. “She… she was like a sister to us. Celestia and I, I mean. She was Starswirl’s oldest apprentice, and often had to keep us younger fillies in check. I”—Luna had to pause again, swallowing—“I loved her, Coco. Now that she is gone, everypony is gone… and all anypony does is tell these frankly ridiculous stories as if we are not even real ponies. I… I wished…”
Coco had stayed silent for far too long. And because she was oblivious at times, she simply asked, “Luna, is this the real reason why you wanted me to make accurate costumes? Just so you could see them again?”
Luna gasped. She pulled her wing back, and Coco immediately let go as well. The alicorn glared at Coco with her ice-blue eyes, her body drawn to its full height and her wings flared in challenge. The little earth pony shied back.
But after a moment, Luna realized that there had been no accusation in those words, and she seemed to melt into her seat.
“I’m sorry,” Luna said, wings covering her tear-ridden face. “I should have trusted you.”
There was stillness for a long moment, aside from Luna’s unsteady breaths. Then, she felt a hoof tentatively brushing against her feathers. Luna slowly brought her wings away from her face, and she felt a familiar warmth press against her.
“And I should have been brave enough to ask,” the earth pony said. Coco once again wrapped a leg around Luna. “Knowing about it wouldn’t have changed anything. I still would have made the designs.” The fact that Coco herself was not sure of those words was something that Luna did not know.
“Thank you, Coco. I…” But Luna’s voice trailed off. She had meant to say more, but her thoughts were whisked away as her gaze drifted back to her old friends on the stage, her heart returned to the freezing past.
She remembered the endless cold, the desperate hunger which had forced them to find a new land, only for that fleeting hope to be buried under yet another blizzard. Clover, Pansy, and Smart had worked hard to forge the alloy of Equestria, and though she and Celestia were the ones who took the throne, Luna would never forget their legacy.
But these aren’t them. Hurricane had been cunning, decisive, not like this actor who was doing her best impression of an addict who couldn’t quit hearing their own voice. And Puddinghead had been serious then, when the fate of the earth ponies could be sealed with a single wrong word. And though the costumes had been perfect, Smart Cookie had always worn the hat with the feather to the right. Not like this impersonator.
Coco Pommel had been expecting more in the way of response from Luna. She hadn’t minded the months of work dedicated to the project, but she felt she deserved to know why Luna had hidden so much. She caught herself glaring at Luna, her ears flat against her skull.
But then she saw how Luna’s eyes were glued to the stage, too lost in her own memories to even finish her sentence, the past burying her present. There would be words for Luna… and those could wait. Coco forced herself to stay calm. For now, she simply tried to imagine how Luna would see the play; though she knew next to nothing about these ponies, she knew they were Luna’s friends.
So when Luna made to stand up, Coco tightened her grip. “It couldn’t bring them back,” Coco said.
Luna glanced down in surprise.
“Nothing will bring them back, Luna. Even if the costumes are perfect, if the script is accurate, and the actors play their best… it won’t be them.”
Luna wiped her eyes, but it only smeared the tears across her coat. “Then,” she said, her voice ragged and barely audible, “how do I honour them? I had thought that this play would be enough, but…”
On the stage, the blizzard had followed the actors into the new land, and the ponies were forced to take shelter in a nearby cave lest they become buried by the snow.
Coco shook her head. “I don’t know who they were. Even now, I’ve only heard the legends, and we both know how misleading those can be. You knew them, Luna, so only you can say what they would have wanted.”
“They”—they had pleaded for me to reconsider—”they would have wanted Equestria and the ideals of friendship to live on.”
“Then isn’t the story enough? Simply remembering what they did for us, and carrying on their legacy. I think that’s what they would have wanted.”
Luna did not reply, and Coco could sense the disagreement behind the silence. Still, an explanation would be required. “Luna?”
The pause was time that Luna had used to formulate a response. “It’s just that, sometimes, mere remembrance does not seem enough.” Not after what I did.
“Nothing will ever be enough,” Coco said. “Because nothing can bring them back.” The small earth pony seemed to shrink as she braced herself against an imminent wind. She whispered, “This is all we can do.”
“This?” Luna swept a hoof, gesturing vaguely at the stage. “This is remembrance? This… this is a farce, a mockery! The costumes do not change any of this!”
By this point, the leaders of the three tribes were already beginning to freeze.
“You never even told me about them,” Coco said. A hint of her anger was creeping into her voice. “Despite everything we’ve done, despite our goals here. How else do you expect ponies to remember?”
“It… it hurts to talk about them.” The bite had left Luna’s words, replaced with a lukewarm bitterness. “And it also hurts that nopony knows who they are. I am nothing but—”
“Not a hypocrite, Luna. Feelings… are always real, even if they seem illogical.” There was a subtle emphasis on the final word.
Luna suddenly felt winded. She took a breath, forced the air out, and then sucked in another through the tightness in her chest. Her vision shook and went dark, and the world around her seemed to fall away. The only sound she could hear was the muffled pounding of her own heart. But through the haze, she found something which seemed solid.
When Coco saw how Luna was panicking, she placed her other leg around Luna. Luna returned the gesture, clinging to Coco like how a drowning pony would hold a lifeline. Coco allowed Luna’s head to rest on her withers.
“It’s okay,” Coco said, Luna’s vice-like grip still around her barrel. It seemed to be the correct thing to say. “It’s okay…”
Slowly, Luna’s breathing returned to normal, and the embrace softened. Sweat had soaked through into Coco’s coat, along with tears.
There was a long moment where the only sounds that broke the silence were the confessions of Clover, Pansy, and Smart Cookie onstage.
“It’s just… Coco, I miss them so much.”
“I know.”
“I wish that other ponies knew them for who they were.”
“I know.”
“And there’s nopony who cares.”
Coco thought for a moment. “I don’t think that’s true. I care. And doesn’t Princess Celestia feel the same? You should talk to her. She would remember them as well, and… there is no better day than today.”
“…yes. That would make sense.” Luna hung her head and sighed. “I do not know what I was thinking, all those moons when I kept everything inside.”
“Before your dream patrol, Luna. You shouldn’t have to carry this burden any longer than you have to.”
A bright pink glow emanated from the stage.
Luna looked up at Coco again, a newfound determination in her eyes. “I will. And… I cannot believe that I failed to confide in you. Come join us, and I will need to tell you what actually happened. Hurricane would have been appalled at some of her recent portrayals.”
“Actually, I don’t think I have time. I’ll need to leave right after the play if I want to catch the last train.”
There was a moment when Luna was confused. They had planned to stay the night in the Royal tower… then the mere fact that the realization had taken so long made the bile rise in Luna’s throat. She had not at all considered how Coco must have felt, being lied to for months by the one who should have trusted her the most.
“Coco, you cannot spend Hearth’s Warming Eve alone!” Luna cried. She reached a hoof out, hesitating at the last second, leaving it hovering a hoof-width above Coco’s withers. “I’m so sorry. I should never have kept anything from you. Stay with me. Please.”
Coco shook her head. “I guess I can still stay in the palace, but I won’t be spending time with you or Celestia tonight. I need some time by myself.”
Luna bowed her head in concession and shame. “I understand. And I am sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll make sure I see you tomorrow, Luna. And then we’ll open our presents together, like we planned.” And I hope that I can forgive you.
And the two ponies remained silent in their own seats long after the carol ended, lost in their own thoughts. Luna didn’t know what to say, and as for the other, Coco knew she had to sort out her own tangled emotions. It was only as the last of the audience trickled away that Luna asked one of her Guards to find Coco a room in the east tower—its view was supposedly second only to where Coco had originally planned on staying.
“Good night, Luna,” Coco had said.
And Luna had barely managed a reply. She sat by herself for a while longer in the empty theatre, before finally walking outside the entrance and taking to the dark, cold skies.
Author's Note
Bold of me to assume that you found this story without finding Limerence by Bicyclette first, but you should go read that if you haven't already. It's a wonderful story featuring the same two characters (Coco x Luna), and Bicyclette tackles this relationship in far more interesting ways (and far better) than I did. Go read it.
