“Of course, and Twilight’s mane highlights are slightly farther to the left than they should be.”
“I’m serious, Starlight! I’ve run the calculations five different ways, and it still doesn’t add up. The stars aren’t where they’re supposed to be.”
“Mhmm.”
“Listen,” Sunburst started with a sigh, “maybe the star charts are a little off—we are talking about pre-banishment era documents. Extremely early ones. But this isn’t ‘slightly farther left’ or something; the stars aren’t even close to what later astronomers recorded. It’s like they just reappeared in different spots.”
Starlight released her magic, dumping a pile of books onto the table. “I get it, but why didn’t you ask Princess Celestia when you saw her earlier? Dragging your marefriend to the library doesn’t exactly count as a date, Sunburst. Especially if we’re here to read weather reports, almanacs, and astrological records from a thousand years ago.”
“Hehe, and is there something else you’d rather read?” As Sunburst set another dozen books on the table, Starlight pulled a book from her pile and flashed the cover at him. “Oh… um… I didn’t know you enjoyed… uh… and doesn’t that belong in a different section of the library?”
“Didn’t you know? It’s considered a classic,” Starlight replied with a satisfied grin. “Thought I’d brush up on a few things while you’re studying—it’s been a while, after all. Might be useful for later, you know?”
Sunburst knew. Oh, he knew. It took a second, but after Starlight winked at him, he knew he didn’t like where this was going. Or maybe he did. Mares were confusing like that.
“Ah, right. Of course, I can see how you could—I mean we could… Um…” Attempting to clear his throat, Sunburst stifled a cough. “Well, moving on, I don’t want to bother the Princesses with such a silly request. The explanation for all this is probably simple. An error that was corrected in later works. An undocumented astrological event. I’m sure the answer is in here somewhere.”
With that, Sunburst slid the first book over while Starlight cracked open her “reading material.” They arrived at the Royal Canterlot Library later than Sunburst had hoped for, and though collecting all the books took some time, the sun was still high overhead. Its rays cut through the tall windows dotted around the library, warming the soft carpeted floors.
This was never a popular place on weekends, strangely enough. A few ponies milled about in other sections, but most were simply there to check out a book. Personally, Sunburst could think of few things better than being surrounded by the smell of worn books and aged wood. In that regard, the Canterlot Royal Library was special. Its collection of books was second to none, and the shelves housing them were built centuries ago by the finest artisans Equestria could offer. Their work, much like the writings they held, withstood the test of time.
Every decade or two, Celestia herself would have the massive bookshelves rearranged to better accommodate the library’s ever-growing collection. But the wonderful smell of antique hardwood and turned pages still remained. Anypony who attended Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns became very familiar with this smell, as Sunburst did during his time there. Few of his former classmates could stand the aroma nowadays—it brought to mind nothing but hours of anxiety from last-minute study sessions.
Not the ideal spot for a date, perhaps. Starlight did have him there. Most unicorns as accomplished and talented as her had strong feelings about this place. Strong negative feelings, specifically. She was still there though. On a Saturday. With him.
So just sitting there together was enough.
And that’s how they spent the next hours. Side by side, Sunburst and Starlight leaned into each other as they both read. There wasn’t much of use in the first book.
Or the second.
Or the third.
Sunburst stopped counting after the tenth, but Starlight had made it halfway through her book before he remembered she was there.
Reaching over, he gently nuzzled her cheek. Unexpected snuggling—his mother gave him an extended lecture about the subject last month. Any time he saw Starlight now, his mom would ask about it. Much to his chagrin, things went much better when he followed her advice on the topic.
“How’s the book?”
Starlight purred as Sunburst’s warm breath caressed her fur. “Mmmhmm, it’s fine. I’ve read better.”
“Do I want to know what else is on your library record?”
“It’s so fun to embarrass the librarians.”
“Only for you,” Sunburst replied with a soft chuckle. “I’ll bet you’re the reason parents are required to accompany their children now.”
“Maaaayyybe.” Gods above, Starlight loved teasing this stallion. He snuggled against her neck, and she leaned in to smell his mane—a soft, natural scent. Sunburst never cared for fancy colognes or soaps; he smelled exactly like who he was inside. “Come on, let’s go get smoothies. You can get coconut and I’ll get mango; when we make out later, it’ll be tropical.”
When Sunburst pulled back with a blush, Starlight snuck in for a quick kiss—which tasted suspiciously like a centuries-old tome. First edition, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Oh, hey! I think this might be exactly what I’m looking for,” Sunburst said. Lowering his impromptu shield, he continued. “Just one more book, then we can go. Promise.”
“You’re paying for smoothies. I’m getting an extra large, double fruit.”
“Deal.”
Maybe it wasn’t a fair trade. Starlight knew how Sunburst could be when books and puzzles were involved, but she was willing to make sacrifices. After all, some things in life are worth it. An extra-large, double fruit smoothie is one of those things.
She just didn’t expect what came next.
An hour later, after she finished her book and began another, Sunburst still hadn’t set his down. Another hour after that, Starlight realized this wasn’t going the way she thought it would.
However, Sunburst had realized something else, but no matter how much he read and reread, he still couldn’t understand.
“Historical facts. That’s what the author bases his assertions on throughout the entire book. Then, this one passage references an event found nowhere in recorded history.”
“Neat,” Starlight replied. Her mouth barely moved.
“This is a folktale of astronomical proportions; somepony apparently changed the heavens themselves. We have no idea who they were, or if they even existed, but the author just keeps going. See, look here,” Sunburst said, pointing to a specific paragraph.
Starlight’s head rested disinterestedly on a hoof as she continued reading her book. “Yep.”
“So this passage is about pre-banishment astronomy,” he continued obliviously, “and it mentions a ‘pony who returned the stars,’ but that has to be a metaphor or a myth, right?”
Slowly, Starlight’s eyelids closed. A few moments later, they reopened.
“This could be how they explained an unknown phenomenon—myths often start that way—but then why was it never corrected? And the dates line up. Almost perfectly. Celestia or Luna could theoretically do something like this; I wouldn’t put it pass their abilities. The author doesn’t mention them though, and if it wasn’t one of the sisters, who could it be?”
Starlight didn’t respond.
“Exactly! None of it makes sense. So here’s where it gets strange: the author didn’t say it was ‘a member of the tribes,’ which is how they referred to unknown ponies around that time. ‘Pony’ referred to an earth pony, not a unicorn or pegasus. So after the stars disappeared, an earth pony managed to bring them back.” Sunburst slouched forward and sighed. “Somehow.”
Starlight didn’t move. However, she did let out a strange, bear-like sound.
“Um, okay,” Sunburst replied. “I’m not sure what—”
Staring at him unblinkingly, Starlight cut him off with another loud guttural noise, followed by a snort. Sunburst nervously looked around to see if any librarians were nearby.
“Starlight, come on—cut it out. Somepony’s going to hear you,” he whispered, poking her with a hoof. At his touch, Starlight’s head slipped limply onto the book below her. She still hadn’t blinked, but the thump did seem to quiet her.
“I doubt she’ll awaken before morning.”
The unexpected voice made him jump, but Sunburst tried not to yelp as Princess Luna strode forward from behind the bookshelves. She lacked most of her regalia, but a worn pair of brown saddlebags draped over her haunches.
“Princess? Is something wrong? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to raise the moon?”
“You seem to have lost track of time. I already did,” Luna replied, slowly shutting Starlight’s eyelids for her. And indeed, she had. Outside, the moon gracefully continued its ascent into the night sky. Sunburst hadn’t even seen the beams of soft blue light peeking through the library’s windows. “My sister told me you sought to learn more about why the stars strayed from their paths.”
“But I didn’t tell anyone why we were here. How did she…”
“My sister and I have excellent hearing, and your voice has a very… distinct tone when a subject takes your interest,” Luna answered, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “Celestia said you sounded ‘exceptionally determined.’ She suspected I would find you here—likely with many questions, and few answers.”
Sighing, Sunburst put a hoof to his forehead. Celestia and Luna could have ruled Equestria through intuition alone, and once again, she was absolutely right. Questions were all he had.
When did the stars disappear? What brought them back? How did they disappear in the first place? Who returned them? Where are the records of this event? Each question held another dozen mysteries, but there wasn’t much Sunburst could do until he knew something. Unfortunately, that was proving difficult—maybe impossible.
Right now, only one question seemed like it might have an easy answer.
“Starlight, wake up. Princess Luna is here,” Sunburst said, nudging the mare beside him. No matter how hard he prodded though, she only moved with the steady rise and fall of her breathing. “Were you always such a heavy sleeper?”
“Perhaps, but most ponies find it difficult to wake up from a sleeping spell, especially one of mine.”
“Ah… um.” Sunburst scratched at his goatee before readjusting his glasses. “And… why did you cast a sleeping spell on Starlight?”
He hadn’t noticed until then just how quiet the library had become. It helped that Starlight’s snoring ended when she slumped onto the table, but the silence extended beyond their little nook of the library. Pages rustling, hoofsteps softly pattering, doors opening and closing—nothing. All the sounds had been swallowed entirely, leaving only three ponies. For a time, their gentle breaths were the only noises left.
Princess Luna brushed her hoof alongside the nearest shelf, looking at each book as she passed them. “A pony who caused the stars to shine: few creatures alive believe in such things. They’d likely say what you’ve found is an oddity or a mistake. My sister is one of the few who knows otherwise, as am I.”
Eventually, her hoof reached a space that shouldn’t exist—enchanted to be unnoticeable, yet in plain view for those with eyes to see. Inside, a strange tome rested barely in view. Luna stared at its weathered cover before lifting the book with her magic. Paging through it, the Princess paused briefly after reaching the end and quickly shuffled her saddlebags to tuck something inside.
“This story wasn’t recorded in history books, nor will you find many references to it in academic papers,” she said, rummaging through her saddlebags. A pencil and paper floated up from her bags while Luna continued shifting things around to make room. “But I doubt you would be satisfied with the explanations found elsewhere. Understand, however, that there is a reason you’ve not heard this tale before.
“Some stories are best told to none,” Princess Luna whispered, staring down at the tome.
Sunburst gently shifted his hooves, leaning against the table. “Then why is only Starlight asleep?”
Bowing her head, Luna wrote a short note and placed it on the shelf. “Because perhaps this is not one of them,” she replied, levitating the book over to him.
Sunburst laid it down and softly slid his hoof over the cover. An ancient royal crest adorned the front, matching the tome’s aged appearance. Preservation spells seemed to be holding it all together, if only barely, but this was clearly a relic from another time. Glancing up, Sunburst saw Luna motion him to open the cover.
Inside, the pages kept a flowing but efficient hoofwriting style. However, nine words written in an entirely different, large cursive script covered the first page.
“Dedicated to the one for whom the stars shine…”
When the stars left on a midsummer night—disappearing from the heavens, leaving Equestria lost in the cold light of the moon—many tried to find them in the skies. They searched through looking glasses and atop hills, but day after day passed without their warmth. Yet, much as it always has, life went on.
Once their absence had almost grown tolerable, one stallion said to himself, “I must find the stars before it is too late, before all have forgotten. I will seek the Council of Heavens and return their stars to the skies.”
So he climbed the tallest mountain, where land touches sky, and shouted into the abyss. However, they could not hear him; they were still too far away. The next day, he travelled to the village below and borrowed an ax, so that he might gather timbers from the mountain’s forest. One by one, he felled the trees and carried them to the summit’s peak. Laying each log carefully atop another, he built a tower with stairs spiraling into space, so that he might gain the attention of the Council of Heavens.
“Great Ones!” he shouted that night, “I desire an audience with you.”
“Mhmm?” A silken mane and sharp teeth followed the voice out from the darkness. “You are bold for a mortal. And loud!” The lion of the skies, Leo, yawned with disinterest at the pony before him. “I’ve waited many millennia for this nap. Why have you woken me?”
“Mighty King, I seek a meeting with the Council of Heavens. I wish to return the stars.”
“And what makes you think you can?” Leo said, tilting his head. The stallion could not reply, and a drowsy chuckle slipped through the Mighty King’s jaws. “You are more daring than most, to challenge the Heavens. How amusing. I will gather them.”
With a roar befitting his title, Leo summoned the other constellations so that the pony could speak with them. Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces all came forth from the darkened skies.
“The Council of Heavens will hear you now, mortal,” Leo said, looking to the others around him. “You wish for us to return our stars to the skies.”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Why?” Leo asked. “The moon provides enough light with what it borrows from Sol. Yet we must work endlessly to illuminate the skies with our light. Are we not deserving of an end to our toil? Do you believe yourself deserving of our labor?”
“No, I am a simple creature, unworthy to stand underneath your beauty. But—”
“Then you are a fool to plead before us,” Aries cut in. “Why should this wooden tower not become your funeral pyre?”
Hesitance gripped the stallion’s throat. “That is for you to decide,” he said. “Though I would still ask you to return the stars to the sky.”
A tremendous laugh rumbled in Leo’s stomach at the pony’s reply. “You are an audacious and brash mortal. Were you born under my stars?”
“I was.”
“Perhaps that is why I like you so. Tell us, what compels you to such recklessness?” Leo asked with a grin still spread across his snout.
The stallion stared into the ancient lion’s eyes and answered, “Love.”
Far away, ponies claimed to hear a howling laughter, one that seemed to resound throughout the vast beyond itself. On a cloudless night, water drops larger than any apple or pear landed to and fro across the land, startling many shepherds and travelers.
“Love?” Leo wiped a paw across his cheek, drying his wet fur. “Few would dare challenge us for such a reason. Something so fickle, so elusive. You entertain me mortal; perhaps I have slept long enough. On my honor, my pride will shine so long as you and your love walk the earth.”
“You are too easily swayed, Leo,” Aries grumbled. “Our curse is finally broken, yet you would prolong it to humor your curiosity?”
With a snort, Leo shook his mane and laid down, lazily resting his chin atop a paw.
Setting a hand on Aries’ back, Sagittarius spoke. “Let the stallion speak of his love. If his words are true and his tongue honest, perhaps this quest is not in vain.”
“I fear your faith may be misplaced, Noble Archer, for love may not be enough to return your stars,” the pony replied.
“Let us see then, so that we may judge for ourselves,” Sagittarius said.
“I would, but she is far from me.”
“That is not a concern for the immortal,” Aries said, shaking his head. “Climb upon my back, and we will find her.”
So beyond where roads can lead and across distant mountains, the stallion led the Council of the Heavens.
“Do you know where you are taking us, mortal?” Aries asked.
“No,” he replied, searching the land below. “I follow my heart towards where it aches more; with each pang, I know she is closer to me.”
And it was as he said. There—where few dare tread—was the mare, his love. She walked alone underneath the barren night skies, and the stallion’s heart ached more than he could bear.
At the sight of her, Sagittarius drew his bow and looked to the stallion. “Your heart points as true as my aim, mortal. It will be as you wish. My quiver will empty each night to fill the sky with stars.”
Aries turned to the Noble Archer and sighed, before looking again to the pony upon his back. “You are not misled, mortal, for I see a mare highly coveted in this realm, certainly worthy of this quest, but are you?”
“I am unsure; only the fates can know,” he answered. “Beasts have not fallen to my hooves, nor warriors to my blade. My life has never known war, and this is a fight many stallions would fall to.”
“Yet you would bring it upon yourself?” Aries questioned.
The pony looked down to where the mare walked. “If it is required of me, I will fight until my days end—not to win her heart, but to bring it to life. So that at each dawn, she would come to life anew, even more resplendent and admired.”
Aries craned his neck down to look at the mare. “Hmm. Your words have moved me, mortal. Many ponies have asked my stars for courage before they do battle, but few have inspired such things in me. Your conviction has earned you my aid. So long as your fight persists, my stars will support you.”
“Thank you, Honorable Warrior,” the stallion said while climbing down from Aries’ back onto the hilltop below, “but I worry it may not be enough.”
“Why is that?” the twins Gemini asked.
“She is unlike any other, beautiful and wise. While others around her have taken any lover to come their way, she has waited to pledge her life to a stallion who is worthy—one that the Creator themself would approve of.”
“We know your kind too well, fool,” one of the twins said through fits of laughter. “No mortal is so fickle about whom they lay with—she is deceiving you, for she takes no interest in you.”
“Perhaps it is your mishappened face or obnoxious voice,” the other twin jeered. “I certainly have listened to it long enough. I would not blame her for this deception.”
“If there is a deception,” the pony replied, “it is my own, not one of her creation.”
Capricorn the sea-goat drew nearer, to better see the stallion before her. “How is this so?”
“Keeper of the Sea, my lie is one that all lovers believe—that I might one day be worthy of her hoof.”
“That is a great lie, mortal!” Gemini’s raucous laughs shook the heavens, rattling the moon as a child does a toy. “What know you of worthiness, who sleeps on the ground and drinks the dirtied waters beneath the earth? It matters not if she is more enchanting than other maidens, in time, you will find she is no different.”
“Perhaps he is unworthy, Gemini, but I doubt he is as unworthy of her affections as you,” Capricorn retorted, silencing the twins. “Land-dweller, tell me, why would returning the stars draw her heart to you?”
“I doubt it will,” he answered. “My quest is not for the sake of victory in love. What I seek is for her soul. A beauty that could match her own, a guide that could lead her during the darkest nights, and a sign that none are fairer than her.”
“You would ask us to shine for her? For a single maiden? One who is so distant from you?” Capricorn asked.
“For whom would the stars shine, if not her? I am undeserving of your light—perhaps all of Equus is—but even if she spurns my protection and comfort, I ask that you return to watch over her.”
“You would have been wise to choose another love, mortal,” Gemini grumbled. “Many other daughters of the Great Mother walk this earth; you should leave now and choose one of them for your bride, while our patience still allows it. The last mortal to come before us never again saw the light of day.”
Lifting his head slowly, Leo snarled, “The last mortal came for very different reasons, and I will not allow you to harm this one, Gemini.”
“I agree,” Capricorn added. “This creature is unusual, and I would enjoy watching him and his lover. Another day, I may leave the skies, but so long as boats may carry her across the darkened oceans, I will guide her with my stars.”
The stallion bowed. “I am honored by your light, Capricorn.”
“Now, what of you, Gemini?” Capricorn asked.
“I care not,” Gemini scoffed. “Let some of the others make their judgments first and I will decide later.”
“Mmm, then I will speak,” Scorpio said, stepping toward the stallion.
“As will I.” Cancer’s voice echoed from behind Gemini, who stepped aside. “For I believe our questions are the same.”
“Yes, I suppose they are,” Scorpio replied, flicking his tail. “Mortal, we’ve heard of your love, but you have heard little of our curse. Why should your desire outweigh our plight?”
The stallion’s eyes fell, followed by his expression. “Please forgive me. Before tonight, I did not know you bore a curse, Fearsome Champion. Who afflicted this upon you?”
“The same One who formed you from the dust asked us to shine until the end of time, but we grow tired after millennia of never-ending toil,” Scorpio answered.
“To serve the Creator is no curse; servants in their infinite kingdom are greater than even the highest rulers of this realm. You would so willingly give up what they bestowed upon you?” the stallion asked, stunned.
“Says the mortal, who sacrificed perfect harmony over petty squabbles,” Cancer sneered. “Your kind’s actions betray you, child. We have not forgotten your fall, nor have we ceased to pay the debt you accrued.”
“Once,” Cancer continued, “we shined even more brilliantly in the sky, and your parents admired us every night as they lay together in harmony. Now, no sin has not been committed underneath our light. We bear witness to every evil deed you do in the dark, and we grow weary of the crimes you have wrought upon Equus.”
The stallion’s head fell further. “What you say is true. I am a stallion born of many sins. What I possess I do not deserve, and what I desire is not mine to have. Never has the Creator forsaken us, yet the same is not true of my kind. Forgive us for the iniquity we’ve bred; I am kin of an arrogant and immoral ilk.”
Scorpio pointed his claw in accusation at the pony before him. “You humble yourself before us, but you can do nothing to right these wrongs. I ask again, why should we give heed to your pleas?”
“If you wish it, I will spend every night thanking you for shining upon her.”
“Many mortals do the same as they drink themselves to sleep, and I grow tired listening to their prayers,” Scorpio whispered, intoned with the sadness of one who once knew paradise.
“If you would not hear my prayers, then I will offer them to the Creator, that they might honor and bless you for your loyalty to an unfaithful brood,” the stallion said, lifting his eyes to the Council of Heavens.
“Why should they listen to your prayers, if even we will not?” Cancer asked warily.
“Because I am theirs, and they are mine. They rescued me from death, cured my sickly heart, and called me unto them. I will go to the Creator and intercede on your behalf, so that you might know their goodness once more.”
“Child of Mortals,” Cancer replied, “the Creator has grown deaf to our cries. One more voice will not save us. Whatever you believe of them, this much we know to be true: they have left this world to your damnation. We exist now only to shine a spotlight upon your tragedy, but we will no longer wish to take part in this farcical production.”
Gripped by their oppressive hopelessness, the stallion struggled for words as he began again. “What beats behind my ribs is proof enough that my prayers will be heard. Perhaps… perhaps I cannot persuade you, but their promises remain. As they will it, all things will be made whole, just as they have made me whole.”
In silence, Scorpio and Cancer considered the stallion’s words. A deep sadness—a sorrow known only to the accursed—weighed upon them as they answered the stallion’s plea.
“If it is as you claim, then it is we who should beseech you,” Cancer replied, raising his eyes to the vast universe above. “It will be as you have requested of us.”
Scorpio lowered his claws and nodded slowly. “So long as our strength remains, the stars will shine upon you and your lover. Perhaps your atonement will one day reach us as well.”
“Yes,” Pisces agreed. “In honor of your actions, we will endure another day, mortal. You are righteous, for a pony. We pray that your words will be heard.”
“My words will not cease until they have been. You will be recognized for what you have done this night; my legacy will forever honor the position the Creator gave you,” the stallion said through stray tears.
Beside Aries, Taurus laid down and released a long, slow breath, blowing hot air onto the fields and hills below. “Aquarius, I see the Council of Heavens is shifting, yet my mind is not made up. What of you?”
“Yes, I am still curious,” Aquarius replied. “I know now why you wish to return the stars, and I know what kind of stallion you are, but I know nothing of this mare. What compels you to such devotion for her?”
“Some say foolishness, others immaturity or passion,” the stallion offered.
“And what…” Taurus’ words came slowly and with great consideration. “…do you believe?”
The stallion smiled. “Love.”
“You speak in circles, mortal. You love her because of love? Surely there is a poet in you somewhere that can offer us more than that,” Aquarius said, laughing. “Is there nothing better you can say of her?”
“There is not, but I will say this so you understand—in waking dreams I have seen her heart, a creation too much for the eyes of mortals to behold. Through hardship and pain it has continued beating to the rhythm of redemption. Its sounds reverberate in her laugh and escape through lips more tender than roses.
“The blood flowing through her veins carries life to her eyes, where I am lost when I draw too close. Only her voice can save me from their vast ocean of color. My heart follows the pace of her hoofsteps, faster and faster as she comes near, and I am reminded of the Creator’s goodness to allow me to meet such a mare.
“If our world is a fallen one, then she was formed from the remnants of paradise. The Creator themself sculpted her from the rarest materials and weaved her mane with heaven’s finest threads. Muscle and sinew can barely contain the life within her. Her mind leaves me outwitted, and her spirit finds me outmatched. She is not perfect, for she is something far greater: beloved.”
“I have heard enough,” Taurus said with a sigh. “You would do better to pester her with your prose, rather than imploring us to return the stars. However, I have no desire to listen any longer. I’ve spent many nights running across the starry fields, and I will spend many more doing so if you never again ascend your tower.”
Aquarius shook his head and agreed, “It is as Taurus says, mortal. Not even the waters I carry flow so strongly as the words from your mouth. I will pour out all that I have on the night skies, if only to fight against the pull of your current.”
“Magnificent Bull, Glorious Water-Bearer, you have my thanks,” the stallion replied.
“Your quest is not complete yet, foolish one. It seems Virgo has something on her mind,” Gemini said, turning to her. “Do you not?”
“You do not carry her fragrance,” Virgo mused as she leaned down to the stallion, frowning. “Nor does she carry yours.”
“She is far from me, as I have told you,” the stallion explained.
“My senses are not so limited, mortal. You hide that your distance is more than physical.”
“I’ve hidden nothing, but I will say what you desire to know,” the stallion retorted. “She has set herself apart for another.”
“An illicit love?” Gemini chuckled. “How very like a fallen creature.”
“No. I will not stoop to such lows, nor will I ask her to.”
“Then how do you explain yourself?” Virgo pressed.
“Is my love any less true if it’s unrequited? Are my actions any less honorable?” the stallion said, unmoved.
Virgo turned away and sighed before her intense gaze returned to the mortal before her. “And what of the other stallion? Is he any less worthy than you? Do you believe the Creator disapproves of their courtship?”
“I do not know,” the stallion answered. “Those are not decisions for a mortal to make. He is but a pony, like me, and I will not be his judge. If he could offer her happiness, then I would carry him on my back across the driest desert to bring her joy. But I was not born a prophet, and what anyone’s future holds is not for me to divine.”
“You risk much for something so uncertain,” Virgo said.
The Council of Heavens fell silent, along with the stallion before them. Even the crickets paused their song, for fear of what the next sound would bring.
“I risk only what I am willing to lose for her sake.”
Virgo stared down at the stallion, who refused to look away. “And what is that?”
“More than she will ever know.”
The two remained still, while the Council of Heavens remained in silence. Neither turned from the other—the stallion and Virgo, locked together in a solemn struggle of conviction and doubt.
“We will see,” Virgo finally spoke. “Tomorrow, you will both see my stars. What you do under them, and the consequences of your actions, will be of your own making.”
“And we too will be watching with Virgo, mortal. Do not forget what has been spoken here,” the twins Gemini added.
“I understand.”
The Council of Heavens observed the stallion with a newfound curiosity. His resolve had not wavered, and all but one now acquiesced to his wish: return the stars to the skies.
Leo turned to the last of the Council. “And what of you, Libra? You have yet to speak; it is unlike you.”
“Judgment is not always swift. Neither this stallion nor the mare he pursues has received my verdict, for it is undecided still.”
“Then you are deserving of your title, Wise Judge,” the stallion said with a weary chuckle. “You remind me of her; it is no wonder she was born near your stars.”
“We will see if you are both worthy of them, for justice favors no one.” Libra put forth her hand, softly jangling the metal chains connected to her weighing pans. “My scales do not rebalance themselves for the fleeting love of misguided souls. If you wish to avoid my judgment, you will leave now.”
“Your judgments are fair and just. I will not depart in fear of their ruling. If you find me lacking, then I will finally know my own foolishness.”
“And if I find her to be the one lacking?”
“Then…” The stallion’s words slowed as his tongue faltered and his countenance fell. “…I will love her still. As has been done for me, I will choose what is least deserved. I will choose love.”
“I see,” Libra said as she withdrew her hand. “The Council of Heavens is not your courtroom then, and I am not fit to be your judge. Time—and Time alone—may judge the course and consequences of your actions. However, whether to return my stars to the sky is a decision I alone will make. Tonight, you were uncertain. You asked us for whom our stars would shine.
“Have you found the answer to your question?” Libra asked.
“Yes,” the stallion replied.
“They would shine for the Beloved.”
“…And the one who would ask them to shine.”
The hoofwriting had grown shaky, and as Sunburst turned the page, he saw tearstains dotting the final five words.
“I miss you both dearly.”
Sunburst flipped through the rest of the tome, but excluding two empty clasps resting in the very back of the book, there were only blank pages.
“I hope you were able to read the hoofwriting,” Luna said, pulling Sunburst from his thoughts. “I’m aware most ponies now have difficulty reading such elegant cursive.”
Sunburst turned to Luna, who stood beside the window gazing out at the cloudy night sky. “No, no that’s—I mean, yes. I can read it. It’s… well, it’s beautiful.” He turned again to the tome laying in front of him and sighed.
The story’s words lingered in his mind, as they must have in the author’s mind as well. With each page, intrigue and suspense mixed with a growing grief that could only be seen through the author’s quill. The completed work left him with a wonderous tale, but also a somber question.
“Pardon me, Princess, but I’m still not sure I understand. You said this isn’t in the historical record, but I’ve never seen this stallion mentioned in myths or legends, either. What… what is this, exactly?”
“When you are as long-lived as my sister or I, history is what you wish others to remember,” Luna replied. “What most would call ‘myth’ is what we would rather see them forget. This is one of those things.”
“So the stars did disappear? And this stallion, he was real?” Luna gave a slight nod as Sunburst continued, “And that’s when the stars returned, after he met with them?”
“Yes.” Clouds passed by, hiding some stars and revealing others. Luna hardly moved, but her eyes roamed over each of the constellations peeking through. “Both my sister and I were unaware of this at the time, though.”
“But… now you know. What happened?”
A colorful piece of paper floated out of Luna’s saddlebags. Dragging a pillow to herself, Luna sat down near the window as if haunted by what would come next. The paper came to rest delicately in her hooves, and a moment passed while she looked at the aged parchment—a painting marred by time, faded hues, and sorrow.
“Two years after my imprisonment, my sister found a simple gravestone beside Mount Canterhorn—what’s now known as the mountain Canterlot rests on. The epitaph didn’t have a name, just the words ‘For Whom the Stars Shine.’ There was a small village nearby, so Celestia asked them about the headstone. Most didn’t say much, only that she needed to speak with the town’s new carpenter—an earth pony. Once he told her who the memorial was for and presented her with a blank journal, she finally recognized him.”
Luna levitated the painting to Sunburst as she continued. “His name was Blue Solis.”
A fitting name. When he took the paper in his magic, Sunburst saw a stallion with brilliant blue eyes, complemented by a muted yellow coat and soft orange mane. His gentle features matched the white toga comfortably wrapped around his barrel, and unlike many portraits of that period, he seemed perfectly at ease. All that set him apart from a common citizen was the single adornment on his clothing: a large, golden brooch shaped like the sun.
Sunburst brought the painting closer as he stared at the familiar shape. “That emblem, isn’t it a royal crest?”
“It was, when the House of the Sun still stood, before the Castle of the Two Sisters was abandoned. After the Nightmare, Celestia united the sun and moon in one crest. Before, many servants and officials wore one emblem or the other to signify their authority or loyalty to a particular house.”
“And Blue Solis, what was his reason?”
“Loyalty,” Luna replied quietly. “He was an attendant for my sister, but he would have worn both crests if he could have. Other than Star Swirl and the Pillars, I doubt there was a stallion more dedicated to my sister and I. In those days, few had confidence in our leadership—our magic brought the nobles much more assurance. We stood not as mares to have faith in, but as weapons to deter other nations. Swords and cannons require maintenance, but not friendship. Alicorns are not the same, yet we were often treated no differently.”
Luna sat wordlessly, as though something still lingered. For a moment, Sunburst considered asking her more, but a distance grew in her eyes as each second passed. She sat now in a different place, a different time, with a different pony.
“One day, Celestia needed a model for her painting. Never ignoring a chance to annoy her favorite sister, she asked me immediately, of course. About an hour after she started, a new attendant came by to ask if she needed anything, as was his duty. Celestia decided that his daily duties also included providing us with company. For some time, he simply stood silently beside my sister as she painted. Eventually, he leaned around the easel and said, ‘Your Highness, her flanks truly are a magnificent sight, but do you really think they’re that fat?’”
Sunburst didn’t say a word. Quickly, uncontrollably, his cheeks turned a shade of crimson that most ponies would mistake for internal bleeding.
“You do a good impression, Sunburst, but Celestia’s cheeks were even darker red.” Luna giggled softly. “She set the canvas ablaze before I could judge for myself. That is how Blue Solis introduced himself to me.”
“And nearly got banished from the castle, I imagine,” Sunburst said as he tried to hide his embarrassment.
“He was kept far from important figures, afterwards,” Luna replied, a small grin stretching across her muzzle. “Still, he became a great friend, to both of us. It’s likely his fault that my sister and I so enjoy prank wars. Long after Celestia went to bed, we would plot the grandest gags. In truth, I do not know when he slept. I imagine it was when he should have been serving my sister.”
“Not exactly what I was expecting when I heard about a stallion who returned the stars.”
“No.” Luna’s smile dipped. “Nor I.”
“But Equestria’s darkest night was not the first time I heard the Nightmare’s call. Many years passed as my jealousy grew—more than once, I nearly gave in. Blue Solis’ devotion kept me from a great number of mistakes on countless cold, lonely nights. We spent them together quite often, side by side on the balcony overlooking a young Equestria. Only once I returned did I discover that he was the stallion who brought the stars back. His departure shortly before my marriage to General Flinthoof was saddening, nonetheless.”
“Huh, I didn’t know you—”
It finally clicked, and the world seemed to stop.
“Blue Solis was the name of the stallion,” Sunburst said slowly. “And the mare’s name… was Luna.”
She nodded silently.
“The memorial. For whom the stars shine. It’s you.”
“Yes,” Luna replied. “Fate would not have it, but Blue loved me as much as any stallion ever has.”
“I don’t understand. If you knew, why—”
“Destiny,” Luna said, cutting him off. “Blue Solis was an attendant, not a ruler. Not a noble. For his many faults, General Flinthoof still proved a trustworthy partner and a valuable ally; our marriage was not a mistake.”
“Then… why has nopony heard about this? About him?
Luna sighed. “My surrender to Nightmare Moon brought many changes to Equestria. Just as the failed changeling invasion left us with fear and suspicion, so too did my insurrection leave Equestria with distrust and hatred. My soldiers were imprisoned, my servants despised, my friends and allies reviled, my husband lynched. Had ponies known Blue Solis’ relation with me, I doubt they would have been much kinder.
“Despite my marriage with Flinthoof, it would be untruthful to say I never wonder which stallion truly loved me more. However, Blue knew he had to step aside once I accepted the general’s proposal, but feared my growing darkness.” Turning to Sunburst, Luna delicately tugged the portrait with her magic and he released it from his grasp. “That was when he began seeking the journal.”
“I can feel enchantments on it, but isn’t this just a normal journal?” Sunburst asked, running a hoof over the worn cover. “He was an earth pony, so I assumed Celestia added them.”
“She added the preservation and protection charms, yes. Making falsehoods written in ink disappear, though, is not something my sister is capable of. Blue Solis travelled to the edges of Equus to find somepony with that skill. Only truth can exist on these pages; everything else fades away the moment it appears. If honesty and kindness could not reconcile the rulers of Equestria, all hope was lost—or so Blue Solis believed. Yet, I fear it mattered little. When his journey concluded, he returned with a journal meant for two sisters—but to an Equestria with only one.”
“Is that why he stayed in the village?”
“Partly,” Luna replied. “In truth, he also needed to hide his identity, and the villagers were willing to keep his secret. It took a great deal of pleading before Blue Solis repeated the story so Celestia could write it down in the journal.”
Pausing, Luna briefly let a giggle break her somber demeanor.
“What?” Sunburst asked.
Luna shook her head and replied, “It seems prideful, but my sister only convinced Blue after pledging to move Equestria’s capitol to Mount Canterhorn in my honor.”
“The place closest to the moon and stars.” Sunburst said. “Closest to you.”
“Yes. He was an incorrigible romantic, and far too clever for his own good.” A mischievous sparkle danced at the edges of her eyes. “Harmony’s imbalance made the Everfree unsuitable for anything, let alone her castle. Celestia knew she would have to move Equestria’s capitol, as did Blue Solis.”
“And that’s when he took advantage of a grieving princess,” Sunburst said with a smirk.
“And offered me the most beautiful, heartfelt gesture I’ve ever known,” Luna replied, smiling even as tears threatened to cloud her view. “Of course, my sister was simply happy somepony missed me nearly as much as she did. With so many looking to twist the situation to their own ends, Celestia could call him one of the few friends she had during those first decades.
“After Blue Solis’ death, my sister also aided his family by concealing their heritage and ensuring they would be taken care of. His name as well as theirs were stricken from all records. Then, they were discreetly raised into nobility and given a place in her new city. So, Canterlot and House Blueblood were formed on the same day.”
“But the records and birth certificates, Bluebloods can trace their heritage directly back to Celestia. Their family tree is displayed in the Royal History Museum, how—”
“Fabrications,” Luna interrupted. “Too many ponies knew Blue Solis. I doubt he would have agreed to the plan, regardless, but Celestia’s deception couldn’t make him a royal. The arrangement depended on ponies accepting an unusual and unexpected lie, supported only by forged documents and rumors of Celestia’s alleged escapades as a younger mare.”
Stunned by it all, Sunburst leaned against the table and let his thoughts stir. He flipped to the journal’s beginning once more and again noticed the large cursive letters flowing over its first page. Blue Solis’ writing was unmistakable now; this was the pony who bent the heavens’ ears. Forgotten by history, but not by the mare he loved or her sister.
“To answer your question, Sunburst, nopony has heard about this—about him—because I do not wish to disgrace his memory. Despite my unworthiness, despite the affection I could never return to him, his love has burned brightly for over a thousand years. His legacy is the night sky, not this story he and I share.”
Rising, Luna walked over to the table and slid the journal towards her while Sunburst watched quietly. After reattaching the portrait, she returned to the bookshelf and took one last look at the worn journal in her hooves. “The lineage of Blue Solis, to my great shame and everlasting gratefulness, lives on. His children can still see the stars he persuaded all those years ago. That is enough.”
Sunburst struggled to say anything in reply; words couldn’t describe the conflicting emotions swirling in his heart. Finally, he tried to say something, but all he could manage was a whisper. “Forgive me, Princess, but that doesn’t seem like the legacy he would have wanted.”
“Perhaps,” Luna answered listlessly, focused on the book gripped in her hooves. “But he was a foolish stallion who loved me too deeply. A reputed but detested family, a sky filled with distant lights, and an exiled princess—I doubt he knew his romance was in truth a tragedy.”
Turning, Luna stared solemnly at the stallion in front of her. “As I said, some stories are best told to none.”
“Is that what Blue believed?”
The question surprised even him, although he’d been the one to ask it. Luna’s back straightened at the unspoken accusation and left Sunburst running a hoof through his mane, trying to straighten out his thoughts.
“He wanted to let all Equestria know how amazing you are, how beautiful your night is, how much he loved you—even if they never knew who ‘he’ was,” Sunburst said. “And that’s what Blue Solis did. Every night for a thousand years, the stars kept his hope alive. Now, you’ve returned as a beloved princess, finally recognized and admired for the beauty you bring each night.”
Exhausted, Sunburst bowed his head before continuing. “Shouldn’t that be his legacy?”
Tears—both old and new—rolled down Luna’s cheeks, pouring softly from her eyes. “I fear history decides our fate after our choices have already been made. If I had embraced him in life, perhaps in death the legacy worthy of him would not be lost. Instead, replaced with my tragedy and his folly.”
“Isn’t that better than this?” Sunburst said, gesturing to the book in Luna’s hooves. “A story nopony knows, about a stallion no one remembers.”
“I do not know. The stars alone could answer, but they remain silent.”
Luna looked to the bookshelf and slowly picked up the note she left earlier. She wiped her tears and stared at each word of the note, looking back to the journal before peering at the note again.
Hesitantly, she tucked the journal in her saddlebags and retrieved a pencil. Beginning to write again, she whispered, “Maybe it is not for us to decide. And if so, then I must accept Blue Solis’ life for what it was...”
Gently, Luna set the note down. The bookshelf’s enchantment reactivated instantly, hiding the piece of paper from Sunburst’s senses.
“…And allow my subjects to do the same,” Luna said, walking to the end of the bookshelves. Before she rounded the corner, she turned back one final time. “Good night, Sunburst.”
“Good night, Your Highness.”
Left alone in the library, Sunburst looked at the mare still sleeping peacefully next to him. His tired heart soothed as he felt Starlight’s warm fur and calm breaths press into his side. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift away.
One day, either of them might know the tragedy of love—when fate’s cruel grip separates us. But in this moment, however short or long it would be, he was with the mare he loved.
And being together is enough.
As the morning brought new light to Equestria, Celestia looked down at the note in her hoof. A book was missing from the library—not that anypony would notice. One-of-a-kind books tend to be easily forgotten. After all, it was an old piece of literature; few ever noticed it unless they were specifically looking for it.
Coincidentally, it appeared that somepony had been looking for it recently, which is why it was missing. However, it seemed they didn’t intend to return the book. The thief had hastily scribbled the note’s first few lines, but the next lines developed a regal cursive as the tone changed.
“Ms. Inkwell, please send a message to those wonderful sculptors from Fillydelphia—the ones we hired a few years ago for our gift to the Hippogriffs.”
Raven Inkwell paused, schedule still in hoof as she snapped back to reality. “Of course, Your Majesty, but I wasn’t aware we’d need their services again so soon. Is there a project you had in mind?
Celestia lowered the note as a wistful smile crept over her muzzle. “I believe it’s time we commissioned a new memorial.”
Your intentions may be good, but your coercion is not appreciated, Sister. I have no desire to be further haunted by these events. Leaving the journal here was a mistake.
I'll speak with the royal archivists about amending our historical records, then request Kibbitz reach out to your publishing contacts. House Blueblood may object to exposing this information, so I request you deal with them, because I believe their objections should go straight to Tartarus.
Equestria can think what it will of Blue Solis—I know what kind of stallion he was. Perhaps it's time others did as well.
Sincerely,
—For Whom the Stars Shine
