In the days before Arnon's establishment as the Royal Advisor, merely Twilight Sparkles strange, alien friend.

Arnon E. Morse | Canterlot Castle's Halls

Accompanying her on her most recent trip to Canterlot, and disinterested in spending another four hours reading by the fireplace in the Royal Study with a particular purple pony, Arnon wanders the Castle's Halls.

The slick stonework, tapestries and delicately worn carpets always impressed, reminding him of the Castles of his own home, during their prime. He saw a pretty one in Scotland, during a school trip; though seeing one active, during it's prime time, is far different than many years later. Even in the evening light, the soft orange light highlighted the intricate works that lined the walls. The busts of various Ponies, the tapestries depicting long-ago events...

Arnon pauses, pursing his lips. Thought he heard something, there. Was it just the wind? Or a distant conversation?

He's quiet a moment, listening. It's a long moment before he hears it again.

Sounds like... sniffling. Is someone crying?

He glances around... nobody around him. No guards, no staff. Quietly, neck craned, he traces the sound; it's so quiet, he's careful not to step louder than the sound itself.

It takes him deeper into the castle, down one of the dedicated wings; where a large, sun-like emblem lays emblazoned on the floor, breaking up the stonework, the carpets carefully shifting around it.

It's getting closer... a large set of double doors, ever so slightly cracked, seem to be the source. Arnon stops beside it, holding his ear to the opening, hands clasped behind his back.

"...How can you forgive me, Luna... for all I have taken from you...for when I am at fault?"

An unfamiliar voice. Well, the polite thing to do, would have been not to eavesdrop. A little late for that. Instead, he raises a fist, and quietly knocks on the door.

The sniffling stops instantly. Then, a throat-clear.

"I asked not to be disturbed." The voice calls out -- it's trying to sound firm and authoratative, but it wavers.

"Sorry; I was passing by and heard... you. Is everything alright?" Arnon asks aloud to the mystery pony.

"...Who are you?" He hears back, less assured.

"Arnon E. Morse, Twilight's friend. I'm visiting the castle with her." He responds.

"...Is she there?" The voice asks quietly.

"No, just me." Arnon affirms softly.

There's a long silence, punctuated by another throat-clear.

"...You may come in." They relent after a hefty pause.

Slowly, Arnon pushes the one of the two large, sturdy double doors open, stepping inside.

Oh, man, this is one elaborate room. A... bedroom. Massive, ornate and comfy looking bed sits smack in the center, absolutely smashed with pillows and blankets. There's a heavy white and gold theme, across the floor, the various benches and furnishings; there's a door that leads somewhere, and a balcony, with it's doors open, revealing some of the evening sky.

The rest is covered by its occupant.

...The Princess of the Sun.

Arnon E. Morse, Princess Celestia | Celestia's Bedroom

Wow. That, uh... wasn't a voice he expected to put a face to. A little intimidating, being near his size. Well, in a little deep now, Arnon. He shuts the door gently behind himself, nodding politely.
"Is everything alright?" He asks.

"...Of course." She nods.

He audibly tsks.
"I get having a good, emotion-resetting cry now and then... but I'm not sure that's what this is."

She blinks, looking at him with confusion.
"Apologies. I had not expected anypony to see me like this." She sniffles, quickly wiping her tears with her wings.

"Good thing I'm no Pony, then. I'm an anybody." Arnon smiles playfully, catching the Princess by surprise. "Don't mind me, your Highness; emotions are natural, be it mortal or immortal. No judgement here, just a friendly concern."

"That is kind of you to state... but it helps little, I am afraid." She sighs, looking back to the evening sky.

"Why don't you tell me, then? Perhaps I'll understand more than you think." He offers.

"Forgive me if this is... rude, Mister Morse. But how could you possibly understand the feelings that ail me? You are Mortal. Finite. And... not a Pony."

"Sure, I'm not Pony. But Humanity is not finite, nor is it mortal." Arnon waggles a knowing finger. This gets a confused head-tilt from the Princess. "Well, I'm mortal, but -- may I borrow your ear for a moment?"

She slowly sits on her haunches, nodding as Arnon crosses the room, joining her on the balcony overlooking the elaborate garden, the sun slowly dipping below the horizon. The light casts long shadows over the hedges and flowerbeds, the fountain water twinkling.

"Humans may be mortal... but understanding goes beyond the individual. Have you heard of my kind before?" He starts. The Princess shakes her head.

"I'm a Human. A member of the sole sapient species on our planet, who rose from caves and sticks, to a fledgling grasp of the stars. Humanities greatest gift was not our opposable thumbs, as amazing as they are." He grins, holding one of his hands out. Celestia is hesitant a moment, but his sheer friendliness piques her curiosity. She leans closer, inspecting it curiously.

"It was our imagination. Our desire for fantasy, for things beyond what we could do now. We would write stories and songs, legends and tales of history, and of dreams; of things we wanted to be true, and things that were. It turned a flightless species into one that could soar -- from Hunters and Gatherers, to Farmers and Workers. It gave birth to a myriad of literature, culture and religion, all which grace and embolden the world that I left behind even to this day. And, the greatest accomplishment from that imagination? A mass system of connections that allowed nearly any human, across the entire planet, to access an ever-expanding vault of creativity and storage, tools and communities. Our entire world history, readily available and searchable. Any tool, and craft, easily learnt from anywhere. That, was our greatest culmination." Arnon explains, staring wistfully up to the Moon, the Stars. Space.

"I... don't mean to offend, but I did hear you mention your Sister, Luna." Arnon comments. He'd heard the story from Twilight, as unbelievable as it sounded.
Celestia, after a short pause, simply nods, and Arnon continues. "Did you know we've been to the moon as well? The long way?"

"...The long way?" Celestia questions quietly, her emotions starting to be subdued by her sheer curiosity of the topics Arnon speaks of.

"We don't have magic. So... we built rockets. Big, metal machines forged in factories and furnaces that spew the remains of dinosaurs, the entire thing calculated to minute decimal points by our greatest scientists. All so we could take a man, put him in a suit to let him breathe in space, put him in a rocket so he could reach space, and drop him on the moon. Every single one of those steps, each of those processes... generations of combined work. Just to say we did it, and to say who got to it first; humans are naturally competitive, just as they are cooperative, and several nations participated in this 'Space Race'." Arnon continues, before smiling at the Princess, and her wide-eyed and ever-curious stare.

"A race to reach the Moon? Who won?" She asks quickly, not missing a beat.

"America, a Western Nation, reached the Moon itself first, and planted their flag. But notably, Russia, an Eastern Nation, reached space first." He explains; the merit of the message wouldn't really be served if he simply bounced around and shouted how America won.

"I... see. How long was he left there?" She asks, casting her teary-eyed gaze to their own moon, here on Equus.

"About a week, I think? Then they headed home. That happened roughly... in the last hundred years for my people. And do you know where the first idea behinds rockets started?" He's hardly asking at this point, just trying to keep her engaged. She shakes her head, staring at him expectantly. She seems surprised he wasn't stranded, that he simply... came back on the same rocket.

"Nearly two thousand years ago, in an entirely different nation called China, there they created Fireworks. Without those, we would never have seen the stars, all caused by chain reactions of inventions, new ideas, new dreams, passed on to the next generation; passing the torch. So... maybe give me a little leeway, in that I might be able to understand what causes you sorrow?" He surmises, smiling softly at the big, white pony.

She snorts softly, rubbing her snout with a hoof.
"...There are few who would claim to match my knowledge. Very well, Mister Morse --"

"Please, just Arnon. I like to keep things casual." He butts in, grinning. It's a bold play for Royalty... but intruding on her private cry session hardly spoke the norm.

...She can't help but find a small smile nestling its way onto her own face.
"Very well, Arnon.

The Princess sighs, taking a slow, deep breath.
"I... have ruled these lands, for a thousand years and some. Roughly more than a year ago, my Sister, Princess Luna, returned to us. Originally, in our previously shared rule, she... became jealous of the attention the Day garnered, and I failed to realize just how deeply it upset her, that she didn't find similar for her Night. She revolted, spurred by jealousy... and I was forced to utilize the Elements of Harmony, to lock her away, on the Moon. For a thousand years."

"The... Nightmares, were messing with her mind, right?" Arnon questions.

Celestia looks at him, curious, nodding.

"Twilight. You learn a lot second-hand just by being near her." He shrugs.

Another weak smile takes Celestia's face. She slowly looks back to the Moon, wistfully.
"...Yes, they preyed on her emotions. When she returned, she did so as Nightmare Moon. The Elements, Twilight and her friends, rebuffed them, but..."

She shudders, sighing.
"...I robbed Luna of a thousand years, because of my inaction. Because of my inability to stop her, because of my failure to be a better sister. Now... she is in an unfamiliar time, and is trying to find her place in a Kingdom that has survived for... far longer than I have even known my own Sister. Do you know how terrible that is, Arnon?"

She looks to him, fresh tears staining her reddened eyes.
"I've ruled the Kingdom that bore her jealousy for ten of my little ponies lifetimes longer than I've even known her. I... I can only remember so much about her, Arnon. I am a terrible Sister; she looks at me with warmth, with forgiveness... I cannot even remember her Birthday, Arnon. I have been racking my brain about it for weeks."

Her words are heavy, laden with sobs and shudders.

Big, big feelings, for one of the bigger ponies. Arnon steps forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her head to his chest. His hands slowly stroke her neck, holding her close. For the moment, there's no words he can offer. Only a warmth, a kindness denied to an upset Princess of a thousand years.

A hug.

She openly sobs into his shirt for a long time, leaning against him in this moment of vulnerability. A stranger, who cradles her at her worst, offering only warm whispers and a tight, gentle hold.

It's only once her sobs begin to slow, and return to sniffles, that Arnon speaks.
"...You haven't had a proper hug in a while, have you? If I'm allowed to make a bold assessment." Arnon asks softly.

He feels her shake her head against her chest. Probably not too many Ponies lining up to boldly declare they'd like to hug their god-ruler.

"I can't offer advice for a situation I wasn't there for; but with how deeply you care, I'm sure you did what you thought was best at the time. Even if you still regret -- you've your sister back. If she's forgiven you already... perhaps you should listen to her, and forgive yourself, too. It's a rare chance to regain a lost loved one. Explain everything to her. How much you care, how much it hurts you, how badly you want to get to know her again, how these thousand years felt without her. If she is the same sister you love and hold so dearly, she'll want to speak of the same. And even if she isn't... then it's a sister you have the rare chance to get to know, anew. She went through this too, in her own way. You're not alone in this; I'm sure she has things she'd love to say to you, too, but just doesn't know how to approach it." Arnon explains softly, running his fingers through her northern-lights style mane.

"It's... I shouldn't feel like this, Arnon. I am the Princess of the Sun, Ruler of Equestria." She retorts quietly, into his well-wetted shirt.

"Diarchal Ruler, now, Princess. And your station or not -- you're just as much a Pony as the Ponies outside this Castle. Don't deny yourself what every Pony in this land deserves, just because you're a combo meal of wings and horn." Arnon jests. "You guys are all about... harmony, and feelings and stuff, right? Kind of defeats the point if you aren't participating, either."

Another long silence.

Slowly, she pulls herself from his hug, Arnon letting go.

She is... silent. Contemplative.

"...May I trust on your silence regarding what has been spoken tonight?" She finally, quietly, asks.

"Sure. I... went for a walk in the garden and fell in the fountain." Arnon grins.

Celestia now notices just how many tears she shed on his shirt, glancing away. A soft snicker.

"...Thank you, Arnon. You're the first in a long time that I... have been able to speak of my worries to." Celestia says. She's starting to recollect some of her regal stature, standing taller, standing prouder.

"Hey, anytime you need me, you know where to find me. Probably bumming it at Twilight's, still." Arnon shrugs. "Want me to get out of here? You look like you've got some moves to make."

"Perhaps I will accept that offer. Thank you again, Arnon. You are... a friend, in these courts." She bows her head.

"Sick." Arnon bows back.

"Hmm?"

"Oh -- wicked."

"...I don't follow."

"Sorry, Human lingo. Sounds good, Tia. Er--Celestia. Princess Celestia." Arnon corrects.

"...No, I'm alright with you calling me Tia. There are few willing to offer to nickname a Princess." She smiles. It's the biggest, most genuine smile he's seen from her all night.

...In this evening glow, the orange light highlighting her fur, her mane slowly wisping in the air... she's real pretty.

"If you'll excuse me, I believe I can catch Luna before she takes to her nightly duties. I trust you'll find your way out?"

Arnon, pulled from his thoughts simply thumbs-up, starting to walk back to the door.

Tia coughs softly.

He pauses, turning.
"Sorry, Human thing. Sure thing, Tia."

Another, smaller, soft smile.

...Yeah, really pretty.

Author's Note