The Conjuration Wizard

A few days had passed since... everything.

Days spent adrift in a haze of dreamless slumber and bedrest, as per the doctor’s orders.

I tried not to dwell on it — the shattered fragments of my life, the choices I’d made, and the consequences they had wrought. But ignoring it was impossible. I had placed myself into the role of being the one to free Chrysalis’ swarm from their petrification. That, and the absence of my right arm and eye, the memory of Aldin’s final moments, and the unbearable knowledge that I had died and been resurrected in a manner that would haunt me for the remainder of my days.

And Luna... I still hadn’t told her. Not the full story. Not about Chrysalis taking her shape. Not about Promise, the very symbol of our love, being used to end my life.

I lied to myself, pretending I was too busy to confront the truth. I clung to the excuse that I needed to finish the designs, that it demanded my full attention. But the guilt of my deception gnawed at me.

I hated liars. And I hated being one.

Morning arrived quietly. The dawn’s light seeped into Luna’s chambers, greatly muffled by the heavy curtains that hung before the tall windows. Golden hues danced faintly along the edges of the room, illuminating the rich blues and silvers of her bedchambers. The low crackle of the fireplace offered a soothing backdrop, filling the air with gentle warmth.

I sat hunched at a desk near the window, the golden light spilling over scattered papers and an inkwell on the surface. The quill in my hand scratched softly against parchment, the sound somehow rhythmic and grating simultaneously. This was the first time I had enough energy to do more than simply eat and sleep. I had been at this all night while Luna was away dealing with the aftermath of the attempted invasion.

Drawing the designs for the platform were maddening. The intricate lines and exacting angles felt impossible to replicate with my left hand. The quill, once an extension of my will and arcane prowess, now felt awkward and alien in my grasp. My strokes wavered and faltered, betraying my frustration with every clumsy movement.

The faint scent of parchment and ink mingled with the fire’s warmth, wrapping the room in a fragile serenity that mocked the storm of emotions inside me. I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening around the quill as I forced myself to keep going. Each flawed line on the page mirrored the growing sense of inadequacy that clawed at my chest.

I was trying.
But it wasn’t enough.

Not enough to finish the designs.
Not enough to silence the memories.
And certainly not enough to face her.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fumbled the nib along the paper, my lines were crooked and unsteady. I clenched my jaw, I refused to let frustration overwhelm me. This has to work. The platform needed to be perfect — then everything would be okay. I could prove to myself that I could still do this. I could move on from the memories. I could face her.

My right arm — or what was left of it — hung heavily and useless against my side. The phantom sensations were the worst: an itch I couldn’t scratch, a twitch of fingers that no longer existed. The sealed wound at the elbow throbbed faintly, and it was complimented with the ache of my missing right eye. The limited depth perception made drawing feel like a battle, every terrible stroke of the quill a new challenge to overcome.

I glanced down at the parchment and scowled.

The design was a mess — half-formed symbols to represent the necessary parameters for the placement of the Break Enchantment spell, horribly misaligned runes, and uneven dimensions for the platform itself. Not nearly good enough. I crumpled the sheet in my hand and threw it toward the fireplace, watching it fall short and land in a heap on the floor.

The discarded pile of failed attempts beside the desk was growing larger by the minute. A monument to my mounting shortcomings.

With a heavy sigh, I dipped the quill into the inkwell again and started over. My hand trembled as I tried to focus on the first line. The quill dragged unevenly, and a blob of ink spilled onto the parchment. Frustration burned within me, a growl rumbling in the back of my throat.

I slammed the quill down onto the desk, splattering ink across the wood and my sleeve. The noise echoed louder than I’d intended in the quiet room. I returned the quill to the inkwell as I leaned back in the chair, running my hand over my scarred face.

Just then, the door to the chambers opened with a soft creak that barely registered over my ragged breathing and the crackling of the fire. I didn’t look up. I assumed it was a servant or a guard checking in to make sure I didn’t find a way to maim myself further.

“Sebastian,” Luna’s voice was calm but carried an inflection to it that made my chest tighten.

I froze, my hand still covering my face, and felt her presence as she stepped closer. The nearly silent whispers of her silver shoes against the floor reached my ears as she crossed the room. She stopped just behind me, her warmth enveloping me without the need of touch.

“You should be resting,” she said gently with an undercurrent of concern.

I finally dropped my hand and looked over my shoulder. Luna had made it a habit to interact with me from my left side, my good side. She looked regal, another session of Night Court must’ve just concluded then. Her expression was soft, her gaze fixed on me with a mix of worry and something I couldn’t quite place. Was it pity? No… Luna would never pity me.

“I can’t rest,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “There’s too much to do. If I can’t…” I gestured to the pile of crumpled parchment, my words faltering.

Her gaze flicked to the pile, then back to me. She stepped closer, her wing brushing against my shoulder. “You’ve been through enough. No one expects you to do everything immediately.”

I turned back to the desk, gripping the edge tightly. “I need this to work. For them.”

Her silence told me that she understood. The changelings might have been my enemies once, and I definitely would not call them ‘friends’ or even ‘allies,’ but the Geas bound me as much as it bound Chrysalis. If I did not follow through, if I did not try then the Geas would be undone.

Chrysalis would be freed.

Free to do as she wished without constraint.

I can’t let that happen.

The quill wobbled in the inkwell as I reached for it again, my hand shaking. My fingers barely brushed the shaft before it tipped over, sending ink pooling across the desk and seeping into the fresh parchment.

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. “Dammit,” I hissed, slamming my fist against the desk.

“Sebastian.” Luna’s voice was firmer now, and she moved beside me, her wing folding over my shoulder as she gently turned me toward her.

I couldn’t meet her gaze, the sting of frustration and failure and shame burning behind my remaining eye. My head dropped, and my hand clenched into a fist against my thigh.

“I can’t even—” I choked on the words. “I can’t even do this right.”

She reached out, her hoof brushing against my scarred cheek as she tilted my head upward. “You’re trying,” she said softly. “That’s more than enough right now.”

Her touch lingered for a moment, gentle and steady, as though her touch alone would prevent me from spiraling further. She was right. I swallowed hard, blinking back the moisture threatening to spill over. Luna had a way of seeing straight through me, past the scars and the anger, down to the ache I tried so desperately to bury.

It was infuriating. I loved her for it.

"I…" My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "I'm sorry. For being like this."

She tilted her head, her mane shimmering faintly in the light filtering through the curtains. "Like what?"

I gestured vaguely at the desk, the ink-stained mess of parchment, and my slumped posture. "This. Moody. Useless. I'm not handling this well, and you're…" I trailed off, unable to finish.

Her expression softened, a flicker of something like sadness crossing her face. "You’ve lost much, Sebastian. It’s natural to feel what you’re feeling."

I wanted to argue, to tell her I didn’t have the right to wallow in my feelings when there were others that didn’t get to come back, that I hadn’t told her everything. But the words caught in my throat.

Luna’s gaze shifted past me, and for the first time I noticed the faint smell of cinnamon in the air. She stepped back, her wing brushing against my shoulder as she turned toward the bed.

“Come,” she said, her tone carrying just enough authority to make it clear that this wasn't a request. “You’ve worked enough.”

It was only then that I noticed the tray sitting on her bed, a modest breakfast for two laid out with meticulous care. The sight of it — two bowls of oatmeal, slices of toast, and an apple — was almost comical in its simplicity. Yet the effort she had put into it, the thoughtfulness behind even something so small, made my chest tighten further.

I paused, awkward and unsure, before summoning the will to follow her. Every motion felt alien, my balance skewed without my right arm and without my right eye my depth perception was distorted. Luna didn’t so much as look away or shift impatiently — she simply waited, her calm patience soothing some of my unease. When I reached her side, I sank down to her right on the edge of the bed, acutely aware of the gap between her graceful stillness and my clumsy approach.

She held the tray in her aura, and brought it closer. The apple caught my eye immediately, its skin was completely removed, leaving behind only the smooth fruit. My mouth opened slightly, and for a moment I just stared.

“You hate the skin,” Luna said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The realization hit me. She’d remembered. Out of everything happening — the chaos of rebuilding, the aftermath of the invasion alongside all of her duties — she had taken the time to remember something so small, so insignificant, just to make things a little easier for me.

The knot in my throat returned with a vengeance, and this time I couldn’t fight it. Tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them.

“Sebastian?” Her voice was soft, concerned, but I couldn’t look at her. I pressed my remaining hand to my face, trying to smother the sob that escaped.

“Sorry,” I managed to choke out. “I don’t… I don’t know why this is—”

“Shh,” she said gently, scooching closer to me. Her wing curled around my back, pulling me close.

The warmth of her presence, the steady rhythm of her breathing, was more than I could handle. The tears came harder, and I leaned into her without thinking, burying my face against her neck.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, her voice a soothing hum. “Let it out.”

I didn’t deserve this kindness, this patience. I didn’t deserve her. Yet she held me as though none of that mattered.

Minutes passed — maybe more — before the sobs finally subsided. My breathing slowed, and I pulled back slightly, wiping at my face with my sleeve.

Luna’s gaze met mine, calm and steady, with no trace of judgment or pity. “Do you feel better?”

I nodded, though the lump in my throat hadn’t entirely faded. “A little.”

“Good.” She nudged the tray closer with her magic, her tone turning slightly teasing. “Eat, before it gets cold. I’ll not have you wasting my efforts.”

A shaky laugh escaped me, and I nodded again, picking up the spoon she’d thoughtfully placed on the tray. The cinnamon warmth of the oatmeal settled in my chest, soothing yet heavy, as if the comfort of it lifted some of the weight of everything I had been holding back. Luna had made this for me — every detail deliberate, from the toast's perfect golden edges to the skinned apple waiting on the tray. Her care was in every morsel, each a quiet proclamation of her love and affection.

And here I sat upon her bed, eating, breathing, truly alive because of her.

Yet my mind refused to stay in the present. It wandered back to the cold emptiness of death, and the sensation of Chrysalis tearing through my soul to feast on my love for Luna as if it were nothing but simple fuel for her twisted hunger. The memory clawed at me, vivid and unrelenting. I glanced at Luna, who was carefully chewing her toast, her eyes occasionally flicking to me with a warmth that chased some of the shadows away. She didn’t know the finer details of my death, just that I had died.

The guilt sat heavy in my stomach, far heavier than the oatmeal. I was keeping this from her. The truth of what had happened, of how the symbol of our love had been violated so thoroughly.

"Sebastian," Luna's voice broke through my thoughts, gentle but firm. Her eyes met mine, piercing and filled with concern. "Are you unwell? You’ve grown quiet."

I blinked, realizing I had stopped eating, my spoon suspended midair. Shaking my head, I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "No, I’m fine. Just… tired, I suppose."

She studied me for a moment longer, her gaze probing but not pressing. “You’re allowed to be tired,” she said softly, her hoof gently patting my thigh before she returned to her meal.

The simplicity of the gesture — the way she acknowledged my struggles without demanding more than I could give — turned my chest into a vice. I took another bite of oatmeal, forcing myself to focus on the present, on the care she had poured into this moment. But it wasn’t enough to banish the ache building inside me.

My eyes drifted to the apple she had skinned for me. A small, simple thing, but in its simplicity it meant the world. She had remembered. Out of everything she had to juggle — managing the aftermath of Chrysalis’s invasion, her duties as a princess, her concerns for my well-being — she had remembered that I hated apple skins. She had taken the time to peel it herself, ensuring it was just the way I liked it.

That was the breaking point.

My vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them. I set my spoon down, my hand trembling slightly as I tried to steady my breathing. The tray in front of me became a distorted mess of colors through my tears.

"Sebastian?" Luna’s voice was soft but alarmed. I felt the bed shift as she moved closer, her presence grounding yet overwhelming in the moment. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, trying to speak but finding my throat too tight to form words. My hand clenched into a fist on my lap, frustration and guilt mixing with the overwhelming love I felt for her. She deserved better than my silence, better than my half-truths.

Luna didn’t press me. She simply used her magic to set our food aside and waited. Her hoof resting lightly atop my hand, her touch telling me that she was here, and that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to choke out, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for… for shutting you out. For being like this. You’ve done so much, and I—” My words faltered as the weight of everything threatened to crush me.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said firmly, her voice steady but gentle. “Whatever burden you carry, you do not carry it alone. I am here.”

Her words only made the guilt heavier. How could I tell her? How could I explain the depths of what Chrysalis had done without reopening the wound? How could I tell her without making her feel the pain I had endured?

But she deserved to know. She deserved the truth, no matter how painful it was for me to share. I took a shaky breath, wiping at my eye as I tried to gather the courage to speak.

“Luna,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. My gaze met hers, and I saw nothing but patience and love in her eyes. It gave me the strength to continue. “There’s… something I haven’t told you. About what happened with Chrysalis. About how she… how she killed me.”

Luna’s ears perked, and her serene expression faltered, giving way to a flicker of concern. Her pupils narrowed slightly, not yet to slits but enough to betray the storm beginning to brew beneath her calm exterior. She shifted closer, her wing draping protectively over me, the soft feathers brushing against me.

“You are safe now,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of worry. “Speak freely, my love. Whatever you tell me, I shall bear it with you.”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of what I was about to say pressing down on my chest. Her wing tightened its hold, as if sensing my hesitation. She was so close, her presence a comfort and proof of why I needed to say this. I couldn’t keep this from her any longer.

“She… she fed on me, Luna,” I began, the words tumbling out unevenly. “My memories. My love for you. She twisted it, mocked it, and fed on it.”

Luna stiffened beside me. Her breath hitched, and I noticed her pupils beginning to elongate into slits. The room grew colder, the very air around us responding to the emotions welling up within her. But she didn’t speak yet. She waited, giving me the space to continue.

“She changed into you.” My voice cracked, the memory hurting far worse than I expected it to. “Perfectly. Your mane, your face, even your voice. She… she used your form to get more, to make it hurt more. She said my love for you was a leash, a weakness she could exploit. And then…”

I closed my eye, trying to steady myself. I felt Luna’s hoof rest on my hand, her touch easing some of the weight from my heart. The gentle gesture encouraged me to press on.

“She used Promise,” I said, my voice trembling. “She laughed, and said it was poetic… killing me with the very thing that represents my love for you. Then she drove it through my heart. ”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could feel the air in the room shift, growing heavy with the potency of Luna’s emotions. Her hoof trembled against my hand, and when I dared to look up, her pupils had fully turned to slits. Fangs, sharp and gleaming, were bared in a snarl, and her mane swirled violently.

“She dared,” Luna hissed, her voice lower and colder than I had ever heard it before. It sent a shiver down my spine, not out of fear but because of the sheer enormity of her fury. “That wretched insect dared to use my image, my love, my Promise to harm you?”

Her wing pulled me closer, as if shielding me from the very memory of what I had endured. The room itself seemed to tremble under the presence of her rage. Shadows trembled and the light of dawn reeled away from us as her magic stirred the air.

“She will pay for this,” Luna growled, her voice was the sound of a blade being unsheathed. “I shall tear her kingdom asunder, leave no stone unturned until she is dragged before me. She will suffer for every moment of agony she inflicted upon you, Sebastian. For every mockery she has made of us.”

I placed a hand under her peytral, feeling the rapid beat of her heart through her scarred chest. “Luna,” I said softly, hoping to reach her through the haze of her fury. “Don’t—”

Her head snapped down, her slit-pupiled gaze boring into mine. The intensity in her eyes was overwhelming, a mix of anger, pain, and something deeper and primal. “Do not ask me to temper this, Sebastian,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “Not this. She defiled what is sacred between us. She hurt you in a way that no blade or magic ever could. There will be no forgiveness.”

I didn’t flinch from her gaze. Instead, I nodded, understanding the depth of her anger better than anyone. This wasn’t just about me. It was about everything we shared, everything Chrysalis had violated. And I knew Luna would stop at nothing to make her pay.

I did not know if I could calm her, but I had to try.

Luna’s mane continued to swirl, her eyes glowing with an unearthly light. She leaned closer, her voice like thunder rolling across a storm-tossed sea. “I will kill her, Sebastian. For what she has done to you… to us. I will end her.”

The intensity in Luna’s voice was palpable in the very air itself, each word vibrating the space around us with her fury. Her pupils had already narrowed into razor-thin slits, and the faint gleam of her fangs caught the ambient light as her lips curled in an unrestrained snarl. The air around her crackled with energy, her mane whipping and swirling as though it were a living storm made up entirely of stars in the night sky

I sat up slightly, ignoring the dull aches that surged through my body. “Luna,” I said, my voice steady but soft. “Please, listen to me.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, and for a moment, the raw anger there was nearly overwhelming. But beneath it, I caught a flicker of something else — pain, deep and unyielding, borne from the thoughts of what had happened. What she couldn’t prevent. What had been taken from us both. I held onto that, anchoring myself against her tempestuous wrath.

“She deserves to die,” Luna hissed, her voice lowering into something primal. “Her actions demand retribution, and I will deliver it.”

“I know,” I replied, the weight of her words settling over me like a stone. “What she did was unforgivable. She took my life, Luna. She used Promise — a piece of you — to do it. There’s no justice for that.”

Her mane lashed, dark tendrils coiling in agitation. “Then why do you speak as if I should stay my hoof?” Her voice cracked with restrained fury, the glow in her eyes nearly burned in their intensity.

“Because killing her will only bring us more pain,” I said, locking my gaze with hers. “Think about it. Chrysalis doesn’t exist in isolation. If you take her life, her changelings will have a martyr and will come after you, after us. They’ll seek vengeance for their queen.”

Her expression faltered, her fury briefly giving way to consideration. I pressed on, determined to make her see what Meridin had made me see. To help her understand why Meridin and I turned to the Geas instead of something far more satisfying, like the Death Clutch spell.

“Do you want us to live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders? Always wondering if the pony next to us is who they claim to be? Always questioning whether some changeling assassin will come for you, or me, or…” I hesitated, then let the name fall. “Celestia?”

Luna flinched at her sister’s name, her jaw tightening. I could see the conflict brewing within her eyes, the desire for vengeance clashing against the deeper instinct to protect those she cared for most.

“This isn’t about forgiving Chrysalis,” I continued, my voice firm but laced with the gentleness I knew she needed to hear. “It’s about protecting those we love from the fallout of her death. If we kill her, we’re inviting chaos into our lives — into their lives.”

Her wings flared, the force of her frustration manifesting in the sharp snap of their movement. “And yet, you would have me allow her to live after what she has done? After she dared to wield Promise against you?”

“No,” I said quickly, meeting her fiery gaze without flinching. “This isn’t about letting her go unpunished. This is about choosing the path that spares us more suffering. We’ve already lost so much, Luna. I’m asking you not to let her take even more from us.”

Her mane stilled slightly, the chaotic motion slowly ebbing as she processed my words. Her breathing alongside her heart rate slowed, though her expression remained tight with suppressed rage. “And what would you have me do instead?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense. “Simply wait? Allow her to roam free? Unchallenged?”

“No,” I said again. “She is under a Geas, a spell in which she will have to take nonlethal commands from you, Celestia, and me. We can fight her, undermine her, depose her even — without plunging us into a blood feud with an entire race of shape-shifters. Let her fear us. Let her know she can’t touch us again without consequences. But don’t let her goad us into a mistake that costs us far more than we’ve already lost. I have already lost my best-buddy. I can not bear the thought of losing you too.”

For a long moment, there was silence. Luna stared at me, her glowing eyes searching mine. The energy in the room remained charged, but the storm within her seemed to quiet, if only slightly.

“You would spare her not for her sake,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of reluctant understanding, “but for ours.”

I nodded. “Because my love for you is greater than my hate for her. This isn’t about mercy. It’s about choosing a future where we can live without the constant threat of retaliation. Where we can heal. Where we can live.”

From the palm of my hand I could feel the tension in her body loosen, and though her pupils remained slitted, the fangs peeking from her lips began to recede some. Her mane shifted into a calmer rhythm. The wrathful storm abating, and granting passage back to the light of day.

Her voice softened, though the underlying anger remained. “You are wise, Sebastian. Wiser than I, in this moment.”

“Please, thank Meridin. It was his wisdom, not mine, that stopped me from doing just what you were about to do. And besides, it’s not wisdom,” I said, my hand falling down to take up her hoof. “It’s selfishness. I just want to protect you, and us. To keep what we have left safe.”

Her hoof rested in my hand, the faintest quiver betraying the depth of her emotions. “You speak of protection, yet it is I who failed to protect you, my love. You suffered… died… because of my failure.”

I shook my head. “No. What happened wasn’t your fault. Chrysalis is the one to blame. Not you.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the guilt warring with her anger. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit beside me, her mane draping over us like a curtain of night. “It pains me,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “To think that I must restrain myself when every fiber of my being demands her destruction.”

I leaned closer, slinging my good arm around her. “It’s not easy. But it’s the right choice.”

Luna’s eyes closed, and for a moment, she simply breathed. When she opened them again, the glow had dimmed and her pupils returned to their usual circular shape, though the resolve within them remained unshaken.

“Very well,” she said, her tone carrying the weight of her decision. “For you, and for those I cherish, I will stay my hoof — for now.”

I nodded, relief washing over me, but a part of me was disappointed. A significant part of me wanted Luna to charge out and kill the damned queen. Even though I knew that it would ignite a conflict on a yet unknowable scale, I still desired revenge.

How could I not?

I knew this wasn’t the end of her anger, nor of her desire for vengeance. It was simply postponed, redirected toward a purpose that would hopefully serve us all better.

Luna’s mane gradually lost its tempestuous swirl, settling back into its usual calm, starry flow. Her glowing eyes dimmed, the intense light softening to their familiar, comforting cyan. Her breathing slowed as the storm of emotions that had consumed her began to subside. She leaned back slightly, her focus shifting as she glanced toward the small bedside table.

Surprised, I followed her gaze and blinked. Our food was still there — intact, and sitting upon the tray she had brought it all in on. My mind registered the aroma of cinnamon, warm and inviting, cutting through the tension to remind us that we were in fact still hungry.

“You saved breakfast?” I asked, half in disbelief, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite the lingering severity of our conversation.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone steady but still carrying a faint trace of lingering emotion. “You need nourishment, especially after… everything.”

I glanced at the food and then at Luna. The fire in her eyes had dimmed greatly, from wrath to compassion. In her fire, I found it impossible to be burned. Instead, I found my self-doubts being turned to ash. Laying bare my most painful memory had lessened the tight knot of pain in my chest. It didn’t erase what had happened, but sharing it had granted me some measure of peace.

Shifting carefully on the bed, mindful of my missing arm, I reached for the tray and pulled it closer. The oatmeal was still warm, the scent of cinnamon enticing. “You made this, right?” I asked, spooning up a bite and tasting it. The blend of sweetness and spice was perfect, soothing in a way that only something home cooked with love could be.

Luna’s ears twitched slightly, and her face took on a not-so-subtle display of pride. “Yes, I wished for you to have something both hearty and comforting.”

“It’s incredible,” I said earnestly. “Seriously, I didn’t know you were such a good cook. And…” I picked up the apple, its skin neatly removed. This time I was able to keep myself from breaking down over something as simple and heartfelt as a skinned apple. “Thanks again for skinning this for me. You really thought of everything.”

Her expression softened further, and a faint smile graced her lips. “You are recovering. It is the least I could do.” She paused, her gaze flicking to my toast and then back to me, as though gauging whether I was eating enough.

I returned to the oatmeal, taking a few more bites before nibbling on the toast. The act of eating was cathartic, something simple and normal after such an emotionally charged moment was invaluable. Luna remained nearby as she ate alongside me, her presence steady and reassuring. She didn’t press me with words. Instead, she took up her own bowl, allowing her own tension to ease further as we ate.

When I finished the oatmeal and started on the apple, I glanced at her again. Luna was already finished with her meal, her bowl set aside. “You know,” I said between bites, “you’ve really outdone yourself. I don’t think I’ve had a better breakfast in… well, ever.”

Her smile grew, this time with a trace of playfulness. “Flattery, Sebastian?”

“Not flattery — truth,” I replied, grinning. “If this whole ruling-the-night thing ever gets old, you might have a future in culinary arts. I bet you’d bake some amazing moon cakes!”

A soft laugh escaped her, and the sound filled the room, lifting the last remnants of heaviness from the air. She moved to sit beside me on the bed, her hoof resting lightly atop my leg, her eyes watching me closely once more.

As I took my last bite of the apple, Luna shifted slightly, her demeanor turning thoughtful. Her gaze met mine, steady and intent, as though she were weighing her next words carefully.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice quieter now, carrying an undertone of vulnerability that she reserved for asking questions that pertained to her heart. That tone never failed to catch my attention. “There is something I must ask of you.”

I tilted my head, curious. “What is it?”

She exhaled softly, her eyes never leaving mine. “You are already spending your bedrest here, as prescribed.” A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but she pressed on. “And it is… agreeable, having you here more often. More than agreeable. It feels right.”

I blinked, caught off guard but intrigued.

Luna hesitated for only a moment before continuing. “I would like for you to remain. Permanently. Move into my chambers. Not just for bedrest, but… always.”

Her words sank in, and a warmth spread through me, banishing the chill that had lingered from earlier. “You mean that?” I asked, although it was a completely unnecessary question. Her sincerity was crystal clear in her expression.

She nodded. "I do. I want you here. With me. Not just for bedrest, but… always. Move into my chambers. Be with me, not just in the night, but in all things.”

For a moment, I could only stare at her, the significance of her words sinking in. Then I smiled, a genuine, unrestrained smile that felt like the first in far too long. It felt weird to smile like this, with this new scarred face of mine. It all felt rougher and stretched, but nothing could’ve stopped me from smiling in this moment.

“Yes,” I said, the word carrying a level of certainty in them that had been missing since before the ‘unknown’ threat had made itself known. “I’d love that.”

Luna’s face lit up with pure joy, her eyes soft and warm as she leaned into me. The usual ethereal flow of her mane seemed to slow, as her emotions bled into the magic animating it. She shifted to lie across my lap, draping herself with an ease that spoke of the numerous days we had already spent together, both in this room and out. Her silver shoes caught the light of the rising sun, but I only had eyes for her.

"Then it is decided," she declared, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You are mine in all ways, Sebastian, and now my chambers shall be yours as well.”

Her possessiveness might have unnerved me once upon a time, but now it wrapped around me like a protective cocoon. I ran my hand down her side, feeling the sleek softness of her coat, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and her faint shivers when my fingers traced scars. “You’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?” I teased, letting my fingers linger at her ribs, where I knew one of her scars lay.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, her tone playful yet unrepentant. “Would you have me wait for you to come to your senses? I think not. It might have taken months.” She shifted slightly, pressing an ear above my heart, as if to ensure it was still beating. “Besides, you belong here. This is where you are safe, where you are needed, and…” Her voice softened. “Where you are loved.”

I felt my heart ache at her words, a mingling of gratitude and guilt. I still bore the scars — physical and emotional — of what Chrysalis had done, and though I’d tried to push the memories aside, they lingered. Luna seemed to sense the shift in my mood, tilting her head to look up at me, her mane flowing down her shoulder like a silken curtain.

“You doubt my claim?” she asked, her voice gentler now, the teasing edge giving way to something deeper.

“No,” I replied quickly, brushing my hand through her mane. The texture was cool and soft, like liquid midnight between my fingers. “I’ve never doubted that. It’s just… I should have told you sooner.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but in a quiet insistence that I continue. “Speak, my dear consort.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “When Chrysalis killed me…” The words felt jagged, scraping as I forced them out. "She took your shape. I know it wasn't you, but it still kind of bothers me."

Luna went still. Her mane, ever shifting, seemed to lose some of its luster, the motion slowing as though stilled by her thoughts. “She…” Luna’s voice was quiet, almost hollow. “She looked like me?”

I nodded. A phantom pain stabbed through my heart as I remembered the grotesque perfection of Chrysalis’s disguise — the cruel mimicry of Luna’s grace and strength, twisted into a weapon. “Exactly like you,” I said, my voice thick with the memory. “She used your face, your voice. She made it…” My words faltered, the memory still too raw.

Luna didn’t speak for a long moment, her eyes darkening as her expression shifted — first to anger, but then her anger gave way to something far more complex. A mixture of sorrow, guilt, and an emotion I couldn’t quite name. Slowly, deliberately, she removed her crown, peytral, and shoes with her magic, setting it all onto the bedside table in a series of quiet clinks. Then, to my surprise, her horn glowed again, and the magic in her mane began to dissipate.

The shimmering stars faded first, winking out one by one, leaving her hair a deep, midnight blue. Without the ethereal magic to animate it, her mane fell around her shoulders, smooth and heavy. She ran a hoof through it, her movements deliberate as she let it settle in a way I’d only seen her mane like this twice before. Once on the very first day we met, and the other more recently when we stood beside me in the rain.

“Is this better?” she asked quietly, her voice subdued. “Do I look less like the monster who dared to wear my face?”

The sight of her like this — raw and unadorned — soothed the pain within my heart. I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing against the soft fur there. “You could never look like her,” I said, my voice firm. “She tried to mimic you, but she could never be you. You’re more than your looks, Luna. You’re everything she could never touch.”

Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world rested in that gaze. Then she leaned into my touch. She was so warm against my palm.

“You are mine,” she said again, softly this time, as if the words were more for herself than for me. “And no creature — changeling or otherwise — will ever take you from me again.”

Luna’s words wrapped around me, heavy with an unshakable resolve that comforted me. Perhaps those words should have unsettled me, but when I looked into her eyes all I felt was safe. Her mane, now free of its usual magic, framed her face in dark waves that softened her sharp features. She was breathtaking in a way that made my chest ache in all the right ways.

I lowered my hand from her cheek, resting it against the side of her neck, feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse beneath my fingertips. “I’m lucky to have you,” the words came easily, carrying a truth that was borne from my heart, and solidified in the crucible of my struggles.

Her lips curved faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lucky,” she echoed. Her gaze fell to the stump of my right arm, then to where Promise had pierced my heart, and finally ending on the ruins of the right side of my face and my right eye. “If you were with someone else — anyone else — perhaps you might still have your arm, your eye… Aldin. You might not have died.”

For a moment it felt like Promise had returned to rest in my heart again, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I tightened my grip ever so slightly. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But nothing in life is certain, Luna. If things had been different, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Or maybe something better.” I paused, my voice softening. “All I know is that I have the love of my life, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

Luna’s gaze softened, and I could feel some tension leave her. She exhaled a slow breath, the faintest tremor running through her as she leaned closer, her wing draping over me with protective warmth. “You speak as though I am worth all you have lost.”

“You are.”

Her eyes closed briefly, and when she opened them again, there was a depth to her gaze that stole the breath from my lungs. “I do not deserve you, Sebastian,” she murmured.

“You deserve far better than me,” I replied, my lips twitching into the closest thing to a smile I could manage. “However, I’m afraid our time together has made me greedy, so I’m not letting you go.”

For a long moment, she said nothing, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my heart race. Then, without a word, she shifted closer, her mane brushing against my arm. The strands were impossibly soft like silk and carrying the faint scent of lavender. Then, slowly, a tear slid down her cheek, though she smiled through it.

“You are maddening, Sebastian Hilam,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Good,” I replied with a small smile, leaning closer. “I’d hate to be boring.”

That earned a soft laugh from her, and before I could say anything more, she closed the distance between us. Her kiss was soft, tender, and lingering, and it felt like the world melted away for a moment. The warmth of her touch, the taste of cinnamon still faintly on her lips — it was all I needed to remind me why everything I’d endured was worth it.

When she pulled back, her gaze remained fixed on mine, her cheeks tinted with the faintest blush. “You’re quite the romantic, my love. I didn’t expect it when we first met.”

I smirked. “What can I say? You bring it out of me.”

Luna laughed at that. Her laugh was a melody, a song I realized that I wanted to listen to every day for the rest of my life.

I reached out, threading my fingers gently through her midnight locks. “You’re beautiful,” I said, the words slipping free before I could think better of it. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but like this… with your hair down…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the way she looked so real, so untouchable yet so tangible all at once. “Gorgeous.”

Luna’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks darkening with a blush that made her look almost shy. “You see me as no other does,” she whispered, her voice tinged with wonder.

“Because no one else loves you the way I do,” I replied.

Her lips trembled, and a genuine, unguarded smile graced her face. It was a small and fleeting smile, but it was enough to set my heart at ease.

After a few moments of silence, Luna’s lips quirked into a playful grin, her mood shifting into something lighter. “Well,” she said, her voice taking on a playful lilt, “if you’re moving in, I’ll have to make room in the wardrobe. And you’ll have to endure my company at all hours, not just during the night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” I replied, a teasing edge to my tone. “As long as I get to keep moments like this.”

Luna’s smile turned sly as she stretched out luxuriously, rolling in my lap until she was laying with her back down with her head resting on my lap. Her mane — still free of its ethereal flow and stars — spilled over my legs in a wave of silken midnight, and her eyes sparkled with playful mischief as she looked up at me.

“Sebastian,” she began, her voice taking on a light, teasing tone, “sharing chambers is no small matter. Are you prepared for the challenges that come with living with royalty?”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking down at her. “Challenges? Like what? Endless comfort? A view that rivals the heavens? Or is it the occasional royal decree to cuddle?”

She laughed, her hoof gently brushing my chest. “All of the above. Though, you’ll also have to endure my… peculiarities.”

“Oh no,” I said, feigning shock. “Not peculiarities. What kind of horrors am I signing up for?”

Her eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “For one, I can be rather stubborn about keeping the room cold, even in winter. You’ll have to contend with that.”

“Good thing I run warm,” I quipped, resting my hand lightly on her shoulder. “And stubbornness? Please, that’s nothing new. Have you met yourself?”

She gasped dramatically, her hoof flying to her chest. “Such accusations! Perhaps I should reconsider allowing you into my sacred chambers.”

I laughed, the sound feeling strangely easy and unforced. “You’re the one who insisted. Don’t back out now.”

Her grin softened, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression taking on a more tender quality. “I mean it, you know. I want you here. This is your home now as much as it is mine.”

The sincerity in her voice filled my chest with warmth as I ran my fingers through her mane, marveling at how something so simple could feel so intimate. “You’ve already made it feel that way,” I admitted. “I didn’t think I’d ever find a place where I would truly belong… but with you, it’s different. Home is where you are.”

She reached up, her hoof brushing against my arm. “You’ve given me more than you realize, Sebastian. And you’re mine. No matter what comes, you are mine.”

The possessiveness in her voice sent a shiver down my spine — not of fear, but a sense of being anchored to her in a way that felt so wonderfully unshakable. It was a sensation that I yearned for. I leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that sent my mind spinning and my heart racing.

When we broke apart, she sighed contentedly, shifting to return to her former position as princess of my lap. “You’ll have to adjust to the grandeur of my wardrobe,” she mused, her tone playful once more. “I suppose I could set aside a few drawers for you. Perhaps even a corner of the closet.”

“How generous,” I said dryly, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away. “I’ll try not to clutter the place.”

“Mhm, I’m sure you will,” she replied, poking my side with her hoof. “And don’t think I’ll tolerate any of those mismatched socks you seem to favor.”

“Hey, mismatched socks have character,” I countered, laughing. “But fine, I’ll keep the chaos to a minimum. For you.”

She hummed in approval, her tail flicking lazily. “And in return, I promise to make the adjustment worth your while.”

Luna's playful smirk lingered as she shifted slightly, her wings spreading lazily along the cushions of the bed, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She stretched her forelegs upward, her sleek, powerful frame on full display, and her mane spilled further across my lap like a cascade of liquid shadow. Her eyes, half-lidded, sparkled with a mixture of mischief and something far more agreeable.

“Oh, Sebastian,” she purred, her voice dipping into a richer, sultry tone. “You say you’ll keep the chaos to a minimum, but we both know better. I’ve seen how you handle your room.”

“Hey,” I protested, a grin tugging at my lips as I unnecessarily brushed her mane away from her face. “Organized chaos is still a form of order. Besides, you’re one to talk! I’ve seen you when you’re preparing for Night Court.”

She gasped, feigning indignation, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement. “I am a princess, Sebastian. My ‘chaos,’ as you call it, is calculated. Strategic, even.”

“Strategic, huh?” I leaned down slightly, my fingers tracing idle patterns along her chest. “I guess that makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it? A pair of chaotic masterminds.”

Her laughter was soft and warm, her hoof reaching up to lightly bat at my chest. “Careful, consort. You will only embolden me.”

“Maybe that’s all part of my master plan,” I teased, letting my hand trail down her side. Her fur was soft beneath my touch, and the warmth of her body seeped so pleasantly into mine. It was a sensation I could get lost in, an addictive cure for the raw emotions that had raged inside me since… everything.

Luna shifted again, propping herself up slightly so her head rested more comfortably in my lap. Her mane, loose and untamed, framed her face in a way that was undeniably captivating. She watched me intently, her expression softer now, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to something more tender.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice quieter but no less assured, “I truly do want this. Not just the shared chambers, but all of it. You, here with me. You’re not just my consort or my apprentice. You’re…” She hesitated for the briefest moment, searching for the words. “You’re a part of me now.”

Her admission struck something deep within me, and I found myself momentarily at a loss for words. Instead of fumbling out some foolish words and embarrassing myself, I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that was a wordless promise of everything I couldn’t hope to put into words. Her hoof rose to rest gently above my heart, anchoring me to her, and the world outside of this moment faded into irrelevancy.

When we finally parted, her eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks faintly flushed. She regarded me with an expression that felt like it could unravel every carefully guarded piece of myself I’d tried to hold together.

“You’re dangerous,” I murmured, my thumb brushing along her jawline as I marveled at the sight of her like this — unguarded, beautiful in a way that felt almost otherworldly.

“Dangerous?” she repeated, arching an elegant brow. “I could say the same of you.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted with a soft chuckle. “But you’re the one who could command armies or reshape the night sky. I’m just a stubborn wizard who stumbled into your life.”

Her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts fondness and possession. “You underestimate yourself, my love. You’ve faced horrors that would have driven most to madness or despair. You turned an army to stone. You’ve given me something I thought lost long ago.” Her hoof brushed against my scarred face, her touch lingering. “You’ve taught me what it means to love and be loved.”

Her words wrapped around me, soothing an ache that had remained unknown to me until now. My fingers continued their gentle exploration of her mane, marveling at the weight and texture of it, the way it framed her features so perfectly. The fact that she did this for me…

“I love you, Luna.”

“I love you too, Sebastian.”

For a while, we simply sat there together, the banter fading into comfortable silence as I absently ran my fingers through her mane. The warmth of her presence, the weight of her against me — it was all so perfectly sublime. My mind drifted to the darkness that had gripped me since Aldin’s death, since losing my arm, my eye, and everything else that felt like it had been ripped away. Yet, somehow, Luna had managed to pull me out of that darkness, even if only for a little while.

Looking down into her eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at how she did it. How her light seemed to slip so effortlessly through the cracks in my armor to reach the corners of my being that I’d thought had gone irreparably numb.

She was extraordinary. Her love was beautiful, fierce, and wholly mine. Nothing in this plane or any other could hope to rival such a divine gift. Although mythic power might now coil around my heart and soul, it was Luna’s love that laid the truest claim. In this singular moment, I fully understood the wisdom that the Lady of the Graves had parted with me.

Love bears all things.