The Pale Stone

The Pale Stone

Underneath the ambience of a sea of glittering stars, Anonymous the human raised an arm and pointed to a streak of brilliant light cutting through the night.

“Look, it’s a shooting star–make a wish, Moonie.”

The grass beneath them felt cool to the touch, and the faint breeze whistling through the trees sounded like a lullaby sent straight from heaven. Shame that Princess Luna, his steadfast companion almost every night, had systematically destroyed his circadian rhythm through a series of nighttime outings to a dozen different barren vistas beyond the Canterlot city outskirts. This time they’d ended up near the top of the mountain that overlooked the castle.

The midnight-blue alicorn tucked under herself beside him snorted, flicking an ear. He was sure she wanted to strangle him–which she probably would have if she had hands.

“Anonymous, I have told you a thousand times before: there are no shooting stars here in Equestria, despite how much you have tried to argue the contrary. What you see in the night sky are simply flares from residual pockets of magic that permeate the outer atmosphere of our planet.”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands. The dull roar of the nearby waterfall fought for his attention, but in the end he was drawn back to the mesmerizing Equestrian night. “Looks like a shooting star to me. I think you’re just embarrassed to admit you don’t know what something out there in the sky is.”

Luna jumped to her hooves faster than he could blink, glaring down at him. “I am the Princess of the Night, Anonymous! There is nothing in this sky that escapes my knowledge.”

“Then what about that right there,” Anon called out as he collapsed onto his back lazily, retracting his hand as soon as he’d pointed. It was impossible that Luna could have figured out what he pointed to, but it didn’t stop her from looking anyway.

“What? Where?” Luna arched her neck, searching the nebulous black above for anything out of the ordinary.

“That shooting star right the- oof!” Anon mourned the wind that suddenly left his lungs as Luna pounced on his chest, shoving a hoof in his face.

“By the heavenly bodies above we will send you into orbit if we must hear about shooting stars one more time, Anonymous. Stars do not shoot–it is impossible. Stars twinkle and shine and light the way for ships in the night but they do not shoot.” She stared down at him for a moment, her breath wisping away in a cloud of white.

A few weeks ago he’d have thought her threat perfectly credible, but Anon had learned eventually that Luna seemed to love this sort of banter almost as much as he did; the corners of her mouth threatened a playful smirk, betraying as much.

“Hey, you’re doing that ‘we’thing aga- augh!” Anon winced as Luna leaned into his chest, no doubt already bruised. “Okay, okay, no more shooting stars, jeez.” Anon sat up abruptly, pushing the Princess onto her hindquarters. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Luna rolled her eyes after the surprise of suddenly being manhandled had faded. “Yes, but what conversation needs to be made bathed under such a beautiful night as this?” Her mock-anger forgotten, Luna turned to face far beyond the edge of the cliff. It truly was a sight to behold, and though Anon had tried his best not to forget the slow nights he’d spent lazily stargazing in the country back on Earth, he had to admit that the Equestrian midnight was something indescribably beautiful.

“I dunno. I mean, it’s pretty and all, but we’ve been out here for a while. I think your guards are probably looking for you.”

Luna stiffened. “They are no guards of mine–just our sister’s minions. They follow me because she told them to, not because they care about my safety.”

“What’s the difference? They could just say no if they didn’t want to protect you.” Rubbing his chest mournfully, Anon sat up again.

“You don’t understand. Ponies don’t just tell Tia no–how could they refuse a request from their beloved Princess Celestia, the one who raises the life-giving sun that guards their daytime play and livelihoods? It’s always been that way.” Luna sniffed, turning away suddenly. The moonlight reflected off of her glossy coat in a peculiar way, forcing Anonymous to avert his eyes to avoid being blinded. “And in any case, I do not need protecting–I am more than capable of taking care of myself. What pony would dare to attack the Princess of the Night in her own domain?”

“Moonie, do you hear yourself? You sound like a supervillain. How are you gonna complain about not having your own guards that want to protect you, then in the same breath say that you don’t need protecting because you’re Princess of the Night?” Anon leaned over and prodded the alicorn square in the nose, sending her cross-eyed.

She sputtered and reeled away, covering her scrunched muzzle defensively with a foreleg. “How many times have I told you to cease doing that? Your failure to comply with simple requests astounds me–and you say that you come from a race of hyper intelligent apex predators that have conquered every corner of your planet.” Luna’s retort was short and appropriate, but Anon knew better than to take offense.

He grinned. “About as many times as I’ve done that.”

Luna held her glare for a while, then dropped her foreleg defeatedly and sighed. “And you will continue to do so, I imagine.”

“Yep.”

She groaned. They both fell silent after a while, content to bask under the gentle glow of the moon. The perfect circle of white that pricked the sky was a lot like Luna herself: sometimes obvious and shining for attention, and sometimes shrouded in darkness and hidden away from the world. But as he sat there, a growing apprehension started gnawing at him, begging for his attention. It was the same anytime he felt himself getting along too well with someone–or somepony, as Luna and the rest of the equines here would say.

He hesitated, wondering if it was worth starting an argument, but his anxiety eventually won out. Anon cleared his throat, drawing one of Luna’s fluffy ears in his direction.

“Why do you keep bringing me out here, Luna?”

Luna faced him with an anxious expression that otherwise might have escaped his notice if she hadn’t been bathed in bright moonbeams.

“...Do you dislike our company?” She had lapsed back into plurality, her apparent nervous habit, and Anon suddenly wished he hadn’t spoken up after all.

“No, it isn’t that–I just don’t understand why you’d want me to come with you of all people- er, ponies. I mean, I’m just the alien nobody’s figured out how to get rid of yet.” He groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s not like I’m not grateful for Celestia’s good grace or anything, and I appreciate her letting me stay in the castle for now, but I’m still just an outsider. It’d make more sense for you to take one of your friends…” He trailed off as she stared saucers at him, expressionless.

“Are we not friends, Anon?” She spoke as if resigned to an answer she’d already decided in her head, and he shook his head.

“No- I mean, yes. I guess?” He finished weakly. “But it’s not like we have a lot in common or anything.”

Luna turned away, her muzzle hidden by a cascade of twinkling mane that flowed like a river down her shoulder. “Well, you like to read, do you not? You have told us about the great many books you consumed as a colt.”

Anon resisted the urge to correct her. “Sure, but I have yet to find a single book here that isn’t written in horse-themed hieroglyphs or backwards letters.”

She flicked an ear. “And do you not find our night sky to be most pleasant?”

“Well yeah, I think I’ve made that pretty clear since you ask me about it every time you drag me out here.” He winced; he hadn’t intended to make it sound like she was twisting his arm about coming here.

If she was hurt, she didn’t let it show. “Then we would argue that by all metrics we are friends–unless you simply wish not to be so.” Her voice was cool, much like the night air. He suddenly felt the chill that had been there the whole time, and regretted not having brought anything warmer to wear.

“Luna, that’s not what I’m saying. I just want to know why you wanted me specifically to come with you.”

She didn’t speak immediately, and when she finally did he was almost convinced she had fallen asleep.

“Do we need a reason? Could it not just be that we thought you would make for good company?” She rocked her hips to the side, splaying her hind legs away from him. He still couldn’t see her expression, and it bothered him a little.

“I… I guess not.” They fell into another hushed silence.

“Did you know that my sister and I are immortal, Anon?” The question, seemingly unrelated, shocked Anon about as much as every other revelation about Equestria that he’d been forced to make sense of since his mysterious arrival. He couldn’t help but sympathize, though–he would never wish to live forever.

“Can’t say I did,” Anon said.

The sudden flash of energy drew Anon’s attention, and he noticed that Luna had picked up about a dozen rocks, excavated magically from the rocky soil near the cliff’s bare face. She held them in front of the both of them, suspended so that they obscured bits of the moon still listing at a snail’s pace toward the horizon; Anon idly wondered what time it was.

“When our kingdom had already been established for some time, perhaps less than a hundred years, Tia and I had set out to make friends with some of our citizens. It may seem a little strange to you, from what little you’ve told me about your own monarchies on Earth, but ponies are social creatures–we thrive on interpersonal relationships.”

Luna lined the rocks up in a row, arranged in no particular order excluding the largest pale stone that she kept far to the left.

“My sister learned quicker than I did, and was less picky with whom she associated, but I had resolved to find only the best of the best, the ponies truly worthy of my attention as a Princess. I scoured Equestria in search of the finest scholars, diplomats, adventurers, and even regular businessponies I could find. When I found one, I would give them my compliments and invite them quite hastily back to Canterlot so that we could grow closer in our budding friendship–there was a time when I believed you could make friends simply by bribing somepony with the promise of a lavish life in the capital. Most of the time it worked.”

The rock closest to the white stone Luna held to the left began to bleed dust, crushed under the pressure of Luna’s magical grasp. The process was agonizingly slow, as if she were squeezing the juice out of a lemon–or the blood out of a corpse. Then in a sudden implosion, the rock disappeared. Anon shielded his eyes with an arm, peering carefully at the remaining stones.

“As you might imagine, this worked for a time. Not all of them turned out to be great friends, but of those that did, the friendships we forged were abundant with all of the joys and sorrows of life: I watched them get married, have foals, build successful careers for themselves out of nothing. There were even…” Luna paused, and Anon thought her voice sounded uncharacteristically strained, “...even stallions I courted. But the thing about being immortal is that eventually, you must say goodbye to them all.”

One after the other, Luna crushed the remaining stones. Each disappeared in a cloud of dust, all disintegrated with equal disdain, or equal apathy. But by the end, she simply tossed the remaining stones away, gazing after them listlessly as they careened into the castle courtyard below.

“The worst of it was when I returned from my banishment. I’ve long since forgiven my sister of any wrongdoing, actual or perceived–no matter what I said to you earlier–but I still haven’t quite forgiven myself for the ponies I left behind when I fell to the darkness.” Her stoic demeanor began to chip away, and Anon couldn’t help noticing the sorrow that crept into her words.

“They all died, Anonymous. Everypony I had known, everypony I had befriended. The towns I knew and the names I knew, all gone–like dust in the wind.” Luna shuddered, and Anon hoped the alicorn was simply shivering from the cold. Anon sat on his hands, watching the slow rise and fall of Luna’s barrel.

“So… What were the rocks for?”

Luna chuckled, turning back to him with a half-smile. “Eventually I realized that the lives of mortal ponies are too short to need a reason for making friends. If you will all perish anyway, why not take solace in the fact that good friends are everywhere–so long as you’re willing to give them a chance.” Luna stared at Anon, her small smile never fading despite her somber tone. Anon chewed on her explanation for a while.

“...Does that mean I’m the white rock? Or was I one of the ones that exploded?” Luna furrowed her brow, anger flashing over her features, then she relaxed.

“Forget it, Anonymous. Just know that I enjoy your company, and I don’t need a reason to have picked you in particular. Is it so strange that a pony would want to associate with you simply because you aren’t of this world?”

His eyes averted, Anon shrugged indifferently.

“I dunno. I guess I never had many friends back on Earth either.”

Luna exhaled sharply, shifting her weight. “And I was always under the impression I was the worst pony in Equestria at making friends–I suppose now I have some proper competition.”

“I’m not a pony, but you can’t really have a competition if your opponent isn’t willing to participate.”

She tilted her head. “Do you mean that-”

“I’m not really interested in making any friends here, if I’m being honest. When I first got here, I was mostly just terrified at everything and wanted to get back home. Now that I know I can’t, well…” Anon trailed off, rising to his feet. The unpleasant tingling in his legs threatened his composure, but he stuffed his hands into his pocket and managed enough angst to kick uselessly against the matted grass underfoot. “I kind of just want to go build a shack in the woods somewhere and do my own thing. I never was really any good at the whole friends thing.”

“You cannot expect to get any better if you never put forth the effort.”

“That’s the thing–I have put in the effort. I used to try really hard to get people to like me, but it never worked out; aside from my parents, maybe, I doubt anyone even misses me back home.”

Luna looked away, though her ears signaled her continued interest in talking with him.

“Then why did you wish to return so badly?”

“Because…” Anon had to think, despite the mounting he felt to give some effortless response. “Because I knew my place back on Earth. I was a loser, and a loner, but at least I knew what to do. I would stay in my lane and nobody would bother me, and that was just fine with me. Now, I don’t know who I am–hence my wanting to fuck off and disappear.”

Luna looked as if she wanted to reel from the intensity of his expletives despite her lack of clear understanding, and Anon cringed a little as she asked the inevitable question that followed whenever he let one slip. “What does ‘fuck off’ mean?”

“Sorry, don’t repeat that. Just means I want to be left alone.”

“I see,” said Luna slowly, and he was thankful she didn’t press any further. “Well, speaking of your place here: I would say that you are a citizen of Equestria now that my sister and I have deigned to grant you citizenship, and you are my friend.”

Friend. She said it again. Anon latched onto the word, unconsciously turning to inspect Luna’s expression. She was looking at him with brilliant cyan eyes, lidded casually, but her face was unreadable. Maybe it was just a pony thing–he was usually so good at picking up on feelings that weren’t his own.

“And what if I still want to go disappear in the woods?”

“It would be irresponsible to let you do that with so little knowledge of our world. Ponies are quite hospitable, but I could not say the same for the rest of Equestria’s creatures.”

“I think I could manage.”

Luna thought for a moment. “Perhaps, but I still would not want you to go off by yourself–because I don’t believe you truly want to be left alone.”

Anon frowned; he fidgeted with the fabric of his jeans pockets, ignoring the knots forming in his stomach.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’ve been accompanying me to gaze into the starry sky for the past two weeks. You would be well within your right to refuse if you wished.” Anon was surprised she still hadn’t grown angry with him, or even a little irritated over the pointless argument they were having; Luna still looked as pleasantly impassive as she had when they’d started.

He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes, recalling their earlier conversation. “What if it was Celestia? Could I tell her no?” She raised a brow, scoffing.

“You are not a guard, Anonymous.”

He met her gaze seriously. “If I said I wanted to leave right now, would you let me?”

Luna finally stood from her spot on the grass. She shook her head, tossing her starry mane back and forth as she finished stretching with a flick of her tail.

“If you’d rather be by yourself.”

“Even if I want to go off in the woods?”

“No, because you’d get yourself killed,” she said matter of factly.

“And what would that matter to you?” Anon could feel the rising tension in his voice, and he was sure he sounded ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure why he was arguing anymore. “Because you consider me one of your subjects now? Your responsibility?”

“Because you are my friend, Anonymous.”

Whatever he’d planned to say died in his throat. Anon fell back down into the grass, deflated, and after a moment of weak scowling he finally relaxed his face and sighed. Luna wandered over to him, folding her legs underneath and plopping down beside him; she was a little closer than before, close enough that he could smell whatever floral perfume she was wearing.

“Everypony needs a friend, Anonymous. It was a lesson I had to learn the hard way, and I am all the better for it now that I understand how powerful friendship can be.”

“I’ve never really needed any before now.”

“Before now,” Luna repeated. Her great feathery wings twitched at her sides, brushing against Anon. “But you are in a difficult situation that could be made tremendously more pleasant if you’d just let somepony help you.” He stayed silent, looking anywhere but at the alicorn to his right. Her words rang familiar in his head, like similar words he’d heard so many times before, but now it was impossible to just bury them–she was too right.

“You said before that you struggled to make friends on Earth,” said Luna after a while.

“...Yeah, what about it?”

“I noticed that you’ve taken to calling me a pet name–Moonie, if I recall correctly. If anypony else were to hear that, they could only believe we were the closest of friends. Not even my sister calls me anything other than Luna these days; I’m certain she is afraid of bringing the past into the future.” Luna stared wistfully into the night, shivering again. After a brief internal debate, Anon scooted a little closer to the Princess, relishing the spot of warmth that brushed his arm. He felt her tense, then relax against his arm, sending his heart beating much faster.

“Why have you not given Tia her own alias? I can think of several amusing titles I drafted myself while imprisoned upon the surface of the moon.” Luna stifled a giggle with her forehoof.

“I dunno.”

“Are you quite certain it isn’t because we are friends?”

“Hey look, a shooting star!”

Luna snorted, harmlessly smacking him in the shoulder with a wing. He didn’t know they could extend that fast, and it was honestly a little impressive. “Don’t avoid the question.”

“...Maybe it is.” Anon played with the idea. Friends with royalty? It was something surely impossible for someone with his background back home, but here–well, it seemed like anything was possible.

They sat like that for a little longer, admiring the wisps of magic that floated in and out of sight, weaving amongst the stars like little acrobats. But soon enough, Luna rose to her hooves, and Anon let himself miss the warmth of her body beside him.

“It is time to lower the moon, it seems.” It didn’t take a genius to see that Luna didn’t really want to, but Anon knew enough to understand she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“That’s a shame–it really was a beautiful night.” Anon rocked himself up, raising his arms high above his head in a reinvigorating stretch. Yawning sleepily, he glanced over to find Luna gazing at him.

“Thank you. And yes, it is a shame, but that is why it’s important to live in the moment–you never know when you’ll come across the same opportunity again.” He gave her a troubled look, then chewed his lip as he lowered his eyes.

Luna turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Good morning, Anonymous–and goodnight.”

“Luna,” he said before he could stop himself. She rounded again, unreadable.

“Could we… Can we do this again tomorrow–or tonight, I guess?” He finished lamely, twisting his foot into the grass. He already knew that they would, but he still felt the need to ask. It seemed different, for him to invite her out for once.

“Only if you promise to not look for shooting stars,” she said with a sly grin. He couldn’t help but crack a smile of his own, looking up to meet her wonderfully expressive eyes; something about ponies and their big eyes made it that much harder to brood like he wanted.

“No promises.”

“And I take it that is as good as it’s going to get?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Then I suppose that will have to do.” She started again for the castle, but paused a short ways away and turned back to look at him. Taking the hint, Anon jogged over to where she waited and together they walked back to the castle.