She's back?

Chapters

1: Summer Sun Celebration part-1-
1.5: interlude: Tibbles the Tyrant
2: Summer Sun Celebration part-2-
3: Summer Sun Celebration part-3-
4: Summer Sun Celebration part-4-

1: Summer Sun Celebration part-1-

In ancient tales of legend, stories spread about the mysterious visage that marked the moon and even more about the event that caused it. Thus, they are often tied to an event together, with the event itself gaining the name "Moonlit Dawn." This phenomenon and what came after, captivated scholars, evoking as much intrigue as the enigmatic figure referred to as the "Mare in the Moon." did to the common populace of the time. Speaking of, unfortunately, most of the original accounts were merely verbal retellings and stories, stories that evolved, distorted by oral tradition and the passage of years, yet each retained a core element of truth within its narrative. Central to these narratives was the depiction of a being of the night. It consistently emphasized a being (theorized to be an Alicorn as well) of the night who served as a balancing counterpart to our beloved Princess. This entity ultimately inspired the figure of Nightmare Moon, the infamous mare of the Nightmare Night holiday, feared as a devourer of foals.

Regarding the ‘Mare in the Moon’ herself, most accounts demonize the figure within the lunar visage, assigning derogatory names and attributes that often served political or ideological agendas. Conversely, other narratives adopt a more empathetic tone, describing a mare who succumbed to discordant forces, driven by overwhelming jealousy and anger. A version of this tale, perhaps familiar to many readers, was later adapted into a children's story published by the Royal Canterlot Publishing House. This version gained widespread acceptance as the most credible account, and then later passed off as merely a legend, as is the title of the book it is said to be the case. However, evidence exists—fragments of older stories, written documents, and artefacts— in the historical sense that mention the Moonlit Dawn and predate the oldest version of the current prime account by at least 24 years. Unfortunately, those records have mentioned a second Princess, who is mentioned nowhere else. That princess is theorized to be the Mare in the Moon. The one who is supposed to be ‘permanently’ banished.

If the prophecy that was later associated with this legend marks the original occurrence of the event, then the "Nightmare" should have returned eight years ago. Conversely, if the prophecy signifies the date of its declaration, the event would coincide with the 1000th Summer Sun Celebration, which will take place 16 years from the date of this book's writi-

The book slammed shut with a sharp clap, the force from the throw rattled the stack it landed on as Twilight Sparkle let out a low, exasperated groan. With a flick of her horn, the next volume floated toward her, its spine creaking under the strain of magic. She barely glanced at it, no more than reading the title, before she tossed it aside. Five books down since the sun had dipped below the horizon, and still nothing. No clues, no answers—just the same tired, circular tales that refused to explain anything with proof!

Twilight sighed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hoof. The dull ache behind them was growing, the kind that came from staring at a tiny script for too long under the flickering glow of candlelight. The legend of Nightmare Moon had sunk its hooks into her mind, and no matter how many rational arguments she threw at it, the unease refused to loosen its grip. She wasn’t one to put stock in fairy tales. She was not a superstitious pony; she didn't believe in monsters of fantasy or old mare tales, nor was she frightened by them. She knew they weren't real, and legends were just legends.

But this one was different.

It had started a week ago, with an innocuous gift from Princess Celestia: a beautifully bound book filled with ancient myths. The kind of thing Twilight would normally devour in a single sitting and then promptly forget. But one passage had lingered, heavy and unshakable. The prophecy, and the endless night it promised. The timing is so uncomfortably close to the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration—the thousandth one, no less. It wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be, she refused to believe it was.

Her mentor’s assurances echoed in her head: “It’s just a story, Twilight.” But Twilight had seen the flicker of something in Celestia’s eyes. A hesitation. A pause too long before the words came. That wasn’t nothing. Yet that was almost all she found about this story, absolute nothing, nothing beyond speculations upon speculations and mere references to more legends. It was so frustrating she wanted to scream and tear the book of legends that caused this plight to fall on her.

Spike’s soft snores drew her gaze and made her let go of that plan. The baby dragon lay sprawled atop a mountain of discarded books, one leg hanging off the edge, twitching in his sleep. Twilight’s chest tightened with a pang of guilt. He’d tried to keep up with her frantic pace, but exhaustion had won out hours ago. She couldn’t blame him. Part of her longed to join him, to close her eyes just for a moment. But she shoved the thought aside. This was too important. Sleep could wait. But her assistant didn't have to suffer a cold night because of it. Gently, Twilight brought a soft blanket and covered the young drake with it. Hopefully, that was enough.

The next book was old. Really old. Its cover was cracked and faded, the title long worn away. Twilight hesitated, brushing her hoof gently across its surface, feeling the bumps and ridges of long-forgotten symbols. When she opened it, a musty, ancient smell wafted up, thick and earthy. She inhaled deeply, a habit she’d picked up somewhere along the way. The scent of knowledge, she called it.

What she hadn’t expected was the text inside. No familiar script. No easy translation spells flickering to life. The words were carved into the pages, deep and deliberate, etched in flowing draconic runes, a further testament to this book's age. Twilight’s brow furrowed. Books in the royal archives were supposed to be enchanted, readable by anypony. But this one… this one felt like it had been hidden, an unwanted remnant kept for reasons she couldn't fathom.

Nonetheless, her curiosity peaked, and a flicker of hope ran through her. Her pulse quickened as she summoned a translation guide from a nearby shelf. The process was slow and painstaking. Each rune had to be cross-referenced and matched to an Equestrian equivalent. But bit by bit, meaning emerged. It, too, spoke of the Moonlit Dawn, but this one had something the others didn't: a treasure hidden deep, a reward for her efforts. A name: ‘ᛉᚮᚮᚿ’.

“Månen,” she whispered, the word rolling awkwardly off her tongue. It translated roughly to “Luna” in the modern language.

“Moon.” Twilight snorted. More by the whimsy of exhaustion than actual amusement “Real creative.” But…the way it was used in the text made her pause. It wasn’t just a name. It was a presence, a constant as if this ‘Luna’ wasn't a character made for the legend but an established being of great importance; the book spoke of her ‘uniting with her domain, neither alone any longer’. But, what did that mean? Was this ‘Luna’, the pony that Nightmare Moon was before her betrayal? If so, why was there no mention of her anywhere else?

Twilight’s ears drooped as frustration bubbled up again. Just as she thought she got rid of one mystery, as soon as she thought she had some sort of lead, a new mystery unfolded. She thumped her head against the desk, the wood cool against her forehead. She was running out of time. The celebration was just after tomorrow, and she had nothing concrete to show for all her sleepless nights. Confronting Princess Celestia directly felt inevitable now. But how? What could she say that hadn’t already been brushed aside? And worse, what if she was wrong? No, no…what if she was right? She suddenly found herself too tired and afraid to think of what being right would lead to.

For now, though, just a moment, perhaps she can rest and think of what to do later. Just one moment to rest her eyes, and then she'll get back to work. The candlelight blurred as her eyelids grew heavy, the room fading into soft shadows. The desk was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe… maybe just a minute.

As her breathing slowed, the library fell silent, save for the soft snores of both a dragon and a pony.

———————————————

The road stretched endlessly before them, a ribbon of well-worn earth winding through the rolling hills of Equestria’s countryside. Its surface, hardened by countless hoof steps and wagon wheels, was peppered with stones that glinted faintly in the golden light of dawn. The sky above was an ever-changing canvas, bathed in hues of amber, rose, and pale lilac as if nature itself celebrated the beginning of a new day. Gentle wisps of mist clung to the low-lying fields, dissipating slowly as the sun’s warmth began to touch the land.

The scent of wildflowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the road, created a heady perfume. Clusters of daisies, buttercups, and cornflowers swayed in the morning breeze, their vibrant petals like splashes of paint against the verdant backdrop. Somewhere in the distance, the faint trill of a lark added a melodic undercurrent to the scene, its song rising and falling in harmony with the creaking of the wagon wheels.

The wagon itself was a testament to both craftsmanship and resilience. Its sturdy frame, built from dark oak and reinforced with iron, bore the wear of countless journeys. Each nick and scratch on its surface told a story of adventures past, of storms weathered and trails conquered. The carvings etched by curious young hooves—stars, hearts, and crooked flowers—added a touch of whimsy, a reminder that even the most utilitarian objects could hold moments of joy.

At the front, Coal Flint walked with a steady, unhurried gait, his dark slate coat shimmering faintly in the early light. His mane, thick and streaked with silver of age and work, was pulled back in a simple yet functional style. His eyes, a steely grey softened by age, scanned the horizon as he walked in a relaxed gait; it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last time they go through this road, they had to visit Ponyville at least once every 3 months for trade, but this time it was for a vacation rather than work.

Beside him, Spark Flint trotted with a youthful energy that contrasted his father’s measured pace. His deep maroon coat gleamed with a healthy sheen, and his dark brown mane, unruly despite his best efforts, fluttered in the breeze. Though he mimicked his father’s posture, there was a barely contained eagerness in his movements, as if he wanted to get to the town as fast as he could. He, like most of them, was eager to arrive as soon as possible.

Behind them, Marigold sat near the centre, her sunny yellow coat glowing in the warm light. Her mane, a cascade of orange curls, was tied back with a simple ribbon that seemed to catch the breeze. She hummed a soft tune as she worked, her voice low and soothing. Despite the comb clenched between her teeth, her melody retained a lilting, melodic quality, like a lullaby carried on the wind. It did help that she used her wings as a small source of shade.

Petal Breeze, seated in front of her mother, shifted restlessly under the gentle tug of the comb. Her pale vanilla coat shimmered clean and soft. Her green eyes, bright and inquisitive, darted between her mother and her brother, reflecting mild irritation. She wrinkled her nose as Marigold untangled a particularly stubborn knot but said nothing, choosing instead to focus on her brother.

Ember, perched at the wagon’s edge, was a bundle of barely contained energy. His fiery orange mane seemed to glow. It had fallen to the back, lifted slightly by the breeze as he craned his neck, pointing excitedly at the clouds. His wings, still small and eager to be used, twitched with anticipation, mirroring the restless excitement that radiated from him. He squinted into the sunlight, his expression one of slight anger and irritation that mirrored his older twin.

“I’m telling you, the cloud‘s shaped like a phoenix!” Ember’s voice, high-pitched and insistent, cut through the quiet. He jabbed a hoof skyward, eyes wide with conviction. “Look at the wings! They’re huge!”

Petal Breeze sighed, tired of a conversation that she had for what must have been the thousandth time “It’s just a cloud, Ember.” She leaned back, tilting her head to get a better look. “You always see things that aren’t there. Remember last week? You thought a pile of rocks was a dragon.”

Ember huffed, folding his forelegs across his chest. “It could have been a dragon.”

Luna, seated near a stack of hay bales, watched the exchange with quiet amusement. Her deep navy blue coat stood in striking contrast to the warm tones around her, and her mane, long and set loose, cascaded down in tints of faded bright cyan, closer to white as it neared the tips. The cool morning breeze played with the loose strands, sending them dancing across her face. Her wings, though folded neatly at her sides, twitched occasionally, betraying her own restlessness. Like the young Ember, she wanted to stretch her wings and fly, even if she just sat down to rest from her shift. The sleeping mare that lay against her side, Tempere, did not seem to share that feeling.

A soft snort escaped her, too amused to conceal it, a sound that drew both foals’ attention. Petal Breeze frowned, while Ember’s eyes lit up with renewed enthusiasm.

“See? Luna agrees with me!” Ember beamed, his wings fluttering excitedly. “It is a phoenix!”

Petal Breeze looked at her brother as if he had grown a second head, tilting her head in confusion before it got pulled back by her mother. She let out a frustrated snort before she rolled her eyes. “She just snorted, doofus.”

Luna chuckled softly, amused by the bickering of young siblings. It brought back good memories. “Perhaps,” she mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Or perhaps I simply enjoy the idea of a phoenix gracing us with its presence.” Her gaze lifted to the cloud in question, studying its contours with a critical eye. After a moment, she smirked. Perhaps “On second thought, it looks more like a manticore.”

Ember’s face fell, and he let out a groan of frustration. Petal Breeze, for her part, looked genuinely puzzled, squinting at the sky in an attempt to see what Luna saw.

“A manticore?” Petal Breeze wrinkled her nose. “How do you even see that?”

Luna’s smile deepened a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Imagination, dear Petal. The world is full of shapes and stories if you only know where to look.”

Ember perked up at that, his earlier frustration forgotten. “See? I told you! It’s all about imagination!” He bounced slightly on his haunches, wings flaring out briefly before folding back again. “What else do you see, Luna?”

Luna leaned back, resting her weight against the hay bales. She let her gaze wander across the sky, the warmth of the sun a gentle balm against her tired muscles. “Hm… there,” she pointed to a cluster of clouds near the horizon. “That one looks like a castle. And over there—a griffon, soaring above the towers.”

Ember followed her hoof, his eyes wide with awe. “I see it! The Griffon's wings are huge!” Luna almost asked him how he agreed when he had never seen a griffon in his life but decided against it as she saw the wonder and smile on his face.

Petal Breeze, despite herself, smiled. “Okay, I’ll admit, that one does look like a castle.” She turned back to her mother “What do you think, Mom?

Marigold, who let go of the comb when Petal turned to look into the sky, did the same as the two foals and hummed for a moment “Hm, I think that its silly to imagine what clouds might look like when there are ponies who can shape them….buuuut if you must know, I think it looks like a cat.”

Whatever response the children gave, Luna didn't hear. She zoned out as she stared at the morning sky. For all the comfort she felt, she couldn't truly ignore the dread within her. Ponyville was the host town this year, out of all years. Her sister will be there.

Would she recognize her? Most likely, even with all that changed, Luna didn't exactly blend in with the other ponies, even after the loss of her horn. She was still too large, and her cutie mark was a dead giveaway. Did she want to be recognized? Maybe, Luna wasn't sure herself. Whatever it was, things have changed. She wasn't alone as she was in the old days. She had a new family, friends, and all the other things she lacked all those centuries ago.

Still, she did think of her sister every now and then. She can't just forget about everything they went through, nor could she forget what she went through, no matter how much she wanted to good or bad. Soon enough, she lost herself to the rhythm of travel, a second shift flew by, and she hadn't even remembered waking Tempere, or if she was the one to wake her up. Was it her? Or one of the twins? She didn't know, nor notice. The others noticed, but they were used to her oddities and zoning out by now.

It wasn't long before they arrived at Ponyville. The small town was busier than ever, with guests coming from other towns to attend the festival, for many of the initial celebrations occurred on the night before the celebration, an insult that Luna's anger still flared by.

As she separated from the rest to walk around the town, she was surprised to see a cute young mare covered in mud, get drenched in rain by courtesy of Rainbow Dash, then there was the young drake accompanying the new mare. Curious, and wishing to greet a friend she went to check it out.

———————————————

Twilight bit back the groan bubbling in her throat, her jaw tightening as rivulets of water dripped from her mane and tail. The path beneath her hooves had turned to mud in spots, thanks to the Rainbow-maned culprit hovering before her. Her mane, usually neat and straight, now clung to her face in sodden, limp strands, and the cool water dripped steadily from her muzzle onto the packed dirt. She opened her mouth to voice her irritation—something cutting but not overly harsh—but the Pegasus was already off again.

In a blur of vibrant colour, the mare whipped around Twilight, the wind from her rapid flight tousling the unicorn’s drenched fur. Despite her annoyance, Twilight couldn’t help but marvel, for the briefest of moments, at the sheer precision of the mare’s flight. The tight radius she maintained and the speed at which she moved were remarkable. Pegasi trained for years to achieve such control in the air. But any flicker of admiration Twilight felt was short-lived, obliterated as she felt her mane poof up in a wild, frizzy explosion.

The Pegasus skidded to a halt, landing with an exaggerated flourish. Her chest puffed out in a display of self-satisfaction, and her magenta eyes sparkled with mischief as she surveyed her ‘hoofwork.’

“How about my very own patented Rain-Blow Dry! No need to thank me—you’re quite welcome.” Her voice was brimming with confidence, her grin as wide as the horizon.

As her gaze finally settled on Twilight’s mane, her confident face cracked, as amusement seeped in and then she burst into raucous laughter. Tears welled up in her eyes as she doubled over, pointing a hoof at Twilight as though the unicorn’s appearance was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

Spike, standing just off to the side, didn’t take long to join her. The little dragon’s laughter rang out in a high-pitched wheeze as he clutched his stomach, stumbling slightly under the force of his mirth.

Twilight’s patience, already stretched thin, was fraying at the edges. She drew in a deep breath, just wishing to get this over with, when another voice a new voice cut through the laughter like a blade of calm against chaos.

“Well, well, Rainbow Dash. I didn’t know you’d taken up mane styling.” The tone was smooth and even, carrying just the faintest hint of amusement. “Although,” the voice added after a beat, “you might want to keep your ‘work’ far away from Rarity. She’ll have a heart attack.”

The laughter subsided as Twilight turned towards the source of the voice. Her irritation gave way to wide-eyed curiosity as she took in the sight of what must have been the tallest mare after Princess Celestia and Cadance, approaching them with a smile on her face.

Her coat was a rich, deep navy blue that seemed to drink in the sunlight, smooth and sleek, with just a faint sheen that spoke of a Pegasus who took care of herself. Her mane was a smooth if slightly poofy cascade of cyan tints that grew brighter towards the tips, where they turned to shimmering white. Her wings, folded at her sides, shared this gradient effect albeit with the darker tints of the navy blue coat, the feathers tinged at the edges with soft, white hues.

Twilight’s gaze travelled upward, meeting the mare’s eyes—piercing turquoise orbs. There was something curious about her expression, an unasked question lingering in the way she tilted her head ever so slightly. A question that Twilight didn't get, but she doubted it was asked to her anyway.

Rainbow Dash brightened visibly at the sight of the newcomer but was quick to frown as the words registered. “Ha ha, very funny,” she said with a mock pout, sticking her tongue out like a petulant foal. “I was just trying to help.”

Twilight let out a groan, loud and unapologetic this time, drawing the attention of both Pegasi. It was time to get this over with.

“Shouldn’t you be clearing the sky?” Twilight asked, directing her question at Rainbow Dash with a pointed glare. She immediately regretted her tone and words, realising how rude and accusatory it had sounded. Clearing her throat and softening her voice with some remorse, she quickly added, “I’m sorry. My name is Twilight Sparkle. The Princess sent me to oversee the preparations, and I noticed the sky still isn’t clear.”

At the mention of the Princess, Twilight noticed a subtle reaction from the tall mare. It was fleeting—a faint twitch of her wings and a slight narrowing of her eyes—but enough to spark Twilight’s curiosity.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, merely shrugged, reclining lazily on a nearby cloud she had dragged down. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to it in a jiffy. I’m just… practicing.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, her irritation mounting. “Practicing? Practising for what?”

“The Wonderbolts,” the taller Pegasus interjected, her voice calm but with a faint undercurrent of exasperation. “She thinks if she shows off enough, they’ll recruit her on the spot.”

Twilight blinked, taken aback. “The Wonderbolts?”

“Yep!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, puffing out her chest with pride. “Fastest flyers in Equestria. I only need to show them my stuff and they'll- HEY NOT LIKE THAT!” she said with a blush. Ah, Twilight's own blush as she thought about what Rainbow said must have been visible.

Twilight felt her cheeks flush even more at Rainbow’s flustered glare. Clearing her throat, she decided to play her own hoof and go back to the topic. “You expect to join the Wonderbolts when you can’t even clear the sky?”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed, her apparent competitive spirit flaring. Forgetting all about her embarrassment “Oh yeah? I can clear this sky in ten seconds flat!”

Twilight tilted her head, feigning scepticism. “Prove it.”

Rainbow Dash grinned, her confidence practically radiating off her. “You’re on!”

With a burst of energy, the Pegasus shot off into the sky, her rainbow-coloured contrail streaking across the blue like a comet. She was a blur of motion, kicking apart clouds with precision and speed that left Twilight’s mouth agape. She barely had time to count before Rainbow was back, hovering smugly above the now-pristine sky.

“See? Ten seconds flat,” Rainbow declared, crossing her hooves and giving Twilight a triumphant smirk. She had an air of arrogance that unfortunately seemed to be rightfully deserved.

Twilight’s jaw hung open for a moment before she felt a soft feather nudge her chin, gently closing her mouth. Startled, she turned to find the tall mare standing beside her, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” the mare said, her voice low and thoughtful. “Rainbow Dash may talk a lot, but she backs it up. Well…most of it that is.”

Twilight nodded mutely, still in awe of what she’d just witnessed and couldn't help but still be focused on the now clear sky. But her attention did drift back to the other mare as she extended a hoof, her movements graceful and deliberate. “I’m Luna. A pleasure to meet you, Twilight Sparkle.”

The name hit like a thunderclap as Twilight's mind reeled to the name etched in runes. Luna. The name was unmistakable, but it couldn’t be. This mare was a Pegasus, not an Alicorn. And yet, there was something about her—her stature, her calm confidence, the crescent moon cutie mark.

Twilight hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but she quickly took the offered hoof. “Uh, a pleasure to meet you too, Luna.”

The mare’s eyes sparkled with something unreadable—amusement? Curiosity? She gave Twilight a nod before glancing skyward. “I’ll make sure Rainbow keeps the sky clear, Ms Sparkle. Go ahead and focus on your other tasks.”

“O-Oh no, I can't do that. You don't need to bother yourself really, plus I doubt that it will take any time for her to get the job done if more clouds drift here.”

Luna simply smiled and shook her head. “it's not a bother, truly. I've been itching for a good flight. Also, you'd be surprised by the mess that Rainbow makes compared to the ones that she cleans.”

With that, Luna spread her wings and launched herself into the air, her form cutting gracefully through the blue expanse, it didn't take her long to catch up to Rainbow Dash who took to flying higher above to do some moves.

Twilight stared after her for a long moment, her thoughts swirling like a storm. Could she really be that Luna? It didn’t make sense, and yet…

Spike’s voice snapped her back to reality; she must have zoned out. For how long? She didn't know. “Weather’s done!”

Twilight turned to see her assistant smirking knowingly, quill in claw as he marked off the box on the checklist.

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. What was he so smug about? Amused, sure she can chalk it up to the pile of poof she had for a mane, but smugness?

“Nothing,” Spike said with an exaggerated air of innocence. “Just saying—it’s done.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but as she turned towards the boutique that housed decorations, her mind remained preoccupied. She really needed to get everything over with and get to the library.

1.5: interlude: Tibbles the Tyrant

Author's Note

Soo...this blew up unexpectedly.

I am truly grateful for all the support this fic has gotten despite it being less than a week old. I didn't expect this in my wildest dreams...which is why I had this chaotic chapter ready when I wrote the first one, just as a chaos dump, but I feel that you all deserve to have it so soon.

Again, I am very thankful for everything. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

1.5: interlude: Tibbles the Tyrant

Tempere trotted toward the Carousel Boutique, a small bag of shimmering gems clutched in her mouth, courtesy of her mother. The bag was soft but firm, the edges slightly digging into the side of her cheek, but she hardly noticed. She had other things on her mind—like the dull ache in her head from being woken up by her sister’s annoyingly persistent possum. The little creature had nipped her ear just as she had managed to drift back to sleep, and ever since, Tempere had been fighting the urge to grumble, her mind replaying a string of colourful curses. Of course, being raised in a community where the presence of foals was more often not, she kept the words inside, but that didn’t stop them from swirling around in her thoughts like a storm.

Not that her mood would stay foul for long. She knew that a visit to Rarity’s would lift her spirits. The boutique was always full of life and colour—just stepping through the door made her feel like she was walking into a painting. She wasn’t sure what it was about Rarity, but the white unicorn had this uncanny ability to make everything seem brighter even more than Pinkie Pie did. Not that she would ever admit it out loud, not when Rarity had a reputation for being slightly dramatic. In fact, “slightly” was a gross understatement. Tempere had lost count of the number of times she’d had to sit through one of Rarity’s impassioned rants about something being out of fashion. But, despite the occasional fits, Rarity was also calm in ways other ponies in town weren’t. Stable? Maybe not, but there was a steady rhythm to the way she carried herself. Tempere liked it. She liked Rarity, plain and simple. No need for an explanation—she just did.

The sound of the bell ringing as she entered snapped her out of her
thoughts. She lifted her head up to see where the white unicorn was, only to find an empty room full of decorations. She paused for a moment and contemplated looking for her somewhere else, but then she heard the muffled sound of Rarity’s ‘enchanted rambling’ voice. Opting to get some fun, and to save whatever poor pony that found themselves under the grasp of ‘Rarity the terrible’.

It didn’t take long for her to see the commotion upstairs. There was a poor lavender unicorn who did not look too happy about being subjected to whatever Rarity was doing.

”Emerald? What was I thinking about? Let me get you some Rubie- OH! Tempere darling, when did you get here?”

Tempere fully entered the room with an amused look, dropping the bag of gems from her mouth onto the nearest counter. “Just now,” she said, her voice tinged with dry humour. “But I see you’ve got your hooves full. Should I come back later, or would you like me to rescue your guest?”

The lavender unicorn shot Tempere a grateful glance, her lips twitching as though she wanted to plead for help but was too polite to say so.

“Oh, no need for heroics, darling,” Rarity replied with a wave of her hoof. “Twilight here is simply helping me brainstorm ideas for her celebration attire. Isn’t that right, Twilight?”

The unicorn, now identified as Twilight, gave a stiff nod. “Yes, although I didn’t exactly volunteer for—”

“Nonsense!” Rarity interjected, cutting Twilight off with the grace of a conductor silencing an orchestra. “You’re a mare of style, Twilight. I could see it the moment you walked through my door. I simply must ensure you’re dressed appropriately for the festivities.”

Tempere leaned casually against the doorframe, her turquoise eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed mirth. “Style, huh? Is that what we’re calling it?” she teased, gesturing vaguely at Twilight’s overdone mane.

Twilight’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she glared at Tempere in exasperation. “I didn’t ask for this,” she muttered under her breath, clearly embarrassed.

Rarity, who was still under the influence of her design highs, turned her attention back to the bag of gems Tempere had brought. Her magic enveloped the pouch, and she opened it with a delicate flourish. The gems within caught the light, casting vibrant reflections across the room.

“Oh, these are simply divine!” Rarity exclaimed, her earlier frazzled energy transforming into something akin to reverence. “Your mother never ceases to amaze me with her selections. These will be perfect for the accents I’ve been planning.”

Tempere smiled faintly, glad her friend enjoyed the gift. “Mum has a good eye for quality,” she said. “She mentioned you’d been asking for specific cuts. Figured I’d deliver them myself since I needed an excuse to stretch my wings.”

Rarity, who looked sceptical as soon as she heard the second part, simply raised a single eyebrow before she beamed. “Well, do thank her for me, darling. And you, of course. You’ve saved me a trip to the market, and I daresay I owe you for that.”

Tempere shrugged; she didn't think that it was worth mentioning. Rarity was their top customer in this town when it came to gems after all. “No need for that. Just happy to help.”

Before Rarity could respond, Twilight cleared her throat, drawing both mares’ attention. “If it’s all the same to you,” she said, her tone measured but firm, “I think I’ll take my leave. There are still a few preparations I need to oversee before tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Rarity said quickly, her magic already smoothing down Twilight’s mane in an attempt to restore some semblance of normalcy. It worked splendidly, or so Tempere thought. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your duties, Twilight. But do promise you’ll consider my suggestions for your ensemble?”

Twilight gave a tight-lipped smile, clearly eager to escape. “I’ll think about it,” she said, edging toward the door.

Tempere watched as Twilight descended the stairs, her movements quick and efficient, as though she were afraid Rarity might change her mind and drag her back. Once the front door closed with a soft click, the rosewood-coated mare turned back to Rarity, one eyebrow arched.

“She’s an interesting one,” Tempere remarked. “Not from around here, I take it?”

Rarity sighed wistfully, returning to her workbench where she began sorting through the gems. “No, she’s from Canterlot. Personal protégé of Princess Celestia, no less. Imagine the pressure! I can hardly blame her for being a touch... rigid.”

Tempere hummed in agreement, her gaze wandering to the window. The early noon sun bathed the boutique in warm light, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax. Something was soothing about the quiet rhythm of Rarity’s workspace—the gentle hum of magic, the soft clink of gems against one another, the faint rustle of fabric being arranged just so. It was a stark contrast to the chaos she’d witnessed earlier.

“Now, since the guest has left,” Rarity began, her tone saccharine sweet, “might I ask what you were about to do?” She tilted her head ever so slightly, the perfect picture of polite curiosity, though the arch of her brow betrayed her suspicion.

Tempere snorted softly, her amusement thinly veiled. “About to do? You’ll need to be a bit more specific, Rarity. You’re speaking in riddles again.”

“Oh, please, darling,” Rarity replied with an exaggerated wave of her hoof. “We both know your mother would have loved to deliver those gems herself. What were you up to this time?”

Tempere straightened up, feigning a look of innocent indignation. She even placed a hoof to her chest for added effect, though the flicker of a smirk at the corner of her mouth suggested she wasn’t all that committed to the act. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice laced with mock offence.

Rarity’s expression didn’t falter. Her knowing gaze pierced through Tempere’s defences like a needle through the fabric, leaving no room for denial. Tempere sighed, letting her shoulders sag in defeat. She spends too much time with this mare. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone begrudging. “I was about to test Luna’s capacity for forgiveness if her oh-so-dear ‘Tibbles’ were to, say, mysteriously meet with a tragic accident.”

Rarity’s laughter bubbled up instantly, light and melodic, filling the boutique like a chiming bell. “Not terribly high, I would imagine,” she said between giggles. “What did he do this time?”

Tempere’s eyes darkened, and her wings gave an irritated twitch at the memory. “What didn’t he do?” she grumbled, her voice taking on an edge. “I don’t know what I did to deserve his eternal wrath, but that damned possum hates me. I was just about to fall asleep—finally—and he bit me. On the ear!”

Rarity’s perfectly coiffed mane bobbed slightly as she tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Sleep? At this time of day? My dear Tempere, you’ve hardly earned a nap yet.”

“We live in a mountain,” Tempere shot back, her tone dry as a desert plain. “And we came here dragging a wagon. Sue me for being tired.”

Rarity’s laughter resumed, though this time it was softer, more indulgent. “Oh, darling,” she said, shaking her head. “I do admire your resilience. Though I must admit, I’m curious—did you consider why Tiberius might have taken such offence to your existence?”

Tempere rolled her eyes, her frustration evident. “Oh, sure. I’ve spent countless hours pondering the deep mysteries of a possum’s grudge,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe I offended his sense of decorum by not bowing before him like the little tyrant he is.”

Rarity giggled again, her magic flicking a stray thread off the counter as she turned to sort through her latest fabric swatches. “Perhaps he’s simply testing your patience. A trial by fire, if you will.”

“More like a trial by teeth,” Tempere muttered under her breath, her ears still faintly burning from the memory of Tiberius’s sharp nip. She sat down heavily on one of the boutique’s plush cushions, letting out a long, weary sigh. “Honestly, Rarity, I don’t know how Luna puts up with him, let alone adore him. I thought the owls were bad before but that possum is a menace!”

Rarity hummed softly as she worked, her horn glowing faintly as she guided a roll of shimmering fabric across her workbench. “Well, that he might be,” she said, her tone light but with a trace of sympathy, “but I do think telling on him would be the better option. Or perhaps enlisting the twins to take care of him? They seem resourceful.”

At that, Tempere felt a sly smile curve her lips. The very thought of involving Petal and Ember in her ongoing battle with Luna’s possum brought a flicker of satisfaction to her tired mind. “Why, Rarity,” she said, mock-affronted, her voice dripping with faux drama, “you wound me. Do you think I’ve not already considered that? I’ve notioned the idea to Petal and Ember. That little menace is about to get a taste of his own medicine.”

Rarity raised a perfectly shaped brow, her expression hovering somewhere between amusement and mild concern. She said nothing, but the slight quirk of her lips suggested she was at least entertained by the idea of the twins taking on the possum.

After a moment, Rarity turned back to her work, the gleam of her magic catching the light as she began trimming the edges of her fabric. “Whatever it might be,” she said smoothly, “I’m afraid I must return to the town hall soon. The decorations still need to be set, and time waits for no mare.”

Tempere shifted, stretching her wings slightly before settling back into her seat. “Would you like some company?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes hinting at a desire for distraction. The thought of lingering in the boutique, even in Rarity’s pleasant company, wasn’t quite appealing enough to stave off her growing fatigue. A change of scenery might help. If it didn't, she could at least say that she tried.

Rarity glanced at her with a smile, her eyes softening at the offer. “I would, darling. Though I must warn you, it’s not terribly exciting work. Just hanging ribbons and garlands, mostly.”

Tempere shrugged as she stood, shaking out her mane. “Excitement isn’t what I’m after. Just protect me with a wall of gems if I fall asleep or something.”

Rarity chuckled, her laugh as refined as always. “Noted, darling. A wall of gems it is, should the need arise.”

Tempere simply smiled at her friend as she descended the stairs after her. More eager and energetic than she was mere moments ago. Perhaps she’ll have a good amount of fun before Pinkie pulls a party for whatever occasion she saw fit.

———————————————

Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, third of his name—or as the ponies called him, Angel Bunny—lived what could only be described as a life befitting his greatness. He had the most doting, gentle caretaker, a mare who ranked leagues above any other pony in Equestria. Fluttershy, as she was known to others, was kind, tender-hearted, and—most importantly—completely besotted with him. Yes, he had to share her attention with other animals, but it was painfully clear to anyone with eyes that he was her favourite. This wasn’t conjecture. This was fact.

Still, his idyllic existence wasn’t without its trials. No, it fell to him to maintain the delicate order of their shared home. His was the paw that kept the ever-growing throng of lesser beasts in line, the sentinel who enforced discipline. The timid pegasus needed him. Without Angel, chaos would reign supreme, and the menagerie she so carefully cultivated would descend into anarchy.

Or so he liked to think.

Recently, however, his duties as the regulator of this small slice of Equestria had been overshadowed by a far more pressing concern: his nemesis, his eternal rival, the bane of his existence. No, not the Rainbow pest, but his enemy for life, Tiberius the Conqueror. The mere thought of the possum’s name sent a ripple of disdain through Angel’s very being.

That insufferable vermin had committed the ultimate trifecta of offences. First, Tiberius had trespassed into Angel’s territory, barging into his sanctuary as though it were a public thoroughfare. Second, the rodent had dared to interrupt Angel’s dinner—a meal painstakingly selected and prepared by his Fluttershy. Third, he nearly caused him to be trampled by lesser vermin. And finally, the pièce de résistance, Tiberius had stolen said dinner right out from under his nose.

Each of these crimes, egregious in their own right, was grounds for retaliation. But together? Together, they were nothing short of an act of war.

And war, naturally, had been declared.

This was how Angel found himself perched atop one of the twin vermin, Petal, as she galloped full tilt through the meadow, her hooves barely touching the ground, courtesy of the constant jumps she had to make due to the protruding roots of the trees. Angel clung to her mane with one paw, his other paw held aloft like a general rallying his troops. It wasn’t every day that the twins—those bumbling agents of chaos—proved useful, but today was an exception. Their past transgressions—knocking over his carefully curated stash of carrots, chasing him across the garden, and other such indignities—had been pardoned in exchange for their service in this noble endeavour.

“Hey! Petal, wait up!” came a breathless voice from behind. Her twin, Ember, was lagging, his words broken by the sound of desperate panting. Angel twisted to glance back at the colt and couldn't suppress a snicker. It was embarrassing, really, the way he struggled to keep up. A disappointment to all quadrupeds.

“I can’t!” Petal shouted, her voice tinged with both urgency and irritation. “Unless you want to be the one to tell Luna that we lost Tibbles, we have to catch him!”

At that, Angel couldn’t help but laugh, the sound coming out in a series of sharp, triumphant squeaks. Tibbles. What a ridiculous name for such a pest. The title of “Conqueror” had been bestowed by Angel himself, albeit sarcastically. The possum’s sheer audacity demanded recognition, even if it was begrudging. But “Tibbles”? That was just icing on the cake.

Ahead of them, Tiberius darted through the underbrush with infuriating agility, his sleek, wiry frame weaving between tree roots and bushes like a serpent. His beady eyes gleamed with mischief, and Angel swore he could see the smug twitch of the possum’s tail as it disappeared into the tall grass.

Petal leapt over a fallen log, her pace unwavering. “He’s heading for the riverbank!” she called over her shoulder.

Angel’s ears perked up. The riverbank was a dead end. With its steep embankments and rushing waters, there’d be nowhere for Tiberius to run. The rodent would be cornered like the coward he was. The thought sent a surge of satisfaction through Angel. Victory was within his grasp.

“Faster!” he barked, his squeaky voice full of authority. Petal didn’t respond verbally, but her ears flicked back in acknowledgement, or so he hoped. Unfortunately, it was fate's cruel way of making the caretaker of his rival be the only other who could understand him besides Fluttershy. Nonetheless, she pushed herself harder, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. Behind them, Ember let out a wheezy groan, clearly struggling to match his sister’s pace.

“You’re slowing us down!” Petal snapped, glancing back with a glare.

“I’m—trying—okay?” Ember huffed, his legs moving in what could generously be called a gallop. Angel rolled his eyes. If the colt couldn’t keep up, he had no business being part of this mission.

The riverbank came into view, the sound of rushing water growing louder with each passing second. Tiberius was mere strides ahead now, his movements growing more frantic as he realised the trap closing around him. Petal skidded to a halt at the edge of the embankment, her hooves digging into the dirt. Angel leapt from her back, landing with practised precision on a nearby rock. He puffed out his chest, his ears standing tall as he prepared to confront his nemesis.

Yet, something was off. Across the way, Tiberius stood poised at the water’s edge, his wiry tail flicking lazily as though this was a mere afternoon stroll, all previous panic gone. His beady eyes scanned the scene, assessing Angel, the twins, and the situation with a calm that bordered on infuriating. For a long, drawn-out moment, their gazes locked. The world around them dissolved into nothingness. There was no Fluttershy, no Ponyville, no meadow—just the electric tension of two sworn enemies on the precipice of war.

Angel’s nose twitched, his whiskers bristling with disdain. He narrowed his eyes into icy slits, his little paw curling into a fist. This was it. The moment of reckoning. His time for vengeance had finally arrived. Then Tiberius acted, and ruined it all.

With a flash of his bushy tail and a defiant smirk, the possum leapt into the rushing waters.

It was madness. No, it was brilliance. Angel watched, his jaw slack in a mixture of horror and begrudging admiration, as Tiberius was about to be swept downstream. But fate—ever the fickle mistress—was not done yet. From above, an owl swooped down with impeccable precision, talons outstretched. The bird snatched Tiberius mid-air, lifting him from the chaos of the current with a nonchalance that made it clear this was not its first rodeo.

Angel could only watch as his nemesis was carried effortlessly across the river, the owl depositing him on the far bank like some royal envoy being delivered to a victory feast.

The possum stood, shaking off a few stray feathers with an almost leisurely air. Then he turned, and with infuriating composure, locked eyes with Angel once more. Slowly, deliberately, Tiberius reached into his tiny stash—the very food he had stolen—and took a smug bite.

Then, to make matters infinitely worse, he spoke.

“You’ve lost your touch, Caligula,” Tiberius said, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Not only do you rely on children for aid, but you still fail miserably. How far have you fallen? It's almost a shame to be your enemy, almost. But it is still a tragedy is it not?”

Angel felt his blood boil, his vision narrowing until all he could see was that damned smug expression. Tiberius’s voice droned on, some mocking diatribe about Angel’s diminished prowess, but Angel heard none of it. There was no sound, no river, no birdsong. There was only rage—pure, unbridled rage.

With a squeak of fury that could have roused the sun itself, Angel whirled around, leaping from the capable back of Petal to the bumbling frame of Ember. The colt yelped in confusion as Angel yanked on his mane, directing him like an unskilled but determined jockey.

“What—what’s happening?!” Ember cried, his voice cracking as he scrambled to regain control.

“Just run!” Petal shouted, sounding as confused as her brother.

Angel tugged again, and to his credit, Ember finally got the message. With a shrill whinny of alarm, the colt launched into a gallop. His wings flared open as he caught the wind, and within seconds, the pair were airborne, soaring above the riverbank.

Below them, Tiberius watched their ascent with a look of mild amusement. His tail flicked once, twice, and then, like the slippery fiend he was, he bolted. His legs moved in a blur as he darted into the underbrush, disappearing into the labyrinth of trees and shadows.

Good. Let him run. The hunt was on.

Angel’s whiskers twitched with anticipation, a fierce grin splitting his face. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. One way or another, Tiberius would pay. For the food, for the insults, for everything.

And this time, Angel vowed, there would be no escape.

2: Summer Sun Celebration part-2-

Dear Princess Celestia,

A matter of utter importance has come to my attention—a matter that could spell danger not only for Equestria but for all of Equis. As you well know, the 1000th Summer Sun Celebration is just beyond the horizon, and with it, the world inches closer to the fulfilment of a most concerning prophecy: The Return of Nightmare Moon.

How long has it been since she thought of that name?

At first, I was inclined to dismiss such a threat as mere fiction. As you are well aware, Princess, I struggle to place faith in tales as old and fantastical as these. However, the book of legends you provided me did not merely mention the Nightmare. ‘’Don’t call her that,’’ Celestia thought bitterly as she read the words; oh, how she wanted to say those words verbally to her student at the time. Her heart still ached at the reality behind the name. But no, she couldn’t correct Twilight, not yet, not without opening the floodgates of a truth long buried.

Twilight’s letter had continued with its usual blend of logic and fervour:

At first, I dismissed the notion of Nightmare Moon’s return entirely, finding my attention drawn instead to the concept of the Elements of Harmony, which the book described with tantalising brevity. The name seemed faintly familiar, a vague memory I could not place. My curiosity led me to investigate further, and it was in doing so that I found the prophecy—one that speaks of her return and promises eternal night.

Her words were logical, meticulously reasoned, and yet underpinned with a palpable sense of urgency that pained Celestia every time she thought about it.

I could not delay further, and thus I asked Spike to transcribe this letter to you immediately. What should we do, Princess? How should I prepare?

Sincerely, your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

Celestia remembered how she had read and reread the letter, her golden aura faltering ever so slightly as it held the parchment aloft. A bittersweet pang settled in her chest as she imagined Twilight penning those words, the young mare’s bright mind sparking with theories and concerns she could not yet comprehend in full.

How she longed to tell her the truth. To sit her faithful student down and explain everything: the centuries of sorrow, the guilt that clung to her like a shadow, the weight of a thousand years alone, and for the thousands of thousands that awaited her, Twilight wasn’t ready—did not need to know. Celestia wasn’t sure she herself was ready. She didn’t believe that she would ever be.

The response she had sent was brief, and tinged with a warmth she prayed would soothe Twilight’s doubts:

“Do not worry, my dearest Twilight. It is merely a legend, a tale of old that many of my dear little ponies have been fascinated with over the centuries. It is not a matter of concern. Focus your energy on the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration. How do you plan on spending it?”

She could still recall the way Twilight had looked at her when they met briefly afterwards—her inquisitive eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the scepticism flickering there despite her reverence. Celestia had smiled, her centuries-honed mask of calm unbroken, but the guilt had gnawed at her all the same. It lacked the same bite it held before, but it was still there.

Then came another letter

Dear Princess Celestia,

While I wish to take this to your council, I couldn’t help but feel something was off, that there was more to this story. So, I set out and took a comparison of star charts.

This is grave news, princess. The star’s position in the sky is changing ever so slightly every couple of years. It is a slow and steady pace that may have gone unnoticed for many years, but a simple comparison between the stars of today and a thousand years ago shows a glaring drift

Celestia paused when she read that letter. It wasn’t new information to her, it was simply one of the many reminders of how she failed to upkeep her sister’s sky. Celestia herself started to forget what it looked like so long ago, not that she had ever stopped to look at it before.

This must be what the prophecy talked about, the stars aiding in her escape. Action must be taken, princess; we need to prepare.

Sincerely, your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

She didn’t remember her response to that letter, not fully. She recalls struggling and a mention of how it was her doing.

Celestia hoped that it would have been enough, hoped that that would quell the worries of her student. She knew she was wrong, but she still hoped.

Then came letter after letter, discovery after discovery, memory after memory. Celestia was able to handle it; she did so for a thousand years, and she’ll do so for a thousand more. Or, she would’ve, if it wasn’t for the last letter.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I write to you this letter after spending night upon night of research, and some new information came to hoof that I thought to ask of you. In one of the books that spoke of the ‘Moonlit Dawn’, there was a mention of a pony named Månen, No, it can’t be… or ‘Luna’ in Equestrian. Don’t. I beg of you Twilight, Don’t. The name appears to be the original name of the Nigh--

Celestia wasn’t proud to admit it, but she lost her composure with that letter. It burned with magic as did her heart with pain. She did everything she could- No, she didn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have failed.She purged countless tomes, rewrote much of history, and burned many bridges to make sure that her sister wouldn’t be remembered as the Nightmare. It wasn’t enough, she should have done more, she could have done more. That the name Luna would never be linked with Nightmare Moon…that her sister wouldn’t be remembered as a monster.

Yet, Celestia failed, and she could stomach the reminders No longer. Loath she to admit, but Celestia couldn’t stand to see her student for the day, and so, even though it was by no means Twilight’s fault, she sent her away with a flimsy excuse so she could be by herself.

Now that Celestia had the time to reminisce, she failed to see the point of it. The pain burned and lingered, and nought could be done about it. The failure was hers, and she had to deal with it.

Princess Celestia took a deep breath, her chest expanding slowly as the cool evening air filled her lungs. She held it there, letting the pressure build until it pressed uncomfortably against her ribs until her heart’s slow, steady beats reverberated through her chest. Only then did she release it, a controlled exhale that dissipated into the stillness of the room.

Princess Celestia, ruler of the sun and regent of the moon, rose from her bed with an uncharacteristic stiffness, her movements mechanical and deliberate. Her legs felt heavy, as though bound by unseen chains, and each step required a concerted effort. The sensation was all too familiar, an unwelcome echo of a burden she thought she had long since overcome. Or well…that should have been the case. It didn’t, not anymore.

She stepped onto the marble floor of her chambers, the cold surface grounding her momentarily, though it did little to dispel the fog of weariness that clung to her like a second skin. The familiar grandeur of her room—the gilded mirrors, the plush drapery, the intricate mosaics depicting her victories—felt hollow, lifeless. None of it mattered tonight.

With a practised elegance that belied her exhaustion, Celestia crossed the room to the balcony. Her hooves struck the stone with soft, deliberate clicks, the only sound in the oppressive silence. She pushed open the glass doors with her magic, and the warm air washed over her, whispering against her fur and teasing the edges of her mane, which billowed faintly as though stirred by an unseen wind.

She stood at the edge of the balcony, her gaze fixed on the city below. Canterlot, her jewel, gleamed under the golden light. From this height, the city seemed serene, peaceful—perfect, even. But Celestia felt no joy, no pride as she looked upon it. The sight did not lift her spirits or stir her heart. It was simply there, a tableau to occupy her eyes while her thoughts wandered elsewhere.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, waiting. Time had always been a nebulous thing to her, especially in moments like these. Minutes, hours—they blurred together, meaningless in the grand tapestry of her existence. All she knew was that she was waiting, her heart filled with a numbness she loathed.

The moment came, as it always did, with a subtle shift in the air. She felt it before she saw it—the quiet, almost imperceptible tug of the moon as it prepared to ascend. Celestia turned her gaze to the horizon, her magic already stirring as she began the familiar ritual.

The sun, blazing and resplendent, lingered for a moment longer, its golden light bathing the land in a final embrace. Celestia lowered her head, and the sun followed, its fiery radiance sinking below the edge of the world. Her magic guided it gently, reverently, until it disappeared entirely, leaving behind the soft hues of dusk.

Then came the moon, pale and luminous, rising unbidden like a silver fish leaping from the depths of a vast, violet sea. Celestia’s magic never touched it, her influence unnecessary as the celestial body propelled itself into the sky with a will of its own, a magic that was not her own eternally coating its surface. She envied its freedom, its untethered grace. The moon had never needed her. She loathed it for the eternal prison it was, a prison for the sister who needed her, the sister who was alone.

While the moon managed itself, the stars were another matter entirely.

Celestia turned her attention to the expanse of empty sky, her horn glowing faintly as she reached out with her magic. The stars resisted her touch, as they always did. Their light flickered stubbornly, the ancient remnants of her sister’s influence roaring against her magic like distant echoes of rebellion.

Each star required deliberate effort, her magic straining to coax them into existence. She felt the defiance in their essence, a protest that reverberated through her magic like angry roars on the best of nights, and manic wailing on the worst. Tonight, bitterness was what she got. The resistance was stronger than usual, and Celestia found herself faltering. Perhaps she had been faltering from the beginning and noticed too late.

Her breaths grew shallow, her magic sputtering for a brief, terrifying moment. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus, to push past the weariness that clawed at her. One by one, the stars ignited, their light punctuating the deepening night. The effort left her trembling, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her as she struggled to complete the task.

It took longer than usual, and the strain left her feeling hollow, as though the stars had siphoned away what little strength she had left. But it was done. The night sky stretched above her, resplendent and whole, though it felt more like a battleground than a work of art.

Celestia stepped back from the balcony, her gaze lingering on the moon as it hung, silent and watchful, in the heavens. Her breath kept steady as she looked into the eyes of the mare on the Moon. The burning pain of earlier was now a mere dull ache.

The stars and the moon were not hers. They never had been.

They belonged to her.

“Luna,” she whispered, the name was almost foreign to her now. It was both a comfort and a torment. How long has it been since she said that name out loud?...it didn’t really matter, did it? The answer is simple. Too long, it had been too long.

For a thousand years, she had carried the weight of her sister’s absence, guilt once crushing a constant numbness now. She had sought to protect Equestria, to preserve the peace her subjects took for granted, but it had come at a cost. Each night, as she lowered the sun and lit the stars, she felt the echoes of her sister’s presence, a ghost of magic that danced, unwavering and ever-seething.

She shook her head before plastering a smile on her face, she had appearances to make. It would not do justice to the town of Ponyville if she visited them all sombre when they prepared for joy.

Perhaps as Twilight sees that nothing will happen, she’ll drop the matter and enjoy the festivities. She idly considered sending for Shining and Cadance but decided against it. She remembered Cadance talking about a date with the captain of the guard.

Her smile widened by a mere hair, becoming natural at last. She spread her wings and took a deep breath before she took to the sky; she had a town to visit and a celebration to conduct.

——————————————

Luna descended gracefully, her hooves connecting with the soft earth in a muted thud. The scent of freshly trampled grass rose around her, a faint, earthy sweetness carried on the gentle breeze, a stark contrast to the crispiness of the sky. Her wings shifted slightly before folding neatly against her sides, the residual energy from her flight still buzzing faintly in her limbs. She found herself very grateful for the opportunity to race Rainbow Dash despite the complaints of her wings.

The rush of air through her feathers, the sheer freedom of pushing herself against the winds, had been nothing short of exhilarating. A broad smile tugged at her lips—genuine, unguarded, and stubbornly refusing to fade. Though much had been lost to her—her crown, her purpose, and, for a time, her very sense of self—she found herself grateful for the fact that a semblance of her connection with the sky had remained with her.

Rainbow Dash had left not long ago, the energetic pegasus zipping off in a blur of rainbow streaks, chattering about a party Pinkie Pie was throwing later that evening. Something about a library, which had struck Luna as an unusual choice of venue, but it was Pinkie. She dared not to doubt Pinkie’s abilities; if there was one thing that pink earth pony excelled at, it was defying all expectations.

Still, Luna had declined Rainbow’s vague invitation to join her early. She wasn’t quite ready to immerse herself in the lively chaos of Ponyville, not just yet. She needed time—time to process, to breathe, to simply exist

Her hooves carried her forward, her path guided more by instinct than by conscious choice. The outskirts of Ponyville stretched before her, a patchwork of wildflower meadows and soft, rolling hills. As the sounds of the town faded behind her, a new melody rose to take its place—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of birds settling in for the evening, and the rhythmic ringing of her ears, not causing her discomfort.

It was only when she caught the faint shimmer of water through the trees that she realised where she was headed. The lake, its surface gilded by the waning light of the drifting sun, came into view as she pushed through the final line of trees.

The sight stopped her in her tracks.

The lake was a masterpiece, painted in hues of molten gold and fiery orange. The sun hung and marched towards the horizon, its brilliance reflecting off the rippling water in dazzling, ever-shifting patterns.

Luna squinted slightly against the intensity of the sun’s glow, but as she stepped closer to the shoreline, the glare softened. The golden light danced across her coat, highlighting the deep navy blue of her fur and casting long shadows that stretched behind her. The air here was cooler, tinged with the faint scent of water lilies and damp earth.

She found herself drawn to the water’s edge, her hooves sinking slightly into the soft sand and mud. The texture was cool and yielding, a contrast to the firmness of the grass she’d walked on moments before. Her reflection stared back at her from the lake’s surface, distorted slightly by the gentle ripples.

Luna tilted her head, studying her reflection with a mixture of curiosity and unease. Gone was the horn that granted her access to her beloved moon. Gone was her strength, gone was her crown, gone was her name from history. It granted her a simple life, a lovely life that she wished to have had a millennium ago. Yet, she still missed her moon, her true blood sister, and her old home.

She wasn’t the Luna of long ago, the one that became Nightmare Moon. She wasn’t who she was even before that. She’s someone new. Her old habits and likes are still there, but she did not live her life as a princess in this new world. She couldn’t be more thankful for it. But how will it all change when the truth is out? How will her new family react? How will Celestia react? Who will be hurt? Who will feel betrayed?

The questions swirled in her mind, but she didn’t let them linger. Not here, not now. She lowered herself to the ground, folding her legs neatly beneath her as she settled into the water. The cool water clung to her fur and dampened her wings, grounding her in a way that felt almost comforting, if not a bit restrictive.

Her gaze shifted to the horizon, where the sun dipped lower. Where the wait for her sister’s arrival grew shorter and yet ever more unbearable. But that was for later. For now, she allowed herself to simply be.

The quiet was soothing, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the occasional rustle of leaves as the evening breeze stirred them. Luna closed her eyes, letting the sounds wash over her. She took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs, and released it slowly.

She let go of thought, of connection and simply allowed herself to be. For how long? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her heart was at peace. Her mind rested and prepared for the hurricane it would face.

She could have stayed there the entire night and day and she wouldn’t have noticed; the wing that rested on her withers and the warmth it provided made sure of it.

Luna silently turned her head to the side, now face to face with Mother. It was odd to think of a pony so much younger than her as a parental figure, yet for what it’s worth, and as far as she was concerned, this blessing of a Pegasus was as good as any mother she could have gotten, now or then.

She studied the soft smile that met her, the loving look in her eyes, of curiosity and questions unasked, of understanding that had no right to be there. Would this serene image show itself to her again after the morrow? Would she have to commit it to memory as she did to many of what came before?

Her thoughts were broken as Marigold neared and tightened the soft embrace. Both mares turned to look at the descending sun.

The silence between them lingered, neither tense nor entirely easy, but comfortable enough to bear. The lake’s quiet ripples filled the space between words, their gentle rhythm grounding the stillness. Marigold’s wing draped over Luna’s shoulders, a steady warmth against the growing chill of the evening. Luna stayed motionless, her gaze fixed on the water’s surface, though her thoughts churned far below the calm she projected.

“You’ve been quieter than usual, now and for most of the road,” Marigold said at last, her voice breaking the stillness with gentle curiosity. She didn’t turn to Luna, keeping her gaze on the fading light of the horizon. Her tone was soft but not overly gentle like she’d already decided not to press too hard. “I know you’re not much for chatter, but something’s been weighing on you. I can see it.”

Luna shifted slightly, the movement was subtle but enough to register her unease. Her wings twitched, still damp from the lake’s edge, and she exhaled slowly. “I’ve had... Things on my mind,” she admitted, her voice low, nearly lost in the soft evening air.

Marigold gave a small nod, her expression thoughtful. “Don’t we all,” she replied after a moment, her words carrying a pragmatic weight. She glanced at Luna now, her soft, kind eyes catching the faint light of the stars as they began to grace the sky with their presence—At that moment, she looked so much like her. Oh, how she missed her sister. “But you carry things differently. You hold them too close.”

Luna stiffened under the observation, but Marigold didn’t press further. Instead, she shifted her wing slightly, a small but deliberate gesture that drew Luna closer. The sunny yellow mare let the silence stretch again, as though waiting for Luna to fill it. For that, she was thankful.

“I suppose I’ve always been like that,” Luna said eventually, her voice measured, it was always so difficult to speak, wasn’t it? She kept her gaze forward, not daring to meet Marigold’s eyes. “It’s easier to hold things close than to let them spill out.”

Marigold let out a quiet sigh, though there was no frustration in it. “Easier, maybe. But easier doesn’t mean better. You keep that up, and one day, you’ll have so much packed away in there that it’ll come bursting out whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not sure it’s that simple,” Luna said after a pause, her tone measured. She hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much; she had so much to risk. “There are things that... Aren’t so easy to let go of. Things I can’t explain, even to myself.”

Marigold regarded her for a long moment, her gaze steady but not prying. “Maybe,” she said at last. “But maybe you don’t have to explain them. Maybe it’s enough to let someone else carry a bit of it, even if they don’t understand all of it.”

The simplicity of the statement caught Luna off guard. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Marigold’s. There was no judgment there, no expectation—just a quiet, patient kindness that felt both comforting and deeply undeserved. How had she found them? Or more precisely, how was she lucky enough to be found by them?

“You make it sound so easy,” Luna murmured, a faint, wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was a fleeting expression, but it softened her otherwise guarded features.

Marigold’s smile was small but genuine. “It’s not. But I’ve found that most things worth doing aren’t.” She leaned back slightly, her wing still resting against Luna’s side. “Look, I’m not saying you need to spill every thought in your head. I’m just saying you don’t have to carry everything alone. That’s what family’s for.”

Luna’s chest tightened at the word, the weight of it pressing against her. Family. How strange and bittersweet it was to hear it spoken so casually, as though it were a simple thing. And yet, for all its simplicity, the word carried a depth that Luna couldn’t fully grasp, not now, not when the truth of who she was hovered unspoken between them. Not when she roamed Equis and lived 21 years unbeknownst to her true family.

Luna felt her mood dampen a bit; even after all this time with them, she still took a moment to think of them as actual family. A moment it may be, but still a moment too long.

“I’ll think about it,” Luna said softly, the words not quite a promise but not dismissive either. She lowered her gaze, her reflection in the lake catching her eye once more. It shifted with the water’s gentle movements, fragmented and incomplete, yet when the waves settled, it would always be whole again. Well, as whole as it could be considering what she was missing.

Marigold didn’t press further. “That’s all I ask,” she said quietly, her tone losing none of its warmth. After a moment, she added, “You’re not as alone as you think, Luna. You’ve got a stubborn old mare here who isn’t going anywhere. None of us are.”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Luna’s face, though she didn’t look up. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice soft but genuine. “Thanks, Mom” Luna felt herself relaxed when her mother’s body relaxed with the touch. She turned and nuzzled her softly.

They sat in silence after that, the night deepening around them. The stars began to dot the sky, their light reflecting faintly on the lake’s surface. Marigold’s wing stayed where it was, its weight steady and unyielding. Luna closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to feel its warmth, its quiet reassurance. Perhaps it wasn’t that odd that she found a mother in Marigold, for despite their age difference, Luna still felt like a foal at that moment. Perhaps it was a good thing.

She didn’t have answers—not yet. But in this moment, she allowed herself to believe, just for a while, that she didn’t have to face everything on her own.

Eventually, Marigold stood up and caught Luna’s attention with her. “Come on dear, You don’t want to leave the others waiting, Celestia knows what Pinkie would deem as a fitting prank for skipping a party.”

Luna allowed herself a chuckle as she stood up herself. The water felt heavy as it dripped from her wings and coat, the mud on her hooves felt cold, but it was nice. Luna simply smiled and followed after her mother.

——————————————

Twilight let out a muffled groan, burying her face deeper into the pillow in a futile attempt to escape the relentless cacophony. The muffled thrum of music outside was a ceaseless torment, a nagging reminder of how impossible it had become to concentrate on the growing puzzle of Nightmare Moon. A puzzle she had to solve. The pressing weight of her task—one she barely understood but instinctively knew was critical—seemed to intensify with every laugh, every stomp, and every discordant note of music from the thrice-damned party happening, of all places, in the library. Her sanctuary. Her sanctum. Violated.9

For a moment, Twilight simply lay there, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as she half-watched the clock tick away precious seconds. She closed her eyes, willing herself to think, to focus, to breathe. Perhaps she can grab a book or be able to catch up with the Princess and tell of everything, face to face. But another burst of laughter from downstairs shattered her resolve. She groaned again, this time louder, sharper, and filled with the impotent rage of a mare at the end of her patience.

Her ears twitched as the music and chatter inexplicably grew louder. Frowning, she turned her head just in time to see Spike stroll into the room. The sight of him—her ever-loyal and adorable assistant—should have calmed her nerves. But instead, it added a new layer to her irritation. He looked utterly ridiculous, wearing what appeared to be the shade from a lamp atop his head. Ribbons dangled from it. Were they remnants of some decoration? Part of one of that Pinkie Pie’s absurd games? She neither knew nor cared. It was all just one more absurdity in a night filled with them.

“Hey, Twilight!” Spike called cheerily, his voice grating against her frayed nerves. He tilted the lampshade up just enough to peek at her with a grin that could have lit the room. She really wished it was enough, but it wasn’t. “Pinkie Pie is starting Pin the Tail on the Pony! Wanna play?”

Twilight froze for a heartbeat. It wasn’t Spike’s fault—none of this was his fault—but hearing those words, so blithely spoken, made something snap inside her. The anger she’d been carefully containing spilt over in a torrent of frustration. Because, seriously? She was fretting about a possible apocalypse and then she got invited for such a silly game? She didn’t have time for that!

She sat up abruptly, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the little dragon. “No, Spike!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to make him blink in surprise. “All the ponies in this town are crazy! Utterly, completely crazy!” She turned away from him, her hooves stomping against the wooden floor as she paced to the window. The stars above winked down at her, their cold, distant light mocking her with their serenity. Didn’t those ponies know the world was supposed to be calm at night? That the night was a time for peace, for study, for thought? Not… this. Whatever it was.

She huffed out a breath and gestured angrily toward the sky. “Do they even know what time it is?” Her voice had softened, but the bitterness lingered, like the aftertaste of spoiled fruit or bad hay. Her gaze lingered on the heavens, the stars’ brilliance dimmed by her foul mood. A part of her, the rational part, whispered that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to be. This night was especially important, and instead of celebrating with her family or working on the issue of the coming threat with the princess, she was stuck with this. By Faust, she hated how powerless she felt in all of this.

Spike, to his credit, didn’t wilt under her outburst. Instead, he smiled broadly; after all, the young drake had years of experience with putting up with her moods. “It’s the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration,” he said simply, as though that explained everything. And, perhaps to him, it did. “Everypony has to stay up, or they’ll miss the princess raising the sun! You really should lighten up, Twilight. It’s a time of celebration!”

Twilight closed her eyes and let out a slow, measured breath, trying to find some semblance of calm. She knew he was right. Of course, he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier. The weight of her unspoken fears, the gnawing dread that something terrible was on the horizon, wouldn’t allow her the luxury of celebration. No, there was too much at stake. Too much she didn’t understand. And she hated not understanding.

She sighed as she turned towards Spike, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry Spike, I’m not in the mood to join in with those games.” She hoped that would be enough. Thankfully, it was. Spike just waddled closer, gave her a quick hug and then went on his way.

Twilight rested on the bed again, her gaze back to the moon that taunted her from the sky above. She had half a mind to look for a way to buck the stupid mare that tormented her for over a week now.

Half a mind because her gaze turned back towards the door again as she heard its creek. She expected it to be Spike or one of those other crazy ponies. Well, she was close enough. She didn’t know if she preferred this pony to the other options though.

For some reason, it was the tall pegasus from earlier in the day, Luna if she remembered correctly. Luna still had to hold back a shiver because of the name. Seriously, how big of a coincidence it was to find a pony with a moon cutie mark and the same apparent name as Nightmare Moon?

Nonetheless, she also wondered why she was here. Spike, she understood. Perhaps she would have understood some of the other ponies, but she barely had a conversation with this, Luna.

She simply raised an eyebrow, she didn’t feel like initiating a conversation, but the princess and her mother would be disappointed if she outright refused to hear her out, especially since she had a managerial position in this town. For the rest of the night at least. “How may I help you?”

She stepped a bit closer and stopped as she saw the Moonlight hit the mare in front of her.

The light pooled in ribbons, soft and ephemeral, as though hesitant to disturb the tranquil stillness of the room—her mane catching and refracting the glow, strands of soft cyan shining faintly in the cool breeze. Near the edges, her mane faded into an ethereal snowy white, like the very fabric of the moonlight had melted into it, blending effortlessly together.

Her coat, a deep navy blue, did not shine in the moon’s embrace but instead seemed to drink in its light, holding it within like velvet holds a whispered caress. Her wings rested at her sides, the faded snowy white outlines of each feather gleaming softly in the interplay of shadow and light. They were not fanned out in display, but neither were they tightly furled; they rested in a poised elegance. Every feather seemed deliberate, their subtle shimmer a testament to the symmetry of strength and grace. Twilight couldn’t help but think of the Nobility back at Canterlot, well what few who were pegasi.

Luna stood motionless, her posture was natural, unassuming. The faintly defined lines of her muscles whispered of a life lived in motion, not that much different from that of a royal guard.

The moonlight touched her face with reverence, tracing the refined angles of her jaw, the delicate curve of her muzzle, and the quiet intensity of her expression. Her eyes were like jewels, shifting between Turquoise and Midnight green.

She felt the blood rushing in her cheeks, now burning hot. She was thankful for the amount of light that entered the room, and for whom it favored.

Luna, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice as she took a look at the room. Twilight was thankful that it wasn’t her actual room.

“I’d be surprised if you could, since I’m here intending to help.” and with that Twilight was grounded to reality once again. First off, who spoke like that? And second off, what did she mean?

“Excuse me?” Twilight’s brow furrowed, suspicion knitting her features. She straightened slightly, trying to appear more composed than she felt, though her heart quickened with unease. “Help me?” she echoed, her tone edged with incredulity. “Help me with what, exactly?”

The mare in front of her simply smiled before she extended a wing and gestured at the door. “With the town, I know it’s a lot. Everypony can be a tad bit overwhelming without intending to.”

Twilight snorted, unable to suppress the sardonic laugh that bubbled up in response. “Understatement of the century,” she muttered under her breath. Still, she was intrigued despite herself. Why was this mare—this near stranger—so intent on helping her? Twilight’s gaze flicked to the faint sheen of moisture on Luna’s coat, and her nose caught the faint scent of damp fur. “Have you been... Cloud diving or something?” she asked, unable to keep the curiosity from her voice.

Luna chuckled, a low, melodic sound. “Not quite,” she replied with a soft smile on her face, her eyes glinted with amusement.

Twilight’s scepticism deepened, though she felt a reluctant tug of curiosity. “Did Spike put you up to this?” she asked, her tone slightly sharper than before. “We’ve only just met, and now you’re here to play mentor or... What, exactly? Another pony trying to drag me into their ‘friendship’ madness?”

“Your Drake companion did ask for aid, yes. However, it was only after the insistence of Pinkie Pie,” Luna had that amused smile plastered still as she spoke. Twilight didn’t know what was amusing, and as much as she wanted to know, she felt like going back to the main subject.

“And what are you intending to help with exactly? No offence, but I’m not looking for friendship advice here.”

“That’s not what I’m here for. Sure, it would make the others that bit happier to make a new friend out of you, but Spike asked for someone to help you enjoy the night before the celebration comes, and as much as I trust my friends, they can be a bit much at first.” She trotted past Twilight, head turned towards the books that lined the shelves of the room. “I didn’t know the librarian’s chambers held more books. I wonder what titles are left here.” Twilight’s ear perked at that. Judging by the tone, it was most likely not aimed at her, but still interesting enough.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I intend to do some work till then. Today’s a busy day. With the whole summer sun celebration and all, I didn’t have time for my own research, and I’m afraid it’s important.” Twilight really just wanted to get back to work. Her eyes drifted back to the window and the moon that shone outside. Twilight could have sworn that the mare on the moon was laughing at her from all the way up there. That is if she was to remain that far anyway.

“Well, what are you working on? Two heads are better than one after all, and Fluttershy did say that you were eager to come to the library. Perhaps I can locate something you want?”

Twilight hesitated, her gaze lingering on Luna. The mare’s calm demeanour and her measured tone were almost unnervingly sincere. A part of her bristled at the intrusion, but another part—a quieter, more rational part—couldn’t deny the potential usefulness of having someone else to bounce ideas off of. Even if that someone was an unfamiliar, overly enigmatic mare.

She glanced at her notes, all of what she could bring with her lay scattered across the small desk in the corner. Words circled and underlined with frantic hoof-writing, stars and question marks scribbled in margins—evidence of her restless mind trying to piece together the enigma of Nightmare Moon. Could Luna really help? The thought was... Absurd. And yet, here she was, offering. It was better than nothing, but did she really want help with this?...oh buck it. She was half mad already because of it, some help wouldn’t be bad.

Twilight sighed, her resolve teetering on the edge. “Fine,” she said, at last, her voice begrudging. “If you want to help, don’t expect much. I doubt you’ll know anything about what I’m researching.”

Luna’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Try me.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed as she moved to the desk, levitating a scroll and unfurling it with a precise flick of magic. “I’ve been trying to connect the old legends of Nightmare Moon with certain astronomical patterns. The Mare in the Moon legend isn’t just a foal’s tale—it correlates with the drift of stars that align with the lunar phases. The magical energy forming the stars builds to a peak, intake capacity rising due to the decreased distance between each other, and...” She trailed off, glancing at Luna as if expecting her to laugh or dismiss her findings…or be totally lost, that wouldn’t surprise her either.

But Luna didn’t. Instead, she listened intently, her gaze steady and thoughtful. “Go on,” she prompted.

Twilight hesitated, her scepticism warring with a flicker of curiosity. “And,” she continued cautiously, “I think that peak is tonight. During the Summer Sun Celebration. The legend says Nightmare Moon will return to bring eternal night, but there’s no evidence of how or why. Just... Pieces. Fragments.” She gestured to the books piled around her. “I’ve been combing through every source I can find, but nothing explains how she could possibly escape her imprisonment. Heck, I can’t find any sources that mention her without referring to the legend!” Twilight thought it best not to mention the draconic tome she found; it would certainly make this more awkward than it already was.

Luna’s gaze flicked to the scroll, then to the moonlight streaming through the window. Her expression grew distant, her eyes narrowing slightly as if recalling something from long ago. Twilight didn’t miss the slight twitch of the wings either. “You are quite thorough,” she said finally. “Most would dismiss such legends as mere superstition. Few would look deeper, let alone to the scope that you’re showing.”

Twilight blinked at her, caught off guard by the lack of derision in her tone. She’d braced herself for the usual scepticism, the rolled eyes, or the polite but patronising dismissal she so often encountered recently. But there was none of that. “You... Don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Quite the opposite no. Eccentric? Perhaps, but not crazy.”

Twilight couldn’t help but stare at her. Did…someone actually believe her? “Wait, you think I’m right? Do you agree that Nightmare Moon is coming back?” Twilight couldn’t help the joy that seeped into her tone. Finally, someone was actually considering that she might be correct!

“Yes, and no.” Aaand that’s about right. She shouldn’t have celebrated early, even if internally.

“Wha- what do you mean by yes and no? It’s one or the other.”

Luna merely raised an eyebrow. “May I be informal and call you Twilight?” Twilight saw no harm, and so she gave her a quick nod. “Well, I do think you’re correct about the stars, but wrong about Nightmare Moon. The phenomena that you speak of is something that I noticed myself, but if you check even further before 2 thousand years or so, you’ll find Saddle Arabian records of the stars that are even more different. Few seemed to take notice, but it is a constant.”

Twilight stood still at that. She didn’t know if she should let out a sigh of relief or scream into the heavens. On one hoof, she was more than happy if it turned out that there was no looming threat to Equestria; on the other hoof, she couldn’t stomach being wrong because first, she spent way too much time into this, and second, it still didn’t feel right.

Wait, that was merely one piece of evidence that she had. Granted, it was her strongest, but still only one. Also, who was this pony to know about such old star charts? She’s not the one who had spent a week scouring the royal library for each rendition for the past thousand years.

Yeah, she had to know how, or at least why she knew that. “Aaand you know that because?”

Luna, to her credit, didn’t seem to be phased by the scepticism in her tone. She merely smiled and turned to her side and pointed at her cutie mark with a wing. “I do have this cutie mark for a reason Twilight. It isn’t just for the moon but for the night itself.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed as she processed the mare’s words. Her gaze flicked to the moon-shaped cutie mark, and for a moment, her irritation was replaced with curiosity. Her rational mind struggled to reconcile Luna’s calm assurance with the strange coincidence of her name and cutie mark. Was she truly as knowledgeable as she claimed, or was this some elaborate bluff?

Twilight felt herself hesitate, doubt now lingered within her mind. That answer should have been enough. It made sense, logically. Ponies with certain talents—be they astronomical or otherwise—often had an innate understanding of their domain. And yet, something about Luna’s response gnawed at her. A lingering curiosity, perhaps even suspicion, that she couldn’t quite place. There was a weight behind Luna’s words, a gravity that belied her otherwise calm demeanour. It wasn’t just the words themselves; it was the way they hung in the air, heavy and deliberate.

“You’re... Remarkably well-informed for this; no offence to this town, but I doubt it has as many resources or instruments for learning as Canterlot or similar cities,” Twilight said cautiously, her tone betraying her wariness.

Luna didn’t falter. Instead, she stepped closer to the desk, her movements fluid and purposeful, like water flowing to its natural course. “When one spends as much time as I have under the stars, patterns begin to emerge. The night speaks if you know how to listen.”

Twilight arched a brow, unsure whether to be intrigued or exasperated by the cryptic response. “That’s poetic, but not exactly the explanation I was hoping for.”

Luna chuckled softly, the sound low and resonant, like a distant melody carried on the wind. “Perhaps not. But you strike me as a pony who values the truth above all else, so I’ll not insult your intellect with empty reassurances.”

Twilight blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “Well... Yes, I do,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing faintly. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

Luna regarded her with a faint smile, her turquoise eyes glinting with an unreadable light. “Well, because this isn’t the first time such a thing has happened. You do know of the story that most ponies attribute to the Orion constellation, correct?”

Twilight tilted her head “The one about King Orion fleeing so far that he turned into the stars of the constellation after the defeat of his entire city?”

Luna nodded. “Yes, that one. While yes, the timing was relatively close, the constellation’s key stars were there long before the event. The finer details, as one might say have joined the formation at that time. The first pony to notice the difference between the sky and the charts happened to be a former inhabitant of the ruined sky city, and thus decided to name the constellation after his former king.”

Twilight blinked, her scepticism flaring again. “So, you’re saying this is just... Some natural celestial phenomenon? That it doesn’t mean anything significant? And how could anyone not notice such a change in the stars?”

“Not quite,” Luna replied, her tone patient. “I’m saying that the significance may not lie in destruction or doom, but in transformation. The stars’ alignment may herald an event, but what that event entails is not always so dire.” She turned her gaze back to Twilight, her expression thoughtful. “Your concern is not misplaced, Twilight. But neither is your fear the only possibility. As for how nopony noticed? Well, tell me, how many other ponies have noticed the drift that we were speaking of just a moment ago?”

Twilight frowned, her thoughts whirling. The mare’s words made annoying sense. Was it possible she’d been interpreting the signs incorrectly? And if so, what did that mean for her research? For her conclusions? Twilight just stared at her, torn between frustration and intrigue. Luna’s answers were maddeningly vague, yet they hinted at a depth of knowledge that Twilight couldn’t ignore. Who was this mare? And why did her demeanour seem so... Familiar?

Before she could press further, a sudden burst of laughter from downstairs shattered the moment. Twilight winced, her irritation flaring anew. She shot a glare at the door, her patience wearing thin. “I swear if I have to hear one more—”

“You will,” Luna interjected gently. Her voice was calm and soothing, and it drew Twilight’s attention back to her. “You can’t expect the town to not Celebrate; they have been waiting for this day since last year, after all. Though, could we not focus on our work instead of what’s going outside?”

Twilight hesitated, her scepticism warring with a flicker of gratitude. For all her frustrations, there was something oddly reassuring about Luna’s presence. Something that made her feel... Less alone. She was at least still up to helping “Fine,” she said, at last, her tone grudging. “But if I hear another interruption, I’m locking that door and throwing away the key.”

Luna’s smile deepened, a hint of mischief glinting in her eyes. “Oh? I don’t know, the idea of being trapped here with you doesn’t sound that bad,” she said, inclining her head with a damnably adorable smirk.

Twilight felt her cheeks grow so hot she almost thought that they glowed. She quickly shook her head and let out a weak laugh, her shoulders sagged slightly, embarrassed by the joke. She turned back to her desk, her gaze falling on the scattered notes and charts. Her mind was still buzzing with questions, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and curiosity.

Despite the odd start, Luna did as she said, and they started working together. Sure, Luna, more often than not, came with sound logic that disputed whatever Twilight came up with, but it was at least fun, and it eased her worries. Not that they were gone, but considerably less than what they used to be.

Twilight had lost track of time when Spike re-entered the room, the silly lampshade still on his head. “Come on you two! It’s time for sunrise!”

Twilight sighed as she stood up, nerves calmer than they were before. If anything, she was slightly eager to be proven wrong and spend the rest of the celebration with the princess.

Luna took a moment longer before standing up, taking a deep breath before she followed.

The town hall had many more ponies than it let on, with most Pegasi flying to get a better view of the scene. The sound of a thousand whispers filled the well-decorated structure. Spike sat on her back, slightly lifting himself as he held onto her head. Luna wasn’t that far away; she was standing next to the mare that accidentally saved her from Rarity and the twins that were chasing after the possum earlier. Huh, Luna must be the sister they spoke of, as the possum (Tiberius if she remembered what Fluttershy said correctly) was sitting next to her hoof.

As Twilight waited with the rest of the ponies, an overly excited pink blur of a pony found itself next to Twilight. “Isn’t this exciting!” Pinkie exclaimed as she pointed at the…well everything and everyone around them. “Are you excited? Cuz I’m excited, I’ve never been so excited! Well, except for that time that I saw you walking in this town and I went-” Pinkie didn’t get to finish whatever she wanted to say, as the sounds of the birds singing and the music overtook the hall.

Everyone’s attention turned to the centre stage, moving in with the light as it settled on Mayor Mare. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, as mayor of Ponyville it is my great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun celebration.” Cheers erupted at once, the voices blended together into an indistinguishable joyful cry.

Twilight didn’t feel it in her to join them. Not that she wasn’t glad, but she simply lacked the energy to do so and didn’t feel the same joy as everyone did. Her eyes wandered to look around her for a moment but went back to Mayor Mare before she could register anything.

The Mayor paused for a moment, letting the last echoes of the crowd’s cheers fade into the background before she continued. “In just a few moments, our town will experience the magic of sunrise and celebrate the longest day of the year!”

Twilight’s eyes followed the Mayor’s words, her gaze shifting towards the balcony that lined the upper tier of the hall. From there, the sky was visible in all its vastness, a canvas of twilight stretching endlessly above. Her heart tightened as she looked toward the horizon, where the moon hung low, its familiar face cold and indifferent. The four stars surrounding it remained unmoving, as still as the mountain Canterlot was built on top of.

“And now,” the Mayor’s voice broke into her thoughts, “It is my pleasure to introduce to you the ruler of our land, the very pony who gives us the Sun and the Moon each and every day. The good, the wise, the bringer of harmony to all of Equestria—Princess Celestia!”

As if on cue, the curtain fell, and the Princess was revealed. The Princess’s radiant smile illuminated the room, her ethereal mane a shimmering array of colours that floated with a current of its own. Everypony’s breath seemed to catch as Celestia stepped forward, her presence commanding and serene.

Without a word, the Princess’s horn began to glow, its light casting a warm, golden hue across the hall. In perfect synchrony, her wings unfurled in a slow, deliberate motion, and with a powerful leap, she soared into the air, taking the rising sun with her. The light from the sun began to overtake the dim lighting of the town hall, filling every corner of the space with its brilliance. The room seemed to hold its breath, the joyous sounds of the crowd fading into the background, swallowed by the radiant glow.

But then—everything froze.

The sun, still half-raised, hung in the sky like a silent witness to the sudden stillness. Princess Celestia hovered in mid-air, her wings faltering as her eyes widened in shock, her gaze locked not on the rising sun but on the sea of ponies below. A sharp, jarring sense of unease rippled through the crowd as they watched, confusion settling like a weight in the pit of Twilight’s stomach.

The Princess slowly descended back to the stage, the sun frozen midway in the sky, facing the opposing Moon. As Celestia landed, the crowd, once filled with joy, now stood in stunned silence. No one dared to speak.

Twilight’s heart began to hammer in her chest, each beat heavy with panic. Her breath quickened, her mind struggling to grasp what had just transpired. Why had Celestia stopped? Why had she faltered? Her thoughts twisted, dark and sharp, as a sudden wave of fear washed over her. Something was wrong.

Then, the Princess spoke.

Her voice was a mere whisper, fragile and faltering, like a candle flame on the edge of extinguishment. As if she didn’t believe what she saw herself. “L-Luna?”

Twilight took a mere moment to think before her eyes widened and she quickly turned towards the pony that she just spent a good part of the night with. The Mare that talked of the ancient stars and had a cutie mark of the moon. Twilight felt stupid for not figuring it out earlier, but again, she doubted she could have.

Everyone’s eyes went to the navy blue Pegasus, now standing in front of her family with wings spread as if it were to get someone’s attention. If that was the case, she certainly succeeded.

Luna’s gaze softened; she avoided eye contact with the princess for a mere moment before she took a deep, steadying breath. With quiet grace and resolve, she spoke the word that shattered the silence, and made Twilight’s heart almost stop: “Hello, Sister.”

Author's Note

Soo, yeah, this is a big one. Believe it or not, it was meant to be even longer. Nonetheless, I apologize for the delay.

Also! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

3: Summer Sun Celebration part-3-

Celestia’s mind roared, a storm writhing within that contrasted heavily with the deadly silence that filled the hall. Her sight was fixed on the navy blue mare amid the crowd…Luna. How? How could this be possible? The sheer impossibility of it clawed at her mind. Could it be some cruel illusion, some elaborate deceit? No. It could not. Nopony alive could know of Luna—not truly. Her name? It was possible considering her discovered failure, but her face? Her voice? Those belonged to memories that Celestia alone carried. And yet, the mare before her was unmistakable. Her voice had been the same, exactly the same—so achingly familiar it had unravelled something deep within Celestia’s soul. She clenched her jaw, desperate to anchor herself against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf her.

Somewhere in her tumult, Celestia realised she had moved, though she had no memory of the action. Her path was blocked now by two earth stallions and a pegasus mare. Why were they standing in her way? How dare they obstruct her? Fury, sharp and blinding, flared momentarily within her—but no. She could not afford to relapse. Not here. Not now.

She forced herself to take a breath, her focus shifting momentarily from the mare who should not exist to the three standing before her. The elder stallion immediately caught her attention. He was broad-shouldered, his slate-grey coat taut over the powerful muscles typical of earth ponies. His stance was protective, his legs planted firmly as though he might stand against the tides themselves to safeguard what lay behind him. His gaze met hers, steady and unyielding, free of fear. There was no hostility in his eyes, only determination—a father guarding his own. Yet the notion made no sense to her. What was he protecting? Surely not… her? She resisted the urge to shake her head, and decided to avoid the idea by shifting focus,

The second stallion looked like a younger replica of who she assumed to be his father, a replica with a different coat sure, but the similarities in features were still there. He mirrored his father’s stance. He looked a bit hesitant and slightly confused, but that was only in expression. She knew that if she wanted to get past him, the most he’d be able to do was attempt to push back. He was well built, sure, but that slight uncertainty told her enough.

Then her eyes fell on the pegasus mare, and her breath hitched. The mare was like a blade drawn from its sheath. Her rosewood coat gleamed under the light, but it was her stance that seized Celestia’s attention. Unlike the protective positions of the stallions, hers was offensive. Her wings twitched, half-raised. She stood almost ready to pounce. The sharpness in her gaze was unlike anything Celestia had encountered in centuries—a raw, unfiltered hostility that pierced through her like a knife.

Why? Why was this mare so openly hostile, so ready for conflict? It was baffling, unsettling, and maddening all at once. Celestia opened her mouth, perhaps to demand an explanation, but before she could speak, the voice came. A voice that made Celestia’s knees tremble as if she was some nervous filly.

Celestia froze her heart a fragile thing caught between beats. That voice. It rolled over her like a wave, and for a moment, she felt the ground slip from beneath her hooves. It was the same. The exact same.

The elder stallion hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, followed swiftly by the younger. The Pegasus, Tempere, was less compliant. She stood firm, her glare burning as she hissed, “Luna, like hell if I will!”

Celestia’s heart twisted painfully. The name—the name Luna—uttered so casually, so familiarly, sent shockwaves through her. The impossibility before her grew heavier and more tangible, and the threads of her sanity stretched to breaking. Was this real? Could it be? Or had she finally succumbed to madness?

The mare—Luna—sighed, her voice weary yet commanding. “I’ll explain later, Tempere. Please, listen to me now.”

Tempere snorted, bristling with defiance, but a firm push of Luna’s wing was all it took to move her aside. Celestia barely registered the exchange, her entire being paralysed as Luna—this Luna—stood directly before her.

Celestia didn’t know how to react. She just went as still as a statue as she observed the pony in front of her. It…she was so much like her but there were many differences that Celestia was able to make out now. Her build was slimmer, not slim, but slimmer than that of a millennium ago. She was well built for a pegasus, definitely a worker’s body, but not the warrior’s body that her sister possessed so long ago, nor did it look comparable to that of an earth pony of a similar build. Her mane and coat had odd differences as well. It was not an ethereal mane akin to her own or the smooth and short cyan mane that Luna had in her younger years. It looked almost…sickly. Then there was the elephant in the room, the pièce de resistance, well lack thereof. She had no horn.

Celestia didn’t know what to make of it, what to believe of it. Was this her sister, or merely a lookalike that gained knowledge of her somehow? The Mare seemed to take notice of her confusion. She extended her wing and lifted Celestia’s stiff head up slightly before pointing at the descending moon.

Still confused, Celestia’s gaze tore off to the moon and examined the visage. It looked the same as it alw- Celestia’s eyes widened as dread began to fill her heart to the point that she felt like she was drowning. She extended her magic and gathered it at a singular point on her horn, before doing something that she hadn’t in a very long time. She willed her magic to envelope the moon and then expand and map out the dark visage. Unbeknownst to any other pony was the fact that the visage extended well beyond the face at the front of the moon. It was a full body that extended across the whole of the moon, and even that was barely enough to map out the magic of her sister and contain it.

Celestia had memorized it like the back of her own hoof during her attempts to break the seal of her own making. It had been centuries since she last tried, yet some things cannot be forgotten, and just as she feared, the expansive sea that represented the wings was missing from the visage.

Simply knowing about the full visage should have been enough proof, but to see the mare in front of her with what was missing all but confirmed it. Celestia was stuck in a limbo between happiness, fear, and dread. “Luna…what have you done?” Celestia was ashamed of how weak and accusatory her tone was. She should have jumped with joy at the fact that her sister was back, and she knew that, but how much of her sister was this really? She feared the answer.

“Paid the price of freedom sister. Please, be done with raising the sun so we can speak in private.”

Celestia didn’t need to be told twice; she forwent all forms of ceremony and pulled her sun into the midst of the sky at once, then set to teleport the both of them back to the castle before any could react, before she would collapse from the weight of it all.

The shift in their surroundings was subtle, almost imperceptible, but to Celestia, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted. The sanctuary of her chambers, shielded from the prying eyes of the outside world, provided the solace she desperately needed. The door closed softly behind them, sealing them away from the world, and before she could muster the strength to hold herself together, her knees buckled. She sank to the floor, her breaths ragged, her chest tight as tears threatened to spill over. The ma-...Luna stood silently and simply watched. Celestia didn’t know how long it took her to get her bearings back, she just felt as if she was a mere breath away from collapse.

She took a deep breath, the deepest her body allowed her to take and refused to let it go until the ache of her lungs matched that of her heart and burned as hot as the sun. The discomfort and call of her body grounded her once more. It was non-ideal, but it worked for her. Celestia slowly stood up, and once again looked at the mare whose presence should have been impossible.

It did nothing to help her ache. While the posture she took might have looked stubborn and poised, Celestia knew better. She practically raised her sister after all…and by the solemn mother, her sister was truly back wasn’t she?

She recognized that posture anywhere. Her sister stood near the light, she seemed to look at her, yet the slightest drift off the centre revealed that she avoided it as subtly as she could. Her wings held close to her body just a bit too tight, even for elegance, it was too tight. Luna unconsciously took that stance whenever she felt shameful, whether it was from taking more sweets than she should have, or if it was from another failure to cast a spell.

It didn’t dawn on Celestia before that moment…that her sister was back. The realization hit her like a crashing wave, stealing the breath from her lungs. This wasn’t some illusion, some cruel trick of the mind or magic. This was her sister. Suddenly, all her questions lost meaning, and thoughts and doubts got cast aside. They were unnecessary. Celestia didn’t think; she couldn’t think. Her body moved on instinct, a primal urge that overpowered reason. She leapt and embraced her sister as tight as she could, which accidentally led to the both of them to be on the floor. It didn’t matter. For the sake of creation, her sister was back.

Celestia felt her body tremble, and it didn’t take long for the sting of tears to make itself known. She didn’t bother to stop the tears, this time, she welcomed them and openly sobbed on her sister’s soft coat. None of it mattered—the indignity, the awkwardness, the tears that now streamed freely down her cheeks. Her sister was here, alive, warm, real. She clung to Luna as if she might vanish at any moment as if holding her tighter could make up for a thousand years of absence.

Her heart ached and cried out in joy as she heard soft sobs that predated the return of her embrace. A trembling pair of wings wrapped around her; it pulled her closer and proceeded to envelop her in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Celestia could have died and would have been happy nonetheless. For the first time in a thousand years, she felt whole. She felt her sister’s heartbeat against her own, steady and grounding, a reminder that this was no dream.

The two sisters lay entwined on the floor, their tears mingling with the quiet of the room as if the universe itself dared not intrude on this fragile reunion. The passage of time became meaningless. For a thousand years, the ache of separation had been an ever-present spectre for Celestia, a wound she had convinced herself would never heal. Now, in Luna’s presence, the ache was no longer an empty void but a wound reopening, raw and bleeding.

When Celestia finally lifted her head, her face streaked with tears, her eyes met Luna’s. The sight took her breath away. Those eyes, though the same brilliant teal she remembered, carried a heaviness that hadn’t been there before—a shadow of pain and regret that mirrored her own. Celestia reached a trembling hoof toward her sister’s face, hesitating as if afraid she might shatter the fragile reality before her. A choked sob escaped Luna’s lips, and she leaned into her sister’s touch, her eyes closing as if seeking solace in the warmth of Celestia’s hoof. Celestia herself sobbed loudly and embraced her sister once again.

———————————————

Twilight stood frozen, her mouth dry as the silence and confused glances filled the air. Her eyes flicked to the empty space where the princess, well, princesses had vanished moments before. It didn’t take long for the hall to burst with murmurs and questions. Many turned to the family that Luna was with, who they believed Luna to be a part of, with questioning looks and, for some, with actual questions. Specifically, one Prismatic pegasus.

Rainbow Dash flew in and landed right next to the family as soon as a spot was available, wings spread and confusion clear. “Just what was that about? What did Luna mean by sister? How does the princess know her name? Just what’s going on here!?” The Rainbow maned pegasus looked at each one of them, and they all looked almost as confused or even more confused than the rest.

Nonetheless, her words hung in the air, a spark threatening to ignite the growing confusion into chaos. Twilight watched as the eldest stallion of the family stepped forward. His slate-grey coat seemed to darken under the weight of the collective stares, yet he met Rainbow’s gaze evenly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—like a pony trying to steady a shaking bridge.

“Rainbow Dash, I swear to you, we know as much as you do.”

But Rainbow wasn’t satisfied. Her wings flared as she stomped a hoof. “Oh, come on! You have to know something! Luna’s your daughter, isn’t she? How could you not know if she was—”

Before she could finish, the rosewood-coated mare, Tempere, bristled. Twilight could see the tension radiating off her in waves, her stance low and poised as if ready to fight. For a moment, Twilight thought the mare might launch herself at Rainbow, but Applejack intervened before the situation could escalate.

“Alright, Rainbow Dash, simmer down,” Applejack said firmly, clamping her teeth onto Rainbow’s tail and yanking her back down to the ground. Rainbow let out a startled yelp as she was pulled back with enough force to sit her squarely on the polished floor.

“Applejack, let go!” Rainbow shouted, her wings flapped in protest, but the farm pony held her grip, her hooves planted like roots in the earth.

“Now listen here,” Applejack said around a mouthful of tail. “Throwin’ accusations at ponies ain’t gonna help nothin’. We’re all confused as a squirrel in a rainstorm, but yellin’ at folks who look just as lost as you ain’t gonna make this clearer.”

Rainbow’s defiance faltered, her wings folding against her sides as she grumbled under her breath. She cast a final glance at the family before reluctantly stepping back. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone still laced with frustration. “But we still don’t know what the hay is going on!”

For a moment, no one spoke; Twilight felt the oppressive silence and saw the dejected looks shared by almost everyone around her. They were all confused and looking for answers, answers that she had. It took only a moment of consideration before Twilight found the strength to speak.

“I-I believe I might have some answers,” Twilight finally said, her voice trembling but audible. The room went still as everypony’s eyes turned toward her, their anticipation almost tangible. Even Spike, perched on her back, grew nervous from the sudden attention, his nervousness told by his tightened grip around her neck.

A pegasus mare with bright orange hair—The mother in the family if the twin foals were a sign to go by—stepped forward, her expression a mixture of curiosity and unease. “What do you mean, dear?” she asked gently, though her tone carried the urgency of a pony seeking clarity amidst chaos. Twilight couldn’t blame her at all, for this was an unideal situation for all.

Twilight hesitated, her mind racing to assemble the pieces of the puzzle in a way that would make sense. She took a shaky breath, willing herself to speak.

“Have… have you ever heard of the legend of Nightmare Moon?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She almost regretted speaking by now. Almost.

The mare tilted her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Of course,” she replied, stepping closer. “But what does an old foals’ tale have to do with any of this?”

Twilight swallowed again; her nerves prickled at the edges of her composure. “Well,” she began hesitantly, “you know how the legend speaks of a pony who wanted eternal night? That pony is said to be the sister of the pony of the sun—the one who raises it, Princess Celestia.”

The mare’s eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for Twilight to continue.

“Old records,” Twilight pressed on, her voice growing steadier, “mention an opposite to the ‘Sunraiser.’ A being associated with the moon—a being called Månen.” She glanced at the family and then at her friends, her confidence wavering for a moment before she added, “In Equis, Månen roughly translates to ‘Luna’, or Moon in Ponish.”

Unfortunately, her explanation didn’t seem to suffice, as all still looked confused. “But, isn’t the mare on the moon the one and the same as Nightmare Moon? The symbol that’s supposed to represent her is still on the moon.”

Twilight faltered, her confidence crumbling under the question. “I-I don’t have an answer for that,” she admitted, her ears flattening slightly. “And from what we saw, Princess Celestia seemed to share the same doubts.”

The mother pursed her lips, stepping back into thought. Her gaze drifted momentarily to the Tempere and the slate-grey stallion standing beside her. Both seemed as though they wanted to say something, their eyes flicking towards each other with unspoken words, but after a moment, they decided against it. They deferred to the mother, their silence carrying the weight of restraint. Twilight, meanwhile, realised with a pang of embarrassment that she still didn’t know their names.…she really should ask for them eventually.

“Something still doesn’t add up,” the mare said at last, her tone thoughtful. “We found Luna as a sickly filly, not as a grown mare. But…” Her voice softened, a note of hesitant acceptance creeping in. “I suppose the princess did recognise her. And she called her by name.”

Before Twilight could respond, another voice emerged, soft yet steady. It took her a moment to place it—it was the younger stallion, his tone calm but resolute. “Luna said she’d explain everything,” he reminded them all, before turning towards his mother. “You’ve seen how… out of sorts she’s been today. We’ll just have to wait until then.”

Twilight blinked, startled by the new voice. Her gaze shifted to the stallion, who was now looking at her with a faint, almost reassuring smile. “I suppose we ought to thank you, Miss…?”

“Twilight…Twilight Sparkle. But really, there is no need to thank me; it’s just that I’ve been researching the topic for the last week or so.” She said with a small wave of her hoof.

The stallion raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into something faintly sceptical. “Spark Flint,” he introduced himself, his tone polite but curious. “And, er, why have you been researching that topic?”

Oh boy, how would she explain this? ‘Hey, sorry, but I suspected your sister was evil, and I spent a week trying to convince the princess that we should take action against her?’ Yeah, she didn’t think that was going to work.

“Oh, well,” she stammered, her mind scrambling for an acceptable explanation. “You see, Princess Celestia gave me a book of legends and prophecies. One of the stories was about Nightmare Moon, and it mentioned the Elements of Harmony. I was intrigued by the Elements, so I started researching them, and, um…”

She trailed off, the confusion on Spark Flint’s face only deepening. Her cheeks burned under his gaze, and she desperately wished for something—anything—to hide behind. But there was nothing, so she settled for an awkward cough. “Um, Basically I came across it as I fell into a rabbit hole of study…and ironically enough, your sister spent the last…” Twilight furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to recall how much time she spent with the mare, er- princess? She didn’t know. Well, that was the answer to both unasked questions, but still. “Three or so hours,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her frustration bubbled over, and she groaned, rubbing her temple with a hoof. “By Celestia, I should have seen it sooner! I mean, she was so certain that Nightmare Moon wasn’t going to return. And she knew so much about the night, more than anypony I’ve ever met. It was so obvious!”

The stallion nodded slowly, his expression softening. “I see,” he said simply, though there was still a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. Twilight almost flinched as she forgot that she wasn’t alone.

The matter at hoof remained, and as Twilight saw the many looks still aimed her way, and so wished to hide in the library, but she couldn’t. Not yet at least. Twilight sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I wish I had more answers. But for now…we’ll have to wait for Luna, er Princess Luna?” She quickly shook her head to stop prevent herself from getting into a spiral. “We’ll have to wait for your sister to explain when she’s back. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Twilight ended softly.

Spark Flint offered her a small smile, his earlier scepticism giving way to something warmer. “You’ve done more than enough,” he said. “Thank you, Twilight.”

His words, simple as they were, eased the knot in Twilight’s chest. She returned his smile, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. As the moments stretched on, the crowd in the hall began to thin. Ponies who had stayed out of curiosity or confusion trickled out in small groups, murmuring among themselves. But the family remained, their determination evident as they lingered, waiting for their missing member.

Twilight turned to leave, feeling that her part in the conversation was over when she felt a gentle tug on her mane. Startled, she glanced back to find Spike gripping a lock of her hair, his claws tightening slightly as he gestured towards a group of ponies gathered on the other side of the hall.

Before Twilight could ask what had caught his attention, she followed his pointing claw and spotted the group he meant. It was the same odd collection of mares she had encountered earlier—the ones whose energy had felt almost chaotic in its intensity. Something about them had struck her as unusual from the start, and now, seeing them lingering rather than dispersing with the rest of the crowd, that feeling only deepened.

Twilight didn’t know why, but she felt a strange sense of obligation to stay as well. Perhaps it was curiosity, or perhaps it was the nagging sense that there was more to their story—more to all of this—than she had yet uncovered. Whatever the reason, she found her hooves moving of their own accord, carrying her back into the room instead of away from it.

Silently, she trotted towards the group and lowered herself to sit nearby. The mares noticed her presence, but rather than questioning her or pressing her for explanations, they simply welcomed her into their fold. Their conversations carried on, light-hearted and flowing, as if she were already a part of their circle.

It was… unexpected. Twilight wasn’t sure how she felt about it. These ponies, who just hours ago had been strangers to her, now seemed oddly familiar in their warmth. It was disarming, and yet strangely comforting. She found herself relaxing, if only slightly, as she listened to their chatter.

Even as uncertainty lingered in the air, Twilight reminded herself why she had chosen to stay. If not for the family, and if not for these peculiar mares, then she would stay for Princess Luna. For the questions that still needed answers and the truth that would hopefully come to light.

For now, all she could do was wait.

Author's Note

I apologize for the short chapter. Initially, this was supposed to be one with the next chapter, but I got sick, so I had to split them up. To compensate, I will make sure that the next chapter is a long one. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave your opinions in the comments. They truly mean the world to me.

4: Summer Sun Celebration part-4-

Celestia did not know how much time had passed since she first embraced her sister. Time had become meaningless, a distant whisper against the tide of emotions crashing within her. All she knew was that the cold marble floor beneath them was no longer their resting place; at some point, they had moved to her bed. Where Luna silently nuzzled her chest. Celestia’s wings were wrapped around her, the elder sister did her best to conceal as much as she could of her sister from the world, even the light of her own sun.

They had not spoken a word. Celestia feared breaking the silence. She rested her head atop Luna’s, her flowing, ethereal mane draping like a curtain to veil them from all else. Her heart ached, filled with a bittersweet mixture of relief and disbelief. For a thousand years, she had resigned herself to the idea that she would never again hold her sister, that her voice would remain an echo in the chambers of memory. And now, against all odds, here Luna was—warm, breathing, alive.

She did not know what to say. How could she possibly begin? Words felt so inadequate, clumsy things that could never encapsulate the depth of her emotions. The questions that lingered at the edges of her mind—questions about the thousand years, about the visage on the moon, about the absence of Luna’s horn—felt intrusive, almost profane. To ask them now would be to risk disturbing the sanctity of this moment.

Instead, Celestia focused on the rhythmic thrum of Luna’s heartbeat, so close to her own. Each beat was a quiet affirmation: This is real. She is here. The tears that had spilt freely before had dried, but the dampness on her coat where Luna’s own had fallen remained.

For the first time in centuries, Celestia felt a semblance of peace. Her kingdom’s grand celebrations, the duties that always pulled at her, the endless noise of court and council—all of it faded into irrelevance. Here, in this quiet space, nothing mattered more than the mare nestled against her.

Yet, as eternal as the moment felt, it could not last.

The first sign was a slight shift in Luna’s posture. The nuzzles against her chest slowed, then stopped, as Luna drew in a breath that trembled with unspoken words. Celestia braced herself, her wings tightening ever so slightly, as though they could hold the moment in place.

When Luna finally spoke, her voice was soft and hesitant, a far cry from the commanding tones Celestia remembered. “Sister…” Luna paused, her voice faltering as if she were searching for the courage to continue. Her teal eyes darted to Celestia’s, then away, the fleeting contact carrying both yearning and apprehension. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against Celestia’s own, before she pulled herself back ever so slightly.

The movement was almost imperceptible, but to Celestia, it felt like the tug of a chain threatening to break. Panic gripped her heart for the briefest of moments, the irrational fear that her sister was about to slip away again igniting a spark of desperation. She tightened her wings instinctively, her feathers brushing against Luna’s sides in a silent plea to stay.

But Luna didn’t leave. Instead, she spoke again, her words measured and burdened with unspoken truths. “We… We have much to talk about, and not enough time without causing trouble. I’m sure you have a lot of questions about how I escaped my prison, but…” Her voice wavered, and her eyes darted around the room, as though unseen spectres of her past lingered in the corners. Her breathing quickened, a shallow, hurried rhythm before she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head as if banishing thoughts too painful to voice.

Without another word, she leaned forward, pressing her head against Celestia’s chest once more. The gesture was one of surrender, and yet, it carried a note of vulnerability so profound that Celestia felt her heartache. Just what had she subjected her sister to? When Luna spoke again, her voice was quieter, tinged with a sorrow that seemed ancient and unyielding.

“I’ve no wish to revisit the memories,” Luna murmured, her tone distant and raw. “All you need to know is that despite my current form…” She hesitated, a shadow of shame flitting across her face before she continued. “Despite me being a pegasus now, I am still immortal. My magic… requires it. If I were to die, it would simply disperse, disrupting harmony and order. The elements would not allow it.”

Celestia stared down at her sister, the words settling over her like a weight she hadn’t anticipated. Immortal. Her sister was still immortal. Relief flooded her chest, a joy so profound it made her dizzy. She had feared—deeply and silently—that Luna’s return would be fleeting, that the precious gift of her sister’s presence would be cruelly snatched away within a mortal lifespan. But now… now she would never have to face that loss.

Yet, beneath the relief, other emotions churned. Guilt, for what Luna had endured. Sorrow, for the pain she still carried. And an insatiable curiosity about the price her sister had paid to return. Celestia’s mind raced with questions, but none of them found their way to her lips. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid that pressing too hard might break this fragile moment. She wouldn’t allow it. She can’t allow it.

Instead, she settled for what her heart demanded most: she pulled her sister into another embrace. “I understand, Luna,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her. “I won’t ask—not until you’re ready to share.”

She leaned down, and gave a gentle peck on Luna’s forehead, just as she had done countless times when they were younger. The simple gesture brought a faint, fleeting smile to her lips, a glimmer of warmth in a sea of uncertainty. Memories of their childhood flooded her mind, of moments long past and seemingly lost to time.

Her smile turned into a slight frown before it settled as a confused expression. “Sister?” Luna’s head perked up and looked at her with curiosity, perhaps wondering about what she was about to ask. “The ponies that stood between us earlier on,” Luna’s ears quickly perked up at that, curious. “They seemed to have known for a while…and you called their eldest dad. I…I just wonder, how long has it been since you returned?”

Luna’s expression shifted, guilt casting a shadow over her features. She turned her head away, her mane falling like a curtain to obscure her face. The silence stretched on, so long that Celestia almost repeated her question.

Finally, Luna spoke, her voice quiet and heavy with shame. “Twenty-one years.”

At that, Celestia’s heart broke. Twenty-one years? Twenty-one?? It felt as if the world had tilted on its axis. Twenty-one years. Her mind reeled, the number echoing in her thoughts like a cruel refrain. Twenty-one years her sister had been back. Twenty-one years they could have been reunited. And yet… they hadn’t.

“Why?” her voice trembled with the weight of her emotions. Anger, sorrow, confusion, and a deep, gnawing sense of loss swirled within her, threatening to overwhelm her. But she couldn’t say much else; least she said something that she’ll regret so soon after she regained her sister.

“Tia…I’m sorry…it’s just…,” she sighed and turned her head away. “When I returned, it wasn’t with a change of heart but desperation to escape my prison. I was a foal yet again, sapped of all my strength, sickly, and worst of all, still filled with the hatred that made me take the name Nightmare Moon so long ago. I saw you as an enemy back then. My hatred for you reached new heights thanks to my imprisonment.”

This time, it was Celestia’s turn to look away with guilt. Luna’s imprisonment was something she regretted and hated herself for. She couldn’t blame Luna for hating her over it. “D-Do you still-”

“NO, No, by the solemn mother, no. I don’t hate you anymore. My time living as a normal pony, on the side of the observers showed me the error of my ways. Hate turned into bitterness and bitterness turned into regret. Eternal night was no way for me to gain what I wanted. For heaven’s sake, I tried to kill you. I-...I don’t want to even imagine the type of pony I would have been had I done that.”

Relief washed over Celestia, her heart aching with the sheer weight of it. “You don’t know how much it means to hear that, Luna,” she murmured, pulling her sister close once more. “I’ve dreamed of hearing those words for so long.”

Luna allowed herself to relax into the embrace, her tense frame softening as she continued. “I was lucky to be found by a family. A young couple and their foal. Tempere—she was the one who discovered me. Her parents, Marigold and Coal Flint took me in. They cared for me, nursed me back to health, and treated me as one of their own.”

Her voice wavered, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “But now… now that my secret is out, I don’t know if they’ll still see me the same way.”

Celestia’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Luna’s words, but she placed a gentle hoof on her sister’s shoulder, her touch firm and reassuring. “If they’ve cared for you this long, Luna, they won’t abandon you now. And neither will I.”

Luna’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles at the gesture, but it quickly faded. She hesitated, her eyes darting away as though searching for courage in the far corners of the room. “Perhaps… Celestia, I—” Her words faltered, caught on the edge of uncertainty. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing, though her voice trembled slightly. “I don’t plan on coming back to the castle. Or… or being a princess anymore.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, like a stone dropped into a still pond. Celestia blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Luna…” she began, but her sister pressed on, as though afraid she might lose her nerve if she stopped.

“In our youth, I wished for that life. I craved it. I yearned for the respect, the power, the adoration that came with it,” Luna said, her voice tinged with a bittersweet longing. “But as I grew older, I came to hate it. The expectations, the isolation… the endless nights of feeling like I was a shadow, overshadowed by you, the radiant sun.” Her voice cracked slightly at the last word, and she closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.

“And now?” she continued, her tone softening. “Well… I’ve come to love the life I’ve built here. It’s simple and quiet, but it’s mine. I’m a rock miner and a mountain farmer. I have friends here, ponies who know me not as Luna, Princess of the Night, but as Luna, the mare who helps harvest crops and digs for stones. I have a family here.” Her voice grew quieter, more hesitant. “They’re not a substitute for you, of course. Nothing could be. But I… I can’t abandon them.”

Celestia’s heart ached at her sister’s words. She could feel the conflict in Luna’s voice, the deep love she had for her new life warring with the lingering guilt of turning away from her old one. “You don’t need me to rule well,” Luna added, her tone almost pleading, as though seeking Celestia’s understanding. “Just look at what you’ve accomplished in the years of my absence. The kingdom flourishes under your care. You’ve done so much without me.” She paused, glancing up at Celestia with a tentative expression. “You’re my sister, and I wish for us to reconnect, but… I have no intention of returning as royalty.”

The silence that followed was thick with emotion. Celestia’s mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions she struggled to untangle. She looked at Luna, really looked at her—the faint lines of weariness etched into her face, the quiet strength in her posture, the lingering fragility in her gaze.

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come immediately. Instead, she took a moment to gather her thoughts, her heart heavy with the weight of what Luna had shared. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, yet resolute. “Luna… I never wanted you to return because I needed your help ruling. I wanted you to return because I needed you. My sister. My confidante. My other half.”

She placed a hoof gently on Luna’s shoulder, her touch light but firm. “The kingdom… yes, it has flourished. But it has done so without the beauty of your artistry, the wisdom of your dreams, the balance you bring to the cycle of day and night. I carried the burden alone because I had no choice, not because I wanted to.”

Luna looked away, her expression conflicted. “But you don’t need me now,” she murmured. “You’ve proven that.”

“That’s not the point,” Celestia said gently but firmly. “This isn’t about what I need, or what the kingdom needs. It’s about what you need, Luna. If you’ve found happiness here, in this life you’ve built… then I won’t take that away from you. I would never dream of it.”

Her voice softened, filled with warmth. “But I do hope you’ll let me be a part of it. Not as your co-ruler, or even as a princess. Just as your sister. Let me know the Luna who farms along the mountainside and mines within it. Let me meet the ponies who have become your family. Let me walk beside you in the life you’ve chosen.”

Luna’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked up at Celestia, her expression a mixture of relief and disbelief. “You… you’d do that? For me?”

Celestia smiled, her eyes shining with sincerity. It pained her to think of how she was before, for Luna to give such a reaction to this. “Of course, I would. I’ve spent a thousand years longing for you, Luna. I won’t let titles or castles come between us now.”

Luna’s lip quivered, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You always were the sentimental one, Tia,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Celestia chuckled softly, pulling her sister into another embrace. “And you always were the stubborn one,” she teased gently, her tone light despite the heaviness of the moment.

Soon, the two sisters decided it was time to return, but there was so much that each wanted to talk about, so much that they missed out on each other’s lives. Thus, they conversed as they flew all the way back to Ponyville. Luna began to share more of her life in the mountains, her words hesitant at first but growing steadier as she spoke. She told Celestia about the Flint family, about her friends in Ponyville and even of her time with Twilight last night. Celestia returned in kind, telling her stories of Cadance when she first ascended, of her many endeavours as a teacher herself, which Luna initially laughed at, not that she blamed her, considering how Celestia acted as a student herself. She still remembered the bubble incident.

Time flew by with them as they landed near the town hall. It didn’t take as long as they thought it would, but it was not a short trip. No less than 3 hours had passed since Celestia initially teleported the two of them back to the castle.

Ponies, as usual, bowed deep once they saw her but turned to look at Luna with confused and unsure expressions. She noted her sister’s unease. She hoped that it would come to pass once they explained the situation. Both sisters looked at each other with reassuring smiles before they both opened the doors and stepped inside, finding two groups inside. This was going to be an interesting day.

———————————————

Luna did her best to ignore the stares, though the weight of so many gazes bore down on her like the stone walls of the mountains she mined. The ponies of the town—her friends, neighbours, and acquaintances—were staring, their expressions a tapestry of confusion, curiosity, and guarded expectation. Their trust in her, their perception of her, would likely never be the same again. She knew that. She had no illusions that things could return to what they were before, not completely. Yet, despite herself, a flicker of hope remained—a fragile ember that refused to be extinguished.

The moment she and Celestia stepped into the town hall, it was almost empty save for her family, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. Oddly enough, her friends looked worse for wear, and their coats were slightly dirty as if they ran across the Everfree forest back and forth. Nonetheless, everypony turned toward them, their collective gaze magnifying Luna’s discomfort. She felt a slight twitch in her wings, an instinctive reaction she couldn’t suppress.

Her steps faltered ever so slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the familiar urge to retreat. To hide behind Celestia, to seek the comforting shelter of her sister’s wings like she had as a filly when the weight of their royal duties had grown too much. Almost. But Luna steeled herself, her resolve solidifying. She couldn’t allow herself to regress into the frightened mare she had once been—not now, not after two decades spent forging a life of her own. She hadn’t survived the trials of the past to crumble in the face of hard truths.

Celestia followed two steps behind, her presence a silent comfort. Luna was grateful for her sister’s silent support, yet she knew this was her moment to lead, to speak her truth, to face the ponies she had come to call family and friends. As her gaze swept the room, her eyes landed on familiar faces: her siblings, her parents, and her friends and Twilight Sparkle. She hadn’t expected Twilight to remain, as she only had known her for a day, but then she remembered that the young mare was a student of her sister. Thus it was likely that she had waited for Celestia. Luna made a mental note to address Twilight later, but for now, her focus remained on her family.

A chorus of voices called out to her before she could take another step. The twins, Petal and Ember, rushed forward, their expressions a mixture of worry and excitement. Before she could say a word, they embraced her tightly, wrapping their forelegs around her in a gesture that spoke of unwavering affection. Tiberius, her ever-faithful possum companion, scampered up her neck, nuzzling into her mane. He whispered softly, his words only for her ears. Not that any other (other than that of Fluttershy) could understand him, “Later, tell me what happened, my Luna. And then, I shall regale you with my own marvellous adventures!” His dramatic tone made her chuckle, a brief reprieve from the tension in her heart.

With a fond shake of her head. She spread her wings, drawing her siblings close in a protective embrace. Despite the storm of emotions within her, their warmth provided a measure of comfort.

The twins began speaking all at once, their words overlapping in an excited torrent that Luna couldn’t hope to decipher. She couldn’t help but laugh softly at their enthusiasm, though her smile faltered when they suddenly froze, their eyes widening as they noticed the imposing figure of Celestia standing behind her. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Luna slipped away from their embrace and turned toward her parents, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—the moment she had dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

She took a deep breath, her wings twitching as she steadied herself. You’ve faced worse than this, Luna. You can do this. Her voice trembled slightly as she began, but she forced herself to press on. “I… I know I have a lot to explain. I should have spoken sooner, but I thought it best to share everything at once.”

Marigold, ever the nurturing presence, opened her mouth to protest, but Luna quickly shook her head. “No, Mom, I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need to say this.”

Marigold hesitated, her concern evident in her soft eyes. She exchanged a glance with Coal Flint, who nodded silently, his expression unreadable. Tempere and Flint stood nearby, both uncharacteristically quiet. Flint’s gaze was fixed intently on her, his brow furrowed in thought, while Tempere’s eyes darted to Celestia, she looked almost weary and uneasy.

Luna drew another deep breath, steadying herself for the truth she was about to unveil. “To begin… yes, Celestia—Princess Celestia—is my sister. My blood sister. And I…” Her voice faltered, her throat tightening with emotion. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to continue. “I was a princess of Equestria. Long ago.”

The weight of the admission settled over the room like a heavy fog, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Luna could feel the tension in the air; she expected more of a reaction from everyone, but they seemed content to listen, and for that, she was thankful. Thus, she pressed on, her voice growing steadier as she spoke. “I… I was Nightmare Moon.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to echo in the stillness. “I let my jealousy and resentment consume me, and I nearly disrupted harmony. But I failed. My actions led to my imprisonment on the moon for a thousand years.”

She paused to collect her emotions and to let it all settle in. She expected more shock and fear, but oddly enough, the most common reaction was a quick glance at Twilight, who stood a small step back. Soon attention returned to her.

She turned her head to her parents “You took me in, cared for me without knowing who—or what—I was. You gave me a chance to heal, to start over.”

Her voice cracked, and she looked down, barely able to meet their eyes. “I should have told you the truth sooner. I was afraid. Afraid of how you’d look at me, of what you’d think of me. I didn’t want to lose the family I had found. But… I understand if you hesitate to take me back now.” Her words trailed off into silence, her heart hammering in her chest as she awaited their response.

For a moment, nopony spoke. The silence was deafening, each second stretching into an eternity. Then, Marigold stepped forward, her expression softening as she reached out to place a hoof on Luna’s cheek. “Oh, my dear, you are my daughter, Luna. Nothing will change that. Not the past, not your mistakes, not your title. You are family.”

Coal Flint stepped forward as well, his expression soft. “You should’ve told us sooner,” he said with a slight annoyance but there was no anger in his voice. “But you’re still our Luna. That hasn’t changed.”

Before Luna could react, both her parents embraced her, their hooves pulling her into a cocoon of love and acceptance. She blinked, utterly stunned. How? How could they accept her so easily? She had just confessed to being Nightmare Moon—the mare of legend, the monster that foals whispered about in the dead of night. She had admitted to nearly plunging the world into eternal chaos, driven by jealousy and bitterness, and yet… they welcomed her as if nothing had changed.

Her heart swelled with joy, but it was tempered by confusion and disbelief. This is too good to be true, she thought, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. It felt too easy, too simple. A part of her couldn’t help but question it. What had happened in the hours she had been gone? How could they accept the truth with such grace, without even a hint of fear or anger?

Still cocooned in their embrace, Luna’s mind raced, searching for answers. She wanted to trust in their love, to let herself believe that she deserved this kindness, but doubt gnawed at her edges. She didn’t know whether to cry, to laugh, or to retreat into herself.

When her parents finally stepped back, her gaze shifted to her siblings. Flint Spark, her ever-curious brother, stood a little apart, his lips curled into an amused smile. His eyes twinkled as if he had already guessed how this would play out. In stark contrast, Tempere’s expression was sombre, her brows furrowed with worry. The sight sent a pang through Luna’s heart.

Tempere took a step forward, her voice steady but laced with unease. “Does… does that mean you’re leaving us? Are you saying goodbye and asking for forgiveness? Is that what you’re doing?”

The words hit Luna like a physical blow, the mere thought of leaving them twisting her heart painfully. She flinched, her wings twitching as her composure wavered. “W-What?” Her voice cracked as she stumbled over her words. “This isn’t goodbye, Tempere. I’m not going anywhere. I—” She paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’m merely asking if I’m able to stay.”

Tempere’s eyes searched hers, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. “Stay?” she asked softly, her voice almost hesitant. “Yeah right, so you’re saying that you’re not getting your title back? Not leaving the semi-secluded mountain for the castle? You wish to stay? As our…” Her words trailed off, but Luna understood the unspoken question.

Luna nodded fervently, stepping closer to her sister. “Yes, as your sister,” she said firmly, her voice gaining strength. “I may have been a princess once, but that part of my life is behind me. Here, I have found something more valuable than any crown or title. I have found family, friends, purpose.” Her voice softened as she continued, her gaze steady and pleading. “If you’ll still have me, I wish to remain here. With all of you.”

Tempere’s sombre expression melted into one of quiet relief, though a trace of doubt lingered in her eyes. “You’re not just saying that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Luna said, her tone resolute. “I mean every word.”

Flint Spark, who had been silent until now, let out a low chuckle, stepping forward to place a hoof on Luna’s shoulder. “Well, I guess this makes you the most interesting sister in Equestria,” he teased, his grin wide and mischievous. “Who knew that the oh-so-feared Nightmare Moon is the same mare who’s afraid of bees?

His lighthearted words eased some of the tension, and Luna managed a small smile. Tempere finally stepped closer, hesitating for only a moment before pulling Luna into a tight hug. “Good, because I would have dragged you back home. You’re not a princess; you’re my possum-loving devil of a sister.”

Luna’s tears flowed freely now, her doubts and fears momentarily silenced by the unwavering love of her family. She clung to Tempere as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace she had found. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you all.”

Luna reluctantly let go of Tempere, her heart still full from the warmth of her family’s acceptance. Her gaze drifted to the group of ponies standing not far off—her friends, gathered together and chatting animatedly with Celestia. She hesitated, her hooves momentarily rooted to the ground as she took in the scene before her. They seemed so at ease with her sister, as if they had known her for years rather than just hours. It was a small comfort to see the two parts of her life beginning to intertwine.

Taking a steadying breath, Luna stepped forward to join them. As she neared, she caught the tail end of Celestia’s voice, warm and regal as ever. “Twilight Sparkle, my ever-faithful student,” she said, her tone brimming with pride, “I am glad you used this opportunity to make friends. Very well then, I, Princess Celestia, hereby decree that Twilight Sparkle is to remain in Ponyville, where she will send me reports of what she learns about the magic of friendship until further notice.”

Luna’s eyes flicked to Twilight, whose lavender coat practically glowed with excitement. The young unicorn’s joy was palpable, her expression one of pure delight as her friends quickly enveloped her in a group hug. Luna couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips, nor the soft chuckle that escaped her as she raised a hoof to stifle the sound.

“It seems they’ve had an eventful morning of their own,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of amusement.

Celestia turned to her, her eyes alight with a gentle warmth. “Indeed they have,” she replied, her voice soft and sisterly as she extended a single wing to drape over Luna’s back. The touch was light, yet it carried a reassurance that made Luna feel grounded.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, side by side, watching as Twilight and her newfound friends celebrated their shared triumph. The silence between the two sisters was companionable, a far cry from the heavy, strained silences of the past. Luna allowed herself to sink into the moment, savouring the peace that had eluded her for so long.

Yet, there was more she needed to say. More she wanted to ask. Luna turned her head, her eyes searching Celestia’s face for a sign of openness before she spoke again. “You know… we are staying the night here,” she began tentatively, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “And if you’re not busy today… perhaps you could stay with us?”

Celestia’s ears perked slightly, and she turned her full attention to her sister. Luna continued, encouraged by the lack of rejection in her sister’s gaze. “It would be a good opportunity to introduce you to everyone. The ponies here—they’re important to me. They’ve been my family for so long, and I’d like for you to meet them properly.” She paused, her voice softening as she added, “And, well… I’d love to spend the rest of the holiday with you around.”

The words hung in the air between them, fragile but genuine. Luna’s heart thudded in her chest as she awaited Celestia’s response, her wings twitching slightly in anticipation.

Celestia’s expression melted into a tender smile, her eyes shimmering with something that looked very much like relief. “I’d be honoured, Luna,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to spend time with you and the ponies you hold dear.”

The tension that Luna hadn’t even realised she was holding in her shoulders eased, replaced by a lightness that felt almost foreign. She offered her sister a small, genuine smile, her chest filling with a quiet joy.

“Thank you,” Luna said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.

Celestia’s wing tightened ever so slightly around her, pulling her closer in a gesture of comfort and affection. “There’s nothing to thank me for, sister,” she said. “This is where I want to be.”

Luna smiled and leaned into her sister’s embrace, she was glad to be rid of the burden of secrets, she was glad to have her sister back, she was glad to have her family still, and most of all, she was glad that everything turned out so well. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Celestia’s scent was always a pleasant one. It brought happy memories with it, and Luna was more than glad to add another one to the list.

For the first time in a long time, Luna found herself truly at peace.

Author's Note

I apologize for this not being as long as I promised, but sickness is refusing to leave my side, and thus this is what my muse and health allowed me to come up with. I sincerely hope you enjoy.

P.S. Happy New Year!