The snow came down, and it came down hard.

As much as royalty was afforded the comforts of pegasus-controlled custom weather, sooner or later the seasons had to be given priority. Too many sunny spring days by Celestia’s decree had meant that this winter was going to be a bad one. Not enough to starve or freeze anypony, thank the stars, but certainly enough to where the unicorns on staff had become quite adept at shoveling snow. Apparently several new spells had been invented just to help with such a task, including a persistent and rather terrifying fire-spouting one developed by a disgruntled guard who said he didn’t have the patience to “shovel four hundred thousand tons of white bullshit”.

Peritwinkle had told her with the blizzard and winter being what it was, more ponies wouldn’t be willing to risk the cold when they could figure out their problems themselves. He said that even Celestia’s Day Court wasn’t getting many petitioners.

Not much comfort that, seeing as Luna’s court hadn’t seen any petitioners in months. Her mood had been dark, the comfort and love of her Fool a single burning ember in the frozen hearth of her life. Even these nights were becoming too long for her.

She needed a distraction. She needed to get away, at least for one night. That’s why she was doing this.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Her Fool looked up from the little desk, where he was writing, next to her throne. The entire thing was comical, and probably would have gone over well if the room hadn’t been empty. He said he didn’t mind; it let him focus on his work.

“Sorry,” he spat the quill out. “Had to get the last matrices right. Didn’t have time today, there was a huge influx of farmers complaining about snowstorms to Princess Celestia today. Thank the stars that something simple like a pie trick is enough to calm those ponies down.”

Luna frowned, striding out of her throne. “Please. No talk of Celestia or the court or the castle.”

“Or the weather?”

“Especially the weather,” cringed Luna. “For now I just want it to be you and I, and a warm night.”

“I beg your pardon Your Highness, but while I am happy to provide Equestria’s shining example of ethereal beauty with my unworthy company—”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?”

“You seem to need the compliments more than usual,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I don’t think I can stop a blizzard any more than I can juggle the moon.”

“You are fortunate then, my love, for I can do both.”

“Don’t juggle the moon Luna.”

“I am simply saying, should the need arise, I can,” Luna wrapped her wing around Peritwinkle, pulling him closer. “As for the blizzard…”

Horn glowing, a bubble of dark blue magical energy formed around them, and in an instant, they were no longer in the castle, and it was no longer snowing. Instead, they stood looking out over a sea of dunes beneath an overcast evening sky.

“The Aldmareris Desert; a continent away and far from Equestria’s blizzards. Quite difficult to get snowed on in a land that never snows,” she declared proudly.

Peritwinkle gazed out over the dunes, stunned at the sheer range of Luna’s teleportation, until the scholar in him took over, turning back to his alicorn lover with a quizzical look.

“Odd. I would have thought it would still be cold. As I recall, air in a desert is too dry to retain heat during the night.”

Luna nodded. “A normal desert, yes. But the Aldmareris is unique. Millennia ago, it was a lush arcane forest.”

“Well… it’s a desert now.”

“A horrific cataclysm will make a desert out of any place, I suppose,” Luna waved a hoof. “The magic still permeates the air, however, warming it when the sun cannot, hence the cloud cover. It’s one of the most naturally magical places in the world and… are you sticking your tongue out?”

“Mmhmm.” His tongue flicked back into his mouth. “Tastes like citrus.”

“Lord Peritwinkle, I refuse to believe that anypony is capable of tasting magic!”

“Oh?” He glanced over at her slyly. “And have you tested that hypothesis?”

Luna frowned, then hesitantly stuck out her own tongue. Her eyes widened, smacking her lips as she thought for a moment.

“Lime I believe.”

“Ha! I’m surprised you never tasted it before.”

Luna huffed. “Well some of us have had hobbies other than tasting magical energies,” She paused. “I wonder if different forms of magic taste differently. This requires further study.”

“I mean, if you’ve got something magical you’d like me to stick my face in, it’ll probably still taste like lime all the same.”

“You will lick what I tell you to lick, Fool.”

“And I will do it happily, Your Highness,” he held out a hoof. “Shall I escort you to… I assume it's some sort of desert villa? A sandy chateau?”

“Hardly anything so grand, but I believe you shall appreciate it all the same,” she took his hoof, horn glowing once again as the sand around them parted and drained away, revealing that they had been standing on the precipice of a stone stairwell, a door at the bottom opening slowly.

“Shall we?”

Peritwinkle stared open-mouthed at the carved murals and the glow of lights with no apparent fire, striding through it as Luna trotted beside him proudly.

“Incredible, the intricacy on these tiles alone means it must’ve taken ages to carve. And with those murals being of Gusty the Great, this must make this place centuries old!”

“Five thousand,” clarified Luna. “Give or take a few decades.”

“Five thousand? It’s in near perfect condition.”

“Thank you, it has been quite the endeavor to restore it all.”

“Restored? You did this?”

“It was once a waystation for a great kingdom, now as lost to time as the forests of Aldmareis,” mused Luna. “It’s taken me the better part of seven years to dig it out and restore the spells to working condition. Only now is it ready.”

“Ready for—?”

“Us,” Luna strode across the threshold at the end of the hallway into the wide room beyond. Plans and books sat strewn about, while various tools of an alicorny nature were tucked away in small alcoves here and there. A large and comfortable bed lay in the center, Luna moving towards it while pointing out the other doorways along the walls.

“A larder that preserves food, a small bathhouse, other rooms that once served as quarters for additional ponies. Now, I suppose, they could be anything we wanted.”

Luna trotted over to the bed, hopping up on it and sighing in comfort as she stretched out. Peritwinkle hesitated, his face beginning to turn a shade of red. Luna just rolled her eyes.

“Come now, my lord. Surely our time together as lovers has not made you feel as if you need a written invitation to join the Princess of the Night in bed?”

Swallowing hard, he awkwardly climbed up onto the sheets, laying down on his back next to Luna as they stared up at the rocky ceiling.

“It’s a really comfortable bed.”

“Indeed. You would not believe the difficulty in trying to teleport a mattress down here. Of course, the view makes it all the more worth it.”

“It’s a very nice ceiling, I agree.”

Luna giggled, pointing a hoof up and lighting up her horn. The ceiling above them began to fade away, washed away like paint on stone, revealing the cloudy sky above them. Another wave of her hoof, and the clouds parted. Her lover gasped. High above them, there were thousands upon thousands of stars. The entire sky was filled with them, twinkling like distant gemstones.

“The staff keep the castle well lit, too well lit. Between that and the winter snow, it can sometimes be hard to witness the night as it should be. Here though, there’s nothing to get in the way.”

“It’s beautiful…” He breathed, awestruck.

“It is?” She shot him a surprised look.

“Beyond beautiful. I— You made these, didn’t you? The stars.”

She frowned. “Y-yes?”

“You’re an incredible mare, Luna.”

Her frown just deepened, confusing feelings swirling around in her.

“I had hoped more would see it that way…” She admitted.

He rolled over to look at the princess. “Luna?”

“...Do I matter to ponies?” She asked quietly.

“Of course you do!”

“You are the first pony I have ever met that has called my stars beautiful. My court sits empty and it seems every noblestallion or lady I meet wouldn’t give the night a second thought. It’s something to be slept through while they wait for the sun. To them, I might as well not exist. What I do is just… something that is in the way of what truly matters. Better that I just leave it all behind.”

“If they think that way then, and I beg your pardon, your highness, they’re assholes.”

“Peritwinkle!”

“It’s true though,” He gave her a hard look. “I… I used to want to matter too. I wanted my name spoken of with the same reverence that they give Custardpants, or the Great Whitewash, even. To be the clown to end all clowns.”

“I… I do not know who those ponies are.”

“That’s why my dreams changed, Luna. That night I met you was the most wonderful night of my life. But how many of the nobles that watched me perform do you think will remember me? How many of them do you think even remember me right now?”

“I will never forget that night, at least, my love.”

“Exactly,” he sat up, taking her hooves in his. “You are what matters to me, Luna. My friends matter. My family does. I don’t make jokes or tricks for the crowd. I make jokes for them. For you.”

“I suppose we are both artists, in our own way,” Luna admitted.

“You’re the greatest artist I know, Luna. There are ponies out there that already adore what you’ve created; stargazers and late night scholars, even your sister.”

“I doubt that,” Luna fought the rising hackles that seemed to come about whenever Celestia was mentioned.

“Do you?”

“...No,” she admitted. “I would miss her, I would miss the castle.”

“And she’d miss your constellations. We juggle the balls we’re given, Luna. Move the stars for the ponies who matter to you, because I guarantee that you matter to them.”

He touched her face with his hoof. “You matter to me.”

Both of them laid back down, gazing back up at the stars.

“I lost count of them, you know,” she said finally. “It sounds silly, as I put them up there to begin with, but I have no idea how many stars there are anymore. Truthfully, I prefer to focus on crafting individual constellations.”

Her lover followed her gaze, scratching his chin for a moment.

“Two.”

“What?”

“There’s at least two stars up there,” he concluded.

“Two—” Luna blinked, then laughed. “Why yes, dearest Fool, I suppose you are correct. There are at least two stars up there.”

“Maybe more,” he smiled.

“Maybe more!”

“Feel better?” He said, nuzzling his muzzle into her neck.

“Somewhat,” she sighed, wrapping her wings around him. “One can never say you aren’t dedicated to your job, my Fool.”

“That is what I want to do with my life now, Luna. I want to make you laugh.”

“Always?”

“Always and anything. A day spent making you happy is a day fulfilled.”

“Anything?

“Anything. Within reason,” he said. “Juggling the moon, for example, may be a bit beyond me. And I believe it might offend Your Highness if I were to handle her sacred charge.”

“No moon juggling, I promise. But…” She hesitated. “May I request something else?”

“I live to serve, Princess.”

“Could you stay with me tonight?”

He looked up at her, face red as her own. “You mean—”

“I want to be with you. No stolen moments, no slinking in secret for a chaste kiss. I want it to just be you and me. I want to feel like nothing else matters.”

“Won’t Equestria notice our extended leave of absence?”

Luna pulled him in tighter. “I have been told that they also do not matter. Not right now.”

He gulped, again. Bright red really showed up on light blue too easily. Even she, internally, was close to panicking.

But she wanted this. She wanted him. Nopony else mattered.

He leaned forward, lips meeting hers, before his muzzle moved down to her neck.

“May I make you happy, princess?” He whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You may,” she said gently.

“Peritwinkle?”

“Yes, Luna?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

This time, it wasn’t the desert, but a peaceful clearing on a warm summer night. It was another one of Luna’s secret spots, the perfect place for a midnight picnic.

Though she towered over him and could possibly move a small mountain with her magic, the Royal Fool insisted on carrying the picnic supplies. Something about not wanting to cause her undue stress.

It was a noble thought, in its own adorable way, so she let him fawn and fuss over her. After all, she had as much experience being a pregnant alicorn as he did with caring for one. Neither knew what to expect.

Perhaps it was best to take it easy. The aches and morning sickness weren’t something she looked forward to, but already she’d be ready to shatter the moon if it meant giving her daughter the best possible life. Making a few sacrifices and letting her Fool shoulder some of the burden was a small price to pay.

At a little less than halfway along in her pregnancy, she had started to show. While the couple had reluctantly admitted that Luna’s Night Court would remain as empty as the royal cake vaults after Celestia had too many glasses of hard cider, she still had enough royal duties and enough ponies needing her attention that an illusion spell was somewhat necessary. After all, an unwed pregnant mare may raise questions at court, but an unwed pregnant princess would cause absolute scandal.

And at this point the nobility were chomping at the bit for something salacious. The Royal Pony Sisters provided an annoying dearth of gossip, Celestia’s late night vault raids aside.

But here, in a clearing only she and her hidden lover knew about, she could relax. No illusions, no secrets. It almost felt normal, in a way. It certainly felt right.

She looked across the lantern light at the object of her affections. Some day, they could be open about all this. Some day, he’d sit by her side as Prince Consort, and there’d be no more secret picnics or hidden trysts in the lost places of the world she’d dug up.

He might look good in royal raiments, he certainly looked adorable with that quill in his mouth, face scrunched in concentration as he scribbled away in a notebook next to her.

“Another treatise on rubber chicken physics, my love?”

“Maybe for when she’s older,” he spat the quill out, eyes briefly flicking down to her belly. “For now, I want to start with something classical. A gift from the heart, one might say. Something that, years from now, she can look at and always know how much she means to me.”

“I am sure she appreciates the effort.”

“I’m hoping she will. You only really get one shot to be a dad for the first time.”

“A dad?”

“A father,” he clarified, clearing his throat again. “Sorry, it’s an earth pony term. If one were to spend time cavorting around in village taverns for your minstrel electives you’d hear the word often enough.”

“A minstrel?” Luna’s ears perked up. “You never told me you were a bard!”

“Not the best one, Luna. Or even a decent one. My time playing the lute was a dark age in Equestria, to say the least.”

“Perhaps, but how is your singing voice?”

“Far less beautiful than yours, dear. Why?”

Gingerly, Luna sat on her haunches in front of him, her horn glowed briefly, and a lute suddenly appeared before her, she looked up at him expectantly.

Peritwinkle sighed, putting his notebook away. “Luna…”

“You would decline an opportunity to serenade the mother of your foal?” She pouted. “And surely you would not deny your daughter the gift of her father’s singing voice as well?”

Now it was Peritwinkle’s turn to be indignant. “I would never!”

Luna just grinned, and he finally rolled his eyes, smiling back. “Princess or not, I’m going to spoil her rotten, aren’t I?”

“A Royal Fool outwitted and manipulated by a foal? One would hope not,” Luna laid down, placing her head in his lap, trying to get more comfortable. “Though I suppose she would learn at an early age how to manipulate her ‘dad’. Children can be quite perceptive in such matters. I myself managed many crocodile tears when it came to matters of cookies from Star Swirl, back when I was a filly.”

The Fool paused as he brought the lute up in his forelegs, clearing his throat again. “Ah. Star Swirl. Right.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Well as a tavern bard most of the songs I know are all rather… bawdy.”

“A bit of bawd is good for a developing infant.”

“And most of them involve Star Swirl, and his staff.”

“Hence the hesitation. Believe me, my love, you are not going to surprise me. I’ve heard them all at this point. Celestia and I invented a few of them as teenagers ourselves.”

“I— Wait, really?”

“There is nothing in Equestria more inspired towards ribald lyrics than a filly chafing at curfew, I assure you. We should both be prepared for Twilight to do the same, perhaps to even worse extremes, if she inherits our penchant for literacy.”

Peritwinkle shot her a confused look. “Twilight?”

She put a hoof to her stomach. “Twilight Sparkle. It was that, or Aurora. But as those do not appear this far south, I thought it less appropriate.”

He sat there for a moment, eyes watering. Blinking away a few small tears, he hefted the lute up.

“Well then, Twilight Sparkle, consider this one for you.” He cleared his throat to begin, which turned into a cough.

“Sorry, the summer air’s a bit dry I suppose. Now, how’s that one about the knob go—”

Peritwinkle began to cough again, and again. Harder, wetter, hacking and wheezing. Bits of small black particles began to come out of his mouth, causing Luna to jolt up.

“My love? What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?!”

“Luna… I don’t… I think we might have to reschedule this private concert.”

Breaths growing short, he fell to the ground, unconscious.

“Peritwinkle!”

Author's Note

Fun fact: the earliest known instance of the word 'dad' was apparently in the 1500s.

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.