Luna wasn’t normally up so early in the day, and if it was any other occasion, any other reason, she wouldn’t even bother to care. Not when so few ponies bothered to care about her.

But one pony did. And right now, that one pony needed her. It was just one more terrible factor in her life that this was the only time anymore he was really awake.

She pushed the door to the castle’s medical ward open, cringing internally as the hinges groaned. None of the healer unicorns that were about would stop her from coming in if she really pressed the issue, but she’d rather not have to undergo some sort of confrontation. Especially because half the time they’d deny her entry without Celestia’s permission.

Always Celestia. Celestia’s permission. Celestia’s healing ward. Celestia’s unicorns. But not Celestia’s Royal Fool.

No. She pushed down the bile in her throat and banished those thoughts away. Not right now. There were more pressing matters, and they were laying on a soft bed in front of her, looking out of a stained glass window.

Peritwinkle’s color had faded, light whimsical blue desaturated almost to the point where he was grey, and his bells had been taken away for his health; the healers had said something about the silver exacerbating his condition.

It was hard to see anything left of her Royal Fool in the withered stallion in the bed. That wouldn’t stop her from trying.

His eyes lit up when he saw her approach, some of the color coming back as she stepped forward. At least the disease hadn’t taken that part of him away.

“Luna…” he beamed, sitting up as best he could. “You’re up late. Should you even be up? I mean, is that good for the foal?”

Still fussing over her, even while sick in bed. Luna tried to put on a brave face.

“We are fortunate that your daughter is quite the heavy sleeper, unless particularly spicy foods are involved. How are you though? Have the healers been tending to your needs? I have tried to make it clear the importance of their latest patient but…”

“Luna please, the only other pony here is a guard that I’m fairly certain just likes the attention, the worst thing they do is try to suggest that leeches are—”

Whatever joke he had prepared was interrupted by a coughing fit, and not a gentle one. He hacked and sputtered, and Luna was worried that he might somehow cough up a lung, or bruise a rib, but he held up a hoof when she rushed to aid him.

“Just g-give me a moment…”

Each cough brought with it tiny black particles in the air. They’d shimmer a bit before disappearing, and if one truly looked closely they could see that they weren’t little dots of diseased particulates. They were runes.

Thaumic Rot. Witch Plague. Wizard’s Blight. Whatever one called it in whatever corner of Equestria they were in, it was the same malady either way.

A terminal sickness, brought on by dark magic.

“Ow.”

If there was a silver lining to anything that happened in the past few weeks, it’s that the Fool’s illness wasn’t contagious. Peritwinkle wouldn’t let Luna near him until he was assured of that. Not if there was a chance it could harm the baby.

“Sorry,” he leaned back, sighing. “I’m not… It’s hard to do anything humorous. Nothing feels good right now, Luna. Even without bells, it’s hard to stay a Fool like this.”

“Are you in pain? I could bring you something, perhaps cast a pain relieving spell or…”

He shook his head. “The coughing hurts, but that’s not really it.”

“Then what is wrong?”

Peritwinkle said nothing, merely turning to stare out the window at the castle grounds. It was a beautiful Spring day outside. All the days had been beautiful. It helped to have a royal weather team to ensure endless sunshine.

But it wasn’t like it mattered much anymore.

“My love?”

“I don’t want to die, Luna,” he said finally. “I don’t… I know ponies are supposed to be serene in their final days, as if they’ve accepted it but I… I don’t want to go. I’m scared.”

Luna gave him a confident stare. “There have been breakthroughs in healing in Equestria these past few years; Meadowbrook alone pioneered cures to maladies that would have been death sentences just a decade ago. Surely—”

“I’m not turning into a tree and I don’t have feathers to get feather flu with. Put as many ointments or give me as many potions, but my malady is magical in nature. There’s a rogue spell tearing my insides up. I’m going to die, I—”

“You are not going to die, my love,” Luna’s confident stare became a hard one. She hoped that was reassuring. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing. “And if… it comes to pass, you will be remembered.”

“Remembered,” he gave her a dark look.

Luna tried to assure him further. “You said once that you want to leave behind an unavoidable impact on the comedy world, yes? We could publish your writings. There is talk of establishing the position of Royal Fool further, even as your and Big Top’s portraits hang in the galleries now, you could leave behind a legacy—”

“To hell with legacy! You’re what matters to me! I’ll never see your smile again, I’ll never…” He put his face in his hooves. “I’ll never live to see her face. I’ll never hold our daughter, or sing her to sleep, or teach her how to juggle or… or…”

Something broke in the Fool, and he began to cry.

Luna had tried, she didn’t know what to do, or how to do it. Her Royal Fool had been the confident one, the stallion who pretended that everything would always be alright. And now he was sitting there, sobbing like a foal.

Then if nothing else, she’d be right there with him. Let her be the rock for once. She pulled in closer to him, nuzzling him as his sobs quieted. If she didn’t know what to say, then she wouldn’t say anything.

“Right now I’d give anything to meet her, or just…” He whispered finally, tears falling. “Anything to be more than a story she’ll read.”

Luna paused. She had thought about this, after the healers had demanded constant bedrest. But her other attempts at reassurance had blown up spectacularly.

But if there was a chance to make her Fool smile, she owed it to both of them to at least put the option on the table.

“There… there may be a solution. A way for you to at least… see her.”

“More magic,” he huffed, giving way to a sigh. “I suppose there’s not much left to lose there. It’s not time travel magic is there? From what you told me of Chronosia, I don’t think I want to risk exploding.”

“It is a form of time magic, but it is not that kind of spell. The risk is…” Luna looked down. “Of a different nature.”

“What’s it do?”

“It would preserve you, in a way. A brief part of you, a…” she struggled to find the words. “A moment of stolen time, crystallized and kept as a living memory. Then one day, when she was ready, she could… meet you.”

“I know you, Luna,” he looked up at her, reading her like an open book despite her best attempt at an impassive expression. “This doesn’t sound like a spell that doesn’t have some sort of ironic twist, and it sounds like a bad one. What’s this risk?”

“I cannot fashion time out of nothing. A moment for a moment.”

He leaned back in the bed, closing his eyes in understanding. “It’d shorten my lifespan.”

“By an hour, I believe.”

“Only an hour? Would that mean that the… The moment would also only be an hour?”

“Yes, but in that hour, you would be whole.”

“It’s not enough time,” he said quietly.

“But it would be time all the same.”

They sat there in silence.

“Do it.” He said finally.

“Are you absolutely certain? I know the option is there but… You are…” Luna couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Even an hour of life is no doubt precious to—”

“No! It’s not precious, Luna. An hour to a dying stallion is time wasted on prolonging the inevitable… But an hour that a filly could spend with her father, even a minute where he could tell her how much she means to him…”

He looked down, smiling. “I bet I could teach her to juggle in an hour.”

The day of the funeral was sunny. It shouldn’t have been sunny. It shouldn’t have been a funeral. The Fool had insisted on a wake; one final party to send him off and let ponies remember him as he wanted to be, with folks dancing in the halls as thunder and lightning pounded a beat outside.

That was the fantasy, he had told her. But who listened to what a Fool actually wanted? Such a royal position demanded a somber affair, and Celestia had mandated the pegasus teams clear the skies to give the Royal Court’s brightest ray of sunshine a proper sendoff.

He hadn’t been her ray of sunshine, Luna fumed. This wasn’t what he wanted.

Celestia stood by his casket and gave a grand speech, every attendee that pretended to know him sitting rapt with attention about his skills, the best moments he had allowed them to see, how Equestria would never know a soul as kind and gentle as his again.

At least that last part was true.

Luna said nothing. It’s not like anyone would have listened anyway. So much of her was wrapped up in illusion magic. With merely a few months left to go in her pregnancy, she couldn’t risk showing herself like that to the court.

And the illusion helped hide the tears as well. She could barely keep it together, even casting spells risked her breaking down and sobbing herself to sleep on the spot. At this point, only a familiar fluttering near her stomach kept her going. Her daughter needed her; he’d understand, right?

She touched a hoof to the crystal necklace around her neck. The moment of frozen time felt warm against her skin, the arcane energy of it confirmation that the spell had worked.

She didn’t know if it had been worth it. But then, would an hour have saved her from despair?

No. It wouldn’t have. Either way she couldn’t deal with it. That’s why it was Celestia giving the eulogy.

That was why it was Celestia’s horn that glowed and lowered his casket into the ground.

That was why it was Celestia who said goodbye to him.

That’s why Celestia always got whatever she wanted.

One by one, the ponies at the funeral had given their last respects and left. The only consolation Luna had is that his friends, his real friends, his real family, had come up to her first and offered condolences. The rest, and there had been a fair bit more, always inquired after her sister instead.

And now her sister was the only other pony besides her left. Both of them were sitting and staring at the gravestone they had placed. Luna didn’t even bother to read what it said, it was probably wrong anyway.

“Celestia,” it was the first thing the alicorn had said in hours.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

It was just a simple question. It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t teasing. It still felt like both.

“How did you—”

“Luna, I’m not an idiot. All the time you spent away from court and you always happened to bring the Royal Fool along? The furtive glances, the blushing? You’ve spent this entire funeral just… shut down. You loved him.”

Luna just sat there.

“I did. I still do.”

Celestia turned to her, expression as stately and neutral as the practiced queen she was. Luna knew that look, and shut her eyes, preparing for a lecture, cringing…

Right as Celestia pulled her sister in with her wings, hugging her.

“I’m so sorry, baby sister. I wish you had told me. I thought you made a nice couple,” her sister whispered.

It was the final straw. The light teasing, the way she saw right through Luna’s facade. One of those hugs, full of warmth and feathers, like the kind Luna had sought back when they were fillies.

The kind that reminded her of the old Celestia. The big sister she looked up to. The one she could tell anything to. Not the spotlight stealer and, as far as Equestria was concerned, the only real ruling princess.

The big sister who was always there for her. Another kick from the foal she was carrying, as if telling her to take a leap of faith.

Luna broke the hug and pushed Celestia back, looking up at her.

“I need to show you something. I need to ask you something, Tia. And you have to promise me that you will not tell another pony, at all.”

“What are you—” Celestia blinked as Luna’s horn glowed, the illusion dropping and showing Luna tear-stained face, her enlarged belly. Celestia’s wings flared out in complete shock.

“Luna,” The older mare breathed in utter disbelief. “Is this…”

“Help me, Celestia. Please.”

Celestia looked the smaller alicorn up and down, eyes wet. Then she quickly pulled her back in for a hug, stroking her gently as Luna broke down, finally able to weep openly.

“I’m here, little sister. Always.”

Author's Note

Thanks to Trolleytrainer for the proofread.