The crisp autumn evening air carries the scent of spices and mulled cider as you shuffle along the lamp-lit streets of Ponyville. All around you, festive decor adorns shop windows and doorways–twinkling jack-o-lanterns, paper bats fluttering on strings, and cheerfully macabre scenes depicting smiling ghosts and other innocuous symbols.
It's Nightmare Night in this quaint little pony village, the annual celebration when everypony dons spooky costumes and gorges on sugary treats well into the wee hours. You can already hear the squeals of delight as tiny hooves prance from door to door, demanding sacrifices of candy and sweets from the households.
A gaggle of fillies and colts swarms past in a blur of frills, capes and mismatched accessories. One particularly rambunctious filly–her bright orange mane only partially contained by a haphazard witch's hat–nearly bowls you over in her headlong rush. "CanDY CANNNNDYYYYYY!" she shrieks joyfully, a dervish of sugared chaos.
Chuckling to yourself, you stride on towards the center of town where the main festivities sprawl. The town square has been utterly transformed into an autumnal fantasyland. Carved pumpkins by the hundreds cast their flickering, toothy leers from every available perch. Garlands of crispy leaves and twisting vines adorn the pavilion where local bakers peddle their wares of candied apples, spice cookies and other saccharine temptations.
And there, presiding over the entire celebration with stoic majesty, looms a masterfully crafted effigy of Nightmare Moon herself. The scorned alicorn glowers from on high, chiseled features ominously cast in shadow. A shiver of delicious unease trickles down your spine just staring up at her terrible, fanged visage rendered in such vivid detail.
Still, despite the air of gleeful spookiness, you find yourself appreciating this festival's emphasis on innocuous, family-friendly frights. Back in your younger days, Nightmare Night often proved a time of... well, actual terror, thanks to the efforts of more malicious spirits. You shudder, banishing those unpleasant memories in favor of simply enjoying this quaint town's festivities for the evening.
A hush gradually ripples across the ebullient crowd, their raucous cheers and chatter subsiding into expectant murmurs. Something's happening...
"IT'S NIGHTMARE MOON! RUNNNN!" you hear a shrill squeal reverberating across multiple buildings in the small town of Ponyville, and then you see the source; a pink earth pony mare, clad head-to-toe in feathers of her chicken costume, galloping with a bunch of young fillies and colts as fast as their little legs can carry them.
As you stand amongst the gathered crowds in the town square for Nightmare Night, the sky begins to darken and howling winds cause the decorations to thrash wildly. In the sky, you spot what looks to be a chariot pulled by batponies flying at a breakneck speed, before slowing to a hover just above the town square. A hooded pony leaps down from the chariot, throwing her head up to toss the hood behind it, revealing the visage of Princess Luna at last, her midnight coat and sparkling mane glistening under the moonlight as her coat flutters away as glamored, magical bats. Her eyes gleam as she addresses the cowering crowd in her booming voice. "CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE!"
Ah, that Royal Canterlot Voice, it never lets her down... except, probably now, that is. "WE HAVE GRACED YOUR TINY VILLAGE WITH OUR PRESENCE SO THAT YOU MIGHT BEHOLD THE REAL PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT!" she bellows; you idly wonder how she's managed to not shatter any windows so far.
"A CREATURE OF NIGHTMARES NO LONGER, BUT INSTEAD A PONY WHO DESIRES YOUR LOVE AND ADMIRATION!" she continues, eyes closed; she doesn't seem to notice that many of the ponies are attempting to scoot back and away from her. "TOGETHER WE SHALL CHANGE THIS DREADFUL CELEBRATION INTO A BRIGHT AND GLORIOUS FEAST!"
"Did you hear that, everypony? Nightmare Moon says she's gonna FEAST ON US ALL!"
The ponies around you cower and scream, hiding behind barrels and stampeding in panic. Joy collapsing into bewilderment, Luna can only watch as her subjects flee in terror from their princess. "HALT, PONIES OF PONYVILLE! WE MEAN THEE NO HARM THIS NIGHT!" Her plea reverberates through the emptying square.
Ah, sweet, sweet irony. At least the mask and long cloak you're wearing for Nightmare Night seems to be working? No one's really questioned the sudden appearance of a towering creature with hands instead of hooves that just blew in from the west, but you figure they probably think you're just a unicorn with a very elaborate costume setup.
"Now now, my little ponies, it is no time for fright!" you attempt to corral some of the townsfolk and bring them back out of their hiding spots. "For Princess Luna has graced us with her presence on this Nightmare Night!"
You turn back towards the princess and dip a low bow. "An honor it is, to see royalty here," you continue. "We... assume thou bring nothing to fear?" Shit, you're falling back into your own 'royal we' from centuries ago; dial back the archaisms and rhymes, Anon!
She studies you with a curious look, head tilting slightly at your words. "We sense no malice from thee, strange creature." Luna's gaze narrows, taking in the details of your elaborate 'costume.' "Though we must confess, thy guise is... most perplexing."
Her wings give a slight ruffle, ethereal mane shimmering faintly. You can't help but admire how majestic she appears, even when so clearly bewildered by your presence. Those ancient eyes search yours with a hint of recognition, as if she senses something… deeper. "We humbly request that thou make plain thy nature to us." Luna arches one regal brow. "State thy business in our fair borough this eve."
Around you, the fleeing ponies have started to peek out tentatively from their hiding spots, drawn by curiosity at your exchange with their princess. Clearly they wonder what sort of creature could be so unfazed by Luna's imposing Royal Canterlot voice and presence.
You feel dozens of eyes fixing upon you, waiting with bated breath for your response. Time to tread carefully, lest you reveal too much about your true identity and origins. "Merely a traveler, nothing more," you smile behind your mask, gesturing to yourself with a hand. "Passing through this fair town to set up shop in Canterlot, that's what I'm here for," you chuckle lightly, though internally you're slapping yourself across the face; stop rhyming you fuck!
As you utter those words, Luna's eyes narrow, a slight frown creasing her features. The little ponies peering out watch with bated breath, wondering how their princess will respond to this strange 'traveler'.
"Prithee, speak plain," Luna says sternly, giving your disguise an appraising look. "We perceive thou art no mere peddler or vagabond."
Damn, she's sharper than you recalled. Then again, you muse, glancing sidelong at the curious onlookers, this is Luna you're dealing with–the Princess of the Night itself, blessed with insight to see through deceptions and illusions like a dagger through silk.
Her tail swishes behind her, wings giving an impatient flutter as she waits for you to elaborate. Every inch the imperious monarch expecting full candor from her subjects. "We bid thee unmask thyself before us," Luna commands, leaning down to stare you square in the eye through the slits of your disguise. "Let us look upon thy true visage, stranger."
A bead of sweat trickles down your neck as her gaze bores into you. The townsponies watch with rapt attention, some whispering frantic speculations to each other about just what manner of beast lurks behind the mask. To reveal yourself now, a human amid ponies? Your old betrothed would surely recognize you... but can you truly defy a royal decree?
You swallow hard, hooves–er, boots–rooting to the cobblestones as Luna's penetrating stare demands you make a difficult choice.
"Aha... right... but is that not the point of Nightmare Night?" you rub the back of your head nervously, hesitantly taking a step backwards. "To don costumes and masks and... enjoy treats of delight?" STOP IT, ANON, STOP RHYMING.
Luna's piercing gaze holds you frozen in place like a fawn cornered by a timberwolf. She sees right through your feeble attempt to deflect with that silly rhyme. "We perceive thou dost deflect with japes and jests," the Princess huffs, taking another step closer, wings spreading slightly in an unconscious display of intimidation. "Surrender now thy guise, knave, or suffer our royal displeasure."
A tremor runs down your spine at the subtle threat in her tone. Clearly the millennia have done little to diminish Luna's imperious streak. Those ancient eyes narrow dangerously, hooves pawing at the ground as she waits for compliance.
All around, the wary ponies watch with bated breath, no doubt wondering if their Princess will have to bring the full force of her power down upon this strange, uncooperative creature masquerading as some gaudy performer or vagabond. You can see their tails twitching anxiously, bodies tense and ready to flee at the first sign of violence.
Your mind races, trying to formulate a strategy to defuse the increasingly volatile situation without revealing too much about yourself. One wrong move and Luna may very well tear off your mask by force to unveil the truth.
Heart pounding in your ears, you take a steadying breath and force yourself to meet Luna's imperious glare head-on. "Your Highness," you begin, struggling to keep your voice level and placating. "I assure you, there is no deception at play here. 'Tis merely an... eccentric guise, in keeping with the spirit of this evening's revels." Good job not rhyming, Anon; that was definitely not helping the 'deception' angle.
It's a definite gamble, though; there's not much you could do against one of the diarchs of Equestria. You spread your arms in a disarming gesture, taking care not to make any sudden movements that could be misconstrued as aggression.
"Surely, one as enlightened as yourself can appreciate a harmless folly on this night of celebration and mirth?" you venture, praying the flattery might soothe her royal hackles. "I meant no offense, merely to... revel in the magic and mystery of the eve. If it pleases you, I shall gladly remove this 'guise' once festivities have concluded."
Luna narrows her eyes at your feeble attempt to placate her curiosity. The midnight blue alicorn steps even closer, wings unfurling to their full intimidating span behind her. "We detect a faltering in thy tongue, creature," she intones, looking down her muzzle at you with that haughty demeanor so characteristic of nobility. "Art thou certain thou wishest to test our patience further?"
Uh oh. You swallow hard, feeling dozens of wide-eyed stares from the gathered ponies burning into you. There's no easy way out of this jam. If you continue to deflect, Luna may very well resort to more... forceful measures to unmask you.
Those ancient eyes bore into yours, a slight sneer curling her lips as the Princess's famed impatience starts to show. With a quiet sigh of resignation, you reach up your hands (causing a few gasps from the tittering crowd) and grasp the edges of your disguise.
"Very well then, Your Majesty." With that, you tug the mask and cowl free, letting your hood fall back and mask drape down your neck.
A stunned hush falls over the town square. Slack-jawed gapes and gawking galore as the ponies behold your very human visage for the first time. Some faint, others shriek in terror, still more recoil as if struck.
Luna herself takes an involuntary step back, those wings flaring wide in shock and alarm as she beholds... you.
Soft moonlight filters through the bedroom window, bathing you and your lover in a silvery glow as you lay tangled amid rumpled sheets. Luna's ethereal mane ebbs and flows lazily, spilling across the pillow like a starry river. Her cheeks are flushed, chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.
"Thou hast a rather... voracious appetite this eve, my dearest Anon," she murmurs throatily, giving you a sidelong glance through half-lidded eyes.
A roguish grin tugs at the corner of your mouth. "What can We say? Thou bringest out the beast in Us, my Stardust."
Luna snorts indelicately at that, one slender wing unfurling to drape itself possessively across your torso. "A beast, art thou? Mayhap we ought put that to the test on the next full moon."
She nuzzles her muzzle against the crook of your neck, drawing a shiver as you feel the warmth of her breath ghosting across your skin. Those feathery wingtips trail lower, teasing along the contours of your abdomen in a way that has your pulse quickening once more.
"Unless of course..." Luna purrs, leaning in until her lips are a mere hair's breadth from yours. You can taste the sweet pollen on her breath, smell the intoxicating scent enveloping your senses. "Thou findest thyself too spent from our amorous exertions to sate this insatiable mare's desires?"
A delicate hoof traces patterns along your inner thigh as she awaits your response, leaving you struggling not to squirm beneath her touch. The hungry gleam in Luna's turquoise eyes promises wonders untold.
"Thou art incorrigible, even by Our standards," you playfully swat her hoof with a hand, before pulling her in close, pressing a small kiss to the crook of her neck. "Seven days... seven days until we are wed at last. No more need for secret trysts, nor coy deflections in court of our affections, simply..." You let out a small sigh, draping your arms around her withers. "Us. The royal Princess of the Night, and her ever-esteemed Royal Consort."
A gentle wing drapes itself across your chest as Luna studies your features, pupils dilating ever so slightly. There's an almost predatory glint in those turquoise depths, one you've come to know signals the awakening of her baser desires. Her royal composure cracks, if only for a fleeting instant, offering a glimpse of primal hunger lurking beneath.
"Incorrigible, are We?" the Princess murmurs, tilting her head as she considers your playful rebuke. "Perhaps 'tis thou who doth inflame our passions beyond tempering, beloved."
Her sultry tone sends a delicious shiver racing down your spine. Luna leans in close once more, the tip of her pert nose brushing yours in an equine's approximation of a kiss. You can't resist reaching up to run fingers through the shimmering strands of her ethereal mane. Like silken stardust, it slips through your grasp, utterly weightless yet possessing a strange, cosmic gravity that draws you inexorably nearer.
"Seven days feels a veritable eternity away, Our heart's flame," Luna sighs wistfully against your lips. "Though We shall endeavor to abide the tiresome pomp and ceremony, if only to hasten the eve of our blessed union."
As she speaks, her words take on an oddly formal cadence, as if reciting some grand proclamation. The back of her hoof strokes lazily along your side in a meandering path, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. Despite her prim royal diction, the Princess's touch remains smolderingly intimate, belying the baser intentions simmering beneath that cultured facade.
"Whereupon, Sir Anon," Luna continues, her smoky voice lowering to a sultry purr. "We shall waltz the night celestial, thou and Us, bared both in flesh and spirit alike..."
She punctuates that vow by leaning in to claim your lips with hers in a fervent, open-mouthed kiss. The velvety warmth of her tongue brushes brazenly against yours in a tantalizing promise of carnal delights to come. Rainbows of stardust swirl and eddy through Luna's ethereal mane as her ardor rises. When at last she breaks the kiss, her chest rises and falls with quickened breaths. A certain vivid hunger burns behind those hooded eyes. "Seven days and seven nights of rapturous bliss to revel in, untroubled by aught but our own quenchless desires."
Your lips curl into a knowing smirk as Luna's smoky words hang thick in the air between you. Of course she couldn't resist adding that extra flourish, that little extra drizzle of royal piquancy to her seductive overtures. It's one of the things you find so utterly endearing about your lunar paramour–that effortless blend of feral desire and cultured nobility she exudes.
"Mmmm, how delightfully decadent those words sound upon thy lips, my Stardust," you purr, idly stroking the silken fur along her jawline. "Though We do wonder if the reality shan't far outstrip the sweetest of thy heated vows, once thou art well and truly ours before the eyes of the realm." You let that salacious suggestion linger with a wolfish grin. Luna's pupils blow wide, dark pools swallowing those turquoise irises as her nostrils flare. The tip of her tail swishes from side to side in a clear tell of simmering anticipation.
With exaggerated nonchalance, you affect a prolonged stretch, toned muscles rippling beneath your skin as you extend your limbs in a slow, languid motion. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the Princess tracking the movement with naked hunger writ plain across her features.
"Why, We daresay our soon-to-be nuptial bliss could very well birth new stars into the firmament," you continue in a tone of wry musing. "Or perhaps craft new rivers and seas with the sheer... abundance of our joined devotions." A rich chuckle rumbles up from your chest at Luna's visible shudder. You can practically see the gears turning behind those half-lidded eyes, imagining all the delirious, sweat-slicked delights your words promise.
"So yes, sweet moonbeam," you conclude, rolling onto your side to better regard her with an expression of pure, unabashed lust. "Seven days and seven nights sounds a delightful way to commence our marital rapture."
You pause, taking a moment to slowly rake your gaze up and down Luna's lithe, equine form. "Though in truth," you add in a low, heated rasp. "We highly doubt even a solid fortnight would prove sufficient to sate this beast thou hast so thoroughly roused within Us..."
You can practically see the firelight dancing in Luna's widening eyes as she takes in the full import of your sultry insinuation. The Princess shifts her weight upon the downy mattress, a tremor rippling through her withers as she visibly struggles to maintain her regal composure. Yet that lascivious glint in her turquoise gaze betrays the rising tide of primal want roiling just beneath the surface.
"Ah, so the beast doth bare its fangs..." Luna husks, pausing to wet her lips with a dainty swipe of her tongue. You track the motion, utterly transfixed. "Pray tell, sirrah, how dost thou intend to slake this thirst thou hast so artfully whetted?"
With that provocative challenge laid bare, the Princess arches her lithe frame in an unconscious display of equine allure. Those feathery wings extend in a slow, languid sweep, ethereal mane tumbling in a starry cascade to pool about her hindquarters. For a breathless instant, Luna holds the pose–poised, regal, yet utterly dripping with sensual promise.
You swallow hard against the sudden aridity in your throat. Celestia's sun-blazed radiance couldn't hold a taper to the smoldering heat now radiating from your lunar lover. Not trusting your voice, you slowly lean in, tangling your fingers through those silken sky-strands...
"It's... good to see thee again, O Stardust mine," you pause, leveling your gaze with her. You look... perhaps four or five? Years older than you did the night you left. Aside from the increased height and calm demeanor, you're the spitting image of yourself from a thousand years prior.
Princess Luna feels her heart stutter in her chest. Those ancient, fathomless eyes go wider than fullmoons themselves upon beholding features she knows all too intimately. Features indelibly etched into her psyche across a millennia's worth of endless nights.
It cannot be...
"Anon..." The name ghosts from her lips as little more than a tremulous exhalation, barely audible over the murmuring hubbub of bewildered onlookers. "Is that truly thee, mine own heart's flame?"
For the span of several suspended heartbeats, the Princess simply stares, rendered utterly insensate by the impossible sight before her. Anon–HER Anon–stands revealed at long last, as if the bygone centuries had been a mere wink of slumber. That tousled hair trimmed ever so neatly in that roguish, disheveled style she'd always loved to run her hooves through. Those intense eyes, burning with an inner fire brighter than a thousand stars. And that lantern-jawed visage; the very countenance that had graced her most blissful dreams and darkest nightmares alike these thousand years past.
Without conscious thought, Luna finds herself drifting closer, one trembling wing outstretched as if to cradle your cheek. A kaleidoscope of fractured memories come flooding back in a torrential tide.
Your tender smile that fateful night you met in the palace gardens. The reverent brush of your lips against hers as you shared your first, faltering kiss. Your first passionate tryst by the light of the setting moon, hooves and hands entwined, whispers and sighs echoing off the hills. Your eventual union before all the realm, love sealed before the stars themselves.
And of course, that shattering betrayal on the night that should have been your most joyous of evenings.
Luna rears back, shaking her head as though to rouse herself from that maelstrom of reminiscence. All at once, those fragmented shards of remembrance coalesce into a singular, razor-tipped emotion, slicing through her being with all the force of a broadsword.
Fury. Incandescent rage whips through her veins like liquid starfire.
"'Twas thee..." the Princess snarls, fanged muzzle contorting into a feral rictus as the full gravity of those nights without end come crashing down upon her. "'Twas thy heedless forsaking that cracked Our heart into splinters and set Us on this path of ruin!"
Her mane blazes and writhes like a serpentine corona; pinpricks of light sputtering into existence amidst those ethereal strands. A concussive boom akin to thunder reverberates through the square, scattering debris as the first tendrils of Nightmare magic begin to seep into Luna's aura like black ichor.
"The pain of Our abandonment... the bitter agony of unworthiness that consumed Our heart in those benighted years!!" she screeches, arcane power gathering in billowing swathes around her withers. "And all the while, thou breathed freely whilst We languished in solitary torment?!"
The townsfolk scatter and flee in earnest at this point, panicked whinnies filling the air around the seething Princess. But Luna is blind to it all, her senses narrowed entirely upon this singular point of unimaginable anguish and betrayal made flesh before her.
"Give Us one good reason," she hisses in a tone dripping with menace, plumes of darkness now roiling from her mane and tail, "why We shouldst not unmake thee here and now, thou wretched wraith!"
You watch as Princess Luna's eyes blaze with fury, her mane and tail whipping about like living serpents of night itself. Thunder booms, and the air grows thick with suffocating darkness gathered around her regal form.
This is... not quite how you envisioned your reunion going.
Luna's voice drips with venom as she snarls those incendiary words, demanding justification for your millennial vanishing act. Her feathered wings flare wide, ethereal radiance now swallowed by roiling swathes of Nightmare energies. This is the raw, untamed power of an immortal goddess made incarnate. You can practically taste the ozone crackling through the air.
'One good reason', she challenges. Her eyes narrow to slits, promising untold agonies should you fail to convince Nightmare Moon's re-emergence is unwarranted. The ponies around you cower and flee in abject terror.
Your heart pounds like a drum in your breast as you struggle to formulate a response. What CAN you say to soothe the fury of a spurned alicorn so wronged by your selfish pursuit of immortality all those centuries ago? One false syllable, and it's quite likely Luna will tear you asunder down to your composite atoms with her boundless cosmic might.
You lick your dry lips, fighting to maintain a steady tone as those smoldering turquoise eyes bore into your very soul. "I... My st-" No, a long-winded appeal will only further rile her up. You swallow hard and opt for brutal candor instead. "I wronged thee most grievously, this truth cannot be denied. I forsook the realms of ponykind in blind pursuit of that which I held most dear–the dream of eternity by thy side."
A tremor runs through Luna's form, but you forge onward, pressing a hand to your chest. "Yet I speak naught but sincerest truth when I say every waking moment across that endless desert of years was a torment in itself. To be denied thy radiant light and warmth, my guiding star across that infinite–" you pause, holding up a hand to stay the tirade you sense building behind Luna's tightly clenched jaw.
"I KNOW my selfish exodus set in motion a cataclysmic circle of grief and suffering set to echo throughout the epochs." Your voice drops to a hoarse whisper as you hold her turbulent gaze. "If unmaking me is the only path to atonement thou deemst worthy, then let it be so... but I beg of thee, seared into thine immortal psyche as my countenance clearly remains: know that not a single tick of my hourglass has passed these thousand years removed from my enduring love for thee, sweet moonbeam. Make of that meager remembrance what thou wilt."
You steel yourself for the oncoming onslaught. Whether dematerialization by entropic force, immolation via lunar hellfire, or some wilder, more severe eldritch torment... you'll accept it with grace. After all, it would only be the infinitesimal penance owed to the one you so profoundly betrayed.
The air itself seems to tremble under the sheer force of Nightmare Moon's fury. Tendrils of eldritch night snake through her whipping mane and tail as she glowers at you, turquoise eyes blazing hotter than the corona of a sun. This is no mere physical manifestation of rage–you can feel the weight of eons of heartbreak and bitterness suddenly crashing down upon you like a tidal wave.
Princess Luna–sweet, gentle Luna, the very spirit of the night itself–regards you with a look of such searing anguish and hatred that you find yourself reflexively recoiling despite your resolve. A snarl curls those delicate lips, exposing a hint of gleaming fangs amidst her draconic snarl.
"Thou hast wounded Us deeper than any blade could rend, foul wretch," she spits, each word dripping venom. "Thy honeyed tongue may as well be serpent's venom for the agony it hath wrought upon Our soul!"
A stray arc of black lightning sizzles through the thunderhead storm of Nightmare energies billowing around her imposing form. Those wings–a cosmic tapestry woven of stardust and moonlight–flare out in an unconscious display of barely-leashed power. You watch, gut clenched, as Luna fights for mastery over the dark forces swirling malevolently through her essence.
For an endless, harrowing moment, the Princess simply trembles there in silence, nostrils flared, chest heaving with ragged breaths as her inner duality wages ethereal war. Her eyes squeeze shut, the very air around her seeming to bend and warp under the strain. Then at last, that dreaded darkness retreats–though not entirely. When next Luna's gaze falls upon you, there's still a lingering tinge of Nightmare simmering in those azure depths.
"We ought flay the flesh from thy wretched bones for the torment thou hast subjected Our heart to across this benighted millennium," she hisses in a voice gone hoarse with raw feeling. "Every waking moment an unending hell of abandonment, betrayal and self-recrimination without surcease! Thou hast DESTROYED Us, Anon! Shredded Our very soul asunder with thy fleeing!"
You stand there, unflinching, as Luna's scornful tirade pummels you with the force of a cosmic storm. Each lash of her tongue is a razor-sharp recrimination flensing deeper and deeper into the raw wound of your shame. By all rights, you should cower, beg her forgiveness on bended knee for the grievous sins committed.
Yet something unyielding within you refuses to simply roll over and accept her wrath uncontested. You are Anon, once the beloved of this peerless mare and consort true of the Night Court itself. Though you fled like a craven wretch all those centuries ago, it was in pursuit of a solution–the ability to stand as her equal unbounded by mortality's cruel constraints. A dream unforgivably poorly realized, but born of naught but the purest desire to spend eternity at her side.
When at last Luna's raging torrent of rancor ebbs, you meet that Nightmare-tinged glare with an inscrutable look of your own. "I hear thee, Princess. Loud and clear as the night itself doth thy condemning words strike this penitent heart." You suck in a sharp breath, straightening to your full towering height in an unconscious display of human pride.
"I'll not rebut nor downplay the severity of my grievous error. On that fateful eve, I did in truth deliver the unkindest cut a lover could inflict upon their heart's true mate." Your jaw sets stubbornly, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at your sides. "Yet I bid thee hold that righteous, withering contempt for but a moment and hear me out. If still you deem me deserving of thine utmost wrath upon hearing my tale, then so be it. I shall weather the judgment without complaint, whatever form it taketh."
You hold her baleful stare for a pregnant few seconds, awaiting some signal to continue. Whether it's a curt nod or simply the absence of her unleashing terrible vengeance upon you in that instant, you'll take what you can get. For if there exists yet one flickering spark of the profound love you once shared, surely it's worth pursuing till the bitter end?
Luna's blazing glare holds you rooted in place like a field mouse pinned beneath the imperious stare of a hungry falcon. That azure inferno blazes undimmed, the lingering taint of Nightmare energies swirling in those turquoise depths like a vortex of cosmic rancor.
Yet for that briefest of instants, the Princess's features flicker–a minuscule crease furrows her brow, those winged nostrils flaring. Outwardly it's scarcely a reaction at all. Yet some instinct within you (perhaps the byproduct of centuries spent studying Luna's every nuance) detects the briefest waver in that otherwise impenetrable facade.
"Speak then, thou louse. Unbridle thy forked tongue and spew forth thine rationalizations and weavings of hollow justification." Despite the acidic words, Luna's tone lacks some of the visceral venom from before. "But heed well my warning: naught but the whole unvarnished truth shall even begin to sway Us from meting out thy deserved punishment."
The Princess settles back upon her haunches, wings furling ever so slightly into a posture more poised than outright aggressive. Her tail lashes once in agitation, that eternal mane writhing in cosmic slow-motion. Yet for all her outward bluster, she seems to begrudgingly accept your request for an audience, if only for a moment.
All around, you become vaguely aware of the townsfolk cautiously peeking out from behind wagons and market stalls. More than a few fillies and colts can be spied trembling in their frilly Nightmare Night costumes, no doubt disappointed by the interruption of their favorite holiday festivities. One particularly brazen young filly with a scattering of freckles even pokes her muzzle out to gape at you with unabashed curiosity before an older mare quickly yanks her back into hiding.
It would appear Her Royal Majesty's wrath has drawn quite the audience. All eyes–equine and otherwise–are presently riveted upon you, awaiting your words with rapt expectation.
Your throat constricts as you swallow hard. How to even begin explaining the agonizing yet noble motivations that launched you upon your ill-fated exodus a millennium ago? One misspoken phrase, the slightest misstep, and you'd likely find yourself swiftly and painfully unmade for your seeming effrontery.
Yet as you meet Luna's smoldering stare, that familiar connection rekindles deep within your soul. Her eyes alone hold whole galaxies' worth of emotion and memory. Love, heartache, longing and fury swirl together in those hungering cosmic pools.
For an infinite beat, you're transported back to that pivotal, fateful eve...
The flickering torchlight casts an amber glow over the cramped study, elongating the shadows that lurch across the towering stacks of esoteric tomes surrounding you. Pushing away a teetering pile of salt-stained scrolls with a weary sigh, you rub at your strained eyes and glance forlornly at the hourglass on the corner of the desk.
Most of the grains have already slipped away into the bottom chamber. Once more, night has fallen over the royal library while you fruitlessly toiled away, seeking... what, exactly? Some mythic key to cheat mortality itself?
A humorless chuckle escapes your lips as you contemplate your increasingly obsessive pursuits. Ever since stumbling across that dusty old text detailing the zebra alchemists of the faraway Farasi Kingdom, your restless thoughts have spiraled down a maddening path.
Immortality origins, plausibility, varied methodologies–you've perused them all in the scant few weeks since hatching this perhaps-foolhardy notion. Finding a way to shed your mortal coil and spend eternity by Luna's side has become your singular obsession.
And why? She's already a blessed Alicorn, granted perpetual life and cosmic power by the very whims of fate itself. Surely your union should be cause for unmitigated celebration? Yet you can't seem to shake this... nagging insecurity.
How long until your sweet Luna grows weary of her increasingly decrepit partner? The notion alone fills you with cold dread. You care not for wealth, power or prestige–only for her glorious radiance to forever illuminate your soul as it has all these passing years. And what cruel fate awaits should you be parted by death's icy talons?
Nay, you cannot abide such a cruel injustice. If these 'Farasi' truly hold the alchemical keys to everlasting life, you absolutely must seek them out. No risk is too great if it culminates in the capacity to stand as Luna's immortal equal, after all.
She'd certainly understand, though so close to your wedding... five days away. Once you would be wed, you'd have no chance of seeking them out; your duties would be to the royal court and to your beloved. And certainly if you were to tell her, she'd try to dissuade you from this path.
You wrack your brain, pouring over the archaic glyphs, losing yourself once more in study. For Luna, you would spare no effort–endure any hardship and sacrifice any comfort, if need be.
After all, what good is a lifetime of love if it cannot span the endless tides of eternity?
The torchlight casts dancing shadows across the dusty old tomes surrounding you in the library's study nook. With a furrowed brow, you lean in closer, squinting at the faded zebra hieroglyphs on the yellowed pages before you. What secrets might they hold about achieving your heart's fervent desire?
Your eyes narrow as a familiar glyph catches your attention amidst the esoteric scribblings. That rune unmistakably represents 'longevity' or 'eternity' from what you can recollect of your studies. Stifling an eager gasp, you pore over the accompanying inscriptions with rapt intensity.
"Mmm, most intriguing..." The words tumble out in a hushed murmur as you stroke your chin thoughtfully with one hand. "The text speaks of a mystic draught, distilled from the nectar of a rare desert bloom. Said to 'grant the imbiber reprieve from death's icy clutches' according to the translations."
A slight furrow creases your brow as you reach the bottom of the page. "'Course, it also notes the nectar must be harvested under the light of a solar eclipse to properly catalyze the infusion. And from the look of these star-charts and celestial calendars..."
Your voice trails off into a contemplative silence as you flick through several richly illustrated pages covered in bizarre zodiac symbols and cosmic diagrams. At last you let out a soft 'ah-hah!' and tap one star-marked chart with emphasis.
"It seems the next such eclipse won't grace this realm for another... seven-thousand days." You blow out a weary sigh, scrubbing one hand over your face. "Just my luck–embarking on a potential decades-long quest a scant few days before my own bloody nuptials!"
You gaze at the star charts with dismay. Seven thousand days until the next eclipse–nearly two full decades. Far too long to reasonably postpone your impending nuptials without raising Luna's suspicions.
A wry chuckle escapes your lips. Of course the path to immortality would prove nigh insurmountable, requiring a quest akin to somepony's gran'pony tale. You shake your head ruefully, absentmindedly stroking the cover of the weathered tome. What to do, what to do?
Then, like a bolt of inspiration striking your caffeine-addled brain, the answer crystallizes. You don't NEED Luna's blessing, nor can you postpone the wedding itself without arousing her curiosity. No, you'll simply take your leave immediately under some pretense.
"An extended diplomatic tour of the outlying fiefdoms, perhaps?" you muse aloud. "Or maybe finally pursue mastering dream-walking like we'd discussed? Yes, yes... that could well provide cover for my absence without drawing undue suspicion."
Emboldened by this solution, you quickly rise from your seat. A few hurried strides carry you across the study to the arched windows overlooking the courtyard. There, gilded in the silvery caress of Luna's night, the magnificent Castle of the Two Sisters looms–a breathtaking monument to the Diarchy's power and glory.
You feel a slight pang in your chest as your eyes trace the distinctive spires and towers. This mighty edifice is far more than simple stone and mortar. It stands as the living heart of Equestria itself–the epicenter of your beloved Luna's benevolent domain. Soon it shall officially become your home and dominion as well.
The longing to remain by your lover's side wars with your intense yearning to gift her with the ultimate token of undying fealty. You would brave any hardship, defy any cosmic obstacle, all to ensure an eternity of rapture in her radiant light.
"For you, my Stardust," you murmur, gaze lifting to that lustrous full moon burning amidst the diamond-dusted tapestry overhead. "I shall cross realities themselves if that's the price to pay."
With a sigh of finality, you turn and stride from the library, already plotting the weavings of your deception. Most ponies would balk at the very notion of deceiving their betrothed. But they do not possess your advantage of perspective–sometimes a little white lie can bear universes' worth of joy in the everlasting future.
"And so I left," you explain, "Not out of wishing to spurn our love, but to gift you that which you were most deserving of: a love that is truly, truly eternal. Not mere platitudes of 'love everlasting' but a true, tangible thing!" You fix your gaze with her. "For what is a millennium in the life of one who is immortal? You are here, now, standing before me, just like I am you."
Princess Luna regards you with an inscrutable expression as you finish your impassioned explanation. For several moments, an almost palpable tension hangs in the air between you, thick as a morning fog.
You can't help but drink in every detail of her visage, cataloging each familiar curve and angle etched by time's indelible touch. Those regal features you know as intimately as the cosmic map of her starry mane. The slight quirk at the corner of her mouth as she processes your words. Those ethereal eyes blinking slowly, pinpricks of teal flame flickering within their very depths.
"So..." Luna's melodic voice breaks the fraught silence at last, regal head tilting inquisitively. "'Twas in pursuit of immortality itself that you forsook Us those many centuries past? To stand eternal vigil at Our side as Our... consort everlasting?"
A muscle twitches almost imperceptibly along the feminine line of her jaw. Despite the apparent evenness of her tone, you sense a simmering turmoil roiling just beneath that carefully cultivated exterior. Something dark and turbulent, like the eddying currents preceding a maelstrom.
"And thou didst succeed in this brazen quest?" The Princess leans in a bit closer to scrutinize you from beneath a slightly furrowed brow. "Forsooth... We admit to being somewhat dubious. Thy mortal visage appears scarcely altered since our last... tumultuous parting."
She pauses, one feathery wing giving the barest of agitated flutters as her piercing stare grows almost accusing.
"Yet speak truly, knave–hast thou in truth unlocked the secret to infinite longevity? Or doth some fouler deception tak'st root here?"
You swallow hard, painfully aware of the dozens of nervous ponies peeking out from their hiding spots to gape in wide-eyed wonder at this unfolding spectacle. No matter how you respond, it would seem all of Ponyville is bearing witness to this pivotal reunion.
"Yes, I've succeeded," you nod. "Though it is not a permanent measure of immortality, I've secured a method; one that does not require dark pacts or eldritch arcanas. That far-flung land of Farasi... within the halls of its royal palace, I found the answers I sought."
You unclasp the buckle from your satchel, reaching in to grasp one of the vials you've brought with you. You'd hoped that you would be able to share this in the privacy of the royal court, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Holding it in your hand for Princess Luna and the ponies immediately around you to see, you grasp upon a glass vial of a shimmering amber liquid. "Sun orchid elixir," you declare. "Capable of returning to and maintaining one's youthful form for a full twenty years."
Princess Luna's winged brows knit together as her smoldering gaze fixes upon the vial clutched in your hand. You can practically see the gears turning behind those ancient turquoise eyes. While she regards the glass phial with obvious skepticism, it's clear the alicorn is at least momentarily willing to indulge your outlandish claims.
"Sun orchid elixir..." she echoes in a measured tone, the words rolling off her tongue with that distinct Canterlot lilt. "How didst thou happen upon such an obscure draught all the way in that far-flung zebra kingdom?"
Luna inches a bit closer, muzzle twitching faintly as she examines the amber liquid sloshing gently within its crystal confines. For a fleeting instant, her regal mask slips–you glimpse a hint of childlike curiosity flash across her elegant features before that imperious poise reasserts itself.
"Regale us with thy tale, Anon," the Princess murmurs. Though her tone remains clipped and cautious, you detect the slightest undercurrent of... wistfulness? Resignation? It's difficult to parse, truly. "Spare no detail in recounting thy self-imposed exile from Our realm. For We must admit..." She hesitates, then continues in a slightly softer cadence. "A full millennium's breadth hath weighed heavily indeed."
With a silent flutter of those cosmic wings, Luna lowers herself onto her haunches. Her tail swishes idly, almost expectant, as she regards you with an inscrutable look. All around, the gathered ponies seem to hold their collective breath, ears perked towards you in rapt attention.
It would seem Her Majesty's Lunar Court is now in session, with you poised to give testimony. One false syllable, one misstep in phrasing, and she may very well find you in contempt. Yet... you also sense a flicker of optimism–a desperate yearning for an explanation that might cauterize the deep wound your disappearance inflicted upon her heart.
A chance, no matter how faint, to reconcile the grievous schism in her soul that fateful night etched.
The clanging echoes of ceremonial gongs reverberate through the ornately decorated throne chamber. Twin columns of zebra warriors in resplendent obsidian plate stand at stiff attention, flanking the regal pathway leading toward the raised dais where four imposing thrones sit vacant in four perpendicular corners of the circular room.
Your heart pounds in your ears as you stride forth, hands clasped behind your back in a purposeful display of composure. Despite your outward calm, the beads of sweat prickling along the nape of your neck betray your inner trepidation at petitioning the royal family. Two years of preparation... one misplaced step, one breach of etiquette you've studied so intently, could see you jailed or worse.
At last you reach the center of the throne room and execute a low, sweeping bow, movements measured and deliberate. "Royal brothers and esteemed custodians of the royal court," you intone formally. "This unworthy traveler seeks indulgence to petition the wisdom of thy support." You've spent your travels practicing your rhymes; you knew that would go a long way for their trustworthiness if you did so.
For a heartbeat, utter silence reigns within the cavernous throne room. Then, a subtle stir from one of the four empty seats draws your gaze.
"A petitioner humble and bold, his plea We shall unfold." The baritone voice booms from one of the thrones as its previous occupant simply... fades into view. A towering, muscular zebra draped in ornate golden robes, bedecked with glittering jade and turquoise. Prince Azante, master of traditions. Tilting his regal striped head, he regards you with unblinking amber eyes.
"Within our storied realm there be, few as well-versed in courtesy." This time, the speaker materializes upon the throne to your left–a reclining figure swathed in shimmering veils the color of a desert sunset. Prince Marazho, master of deserts. Despite his diaphanous nature, each silken layer seems to contain a faint, shifting pattern reminiscent of tiny hieroglyphs. "Well met, thou well-spoken shade," the zebra rumbles in a smoky alto. "Thy purpose plied, let it now fade."
Another flicker of motion claims your peripheral vision. Another prince, adorned in layers of fine linen and draped with strings of ivory shark teeth, leans forward to appraise you with a lupine grin. "This seeker driven by desperation's tide," he intones with a chuckle. "Quest most fateful doth herein reside." Prince Zhevaka, master of the hunt.
Finally, the last of the four royals shimmers into view in a swirl of midnight plumes. His imposing frame is cloaked in darkest onyx, offset by subtle embroidery in pale moonglow thread. Prince Nohanze, master of night's secrets. "For immortal secrets here be won," the ebon-furred ruler declares solemnly. "Or a life forever undone."
Their rhymes flow in an almost hypnotic rhythm, challenge and promise intermingled in equal measure. Immortal secrets await here, they say. Or perhaps utter ruination for those ill-prepared? Well, you've come too far to balk at such dramatic overtures.
With a deferential dip of your head, you raise your left hand open and accept their ultimatum.
"If immortality be the prize to claim, then steep any cost in its relentless flame," you declare, pitching your voice to carry through the vaulted chamber. "For Our quest is steeped in purpose most true–to gift the greatest love this world doth knew."
You punctuate the statement by dropping to one knee, right hand pressed to your chest in a symbolic vow. For a beat, the only sound is your own hammering heartbeat thrumming in your ears. A series of inscrutable looks pass between the four princes, their judgments unspoken yet tangible in the fraught silence.
At long last, Prince Azante leans forward, muscular frame creaking faintly in the throne. "An earnest soul beset by love's cruel plight," he rumbles in that deep baritone voice. "Stands before us this eventide night." His amber eyes seem to bore straight through you, gleaming with flecks of inscrutable starlight. "Yet to unlock the vaults of endless life, a sterner challenge must outweigh such strife."
A subtle shudder courses through the assemblage at those cryptic words. You can't help but swallow hard, all too aware of the stakes riding on these regal brothers' judgment.
Prince Marazho drapes himself languidly over the armrest of his throne, vaporous veils shimmering hypnotically. "One most tenacious to seek our mystic arts," he drawls in that smoky alto. "Yet still green as the moss on forest hearts." The lithe royal quirks a bemused look at his kin before returning his half-lidded scrutiny to you. "While admirable in ways vast and small, so too is the hubris lurking to ensnare all."
Next, Prince Zhevaka lounges back against his throne of polished bone and embroidered linen. His grin remains fixed and unwavering as he considers you with an almost predatory gleam. "A bold soul drunk on dream's decadence, ye be. Though paved in bliss, the path is thorned sea to sea."
You can't repress a slight shiver–not of fear or intimidation, but at the primal spark burning in the prince's pale orange eyes. As if he could scent the churning tempest of your desires like a lion scenting blood.
All the while, the eldest prince, Nohanze, regards you with an inscrutable and decidedly disquieting silence. Those onyx depths give no quarter, no sliver of emotion or judgment to guide you through these treacherous straits. He is the sea of night itself–glassy, fathomless, and capable of dragging you under into oblivion with nary a ripple.
Prince Azante leans forward, his musculature rippling beneath ornate robes and jade adornments. "Thy quest is noble in its underpinnings, we admit," he rumbles, fixing you with that piercing amber glare. "Yet danger most dire lurks in equal measure, a heavy price indeed you'll be forced to acquit."
You incline your head respectfully, unmoved by such dramatic proclamations. "Then let the toll be levied, good Prince, that We might settle accounts whole. We shall not let this stand in the way of Our goal."
A flicker of what might be amusement ghosts across Marazho's vaporous countenance. With a sinuous motion, he unfurls from his lounging repose to drift closer, shimmering veils trailing in his wake like an aurora's afterglow. "Bold words from a sprightly soul so untested," he murmurs, smoke-shrouded tones carrying an undercurrent of dark promise. "We shall see if that ardor can stand bravely invested."
As the lithe prince settles at the very edge of the dais directly before you, Zhevaka leans in with a sound that almost sounds like a pony’s nickering. "This desert flower prove too thorny for thy tender dispositions?" he challenges with a smirk. "Or shalt thou bend knee and charter expedition?"
You level a steady look between the two, offering a diplomatic shrug. "Just so, good Princes, set forth your terms and see them met with ready resolve. For Our beloved awaits on the other side of this trial, thus I shall not dissolve."
At last, Prince Nohanze stirs within the shadowed recesses of his throne. "Then sworn be thy will to the old rites," he rumbles in a voice like stones grinding together in the dark. "Surrender thy life entire on this night. Only once unmade and remade anew shall the path of forever open unto you."
A chill trickles down your spine at the ebon ruler's foreboding proclamation. Yet some core part of your being remains unshakable even in the face of his dire ultimatum. You came too far and sacrificed too much to be deterred now.
Looking each prince in the eye, you proclaim: "Then let tonight mark the first breath of Our second verse. We shall give all to transcend Our mortal curse."
The zebra rulers exchange inscrutable looks. "So let it be woven," they reply in chilling unison. "The young ward hath spoken." All four stand and stamp their hooves in a rhythmic unison. "If immortality doth be what thou request, for nine-hundred ninety-nine years will thee serve at our behest."
"In Farasian culture, the number nine is oft associated with selflessness and the desire to serve others," you explain, dipping your head respectfully to the Night Princess. "Thus, in exchange for divulging the secrets of the elixir that giveth youthful vigor, I was to serve the royal family for nine-hundred and ninety-nine years. During which time, I would practice alchemy and potion-brewing alongside their royal apothecaries, serving in the palace until such time as my agreement was completed."
Princess Luna's ethereal mane undulates in a cosmic downpour, starry strands flickering and pulsing with each shift of her mood. Her regal features remain inscrutable as you recount the tale of your ill-fated deal with the Farasian princes all those centuries ago.
She blinks slowly, turquoise eyes glimmering with hints of something indiscernible. Resignation? Amusement? Skepticism? Discerning the true root of her thoughts proves difficult. With Luna, you've always sensed layers upon layers of emotion and wisdom lying beneath that cultured facade of regal propriety.
"So..." Her rich alto tones roll forth, profoundly resonant yet velveteen-soft. "Thou didst truly trade the lion's share of a mortal life's duration for this..." One winged brow arches in a delicate curve as the Princess gestures vaguely toward the phial clutched in your hand. "Alchemical panacea, as it were?"
A subtle edge of sardonic incredulity laces those words, dripping from Luna's tongue like sweet poison. You can't deny a slight twinge of indignation at her dismissive tone. What, did she expect you to simply recount the secret to limitless longevity like a trifling court jester's punchline?
"Indeed." You meet her pointed look with one of utmost sincerity. Head held high despite her obvious skepticism. "Nine centuries and ninety-nine years I labored–first in apprenticeship, transcribing the Farasian masters' knowledge of alchemy and potions. Not... unlike a unicorn's tutelage, I suppose."
The faintest ghost of a wistful smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Their brews were... potent, if unsubtle in methodology. Not at all like the ethereal tinctures of Equestrian magic. Luckily, for a non-magical creature such as myself, the zebras' arts relied only upon fertile imagination and tireless study of this world's natural bounties."
You raise the phial, allowing the soft torchlight to render its syrupy amber contents in molten hues. "This particular infusion was derived from the nectar of the golden bloom that gives it its name. A rare desert orchid only grown in the Farasian royal palace, harvested under the light of a solar eclipse."
Unbidden, your gaze flits toward Luna of its own accord. You find her studying you with that same inscrutable intensity–burning curiosity warring with ingrained skepticism. A muscle twitches ever so faintly along her jawline as her tongue moistens full lips in an equine gesture of pensive contemplation.
Squaring your shoulders almost unconsciously, you forge onward. "The harvested nectar was then fermented with the distillate of an artisan grain spirit, catalyzing the orchid's latent rejuvenating properties over a two-year period."
You can't resist a rueful chuckle. "I nearly went mad with impatience during that second year, I'll admit. Unwittingly acting the part of fretful groom pining for a bride that was, in truth, every aspect of immortality itself."
Those words seem to strike a chord within the regal alicorn. You notice her throat constrict in a faint swallow, stormy gaze momentarily fracturing to reveal a glimpse of some deeper emotion simmering beneath the surface. Just as quickly, those teal irises glaze over once more as Luna reasserts her air of haughty aloofness.
You stand before her silent majesty for what feels like a small eternity, the air heavy with tension and the weight of too many bygone years. Princess Luna regards this phial of alleged immortality in your grasp with an inscrutable gaze. Her regal head tilts, ethereal mane swirling like cosmic dreamcatchers cast in deepest navy.
Those cerulean eyes narrow, brimming with swirling eddies of skepticism and... something deeper–a hint of yearning, perhaps? Or even dread? Whatever emotions churn behind that stoic facade, the Princess of the Night does not yet deign to voice them.
Instead, Luna straightens her regal bearing, feathery wings giving an agitated twitch as she glances sidelong at the small gathering of Ponyville citizens gawking nearby. A slight sneer pulls at the corner of her muzzle.
"Thou hast our indulgence for the present moment, knave," the alicorn decrees in a tone that brokered no disagreements. "Yet our patience shall not be tormented indefinitely. Make plain what keenness of enlightenment thou seekest to impart upon us, and swiftly–lest we lose what little remains of our aristocratic restraint."
From the corner of your eye, you spy a pair of young fillies goggling in awestruck stupor, having crept halfway out from their hiding spot behind a nearby apple cart. Even through their frilly Nightmare Night costumes, their eyes remain locked on Luna with an enraptured gaze that seems to drink in her every imposing movement.
Before you can so much as open your mouth, however, the Princess beats you to the proverbial punch. "Hasten thy tale," she commands brusquely, giving a terse flick of her swan-like neck. "For there is but one truth We crave with Our soul entire–the reason thou didst abandon Us to suffer in desolation for a thousand years bereft of thy light."
Ah, and so to the heart of the issue the Princess strikes. Her voice drops to a darker timbre, resonating with that fathomless depth of wisdom and emotion only an immortal could muster. Luna's radiant mane billows, aurorae flickering behind her eyes like foxfire.
"Deliver unto Us this... revelation of purpose behind thy betrayal. And then..." She pauses, throat constricting in an equine swallow. "And then We shall determine what further judgments must needs be rendered."
Beside you, a hushed, almost reverent silence descends over the townsponies. Clearly, they sense this pivotal moment you now find yourself thrust into. A dozen pairs of eyes watch you with rapt attentiveness, waiting alongside their Princess for the explanation that–fairly or not–may ultimately decide your fate here tonight.
Perhaps, in hindsight, you reflect, leading with a dramatic unveiling of your rejuvenating elixir wasn't the subtlest move. The look of utter skepticism–bordering on outright scorn–plastered across Luna's noble features is evidence enough of that tactical misstep.
And yet, how else to impress upon this immortal mare the gravity of your quest? The lengths to which you willingly subjugated yourself in pursuit of a gift worthy of her eternal radiance? Words alone seem cheap by comparison.
Her mane ripples and billows with cosmic energies, turquoise depths burning like twin supernovae. You can all but see the exasperation radiating outwards in waves.
Yet you stand your ground, squaring your shoulders against the coming storm. For a beat, you simply regard this immortal majesty–your heart's one true desire, the guiding star that pulled you across a thousand years. All the justifications, rationales and pretty words seem to shrivel upon your tongue in the face of such brutally candid hurt and anguish.
"As you've surmised already, most regal and insightful majesty," you begin in an even baritone, "my intentions were never to inflict agonies upon you. Quite the contrary..."
Your words trail off as you unconsciously lift the phial of rejuvenating elixir towards the moonlight. The syrupy amber liquid catches those silvery beams and glows like molten citrine.
"I sought only to ensure my insignificant light might join yours in perpetuity. To gift you a love unbroken by mortality's cruel march and the ceaseless turning of time's dread wheel."
You can't resist quirking the faintest of rueful smiles, even as you feel your heart constrict within your breast.
"Was it childishly naïve of me? Yes. But I was young and painfully enamored by you–the immortal personification of the cosmos themselves, cloaked in mere mortal flesh. How could I not thirst for a way to stand eternal vigil by your side?"
"And so I left–not out of scorn or malice, but in the prideful, selfish pursuit of this vision." You shake your head slowly, unable to quell a rueful edge to your tone. "I wished to remain by your side forevermore–not as a mere memory, but as flesh and blood, youthful evermore..."
"Instead, all I ended up doing was subjecting you to a thousand years of torment..."
The confession hangs in the air between you and the Princess of the Night like a guillotine blade. Luna's ethereal mane writhes and swirls with celestial energies, giving her an utterly otherworldly, nigh-godlike air as she regards you from the corner of her eye. Those turquoise depths gleam brighter than any star, ancient and inscrutable.
For a long, pregnant pause, naught but the skittering of ponies shifting on their hooves and the occasional creak of wagon wheels punctuates the fraught silence. Then, with tantalizing slowness, Luna pivots to face you fully. Wings rustling in an unconscious display of poise and power, she draws herself up to her full, statuesque height.
"Let Us ensureth We grasp thy tale accurately, knave..." Her regal tones drip with acid, each syllable etched in icy disdain. "Thou didst abandon your betrothed bride on the eve of our holy union, fleeing into the blackest night like a craven thief absconding with ill-gain'd bounty."
The Princess stalks towards you in a series of disciplined, almost predatory strides. Townsponies squeak and scatter to clear a wide berth. Those terrible wings flare in silent threat, blotting out the very moon itself in their unfurled vastness.
"All to undertake a fool's quest in pursuit of imbibing..." Her regal muzzle curls in a contemptuous sneer as she gestures towards the phial still clutched numbly in your hand. "... Some fanciful, zebra-spun necromancy."
Despite her diminutive stature compared to you, the sheer oppressive aura of Luna's presence makes her seem to loom like an unfurling stormfront. The air itself grows heavier, thicker–redolent with the metallic tang of ozone and smoldering embers.
"And let Us not dissemble, knave," the Princess spits, her baleful gaze locked squarely with yours. "For it was THAT arrogance, that pathetic mortal vanity which loosed Nightmare Moon upon Our benighted realm!"
Shockwaves of pure force ripple outward in concentric rings from Luna's withers. Panicked whinnies and shrieks fill the air as ponies cower and flee for cover. Even the earth itself seems to tremble, quailing beneath the Princess's unleashed fury.
Yet despite the maelstrom of rage scorching the air around you, you find your footing remains inexplicably steady. Resolve settles into your soul like an anchor in a raging tempest as you meet Luna's withering onslaught with unflinching calm. For it is only NOW, with the bitter truth laid bare between you at long last, that the burden of a thousand years begins to lift.
"Your anger is just, Princess," you reply, making sure to keep your tone even and respectful. "I'll not rebut the severity of the burden my selfish exodus inflicted upon you and your subjects. Any pleas for exculpation would only cheapen the suffering you endured."
"I stand before you tonight, bruised and battered by the relentless march of lifetimes, yet nevertheless here, accepting of whatever fate you would have for me." An near imperceptible sigh parts your lips as those ancient eyes–eyes you know more intimately than your own–hold you transfixed like a butterfly pinned to cotton wool.
"My quest met with success, and yet the true victory remains incomplete..." You cannot resist reaching out to her, pleading expression writ plain across your face. "For what good is life, whether mortal or eternal, without thy radiant light to share it with, sweet Moonbeam?"
The air hangs thick with tension, charged particles bristling in the space between yourself and the Princess of the Night. Her ethereal mane writhes and crackles like a living corona, luminous strands shimmering with stray arcs of energy. Those smoldering turquoise irises burn hotter than small suns, reflecting the inferno of righteous fury blazing within Luna's regal soul.
"Do you hear yourself?" she seethes, words etched in acid. "Such petulant, self-serving justifications you offer up in the face of your betrayal!"
Each syllable lashes across your exposed soul like a scorpion's sting. Yet you remain steadfast in the face of Luna's onslaught, though gears grind furiously behind those ancient eyes. The Princess practically vibrates with the force of her mounting indignation, tail thrashing like an enraged dragon's.
"An immortal gift, was it? A 'labor of love' to eternally bind our souls in sacred communion?!" she snarls, wings flaring to their fullest span. The raw, cosmic energies swirling about her frame intensify, forcing any nearby ponies to stagger back from the oppressive aura unleashed.
"Lies..." Dark, oily smoke begins seeping from the corners of Luna's eyes, tears of celestial ichor tracking crimson paths down her cheeks. "Every last honeyed syllable naught but craven lies and pathetic self-aggrandizement!"
The increasingly haggard Princess throws back her regal head and SCREAMS–a hollow, lancing note of purest distilled torment that reverberates to your very marrow. Ponies shriek and cower as the sound tears across the night like a physical force. Windows rattle in their frames. The very earth itself quakes beneath your feet.
And through it all, you remain transfixed, unable to tear your gaze from Luna's terrible visage. She sucks in a ragged breath, starry mane undulating in slow, grieving sweeps.
"Your vows of eternal fidelity ring hollow from between lips that abandoned me one thousand endless nights ago!"
You can only watch as the Night Princess buckles forward in the fervent emotional storm. Her entire lithe frame trembles, racked by unnamed agonies older than mortal time itself.
And then she lifts her head to bestow upon you a look of such naked, wounded betrayal that it cleaves straight to the primal core of your soul. Her next words come hushed, a stark whisper that cuts deeper than any scream or raging cry could hope to achieve.
"Do you even comprehend what you stole from me by your selfish vanishment, Anon?" she pleads, ancient eyes glistening. "The desolation of an eternity spent without the one sole light I craved?"
Tears spill freely down those azure cheeks, viscous starlight streaming unheeded for all of Ponyville to behold. And in that heart-shredding moment, you catch a glimpse of the child beneath the god... your Dream Princess, utterly devastated by your choices.
Turquoise eyes ablaze with the cosmic fire of a thousand dying suns bore directly into you. You feel the smoldering heat of Luna's wounded gaze searing past all physical barriers to penetrate straight to your very essence. Those azure depths reflect a universe of anguish and rage–turbulent nebulae swirling amidst infinite blacknesses too deep to fathom.
The Princess of Night commands all your focus. Your entire world narrows to that single, stricken visage of betrayal made manifest. Her full lips part, venting a rattled sob that sounds as old and weary as entropy itself. Streaks of celestial starlight drip unheeded down those regal, azure cheeks, tracing glistening paths through the sleek fur.
Despite the grandeur of her winged splendor, in this moment, Luna seems so achingly, heart-wrenchingly small. Not a timeless archon of cosmic mystery, but simply an achingly vulnerable soul laid raw from eons of unslakable loneliness and bitter despair. The absolute personification of pure, distilled heartbreak.
It's only now that you fully comprehend the magnitude of what you wrought by your selfish pursuit of immortal life at Luna's side. More than a mere romantic slight or youthful impulsiveness, your flight from her was an act of utter and complete soul-rending.
For so long, you've carried the weight of your perceived "noble" quest like a battle standard, marching forth with zealous conviction. Surely your dedication and sacrifices would sway Luna's heart once the full narrative of your exodus unfolded, right? Yet confronted by the stark, naked reality of her devastation, every honeyed justification withers on your tongue to bitter ash.
You want to reach out, to gather this immortal spirit into your arms and beg her forgiveness a thousand times over. Yet all you can do is remain anchored in place, letting that unravelling tide crash over you again and again. Within those blazing turquoise irises, you behold whole galaxies of sorrow swirl amidst infinite lightless voids. To gaze too deeply invokes a soul-level vertigo, the existential dread of confronting mysteries too vast for mortal minds to ponder overlong.
A tremor wracks your frame as the enormity of your sins settles in your gut like a leaden weight. You collapse to your knees, hands only moving in time to catch yourself from smacking upon the cobblestones. The Princess is right–no boons of longevity or promises of eternal union could ever atone for the metaphysical trauma your actions inflicted upon her very essence. You don't just stand accused of abandoning a lover. No, your sin cuts far deeper–maiming the very Spirit of Night itself in ways mortal psyches could scarcely conceive. With your thoughtless exodus, you inflicted a metaphysical trauma beyond quantifying.
How could you, a mere mayfly flickering in and out of existence, ever hope to encompass the true depths of Luna's devastation during her thousand years of harrowing isolation? Of course no ephemeral boon of longevity or rejuvenating alchemies could ever atone for such a cosmic transgression. The Four Princes were right, all those centuries ago–you'd let your hubris, your greed, cloud everything. All this time... you thought you'd been serving others, but in reality? You only did so as a means to serve yourself. Truly, a craven knave to the very end.
For the first time since embarking on your ill-fated journey, you find the path ahead utterly obfuscated. Every carefully laid stone of your grand design lies in shattered ruins at your feet, pulverized by cosmic forces too infinite to circumvent. Even if granted literal forever by the Zebras' fabled alchemies, how could you ever hope to redress such devastation?
You open your mouth to speak, but the words simply won't come. What's left to say, pray tell?
"I... I'm so, so sorry, princess..." you tremble, head dipping down to the cobblestones. "I'm sorry, love..." You squint your eyes shut, hands shaking as you press them together, as if prostrating in fervent prayer. "I-I'm so, so sorry..." you repeat, muttering over and over again as tears begin falling from your face, the anguish and realization of what you've done too much for your soul to bear, mortal or not. "I don't deserve you... I'm a damned fool to the end..."
The penitent words spill from your lips like droplets of blood. You kneel before Princess Luna, head bowed, your entire being a study in contrition given mortal flesh. All about you, the townsponies of Ponyville gawp in mute astonishment at this unfolding spectacle.
Luna herself draws in a shuddering breath, turquoise eyes burning with the cosmic fire of a thousand dying suns. Her mane writhes with celestial energies, arcs of stray power crawling across those ethereal strands. For a span of several heartbeats, she regards you with an expression too complex, too devastated to parse.
Then, with a subtle inclination of her regal head, the Princess wills herself to composure. The wild corona of her mane smoothes, currents of magic ebbing like the outgoing tides. When at last she speaks, her words ring forth in that cultured Canterlot locution.
"Rise, Anon. We shall have... words, thee and I." Luna holds your gaze steadily, the barest hint of naked vulnerability flickering behind those Stygian depths.
Around you, ponies scramble in a bustle of flustered whispers and sidelong glances. Parents usher foals towards the fringes while others simply gape with unabashed curiosity. Even oblivious to the scrutiny, you can't help but feel the full weight of Luna's imperious presence searing straight through to your very soul.
With a trembling sigh, you haul yourself upright to face Her Majesty. Those terrible wings give a slight ruffle, azure plumes rearranging themselves in an almost self-conscious display. The Princess pivots on one hoof, then gestures with an infinitesimal tilt of her horn.
"Let us depart this spectacle." Her next words drop to a conspiratorial murmur clearly intended only for your ears. "We grow... weary of prying eyes."
Without awaiting your assent, the alicorn mare turns in a sweep of ethereal tresses and strides towards the outskirts of the town square. Over one withers, she tosses a final cryptic glance your way–one that brooks no refusal.
"Come along. There are... matters requiring further elucidation."
You follow behind as the Princess beckons with a subtle inclination of her horn. Her ethereal mane flows behind like rivulets of stardust, obscuring much of her petite frame from view. Yet you catch glimpses–the slight sway of her flanks, the imperious angle of those feathery wings furling and unfurling in a subconscious display of regal poise. Your eyes flick towards the gathering crows of rubbernecking onlookers and you suppress a wince. Just another public spectacle for Equestria's never-ending rumor mill to chew over; even a thousand years later you're aptly familiar with the notion.
Up ahead, Luna leads on in a measured, unhurried stride, clearly masking a disquiet that simmers beneath that unflappable exterior. Her tail swishes in tight, agitated arcs, the only outward betrayal of whatever maelstrom roils just beneath that placid surface. You fall in step silently several paces behind, uncertain whether to match her pace or give some deference with added distance. She approaches the chariot from earlier that night, her thestral batpony guards ever-vigilant as they cast you a suspicious eye.
Princess Luna's horn glows faintly as she floats herself up into the chariot, wings furling and unfurling with patrician grace. Those thestral guards–their flared nostrils and narrowed eyes tracking your every move–bristle ever so slightly at your forward momentum.
She catches your tentative pause, however, arching one slender brow in an unmistakable challenge. "Our words were not mere suggestion, sirrah. Board this conveyance and accompany Us, post-haste."
Her regal tones brook no further dissension. With a muted snort, the Princess settles herself amidst the chariot's plush cushions, swishing her ethereal tail idly as she awaits your compliance.
The thestrals exchange a look, hulking shoulders rising and falling in an approximation of a shrug. One knuckles his brow in a gruff salute as their wings unfurl with an audible rrrrrRIP of stretching membranes.
Whether through raw defiance or simple bemusement at the sheer absurdity of it all, you can't quite decide. Nonetheless, you steel yourself with a breath and step forward, clambering up into the chariot to settle gingerly on the padded seat across from Luna.
Almost immediately, the thestrals leap skyward, powerful wingbeats kicking up miniature cyclones in their wake. They pull the chariot aloft with startling swiftness, clearing the rooftops of Ponyville in the span of a few heartbeats.
Beneath you, the panicked townsponies look on in awestruck silence as their regal ruler simply... spirited away into the night along with that strange, imposing creature seemingly at the heart of this cosmic unraveling.
Luna regards you sidelong during your rapid ascent, inscrutable thoughts churning behind those ancient, fathomless depths. The chariot's motion grows smoother as the thestrals find their cadence, gliding on the currents of cool autumn winds.
"Doth this conveyance bring thee discomfort?" the Princess inquires after a contemplative pause. "'Tis admittedly ill-suited to thy lack of wings, We must confess."
There's an undercurrent of something in her tone just then. Idle curiosity? A subtle attempt at levity following your... rather fraught reunion? Perhaps even the beginnings of yet another subtle barb, readied to be loosed at a moment's provocation?
Regardless, those mercurial irises remain locked to yours, awaiting your response with what you can only describe as placid expectation. Whatever inner storm rages behind that facade, for now at least it holds its peace–albeit tenuously.
"No, um, princess, 'tis fine," you murmur, unsure of what to say. Still, as always, you forge ahead. "I fear I've... dashed your hopes for a joyous Nightmare Night in the most thoughtless fashion imaginable."
You're not quite sure how to respond to Princess Luna's tentative overture. The surreal spectacle of cruising through the night sky in Her Majesty's royal chariot has a way of rendering mere words clumsily impotent. Does one quip about the accommodations? Wax philosophical about the scenic vistas afforded by open air flight? Hah, fat chance.
Navigating the mercurial temperaments of alicorn princesses is already a fraught affair without piling on sardonic bon mots. Especially when said alicorn remains visibly teetering on the precipice between righteous fury and... something far more dangerous. Something tender and vulnerable that you sense would shatter like spun glass at the slightest misstep.
Still, sitting here in charged silence quickly grows stifling. The thestrals' rhythmic wingbeats provide a steady cadence, but do little to fill the palpable void. Luna casts you sidelong glances from beneath hooded lids, each one carrying faint hints of unnamed emotions flickering through those azure irises.
At last, she breaks the stillness, words measured with regal bearing. "One-thousand years past, you spurned our intended union in pursuit of..." She pauses fractionally, as though tasting the words before uttering them. "Immortal congress. A goal thou now claimst attained."
Oh? Is that a subtle note of... skepticism lacing her tone? The Princess leans in infinitesimally, feathery wingtips giving an agitated twitch. "Wherefore then, didst thou return to Equestria now after all this age? What inscrutable aim guides thy course on this hallowed of nights?"
Those ancient eyes pin you in place with their cosmic intensity, daring you to so much as omit a single undergirding truth. At her core, Luna has ever been relentlessly forthright – a seeker of unvarnished realities beneath layers of obfuscation.
At this point, you're not even sure. Making good on your promise? You shattered that trust the moment you left. Yet she demands an explanation, and so you shall give.
"Truthfully... I know not anymore," you mutter, clasping your hands together as you look down at them. "My servitude in Farasi ended months ago. Immediately I gathered my things and made for Equestria as soon as I was able."
You pause a few seconds, tilting your gaze back up tentatively to the princess. "I'd planned on traveling to Canterlot proper to have made my appearance, giving us both time to... prepare, but I was traveling through Ponyville tonight and decided to enjoy some of the festivities before making my way further towards the capital. I hadn't expected an appearance from royalty this far out, but..." you trail off, unsure of how to continue from there.
You'd also chosen this route in order to take some time to pay reverence at the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters; you spent plenty of time traveling its long-wasted away halls, revisiting old paths you'd traveled: the royal archives, where your nights of research took place leading up to you leaving; the winding staircase towards Luna's personal bedchambers you'd always fantasized about being able to walk along unmolested, up to your awaiting paramour... all fallen to ruin after that fateful night.
"I... saw what happened to the castle in the Everfree. I'm... sorry about that, too," you say, not an ounce of the characteristic coyness or mirth behind your tone.
"I'm afraid there was no grand cosmic plan behind my return, Princess," you admit with a rueful shake of your head. "Only ever a foolish old man, wishing to reunite with his beloved and reclaim those halcyon days of passion and romance." You sigh. "Though I suppose such notions are that idealistic youthful vigor of mine shining through even after all this time... or stubbornness. Or both."
Princess Luna's ethereal mane dances in cosmic ripples, mirroring those heavenly lights flickering across her midnight coat. She regards you sidelong through hooded turquoise spheres, fins quirking in that peculiar equine gesture of piqued curiosity.
"Thou hast spoken plainly of thy aims," she murmurs at length, words carrying the weight of a royal decree. "Yet We confess to sensing... obfuscations shrouded 'neath thy pledges of affection eternal."
A delicate winged brow angles upward, wordless challenge to rebut her accusation. Those terrible cosmic eyes narrow infinitesimally as she drinks in the sight of you squirming beneath her imperious scrutiny.
"Art thou certain no ulterior motivations steer thy course, strange one?" Luna intones, every syllable etched in acid skepticism. "Some deeper ambition lurking obscured behind honeyed vows of courtly dalliance?"
The Princess leans in until you can taste the electric tang of magic on the air gusting from her flared nostrils. Here is the full, terrible brunt of a nigh-immortal spirit's incisive discernment focused squarely upon you. Like a butterfly pinned beneath a cosmic lens, your every involuntary twitch and furtive eye movement is mercilessly catalogued and dissected for hidden meanings.
"Speak true, Sirrah," she commands in a tone that brooks no dalliance. "We would have this entire truth set plain ere proceeding any further down whate'er tangled path fate hath woven."
"Never have, never would dream of it," you shake your head, meeting her gaze steadily now. "My only singular motivation, ambition, was always you, whether foolish or not. As my betrothed, I..." you trail off, lost for words as you search her eyes for something, anything. "I wished only for your happiness, love."
For the span of several beats, Princess Luna simply... regards you, nostrils twitching almost imperceptibly as she mulls over your plaintive avowal. That starswept mane billows in a cosmic tide, ethereal tresses rippling across her withers in mesmerizing undulations.
At last, the regal alicorn leans back with an inscrutable dip of her head. Begrudging acknowledgment? Fleeting amusement at the sheer audacity of your claims? Or perhaps some deeper sardonic musing upon the vagaries of fate that seem to endlessly draw you both into its tangled weave, no matter how frayed those threads may become?
Regardless, the Princess's voice rings forth, rich and resonant when next she speaks. "So be it, strange one." Her words hold an exploratory cadence, as if testing the very syllables upon her tongue. "For present, We shall accept thy claims of... singular ardor at humble face value."
One feathery wing extends in an unconscious sweep, azure primaries trailing idle patterns across the chariot's cushioned interior. "Though We must confess, the mind boggles at the implications therein. A love so profound as to tempt the very laws of celestial reality?"
Those turquoise irises gleam with a hint of sardonic whimsy. "One might be forgiven for mistaking such fervent convictions as the maunderings of a madpony, sirrah. Or..." She hesitates fractionally, as if considering whether to veer her line of inquiry down a new avenue. But for once, discretion prevails in the Princess of the Night's domain.
"No matter." She demurs with a negligent toss of her radiant mane. Her gaze bores into yours, smoldering like the hearts of long-dead stars. "Suffice to say, We are... intrigued to plumb these mysteries in greater depth. If thou art truthful in thy vigor, then what unspools from here shall prove most elucidating indeed for us both."
The Princess pauses, as if awaiting acknowledgement. But you know better by now than to speak over her regal silences unbidden. Sure enough, she presses on after those few charged heartbeats.
"For make no mistake, strange one–We shall be watchful for even the faintest deceptions or failings in thine intent." There's an undercurrent of hardness behind those words, echoing like the grinding of cosmic gears. "See that no veils of honeyed artifice sully what vows and oaths thee makest unto Us going forth."
With a swish of her ethereal tail, Luna leans back into the chariot's cushions, regarding you with an imperious aspect. The achingly vulnerable creature from mere moments before seems to withdraw behind that cultured veneer once more. Yet you cannot shake the sense that those turquoise depths remain focused with laserlike keenness upon your every minute reaction, probing for the slightest slippage or falter in your presented facade.
The thestral guards overhead bank in a wide, lazy turn, steering your conveyance away from Ponyville proper. As the thatched rooftops and bustling town square recede into the distance, you spot an even more looming silhouette resolving itself against the midnight horizon ahead.
Canterlot Castle. Home of the Diarchical rule of Equestria's day and night royalty. The grand, sweeping spires gleam like polished obsidian and opalescent pearl beneath the waxing moon's lambent glow. Your heart begins to quicken despite your best efforts to soothe its anxious cadence.
After over a thousand years, you've finally returned to the hallowed halls of Luna's celestial palace. Whatever destiny awaits you within those vaunted towers remains unwritten–but bound to prove utterly pivotal. One way or another, this fateful reunion between immortal Princess and prodigal paramour shall be set into the eternal annals.
Lounging amidst the plush cushions of Princess Luna's bedchamber, you can't help but let your thoughts wander to… delicate subjects. The soft evening light filters through the balcony's gossamer curtains, casting warm apricot hues across your bare skin.
An idle glance traces the sinuous curves of Luna's sleeping form beside you. The Princess lays curled up in that gloriously equine way–legs tucked up under her lithe frame, those delicate wings furled against her flanks. Her midnight blue coat practically glows in the fading rays.
Ethereal tresses spill across the pillows in a starry azure cascade. Even at rest, Luna's very presence commands the eye to linger, drinking in each regal detail.
You reach out, overcome by an urge to run your fingers through those shimmering strands. But then your errant hand stills halfway, suddenly remembering the last time such a liberty roused her ire…
Best not to risk a repeat admonishment from your moody lunar beloved so close to your impending nuptials. Instead, you content yourself with simply watching the gentle rise and fall of her barrel with each hushed exhalation.
A wistful smile quirks your lips as you picture the sight, years from now. Luna, the most powerful and majestic of deities… perhaps, cradling a child of your joined bloodlines in those radiant wings. Your imaginings spin forth, painting vivid tableaus of filly and colt foals gallivanting underfoot as their mother looks on with regal indulgence.
The idyllic fantasy tugs at something deep within your soul. Truly, there could exist no greater culmination of your love and life's purpose than siring an heir to stand at Luna's side through the endless march of centuries to come. An immortal legacy, both figurative and literal.
Yet… would it be fair to them? You ponder with a furrowed brow. To bring new life into this realm, only for that spark to inevitably wither and gutter out whilst Luna remained, eternal and undying? The notion smarts like a century's worth of old wounds.
Regardless, the dilemma is worth broaching while the princess enjoys her respite. Settling back into the cushions, you clear your throat and pitch your voice into that mellifluous tenor that always seems to rouse your moody lunar mare's attentions.
"Love?" you softly murmur. "Hast thou given thought to the prospect of… progeny?" you ask, face lightly flushed as you broach the question.
You watch with bated breath as Luna's eyes languidly flutter open, blinking slowly before focusing upon you with that familiar intensity. The Princess regards your expectant expression for a heartbeat. Then her velvety lips curl in a sardonic smirk that immediately sets your instincts on edge.
"Well now, aren't we wasting no time broaching delicate subjects…" she practically purrs in that throaty contralto she has when just awakening. Each syllable dances across your nerves like the trailing caress of her feathery wingtips.
"Progeny, hmm?" Luna muses, rolling fluidly onto her barrel as she evaluates you from beneath hooded lids. Her mane ripples in a cosmic rainfall, stardust whorls ebbing and flowing across that sleek midnight coat. "Such heavy contemplations… One might deduce certain concerns furrow thy brow, my beloved."
She punctuates her teasing lilt with an impish flick of her tail across your waist. Despite the intimacy of the gesture, you don't miss the fleeting shadows playing behind those sapphire irises. Even at her most unguarded, your lunar beloved continues probing for some deeper kernel of insight buried amidst your queries.
The Princess arches her slender neck, her wings giving a languorous stretch that showcases every curve of her frame. Against your will, you find your gaze drawn in helpless appreciation to the sinuousness of her motions. After all these weeks of clandestine liaisons, Luna's effortless sensuality never fails to bewitch.
"Nay, nothing so profound. Just… idle musings," you smile affectionately, drawing her in close. "'Tis only natural for one to ponder what might befall possible futures, is it not?" you ask, pressing a small, chaste kiss atop her nose.
The corners of Luna's lips twitch in that almost-feline, knowing smirk you've come to know so well. A few errant strands of cosmic mane trail in languid coils across her withers as she shifts position, turning to fully face you with a regal tilt of her chin.
"Idle musings?" Her dulcet tones hold a lilt of sardonic amusement, one winged brow arching in that silent challenge. "Nay, beloved, We spy a deeper vein of consideration furrowed across thy countenance this eventide. Whispers of preoccupations better laid plain."
Luna leans in closer, muzzle dipping conspiratorially as her eyes gleam with that smoldering, all-too-perceptive light. "What weighs so heavily upon thy restless thoughts? Speak true, Anon–I shall brook no deflections or misted truths so close to our celestial union."
There's an undercurrent to her words you can't quite parse. Playful curiosity warring with some deeper prickle of… concern? Your lunar beloved's mercurial moods have ever swung between imperious arrogance and guarded vulnerability like cosmic pendulums. The mare currently fixing you with that piercing stare seems caught somewhere betwixt the two poles, awaiting whatever revelation you choose to impart.
You ponder for a heartbeat how much to divulge. Luna's intuition remains as keen as a wolf's–she'll sense any attempt at obfuscation or misdirection regarding your inner turmoils. Yet the issues gnawing at your soul this evening feel almost too… profound. Too existential to summarize in a few halting phrases without appearing utterly unhinged.
At last, you settle for the simplest version of the truth. Meeting that smoldering azure gaze steadily, you reach out to gently stroke the silken fur along Luna's jawline.
"We merely…" You pause, gathering your thoughts before continuing in that slow, implacable cadence. "Cannot seem to escape contemplating the notion of our love bearing forth new life unto this realm, only for us to inevitably…" You trail off with a rueful shake of your head.
The words catch in your throat, dry and raspy as scorched parchment. Those shimmering eyes of hers bore into you, unblinking. For all her prim equine airs, Luna displays an almost serpentine attentiveness in moments like these–intense, almost predatory, in her silent scrutiny.
You fight off the fleeting urge to swallow. It would belie the disquiet churning in your gut at having to give voice to these existential ponderings. Yet you know your beloved well enough to recognize when the Princess has sunk her proverbial fangs into a line of inquiry. There shall be no escaping this particular conversational quarry until she's had her fill.
So with a resolute inhalation, you press onward. "What awaits our… potential offspring?" The words feel leaden, almost too weighty to pass your lips. "Were we to bring forth new life in our union, they would greet this realm as the union of mortal and… immortal rendered flesh."
You pause, pulse thundering in your ears. Even after all these intimate weeks of playful backchannel and heated flirtation, uttering such existential notions out loud feels… profane, somehow. Like blasphemies spoken before altars of the holiest mysteries.
Luna's attentions remain utterly riveted upon you. Not a twitch or subtle swish of that mane of hers disturbs her poised façade. On the surface, her expression betrays naught but polite interest. Yet you sense those cosmic gears grinding away in that beautiful, incisive mind.
Swallowing hard against a sudden aridity gripping your throat, you resume your halting preamble. "Would it be right to shackle a soul to such… impermanence? Forcing them to love, age, and wither before your very eyes whilst you remain eternal, my nightingale?"
There. The kernel of your burgeoning doubts lies bare before Luna's gaze. You watch with bated breath as her exquisite features remain utterly unreadable for a long, drawn-out pause.
Princess Luna cants her head in a manner suggesting mirthful contemplation. For a lingering span, she remains silent while seeming to mull over your gravid query.
At last, the barest ghost of a sardonic smile teases those regal lips. "Thou dost worry overmuch about matters yet unspun by the loom of Fate, beloved," she chides gently. A few errant starry tresses caress your chest as the alicorn mare leans in closer.
"Have patience, love," Luna murmurs in that rich, smoky timbre. "Five days, and the dim morrow shall render itself clear upon the dawn of our nuptial bliss." One feathery wingtip trails along your jawline in a featherlight caress that sends delicious tingles cascading down your spine.
Before you can so much as part your lips, however, the Princess leans in nearer still, until your every inhalation carries the taste of her equine musk. "Although, if thou dost require concrete reassurances…" Luna breathes in a conspiratorial burr, velvety words ghosting across the sensitive whorls of your ear. "We shall endeavor to provide ample… distractions from such fretting this eventide."
You shiver involuntarily at her blatant insinuation, your mouth suddenly feeling arid. A beat of charged stillness stretches out between you as those lambent teal eyes of hers seemingly drink in your very essence. Then Luna blinks once in a slow, languid sweep of her lashes that utterly shatters the illusion.
"Unless of course… thou prefferst to wile the remaining hours mired in… circuitous metaphysics?" she husks, tilting her muzzle in a wordless challenge.
You regard Princess Luna with a mixture of boyish enthusiasm and wistful longing. Despite the rakish grin tugging at your lips, you can't quite mask the depths of emotions her teasing insinuations stir within you. This beautiful, mercurial creature with the soul of an immortal goddess all too often awakens the humbled poet lurking beneath your carnal veneers.
"Metaphysics, thou sayest?" you murmur, leaning in until the very air between you two grows charged with heady portent. Your next words emerge in a rasping growl that sends a delicious frisson rippling through your lunar beloved's withers. "Why Princess, We do believe accusations of such dry pedantry wound Us most grievously…"
With agonizing slowness, you reach up to languidly trail your fingertips along the feminine curve of Luna's jawline. She remains utterly transfixed, pupils dilating as your touch ghosts across those sleek fur lines in the lightest of caresses.
"Nay, dear Stardust," you breathe, hot and ardent against the velveteen contours of her ear. "Our only desire for this fading eventide is to explore the most sacred of mysteries in rapturous commune with our muse celestial…"
Luna's chest expands fractionally with a sharp inhalation, the rising tides of something fiercely sensual stirring to wakefulness behind her practiced airs of modesty. Her tongue darts out to moisten those lush lips in an unconscious equine tell. You can't resist a veritable grin of triumph at having stoked her baser embers so readily. "Every movement, every caress, every sound in our symphony of bliss…"
The sultry implications of your words seem to ripple through Princess Luna's very being like a physical force. You watch, rapt, as her pupils blow wide–brilliant turquoise irises swallowed by pools of midnight, devouring that regal facade in a tidal wave of primal ardor.
Those velvety lips part in a sharp inhalation, nostrils flaring delicately as the alicorn struggles to maintain her poise. Her sleek azure barrel visibly expands and contracts with each quickening breath.
"Such… brazenness…" Luna husks, the words emerging in a throaty rasp dripping with unspoken promises. Despite her bravado, you spy a telling quirk at the corner of her mouth–scarcely perceptible, yet present nonetheless.
A thrill courses through you at having chipped away that imperious outer shell, if only for an instant. Pressing your advantage, you lean in closer until your next words rasp directly against the delicate tip of her ear.
"What sayest thou, oh radiant Moonbeam?" You don't bother masking your grin at her muted shudder. "Wilt thou indulge thine unworthy servant's fervent cravings this eve? Or must We plead our case further before thy formidable tribunal?"
Luna's feathery lashes flutter infinitesimally. You watch, utterly transfixed, as those hooded eyes seem to drink you in–roving across your features in a smoldering caress that sets your pulse hammering anew.
At last, the Princess inclines her regal head in a subtle beckoning gesture, starry mane swirling in cosmic eddies.
"Then let thy lurid passions flow forth unchecked, my heart's flame," she rumbles in a tone brimming with sensual challenge. "Strip away coy pretenses and bared intentions, that We might savor the essence of thy storm entire."
Electricity crackles through the charged space between you at Luna's brazen decree. Before you can so much as part your lips, however, the alicorn shifts closer, barrel undulating in a sinuous, agonizingly slow motion against you.
"This hallowed union shalt be sealed in the tempest of our joined raptures," she vows, each syllable dripping carnal promise. "Let our ardors blaze unfettered beneath the cosmos' loving gaze this eventide, beloved…"
The chariot ride gives you ample time to appreciate the surreal situation you find yourself in as Canterlot Castle looms ever nearer on the horizon. You, Anon–a mere mortal who abandoned his true love Princess Luna so many centuries ago in pursuit of the elixir of life–now share the night sky with that same mythic mare of the moon.
Her cosmic mane ripples and flows like liquid starlight as she regards you with those piercing sapphire eyes. The undercurrents of hurt and rage from earlier have subsided… for now. Yet you can't shake the sense that the Princess remains perched on a knife's edge, torn between righteous fury and something softer, more vulnerable.
The thestrals bank in a lazy arc, adjusting course to approach one of the castle's lofty rear terraces. Delicate wisps of cloud matter part as you draw closer, allowing you an unimpeded glimpse of the breathtaking spired architecture.
Chiseled towers and parapets loom like craggy cliffs girding the palace's central citadel. Towering obelisks and buttresses appear sculpted from seamless slabs of gleaming marble, their soaring heights adorned with intricate celestial friezes and bas-reliefs. Despite its grandeur, Luna's home exudes an undeniable aura of… otherness. As if its very foundations were delicately upheld by more tenuous mystic forces than mere mortarwork.
This is far beyond what you could have imagined from your time in Equestria a thousand years ago; back then, Canterlot was but a mere village on the edge of the mountain. To think that tiny settlement had blossomed into the massive city sprawling before you…
You fight to keep your gawking eyes forward as the thestrals deftly pilot your chariot through a series of aerobatic maneuvers. The winged batponies swoop low, then peel off in arcing vectors before a steep climbing pivot. All while Luna lounges in her plush cushions, seemingly unruffled by their daredevil antics.
Finally, your conveyance glides through a yawning archway onto one of the terraces. The thestrals' wingbeats kick up dust as they settle upon the polished stonework. One of the burly guards touches down and dips his head respectfully towards Luna.
"We have arrived, Your Highness," he rumbles in a gravelly baritone. "It would be our honor to lend a hoof in disembarking this… elevated visitor."
His nostrils flare fractionally as you fight back an indignant scowl. The Princess hardly seems to note her subject's veiled insolence, however, and with a negligent flick of her feathered primaries, she addresses you in crisp Canterlot diction. "Very well. Let us repair inside these hallowed halls, knave." Her regal countenance offers no outward tells, though a slight furrow creases her brow. "There are matters requiring… further elucidation, as We have mentioned."
With that, Luna sweeps off the chariot in a single fluid motion. Those magnificent wings of hers extend to their full cosmic span, shimmering like a fragment of the night sky itself rendered in feathers. As much as you wish to shrink back from her imperious hauteur, some stubborn core part of you refuses to cower before this immortal spirit's grandeur.
You glance at the thestral guard and briefly take his hoof, hopping down from the chariot onto the stonework below. "Lead on then, Stardust," you intone, pitching your voice low. Whether to mask the tremor of uncertainty or convey some bravado is unclear even to you as you follow the princess inside.
The quiet echo of hoofsteps on marble floors reverberates through the expansive hallway as Princess Luna leads you deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of Canterlot Castle. Her mane shimmers with stray cosmic motes that cast faint kaleidoscopic patterns dancing across the polished walls.
Despite the grandeur of these palatial surroundings, you can't quite shake a creeping sense of trepidation. The proud arch of Luna's neck, the regal sway of her flanks–each seemingly innocuous detail belies a celestial power and millennia-honed mystique far beyond mortal ken.
You swallow hard against the dryness gripping your throat. This is not at all how you envisioned broaching your long-overdue reunion. Yet here you stride, an insignificant speck in the wake of Equestria's immortal Night Princess, bound for… what fate, exactly?
Only the steady percussive cadence of your boots on stone breaks the fraught stillness between you. Without preamble, Luna banks around a corner, proceeding down an adjoining passage lined with alcoves bearing various moon iconographies. You hasten to keep pace, taking stock of your otherworldly surroundings.
"These hallways are familiar to me, yet… different, Princess," you venture after several beats of silence have elapsed. An attempt to fill the void and soothe your own nerves, yes–but also the faintest of olive branches extended. "Before, every fresco and mural was an intimate companion, pondered over many a restless evening past."
Up ahead, Luna's gait slows fractionally. Over one shoulder, she casts you a sidelong look that betrays nothing of her thoughts on the matter. Still, you forge onward with your musings, buoyed by that infinitesimal acknowledgment.
"That one in particular–" You nod towards a larger-than-life mosaic depicting the Princesses warding off some otherworldly, tentacled cosmic horror. "I remember I once spent the better part of three nights pouring over the symbolism and celestiography depicted in the original." The faintest hint of a wry smirk ghosts across your lips as you recall the fond, if dry, memory. "Your sister eventually had to have me removed from the library on grounds of, ah… 'unkempt living habits', in her words."
There, a subtle crack in Luna's stoic façade at last–the merest upward twitch of one winged brow. Begrudging nostalgia, perhaps?
You follow the fluent sway of Luna's gait down the moonlit halls, drinking in the sights of this hauntingly familiar yet so strangely altered castle. It truly is as if you've stumbled through some cosmic weftway into a subtly skewed parallel of your fondest recollections.
Up ahead, your enigmatic lunar guide slows her cadence fractionally. For the span of several heartbeats, she glances over one shoulder at you, eyes glimmering in the dim torchlight like depthless cosmic pools. You note the way her feathery primaries give the barest twitch. A pointed flick of those regal ears suggests your clumsy attempts at levity were not entirely unheeded.
"Verily, 'twas ever thus whenever thou grew too… overindulgent in thine intellectual ardors," Luna remarks at last in a tone of affected weariness. Though you fancy catching a fleeting twinkle of nostalgic mirth flitting behind those sapphire depths. "We recall the handmaids' endless spates of griping over thy scholastic detritus littering the royal archives like a storm's winds had strewn them about."
The Princess shakes her regal head in a gesture of sardonic bemusement. Yet even as the motion sets her mane swirling in lambent cosmic cascades, you sense a subtle thawing–an intangible slackening of the brittle tensions that previously gripped her like iron shackles. A glimmer of your bygone camaraderie, perhaps, pushing forth through the cracks in her jaded veneer like the first vibrant petals of springtime after an endless winter's bitter dreaming.
You watch, heart rate quickening despite your best efforts to remain outwardly poised, as Luna pivots fully to fix you with a considering look. When next she speaks, her words emerge soft and burred–an almost conspiratorial murmur.
"Though We must admit, even Our most curmudgeonly archivists oft marveled over thy… singular zeal for unearthing even the driest and most recondite of knowledges. 'Twas both baffling and, in a peculiar way… endearing, truth be told."
You give a low, sardonic chuckle. "One might think I could have been a second Starswirl the Bearded, had I remained… though, admittedly I imagine my title wouldn't have been so… hair-brained." Ahh, starting to slip into rhyme again; seems like you're starting to ease into more comfortable conversations. Hopefully she doesn't mind.
"What impudence," she scoffs, rolling her eyes in that exaggeratedly equine manner that never fails to endear itself to you. "To even entertain comparisons between thy paltry scholarly triflings and one of Equestria's most legendary archmages? Truly, thine ego remains as voracious as ever."
Despite the Princess's sardonic disdain, the corners of her lips betrays the faintest of smirks. You can't resist a grin in return, reveling in this tentative rapport despite the fraught undercurrents lingering between you. Luna shakes her head once more, though her cosmic mane ripples playfully.
"Thou wert ever prone to shameless boasts and embellishments," she murmurs in a tone laced with something bordering on… nostalgia? "We wonder if perhaps that was a mortal idiosyncrasy intended to charm, or simply the product of an inflated sense of self-importance?"
Her wings give an affected little ruffle as she eyes you up and down in patent appraisal. You sense a glittering of impish mischief behind those irises of hers.
"Although We must admit, 'twas at times rather endearing to witness thy… excessive zeal," Luna concedes, pursing those lush indigo lips. "Like a determined colt scrambling to prove his prowess to elders. Had We been of a crueler disposition, We might even have encouraged such posturings for Our own amusement." The tiniest of rumbles, almost a suppressed giggle, reverberates in her throat at the thought.
You arch one eyebrow in response, crossing your arms in a show of playfully exaggerated umbrage. "Excessive zeal, you say?" you echo with an arched brow, sidestepping to bring yourself abreast of the statuesque alicorn as she swishes down the corridor. "Why, next you'll accuse this humble scholar of having let his studious ardor morph into downright obsessive squalor!"
You punctuate the declaration by flourishing one hand in an expansive arc. A few passing guardsponies skitter back in alarm at your sudden animated gestures, shooting nervous side-eyes at the lunar monarch in your midst.
Princess Luna, for her part, graces them with an utterly nonchalant look of regal indifference. "What, praytell, dost drive thee to such grandiloquent flamboyance?" she intones in that rich, cultured Canterlot accent of hers. "Unless of course, thou seekest to reaffirm thine own propensity for… peacocking, was it?"
Her words practically drip with barbs of sardonic amusement at your immodest display. Despite yourself, you can't quite resist meeting her mischievous gaze with an answering smirk, marveling at the easy way you've both slipped back into these comfortable grooves of playful banter.
You can't quite resist letting your lips quirk in a sardonic grin at Luna's barbed rejoinder. The Princess and her ever-keen wit–truly a delight to spar with! Her eyes dance with impish mischief, seemingly daring you to rise to the flagrant bait.
Still, two can play at these sorts of games. With an indolent roll of your shoulders, you school your features into an expression of exquisite nonchalance. "Why Princess, whatever could you mean?" you counter in a tone dripping practiced diffidence. "I was under the impression that pristine courtly manners dictated a modicum of… flourishing from any aspiring cavalier worth his salts in courting."
A beat lurches past as Luna cocks one imperious eyebrow in a wordless challenge of your bravado. Not missing a stride, you lift your chin and press the offense.
"Unless, of course, thy preference tends towards the uncouth philistine, who doth loaf about tavern dregs, uncaring for even the most basic observances of form and proper breeding?" You can't quite mask the impish twinkling in your eye. Riling up Luna's imperious instincts never fails to amuse, though you'd best mind straying too far into combative territory tonight.
The midnight blue alicorn snorts delicately, tossing her regal head in a show of exaggerated exasperation. Still, you don't miss the way her full lips quirk ever so subtly upwards. She's enjoying this little repartee just as much as you are!
"Thou artless wag," Luna intones, feigning a world-weary sigh. "We ought strip thee of thy posturing affectations and lay bare that inveterate showpony's spirit to humble itself in Our presence."
It takes all your willpower to not give her the 'make me' eyes, but you do manage to hold some manner of restraint. "Were it that easy, t'would have been a very short courtship indeed. But… I suppose there are other things we should attend to first… agreed?" You close your eyes and take a breath to calm yourself, giving her now a polite smile. "After all, we have 'matters' to discuss, 'tis as you decreed."
"So fixated on courtly affectations, this one," she drawls at length, each cultured syllable rolling off her tongue like cut velvet being unfurled. "Yet We cannot resist pondering how much of it stems from sincere ethos, and how much is naught but artifice donned like some gaudy mummer's robe?"
Those indigo wings extend fractionally in a minuscule ripple of motion. Despite the barb of her words, her tone remains honeyed–laced with the indelible sort of playful mischief you vividly recall from your courtship's dream-hazy halcyon days.
"Surely, no mere preening courtier's spawn could boast such… singular zeal for even the dustiest of academic trifles?" One slender brow arches in a pointed challenge. "Unless of course, thou art putting on airs to feed some base vanity lurking 'neath all that pomp and bluster?"
"Hadst thou considered, perhaps, that such singular zeal could somehow, simply… exist?" You wave a hand nonchalantly. "That a mortal such as myself might have had simpler motivations; I insist."
Luna casts you a sidelong look from beneath lowered lashes. Yet those quicksilver irises belie an impish gleam you've come to recognize all too well. She's thoroughly enjoying this little dance of witty rejoinders after so long apart.
"So resolute in thine… convictions," she remarks at length in a tone that suggests she only half-believes your professed motivations. A measured wing-swish punctuates the subtle challenge inherent in her words. "Though We must admit, 'tis rather… intriguing to ponder what could drive such airs of scholarly ardor in one not born to arcane mysteries."
Ah, there it is! The faintest quirk of one indigo lip–an unspoken dare dangled before you, baiting your spirit to rise and meet her bold pronouncement. Your lunar beloved has always excelled at stroking these particular metaphorical embers.
"Magic and arcana might be beyond my capabilities, true," you intone, before tapping your temple with a finger. "Though one as eternal as yourself should know that there are more paths to pursue. For that reason, precisely, is why I chose alchemy, and learning how to potion-brew."
Sliding into that subject, you focus to dial back the rhyming; best to draw back the levity and give the subject the seriousness it deserves. "'Twas… once more, never my intention to hurt you so, my Stardust," you breathe out a small sigh. "That same single-minded zeal that drove such ardor blinded me to the impact of my actions on what was to be our happiest day."
Princess Luna scrutinizes you with an impervious expression, that mask of aloof regality draping her elegant features. Yet you fancy catching the barest hint of curiosity tugging at the corner of her mouth as she mulls over your enigmatic confession.
"Alchemy, thou sayest?" she intones at length, dark brows angling in that inquisitive equine gesture you remember so fondly. "A most… unconventional pursuit for one of thy ilk, We must confess."
Luna's lambent turquoise depths remain utterly focused upon you, and her ears cant forward in that distinctive listening posture. The alicorn's muzzle remains slightly parted as if to better taste the very ether between you two for the faintest whispers of illumination. Even now, ageless eons removed from your salad days of courtship, you cannot help but feel a nostalgic pang at how utterly transfixed she grows when indulging her thirst for knowledge.
Steeling yourself beneath her scrutiny, you endeavor to gather the frayed threads of your narrative. "Alchemy was… a peculiar path to be certain," you admit with a faint quirk of your lips. "Though one that ultimately proved the sole means to secure my heart's deepest desire."
"You see…" Your voice lowers to a hushed murmur, imbuing each syllable with the weight of utmost sincerity. "My love for you became as all-consuming as the grandest stellar furnaces shortly after our betrothal was announced. And not simply in the carnal sense, though our… physical rapport was indeed…" You pause, allowing yourself a rueful chuckle at the recollection of those fevered nights spent worshipping every sublime inch of Luna's celestial form.
"No, 'twas a deeper longing that consumed my waking dreams," you continue, unable to tear your gaze from the Princess's captivated expression. "A yearning to join with you across the endless turnings of the cosmic wheel. To love and be loved in return, through the breadth of all eventualities, with nary a single revolution of the heavens separating us."
Princess Luna's gaze remains utterly transfixed upon you as you bare the emotional wellspring driving your quests of old. Those terrible cosmic wings extend in an unconscious display of grandeur, feathery primaries trailing faint auroras in their wake.
"So…" she murmurs at length, words etched in undisguised curiosity. "Thy single-minded pursuit of alchemical lore through the centuries was in truth… a labor of passion? An endeavor embarked upon to secure some manner of… everlasting congress with Us?"
The Night Princess's brow furrows infinitesimally as she mulls over this revelation. You can practically see the celestial gears grinding away behind those fathomless teal irises. When next Luna speaks, her tone carries a subtle undercurrent bordering on…awe?
"We must confess, the mind reels at such grandiose implications. To shackle one's spirit to the cosmic mysteries solely in pursuit of…" She pauses, as if tasting the words before uttering them with finality. "…love evermore with an immortal paramour?"
Wings rustling, Luna leans in closer to study your expression with laser-like intensity. The barest hint of an indigo flush blooms beneath that sleek midnight fur as the full import of your motivations settles in.
"Speak plain, for We would have this truth laid utterly bare," she declares in a tone edged with imperial command. "For what visions didst dance through a mortal mind to spawn such lofty and seemingly impossible ambitions?"
You consider Princess Luna's probing words with a thoughtful frown. Her unearthly gaze pierces you to the soul, those fathomless irises swirling with the mystery of a thousand cosmic eons. To speak plainly of the ambitions which first set you upon this path…
It seems suddenly so daunting a proposition. How to even begin unraveling the tangled motivations woven so deeply into your spirit's core? You let out a wistful sigh, buying a moment to gather your thoughts.
At last, you lock eyes with the statuesque princess and forge ahead:
"I suppose it all began with… daydreams, my Stardust," you murmur, unable to keep a hint of wistful longing from creeping into your voice. "Fevered imaginings wrought from the horrors of loss. Of watching you, eternal and undying, fade from my reach as the cruel tides of entropy swept me into oblivion's abyss… and before that, of my body growing old, my mind growing senile…"
You give an unconscious shudder, reliving those dark phantasms for but an instant. Yet even now, you sense Luna's regal countenance softening ever so slightly.
"I knew from the moment my love for you first blossomed, that I could not–would not–abide such existences divided betwixt the mortal and the immortal planes," you press on, unable to quell the rising ardor heating your words. "That no matter how blissful and rapturous our union should prove, the inescapable shadow of my transience would forever loom over our every embrace, every whispered endearment."
You draw in a steadying breath, Princess Luna regarding you with those infinite depths that put entire galaxies to shame. Her feathery wings give an infinitesimal ruffle, extending just a feather's breadth outwards. A subtle invitation to continue, you sense.
"As you say, Stardust… the prospect of losing you, even in fleeting imaginings…" This gives you pause. How to encapsulate that primal, visceral dread that gripped your soul from the moment you first entertained the ramifications of mortality in your union? "Let's just say the void that loomed chilled my spirit to the bone."
You let out a long exhale, the words emerging in a solitary plume on the hallway's still air. "And not simply an existential horror at my own death, though that too lurked ever in the back of my mind…" You note Luna's brow creasing infinitesimally at this revelation. "Nay, what gnawed at me far more were the nightmares of what your immortal existence would become in the wake of my extinguishing."
Despite your best efforts, your throat grows abruptly dry at the remembrance of those haunting visions–of your beloved Moonbeam left broken and bereft amidst the churning infinities of cosmic time. Forced to soldier on without even the comfort of decay's final reprieve, destined for a solitary road stretching on in perpetuity…
Thousands upon thousands of friends and subjects, fading like mayflies under Luna's ageless custodianship, while she remained, doomed to endure on and on as the lonely fulcrum of night's dreaming, her only companion being her sister.
Sucking in a sharp breath against the sudden tightness gripping your chest, you press on in throaty murmur laced with ardor. "These darkest of prophecies I could not–WOULD not–abide, sweet Moonbeam. For you most of all deserve to revel in the cosmic destinies allotted to us both."
Well, it seems your impassioned soliloquy has struck a chord within the regal Princess of the Night. Luna remains silent, though you notice the way her feathery wingtips give the faintest of agitated twitches. "So, thou doth profess," she murmurs at length, each syllabic footfall precise and measured as if treading upon tightropes. "An all-consuming ardor to bind thy ephemeral flame with Our eternal light."
The alicorn shifts her statuesque frame in an unconscious display of regal grandeur. Luna inches closer–near enough for you to see the aurora borealis of stardust whirling through the gossamer strands of her ethereal mane.
"We admit to being… intrigued by this grandiose quest thou spunnest across the ages," she husks, each word barely more than a conspiratorial whisper. "Wouldst thou expound upon this mythic elixir that supposedly granteth endless vigor and life unfading?"
Turquoise eyes blazing like newborn supernovae bore into yours with laserlike intensity. Heat prickles beneath your collar as Princess Luna awaits your response, utterly transfixed. There's an almost predatory quality to her unwavering scrutiny in these intimate quarters–as if her mere proximity instilled some intoxicating, mystical heaviness upon the very ether itself.
You open your mouth to respond, only for the curt clatter of approaching hoofsteps to cut you off. One of the Princess's royal batpony guards emerges around a corner up ahead, drawing up short upon beholding the two of you in this dimly-lit antechamber. He manages an awkward half-bow, throat visibly bobbing.
"Beg pardons, Your Majesty," the grizzled thestral stammers, clearly wrestling with his instinct to not acknowledge your presence outright. "I'd not realized you were… indisposed."
He sneaks a sidelong glance towards you, beady eyes narrowing. Luna, for her part, simply inclines her head in a negligent gesture–a silent command to proceed unbothered. The batpony rallies and presses on.
"The emissaries from the Griffon Kingdom have arrived ahead of schedule, Highness," he relays with a crisp exhale. "Their retinue grows… insistent on holding discourse regarding certain commercial shipping concerns before turning of the moon."
You turn your gaze down to your princess, and give a small, reassuring smile. "Suppose that will be a story for another time," you chuckle lightly, straightening yourself up to your full height as you let out a small huffed sigh. "Not to worry, I shan't be making any sort of grand escapes this night. Please, princess, do not let me keep you from your courtly duties."
Despite the gravity of your heartfelt confessions, Princess Luna eyes you with bemusement rather than scorn. The luminescence of her cosmic mane ripples like liquid moonlight across those noble features as she considers your acquiescent words.
"Very well then," the Princess remarks in that rich lunar timbre of hers. "We shall allow thee free range to wander Our hallowed halls… within reason, of course."
She punctuates that little caveat by arching one slender indigo brow in a wordless challenge. Still, you can't quite repress the surge of boyish glee bubbling up at having received Luna's indulgence–even if underpinned by veiled threats of retribution should you overstep.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," you manage, inclining your head in a respectful dip meant to convey gratitude. "I shall endeavor to keep a low profile while you attend to court matters. Just an insignificant being enjoying the cosmic grandeur of your kingdom from the sidelines."
The faintest of wrinkles creases the bridge of Luna's pert muzzle at your wry little aside. Before she can respond, however, the batpony guard clears his throat in a rusty rumble. "If it pleases you, Highness, I could assign a pair of sentries to… attend this visitor while you hold council?" He sneaks a sidelong look at you, beady eyes narrowing to inscrutable slits. "Simply to ensure no undue incidents nor… untoward explorations of restricted areas?"
Princess Luna appraises you for a lingering beat, giving her cosmic tresses a pensive toss. When at last she replies, her words emerge in a measured drawl. "No. We shall allow our esteemed guest a certain… degree of autonomy for the time being. Do be sure to remain within the royal residential wings, sirrah."
One feathery wing sweeps outwards, gesturing down the hall with regal insouciance.
"Enjoy thine evening revels and make thyself as comfortable as propriety allows." Despite the Princess's lofty words of assurance, her tone carries an unmistakable edge of subtle challenge. "Though pray take care to not overtax Our… hospitalities before We make adequate recompense this reunion. We would not see so momentous an occasion sullied by ambiguous improprieties."
Oh, she is utterly shameless, this Princess of the Night! For the span of several heartbeats, the two of you simply hold one another's gazes–the air between growing palpably charged and heavy with unspoken implications.
At last, Luna gives an idle wing-flutter, breaking the spell as she turns on one regal hoof and sets off down the hall. Her tail swishes almost playfully from side to side in her wake, leaving you watching after her retreating form.
Despite the underlying tension of unfinished business lingering between you, there's an undeniable spark of playfulness tingeing her aloof airs.
As if she fully expects you to take… certain liberties during your evening's idle roamings.
A wry smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Oh, you'll be the very picture of decorum, Princess. No need to fret over your hapless human paramour disgracing the royal suites with bawdy misconduct. Much.
The batpony guard eyes you with patent skepticism before sidling off to resume his watchful patrols. Left alone for the moment, you let out a low whistle of appreciation, surveying the opulent hallway's grandeur. Even after over a thousand years away, Equestria's architecture hasn't lost an iota of its breathtaking splendor… nor its distinctly otherworldly mystique.
Sweeping archways soar overhead in parabolic arcs chiseled from seamless slabs of ivory marble veined with glittering cosmic spirals. Delicate lunette frescoes and bas-relief friezes depict celestial iconographies and arcane stellar maps in lush hues. The vaulted walkways seem to go on forever, dimly-lit cerulean tiles stretching towards inscrutable distances.
You take a few meandering steps, running an idle hand along the ornately-carved balustrades. The polished stone remains refreshingly cool to the touch, negating any sense of stifling heat or stagnant dustiness one might expect from such ostentatious decor. No, these palatial interiors exude an ambiance of agelessness, of perpetual autumnal renewal.
You take a few indolent strides down the palatial corridor, unable to resist marveling at the grandeur surrounding you on all sides. Despite having strutted along very similar halls countless times in your days within the Castle of the Two Sisters, the sheer cosmic opulence of it all never fails to instill a sense of awestruck reverence.
Smiling to yourself, you run idle fingertips along the intricate friezes and lunettes lining the walls–massive columns festooned with arcane celestiographies and constelated with glyphs illustrating epic cosmological myths and allegories. You find yourself lingering over several familiar murals, rekindling memories of all the nights spent rapt before them in your scholarly youth.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, given your current… vulnerable state), the passage remains devoid of even the slightest spectral presence to inundate your wandering attentions. As you meander through an arched aperture into what seems to be an antechamber of sorts, your boots scuff quietly against the plush carpeting interwoven with starmaps and sigils.
The beat of wings rustling makes you pause, instinctively pivoting towards–
Oh. A quick sidelong glance confirms the intrusion is naught but another batpony guardmare bustling about. She pauses mid-flourish upon registering your presence in the chamber, canting her head in a mixture of consternation and trepidation. The two of you simply stare at one another for an achingly protracted moment, neither quite sure how to acknowledge this deliciously awkward encounter.
At last, the batpony guard clears her throat. "Ah, uhm… a thousand pardons, sir," she manages with a jerky bow of her head. "Didn't realize there were… visitors lurking about the west wing residential suites this evening. I shall, uh, take my leave at once if it pleases."
For a split second, you swear the poor mare looks as if she's debating whether to attempt making a hasty exit or simply stand at rapt attention. The comical indecision dancing across her features is enough to trigger a wry smirk from you despite your best efforts. Taking pity on the skittish servant, you elect to play along with her affected ignorance.
"No need for alarm, noble guard," you intone with a measured nod of greeting. "I've been granted leave by Her Majesty to discreetly wander the castle grounds for this evening's revels. Pray, make no fuss over my wandering comings and goings."
The batpony blinks owlishly at your casual dismissal of her concerns. She swallows visibly. "Ah… I see," she manages, still eyeing you with patent skepticism. "And Her Majesty, she… explicitly extended you free run of the royal residential quarters this evening?"
There's an undercurrent of frank disbelief coloring that inquiry. Yet the poor guard seems utterly torn between her understandable doubts… and the prospect of incurring Princess Luna's wrath by questioning her decrees.
You can't quite resist milking the delicious awkwardness of the situation. Hands clasped behind your back, you pace in an aimless half-circle, scrutinizing the mural-adorned walls with an air of exquisite nonchalance. "Why of course. Did you not hear her sumptuous decree resounding through these very halls?"
The batpony's furry ears cant forward in that patently equine listening gesture as you pivot towards her with a casual shrug. "I was instructed to 'make myself as comfortable as propriety allows within the royal residential wings', if memory recalls." You punctuate the remark by tapping one finger thoughtfully against your temple. "Though I must admit, the definition of 'propriety' grows ever more nebulous with each passing decade. What say you, my fine fuzzy shade?"
The batpony cocks her head, still regarding you with patent skepticism. "Propriety, eh?" she repeats slowly, as if tasting the word for any sour notes. Her beady yellow eyes rove over your form in a blatant onceover.
Despite your best efforts to keep your expression impassive, you can't quite resist the slight tugging of a smirk at the corners of your mouth. The guard's ears flatten infinitesimally as she notes your amusement.
"Look, sir… I don't want no trouble," she cautions in a low rumble. A leathery wing extends to indicate the plush interior of the chamber. "This whole wing is the personal quarters for the Princesses. I can't just let some strange biped go roamin' around unsupervised on Lady Luna's supposed say-so."
She snorts gruffly, nostrils flaring with disdain. For a few charged heartbeats, the two of you simply stand there in a silent clash of wills.
At last, the batpony gives a reluctant dip of her head. "Tell you what–you just stay put right here in this sitting room." She gestures again to the richly-appointed sitting area. Plush aubergine settees and tasseled poofs practically beg for lounging. "I'll send word to my superior that you're… a guest. Then we can get this whole misunderstanding sorted out proper-like."
The implied threat hangs in the air like a lead zeppelin as she arches one furry brow in challenge. It's clear the guard fully intends to keep you penned in like some exotic curiosity until the higher echelons can investigate.
You allow the smirk tugging at your lips to fully unfurl into a rakish grin. Beneath its cocksure veneer, however, prudent instincts niggle for caution. This batpony attendant clearly has her doubts about the veracity of your claims. Were you to push matters much further, it's safe to assume her skepticism might curdle into outright hostility.
Pivoting on your heel, you survey the lavish chamber with an air of studied nonchalance. Plush settees and tasseled ottomans festoon the space in rich jewel tones, all arranged facing an immense hearth carved from gleaming black marble veined with streaks of cosmic dust. The perfect staging for a royal audience, you muse. Or perhaps simply somewhere for Equestria's regal sovereigns to recline in opulent repose while receiving honored guests…
You shake your head minutely, batting away the errant thought. Best not get too bold, not this soon after your emotionally-charged reunion with dear Luna. No need to compound matters further by inviting the ire of her castle security detail, either.
"Very well," you acquiesce with a languid sweep of your hands. "I will await Lady Luna's confirmation here–for the sake of propriety's sanctity, you've naught to fear."
The batpony eyes you warily for a beat, clearly mulling whether to press her case. At last, she gives a curt nod and turns on one heel to exit the antechamber. No doubt she seeks to dispatch word of your mysterious presence to the higher echelons at once.
Left alone for the moment, you allow a soft exhalation of amused exasperation to whistle between your teeth. Oh, Stardust… Even a thousand years later, it seems your eternal kingdom remains as resplendent and headstrong as ever.
Chuckling under your breath, you saunter towards the hearth and lean one shoulder against the ornately-carved mantlepiece. Your wandering gaze inevitably settles upon the mural adorning the chamber's domed ceiling above.
Constellations and zodiac wheels spiral across that vaulted expanse, rendered in meticulous majolica tilework. The entire cosmic clockwork of the heavens has been captured in loving detail. You trace the familiar patterns and stellar allegories with your eyes, memories of your courtship's halcyon bloom flooding back unbidden…
A gentle summer breeze caresses the billowing drapes, setting them aflutter and allowing soft beams of afternoon light to cascade across the lavish sitting room. Princess Luna reclines amidst a nest of cushions in the middle, sleek midnight coat practically glowing in the sun's honeyed rays.
Her tail idly traces patterns along the lush carpeting as you emerge from behind a folding privacy screen, having changed into more court-appropriate attire. A dark purple doublet with golden inlaid buttons, a high, stuffy collar and cuffs, and leggings that definitely didn't leave you any room to… relax, so to speak.
Those beautiful wings extend in a languid stretch, ethereal tresses of her mane spilling across the pillows like rivulets of liquid starlight. "Hmm, thou lookest rather resplendent in those formal robes," Luna remarks in that rich, smoky alto of hers. A single winged brow arches appraisingly as she subjects you to an exaggerated once-over. "Though We must confess, a part of Us prefers thee attired in… rather less cumbersome accoutrements."
A warm flush prickles your cheeks at her brazen implication, despite your best efforts to maintain poise. The Princess's eyes positively smolder with mischievous intent as she notes your reaction.
"We… thanketh thee, princess," you intone, albeit a bit awkwardly. This 'royal we' dialect was certainly something you'd need to get used to; you weren't used to all this quite yet, despite having been cavorting with the two royal sisters since you were a youth. "Still, We believe this might be a bit… much, for us, though… unless that's the style of the dress?" you ask.
Unable to resist, she leans back into the plush cushions and gives her wings an airy flick. Those gemstone irises drink in the sight of you fidgeting and squirming in obvious discomfort at the overly formal raiment.
"Surely thou art merely experiencing sensations of… unfamiliarity with the dictates of courtly decorum?" she counters in a honeyed tone laced with gentle teasing. "Rest assured, We find the aesthetic most… becoming on thee."
Heat prickles across the back of your neck at those words, hinting at the playfully heated undercurrents swirling just beneath Luna's cultivated decorum. Flexing your hands at your sides, you can't quite repress the boyish urge to tug at your doublet's stiff collar.
"Well, if 'tis what the princess desire…eth?" you lilt up in a questioning of both the correct vernacular and the direct question to Luna herself. "Then We shall endure for thee." You make a point to do your best bow, but nearly stumble over as the stiffness of the outfit causes your balance to shift slightly. Luckily, you catch yourself with your hands before hitting the floor and ruining the raiment. "…But We will definitely be changing these out for more comfortable clothes as soon as court is finished," you chuckle.
Princess Luna's mane dances across her withers in gossamer waves as those hooded turquoise eyes appraise your flustered attempts at courtly decorum. A delicate smirk ghosts across her indigo lips, somehow both imperious and impish in the same instant.
"Worry not, beloved," she intones, vocals flowing like velvet across satin sheets. "We shall take exquisite delight in relieving thee of such… restrictive accoutrements once tonight's formalities reach their conclusion."
The tip of her tail traces a teasing spiral across the bedcovers, trailing ghostly afterimages. You swallow hard against the sudden tightness gripping your throat at Luna's utterly unsubtle implications. The Princess's smirk widens a fraction, betraying the hidden dimple in her cheek.
"For now, however," she continues. "'Twould behoove thee to affect a more… dignified mien befitting somepony of thy pending station."
With a subtle sweep of her wings, Luna rises from the rumpled bedding in a graceful, liquid motion. She steps towards you with the poise and regal bearing of… well, royalty itself, clad in cerulean flesh. Each feather-light hoof-fall seems to leave trailing coruscations of celestial energy winking across the plush carpet.
"Like so…" Luna murmurs, circling behind your rigid stance. The lightest brush of her wingtips against your shoulders prompts an involuntary shiver. You feel the Princess's warm exhalations stirring the fine hairs along the nape of your neck as she leans in with exaggerated ceremony. "Head upright, shoulders squared," she commands in a dulcet purr. "Project an aura of dignity and gravitas befitting thy soon-to-be royal station, beloved."
Despite the sheer absurdity of taking decorum lessons from a winged equine, you find yourself obeying Luna's instructions without a second thought. There's an undeniable mystique and presence to this immortal spirit you simply cannot resist…
That self-same patter of hoofsteps approaching breaks your reverie. You tilt your head just as Princess Luna emerges from a nearby archway in a swirl of cosmic star-mane. Upon catching sight of you lounging there, she draws up short–one slender wing instinctively flaring in mute surprise.
"Well now…" Her voice carries undisguised notes of bemusement. Keen cobalt eyes narrow as Luna takes in your casual repose amid the cushions of the sitting room. "Art thou already making free with Our private chambers on this hallowed eve?"
You straighten self-consciously, hands folding in your lap as you offer the regal alicorn a respectful nod. "Apologies, princess. 'Twas not my intent to encroach upon sanctuaries unbidden. These marvelous halls have a way of dredging up… memories, you could say."
A faint, rueful smile ghosts across your lips as you gesture idly towards the towering mural overhead. "So much of this cosmic grandeur rings with startling familiarity, despite the eons elapsed. I found myself… reminiscing upon cherished moments that feel simultaneously eons removed, yet as fresh as newly-spilled ink."
Princess Luna's chuckle rumbles in her throat like thunder on a summer eve. "Revisiting halcyon daydreams of courtship past, art thou?" she rejoins in that dulcet royal cadence of hers. "'Tis only natural, We suppose. The pangs of nostalgia strike even We who stand as immortal anchors amidst time's churning tides."
The regal alicorn prowls nearer on silent impetus, feathery wingtips trailing prismatic refractions in their wake. Luna casts you an inscrutable sidelong look from beneath one winged brow, coy smirk tugging at those lush indigo lips.
You hold your gaze for a brief moment, before looking away; all things considered, you've been wracking your brain in the background trying to figure out what her angle is. Why bring you here, of all places? Is she wishing to… rekindle old flames? Or simply chastise you one final time before throwing you in the dungeons for 'dereliction of duty'?
"I suppose… we're dancing around the true reason I'm here, then," you sigh, turning to face her as you lock your gaze with hers. "You said we have 'matters requiring further elucidation' and… well, after everything tonight, I figure it's best I'm an open book to you, Stardust."
You sit back on the cushions and rest your hands on your legs. "For the sake of wherever we end up after tonight… I hope these first steps bode well."
Princess Luna regards you for a prolonged heartbeat. Her terrible wings extend to their full cosmic span in an unconscious display of grandeur, ethereal mane swirling in gossamer eddies. Those turquoise irises blaze like newborn stars as she considers your plaintive confession.
"Ever the silver-tongued courtier, I see," she murmurs at length. Despite the Princess's arch tone, her words carry an undercurrent of wistful nostalgia. "'Open books' and 'first steps' proffered like well-rehearsed gambits across the jousting tilt."
Luna punctuates her wry observation with a negligent flick of her wings, delicate primaries trailing spectral afterimages. A few wayward pinions ruffle as the alicorn leans in closer, wings angling in a subtle beckoning sweep.
"Very well then," she declares in ringing Canterlot diction. "Since thou seem'st so avid to stride boldly forth down this particular conversational path, let Us oblige thy self-professed 'open book' philosophy post-haste."
The Princess comes to a measured halt before you, that terrible azure gaze searing straight through to your very essence. Constellations seem to swirl and eddy through those depthless cosmic pools, reflecting infinitudes both wondrous and utterly alien to mortal ken.
When next Luna speaks, her words emerge in a murmur so hushed it's almost conspiratorial. Yet they cut through the ambient stillness of the antechamber like blades of purest diamond:
"Why didst thou abandon Us that fateful eve one millennium past, beloved?" Her brow furrows as she awaits your response. "What drove thee to forsake our celestial union on the eve of its consummation?"
You draw a breath as the memory brings itself to the forefront of your mind. "In short, 'twas a fear of… leaving you behind, ironic as it may seem," you begin. "But that night…"
The full moon beams down in brilliant silver radiance, casting deep indigo shadows across the castle's sloping rooftops and turrets. You've been poring over these dusty old tomes and scrolls for hours, scouring every scrap of lore or hearsay about that fabled realm–Farasi. The land of the zebras and their mystic alchemies, rumored to hold the keys to transcending mortality itself.
A wry smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reach for yet another cracked, leather-bound folio. Immortality, eh? Just the sort of lofty aspiration fit for the consort-to-be of Equestria's own Princess of the Night. Your smile fades as quickly as it blossomed, however. After all, how could any mere mortal hope to stand eternal vigil by Luna's side across the eons?
Your quill scratches a few hasty notes about some archaic hieroglyphics mentioned in the text. At least you've pieced together enough clues to formulate a plan for reaching this 'Farasi Kingdom'. Now all that remains is… leaving everything behind to pursue it.
With a weary sigh, you cast your gaze towards the nearby writing desk. Laid out in pristine display rests a single sheet of parchment covered in your flowing calligraphy. The lengthy missive you've composed for Luna detailing your reasonings and your vows to return. You hesitate fractionally before rising from the small desk tucked away in this library alcove.
Time to stop delaying the inevitable, you tell yourself as you make your way across the hushed chamber. Each quiet footfall carries you inexorably closer to that heartfelt letter–and an irrevocable tomorrow filled with uncertainty.
The letter sits there upon the escritoire, an innocent-seeming parchment that belies the profundity of its contents. Its elegantly calligraphic script seems to mock you with each passing second, daring you to make your choice.
'Fare thee well, my radiant Moonbeam…'
The words practically burn into your retinas as you peruse those opening lines for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Is there any way to truly soften the blow of what you intend? To explain your reasonings in such a way that Luna might… understand?
You already know how your beloved shall react upon reading your 'bald-faced justifications' for abandoning her on the eve of your long-awaited nuptials. You can practically hear that earth-shaking thunderclap of her infamous 'Royal Voice' now…
"ANON, THOU INCORRIGIBLE WRETCH! What madness is this desertion?!"
But for the sake of your eternity alongside her, you must take this step. You can only hope that in the time between you securing the elixir of life and returning, those pangs of hurt will have healed and you both can continue onwards. A few years is but a blink of an eye to an immortal goddess, after all–surely she would understand sacrificing a small time for the sake of eternity. Ceremonies are… transient, fickle things anyway–just a small formality in the grand scheme of things. Your love is more than just a simple ceremony, and soon it will blossom unto the endless march, hand-in-hoof.
Your jaw clenches, hands curling into white-knuckled fists at your sides. Once more, you cast your eyes over those bittersweet opening lines through a sheen of unshed tears. Despite knowing that it's the right thing, you hate to put both of you through this…
"My luminous jewel, by the time thine eyes findeth these words, I shalt already be well on my path towards…"
"Somewhere, deep down, I knew that I was going to hurt you by doing what I did… but beloved, you must understand, I… I was not aware of all that would transpire in the wake of my absence," you turn your gaze up to meet hers once more. "I never intended my actions to cause you such anguish, my Stardust…"
Princess Luna's wings sweep out in an unconscious display of grandeur as she considers your plaintive confession. Those eyes–cosmic nebulae burning with the light of a million stars–remain utterly transfixed upon you. Her teeth worry at her lower lip for the span of several heartbeats while she processes your appeal to reason.
"Hurting Us was never thine intent?" she echoes at last, each syllable etched in acid skepticism. Luna's regal head angles in that distinctly equine manner, stars swirling through her mane in eddies of celestial light. "Thou findest a curious way of conveying such… devotions."
Despite the razored edges lingering in her tone, the Princess cannot completely mask a certain underlying reluctance to her words. As if some primal part of her very essence still yearns to trust in whatever cosmic mysteries you withhold.
Yet the rest of her remains guarded, wary–a wounded soul not so eager to expose its softer underbelly after being so savagely rent.
Luna's svelte navy withers sway in an almost serpentine motion as she steps a fraction closer. Those gemstone irises blaze with the light of reborn suns, searing past all facades and baring each secret recess of your soul to her cosmic scrutiny.
"What couldst possibly excuse such a grievous betrayal, sir?" she challenges, bitter undercurrents swirling beneath that sonorous alto. "After pledging thine heart and dedicating every facet of thy mortal existence to Our cause celestial?"
You swallow hard against the sudden aridity gripping your throat. Luna's words hit like the hammer-blows of an angry god, laying bare the sheer extent of your transgressions in stark, unvarnished truth. How to even begin chipping away at the vaults of resentment sealing her heart against you?
Still, the Princess does not turn away. Despite the brittle edges fraying her regal mask, Luna holds your gaze in silent challenge–daring you to unbridle the full breadth of your justifications in one indelible torrent.
You hold her gaze for but a moment. "Do you remember… when we discussed the fate of our would-be progeny, days before what would have been the ceremony?" you ask, plaintively holding her gaze for a few moments before looking down at your hands. "Do you remember what you told me?"
The words seem to hang in the air, lingering like the fading vapor trails of twin shooting stars racing across the celestial sphere. Princess Luna's mouth works silently for a heartbeat, as if chewing over their implications.
At last, her velvety lips part to deliver a rejoinder in that signature regally-cultured cadence. "We recall those… delicate ruminations, yes." Despite her poise, you detect the faintest hitch of hesitation lacing those syllables. "Though We must confess the… exact particulars elude Our mind's grasp at present."
One feathered wing angles outward in an inquisitive sweep, beckoning you to elaborate. The Princess's terrible eyes blaze like newborn suns, ancient and inscrutable. Behind them churns whole cosmic tides of emotion and wisdom far beyond your mortal ken.
Luna shifts infinitesimally closer, mane rippling in diaphanous auroras that cast her delicate features in soft, ever-shifting halos of opalescent light. A faint hint of mystery and challenge ghosts across those regal lineaments.
"In not so many words, my concerns were… dismissed, by you," you mutter. "Told simply to 'have patience'. I thought nothing of it at the time, but deep down…" you trail off. "Deep down, I believe that was the moment my decision was made."
You turn your gaze back up to hers and nearly lose yourself in those shimmering sapphire irises. "My only wish was to be your light everlasting, love… just as you were for me."
Princess Luna's azure orbs regard you sidelong, infinite depths swirling with eddies of mixed emotion. "Dismissed?" The regal mare's voice carries notes of bemusement tinged with a edge of challenge. "Nay, beloved, thou dost misremember the spirit of Our counsel that eve."
Her regal head cants to one side in a bemused equine gesture. The ebony curve of Luna's muzzle twitches almost imperceptibly as that quicksilver stare seems to drink in your very essence.
"'Twas not dismissal, but an appeal to faith that We imparted," the Princess clarifies in rich lunar tones. Each syllable seems to caress the air between you, ponderous and measured as the cosmic clockworks overhead.
"A love so profound as to tempt the fundamental boundaries sundering immortal from ephemeral…" Luna's feathery lashes dip slowly, and, when next her eyes open, those azure pools blaze with the fire of stellar furnaces long since burnt to cinders. "Such was thy fancied aspiration, was it not? To become Our… eternal companion in the grandest of all senses imaginable?"
A heartbeat of pulsing silence hangs thick between you. The Princess's mane undulates in hypnotic, diaphanous waves–as if the very cosmos themselves hold their breath awaiting your reply.
When you manage a hesitant nod of acquiescence, Luna exhales a single plume of breathy vapor. "Then it should come as no surprise that We harbored… certain reservations over the viability of thine ambitions."
She lapses into muted quiet once more, seeming to gather her thoughts. Despite her diminutive equine stature, the sheer presence radiating from her immortal spirit instills in you the distinct sensation of facing down something far more vast and unknowable than could ever be properly rendered in mere words.
"Even so…" the Princess breathes at last, turquoise gaze arrowing straight through your bravado to the primal core lurking beneath. "We should not have dismissed thy concerns over perpetuity so lightly, it seems. For in doing so, We laid the first paving stones down a road of bitter strife for us both."
You give a small, wistful sigh. "Thank you, princess. Still… all the same, it doesn't excuse what transpired. I should have been more forthright with my thoughts and worries from the beginning. Perhaps… things could have occurred differently."
Those final words seem to hang in the air like smoke trails from a cosmic flare. You watch, utterly transfixed, as Luna considers this latest appeal with patent intensity. Each rise and fall of her barrel carries those celestial mane-tresses undulating in hypnotic ripples. The seconds stretch into a taut infinity as those cobalt irises bore directly into your soul. Twin cosmic vortices swirling with alien mysteries and unfathomable emotions.
At long last, Luna breaks the spell with an imperious toss of her regal head. "Shouldst, couldst, wouldst…" she husks, vocals pitched in a conspiratorial murmur. "Empty words, beloved–hollow syllables like hollow bones in the wind."
A feathery wing angles outward in a negligent beckoning gesture. Luna leans closer, until you can taste the electric ozone tang of her cosmic presence crackling on the very air. "For what's done cannot be merely… undone," the Princess intones in somber tones brimming with ancient wisdom. "Betrayals and recriminations may come and go like the turnings of tide and moon."
She pauses, locking you in that fathomless azure gaze with laser-like intensity. "But across the indelible span of existence, only consequences remain to be endured in full…"
You give a rueful smile, closing your eyes. "I suppose not," you say, turning your gaze down to the ground. "So. I've laid out my reasonings and my regrets… I know there is naught I could do to undo the wound I carelessly carved upon your soul, yet… I feel compelled to ask what you would have us do, now that I'm here, whole and hale once again?" you ask, the question cutting through the tension in the air.
A hushed silence hangs in the air, thick as woodsmoke. Despite your plaintive plea, Princess Luna regards you through narrowed eyes–turquoise irises blazing brighter than binary stars at the height of their stellar furnace cycles. Those feathery wings give a minute tremble, pinions rustling with susurrations as she considers your words.
At long last, the regal alicorn draws in a slow, centering breath that seems to displace the very ether surrounding you both. Her starswept mane undulates and swirls in an otherworldly display of celestial grandeur, wisps of stardust trailing in Luna's wake like spectral afterimages.
"Consequences…" The Princess samples the word with exaggerated care, voice pitched in a throaty murmur. Something about her tone lends the simple utterance solemn, almost ritualistic weight–as if invoking ontological mysteries far beyond your mortal ken.
"Truly, thine inquiry lays bare the heart of all matters between us now, does it not?" Luna's terrible eyes glimmer with a searing intensity that freezes you in place like a basilisk's paralyzing stare. "What judgments shall We render upon thee in light of thy… retrospective regrets?"
She allows the implications of that question to linger between you for several pounding heartbeats. The ambient stillness in this opulent antechamber feels almost corporeal now–a living, breathing presence awaiting some divine word or edict from on high to set its celestial gears in inexorable motion once more.
At last, with ponderous languor, Luna half-turns and gestures towards the hearth's massive mantelpiece with one feathery wing extension. A silent entreaty to follow as she meanders in that direction.
The Princess angles her regal head just so, eyes glinting with a hint of challenge. "Come, beloved. Let us take this matter up in a setting more… befitting the gravitas of our reunion, hmm?"
Your jaw works wordlessly for a suspended heartbeat as you regard the statuesque Princess before you. What consequences might she have in mind, you wonder–eyes trailing over the lithe, equine frame swathed in ethereal grandeur.
Despite the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears, some stubborn core part of your spirit remains steadfast in the face of this immortal mare's grandeur. You swallow hard, forcing your gaze to hold hers in a steady, resolute lock.
With a measured nod, you rise from the plush settee to follow Luna's beckoning sweep towards the crackling hearth's flamelit tableau. The soft glow of the hearth's crackling flames casts flickering shadows across Luna's face as she pivots with regal poise to face you fully. Her starmane ripples in diaphanous waves, tinged with opalescent hues by the dancing firelight.
"Let us be plain in this audience between paramours divided across a millennium's gulf," the Princess intones, her keen stare lancing straight through to your core. Despite the intimacy of her throaty murmurs, that clarion voice rings with the full grandeur and command of the cosmos itself given equine shape.
"Thou hast spoken true of thine errant quest into the desert kingdoms beyond," Luna rumbles. "And in so doing, returned to lay plain both thy… rationales and lamentations for abandoning Us upon that darkest of eves."
She pauses fractionally, feathery lashes dipping in that unconscious equine gesture of consideration. When next those gemstone irises blaze open, their cosmic depths glimmer with keen preternatural discernment.
"Yet We must still grapple with the maelstrom of ramifications wrought by thy self-same selfish ambitions…" The Princess lapses into thoughtful quiet for a pointed beat. Out of the corner of your eye, you note the hearth's roaring flames seeming to intensify and swell–growing brighter, more vibrant in direct correlation to Luna's mounting intensity.
"For whilst thou hast ostensibly secured eternity in liquid form," she adds at last, inclining her head towards the satchel resting at your side. "The indelible path of consequences leading to this reunion can no more be erased than the waning of the moon itself halted in its celestial tracks."
Her feathered wings extend fractionally, trailing gossamer auroras that hint at unknowable cosmic forces held in celestial check. Luna's voice remains pitched in hushed, conspiratorial undertones–yet it resonates with a soul-deep timbre that belies her equine frame's diminutive stature.
"We speak naught of empty chastisements nor airy pronouncements," she continues in that dark, silken murmur. Each syllable seems to shimmer with the ponderous weight of eons' worth of ancient wisdom. "But of the indelible burdens shaped from thy deeds of old."
The Princess steps nearer, wings reaching outward in an unconscious beckoning gesture. "…Which thou must needs learn to shoulder thine own self."
You kneel down upon one knee to lower to her eye level. "Whatever it takes to make things right… my Stardust."
Princess Luna remains silent for several aching heartbeats. Those depthless azure irises seem to lay bare each secret recess of your soul to their burning cosmic scrutiny. Then, at long last, she speaks in hushed yet resonant tones:
"Thou wishest to bear these… indelible burdens forged from thy misdeeds so readily?" A slight furrow creases the slender bridge of her muzzle as her feathered wings give an agitated twitch. "So be it, rash one. Though We must solemnly caution–the consequences of thy abdication once visited upon Our realm yet linger in ways mortal imaginings cannot fathom."
The words emerge hushed, almost conspiratorial–yet they resonate with the sort of cosmic gravitas that makes your very marrow ache. Luna's mane swirls with cosmic energies, stray tendrils of celestial light trailing in her wake like celestial contrails. She fixes you with a searing look from beneath lowered lashes, irises blazing brighter than binary stars.
"No matter thy perceived devotions, O prodigal spark, thou must bear witness to the entirety of thy unmaking's aftermath," the Princess decrees, pitching her resonant alto to carry the full gravity of her proclamation. "Only then shall We allow contemplations on potential… recompenses."
You nod solemnly, breathing out a sigh you didn't know you were holding. "I've been running from my responsibilities for a long time, beloved," you begin. "If what it takes to heal from this is to face the demons of our shared past, then so be it. I'll not shy away this time, love." You give her a small, wistful smile. "I will prove to you that I've grown since then… and I'll be the faithful consort that you deserved all those centuries ago."
Princess Luna eyes you with solemn intensity, her terrible wings extending to their full celestial span. Those depthless azure irises seem to lay bare the indelible tapestry of your very soul, penetrating through mortal facades to the cosmic essence burning at your core.
"We shall hold thee to those vows, beloved," she rumbles at last, each syllable reverberating with the ancient cadences of creation's first breath. "For the path ahead shall not be simple–nor swiftly trodden by feeble constitutions."
Luna steps closer, feathery wingtips trailing shimmering afterimages of celestial fire in their wake. Despite her diminutive stature, an aura of profound, nigh-unfathomable presence radiates off the petite Princess in waves of psychic pressure. You cannot resist squaring your shoulders, steeling your spirit against the almost corporeal force of her grandeur.
"Rest now, whilst thou can," the alicorn murmurs in a conspiratorial burr, tossing her regal head towards the chamber's arched egress. "On the morrow, We shall begin thine… initiation into the full breadth of consequence wrought by the devastation thou hath inflicted."
Luna's words seem to echo off the vaulted chamber walls, underpinned by subtle distortions and eddies of cosmic energy that lend them metaphysical gravitas. You taste the effervescent tang of celestial ozone crackling across your tongue as she speaks. "Guards! Escort Our prodigal flame to the east wing's guest quarters. Let him repose this eve as Our patience allows."
Two of the Princess's thestral night guards emerge from the shadows in a flutter of leathery wings, dipping their furred heads in obsequious bows. "At once, Your Majesty," the larger of the pair–you recognize him as the one from earlier that called the princess away to the night court–rumbles in a voice like gravel crunching underfoot.
"Until tomorrow then, Your Highness," you bow your head respectfully, and for a hesitant moment you feel the compulsion to reach forward to embrace her, but you hold it back. Standing once more, you regard her a final time with a nod, before leaving to follow the two batpony guards through the halls.
The batponies flank you in silence as you make your way through Canterlot Castle's labyrinthine corridors. Your eyes roam over every surface in quiet awe, drinking in details both hauntingly familiar yet subtly askew. As you pass beneath a soaring archway, the same thestral guard from earlier clears his throat in a gruff baritone rumble. "This way, sir. The east wing residential quarter lies just ahead."
You nod your acquiescence, unable to resist casting one final glance over your shoulder. Your gaze inevitably settles upon the frescoed mural adorning the ceiling's vaulted dome in that antechamber. Despite Princess Luna's rather… fraught declarations, some tiny flicker of optimism refuses to be utterly extinguished within your spirit.
After all, she heard you out. She chose not to simply unmake you where you knelt before her cosmic grandeur. And while the future remains shrouded in unfathomable mysteries, that briefest audience seemed to crack her eternal veneer of dispassionate animosity, if only for a few heartbeats. Call it foolish, but that tiny spark of… something kindles the smallest ember of hope that not all is lost between you after this bitter millennium of partings.
Up ahead, the broad double doors leading into the royal guest wing loom like monolithic sentinels. One of the batponies reaches out to shove them open with a casual sweep of his brawny shoulders, the ancient timber creaking softly inwards. A plush, burgundy-toned antechamber lies beyond, ringed with archways branching off to various suites and salon chambers.
"Here we are," rumbles the grizzled guard. He gestures with an idle wing-sweep towards the rightmost aperture framed by delicate cornices. "Your guest accommodations await, sir."
You pass through the imposing double doors into the opulent residential wing, marveling inwardly at the sheer grandeur surrounding you on all sides. Rich burgundy velour spans the walls, delicately embroidered with glittering celestial iconographies rendered in silver threadwork. Despite their ornate beauty, the geometric star charts and nebulous constellations appear somehow… alive, glimmering and shifting hypnotically in your peripheral vision as if illuminated by some unseen celestial radiance.
Overhead, an arched rotunda in the ceiling soars to dizzying heights–an entire firmament of malachite and lapis lazuli tile work depicting the heavens in exacting splendor.
Not for the first time in this fateful reunion, you're struck by the sobering realization that you–a mere mortal–stand at the umbral heart of a goddess's sanctum. Every opulent fixture and celestial flourish utterly foreign yet achingly familiar in ways that instill a peculiar nostalgic resonance deep within your soul.
One of the batponies snaps you from your musings with an impatient throat-clearing. You glance over to find the winged guard regarding you with one arched brow and a droll expression. He nods towards the indicated suite archway with an idle wing-flick. "In here, sir."
"Ah, right–sorry." Squaring your shoulders beneath that gimlet stare, you stride into the adjacent antechamber with all the poise and dignity you can muster. Torchlight dances across lavish furnishings upholstered in rich damask silks. Supple leather-bound tomes and celestial globes line the surrounding shelves. Despite its grandeur, the suite radiates an ageless and surprisingly inviting warmth–no doubt enhanced by the crackling hearth nestled into one corner.
You make your way across the plush wool carpeting, taking in the luxurious trappings with a wistful pang of reminiscence. The delicate, familiar fragrance of lavender perfumes the air, infused with subtle undercurrents of smoldering embers and… something else?
Turning back to the two batpony guards, you give a polite nod and smile. "Thank you both; I'll be fine for now. Return to your duties, sirs."
The thestral guards exchange a brief look. After a beat, the larger of the two simply grunts and inclines his head in a subtle nod. "Rest well then, sir. Should you require anything, the night staff shall be making their rounds."
With a whisper of leathery wing-membranes, the pair of batponies turn and exit the guest suite, leaving you alone at last. You take a moment to simply…breathe. Drink in the ambiance of this lavish yet hauntingly familiar setting.
The hearth's dancing flames cast wavering shadows across the plush upholstery and polished woodwork. That heady lavender fragrance seems to grow more pronounced, whispering of long-forgotten intimacies and indulgent nights spent reveling in sensual delights.
Despite your weariness after this emotional crucible of an evening, you cannot quite shake a lingering sense of static tension thrumming beneath your skin. As if the very air in this opulent chamber remains charged with unresolved energy in the wake of your heated reunion with Princess Luna.
You shake your head, trying to dislodge the thought. No sense dwelling on the unknown until you've had a chance to decompress, yes? You let out a long, steadying exhalation and make your way towards one of the nearby divans.
Utterly spent, you sink into the sumptuous, royal blue upholstery. The crackling fire warms your body, but cannot Quite soothe the lingering tension humming beneath your skin. Despite your Weariness, your mind keeps circling back to the passion burning in Luna's eyes as she leveled that soul-searing gaze upon you.
You shudder involuntarily, Images of her terrible cosmic grandeur flickering behind your eyelids like an afterimage seared onto your psyche. That ghostly caress of celestial power rolling off the Night Princess in waves of sublime force... truly, it's a miracle you remained upright before such preternatural majesty.
Yet amidst the vortex of turmoil churning within those fathomless sapphire orbs, you fancied catching hints of something... softer. More vulnerable, even. As if Luna's scorching indignation was but the outermost shell concealing primal embers of longing never truly extinguished.
You exhale a ragged breath, muscles gradually unwinding as you sink deeper into the plush cushions. Despite your jangling nerves, you cannot deny the undercurrent of heady nostalgia woven through this opulent guest suite. Every quivering shadow thrown by the hearth's firelight conjures reminiscences of tangled sheets and satin caresses amidst rumpled bedding. Of feathers and starry tresses spilling across silken pillows in reverent disarray.
These lavish chambers drip with the same saccharine indulgences that once defined your courtship's most indulgently intimate throes. Idly, you wonder if this is... some subtle test orchestrated by Luna? Some sly cosmic gambit to torment you with wistful remembrances of love's most feverishly blissful consummations?
Surely not. Your lunar beloved would not be so... petty as to subject you to such torturous mementos simply for her own amusement? And yet, your subconscious churns with unsettling speculations about just what "initiation" into the "aftermath" of your past sins the Princess has in store for you come the morrow.
You let out a shuddering sigh, struggling to center yourself amidst the riptides of memory and trepidation pulling at your convictions. Soldiering forward, you shuck your boots and outer layers until clad only in soft linens. The plush bedcovers beckon with the promise of at least a temporary reprieve from this evening's turbulence.
Settling beneath the velveteen sheets, you cannot resist breathing deep of their exquisite fragrance. Some deep, irrational corner of your spirit fancies the warmth and comforting aroma as a subtle overture from your erstwhile paramour herself.
A plaintive smile plays across your lips. If only that were so, you cannot help but think wistfully. With a bone-weary sigh, you close your eyes and endeavor to quiet the tempest of warring emotions churning through your being. The Princess has promised a new world of consequence awaiting on the morrow. Best to find what solace you can in dreams while their reverie still lingers...
You watch the human slouch away into the dimly-lit castle halls, guided by your batpony sentries. A flicker of… something, ghosts across your breast. Regret? Longing? Your ethereal mane swirls and eddies with myriad unspoken implications.
For now, tranquil solitude envelops the opulent antechamber once more. The hearth's embers cast wavering halos across the vaulted fresco overhead–entire galaxies captured in exquisite mosaic tilework twisting in the fickle firelight.
A bitter revelation unfurls within your breast, inescapable as a black hole's event horizon: All along, despite the expanse of eons, you have been inexorably drawn back into that singularity's umbral pull. Your antepenultimate betrayer's gravity well.
Of course, you expected as much from this reunion's first tremors. Yet even your timeless spirit reels at the revelations delivered so candidly by that cocksure human whelp. His audacious presumption to transcend the cosmic boundaries dividing immortal and ephemeral chafes against your regal bearing. How DARE he strive for such lofty, forbidden ambitions? To gift himself the spark of eternity itself… what divine hubris motivates such arrogance?
And yet, you muse with a dour twist of your muzzle, those professed aspirations… do align with the core of virtues you once extolled in him. Loyalty. Dedication. An ardor bordering on rapturous zealotry. All traits sorely lacking in your past courtiers and their empty pretensions of noblesse.
Your wings unfurl in a graceful, unconscious sweep as you pivot to appraise the chamber's ornately carved mantelpiece. Indeed, something resonates within your ancient spirit at the recollection of Anon's seething intensity. Those furnace-stoked passions that so fervently courted your affections across every long-forgotten battlefield and hallowed dance.
Despite all sense and propriety, you cannot deny a perverse… curiosity burns within your breast. A spark of fascination over what grandiose cosmic machinations your paramour of old wove to achieve his professed transcendence. Alchemy and desert-spanning quests, hmm? Perhaps you shall be able to pry such mysteries from his mortal shell yet…
