Luna curls into a ball on her bed, staring down at the pool of moonlight that she had collected. Celestia's face is reflected in it as she addresses the Canterlot Elite at the Nightmare Night Masquerade.
"In honor of the great services my beloved sister has done Equestria, I hereby declare this eve to be no longer Nightmare Night, but Luna's Eve, an evening to celebrate all she has done!" Celestia declares, to weak applause from the residents. Luna smiles at her sister's latest attempt to make Luna more included in Equestrian life. Only two weeks ago had she set up a special court just for her sister to preside over, and a few weeks before that Celestia had launched a nationwide campaign to have all school books which have the legend of Nightmare Night in them burned, and for new ones with Luna's return replace them.
'It's all very kind, but I'm still curled up in my bed chambers', Luna thought wryly to herself. She could not bring herself to leave, could not bring herself to face pony kind and expect them to forgive her as her sister seemed to.
"Careful, if you stay lost in thought long enough you'll lose your way back down here," a mischievous voice said into her ear.
Long ago, Luna might have jumped, startled, over this, but now a grin unfurled on her face as she turned to face the white stallion on her bed. He was a barely recognizable Fancy Pants, his monocle gone, his suit unbuttoned and tie loose. His hair had lost its usual gel and was like a brilliant blue flame.
"Now how could I get lost when I have you to weigh me back down to Equestria?" she teases him lightly. "So, Mr. Pants, how did you get in?"
Fancy Pants grinned. This was perhaps the favorite of the games he played. "Why, you must guess, princess."
In a matter of seconds, Luna's well-trained eyes raked over the entire room, noticing every minute detail. She had the room in perfect order memorized, and could spot every small detail, every flaw, including the two misplaced books on the bookshelf on the east wall. Luna immediately levitates the books off the shelf, before levitating all of the books along the bookshelf away, looking to see if there was some sort of secret passageway behind it.
"Not your strongest, my dear princess," Fancy Pants said softly. It was the first time that he had been able to fool Luna. "You immediately went for the red herring I placed in the books, too preoccupied to notice that there is still residual magic on the doorknob, and that you could hear the creak of the door opening only moments ago."
Luna drops the pile of books and turns to Fancy Pants. At first, her expression is hardened as she purses her lips and glares at him, hating how easily he had manipulated her. Yet, after a moment, she lets her mask crumble down, and allows a giggle at her own foolishness.
"Very clever of you, Mr. Pants," Luna says tightly, not wanting to show too much emotion. "Since you won the entry game, you may choose the next one. What would you like to play?"
Fancy Pants considers her words for a moment, a proud smirk never leaving his face.
“Have you ever played hide and seek, princess?” Fancy Pants asks.
Luna’s eyes narrow in further annoyance.
“You mean the foals and fillies game?” she says.
“Why yes, I find that as an adult, there is greater joy in playing it,” Fancy Pants says. “I will hide, you will seek. I have sixty seconds to hide, you have sixty seconds to seek. You can use any skill at your disposal to do so. I will not leave the perimeters of this room. Does that sound fair?”
“Why are we playing this?” Luna asks, a resigned tone in her voice.
“Just play along. I did win the entrance game after all.”
Luna sighs and lets Fancy Pants conjure a simple blindfold and tie it around her eyes. She counts loudly, feeling quite idiotic and foalish as she listens for Fancy Pants hoofsteps. Once the sixty seconds are up, she tears off the blindfold and looks around the room.
At first glance, it appeared there was no change in the room, as if Fancy Pants had never been there. It briefly occurred to Luna that he might have fled, but she could not fathom a reason why and pushed these unsavory thoughts out of her head.
Luna’s bedchamber was grandiose, with an enormous closet and dresser, as well as several chests in which she kept her things from the ancient world. The enormous bed took up the central third of the room. Luna lifted the bed, her sharp eyes examining the floor. As she lifted the bed, she could feel external magic pulling against hers, and set it down.
The sheets of Luna’s bed were weaved from moonlight itself, powerful magic bringing it into solidified form. With a simple spell the moonlight was cast away, revealing Fancy Pants curled up inside it, his white coat blending in excellently. He lay splayed across the bed, grinning childishly.
“Why, it seems I have been bested, princess,” he sees, not sounding particularly bothered by this. “Care to join me?”
Luna’s entire body stiffens at the prospect of lying in the same bed as another pony. Her eyes narrow once more at Fancy Pants’ insolence, but greater curiosity and desire overcomes her, and she climbs into the bed, sitting as far away from him as possible. She was grateful the bed was so large. As she sits, she summons the moonlight streaming in through the window, manipulating it into solid form before placing it on the bed as sheets once more. The moonlight conforms to their bodies, hiding their bodies from the flank down.
“Why so far away, princess?”
Fancy Pants inches slightly closer to Luna.
“Do not test me,” she says, jaw locked. “I am only here because this is my bed and, despite my best efforts for the past year, I have been unable to force you to leave my premises; well, without resorting to measures my sister would not approve of.”
“I didn’t realize I was such a burden, princess,” Fancy Pants says, amusement dripping from his tone. “I rather thought you enjoyed our time together. I have seen the look of triumphant glee whenever you best me in our little games.”
“They are but childish fancies, and the joy of triumph and the crush of defeat is a fancy also. Fancies, in nature, are fleeting, and the overwhelming feeling remains the same,” Luna says. “You are a Fancy in your own right, Mr. Pants. Perhaps your parents were not so foolish in naming after all.”
“Ever the eloquent one, princess,” Fancy Pants says, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Yet your eloquence in speech does not disguise your lack of true understanding. Is it not fancy, fleeting or true, that sustains ponykind? We cannot live on unhappiness, we must take solace in our own fancies. And when they flee, we must find new ones, or else we shall sink into despair.”
“I would rather be sustained on love, strong and true, rather than fancies. If I was built on fancy, I might just float away, for there would be nothing holding me down to earth,” Luna retorts. “I am surprised you haven’t simply risen up on a hot day, going higher and higher until you crash into my sister’s beloved sun.”
Fancy Pants lets out a light chuckle.
“Perhaps spending time with you has been weighing me down enough to stay firmly planted here.”
“That would certainly explain why you feel the need to creatively break into my room every evening.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I would not be able to break in unless you let me. I do know that you have called off your night guards so they will not attack me. I pay attention to the castle gossip.”
A pregnant pause.
“You are insolent, Fancy Pants.”
The white stallion glances over at Luna and offers her a genuine smile, one of the few he had ever given.
“And yet, this is why you enjoy my company. The thrill of a challenger,” he murmurs.
“You do not challenge me.”
Luna turns away haughtily, her undulating mane brushing against Fancy Pants’ face.
“Then how is it that I win our little games?”
“On occasion.”
Fancy Pants laughs.
“Princess, you have told me your opinions on music, on art, on fiction. On nature and society.” As he says these words his horn levitates the wine bottle, and he pours red wine into a couple of glasses, one floating towards Luna, the other for himself. He takes a sip. “Yet, we have never discussed poetry.”
“I abhor it,” Luna says. She takes a sip from her wine glass.
“So if we were to have a poetry contest, I would win,” Fancy Pants says, winking.
“We are not having a poetry contest. Poetry is yet another foolish fancy. Any poet can better express themselves in normal, rational words. Poetry is for the weak of mind.”
“So you are simply not good at it.”
Luna drains her wine glass.
“Do not test me, Mr. Pants,” she repeats, glaring at him.
She trots in beauty, like the night
Of starry skies and cloudless climes
“Have you heard that one, princess?” Fancy Pants asks. “I do not know if there is a better way to phrase those words.”
“Merely speaking of a mare’s beauty is an insult to her,” Luna snarls.
“Perhaps to a mare like you,” Fancy Pants says. “Perhaps I should try an original composition.”
“I hardly think that anything you have composed would convince me of poetry’s worth. A pony should be able to express herself using rational thought.”
My love is moonlight
Streaming through the window
Casting its shy gaze
Upon the empty bed
My love is sunlight
Brilliant in its sight
Great in its scope
Air and life itself pausing
To soak in her warmth
My love is candle light
Gently flickering
Against a stack of well worn books
On my bedside table
Comforting me through the night
Laughing at my inability
To sleep without it
My love is fire’s light
An eruption of sights and sounds
Fierce in nature
Powerful in destruction
Unable to be extinguished
By any fool or foal
My love is starlight
Bright eyes twinkling
With mischief and wit
A constant shimmer
Destroying darkness
Letting love shine through
Luna opens her eyes.
There was a long pause.
“That poem was...passable.”
Fancy Pants laughs.