//------------------------------//
// The Same Three Notes 
// Story: Clair de Lune 
// by SPark 
//------------------------------//

Lune sat beside Celestia in the royal box as the concert hall began to fill. His mind wasn't really on the coming performance. He was thinking about what would happen tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day when the spell would finally be cast, and the illusion he'd lived with for so long would become a reality.
He felt a little bit nervous. Even though the unicorns casting it would be the best casters in the nation. Even though they'd be overseen by Celestia herself. Even though as an immortal, his morphic field was even less likely to fray and snap than that of an ordinary pony, the thought of that million in one possibility still made him nervous.
And there was always a flicker of fear, that despite how everypony had accepted him, somehow some of them might not, once it was real and not illusion. Would Twilight really still love him? Would Celestia? Would he still feel so at home, once it was truly flesh and blood and not magic alone that shaped the body that seemed so right?

The lights dimmed, and Lune directed his attention to the stage as all around him ponies fell silent, preparing to listen. A single piano stood there, with a unicorn pianist before it. He lifted his head, horn lighting, and began.

Three clear notes dropped into the stillness, crystalline and perfect, like drops of water into a still pond. Slowly, hesitantly, more notes followed, each one perfect, gentle sound building towards a crescendo note by note, chord by chord. It felt beautiful: as peaceful and melancholy as a moonlit night. It made him think of his foalhood, of serene nights beneath a moon that he had only just begun to know. Then the notes began to come faster, a flurry of dark minor notes like a sudden storm. The mood became tense, the storm growing. Lune found himself holding his breath as deep, crashing chords poured forth from the piano. They built with chaotic majesty to a single moment of sudden peace, a moment of realization crystallized out of the chaos that had come before. Now rippling, soft, liquid notes filled the air with gentle waves of sound, each one once again ringing with crystalline perfection. They rose and fell, building and retreating, like drops of warm rain. Then, finally, those same three notes sounded again, repeating in soft, endless variations, all different, yet all still the same three notes, spinning finally, peacefully, out into silence.

Ponies burst into applause, stomping their hooves against the concert hall's floor. Lune applauded too. It had been beautiful.

Celestia leaned over and spoke softly in his ear. "That song is called Clair de Lune. I asked them to play it in your honor tonight."

Lune's breath caught. "'Twas perfect," he said. "Thank you, sister."

She spread one wing over him and hugged him gently. "You're welcome, brother."

As the next performer took the stage Lune leaned against Celestia, all his nervousness and fear gone. The song had been perfect. Tonight was perfect, and tomorrow would be perfect too.