//------------------------------// // The Dancer // Story: Moonsong // by That One Guy //------------------------------// The clouds were parted, the winds were soft, and the grasshoppers cast their serenade across the moonlit hills like a soft blanket. The world was warm, and still, and if one were to hold a hoof to their chest they would feel the hearts of all the sleeping ponies across the land, beating in tandem, a gentle dance that flowed like a stream. It was on nights like these that Luna chose to fly. The Princess of the Night flew swift across her kingdom, her very presence cutting through the darkest of dreams and scattering the nightmares of her sleeping subjects to the far winds. Nopony would be aware of her, none would fully understand how the fear would drain from behind their eyes and give way to a restful peace, but this mattered little to the Princess. It was her duty, and it was only she that could cast the shadows from behind sleeping eyes. It was only she that could pull the threads of dreams and shield them from harm. It was only she that could cast the nightmares from the ground and banish them to the skies above, where they held no power over the ponies below. And it was only she that could bring forth the moon, majestic and true, across the night sky. It was the duty, and the honor, of the Princess to protect her night, and in that she found her peace. She looked down upon her subjects, loyal and genuine even when deep beneath their covers in the shelter of their homes, and felt pride. In the day, she may have felt alone, even cast in the shadow of those that shone heroic to the people, but at night she was everything. But at night, she was free. And so the princess twirled and spun and her joy brought rest to the land, with the moon trailing behind her, a steadfast beacon of the night. In that moment, it was warm, and harmonious, and the shimmering landscape illuminated by the soft blue glow was beautiful beyond compare. Until, in an instant, it stopped. It was small, almost unnoticeably so. In the great woven quilt descending from Luna onto the land, it could scarcely register as a snag - a rough length of wool that caught at the endless weave. To countless artisans it would have been nothing, an extra pull, a touch of effort to bring the pattern back to order, an idle resolution to scarcely the smallest problem. But for the night, it was enough. From beyond the mountains, a brisk chill whisked across the land like the shudder of a slumbering giant. Brief, forgotten in the grand scope of time, but there. The grasshoppers paused their song, a wisp of a cloud adorned the sky, and the slumbering ponies pulled their blankets the smallest bit tighter around themselves. And the moon came to a stop. Luna felt it in her heart - a hitch, a knot, a feeling of helplessness that she had long since believed gone. And so she pulled free of the quilt and veered off towards the call that echoed through her soul, wings flapping against the silent sky and eyes wide as she searched for that small bit of resistance that caused her pause. Her lips were pursed and the stars reflected in her eyes. She needed to find her. She flew like an arrow, her wings cutting through the heavens and parting the sky around her, as though the very night was propelling the princess towards her destination. She could feel it, ever-present, in the pit of her stomach. A snarl, a thicket, a snag that made her less than she was. It took her less than a minute to find her. She loved the night. She was young, scarcely more than a foal, and behind her eyes the stars shone and sang, filling her with a warmth that tickled through her, from the tips of her ears all the way down to the flats of her hooves. She had gone outside like this before, beneath the sprawling sky and the breathtaking moon, but it was different on that night. Something about the silence in the air was crisp, as though it was waiting for her to act, to dream, to become more than she was. The filly swallowed, and something inside her struggled to break free. A note, a chorus, a wordless song that could capture how she felt, how she loved the silence of the night, how she appreciated the time when everything could rest and the world stood still. She had tried to sing so many times before, but it had never felt right. Her voice would catch, or fall, or twist in a way that made her lower her head and fall silent. Some ponies had encouraged her, some had made fun of her, but most simply looked on. She had never been anything more than another filly. But the night was open, and quiet, and it awaited her performance with hushed tones and an encouraging glow. And she felt okay. So she sung. Bright and true, crisp and jovial, pure and raw. She could feel her voice emerging, and it was stronger than she could have ever imagined. She saw the pale light bow to her as though she was the guest of honor at a ball. She heard the grasshoppers come together in a brilliant echo of her song. She felt her heart beat with the dreams of ponykind, a steady rhythm that flowed through her veins and shone out resonant and grand in every note. A tear fell to the ground, and another, and another, and she was happy. She was whole. And with her song, the moon once again began to dance across the sky. Luna dropped towards the ground, a sudden faintness catching at her chest. Wings flaring, she found balance enough to touch upon the grass below before collapsing to her side. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. All of it. The weight of the stars. The power of the moon. The nightmares, the dreams, the heartbeats, the wind, the night. All gone. And Luna felt the grass on her cheek. Heard the bubbling of a nearby creek. Things that seemed so small before that seemed suddenly so large and beyond her. She looked up, and saw the stars twinkling. The leaves rustling. The moon moving. And the night was vibrant, and resonant, and true. Her shoulders relaxed, and she felt everything around her, and nothing more than that. A weight that she didn't know she had been carrying had been lifted. A single breath left her, and in that moment she was free. So she stood, pushed back the feeling tugging at her throat, and began to gallop towards the clearing where she knew she'd find her. The Princess of the Night dropped to the ground, a sudden faintness catching at her chest. Wings flaring, she found balance enough to bring her hooves to the ground. A shudder ran through her, urging her to stop, to collapse. She pressed onward, past a thicket of trees, and she saw the leaves on them move in the wind, dancing to a silent song that was not her own. She needed to fix this. She passed by a lake, and in it reflected the moon, inching across the traitorous sky. She needed to take back what was being taken from her. She stepped into the clearing, and saw the filly. Her eyes were closed, and from them dropped porcelain tears. Her voice rang out into the night, and on her flank was the moon, adorned with a single musical note. The Princess of the Night looked at her, and in soul she felt something deep, something crawling, something that envied the dance of the moon and stars and leaves and grass and hearts and wanted, needed, it back. The filly saw her, and for a brief moment the song stopped. She just looked at the princess, and gave her a smile. Her new mark shimmered, reflecting the stars in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell, and she extended a hoof, as if to introduce herself, to use her new voice, to share the gifts she had found within herself. And in that moment, the Princess of the Night leveled her horn, locked eyes with the filly, and snuffed out her song. The princess turned away from the filly, stretched her wings, and left. The filly lay in the clearing, and looked up to the sky. She felt a light breeze pass over the land, but she didn't feel cold. And so she smiled up at the moon as the light faded from her eyes. Luna stepped into the clearing, and her breath caught in her throat. It was her. She may have had wings and a different mane and a different story but it was her. And the filly danced. And when she danced, the stars spun and the grasshoppers leaped and the leaves in the trees rustled and the hearts of the ponies beat in time. As she flowed across the ground the quilt that Luna had left in the sky began to weave into patterns that were wonderful and beautiful and new. Her eyes were closed and the rhythm of her hooves on the cool grass set the tempo to the dance of the night. And she was crying. The filly was crying, and Luna was crying. Perhaps for the same reason, perhaps for reasons that were worlds apart. Luna didn't know, but she wanted to have the chance to. To speak, to apologize, to make amends, to give the filly anything and everything but nothing came. Nothing could come. All she could do was stand there, caught in the moonlight shining from the filly, taking in the beauty that she had been so blind to, all those years ago. And then the filly stopped, and looked at Luna. She froze. A thousand years, a million different things she wanted to say, countless ways things could have gone differently. She felt everything again, the guilt, the anger, the pain, the power ebbing and flowing back through her veins, the hopelessness encompassing her mind, everything. The two looked at each other for what seemed like a lifetime, before the filly let a wide smile reach her lips. And without a word, the filly began to dance anew. Luna felt the power flow out of her once more, borrowed but not gone. A quaking began in her throat, and before she could stop them, hot rivulets of tears began to stream down past her cheeks. She looked up, and for perhaps the first time, saw the beauty of the night sky, wild and free, dancing to the song that could never be silenced. And far above, cast in the light of a thousands hearts in tune, the moon moved across the sky, whole once more.