After his humiliating and hilarious defeat, Gosling found that he needed a little air, so he relocated himself to a private balcony where the public was not allowed to venture. The gelid air had a terrific bite to it; it stung the eyes, burned the tender places, and left pin-prickles in the lungs. Something about the cold helped to clear his head, sharpen his senses, and gave him clarity. This was a night to remember and he wanted to commit every little detail to memory.
Though it was too soon to tell, he was pretty certain that he had made everypony happy—he had fulfilled his purpose, his very reason for existence, and he wondered if that was the source of the almost drunken feeling that he had right now. He had brought happiness to many, a great many lives had been forever touched by his actions and the ripple effects of what he had done were unimaginable.
But now—just like after having too much wine—he wanted only to clear his head.
He thought about Purple Party and how he had made an ally from an antagonist. This… this was an occasion where he had learned to throw his weight around in what was sure to be the right way, the proper way. He had demanded results, settled upon an outcome, and then strived to that end, allowing no one to impede his progress. It felt good—real good and he began to wonder what his next big project might be, because a prince should have projects. Celestia had made that clear, but she hadn’t given him a list or any recommendations. He alone was responsible for the creation of purposeful projects.
“There you are.”
With his eyes focused upon the twinkling lights of Canterlot, Gosling did not turn to look at Cadance as she approached. After a moment, she stood at the rail with him, her face dark, flushed with excitement, and she had a rather sweaty, disheveled look about her. Gosling was certain that he looked the same.
“You made this possible,” said Gosling to Cadance whilst she wiped her cheek with one wing. “I was just thinking about what I made possible to others, but now that you’re here, I see how this all goes back to you. Impressive, Cadance.”
“I saw potential. Something to work with. You made this possible, Gosling, by seeking out help. In therapy, great potential was seen within you. Just something for you to think about, Gosling.”
It was a lot to think about. During a broken moment of his life, he had reached out for help. At the time, he was ashamed to do so, because there was a stigma in asking for help, in being weak, and seeking out therapy made one the object of ridicule. Because he had dared to defy stigma and social norms, he was now in a position where not only had he received help, but he was helping others. A simple twist of fate. When taken in as a whole, all of it was perplexing.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Gosling, what a strange question. Of course we are.”
“Rivalries do bad things to pegasus ponies,” he said, explaining himself and his reasoning.
“I can’t think of a better pony to be rivals with,” she replied.
“It’s good to hear you say that, because I plan to help more ponies than you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll need it.”
“We’ll see, Princess Busybody.”
She snorted, laughed, and slipped one wing over Gosling’s back. Together they stood, looking down upon the lights of Canterlot, the very best of rivals. It was the best sort of rivalry, Gosling felt, because no matter who won, ‘twas the public who benefited. But he was going to need Cadance, because he already had plans. Yes, he had plans—but no real idea of how to go forward with them.
“What are we going to do about Mother Hen?” Cadance asked, her whisper low, secretive, and conspiratorial. “She crushed us without even trying. If we ever hope to beat her, we’ll need to step up our game.”
“I don’t think she can be beaten,” he replied.
“Pfft, you only say that because she’s old, immortal, and unconquerable. You and I, we’re young and stupid. That gives us an advantage. We’re too inexperienced and dumb to know that she can’t be beaten.”
Something about that logic pained Gosling’s mind and he cast a side-eye at Cadance.
“Practice every chance you get, Gosling, and I’ll do the same. Never give up on the dream. How’d she do that, anyhow? That thing with her wings… I think the old nag cheated and I’m a bit miffed about that. Yes… she clearly used alicorn displays. When next this happens, we’ll have to hold her to the rules and publicly shame her if she cheats. And she cheats, Gosling, make no mistake. That mare cheats same as you and I breathe. She’s the cheatingest cheater that ever did cheat.”
That couldn’t even be argued and he nodded.
“She even cheats at checkers. Trust me, I know. She hates to lose, Gosling.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure that Equestria continues to exist as a nation because of her cheating—”
“That’s no excuse!” Cadance stomped a hoof against the stone floor and all of her feathers ruffled. “But you do make an excellent point. In the future, Gosling, when we face off again, I’ll stick to pegasus displays. No magic, no illusion, no cheating. You and I, we’ll be honest rivals. Deal?”
“Deal.”
A third pony joined them on the balcony and she steamed like a lake in winter. Luna had a maniac grin and a lunatic gleam in her eyes as she approached the rail and came to stand beside Gosling. Lifting her wing, Cadance covered both of them, with Gosling now sandwiched in the middle. Below, the lights continued to twinkle. Ruling Canterlot meant keeping the lights on, if only because they were so beautiful to look at.
“You two have unfinished business to look after,” said Cadance in a matter-of-fact way. “This night is all about Luna’s return and restoration. Gosling, you have a job to do, so I’m going to leave you to it. I’m going to find Shining Armor and ask him how many times Celestia has beaten him at checkers.”
“She cheats,” Luna said, her voice quavering.
“We know,” Cadance responded.
“We do too,” Luna confessed. “Try being the little sister of that mountebank.”
Upon hearing this, Cadance’s eyes narrowed in a dangerous way, but after a few seconds of vivid pink pony intensity, she laughed. Luna too, laughed, but Gosling was silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t find this funny—he did—he just had no idea what a mountebank was and hadn’t heard the word before.
“Well, Gosling, have fun exploring the Moon and watch out which crater you go poking about in.” Laughing at her own joke, Cadance pulled away and folded her wing against her side. “Best of luck, both of you, and I wish you both the very best. I’ll be going now.”
Before Gosling could reply, Cadance vanished, and he was all alone with Luna.
Upon entering her aerie, Luna wasted no time and uncorked some wine. An inferno raged in the fireplace and Gosling couldn’t tell if it was real or not. As Luna set the bottle down, she shed her illusion and became herself, which helped put him at ease, but he was still nervous. Performance anxiety was a terrible thing to labour beneath, and he hated it even as he enjoyed the challenge.
“I’m having second thoughts,” Luna said while the bottle of wine hovered near her muzzle. Her hooves scraped against the stone as she turned around to face Gosling and her sweaty face was full of warm concern. “What you’re doing is appreciated, but I am not sure that I want to help you compromise your own values. It is beautiful, in a way, how you chase after meaning and virtue. It’s also rather annoying, but I do find it endearing, regardless.”
At a loss for words, Gosling didn’t know what to say, and he hadn’t expected this. He watched as she drank from the bottle and thought about kisses made sweet with wine. She was beautiful, in the way that fillies his own age could be beautiful, though he could not say how or why it was. It was a sort of vulnerable beauty that came with pimples and imperfections, but this vulnerability also made it desirable. Feeling a growing lump in his throat, he swallowed.
“Look at you… all virtuous and courtly. You strive for meaning with every breath you take. I’ve seen thousands of your kind die on the battlefield, and almost all of them said my name as their last dying utterance. But you… there’s something different about you. You’re earnest about all of this. It’s not an act or a ploy or something you do in public while engaging in reprehensible activities in private. And so here you are, come to do your duty, willing to sacrifice your ideals so I can have a bit of sweaty fun.”
“We made a bargain,” he said, feeling the need to defend his actions, “and I’m keeping my end of it. As your husband, it’s about time I look after you as my wife.” These words didn’t quite come out as he had hoped, and he cringed, wishing he had said something better.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that somepony came here to get laid—”
“Don’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Don’t ever question my integrity. I’m fine with your jokes, your teasing, and everything else, but don’t you ever slight my integrity. I’ll not stand for it.”
For a moment, Luna’s eyes flashed with anger, but then her expression softened and with a nod, she apologised. “You’re right. There’s that earnestness I was just talking about. I’m sorry, it was meant in fun. I was trying to lighten the mood.” Her ears pinned back in a rare display of submission and the bottle of wine trembled in the glittery blue glow of her magic. “For others in this situation, I would suspect their motivations to be born of lust even as their lips fall back on words of virtue. But not you. I was wrong to impune your honour, even in jest.”
Though still irked, Gosling could not help but feel mollified by Luna’s words. No doubt, she was using her eons of experience in diplomacy against him, brandishing it about like a sword, but that was okay. That was allowed. He chose to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe in her sincerity, because she believed in his.
“I don’t know what to make of you,” Luna whispered while she approached. “You’re quite unlike any other pony I’ve ever known. At times, you’ve annoyed me with your churlishness, but then you do things that impress me. I am not a pony that is easily swayed or impressed by much, and I think you know this, so you must also know that this is not base flattery or appeasement.”
For a pony who wanted physicality, Luna sure was talkative. She made no attempt to look him in the eye, no, she had dropped all pretense of propriety and was now eyeballing him with unabashed, naked desire. Her eyes went everywhere, in every direction, no doubt drinking in every detail, every speckle, every freckle, everything he had to offer that might be considered a feast to the eyes.
“I won’t do this to you,” she said, her voice thin and reedy. “This feels wrong. Immoral, somehow. As if I would be betraying a valued, loyal servant.”
“Let me save you,” he responded, falling back on a language that he knew that she understood. “I’m no great warrior, but I can save you from loneliness. That’s a dragon I can wrestle.”
“You’ve saved me from more than loneliness. You fail to give yourself credit.”
Confused, he gave her a blank stare, not comprehending.
“The darkness elemental…” Her words were pained and spoken through trembling lips pulled tight against her teeth with fear. “The only logical explanation that I have for that outcome must be your love for me. A love I’m not sure that I deserve. Tonight, I tried to coerce you so that my own selfish whims might be satisfied. And I almost went through with it, but my conscience raised its voice. It’s all because of tonight, Gosling.”
He blinked, not understanding, and before he could respond, Luna was already speaking, offering an explanation.
“Tonight, there was a moment… this feeling of happiness that I had not felt for so long. Since before the shadow took hold of my heart. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it had to be you and your influence. But as the night went on, as I saw the joy in my subjects, as I saw their merrymaking, my own happiness could not be denied. I felt the laughter again, and no small portion. For a time, I was as I was back then, before the shadow darkened my heart and cast doubt upon all I see. I felt a glimmer of this during my first Nightmare Night celebration, thanks to Twilight’s efforts, but tonight, it was a flood. And even if we do nothing, I want to be with you. Stay with me till the sunrise, Gosling.”
It was Luna’s turn to be wordy, so he chose the silent approach: he nodded.
“I like counting stars… and speckles. I would be more intimate and familiar with your speckles, if you would allow it.” Luna’s eyes darted in the direction of her bed and then zipped back to Gosling, though the angle of her eyes suggested that she was checking out his chest scruffle. After licking her lips, she took a long pull from her bottle of wine.
“Tonight, I had a lovely time. I felt like a princess again… not in my ability to lord over others and to rule them with bold commands… but to be worshipped and adored… to be loved by all... how it was before she shadow overcame me and poisoned my mind, heart, and soul. I want to be better, Gosling. I wish for things to be as they once were. If you wish to save me, make me whole once more. Give me equilibrium with my sister. Love us with equal passion, for We are One.”
That was a tall order, but he was confident that he could do that. He’d already started down the path. He understood—he understood and could act accordingly. It was just a matter of making them both happy in equal measure, and he could do that. He was born to do that. Purpose stretched before him and stretched beyond the horizon that he understood, leaving him with but one dreadful question that he dared not voice.
If he gave the sisters equilibrium, what would happen after he was gone?
Hours later…
These poor little ponies had partied themselves right into the ground, or the floor in this circumstance. It was now the third hour and like a pale white phantom, Celestia wandered the darkened ballroom, mindful not to step on any of her sleeping subjects. They slept in piles, some of them, while others slept in pairs, but not a one slept alone. It was a little cold in here, but that wasn’t so bad, because it made them cling to one another for warmth. Faint snores could be heard, among other somewhat more unmentionable sounds.
Come morning, there would be epic hangovers and a few ponies who might be surprised that they had wed. Celestia wished the best for them, even those who would suffer Surprised Nuptial Shock Syndrome. While she wandered through the room, she picked up glasses and other potentially sharp or dangerous things that might be trod upon by hungover, unaware ponies. She carefully removed the things that might hurt them, thinking that in this one instance, no real harm could be done by coddling them.
Celestia found the missing pony she was looking for and was forced to bite her lip so that she would not laugh. Twilight had vanished at some point during the night and the guard reported that she was not in her room. The reason why Twilight wasn’t in her room was because she was in the library, secure and secluded in a haphazardly constructed book fort. Clearly, Twilight had imbibed a little too much, and would no doubt scream come morning when she saw the shoddy book fort she had constructed.
It was tempting, to fix the book fort, to nudge everything into place until it met Twilight’s exacting standards, but what would be the fun in that? Impish mischievousness could be seen on Celestia’s face while she peered through the poorly constructed doorway at her former student. She was confident that the best parts of Twilight, the most delightful parts of her former student, these things would never change. Celestia wanted to see Twilight succeed, and she had, but there was a compelling desire to see more.
The idea of Twilight as a mother tickled Celestia to no end, because she had seen how Twilight was with Spike. Twilight as a mother would build book forts and would go on magical imaginative adventures. Of course, Twilight as a princess was equally satisfying and Celestia could live with that… if she had to. Eyes almost unblinking, she watched as her former student’s barrel rose and fell with each steady, shallow breath.
She wanted great things for Twilight, good things, a life full of challenges and rewards.
Overcome with inquisitive desire, Celestia crept up the long staircase that led to Luna’s aerie. She had to know. She had to know. Gosling had vanished from the party and had been sorely missed. Now, with dawn but a few hours away, Celestia had to know if things had worked out, if the deed had been done. Would Gosling back out? He might. The virtue-minded pegasus sought meaning in everything, including sex, something that was a cause for annoyance at times.
Luna might also back out. Celestia wondered if her sister might have second thoughts about despoiling Gosling’s moral virtue. Already, Celestia found herself second guessing herself and wondering if her advice to Gosling might have been a mistake. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, telling him to relax a little, to loosen up, to curb his need to find emotional meaning, but now, now she was having second thoughts. It felt right at the time, it did, really, but now? Now, in the darkest hours of the night, the hours just before dawn?
Everything felt wrong, no doubt due to some strange magic that the night possessed, the worrisome source of irritation that kept ponies up at all hours of the night, sleepless in their own beds, worried about things that they could not control, if they had said the right thing, if they had turned off the stove, and if they had secured the deadbolt before going to bed. It was a dreadful magic, so it was, and if she ever found the source of it, the cause of it, she would give it such a zapping.
Sneaking up the stairs, Celestia’s hooves made not a sound, nor did any other part of her. Maybe Luna and Gosling were talking—talking would be good. Those two had a lot to sort out. They were flinty against one another; Luna brought out Gosling’s aggression and Gosling, for his part, wasn’t afraid to give Luna the chewing out she sometimes so rightfully deserved. In short, they were good for one another, perhaps even perfect for one another if Cadance was to be believed, but getting them to lower their defenses and play nice with one another was the real trick.
As for her own relationship with Gosling, that was easy. It was easy to love Gosling, without reservation or complication. No doubt, Cadance had planned it that way, the sneaky pink little minx. Why, she and Gosling almost mirrored one another in all of the ways that mattered, with their shared gregarious personalities and jovial approaches to life. But as Celestia had problems with Luna, so too did Gosling, for many of the same reasons. Cadance had helpfully pointed this out long after Celestia had become aware of it herself.
Almost at Luna’s door, she paused, near frozen by the scent that tickled her nostrils. Vanilla, rich and strong, perfumed the air, leaving it sweet and fragrant. Oh. The cloying unmistakable scent left no reason to knock upon Luna’s door. With the overpowering scent came a flood of emotion, relief mostly, and joy, so much joy, but also fear, worry, and doubt.
Overcome, she leaned against the wall and when the first hitches of her barrel wracked her body, she almost cried with relief. More than anything, she wanted Luna’s loneliness and isolation to end—and with the musky scent of vanilla on the air, it had. Even though she had silenced herself with a spell to make not a sound, she still bit her lip to choke back sobs and to keep them from escaping.
The worst—and to Celestia, the most dreadful—aspect of Nightmare Moon’s dark taint were well on their way to being defeated, dispelled, stricken away. Luna would learn to love and trust again. Maybe she would forgive herself for past mistakes and dreadful actions. She had taken the most difficult, the most strenuous step, and was allowing herself to be loved again. Almost weeping, Celestia retreated from the door and knew that the sun would rise once more for her sister.
Backing down the stairs, somehow graceful in her emotional, overwrought state, Celestia cast a final glance at Luna’s door, which was now blurry and out of focus. The relief was overwhelming, overpowering, it went to the head like too much fine wine and stupefied all of Celestia’s senses. It was like tearing away a scab and letting the infection drain out.
The long, endless night was over, and the dawn would prove glorious.