Luna stepped quietly out on the balcony and stood still for a moment, gazing down at the shadowed gardens of Canterlot. A few ponies were still moving among the hedges, hurrying to the warmth of their fires and tables and halls in the setting sun. Two flashes of white simultaneously caught her attention, and she turned her head slightly toward her approaching sister, making sure to keep an eye still on the other.
“Good evening, Celestia,” she said quietly.
“Good evening, Luna.” Celestia moved up beside her and stood looking at the distance bushes with her. “What are you looking at?”
She gestured with a slight tilt of her horn. “Blueblood.”
“Ah.” Celestia followed her gaze. “I - “
“He calls you ‘Auntie,’” she interrupted.
“Well, yes. He is - a nephew many times removed.”
“Nephews are the sons of a sister,” Luna remarked.
She felt a puddle of warmth wash over her as Celestia put a wing over her shoulder. “Are you asking... about Silverblood?”
Luna shivered beneath her sister’s wing. “Yes,” she murmured. “I - He is the one thing I never forgot.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, before Celestia bent her head down to Luna’s ear and whispered, softly, “Yes.”
The silence lingered, waiting.
Finally, Luna snorted faintly, laughing. “Where did the line go wrong?” she chuckled. “Blueblood’s arrogance is… astonishing. How would he react, you think, to knowing he is descended from a pair of Gypsies?”
Celestia laughed too, tucking her wing back to her side. “Silverblood’s humility, I’m afraid, did not last more than a few generations before one of his grandsons realised that they were the only noble house with a claim of blood to me. He was the first to name his son Blueblood. Do not completely undermine Blueblood,” she added. “Arrogant he may be, but he is a skilled negotiator. That is how he got his cutie mark.”
Luna frowned, wrinkling her brow. “A compass? How so?”
“It points the way to successful compromise, of course,” Celestia winked at her, and Luna burst out laughing.
When her chuckles had subsided, she gazed out over the gardens once more. Blueblood had gone, and now only a few gardeners were left roaming the rows.
“How did he die?” she asked quietly.
“Well,” Celestia told her. “He was distraught by your… transformation, but believed every day that you would one day be restored.”
Luna flicked her ears, lowered her head and scraped a hoof along the balcony stones. “I guess he was right,” she said softly. “I only wish he’d been here to see it.”
Celestia nuzzled her one last time, and turned towards the door. “He lives on, sister,” she said, her voice echoing faintly as she walked away. “He lives on.”
And Luna stood on the balcony, illuminated in the light of the setting, and raised the moon.