Luna trotted down the hallway.
Well, perhaps “trotted” wasn’t exactly the right word. “Bounced” would certainly fit better.
Indeed, it seemed as if the carpet beneath her hooves could be made entirely of springs. Her every step bounced energetically, propelling her quickly towards her destination.
Bobbing up and down in the air before Luna’s muzzle was a small chest, made of dark oak. The Princess’s eyes were fixed on it, only occasionally snapping up to check the way before her.
She didn’t need to pay much attention to her path, however. This wing of the Canterlot castle wasn’t often populated and today certainly was not an exception. She’d only passed three other ponies so far, all royal guards, and all they had to offer the Princess was a quick bow of acknowledgment.
These days, a happily-trotting Luna, such as she was now, was a common sight.
Especially at this time of day.
The sun was just barely beginning it’s descent, leaving the sky splashed with the faintest sheen of gold. The pale light filtered through the tall windows of the palace, casting soft, gray shadows on the crimson carpeting. Streaks of clouds were spattered over the blue-gold dome, like an artist who’d been careless with their brush. The downy white mounds were outlined in vibrant yellow, a yellow that would darken to orange and then scarlet as the sun grew lower.
Indeed, it was the perfect start to a peaceful evening. An evening Luna would certainly enjoy.
After all, she always enjoyed talking to Sombra.
It’d been months since the Equestrian monarchs’ first visit to the Crystal Empire. The few days they’d spent in the foreign kingdom were deeply ingrained in Luna’s memory as a magical time, full of light and laughter. Since then, Luna and Sombra had made every opportunity to talk—it didn’t happen as often as they would’ve liked, but often enough for them to learn much more about each other.
Luna had discovered that Sombra was a fan of art as well. Barely a meet passed where they didn’t find themselves lost in a conversation over complexity in literary characters, or a discussion of the more abstract form of art that was taking hold of Equestria’s artists.
Luna felt as if she finally had somepony who understood every part of her, who she could speak freely around. Sombra never told her she was being ridiculous or that she was wrong.
It was…a foreign experience to her.
The Princess finally reached her room, tucked far away from the main section of the castle, just as she preferred. She threw open the sleek ebony doors, then shut them quickly behind her; trotting into the overly-fancy first room—one only set up to impress others, if they ever happened to stumble across her private chambers.
Luna trotted to the room beyond, her bedchamber.
This one was much sparser than the one before. Her bed was nothing more than a large couch—made so by her own request—so unlike the heavy four-poster of her sister. The frame of the bed was coal-black in color, shaped like a half-moon. Her sheets were dark blue, silken pillows pale lilac in color, and they were accompanied by a threadbare stuffed animal or two—precious artifacts from the Princess’s foalhood, and a clear indication of her more childish side.
The floor was dark wood, decorated only by a blue ombre rug at her bedside. The walls were painted icy, bluish-white, like the reflection of moonlight off water. But the color could barely be seen, as it was liberally coated with canvas after canvas, from floor to ceiling, all around the room—only caving to make way for the tall windows, of course.
The paintings were all different—some were large enough to come to Luna’s shoulders, but others were barely half the size. Some were dark in color—mountains in the rain, midnight landscapes, and the such—but even more were vibrantly colored, like a field of flowers in the sunlight. One or two were abstract, taking off the style that was quickly growing popular, but a vast majority of them were clear and easy to understand.
A half-painted canvas sat next to the window, it’s sunset-tinted colors beginning to match those from outside as the sun continued it’s inevitable descent behind the horizon.
Luna placed the wooden chest she’d been carrying at the foot of the bed, flipping open it’s worn lid. Four small, unassuming purple stones lay at the bottom, glinting in the light. Luna levitated them out, placing them on a bedside table, in the shape of a small square.
As soon as she placed them so, a flash of purple light ignited between the stones, shooting upwards a few inches to form a flat screen of fuzzy purple.
“Hello?” A static-filled voice crackled out from the square screen, “Luna?”
“I’m here, Sombra,” Luna squinted at the light, trying to discern anything from the blurred projection. “Can you hear me? I can’t see you.”
“You’re coming in loud and clear,” Sombra said. “Ugh. Curse these newfangled spells. I can never figure out how to get them to work.”
“You sound like my sister.” the Princess stifled a giggle.
“I can’t tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not,” Sombra said, his voice amused.
“Have you tried disabling the spell, then enabling it again?” Luna asked. “That usually works.”
A loud, high-pitched blip emanated from the magical screen, making her wince and flatten her ears against her head. Then the crackles of static faded, replaced by Sombra’s voice again.
“There. Did that fix it?”
“Sort of,” Luna squinted at the projection. The streaks of blurry purple had faded, showing something beyond, as if looking through a window. The Princess could see the edge of a table, as well as a blue crystal wall. “I can see part of a room, but not you.”
“Sorry. Hold on a second.” There was a brief cackle, and the scene shifted, making Luna slightly dizzy. But then Sombra appeared on the screen, a smile on his face. “There—can you see me now?”
“Yes!” Luna waved a hoof, returning his smile. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad.” Sombra chuckled, taking a seat on some unseen piece of furniture. “I had to attend a council today, and all they talked about was the ‘proper’ price of oats. I nearly died from boredom.”
“It does sound dreadfully dull,” Luna agreed, giving a small giggle.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Sombra rolled his eyes. “Dear Quillfeather didn’t even try to make it look as if he was paying attention. He spent the entire time fast asleep in his chair.”
Quillfeather was Sombra’s closest—and oldest—advisor. He’d served during the previous King’s time, and had been his closest friend.
Apparently, he was remarkably old now—nearly a hundred years of age. According to Sombra, his wits were beginning to grow dull, but Sombra was too close to him to let him go.
“If only everyone could be that unashamed,” Luna said. Sombra snorted a laugh of agreement.
“How about you?” The King asked. “How are you faring?”
“I’m fine,” Luna responded, giving a small shrug. “I woke up at around midday, and attended a small lunch with my sister, who was able to pull herself away from her duties to spend some time with me. I read a few more chapters from Haykespeare’s Haymlet—oh, that reminds me! Have you had time to pursue Poneo and Juliet, like I suggested?”
“As a matter of fact, I finished it,” Sombra informed her.
“What did you think?” Luna gave a tiny hop of excitement. “The ending was so beautifully tragic, wasn’t it?”
“It certainly was,” Sombra agreed. “And I enjoyed the play, for the most part. I did find some parts of it slightly frustrating, however…for instance, the recklessness of the two young lovers.”
“Recklessness?” Luna questioned, raising both eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, yes,” Sombra said. “They rushed headlong into a secret marriage, trying to force the hooves of their parents. They were both young, and had plenty of their lives left to work for peace in a situation that was complicated at the least, considering all the bad blood in between.”
“But don’t you think that their parents would have been more interested in peace knowing that their children were married?” Luna pointed out, settling into a comfortable position on her bed.
“They never tried to tell them, though,” Sombra reminded her.
“When would they have had an opportunity?” Luna asked.
“For one, the time when Poneo was attacked by Juliet’s cousin,” Sombra said. “If he’d just admitted his marriage to Juliet, perhaps Tybalt would have been less reluctant to duel him, and Poneo could have saved the lives of both his friend and Juliet’s cousin.”
“Maybe he was afraid,” the Princess countered. “Perhaps he thought it would be better if he waited till a moment when the mood was right, and the revelation was more likely to be accepted.”
“There’ll never be a wrong time to tell the truth,” Sombra argued. “It was always come out eventually, no matter what, so there’s no point in delaying it.”
“But what if the listener is not ready to hear it?” Luna asked. “Then it might not be the right time. If they’re not ready to accept it and it will cause more suffering, it’s more prudent to wait till a better moment. After all, aren’t some secrets are too beautiful to be shared right away?
“I, personally, believe that the romance between the two was sweet and touching—most especially at the end, when they showed the depths of their love in clear unwillingness to live without each other. And after all, their deaths did bring peace between the families—the peace that they’d hoped for.”
“But unbearable tragedy was the price,” Sombra argued. “In contrast to the proper quote, the ends really don’t justify the means. Actually, if you think about it, in the end the story isn’t about love after all. Love was simply a way for Hakespeare to deliver to us his real message—'Ponykind, look at what your senseless feuds and intrigues do to your own lives. Imagine how beautiful it would've been if the two families weren't murderously opposed to each other. Do you really want to be like them?'”
“With that mindset, the message is a good reminder to those in positions of power to be concerned about the welfare of everypony, rather than their own personal desires,” Luna realized. “If a leader chooses to act according to petty differences…it can cause widespread suffering.”
“Excellent observation.” Sombra gave a nod. A small smile crossed his face. “You know, you didn’t strike me as one to apply something from a work of fiction such as this to politics.”
“I didn’t strike me as one like that either.” Luna admitted, giving a faint giggle. “It just kind of…came to mind.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Did you paint that?” Sombra changed the subject, pointing a hoof at something behind Luna. The Princess turned, catching sight of the half-finished painting sitting in the light of the dying sun.
“Oh! Yes.” She flushed slightly with embarrassment—though she didn’t know why, Sombra wasn’t going to criticize her on it.
But…nopony had ever seen one of her unfinished paintings so far.
Or…any of her paintings in general.
“It’s incredible!” Sombra said, his eyes wide with amazement.
“T-thank you!” Luna stuttered, now blushing not from embarrassment, but from the compliment. “It’s not quite finished yet, I’m afraid. I’ve requested the same weather for every evening, till the end of this week…I must say, having Cloudsdale is quite useful.”
“I wish the Empire had something like that.” Sombra sighed. “Though I don’t suppose there is currently a force known to ponykind that could tame the winds of the frozen north. Actually, the weather within the Crystal Heart’s magical borders is largely controlled by the Heart itself.”
“Really?” Luna said, surprised. “I didn’t know you could control weather with the Heart.”
“Neither did we, till recently.” Sombra chuckled.
“The Heart really is fascinating.” Luna gave a small, wistful sigh. “And the Empire itself is simply wonderful…I wish I’d had more time when I was there last.”
“I wish the same,” Sombra echoed her sigh.
There was another brief second of silence.
“I wish you were here,” Sombra said quietly.
“I wish I was there too,” Luna admitted.
“I’m so tired of only seeing you through this blurry screen…” The King said. “I wish there was some way to simply…teleport you to the Empire.”
“That’d be amazing!” Luna agreed. “If there was just some way to convince my sister to make another journey…
“Well, even if she did agree, it would take simply forever to organize the trip. All these ridiculous ‘diplomatic’ things that have to happen first.”
“It would all be worth the effort if we could just see each other again, face to face,” Sombra insisted. Luna gave a shy smile, glancing down to hide the blush on her face.
“I’ll bring it up with my sister at the nearest opportune moment,” She said. “In the meantime…I suppose we must make do with this spell.”
“It’s really not the same.” Sombra sighed. “But…it’s better than nothing.” He gave Luna a smile.
A loud knock broke the comfortable silence, making Luna jump—and judging by the crackles of static that accompanied the sound, it came from Sombra’s side.
“Enter,” he said. “Who is it?”
There was a slow creak, then a respectful voice spoke up, so quiet Luna had to strain her ears to hear it.
“Your majesty,” the voice said. “You have another appointment in approximately ten minutes.”
“Oh, blast.” Sombra sighed, turning back to Luna. “I forgot. I absolutely detest cutting our meeting short, but…I have another council to attend.” He rolled his eyes, apparently not caring about the other pony now watching them converse. “It’s most likely about oats again.”
“Try not to die from boredom.” Luna giggled.
“I shall do my best.” Sombra gave her a rueful smile. “Till next time!” He offered a wave as he blinked out of sight, and the light faded away, disappearing into the stones.
Luna stared at them for a few seconds, lost in thought.
Maybe it was worth a try after all. She hoped she could convince Celestia to make another visit to the Crystal Empire…
It would be lovely to see Sombra face-to-face again.