The months passed with surprising normalcy for Silver and Memory, for all that they involved ponies and friendship and magic. No more Vows, no more Galas, just work, work, work.
Mondays through Fridays, Silver and Memory took advanced classes at Celestia's School.
Mondays and Fridays, Silver taught pegasus magic at Cloudsdale (horn appropriately hidden with an enchanted sweatband).
Memory quickly became frustrated by her performance in his 'flying' classes. Silver wasn't too surprised. His lessons took, as he once said to Twilight, actual thought, and Memory was still new to that. She was a fast learner, but not quite the best at creative problem solving just yet. She was excellent at understanding things after the fact, after they had been explained to her. She was a better classroom student than anybody or pony Silver knew, except maybe Twilight Sparkle.
But independent study? Searching for the answer herself, even if it was extremely obscure? Even if the answer had never been found before? Even if she had no step-by-step guides? Memory still needed practice in that department.
And practice she would get, for on the weekends, Mr. Tome's 'you do not get to progress until you figure it out for yourself' rule reigned supreme. Silver did not explicitly explain to Memory that they were allowed to ask for hints if they were stuck. He did ask Professor Riddle for a hint while Memory was in earshot, since she was excellent at learning from example.
Late January was when they had acquired their human forms. That procedure had been explicitly explained to them and so it took only a few weeks. What wasn't explained was the purpose of ambidexterity (for the start of Memory's wandless lessons), or the purpose of casting/incanting as slowly/quickly/loudly/quietly as possible (for the continuation of Silver's lessons).
In February, Silver launched his first successful Legilimency probe and Memory learned to detect Legilimency intrusion (performed by pegasus, not thestral). Because of course when Mr. Tome wasn't being their mysterious old wizard, he was teaching them the basics. It said everything you needed to know about him that he thought Occlumency and Legilimency and resisting the Imperius qualified as 'the basics'. And he wasn't far off. You shouldn't go around learning anything truly important if you couldn't protect those lessons from theft.
In March, Silver tried to make a bit more progress on the stone. After reading through the sixth-year charms textbook (which Mr. Tome had brought along with his collection of muggle texts), Silver asked if the Philosopher's stone made the duplication charm permanent, then asked if that's how Mr. Book had acquired an infinite supply of his own blood to experiment with the animagus potion. Professor Riddle confirmed that the stone made Gemino duplications permanent. He confirmed it by word of mouth, not by immediately testing the hypothesis, meaning he wasn't telling his mentor anything the thestral hadn't already figured out for himself. But the Gemino charm cannot duplicate living things, or parts of living things, according to Professor Riddle. A ritual had been used to multiply the originally tiny sample of human blood, and that's what was made permanent.
Silver had a few other ritual suggestions too. In particular, he'd thought of some candidates for the 'sacrifice a magical animal to gain its powers' ritual. They were good suggestions too, the kind that made Mr. Tome say that they were good out loud and applaud his ingenuity for discovering yet another potential way to acquire immortality. But ever since the incident with Hermione's human form gaining an aura of innocence and purity, Professor Riddle has been hesitant to use that ritual without knowing what will happen for certain. Anything more powerful than a troll wouldn't be 'safe', and his suggestion was way more powerful.
So it was back to his usual, ridiculously-high-standard lessons.
In early April, Memory put up her first successful Occlumency barrier and Silver taught her the True Patronus Charm later that month, the very moment she became competent enough to block Veritaserum. At the end of April, Professor Riddle declared Silver a true Perfect Occlumens "after eight whole months. I trust Ms. Memory shall not take that long."
In May, the Canterlot School year ended and so did Mr. Silver's second round of pegasus magic lessons. He'd taught significantly more pegasi than the first time. He wondered how big his third class would be if he was still here after June. Princess Luna's display of revealing herself as a student all along should do wonders on that front.
But in the end, the pony humanmagi didn't make much progress on any of the fronts that mattered.
Mr. Tome wasn't letting them experiment with and/or attempt to duplicate the stone. Mr. Tome's happiness lessons were a seeming non-starter. Attempts to find out if Quirinus Quirrell was trapped with them (in pony form, in Equestria, or even in the same universe) utterly failed. You needed to know someone to send a Patronus message to them, and neither Harry Potter nor Hermione Granger had ever met the real Quirinus Quirrell. And since Mr. Tome wasn't going to ask the princesses for help, it felt like another dead end.
Most importantly of all, their collective efforts at escaping the mirror relied on Mr. Tome's exclusive access to a private royal library. According to him, it's about 80% exhausted of leads, so it wasn't all bad news. Just slow news.
Silver and Memory were getting stronger in the meantime... but that was accompanied by a growing sense of hollowness. If they didn't get back to the human world soon, Memory and Silver would be well beyond the age range of the Hogwarts first-years they'd been when they were trapped. They're almost too old already.
Silver had thought that they would be here for a year at most. Silver's Inner Dumbledore expected this side quest to end on the night of the Summer Sun Celebration, because that's when it began and that's how stories went. He even prepared for it.
As Summer Sun approached, he wrapped up his affairs. He asked Flight Formation to continue the class if something ever happened to him. He opened an account in Canterlot's oldest and most prestigious bank (with a bit of royal influence to allow a colt to do such a thing) and deposited all of his money with a small amount of interest that would compound over time. Memory suggested they say their goodbyes, but he told her they had to make sure the 'goodbyes' weren't obvious. If they stayed trapped, no harm no foul.
But if they escaped, there would be no regrets. The side quest would be complete with a high score and a gold star for completion. No, make that a silver star. He didn't accomplish all his wishes. On that note, maybe he should only earn a bronze star. From a purely practical standpoint, the wish he failed to fulfill was the most important one. Even on an emotional level, it was number two after resurrecting Hermione. Then again, maybe he hadn't failed just yet, which was just as promising as it was worrying.
His Inner Critic pointed out that the real world doesn't work like stories. His Inner Critic remarked (in what sounded like Professor Tome's dry voice) that they would be here for much longer, he still had plenty of time, and nothing important would be happening tonight. Except for the standard nation-wide celebration and delayed sun-raising, of course...
Which he never had investigated, come to think of it. Maybe that would mark the conclusion of the story. A scientific investigation into Equestria's solar and lunar cycles... but no. While it was certainly his style, it didn't really conclude the story.
In any case, his Inner Critic turned out to be right. Nothing of what it considered 'plot relevance' happened that night.
From his perspective, anyway.
Strangely enough, nothing happening was the final straw that used up the last of his patience.
And so, that night, as all of Equestria celebrated, Silver threw up his hooves. He decided he would just have to make the escape happen. With or without the mirror's cooperation.
With the determination that came from taking his destiny into his own hooves, a plan began to form.
He considered what Professor Quirrell had said about the mirror... about the realms invoked by it... the creatures invoked by it...
A/N: Bonus points to anyone who can figure out Silver's escape plan before it's revealed. It'll take a few chapters to get there, and there'll be hints along the way, so you've got plenty of time.
The next town over, an event that Silver's Inner Critic would have called 'extremely plot relevant' began to take place without his knowledge or awareness.
The city of Canterlot was abuzz with excitement and merriment. Most establishments closed early, while the ones that sold food and drink stayed open much later than normal. Even the royal castle would be short-staffed.
From the highest nobles to the lowest servants, the city celebrated. Even the highest nobles of all, the Princesses of Equestria, did not spend the eve of Summer Sun in their courts.
On this particular holiday, Princess Luna had no official duties beyond her right of ascendency: suffusing the sky with stars and moonlight. Other than that, she had the night free.
Despite this, and unlike the rest of the country, her Royal Fool was not allowed to take the night off. (Not that he would have joined the celebrations either way. He preferred the library.)
"You fear relapse?" Riddle asked on his first ever 'you have to be here tonight, no exceptions' shift.
He stood in his employer's bedroom, and his employer did not seem intent on leaving it. "Yes," the princess nodded. "This night more than any other."
"Because it is the night before the Summer Sun Celebration, and therefore a reminder of your banishment?" Riddle asked. "Or because, at stroke of midnight, it will be your birthday?"
"You know?" the princess gasped. "How?"
Riddle Tome had, within his first month of arrival, read ancient works which happened to disclose the birthdays of the princesses, among many other details which he had been more interested to know at the time.
"The history books in the public library did not fail to mention the fact," Riddle relayed. "Ever since I noticed the dates were the same, I've suspected the coincidence. You were banished on your birthday. There has to be a story there."
"Do you not know that as well?" she asked, sounding slightly bitter about it. "I thought it would be public knowledge."
He shook his head. "All stories about the incident reek of falsehoods. Celestia declined to comment, and so ponies were left to their imaginations." As with any ancient thing, he had once said, historians have written down enough lies that it is hard to be sure of anything by this point. "Would you be willing to share your own account of that night?" he asked. "It might help me perform my duties if I know what caused you to fall in the first place."
Besides an outside influence that was dispatched with a simple Avada Kedavra, he thought quietly.
"...Very well."
Riddle felt an involuntary twinge of anticipation. It was such a rare opportunity to acquire first-hand accounts of ancient times. Not since he'd killed Slytherin's basilisk had he had the pleasure.
"As you have experienced these past months," she began, "no ponies were visiting my Night Court. I am used to it now, but on that night, t'was the longest empty stretch to date. It had been a rather rotten month, and I was hoping a few petitioners might cheer me up on my birthday."
"You pinned your hopes and expectations on a single night?" Riddle asked.
The princess nodded with a sigh. "In retrospect, it was foolish of me. Everything went wrong. Nopony visited my Night Court, as usual. Nopony save my sister genuinely wished me a happy birthday. For the most part, it was a very... mundane and uneventful night, which somehow made it even more unbearable. But if it had been just that, I would not have..." she trailed off. Her eyes unfocused from him, unfocused from everything, seemingly lost in memory.
"What happened?" Riddle said, in case she needed prompting.
"I was dream-walking," she said distantly. "Easing the slumbers of my subjects." The voice of the princess began to tremble. She took a deep breath. "About an hour before I was meant to lower the moon that night, I encountered the nightmare of a foal. I tried to disperse it but my efforts only led to more nightmares. It was not until I saw the nightmare that I... I understood..."
Riddle patiently waited for the princess to continue.
She wiped tears from her eyes. "The foal's nightmare," she said at last, in a strangely detached voice, "was me. I was his fear. A terrifying and false image, but me nonetheless. Naturally, my presence in his nightmare did little to quell it." The princess took a few deep breaths. "No matter what I did, no matter how much I tried to comfort that scared little foal..." The princess trailed off, wiping away more tears and sounding like she was trying not to sniffle.
"Well," said Riddle as the princess calmed herself once more, "at least now you are prepared to handle that kind of nightmare. Simply show the story of the Elements defeating you, then show yourself making up with your sister."
The princess gazed at him, her expression unreadable.
"Perhaps," she said softly. "But that idea was unavailable to me a thousand years ago. I tried to disperse the dream through ordinary means, showing the foal my own form and trying to calm him. Eventually, I could not bear to keep making things worse." Her voice began to tremble again. "I intended to cry myself to sleep that night, but I made the mistake of leaving my bedroom door open. My sister passed outside as she did every morning. She saw my state, naturally, and she attempted to..." her tone darkened, "cheer me up. With trite pleasantries. She did not try to understand my mood. Just as she had neglected to understand it for years. In that moment, I decided that it was her fault – her day's fault for hoarding the love of our subjects, her sun's fault for stealing their attention... her fault for neglecting to even notice my frustration before that night. And for failing to give what I needed when she finally did notice."
"I imagine," Riddle said into the pause, "you did not react well."
His employer snorted. "I slammed the door in her face." Then her voice lost all humour. "I decided that if I would be viewed as a nightmare by my subjects, I may as well be..." her voice darkened again. "A Night Mare. Even as my sister raised her sun that morning, I refused to lower my moon. I was convinced that blocking her light would finally bring me the attention I deserved."
The clock clicked quietly in the physically calm, emotionally turbulent room. Well, one end of the room was emotionally turbulent.
"It certainly did that," said Riddle, after the silence had stretched. "What we believe we deserve and what we actually deserve are often two very different things. Though of course," he continued, "it is a common mistake for a pony to believe they deserve anything at all. All entitlement is foolish. It leads to false hope, disappointment, and the temptation to take unhealthy shortcuts when things do not go your way. Worst of all, it leads to inaction and ineptness. Those of noble birth rarely realise it, even throughout the course of their entire lives. Those who are entitled do not do what it truly takes to achieve their ambitions. They do not cleverly plan, they do not carefully think, they do not work hard... and they are incapable of facing unpleasant aspects of reality. Especially if it conflicts with their established patterns of behaviour."
It was only thanks to Mr. Silver's recent pestering that Riddle acknowledged that last part. 'Accepting unpleasant truths that violate your biases and thought patterns' is indeed a virtue of Gryffindor, and a necessary virtue at that.
"Some break their bounds with ambition," he said aloud. "Others, with courage. Either way, extraordinary change requires extraordinary effort. When you earn your salvation, only then can you say that you deserve it. Temper tantrums earn nothing but scorn."
The princess's eyes were distant as he spoke. He was unsure if his words were heard, let alone heeded.
"By the way." Riddle decided a temporary subject change might be best, at this point. "Your tale implies that you created an eclipse at will. Can you still do that today? Or was it exclusive to the temporary powers of Nightmare Moon?"
"What?" the princess asked, breaking from her trance-like remembrance of the past. "Eclipse? What is that?"
"It is when the moon either partially or fully passes between the planet and the sun," said Riddle, only then realising that perhaps the phenomenon would not be known here, and that he needed an excuse for knowing it well enough to name and define it. "A lunar eclipse is the opposite, when the planet casts a shadow on the moon. A complete solar eclipse, as the name suggests, occurs when the moon completely blocks the sun. Eclipses are relatively common outside Equestria, where you do not have the direct oversight to prevent them from happening, though they only last a few minutes."
The princess stared at him for a moment, likely gauging his honesty, then sighed and shook her head. "You speak as if the moon blocking the sun is natural."
Riddle shrugged. "Perhaps not in a country where you can prevent it from happening. Everywhere else, solar eclipses occur somewhere on the planet with a frequency of something like once every 18 months, if my memory serves me correctly."
"How do you know this?" the moon princess asked, eyebrows furrowed.
It was a useless fact he'd memorized for his Astronomy N.E.W.T. long ago. "In truth, I do not. It is simply the best guess available to me, based on the works of others."
It might not hold true for this world, but he had literally no other means of prediction. And even if it didn't hold true, the princesses could always make it be true.
"You are not being honest," she pointed out.
"But I am also not lying."
The moon princess gazed at him skeptically.
"Eclipses are natural," he emphasised. "If you wanted, you could arrange for a holiday to introduce the ponies of Equestria to the phenomenon. After consulting your sister, of course. From what I gather, the mistakes of the past might have been averted by communication, rather than autonomous action."
There was a long pause.
"They could have been," the princess finally admitted. "I never told- have not told Celestia about this. About any of this. And thou will not tell her."
"Of course not," Riddle said, accepting the royal command with simple honesty. It's not like it mattered to him. "But based on what I know of her personality, your sister would certainly sympathise if you explained. Is that not what you want?"
"No," said the princess.
"Then what do you want?"
"In truth, I do not know." Luna sighed, her gaze distant once more. "If it were possible to change the past, I would wish that she had seen something amiss before that night. As it stands, now I just wish she would realise her past mistakes without my spelling them out." Luna's eyes went even further from the present. "It used to be that way when we were little. Tia would know every little thing that made me upset, even when I did not know myself. She must have learned how to do it when we were foals, I suppose. I would not have been able to use my words to communicate my troubles as a yearling. She maintained that awareness throughout our fillyhoods, but... as we grew older..." the princess trailed off, wearing a light frown. "I suppose our duties caused us to drift apart, and... and I do not know if there is anything that can bring us together again. It-" The voice of the princess caught for a moment. "It is like a hole in my being. And I do not think it will ever be mended. Not unless... not unless Celestia sees it on her own. I had been so hurt by her cheerfulness when that was not what I needed. Not then. Not from her. I needed her to ask why I was crying, not smile and wave."
There was another stretch of silence.
"A thousand years is a long time," Riddle remarked. "Your sister is blind to many things, but I suspect she has realised that particular error after having so much time to think about it."
"I wish that were the case," sighed the princess of night. "But if she has understood, she has not told me."
Just then, the clock on the wall chimed midnight. Princess Luna barely seemed to notice.
"I would not ordinarily do this," said Riddle Tome, "but I once said to myself that I would perform random acts of charity until my mind went there easily, and I have not made enough true efforts to that end."
The original criticism was that he did not see nice ways to accomplish his goals because he had a self-image of not being nice. Not even when nice strategies would be more effective. The action he intended to perform next would cost him nothing but his self-image of not being nice, and it had the potential to advance his agenda, so he continued. He ignored the nagging sense that he wasn't being himself as he reached a hoof into his cloak.
"I suppose now is as good a time as any to start practicing. It is custom to give ponies a present on their birthdays, correct?" he asked facetiously.
One of the requisites for becoming a powerful wizard is an excellent memory. The key to a puzzle is often something you read twenty years ago in an old scroll, or a peculiar ring you saw on the finger of a man you met only once.
The very first night after his entrapment in the mirror, he had seen something that his mind had marked as possibly important. Thus, he memorized it exactly.
"From your perspective," Mr. Tome began, "this might be the greatest gift I will ever be able to give you. So don't expect better in the future," he warned. "Though in truth, it is not quite my gift. I am merely the messenger."
"Messenger of what?" his employer asked.
He withdrew the Pensieve bowl from his person and set it to levitate before him. He then stood still for a time, recalling the relevant memory in as much detail as possible, slowly pulling it from his forehead.
"I witnessed this scene immediately prior to your return," he explianed. "It occurred in a secluded meadow near the Castle of Two Sisters, and the pony within did not know she was being observed. I later learned that this might have been a nightly occurrence. The pony you are about to watch had a routine of disappearing every single night, from the time the moon began to lower in the sky to the moment the sun peeked above the horizon. It's only a guess that what you are about to witness is what she was doing each night, during her absences. If so, this memory would contain the final time she did it. Beyond that, I suggest you watch and see for yourself."
Luna looked at the liquid within the floating liquid container for a long moment, then put her head into the basin-
-and suddenly found herself flying above the Castle of Two Sisters, her childhood home. Actually... there was the feeling of flying, but none of the emotions. She kept her own emotions as she watched the scene, just like the first/last time she watched Riddle Tome's memory. It was strange to feel the air beneath the flesh of thestral wings. For all that they were her dearest subjects, she had never known them on this level before.
The memory took place during the night, at a time when the moon would be going down... perhaps in an hour. It was a time when her nightly duties were almost done, a time when her sister would be awake, but not yet in charge.
As if on cue...
A/N: If the following link doesn't work...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7PQ9IO-7fU&t=328s
...then type "Lullaby for a Princess" into YouTube. Watch it before continuing. Or don't. But I'm not transcribing the lyrics just yet.
Obligatory disclaimer that the video, song, animation, performance, etc. are not mine in any way, shape, or form. When you're done watching, or if you've already seen it, you can keep reading.
Riddle had not been expecting his employer to discover the 'repeat' function of the penseive on her own. Nothing else explained the fact that she remained submerged for hours. He'd been annoyed after the first fifteen minutes, but when he realised what was happening, he decided it was just as well. He was almost done with the library now that his noble status allowed him to remove and return books (on the condition that he honestly say he'd done nothing to the tomes other than read them). This book was one of the last.
When Luna's head finally emerged from the basin, the book vanished into his robes. Water was dripping from her face, and from this angle, he saw that not all of it was basin water.
"Guard!" Luna said loudly. The door to her bedchambers slammed open. "Bring us to our sister at once!"
The trip did not take long. Riddle followed, invisible and silent even as Luna entered her sister's bedchambers and closed the door behind them. (Whether either alicorn knew he was there, he didn't know. If he had to, he could always use the time turner to give himself the alibi that he'd stayed behind in Luna's room.)
A white alicorn, barely out of bed, looked up lazily. "Good morning Luna," she said with a yawn and a smile. "Happy birthday. How went the celebrations?"
"Sister," said Luna. "I heard."
"Heard what, Luna?"
Luna took a step closer. "Your lullaby."
Celestia froze. She stood there, still as a statue, not saying anything.
"Sister?" Luna asked.
Celestia's voice, when it spoke again, was small and fearful. "You did?"
"Yes."
"Luna, I'm-" Celestia choked. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't-"
"Sorry?" Luna tilted her head. "Why would you be sorrowful?"
"The lyrics were never finished," Celestia said, quickly and teary-eyed. The ruler of Equestria was in an emotional state that, according to all documentation, had never been seen in the past millennium. "Part of the song is awful. They- that part about great reign... a-and brilliant glory- I never- I couldn't..."
The Day princess trailed off, seemingly unable to find words now, just as she claims she had been unable to find the right words for a thousand years.
Riddle didn't chuckle to himself, lest he make a sound that would reveal his invisible presence, but he felt the impulse to do so. Those verses had been rather self-flattering. In a song meant to apologize for pride and neglect, they did not fit. Quoting her past self to outline her own former arrogance was perfectly fine:
Once did a pony who shone like the sun look out on her kingdom and sigh.
She smiled and said "Surely there is no pony so lovely and well-beloved as I."
But if you immediately follow it with...
So great was her reign, so brilliant her glory that long was the shadow she cast, Which fell dark upon the young sister she loved and grew only darker as days and nights passed.
...that same arrogance in the song's narration, it defeats the purpose.
If Nightmare Moon heard those lines, she would have scoffed and said something like 'even after a thousand years, she still thinks so much of herself, doesn't she?'
At least Celestia had the wherewithal to see that for herself. But none of that seemed to matter to her younger sister.
Luna closed the remainder of the gap between them. "Tia," Luna said, her neck around her crying sister's in a firm embrace. "It was perfect. I loved every word."
There was the slightest of pauses, and then the world seemed to shift. Or maybe explode. Like a sun coming out from behind the clouds, though it was not daytime.
The burst of magic put Riddle on immediate high alert, but when he noticed that the hair of the Day Princess changed, he relaxed slightly, acknowledging that this great magical wave was probably not an attack.
The pastel greens and sombre blues that might be seen in an aurora borealis had changed to a brighter spectrum of rainbow colours – like the cyan pegasus from Ponyville, only more so. Her hair looked like a true rainbow now. Riddle got the sudden and certain feeling that Celestia had been clouded before, but had just now emerged into her true, full self.
He rolled his eyes at the blatantly obvious symbolism that so often came with the magic of Equestria.
It was like standing in the eye of a hurricane of harmony, as strange as that might sound. Luna felt it – as powerful as anything she'd ever felt, yet as wonderful and brilliant as the brightest healing charm. When she looked up, she saw the source.
Her regal sister no longer looking like she'd just gotten up from bed. Standing tall and proud, a fully matured white alicorn stood in the corridor, now looking like she was ready to illuminate a nation.
"Sister," Luna gasped. It was strange that she couldn't find anything to say except, "Your hair."
Celestia glanced back at her flowing mane of rainbow, her eyes widening only slightly in surprise. She seemed about to say something, then paused.
"No, sister," Tia said with a smile, turning her gaze away from herself and fixing her eyes firmly on Luna. "Your hair."
Luna looked at her own blue mane. It was not flowing nor magical at the moment. "Sister?" she asked, confused-
Only to be nearly-blinded by the glow of a spell more intense than she had ever seen. Then there was another burst of magic, and-
She felt her head and back lighten slightly.
(Riddle quietly wondered if he should be impressed or afraid that Celestia had invented and enacted a completely new ritual in the span of two seconds, for it was clear that she'd just sacrificed something, and he doubted it had ever been done before.)
"I will never leave you behind again, Luna."
When her vision returned to her, a confused Luna looked to where her sister had been, only to be met with the image of a different alicorn. She froze at the sight. First in dreadful fear, but then, as she understood, in wonderment.
Before her stood an alicorn with a misty mane of flowing starlight and coat the color of the night sky... though not pure midnight, as Nightmare Moon's had been. The alicorn she saw, which she suddenly realized as herself, stood as tall as her sister – who emerged from behind the mirror with a smile. Tia no longer looked quite as magical as she'd been a few seconds ago, but she still had all the markings of maturity about her. Just as Luna saw and felt all the markings of alicorn maturity about herself.
"Happy Birthday, sister."
There truly was only one way to respond.
The younger pony almost tackled the older in a fierce embrace. And for the first time, the two ponies hugged each other not as younger sibling and older sibling, but as equals. As true sisters, as deep as any bond could possibly be.
The blissful moment lasted as long as it needed to, and she was not upset when it ended.
"Sister," said Celestia, pulling away to meet her gaze (at equal eye-level, she was thrilled to note). "I am curious. If you heard my lullaby from the moon, why did you only bring it up today?"
Luna laughed. "Oh, I didn't hear it from the moon, dear sister. I don't believe I remember anything from that time, if I was even aware at all."
"Then how did you hear it?"
Luna smiled. "T'was a birthday gift." At her sister's confused look, Luna gestured. "Come," she directed. "I'll show you."
The two alicorns walked to Luna's chambers as a third followed invisibly behind. Then, thinking better of it, the third stopped walking. He noted the time with a wordless, wandless tempus, then he teleported to the room in which he'd probably been meant to remain. If a time-turned self had been there moments before, he couldn't tell, which was just as well. No sense committing to that future if he didn't have to.
He also had an excuse in case either alicorn had noticed his intrusion on their privacy, but he'd rather not use it, just as he'd prefer to not make liberal use of time-turned alibis. Eventually, somepony might pick up on the fact that his alibis aren't trustworthy, even if they don't know about time turners. All it takes is somepony else's certainty that he was in two places at once, somehow, and the scheme would be ruined. Time-turned alibis are useful in minor plots, but otherwise they're not worth the risk of exposing time turners completely.
He appeared in his employer's room before the two alicorns arrived, cast an ordinary disillusionment, then dropped his invisibility and stood quietly in a corner while he waited.
"Here," his employer said when she arrived, leading Celestia to the large bowl floating in the room's center. "This invention is called a Pensieve. It allows one pony to view the memories of another."
Celestia stared at it, a strange expression on her face. "I do not know this magic..." she said slowly.
Riddle wondered if she would remember the dinner conversation that would give it away, revealing his involvement before he revealed himself. It's not like any scholars had asked him about it since then.
"How does it work?"
Apparently not.
"The memory is still within the bowl," Luna said, eyes tracing the silver liquid. "You must place your head into the liquid to watch it."
Her sister glanced dubiously at the bowl before complying without hesitation. Sisterly trust, Riddle supposed.
So as not to be bored for the five minutes it would take Celestia to watch the memory, he occupied his mind with the task of imagining more fitting lyrics to the song he'd witnessed, now that he knew the circumstances surrounding it. The exercise was intellectually stimulating in its own right, not just another opportunity to practice random acts of charity. His mind deemed it sufficiently challenging enough to be interesting. At least for five minutes. He had no musical talent himself, but he was a good enough writer, and he could edit better than he could create.
When that was done, Celestia was still submerged in memory.
He decided to make himself visible with a twinge of effort and caught his employer's attention with a small blip of light.
His employer saw it and met his gaze, her raised eyebrows asking a question.
He walked until he stood a bit behind Celestia. Now his own brows asked the question.
His employer smiled mischievously, then turned back to watch her sister, who in that moment seemed to finish watching, her head shaking in wonderment.
"Sister," said Celestia, hear head dripping as it rose, "if not yours, whose memory is this?"
"If you are looking for potential alternatives for your lyrics," said Riddle Tome, startling the living daylights out of Celestia.
Celestia said "You-" in the Royal Canterlot Voice, likely as a result of being so surprised. Then she caught herself. The great Celestia shouting at her subjects was unheard of. In this century, anyway.
"You could replace 'so great was her reign' with 'so bright was her reign'," he continued calmly, undisturbed by the outburst, "and replace 'glory' with 'ego'. That would convey the intended message."
"Pardon?" she asked politely, still getting her wits about herself. She likely assumed he had arrived while she was viewing the memory, not that he had been there all along.
"If you consider my suggestions," he shrugged, "you will be pardoned. For example, certain parts of the lyrics should be converted to past tense, now that the thousand years are over. And perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "change 'and forgive me for being so blind' to 'please forgive me'. That part works better as a request, not a demand... though in truth, you may wish to simply make it 'I'm sorry for being so blind'." He turned to his employer. "Thoughts?"
"Hm..." said the Night princess while the Day princess stared. "I do not like the word 'ego'. I understand why you suggested it, but 'brilliant glory' has a subtlety to it that 'brilliant ego' does not. The other ideas are not bad. 'Bright reign' sticks with the metaphor of her light casting a long shadow, but 'great' is equally good. The rest is semantic." She turned to face Celestia. "What do you think, dear sister? It is your song, after all."
The white alicorn, now (falsely) understanding what had happened, turned to face him. "Riddle Tome, would you mind returning later? I'd like some private time with my sister."
Riddle looked to his employer, who nodded. Shrugging, he left the room.
A powerful set of privacy charms followed in his wake, preventing eavesdropping.
Nine hundred, ninety-nine years and three hundred sixty two days ago, Equestria's most accurate and accomplished seer – a wizened Earth Pony in her fifteenth decade – advised a grieving monarch that hope was not lost.
If Celestia sang in the meadow outside the Castle of the Two Sisters, every night for a thousand years, the song would reach her sister's ears. Not Nightmare Moon's ears, the seer had reassured her, and no, this prophecy had not been fabricated to appease Celestia's guilt. All other true seers would have Seen the same, and would speak it once more if Celestia ever began to doubt.
If she sang every night for a thousand years, her song would reach the lost Princess Lullaymoon through the void of space and the flow of time, and the two would be true sisters once more.
For the rest of the evening, as the nation celebrated outside, Luna traced patterns of stars in the sky, content to lean against her sister in her bed. Tia's wing was draped over her, and if Luna relaxed her mind, it was almost like they were foals again. She didn't know how long they stayed like that. Maybe hours.
"I wish I could have sung it to you that night," Tia said quietly.
She didn't say which night.
She didn't need to.
Luna slowly turned to look at her. "Can you... can you sing it to me tonight?" she asked. "I would like to hear it with my own ears. And it is still my birthday."
It was the most wonderful request in the world, and Celestia loved her sister for asking it. "Of course, Luna."
Tia's horn glowed with the shape of a spell that Luna had recently read about, but not yet learned. It was a musical spell, one which plays a pre-determined series of instrumentals – in this case, a piano.
Once the music had played for a while, Celestia began to sing.
"Fate has been cruel and order unkind. How can I have sent you away?
The blame was my own, the punishment yours, the harmony silent today.
But into the stillness I’ll sing you a song, and I will your company keep.
Till your tired eyes and my lullabies have carried you softly to sleep.
Once did a pony who shone like the sun look out on her kingdom and sigh.
She smiled and said “Surely there is no pony so lovely and so well-beloved as I.”
So bright was her reign, so brilliant her glory that long was the shadow she cast.
Which fell dark upon the young sister she loved, and grew only darker as days and nights passed.
Lullay Moon Princess, good night sister mine, rest now in moonlight’s embrace.
Bear up my lullaby winds of the earth, through cloud and through sky and through space.
Carry the peace and the stillness of night, and carry my sorrow in kind.
Luna you’re loved so much more than you know. May troubles be far from your mind.
Forgive me for being so blind.
Soon did that pony take notice that others did not give her sister her due.
And neither had she loved her as she deserved, she watched as her sister’s unhappiness grew.
But such is the way of the limelight, it slowly takes hold of its host.
And that foolish pony did nothing to stop the destruction of one who had needed her most.
Lullay Moon Princess, good night sister mine, rest now from moonlight’s embrace.
You bore up my lullaby winds of the earth, through stars and through void and through space.
You carried the peace and the stillness of night, and carried my sorrow in kind.
Luna you’re loved so much more than you know. May troubles be far from your mind.
I’m sorry for being so blind.
The years now behind us, tearful and alone.
I never imagined I’d face them on my own.
Oh those thousand winters slowly passed, I say.
I love you. I missed you, all those miles away.
May all your dreams be sweet tonight, safe beneath your mane of moonlight.
And know not of anger, pain, or care.
And when you weep I’ll stay awake and sing you there.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep...