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// Interlude 
// Story: The Six Deeds of Harmony 
// by Defoloce 
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──────────INTERLUDE──────────


nder the great unceasing watch of Sky,
Brought now into the house of Goddess Moon,
The wearied maiden, holding our knight’s heart,
Looked long to where Cadenza’s star might show.

An all those stars could gather in her eyes
‘Twould still but be a pin-light ‘neath the flame
Of clarity and fast, unyielded faith
Presented there for Night to smile upon.

Her balcony, in fetching opulence,
Bricked white in livery of Canterlot,
Was like unto a donjon’s lonesome wall
Which caged a treasure desperate within.

A-glow of blues and whites was cast it all,
Spread out below and nodding in the still
And heady air of summer’s waning sigh,
Yet sleep could find no purchase on her mind.

A thought so long befriended might recoil,
Becoming enemy to peaceful souls.
The maiden conjured courage such to pray,
That she might dareth then to speak Her name:

“O Luna! bring me sleep, and then attend
My dreams in confidence. My love,
He be afield on some errand stern,
And at his back a darkness doth give hunt.”

Her dam was at the door and gave reply:
“A foal be here! A rash, persistent foal!
What clamour couldst she hope to have at beck
Such as to curry notice of the Moon?”

The maiden turned about and bowed her head.
“I fain would give thee peace, my mother true,
Yet sooner could I make a stone to swim
Than well deny what Love hath put to me.”

They crossed their horns in greeting, and were sat.
“No order has he, not for all his works.
Thou canst not lift him up, not for all thine.
A courtly mage doth not consort with steel!”

“And thus he be so mark’d as steel alone?
He be a stallion; I would be his mare.
Thy cool dissuasions doth not weather me—
An I were archmage highest, I’d be his.”

A graveness ‘pon the elder mare did fall.
“Art thou the darkness that thy sense doth tell?
Thou drivest him unwit unto an end
Thou wouldst not have of him. Let Love first age.”

The maiden whinnied, eyes beset with sting.
“What injury would mothers visit here
Upon their daughters, wanting only light?
What wishest thou? What buys thy happiness?”

The dam made stand. “‘Tis simple, issue mine:
A gentle-colt of gentle breeding, sought
For his fair blood and for his alicorn,
As which we have and which our line secures.“

“That prideful lot!” cried she and turned her back.
“Sufferance have we, yet suffrage not
With ‘tother, so in turn we suffer both.
Good night, my mother, so I bid to thee.”

Ere taking leave, she tarried in the door.
“Prayst thou not lightly to the Sun and Moon.
No mares-in-waiting, they, to brush thy mane,
But proper goddesses, with great concerns.”

The maiden young retired, taking sleep
At last for hers, and so she swift did dream.
There Moon was come, with gladness in Her count,
And fashion’d out a parlour for their meet.

As though to spite her mother, Moon saw out
To brush the selfsame maiden’s snowy mane
Ere they conferred. A moment there was kept
But for tranquility and fellowship.

Too soon for either—even in the realm
Of thought and images doth moments pace.
The maiden thereupon took audience,
Perceiving in her self a waxing fear.

“Mine home, O Moon, it seems a gaol now!
The sprint of time recedes beneath its pall
And to mine agonies are left to fend.
Where goeth he, my love, and wherefore go?
He canst not call, nor come, nor I to him,
And magicks mine cannot seek out his dreams.
Canst thou? Thou art the Night Herself, i’faith,
And queen of all the dream-world there beside.
My Moon, my princess, I thee here entreat
A mighty boon, an souls be payment, take!
Whatever favour could I win from thee,
In days or in a lifetime, spend it here!
A wisdom, scant of words, to ease my fret
And balm the hope I harbour for our fate.”

The Moon said naught, but nudged her with Her nose
And bid her lie and rest upon the silks.
She laid Her then beside and brought Her neck
Down on the maiden’s, comforting with weight.

The dream fair wept with what the goddess sang,
The maiden too was haunted by its strain.
Yet plain, however, was the answer gave:
The Sky would ne’er forsake a single soul.

“Alas that thou art made to waver here
Whilst thither far thy knight has made a course!
He questeth now to make his mettle clear
And, at the Sky’s behest, eschew remorse.
We bid him stay, but will be like his Earth,
Abundant and determined in its lot.
The quest be for him but to prove his worth;
From thee and thine be favour ever sought.
Cadenza questeth with him, Love shall learn
Herself of Harmony and how it grows.
Pray fortune finds him well for his return,
And that no darkness reaps what knighthood sows.
He gave out of himself, and now a void.
I can not scry his dreams—they are destroy'd.”

“Fie upon his quest! I pine for him,
Not rather for his deeds! Wherefore his fret?
I am a-ready his, not to be won!
O Moon, prithee give comfort ‘til the dawn.”

The Princess Moon soft smiled on her charge.
“‘Tis more the mystery of stallions’ minds
That they should be yet better than they are.
Thy love doth keep no comfort for himself.“

More songs were then sung in that patient scape
Known only to the Moon and maiden there.
No waking ears could since or now give heark
To such a beauty lingering in dreams.