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// Countdown 
// Story: Luna's Librarian, Twilight's Moon 
// by TheLastBrunnenG 
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Three thousand one hundred and two years ago I, Luna, Princess of the Moon, confessed my love to a stallion I had but recently met. A dashing pegasus he was, fit and kind and laughing, and in this, but the dawn of my young life, I was smitten. I was as I am now, yet disguised by magic and paltry arts of stage and illusion, for I feared to display my true nature. We were young and foolish and whiled away our days in idle play and gentle embrace. Among the green hills we rolled, grass beneath us and clouds above, carefree and joyous.

Yet it was not to last, for destiny intervened, and I was forced to abandon my disguise. Some beast lately escaped from Tartarus found its way to my stallion’s village. Its few ponies could offer but little resistance to the monster, the spears and feeble magics they mustered paling before the creature’s otherworldly presence. Luck found me in my love’s embrace that day, and I shed my guise.

I rose up in my true form, dark and furious, and in a blaze of spellfire and wrath I smote the fiend where it stood. I rushed to my stallion’s side to see to his safety, and though I did merely my duty as Sovereign in defending my subjects, I was sure that I would find thanks and tearful joy. Instead my love was as horrified as if I had been the fiend itself. He recoiled and once he recovered from the shock of my transformation and his witness of my battle, he fell to the ground, prostrate before me. Despite my pleas, orders, and threats, he refused to rise, claiming himself unworthy of the presence of Divinity, swearing to atone for the sin of defiling my physical presence. I lingered, and visited him unseen, but never again did he speak except in jumbles of confusion and regret. My mere presence in my true form had ruined the mind and broken the soul of this handsome colt, and I resolved that I would never be so foolish as to love again.

Two thousand two hundred and thirty years ago I sat on the Onyx Throne, judging and ruling the Ebon Court as was my sacred task. Before me came a minor noble from a distant outlying province, his family obscure and his lineage unnoted. Unlike others of his ilk he bore no grand scheme, no plan to enrich himself – merely had he come to offer praise to me. This was not unusual, as many ponies sought my favor through unwanted gifts and empty flattery. This stallion, hale and strong yet showing the first grey in his chestnut coat, brought no such useless baubles.

Instead he set easel and palette and quickly and quietly painted a portrait of my seated figure, regal upon my throne, the night sky my backdrop. So perfect was the rendering, so accurate and detailed despite its speed, I was captivated. I offered him a boon yet he declined, excused himself, and returned to his province. I was intrigued and found myself staring at his canvas with more longing than the mere appreciation of art. A season later he returned. I cleared the courtroom and he repeated his feat, this time depicting the two of us side by side, before a lustrous moon. Again he departed for his province and took with him my desire.

Another season passed and again he returned. This time I dismissed my court and he produced nothing save for two brushes. I understood his meaning – that this was art we may create together, the stars and moon my own, our hearts and bodies the blank canvas. I took him to my bed, and all was passion and bliss and hearts aflutter. I awoke with his poisoned dagger in my neck, his scheme of years’ planning having come to this one penultimate moment – a demigoddess slain and this cackling stallion triumphant over half the powers of the universe. I was not so vulnerable to mortal steel and arcane toxins as he thought, and rose to slay him with his own weapon. As I towered over his broken body, the life draining from 'round the hilt of his treacherous stiletto, I resolved never to love again.

One thousand ninety-seven years ago I was blessed with the services of an able and most qualified mare to assist in the running of my Court. She was young and insightful yet wise beyond her years. Recognizing her talent, I advanced her to serve at my side. She was my castellan, my steward, my vizier, my majordomo, and my most trusted adviser.  I bemoaned the burdens of rulership to her willing ears and never once did this mare complain, sitting by my hooves with patience and fine advice. I found myself taken with her, though I said naught.

Many winters passed and her loyalty was unwavering. There was behind her eyes the need for more, and through hints and rumors and dreams I knew this, yet I am ageless and took little notice of passing years. Summers passed and her fillyish looks became the beauty of a mare. Autumns passed and the intellect of her prime became the wisdom of her maturity. Winters came and went again and it was as if I had awoken from a drunken sleep, the world different and harsh and cold about me, for she had become aged and infirm and I had yet to notice the passing of our time together. In revelation I rushed to her deathbed to confess, to tell her what I had known with surety but dared not speak, and I was too late. The darkness had claimed her, and as she lay still and as I wept over her I resolved never to love again.

Twenty-two months ago I returned from my exile, my banishment deserved and just. It was at the hooves of a little unicorn, barely a mare, that the Nightmare was exorcised. Even through the haze of the Nightmare her brilliance, her leadership, and her bravery stood through. Never before had  I encountered a pony so extraordinary despite her scant years. I spent the intervening seasons eagerly awaiting every letter she sent and every visit she made to grand Canterlot.

Six months ago at my sister’s behest I came to little Ponyville to grace their Nightmare Night festival, which I soon learned was neither held in fear of Nightmare’s reappearance nor in honor of my return, but was its own celebration of the evening and the joy of fright.  To my surprise and delight my guide was this selfsame unicorn lately responsible for my salvation. At festivities’ end we returned to her home and spent the night in talk and companionship, securing a fast friendship. Soon I knew this would not be enough, and I refused to let the years pass unnoticed again.

Ten minutes ago I arrived on this windswept midnight hilltop, an invitation to my little Sparkle to meet at this spot delivered days earlier. I wrote only that I had a most urgent and pressing matter to discuss and that it was for her ears alone. Now my heart pounds, my breath is short, and I know not what the morning will bring. There are hoofsteps approaching behind me and I hear her voice carried on the nighttime breeze. O Moon, give me strength! O Stars, give me courage! O Sister, forgive me, for I have resolved to love again!