Epilogue
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As we passed the threshold of Luna’s room, I marveled at the interior. It was massive – enough for a family of griffons to fly around in – but also, somehow, managing to feel cozy, not distant. The place was barren, free of all furniture save for the big, four-poster bed in the center, directly beneath a moonbeam. A small hint of dust spiraled through that waving, silvery current of light, but with a blast of her horn, Luna expelled all the detritus out of the window, in a cloud of black and grey.
We sat on the bed together, side by side, looking out over the landscape. The lowest reach of Canterlot turned, quite suddenly, into forest, which was cut by a lonely, meandering train track. A small town sprung up in the outskirts of the forest. Even from this distance, I could see the mechanical rigidity of the rows of trees present on the far side of the town, a stark contrast to the random placement of colorful residential housing. Beyond that, the world became much too indistinct to pick out specifics, but I thought I could see the great coastal city of Manehatten, a grey set of blocks amidst a cloud of fog and dust.
Luna sighed. I asked her what was wrong.
“It’s all so different,” she said, wrapping a wing around me. “Before my exile… our subjects were only a set of disparate tribes, linked together because of common fear and hardship. We sat upon thrones of stone, not gold or silver. In that forest, we guided our people. Now, it is… different.”
I simply nodded, and leaned into her side. “They say change is the only constant of life.”
“Aye.” She turned to look at me, eyes wide and searching, gaze somewhat distant. “Even you will wither and die, some day in the future.”
I didn’t want to think of my own mortality, but I couldn’t deny the truth in her words. My jaw set, I looked out over the landscape. What would it be like, a thousand years in the future? Would there be many more cities, and the forest reduced to a tenth of its former size? Would the forest grow to encompass the town, suffocating it, destroying the train track that was its sole vein and artery? Would there even be a Canterlot at all, or would the city be a wreck, a ruin of its former self, left to sit as a cautionary tale of hubris?
I shook my head. “Yes. I know.”
“I love you, Sigurd,” Luna sighed, sinking her snout into the crook of my neck. Her warm breaths tickled the skin beneath the feathers, and tugged lightly at their stems. “I will lose you someday, and I will mourn and dread that day.”
“Then we must treasure every second of our time together,” I murmured, stroking her foreleg, feeling the tension flow from the muscle beneath her velvet skin. “That is the best we can do.”
A pause, and then another promise. “I don’t know if your pony heaven is the same as griffon heaven, but if I’m up there and you’re not, I’ll be looking down. You’ll never be alone.”
“Perhaps it would be easier in the long term if I closed my heart,” she murmured, eyes glistening.
I froze, almost comically. My heart felt as if someone had dunked it in cold water, and somehow, the air seemed to condense. Perhaps she was right, though. It would hurt – but if we weren’t comfortable with this, I’d be spitting on my duty if I acted to pursue something she didn’t want. I was a healer, not a destroyer, of the mind and soul.
She grinned, turning back to me with a saucy smile. The last of her tears trickled down her cheek, leaving trails of sparkling crystal. “That depends on how happy you makest me.”
I gave her a flat stare, before the corners of my mouth lifted upwards. “I accept your challenge.”
“Perfect.” And with that, the wing she had draped around my shoulders swung forwards, knocking me into the soft bed. I barely had time to react before she turned me over, pressed her front hooves down on my shoulders, and straddled my lower torso. Her teal eyes gleamed hungrily, and her mane of liquid night flowed around her head and down her long, sinuous neck like a living river.
She smiled, the expression oozing anticipation, excitement and desire.
Oh, Maker.