//------------------------------// // Zen and the Art of Dreamhopping // Story: Blueblood's Ascension Part III; or, Even Alicorns Have Dreams // by MyHobby //------------------------------// The Night Terror poofed into existence. Its head swirled around, and its glowing eyes searched for an escape. It rushed through the blank landscape, swerving between the specks of starlight that were the dreams of Equestria. The princess was coming. The tip of the Night Terror’s essence brushed a dream. A vision of a hummingbird in flight flashed across its vision. It pulled away and bumped a dream behind it, where an earth pony was soaring on an eagle’s back. It flinched as it touched a final dream before untangling itself from the starry cluster: a chicken coop in the fall. It spun around and found itself face-to-face with Shadowfright. Smog drifted between the dreams, small tendrils touching this sparkle or that. The Nightmare in Charge sneered at the Night Terror. “Timing is everything.” “Y-you have to get me away from here, Larry!” the Night Terror hissed. “The princess is after me! The princess.” “My name is Shadowfright!” Shadowfright snapped. “Larry was a pathetic host! I left him on the moon with the other denizens of that ridiculous dust ball!” Shadowfright hissed. “And no! The princess is following you, and we can’t have her finding her way into our little alcove.” He grew larger, until his bulk blotted out the Night Terror’s surroundings. “Did you really think you’d be the lucky idiot who escaped right out from under the princess’ nose?” The Night Terror had the good sense not to nod. Shadowfright sighed. “Go stir up a Nightmare somewhere. Maybe you can scare an alicorn stiff before the princess turns you into mincemeat.” Shadowfright faded away, leaving the Night Terror alone in dreamland. But not for very long. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed as Princess Luna of the Night stormed her way into the unconscious. “Night Terror! Surrender and you will be spared!” The Night Terror zipped away from the princess, towards another cluster of dreams. It touched one, getting a vision an apple pie cooking. It turned back to see the princess fast approaching, though she hadn’t seen it yet. Another dream showed a rocking horse made from what could easily be assumed to be apple wood. Another revealed an apple orchard ripe for the bucking. It touched the orchard and vanished inside. Blueblood stared at his hoof in horror. It was bone-white. Not in the usual “Healthy Luster” kind of way, but the quite literally bone-white “Oh My Gosh Where is My Skin?” kind of way. His chest was similarly devoid of fleshy bits, replaced instead with a rib cage that surely would have made supermodels jealous with its thinness. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. “That was quicker than I expected,” said his father. The gray-coated, bluish-silver-maned stallion trotted up beside Blueblood. “I almost hoped for more needless drama before we got to this point.” Blueblood gnashed his teeth, but Bluemane paid him no mind. “This was always going to be how it ended, you understand,” the father said. “There was never a happy ending in store for you. You saw to that yourself.” Blueblood tried to walk, his legs refused to respond. His skeletal wings flapped uselessly at his sides. “This is pathetic,” Bluemane said. He grinned. “It’s so you!” Blueblood’s horn glowed. “Shhhhuuuuut. Uuuup.” “The living cadaver speaks!” Bluemane turned his back and walked away. “Enjoy eternity, loser.” “Nnnooooot. Mmmmyyyyyy. Ffffffaaaaathhhheeerr.” Blueblood strained as his horn threatened to flicker out. “Whhhaaaaat. Aaaaarrre. Yooooou?” Bluemane’s ears stood up. He looked over his shoulder and thumped his false limb, the rear left leg, on the ground. “Well. Well, well, well.” He walked back to Blueblood, a smirk on his face. “Maybe you’d care to guess? You seem to already have that much figured out.” “Doooon’t. Taaalllk. Liiiiiike. Hiiiiim.” Blueblood clicked his teeth. “Tooooo. Stuuuupiiid.” “This coming from a wet-behind-the-ears, horn-happy jerk?” Bluemane shook his head as his grin chewed on Blueblood’s discomfort. Metaphorically. “So who am I?” Blueblood’s head twitched. He looked the facsimile up and down, his blank eyes searching. “Uuuuuhhhhh…” “Of course I’m not your father,” Not-Bluemane said. “No son of mine would be so daft.” Blueblood’s horn fizzled out, and the prince fell silent. A shadow fell over Bluemane’s duplicate, though the teeth from its grin remained as glisteningly bright as ever. Gray hairs fell away from its body in great clumps. “Who am I?” The thing stepped back into the light, revealing a skeletal face with soulless eyes. “You haven’t the foggiest!” Blueblood sat bolt-upright. He clutched a hair-covered foreleg to his muscular chest. He patted himself all over, even going so far as to search his wings for loose feathers. He lay back after a moment and stared at the ceiling. His heart didn’t stop pounding for a good few minutes. He looked up, and saw Bluebones lying a few meters away. The skeletal pony seemed to not care overly much how many bare bones he showed off in sleep, as the cloak was thrown back. His thin legs lay splayed out, and his head made small movements back and forth. Luna was nowhere in sight. “Are…” Blueblood tapped a hoof against the ground. “Are you awake, Grandfather?” “Oi haven’t the foggiest,” Bluebones said. His head rose about an inch. “Oi think oi might just be livin’ the Nightmare itself.” Blueblood stood. He patted the blue bow tie at his side before walking closer to Bluebones. “Where’s Luna?” Bluebones stood and faced his grandson. “Sh—” He turned away. “She’s after a Nightmare that escaped. She’s found their way out, and she’s closed it up.” Blueblood nodded. “And that’s… bad?” “Oi was the way out!” Bluebones shouted. He collapsed with a grunt, his hoof on his chest. “Oi was the way out. Moi dreams. Moi love. It’s all moi fault.” “Whoa, hay…” Blueblood slowly, hesitantly, placed a hoof on his great grandfather’s back. He shivered as his hoof brushed vertebrae. “I’m… certain that it’s not all that bad.” “Oi’ve spent the last few years sharin’ moi dreams with Charity!” Bluebones coughed. “It’s bad enough even wiffout the escapes! Oi failed moi duty!” Blueblood bit his tongue. It hurt a bit, to be honest, but it was completely necessary for maintaining composure. “Oh.” “Oi just—” Bluebones let loose a bitter, hacking cough. “Oi just wanted to live again, Blueblood! And she let me. Glory be, she let me.” The hall fell quiet, interspersed with an occasional cough from Bluebones. Blueblood patted the skeleton’s back, even as he struggled to keep his breathing steady. He pressed his lips firmly together to keep a frown at bay. “So now what?” Bluebones gathered his legs up beneath himself. “Now you’re the warden. Oi’m relieved of all duties.” “Not all of them,” Blueblood said. He looked down, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. “You’re still going to teach me how to run this sty. I won’t allow you to crumble to dust just yet.” Bluebones tilted his head down. “Fat lot o’ good that’ll do.” “I will learn from your mistakes, at the very least.” Blueblood trotted back over to his resting place and flopped down on his small cushion. He rubbed at his stinging eyes. “Mine are, unfortunately, a different story.” Luna stomped up to a dream. A moment ago, it had been twinkling as silently as its brethren. Now, it was a red-glowing tumult of fear and anxiety. Luna rolled her head, freeing the strain in her neck, and touched the Nightmare with her horn. Her hooves found purchase in dead soil. The air was stifling with heat as a large, red sun fell towards the horizon. Black trees stood all around, their branches bare and their roots decaying. A raven sat on a nearby branch, its red eyes glaring at Luna. It let loose a mournful caw, and then flew away. “Get back here, yah lil’ varmint!” It flew all of two meters. An orange glow surrounded its tail. It found itself flying back the way it came, loose feathers exploding from its wings. It hit the ground and skidded for some ways, until it came to a stop at the feet of a green-coated, gray-maned alicorn mare. Granny Smith, Princess of Apple Orchards, stomped a hoof on the raven’s tail. “Ah think you can just stay right here until you learn some manners!” Luna blinked. “Princess Smith.” Granny Smith looked up with one eyebrow raised and a smile on her face. “Princess Luna, nice tah see you again. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of yah since my coronation shindig.” “It has been too long,” Luna said. She took a few steps closer. “I didn’t know you could dreamhop.” “Dreamhop?” Granny shook her head. “Naw, this is my dream, sure ’nough.” She sneered at the raven. “Or t’was, ’til this here critter got his mits into it.” “I must admit that I’m surprised.” Luna kicked at the dust. When it landed, it became far more dark and damp. All around, buds grew from the tree branches, which bloomed into leaves and flowers right before their eyes. “Most ponies find a little more trouble fighting their Nightmares than you do.” Granny Smith pursed her lips. “Ah s’pose so. Ah’ve had a couple more years experience than most, though.” She smirked. “But if ah can kick my fear o’ going for a swim, ah sure as heck can work through worryin’ ’bout dead trees an’ sad grandkids.” Luna watched as a blossom grew into a ripe, juicy apple. “It’s usually not that simple.” “O’course not.” Granny ground her hoof into the raven’s tail. It finally morphed back into a Night Terror. “But this Nightmare, ah already lived it. And beaten it.” The sun shifted its glow into a warm, yellow, summer sun. A gentle breeze blew past. “Be wary,” Luna said. “Most Nightmares are not so easily defeated.” “Sure as heck, they ain’t.” Granny Smith picked the Night Terror up in a bubble of magic. “Ah think this crummy dummy was runnin’ scared from a certain Princess o’ Dreams.” Luna frowned. “No doubt it will surrender,” she said. She glared out of one eye at the Nightmare. “Won’t you?” It nodded vigorously. Luna took the Nightmare in her grip and spread her wings. “Until next we mee—” “Hold it just a moment!” Granny Smith held up a hoof. “Where in Tarnation are yer manners? Yah don’t just stop in an’ save the day without stayin’ a while!” Luna’s wings folded up at her sides. “Since when?” Granny guffawed. “You adventurers and heroes, always movin’ an’ never stayin’. Got any reason to be elsewhere right this second?” Luna glared at the Night Terror. It curled up into a little ball. “Not anymore, truthfully.” She turned her head. “I… just solved a mystery that I’m afraid…” She shut her eyes and sat down. “It will keep.” “Like any good pie,” Granny said. Her horn flared, drawing close two wooden lawn chairs. “Now, from what ah hear, you’ve had a busy couple o’ weeks.” A cage was fashioned out of Granny’s orangey magic, and the Night Terror was stuffed inside. Luna relaxed her hold on it, though she did not relax her shoulders. “Tartarus and Nightmares have eaten up the lion’s share of my time, yes.” She leaned back upon the lawn chair, its wooden legs creaking. “And every solution drags up its own problems.” “Life’ll feel that way,” Granny Smith said. “Things always seem to get worse afore they get better.” She pulled a tall, cool glass of dark amber liquid from nowhere. “But believe you me, they get better.” Luna took the glass in her hooves and sipped. “Mm. Sweet Apple Acres Cider. Unmistakably, magically delicious.” “Fresh brewed yesterday,” Granny Smith said, conjuring up a glass for herself. “Or just now, since we’re dreamin’.” Leaves fluttered around, golds and reds and browns all gathered together in the wind. The trees were an explosion of fiery color as apples dropped into their prescribed baskets. “It’s a beautiful dream, Princess Smith,” Luna said. “It’s a dream come true, at that,” Granny Smith chuckled. “Makes it that much sweeter. An’ just call me Granny. Ah’m too old to be a princess.” Luna shook her head as the corners of her mouth turned up. “Too old. What does that make me?” “Dunno.” Granny leaned on her armrest. “What does that make yah?” Luna squinted at Granny Smith, and then looked out over the orchard. “I don’t feel a thousand years old. But there it is.” Granny Smith watched Luna closely. When the blue alicorn didn’t move for a while, Granny piped up. “Can ah ask yah a personal question? Kept in confidence?” Luna’s mouth twitched. “You may ask it, though I won’t promise an answer.” Granny Smith clutched her hooves together. “How old were you when you were banished?” Luna’s ears stood straight up. She sucked in a breath. “Ah’m sorry,” Granny Smith said. “It ain’t right to pry.” “Sixty.” Luna sat upright as she fought to keep her breathing steady. “I was sixty. I am now one-thousand-sixty-three.” “Sixty?” Granny Smith’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head slowly. “Hon, that ain’t hardly nothin’.” “No?” Luna looked at her, her eyes hollow. “It seemed quite enough.” Granny Smith leaned her elbow on the armrest and touched her snout to her hoof. “Know what ah think that makes yah?” Luna blew a breath out through her nostrils. “No. What?” “Makes you a young pony at heart.” Granny nudged her in the side. “Young pony in body, too, since yah ain’t aged a day in all that time.” Luna’s eyebrows met. “What are you getting at?” “Ah’m getting’ at that you’ve missed a thousand years, an’ it’s about time you started gettin’ them back.” Granny Smith rolled her shoulders and summoned herself another glass of cider. “B’sides, you’re hankerin’ for some rest and relaxation. Ah can see it in your wings.” Luna unclenched her wings from her sides. “I have duties to attend to.” “Duty shmooty booty patootie.” Granny Smith waved a hoof. “We all have duties, Luna. We all get our duties done. An’ then we all get tah reap the reward o’ a job well done.” “I have responsibilities,” Luna sighed. “To my people. To my throne. To my post. To my friends.” “True, all of it.” Granny Smith met Luna’s eyes. “But yah also have a responsibility to yourself.” She leaned across the space between their chairs. “An’ tonight, ah think you get tah do a lil’ reapin’ o’ the fun variety.” “Fun is for holidays and foals, and I have neither.” “Funny,” Granny Smith said. “Ah got both. ’Nough for the two of us.” Despite herself, Luna smiled. A single chuckled jumped out of her chest before she could hold it in check. “And what sort of fun did you have in mind?” “Me?” Granny Smith asked. “Ah’m just an old coot with a bad hip and the power of everlastin’ apples.” She grinned. “But ah know a certain somepony who’d be mighty happy to see yah again.” Luna smirked and shook her head. “Surely you don’t refer to—” “Come on, Princess,” Granny said. “Live it up a lil’. This’ll get the both of you outta a rut, ah think.” Luna shuffled in her seat. Granny laughed. “Hay, whatever happened to the princess who showed up one Nightmare Night and said: ‘We like this ‘fun,’ how may we partake in more?’” Luna’s eyebrows lifted at Granny Smith’s surprisingly spot-on impression of her voice. “She hasn’t had a day off in a while.” Granny clapped her hooves together. “Take it from an award-winnin’ diver. Sometimes you just gotta take the plunge.” She tilted her head to the side. “Now he’d say somethin’ like: ‘Make the jump, and the parachute will open.’” “I had no idea the two of you were so philosophical.” Luna stood and arched her back. “He gets it from his granny, sure ’nough.” A light snowfall dusted the orchard as Granny wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Now go on. Scoot. Ah’ll watch over the Nightmare while yer havin’ fun.” Luna looked around at the white-blanketed trees. “Are you sure you’re fine being alone?” “Pfft.” Granny Smith pointed at the trees. “Take a look.” Luna did. She saw three foals playing in the snow, a colt and two young fillies. A snowpony was slowly but surely being brought into existence. The colt waved a red-coated hoof at the princesses, and then lifted the littlest filly onto the snowpony’s back. “Ah’m gonna just sit awhile and reap my reward,” Granny Smith said. She smiled up at Luna. “There’s your signal. Shoo.” Luna’s horn flashed, and she was brought to the Unencumbered Unconscious, “Dreamland” in layman’s terms. She looked at Granny Smith’s dream for a moment, before sticking her hoof into the midst of another. Apple Bloom sat within; she and her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders were putting together a wooden rocking horse. It almost looked like one, too. Almost. Luna moved to the next dream, and found Applejack serving various apple-related foodstuffs in Canterlot. The bits piled high, and her smile glowed bright. As Luna watched, the bits reconstructed themselves into a bright, shiny barn; a glistening, silvery plow; and… Was Granny Smith doing a Leprechaun Jig? Luna laughed as she moved away from the dream. “At least she hasn’t given up on it.” That left only one more dream floating in the Apple family’s cluster. Luna raised a hoof and froze. She stood still for a moment, her wings half-extended and the strands of her magical mane swaying before her face. She worried her lower lip with a sigh. “Bluebones…” She gave a firm nod. “It’ll keep.” She touched the dream and teleported in. “The name’s Gumshoe,” a deep voice said. Luna pressed her lips together. “Horseshoe Gumshoe,” the voice continued. “Ah got two best friends. One’s a cask of cider ah keep in my pocket. The other’s a volleygun ah keep on mah hip. Ah’m a private eye.” Smoke drifted around Luna’s face. She coughed and waved it aside. She stood in a dark room. The blinds were drawn, the lamps were off, and the air was so stuffy it swallowed up what light remained. A desk sat before her, old and chipped. Papers covered it like ratty blankets on a fat pig. Luna was surprised to see something quite like herself already standing in the dream, wearing a black dress and leaning against a chair. A stick was clenched between its teeth, out of which a wisp of smoke twirled. She saw her copy’s eyes shift back and forth as sweat dripped down its neck. Luna squinted. She didn’t look like that at all. “She was a pushy dame,” the deep voice, Horseshoe Gumshoe, said, “but she had a case.” Luna’s mouth dropped open. “I am not a ‘pushy dame!’” She leaped up and bumped her double aside with a severe nudge of her blue flanks. The doppelganger flew across the room and impacted the wall, disappearing into nothingness. Luna’s horn flashed, coating her with a similar black dress, yet with a far more flattering cut. Her mane swirled itself in a layered, voluminous style. The stick threatened to appear in her mouth, but she spat it on the floor the instant it reared it lung-staining head. She sat in the chair, angled her body just so, and smiled across the desk. “So, where were we?” A fedora sat across from her. Or, presumably, the fedora hid the pony sitting across from her. Two green eyes stared back at her, lidded and critical. “Her sudden change of attitude got mah attention better than any cut o’ dress. Ah got tah thinkin’ about whether she was the one in danger, or ah was.” Luna brought her hoof up to her mouth to hide her smile. “I heard you were the one who could help me.” “She seemed to skirt around the question,” Horseshoe Gumshoe said, “about who she wanted found. Or who wanted her found.” “I am looking for a stallion. A friend of mine,” Luna said. She crossed her forelegs with a smirk. “He is skilled in many crafts and activities, and it was with him that I earned so many awards on that day of great sport.” “An old pal of hers,” Horseshoe said. “She described him to the letter, and it all spelled trouble for me.” “It shouldn’t be too much trouble.” Luna stood and leaned on Horseshoe Gumshoe’s desk. “After all, am I not looking at him right this second?” Horseshoe’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Luna?” Luna’s eyes twinkled. “Hello, Sir Macintosh.” Macintosh burst out from underneath his fedora. He slid his chair back and bowed low. “P-Princess Luna, howdy?” Luna sighed behind a tight smile. “I am fine at the moment. How do you do, Sir Macintosh?” “Fine.” He stood slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of the dark office. “Am ah dreamin’?” “I believe so,” Luna said, “unless you’ve taken the time to build an office in your barn?” “Eenope.” Big Mac plopped the hat back on his head. Luna lifted a paper off of the desk. She raised the blinds, letting sunlight shine in. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Noir.” “Ain’t, really,” he said. He shifted his weight between his right and left legs. “Ah just saw a movie at the cinema a couple weeks ago. Must’ve made an impression.” Luna laughed deep in her throat. “And the patron who was here before me? What sort of impression has she made on you?” “Before—” Big Mac gulped. “Oh. Well, um, ah’d say…” He laughed unconvincingly, but then choked on the smog. “So—ahem—what brings yah here?” “A suggestion by your granny,” Luna said. “She was of the opinion that we both need to experience a little fun.” She lowered her eyelids. “And frankly, Sir Macintosh, I had more fun during the Summer Wrap-Up festival than I have had in a long time.” Big Mac might have blushed. It was difficult to see through his red coat. “Ah’m not the most interestin’ of ponies, Your Majesty.” “Fie!” Luna clapped Big Mac on the back, throwing him off-balance. “I am already aware that you are a humble stallion, Sir Macintosh! You needn’t wallow in it.” She spread her wings and stood beside the open window, her form graced with a halo of dust motes. “Well? What say you? Shall you join me in a night of frivolity and sport?” “Can’t disagree on the idea, Your Majesty.” Big Mac turned his head away. He sucked on his teeth. “It’s been a long plantin’ season. A good one, but long.” He tilted his head. “What did yah have in mind?” “First of all, please”—Luna lifted a hoof—“call me Luna.” Macintosh’s green eyes blinked. “Ah just didn’t think it proper.” “It probably isn’t.” Luna smirked. “But we are friends, are we not?” “Well, sure.” He smiled. “We ought to be by now.” Luna wrapped a foreleg around his neck. His cheeks were squished between her foreleg and her shoulder, forcing him to pucker his lips. “Then come, Sir Macintosh! We have imaginary tokens to win in the adventure of your choosing! It is your dream, after all.” She whispered in his ear. “And your imagination is truly the only limit.” Luna mused that perhaps there was such a thing as “too much of a good thing.” But she also figured that one needed to go out every so often and fight a few pirates. Captain Crabfoot—“Pinchy” to his friends—stood on the bow of his ship, one claw on the rigging and the other clutching a sizable cutlass. The oversized crustacean swung wildly at Big Mac, but the red stallion was far too quick. Macintosh’s shirt hung open down to the bottom of his chest, as in any good action hero’s wardrobe. A foil was securely strapped to his hoof, and sang through the air as he swung it. He crossed blades with Crabfoot, a cavalier grin on his muzzle. Luna originally had the brilliant idea of dressing up as a barmaid. After finding that she fought against her dress just as often as she fought against the crayfish cutthroats, she discarded it for a simple shirt. She wrapped what was left of her dress around her noggin as a head wrap. She bucked, sending at least five pirates into the drink, maybe more. “Methinks I like your idea of adventure!” Big Mac’s sword swished through the air, cutting the tip off of Captain Crabfoot’s tri-corner hat. “Ah think ah like your idea of fun!” Crabfoot’s eyestalks swiveled between Big Mac and Luna. “Do I get a say in this?” “Nay!” shouted Luna. She flew through the air and landed beside Big Mac. The two ponies fought back-to-back as more critters from the sea swarmed around them. Luna’s horn flared as she tossed half of them back into the sea, and Macintosh’s foil knocked the weapons out of any claws that dared face him. Captain “Pinchy” Crabfoot tossed his cutlass onto the deck. “Abandon ship, me hearties! Harr!” He dove into the water with a small “plunk.” Luna and Big Mac stood beside each other on the deck, their chests heaving. They looked at each other, broke into smiles, and laughed right from their cores. Macintosh wiped some seawater from his damp chest. “That was… sommat else, ah tell yah what.” “Verily.” Luna strode up to the ship’s wheel, Big Mac following close behind. “But ’tis not over yet. Look to the horizon.” She turned the ship to sail in the direction of the setting sun. The sky burned orange, and was reflected in the gently rocking sea. She leaned on the wheel and smiled. “What do you think?” “It’s right pretty, Luna,” Big Mac breathed. He sat beside the wheel and unstrapped his foil, keeping his gaze on the sunset. “Right pretty, no doubt.” “It’s some of my sister’s best work.” She crossed her forelegs on the ship’s wheel and rested her head atop them. “I don’t normally get to share the good memories.” Big Mac looked up at her. “Too busy?” Luna shrugged. “That may be one way to look at it.” She turned her head to face him. “Perhaps they do not come as often as I’d like, nor does someone come along to share them.” She smiled. “Thank you for that.” Big Mac ran a hoof over the deck. “My pleasure.” He tapped it against the deck once. “Beg pardon, but it sounds to me like you need more time tah rest.” “Hmm.” Luna flicked an ear and smirked. “You sound a lot like your granny, you know that?” “Well, not surprisin’.” Big Mac snickered. “But ah mean it. You’re happy now, but ah can tell you ain’t feelin’ as up as you act.” “Oh?” Luna said. “Are we such good friends that you can read my mood like a book?” “Luna, you’re a head taller than me,” Macintosh said. He ran his eyes from her mane to her tail. “Ah ain’t never seen you lookin’ so small.” She sat up and straightened her posture. She flicked her mane in the wind, making sure that it flowed regally. “Small? Surely you jest.” “Ain’t a joke.” Big Mac frowned. “You’re overworked. Ah see it in the bags under your eyes. The droop in your shoulders. Those worry lines on your face.” He scootched a little closer to the princess. “You ever thought ’bout gettin’ help?” “Help? I am the Princess of Dreams!” Luna’s head jerked back. “It is my job, Sir Macintosh, and I am quite capable of performing it.” “Ah didn’t say you weren’t,” Big Mac said. “Ah… ah’m good at buckin’ apples. It’s my whole life. Ah can buck an orchard all by lonesome.” He looked back at the horizon to watch the last moments of the sunset. “But ah’d be plum tuckered out if’n ah did.” He lifted a hoof towards her. “That’s why it’s good that ah got Applejack, Granny Smith, an’ Apple Bloom. We all work together an’ lighten the load a bit.” Luna raised her eyebrows. “Don’t be silly. You know how important my duties are. I can’t let just anyone do them.” “If there’s one thing ah’ve learned livin’ in Ponyville,” Big Macintosh said, “it’s that the more important somethin’ is, the more help you’re gonna need to do it.” Luna took a breath, shut her eyes, and shook her head. “No. No, I can’t. Who could I possibly trust?” Big Mac put his raised hoof on her shoulder. Luna’s eyes shot open and snapped to his hoof. She stared mutely as he spoke. “Ah think you can figure it out,” he whispered. “In fact, ah know you can.” Her eyes trailed up his foreleg and to his face. He smiled softly at her, and gave her shoulder a gentle rub. He dropped his hoof to the deck and watched as the last tinge of sunlight dipped below the horizon. “At least think ’bout it,” he said. “Like yah said, it’s your job.” She leaned over, a half-smile on her face. “I don’t know who I can entrust with the dreams of my people, but I know a stallion I can trust to be a good friend.” She pressed her lips against his cheek. She could feel his coat bristle in surprise. “You should know that the adventure doesn’t end until the hero and heroine share a kiss,” she chuckled. She stood and flared her wings. “Rest well, Sir Macintosh. Until next we meet!” She disappeared in a flash. Big Mac watched the empty spot for a second. He stood with a silly grin on his face. He grasped the ship’s wheel with his hooves and steered the ship towards land. A pirate ship could be seen approaching a sheep monastery. He lifted a hoof and bellowed forth a battle cry. “Eeyup!”