TWILIGHT
Twilight regarded what passed for a port under the shade of a hoof, her eyes squinted not against the sun but against her suspicion. It was hard not to be dubious.
When they had first told her of this island, with its little port, she had expected something a bit more civilized, perhaps a proper city of stone and wood beams, streets in grids and piers with numbers. In short, she had expected a port. Instead, she had discovered a scattering of haphazard hovels amongst the ruins of said port, with exactly two peirs still in any shape to receive visitors. Any hopes of shelter and safety crumbled quickly as Twilight began to wonder how old the ruins really were. Some vines grew quickly, after all. Perhaps these were the survivors of the port which the captain had spoken of. More worryingly, it was quite possible that these were invaders, barbarians from somewhere else.
Where? Twilight wondered, feeling foolish. She was a master of many subjects, but geography of the lands west of Equestria was not one of them. She had ideas, but they were vague, and beyond knowing that there were islands she had precious little to offer.
The captain came alongside her as she peered over the side.
“I’m surprised,” he said softly.
“In what?” Twilight answered, gruff.
“How few ponies have come out to greet us.”
Twilight hummed, noticing only two faces gazing up at them from the dock. “That unusual?”
“Very. These ponies have always been friendly, Twilight Sparkle. The last time I was here it took a considerable amount of effort not to leave the island with a young wife and a ton of fruit that would go sour in a week. Maldon is the old name. They call it Midway these days.”
“Let me guess--thought I might like to know a bit of history?” Twilight smiled and glanced over at him. “Well, you were right. So, these ponies are friendly. That’s encouraging. Perhaps they’re suffering from the Long Night same as we are.”
“Undoubtedly,” the captain replied. Twilight watched him now, pursing her lips. He was grim. To be honest, he had been grim most of the time Twilight had known him, which was not long. From cage, to hiding, to the escape from the death city, he rarely smiled. He wore melancholy like most ponies wore clothes. She didn’t blame him. Clearing his throat, the captain continued. “I hate to see that. I’m not that surprised, but somehow I thought that maybe they would be safe. Maybe there’s somewhere, some ponies who are safe from all of… this.”
“I doubt it.”
He grunted and shuffled off.
Twilight returned to her observation as they let the gangplank down. The ponies at the dock waved and greeted them with warmth. And it was warmth, but it was restrained.
The captain was the first off, flanked by two of the Vanhoover ponies. Others trickled off, and when none of them seemed particularly violent, a few more ponies emerged from the ruins and the hovels scattered throughout. To Twilight, they seemed like shy children coming out from behind their mother’s skirts to greet a new friend. Or perhaps predators crawling out from a long watchful waiting. Either way. In any case, Twilight left the ship last, following Applejack closely, watching everything.
Maldon, or Midway, whichever name one preferred, had been grand once. At least, this was the judgement of Twilight Sparkle, amateur equinologist. The ruins were more extensive than she had expected--the little show at the port had been just that--a port, and the real city was farther inland. The road from the port, which she learned was called Orestia after its ancient name, was paved in an ancient but otherwise sturdy manner, not dissimilar to the ancient Imperial roads the Crystal ponies had stretched all the way down to the Zebrahara to carry their merchants. Along the way, half-ruined mile markers in a script Twilight did not recognize stuck out from the ground, mostly at odd angles, held in place by the care of their builders and a bit of luck.
The ponies of the island were all earth ponies, and cheerful ones at that. They smiled often, laughed frequently, and chattered like old mares around a village well. Twilight found their company… well, not unpleasant.
To be honest, they annoyed her. They were energetic, overly friendly, a bit too loud. It was an island of dull-colored Pinkies, and that thought alone was like a living, breathing migraine begging to happen. Yet, at the same time, she could not dislike them. It wasn’t really fair to, and she knew it. The villagers at the dock had offered them food and greeted them with warmth she had not seen ponies have for strangers since Celestia had left on her overlong sabbatical. It was strange. New.
But not new. It was not the ponies of Midway who were the aberrant ones, but herself. Twilight knew this. It was irritating; beyond that, it was painful.
Apostate. She had not heard that word in a long time. It seemed true.
“You’re awful quiet,” Applejack said, still by her side.
“I could say the same for you, AJ,” Twilight replied.
“Fair enough. Difference is, I’m just observin’, and you’re broodin’.”
Twilight chuckled softly. “Perhaps. I’m thinking. They seem happy, more or less.”
“More or less,” Appejack agreed. “A little cautious, but still willin’ to be neighborly.” She paused, then added ruefully, “Well, not neighborly, I guess.”
“Same thing.” Both of them watched Pinkie telling some joke to a colt Twilight had learned was named Solaris. He laughed, enthusiastically tugging at her for more. Pinkie, in high spirits, was glad to provide.
“Like walkin’ down the road around harvest,” Applejack said. “Pinkie used to come help, remember?”
“Yep.”
“Kept us laughing, worked harder than all the hired hooves, Celestia rest ‘em, and she loved keeping the young ones out of our hair when it came time to lay down and catch a breath. Y’know, I always hoped she’d have a brace of foals herself.”
“A brace? You want her to have rabbits?”
Applejack guffawed. “It’d be hard to tell ‘em apart from the jumping vermin with all the energy any child of Pinkie’s would have.”
Twilight smiled despite herself. “You’d have to find a stallion who could keep up.” She paused. “Does Pinkie even like…?”
Applejack also seemed taken aback. “Twilight, it occurs to me--and stop me if I’m wrong--that neither of us have any idea. I’m not quite sure what to make of that.”
“She literally never talked about it. Did she? I have this vague memory... Luna, it’s been way too long.” Twilight grimaced. “I’ve got to stop using the Princesses as epithets. It’s just weird now.”
“I hear ya. I also think I’ma ask Pinkie ‘bout her preferences because the last time Pinkie said anythin’ about that, we were Applebloom’s age or earlier and she thought that weird blue boy, the one with the white wavy hair, was gross. To be fair, he was pretty darn gross at the time. Cleaned up well.”
“Pokey?”
“The very same.”
Twilight laughed loudly, genuinely. “You’re kidding!”
“Kidding? I’m all ears if we’re telling jokes!” Pinkie was on her other side now, grinning like a fool. Twilight and Applejack both jumped back, mouths gaping.
“Pinkie! How did you… why… no. Just no. Don’t explain.” Twilight rubbed her temple.
“What’s the joke! I wanna hear!” Pinkie somehow managed to jump and walk at the same time.
“We are joking now?” Twilight’s ears flattened against her skull as Tradewinds joined them.
“Now it’s a party,” Applejack commented, and nudged Twilight.
“I love parties!” Pinkie added.
“We know. Celestia, Luna, Cadance, and the Song itself, we know.” Twilight groaned, but her heart wasn’t in it.
She had forgotten how nice it was, really, to be surrounded by friends. Pinkie, Tradewinds, Applejack… Not quite the same as the fabled and august five she had walked down the roads of Ponyville with, when the world was bright, but friends all the same.
“Applejack tells me you thought Pokey was gross when you were still in school,” Twilight began, only to be steamrollered by Pinkie’s stream of excited words.
“Well, Twilight, he was gross! Oh my gosh, he had so many piercings and he didn’t take care of them and he was so greasy back then! AJ, AJ, do you remember his mustache?”
“I can’t rightly say I do, Pinks.”
“Well, I do, and let me tell you, it was super gross. And his beard! Oh gosh, he tried to grow one and it was so bad!” She chortled. “It only grew on his neck.”
“Aw, come now, he wasn’t so bad,” Applejack said with a smile.
“Oh, he was nice! He was so shy about asking me out and I was really nice to him about it when I turned him down. He grew up to be a lot better looking. Still not my type!”
“You, er, have a type?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, yeah. Mm-mm. Big, strong, muscular, red…”
Applejack cut in. “That’s my damn brother, Pinkie!”
Pinkie cackled. “Oh, is it?”
“Bah, stallions smell of sobaka,” Tradewinds grumbled. “No matter how is saying.”
Twilight, between them, rolled her eyes, as a now beet-red Applejack hastily tried to get answers out of a happily humming, skipping Pinkie Pie. But even as she did so, she smiled. Ponyville was less of a place, and more of a feeling, she suspected.
The city was huge.
Maldon, Twilight learned, had been dead and gone for a long time. Over a thousand years, give or take. Destroyed in a great conflagration, said some. Others claimed pestilence combined with some great upheaval. A few insisted upon some terrible battle, but none could guess at what enemies such an isolated island city could have had. She saw much writing, most of it beyond her ken. Some inscriptions seemed vaguely familiar. Others she knew were familiar: Old Equestrian, from the time before Celestia and Luna’s taming of Chaos and Advent.
She had stopped by one of these engravings, touching it lightly with a hoof. It was only a small message, carved perhaps manually by some earth pony, for it was rough and hard to parse. Twilight squinted at it in the dying light.
The ponies of Maldon proper had also greeted them with kindness and open hospitality, feasting the crew of the beleaguered vessel in modest, but still fantastic style. In many ways, Twilight was reminded of the Apple family and their welcome feast upon her own arrival in Ponyville. Smiling to herself, she remembered how she’d escaped only barely, after what seemed endless waves of relations offering their own specialties.
The ponies of Maldon lived in the ruins, but did not seem to mind. Some lived in tents in the remains of parks. Others had fixed the roofs of the old houses with straw and wood and made them shelters again for new families. Still others had claimed quite serviceable housing that had remained miraculously intact. They were scattered throughout the once proud metropolis, and yet they were no scattered people. They were there now, most of them, gathered in the biggest of the parks left behind to grow into pine woods, arrayed at great, long tables. She had estimated there were perhaps a few thousand of them living in this city’s bones.
Down the street, a foal played with his friends. A mare watched them from a doorway, and Twilight found her eyes caught by the scene even as the cries of play tugged at her ears.
Without thinking, she began to approach until she stood by the mare’s side.
“Done reading?” asked the mare. Twilight assumed she was probably one of the foals’ mother.
“More or less. Can’t make horns or tails of it. Whoever scrawled that was either blind or in a hurry,” Twilight responded.
“Maybe both!” replied the mare, with a little chuckle as she stretched. “Chaser! Dinner’s ready!”
One of the foals yelled back, but didn’t exactly return home. The mare rolled her eyes.
“Chaser?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting name.”
“An old proverb. I can’t remember how said it. Somepony wise, I guess. Or old. Probably old.” The mare hummed, waving for her child. “It goes like this: ‘Chase the Sun, and it will shine on you.’ “
Twilight was taken aback. “We… my mother said the same to me, once.”
The mare looked at her now directly, and smiled. It was not a wide smile. It was an all together familiar smile, the kind her mother had kept just for Twilight, the kind of smile Celestia had smiled in the great, warm Oratorium at some juvenile idea, some spark of life that Twilight brought with her, that she nurtured.
“I suppose mothers are all the same. Or, we try to be. When we’re good. The name is Rose.” At that moment, the child in question appeared, grinning, and she embraced him, mussing his hair. “Fool boy,” she said, not unkindly, and kissed his head. “You’re taking a breather from the party, I suppose, Miss…?”
“Twilight, ma’am. I’m not big on crowds.”
Rose nodded. “This little one would be far too much of a burden.”
“Hey!”
Rose laughed and nuzzled him. “At least, that’s my excuse. I’m not one for loud parties, myself.” She hesitated. “Would you like some tea? I’ve already eaten, I was cooking for Chaser here, so I wouldn’t mind some company.”
Twilight hesitated.
“I… yes, of course. I would like that.”
“Well, come on in,” Rose said. She herded her child towards the door and gestured to a blinking, awkwardly shuffling Twilight.
Twilight followed her inside. The house was surprisingly well furnished, despite the outward appearance. Yes, the decor was rustic, but she was from Ponyville. She was used to rustic. She liked it. Above all, it felt like home: warm, with a small fire going in a modest fireplace. The foal was given his stew and while he ate, Rose brewed tea. Twilight sat at her table, across from Chaser.
Rose returned with a cup for each of them. Twilight examined them, curious. They were clay--simple, but well-made.
“So, Twilight. Tell me about yourself,” Rose began, sipping at her tea.
Twilight grimaced. “That’s such a hard question. I’m not sure what to say.”
“The beginning is a good place to start.”
“Well…” Twilight chuckled. “I was born in Canterlot. We lived on the second tier, in a nice neighborhood. I read all the time, still do when I’m not wandering the world on a fool’s errand.”
“Such confidence,” Rose said.
Twilight took a sip of her own tea. “Hm. This is good! Thanks,” she said with a smile. “I ended up getting a chance to apply to Celestia’s school as a foal. Based on scores and raw potential, I would have gotten the best magical education available, but I didn’t know that. I thought I had to pass the entrance test.”
“Did you?”
Twilight grinned. “Something like that. You see, nopony passes. They give you an impossible task, and you fail. The point is not how you succeed but how you handle your failure. It’s usually something that not even the instructor can do. It’s different every time. For my test, they wheeled out a dragon egg.”
Rose started. “They wheeled in what? But you were only a child! You could’ve been hurt!”
“Well, it was supposed to be dormant. It was dormant. I kind of… got startled. And exploded.” Twilight drank her tea to avoid eye contact. “And cast a very high-powered illusion spell on my parents. I think one of them was a fern.”
Rose snickered. “Surely you’re kidding.”
“Nope. I hatched the egg, too. Celestia herself had to come calm me down and fix everything. I was about to cry. I thought I had failed and everyone was going to be angry, or dissapointed, or… I don’t know. But she smiled at me, and she made it alright.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She is,” Twilight said, without any hesitation. “I was her faithful student, and she was my teacher.” Twilight paused. Another sip. She stared into the cloudy tea. “I was happy,” she said at last.
“You say that like you won’t be again,” Rose remarked, mussing Chaser’s mane idly.
Twilight shrugged. “I’m looking for her,” she said. “She left us. Whether she meant to or she was delayed or trapped or…” She couldn’t finish. The obvious possibility was too large. “But I have to know. I have to find her. And bring her home, if I can. Only she can fix this.”
“Only her?”
“Only her.”
“Well,” Rose began,cradling her cup as light steam rose from it, “it seems to me, if she were a good teacher, she would have been trying to work towards you being independant. Like a good mother, really. All children have to grow up.”
“Not me,” Chaser said.
“Especially you,” Rose answered and rolled her eyes.
“But… it’s so big. You have no idea what it’s like right now without her,” Twilight said, but then she sighed and leaned back. “No. Besides the obvious things that really can’t be better without her coming back, like the sun… We could have fixed it. I could have fixed it. Somepony could have. But I need her, Rose. I need her to smile at me.”
And, as if to fill the gap, Rose smiled. “I can tell you miss her. Do you think she’s out there? Waiting?”
“I don’t know. I just… I want to think she is,” Twilight said. “I really, really hope she is. But I’m afraid I won’t like what I find when I finally make it to wherever she is. The unreflected life isn’t worth living, but sometimes reflecting on things makes it unliveable. I’m worried the truth will be worse.”
“Maybe it will be,” Rose said. She sighed. “How old are you, Twilight? Twenty?”
Twilight nodded. “Almost. Twenty-three.”
“Such weight on young shoulders. You can’t fix the world, Twilight.”
“I have to try.”
“Yes. Yes, you do,” Rose said. “But you won’t. You can change yourself. You can do what you can, but… you’re only one mare. You’re young, and I think you’ll have time yet.”
“If we’re lucky.”
“It’s really always been that way,” Rose countered. “Midway is a peaceful place, but even we have problems. Life is always… oh, what’s the word…”
“Precarious?”
“That’ll work.”
“I just want to go back to how life used to be. When all I had to worry about what normal things, like finding someone to grab lunch with or the foals from Cheerilee’s class reshelving things in the wrong places. I miss my library. I miss my little town and how happy we were. I miss my friends.”
“Aren’t they here with you?”
Twilight shook her head. Sighing, she laid her head against the table. “No. Not all of them. Applejack and Pinkie are here. I’m so glad they are. If they weren’t here, I’m not sure I would have gotten this far. I’ve almost fallen to pieces so many times…”
Chaser, either oblivious or willfully ignorant, had now finished his dinner and stood up. His mother kissed him on the head, and then he had returned to his playing out in the streets before Twilight could even say goodbye.
Rose watched the empty doorway. “I worry about him. Not because of anything he’s done, but because I’m his mother.”
“Worrying seems to be what we all do, these days.”
Twilight frowned down at the scrying stone. Not, in fact, because she was upset with it in anyway, but more because a light frown had become her standard way of being.
Luna would be on the other side of the stone. She would smile, perhaps. She would enumerate her own days and ways, most certainly. Company was only a flicker of magic away at any given time, and yet Twilight felt alone in the night, with the moon overhead slipping in through the window. She turned the stone over and over in her hooves, humming.
Applejack sat in the doorframe of the old tavern which they had been given. Above the two silent friends, the crew slept with full bellie in warm beds. In most ways, they were far better off here, in the middle of the sea, than they had been at home in ages.
Applejack smoked. She did so everytime they stopped in a place that was relatively safe. Twilight watched her now, partially with that scientific curiosity which had not died, and partially with simple idleness. Carefully, she would draw on the long churchwarden, and with equal care she blew fragile rings out to fall apart in the night air. The air blew back, knocking the smoke rings, so fragile, back towards Twilight. They never made it. Like other nights that Twilight had watched her smoke, only a faint, lingering smell remained. It was not sweet, but it was not offensive. If she were honest, Twilight would say she liked it. Like a fireplace roaring against the winter night, it reminded her oddly of home. Not her own home, but the concept of home.
“Where did you get that pipe?” Twilight asked, cradling her link to home.
Applejack looked back inside, towards the scattered tables of the tavern’s core. “Pardon?”
“Your pipe.”
Applejack nodded and took the stem from her mouth carefully. Twilight wondered at how difficult it must be without magic. “Pa had one. Granny Smith did too, but we made her put it away a while ago. MAc carved this one.”
“Big Mac? He can carve?”
“Sure can, better’n you could imagine. Boy’s an artist,” Applejack said, grinning as she took another draw.”He used to make little doodads and gifts for folks back home, on occasion. I think he probably carved a few little things for that coltfriend of his, before we left.”
Twilight nodded. “I’m surprised you have tobacco left after all this time.”
“Running right low, actually. Won’t have any much longer. But I’ve been spacing it out. I was doing swell until we got on this ship.” Applejack grimaced. “Too much time. Ain’t healthy for a body to have that much free time on their hooves, really. They get to thinking too much.”
Twilight couldn’t really argue with that. She returned to gazing down at her connection home.
“You know, every time you break that thing out…” she faltered. The image in her mind was pristine, but fragile. She wondered if sharing it would break the joy of it. She doubted the integrity of her memory. Had it always been this way?
“Spit it out, sug.”
“Sorry, I spaced out.” Twilight sighed. “I think about one time, after harvest. All of us showed up for the last day to help and then stayed for the party. It was a long, long party… I think it was really one of my first harvest parties with your family, actually. Maybe the second.”
“Hm. I vaguely remember. What about it?” Smoke curled up about her face like a cat stretching its back.
Twilight breathed in, enjoying the light hints of smoke. It was strange--the few times she had encountered such things in the city, it had been foul and a nuisance. But here, in the quiet darkness, there was a naturalness to it that had been missing. It reminded her of potpurri in an odd way.
“You, smoking on the hill after the party died down. The wind was blowing, the night was warm, and we were all happy and exhausted. I caught sight of you, and I just remember it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a moment that’s stuck in my head all this time.”
“Funny how those moments do,” Applejack said, nodding. “You know, little ones, without any big drama or story to ‘em.”
Twilight felt strange. Not sad, nor happy, but something in between. She took the stone and put it back within its protective sack, tightening the drawstrings and cutting it off from the night. She would come back to it. There was time. Sighing, but smiling, Twilight stood and walked over to Applejack. The wood beneath her hooves creaked with every step.
“Bit for your thoughts, hon? You’ve been down. I was wonderin’ if you were gonna burn a hole through that rock you got, staring at it like you were.”
Twilight chuckled. “I’ve been thinking a lot. I miss home.”
“Well, we all do.”
“I just keep thinking about how much of a child I was. I was so naive. Ponyville was bright, and Canterlot was beautiful, and the woods and their dangers stayed in their places. We were happy, weren’t we? I’m afraid I’ll forget and one day, some day, I’ll think it was just a dream. Or perhaps I’ll think I was never that happy, and I just remember those days wrongly.”
“I can’t rightly speak to that. But I do know we were happy, Twilight. I think we were. I know I was,” Applejack replied, taking another draw.
“Do you regret anything? I regret being busy so much of the time. I missed out on a lot of opportunities for lunches and picnics… walks through town… watching Rainbow do her tricks.”
Applejack rose. Where she had been lying across the doorframe, she now laid to the side of it, and gestured to the new space. “Come sit with me.”
Twilight did so. “I could have taken more time to be with you girls. I should have. I could have written my letters to the princess more, or even been so much less formal. She just wanted me to be happy, and I was so obsessed with being perfect so long.”
“Now, Twilight, what is really on your mind? You know we saw you all the time. You were a good friend. You still are. I’m here with you, aren’t I? I could be home right now, kissin’ Soarin’ or nagging Bloom.”
Twilight smiled and sniffled. She was surprised to feel the lump in her throat. Where had it come from? When had she been this emotional? It was Applejack. Or rather, it was in talking itself, and Applejack was helping along.
“Soarin’?” Twilight asked. “So you are serious about him.”
“Serious as I am beautiful.”
“So…” Twilight chuckled and hiccuped a bit through her sniffling when Applejack punched her shoulder. “But… you know what’s funny? I totally had the hugest crush on you when I was new to Ponyville.”
“That ain’t even a secret, Twilight.”
“I don’t believe you. I was so secretive about that!” Twilight protested.
“Hardly. Poor Twi, just blushin’ up a storm! Oh boy, Dash used to think it was the funniest thing. I just felt bad for you.”
Twilight smiled. “Whatever.”
“We’ve come a long way, though. Gosh, it hits me too, now.”
Twilight laid her head down on her hooves. “I’ve been so cold, haven’t I? So insular and harsh and calculating, when I should have felt and acted and… It’s hard to realize that you’ve done so much wrong. I have looked at, but not through. I looked at, but never looked long. I should have been there.”
“But you did what you could. You were trying.”
“Maybe.”
“You were,” Applejack countered. “And you tried pretty hard sometimes.”
They were quiet for awhile. Applejack’s pipe went out, and Twilight lit it for her wordlessly, nodding at Applejack’s quiet thanks. The smoke rose again, curled again. Applejack blew a few rings, and Twilight watched them sail on the unseen currents.
“So,” Applejack began after a while, “you gonna talk to Luna tonight?”
“Yes,” Twilight said.
“You mind passin’ on a hello to Soarin’ and my family for me? Actually… for that matter, think you could arrange me or Pinkie seein’ our kin?”
Twilight thought about it, and then smiled. “Yes, I think I could get that to work. We’d have to work at it a bit, but I think it could work.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Applejack replied, quietly.
In the quiet of her own room, Twilight lit the scrying stone.
She was not entirely alone. Applejack slept on the make-shift pallet across the room, up against the wall. Smiling, Twilight remembered how Applejack’s snoring had bothered her once. But life on the road had hardened her to small disturbances. It was difficult to care overmuch about a companion’s snoring when said companion was the best chance your fragile party had against the raiders and madponies watching you from the shadows.
The stone glowed with a soft white light. Through her magic, she could feel a sort of corridor open up unseen in the long spaces between the island and Canterlot. The magic would cross infinite seas and horizonless plains to reach its target, and this brought her some comfort.
At last, Luna answered.
Luna’s smile was automatic, but still warm. Columns framed her face in the moonlight. The stone on her end seemed set upon a table, but it was not hard to get a good view of things.
Twilight took a deep breath and dived.
The scrying stone saw into its companions, and it could relay messages, but that was not the extent of its abilities. Hearing and seeing were not being there. The scrying stone could cross that boundary. It could take you there. After a fashion. So Twilight reached out, and in an instant she was gone.Her body slumped, her eyes closed, and her mind sailed the Aether.
Twilight stood upon the table now, hoofsized and feeling dazed. Vertigo was a good word for it, she thought, as her knees shook. Vertigo was a good word.
Luna, massive, smiled down at her. “So you were able to do it at last!”
“T-think so, yeah,” Twilight responded. “I feel really lightheaded… is that normal?”
“It is.” Carefully, Luna offered a hoof. “With time, you will be able to project a larger image of yourself here. It will take some practice, but I think that you are quite capable of it.” She smiled as Twilight approached and climbed aboard. “Some new bit of magic artistry for you to perfect will be good for you, methinks.”
“Methinks? I thought you were working on that.”
“I am. I simply like the sound of it.” Luna hummed a quiet song, one beyond Twilight’s knowledge, and walked with her to the bed. Carefully, Twilight’s aetherial projection was deposited on the bedside table. Luna lay on the magnificent royal bed and sighed with what sounded to Twilight’s ears to be suspiciously close to contentment. It was good to hear.
“So… does this mean I can dreamwalk now?” Twilight asked, sitting down.
Luna looked at her curiously for a few seconds, and then her eyes widened. “Wait. I never thought you were interested in such a thing!”
“Well, I mean, I figured it wasn’t something I could really do. I never was able to find much on it…”
“No, no you are very capable of it,” Luna said quickly. “I… I had thought of asking you if you wished to learn, but did not want to bother you, and then it was a bit too late for such things.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind trying. Here and there. I’ll be a dedicated amateur,” Twilight said. “How is the homefront?”
“From my little outpost here they seem dire.”
“More than last time?”
“Not so much,” Luna replied, stretching. “Your young master dragon has been hard at work.”
“Good.” Twilight paused. She spoke slowly. “Luna, he is alright, isn’t he?”
“He is as safe as any of us. I swear to you this, that he is no mere pawn. He is my Companion, in the old sense.” Luna cracked a little smile. “Do you know of them? I once had brothers and sisters in arms, bound to me by love and bonds beyond magic. Spike is my hoof.”
“I worry about him,” Twilight admitted. “I just… I know he’s old enough to handle himself.”
“More than old enough. He is blooded now.”
“Blooded?”
Luna stopped. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then her words seemed to die. Twilight felt her heart sink.
“The barbarians at our gates attacked the town of Morningvale--”
“In the valley behind Canterlot, yes, I know.”
Luna coughed. “Yes. He… borrowed my personal air yacht and flew around the mountain to assist in the evacuation’s rear guard action. He fought very bravely, Twilight. Already among our soldiers he is something of a hero. They talk of him often.”
“He… he’s killed.”
“Yes.”
Twilight faltered. She felt her projection flicker and fade. “I… I don’t know…”
Luna scooted closer. “Twilight. Twilight, please. I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. I did not want to tell you, I knew this would hurt you. My time… it was different in my time. The world was dark and we needed to do such things.” Luna’s eyes were wide. She gestured frantically. “Twilight, he saved so many ponies. Innocent ponies, who did nothing worth dying. I’m sorry that I have led him down this path of--”
“Luna! Luna, please.” Twilight held up both front hooves, shaking her head. “Luna, it’s fine. I… it was just a shock.”
Luna looked miserable. “I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. I mean, it upsets me, but I don’t blame you. I understand. He’s a hero. He saved ponies. I myself have had to…”
“Hurt ponies.”
“Yes.”
“The warrior’s path is best walked by those who do not revel in the pain.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a warrior, Luna. I’m a librarian.”
Luna scoffed. “Twilight Sparkle of Canterlot, you are much more than a librarian.”
“Ponyville. Of Ponyville,” Twilight corrected softly. “Is he okay?”
Luna nodded, but with hesitation. “Yes. I think he will be fine. What bothered him more was the injury of one of his companions, one of my Lunar guards. I have made arrangements personally for her care, in hopes it will bring him some succor.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Twilight said flatly. She sighed.
They sat in silence for a moment. Luna’s features softened, and Twilight’s heart returned to its place, out from the grave.
“You know, I’m on an island now,” Twilight said. “Midway. It used to be called Maldon.”
Luna’s ears perked. “I cry your pardon. Maldon?”
Twilight nodded.
“I have not heard that name in some time. In fact, I do not believe I have heard it spoken since before I was banished. And you say you are there?”
Twilight nodded.
Luna edged even closer. “I have such memories of that place in the days of its glory. What is it like? What are the ponies of that place like? Is the hospitality of Maldon strained with time?”
“So far they’ve been friendly. A mother on the street invited me in for tea, actually.” Twilight hummed. “The city here is just ruins, but the ponies living here don’t seem that interested in rebuilding. They live in the ruins. They’ll fix up a house or old agora, but only when they need to live in or use it.”
Luna nodded, but did not seem to be satisfied. “And you have walked the city, then? Ancient now, but Maldon all the same.”
Twilight thought of the carved words. “Yes. It must have been grand, in its day.”
“It was. It was, Twilight,” Luna replied sotly. “I… Twilight, ma I ask of you a favor?”
“Favor? Sure,” Twilight said quickly.
“It… well. No, nevermind.” Luna smiled.
Twilight leaned in. “What was it? It’s alright, Luna. We’re friends. If I’m learning anything right now, it’s that I could be a much better friend.”
Luna smiled. “You were not such a bad one.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “You’re not convincing at all.”
“I suppose I am not. I wished to… well…” She faltered. Slipped. Some look flashed in her eyes which Twilight did not comprehend in its quick passing. “Twilight, I have missed Maldon as it was. As I remember it. I have missed so many things. In this war of ours I have missed a simpler time, when ‘war’ meant little more than myself, my sister, a few brave knights, and the joy of the quest.”
“You miss that?” Twilight asked. “But things were so much more dangerous.”
“Yes, but the were simpler. At least, I think they were. And that thought, Twilight, that thought! That I could be remembering all of those things wrongly… it is does not do one well to dwell on the unachievable. It is my sister’s absence that inflicts morbidity.”
Twilight’s ears drooped. “I miss her.”
“I miss her also. More than anything.”
“I promise you. I’m going to bring her back.” Twilight stomped her tiny astral hoof.
Luna’s smile was radiant. Twilight thought of the old Oratorium. She could almost smell the old books. “I know you will. I have the utmost faith in you, Twilight Sparkle. Of Ponyville,” she added.
“What did you want, though?”
“I wanted… to link. Take you with me into the dreaming and go back into your memories and mine. It is foolish. I know, I know. To ask you to allow such an intimate invasion for the mere whim of an old mare is laughable. In such times as these, I should not be caught up in my old remembrances.”
“Intimate? It doesn’t seem like such a huge invasion to me.” Twilight walked to the edge of the table. “I wouldn’t mind at all, so long as it’s safe. Let’s go. I’m curious to see old Maldon myself.”
Luna said nothing. She bit her lip. “It… it can be intense. You seem so blaise, but to share one’s heart is no light matter.”
“It’s not my heart. Just my memories. Besides, we are friends.” Twilight chuckled. “Even if it hasn’t felt like it a few times. Writing you now and then when I still had my library, working side by side during those months of panic, talking to you now in this way--I feel like we’ve grown really close. I wouldn’t mind opening up. I probably need to,” she added. “I’m starting to worry that I’ve undone everything.”
“Undone?”
“All the good I learned by going to Ponyville in the first place. I used to be so open and honest with my friends. We used to be so happy. Things in the world have changed, but I think that the change that came between us was less of a matter of external forces so much as of internal ones.”
“Ah.” Luna nodded. “We--forgive me. I do still slip from time to time. I understand.”
“I need to open up more. Be honest.” Twilight shook her head ruefully. “You know, me and Applejack realized today that we know almost nothing about Pinkie’s romantic life and preferences? I mean, it isn’t exactly our business, but to not know at all! There’s so many things I have left to learn. I’m starting to feel like I’m going to miss it all.”
“So… you would not mind sharing hearts for a night?”
“If that’s what you call it,” Twilight said.
“It is accurate. Or, mostly. Alright, then. We will go. It will be… strange. You will have ideas and feelings that are hard to read and there will be much of myself. Much of yourself mixed in, too. It is hard to explain. I would need to use another language.” Luna sat up. There was a strange look in her eyes, but she smiled. “You shame me. Perhaps showing you everything of that place will do me well. I, too, have been a locked garden for too long.”
And with that, Luna lay with her face close to the tiny spectral form of Twilight, her smile intact, and called upon her magic. It thrummed, and as she closed her eyes, Twilight felt as if she was falling, falling, falling, until she felt nothing but heard the sound of singing, and then the heat of the sun, and finally the wind rising.