It was raining, a somewhat heavy Spring shower. It had been going on all day long. Considering the events of the day, though, it seemed appropriate, and it hadn’t slowed anything down.
The funeral had been a grand one, as was the Neigh Orleans way. The deceased, named Quartermoon, had been incredibly popular around town even leaving aside the fact that he was something of a national celebrity. His procession had called for all the stops to be pulled out – a long parade of his coffin from his daughter’s home on the old Marché Street to the family crypt at the l’Étrier Cemetary, fully accompanied by musicians playing slow, somber music through the streets as they went.
The music had changed once Quartermoon had been interred, as was the tradition. Laid to his final resting place within the family crypt, the beat had switched to one more lively and carefree, a cathartic cacophony of trombones, trumpets, bass, and singing and dancing as the ponies of the funeral danced to celebrate the long life that Quartermoon had finished, and the even longer one he was now journeying to. The party had extended all the way back to Marché Street, the celebration lasting for two hours before obligations finally drew away almost all the mourners, save those that lived in the house itself – and one other.
Moonsinger was aghast as Princess Luna’s horn glowed blue, lighting up some of the soiled plates and glasses and looking like she was seriously considering helping clean up. “Non, non, non,” the pregnant unicorn said quickly, her own pink effervescence reaching out and taking the plates and glasses from the Princess. “Ah’ll get that, majesté. You our guest, Ah don’ care who’s funeral was today…”
Luna wanted to object, but Moonsinger’s tone – especially delivered with the unique Lunesianan dialect – brooked no argument from even a Princess, so instead the she only nodded as she settled back down. “I really don’t mind,” she tried anyway.
“Certainement pas! La Princess washing dishes…” Moonsinger clucked and shook her head as she finished gathering everything up and headed off towards the kitchen.
Luna had, in disguise, been going to Quartermoon’s magic shows for very nearly all of the deceased earth pony’s career, fascinated by the ability of mere smoke and mirrors and sleight-of-hoof to perform such amazing feats of magic that could astound even an alicorn. When at his final show in Canterlot, he had collapsed on-stage, Luna had dropped the disguise and rushed him to the nearest hospital, but there was nothing she nor modern medical science or magic could do to save him. He had managed to linger for a week, long enough to bring his family up from Neigh Orleans and say his farewells, but that was all. When they had invited her to the funeral, Luna could not, would not have even dreamed of, refusing.
The alicorn closed her eyes. Quartermoon’s death hit her…hard, as did the death of any pony she grew to know personally. In her disguise as the red-maned, white-coated unicorn Moonbeam, she had spoken with Quartermoon many times, learned some of his magic tricks, even been his lover on occasion – nothing serious, but nothing meaningless, either. He was almost unsurprised to learn that Moonbeam and Princess Luna were the same pony; if anything, he was delighted to learn that the Princess herself had been such an avid fan, had attended so many of his shows. It added an extra touch of joy to his final days – not nearly as much as being able to say goodbye to his family, but enough.
Luna focused on that joy, on the knowledge that at the end of his life, Quartermoon had been happy, and that Luna had been able to contribute to that. It didn’t quell the pain in her heart, but it made it bearable. Today the pain was a great looming thing, but one day in the future the pain would be small, a tiny ache only, while the knowledge of the good life that Quartermoon had lived would last for the rest of eternity inside Luna’s mind and heart.
The alicorn forced herself to focus her attention back on Moonsinger, as the unicorn stowed the dishes in the sink and prepared to start washing them up. Mortal beings were not always so adept at dealing with death. After all, Moonsinger was Quartermoon’s daughter. She had just interred her father, left him – his body, anyway – lying in a cold crypt. All that he was, she would never see again, at least not in this life. And after thousands of years of interacting with mortal ponies, Luna could see all the signs of a mare in mourning still, despite the funeral, despite the catharsis of the music and the dancing and the party that had only just ended. The pain of today would be with her for some time yet, and Moonsinger wasn’t fully capable of taking a long view the way Luna was, knowing that the pain would pass in time. Right now, for Moonsinger, the pain was only something that could be ignored – but it was still there and seemed to her like it would never go away.
But, it wasn’t a pain that she hadn’t experienced before. Moonsinger’s mother had died decades ago – train crash, a terrible but also mercifully quick way to go – and her younger sister, Crescent Starshine, had been claimed by a rapid disease some ten years ago herself. Moonsinger had soldiered on through those deaths, and she would be able to move on from this death too, as long as she had help and support and something to keep living for.
She had that in spades, even leaving aside the somewhat swollen belly that indicated her pregnancy, about five months in. As Luna watched – discreetly – Moonsinger’s husband, a pegasus named Sky Shaper, came inside from where he had just been saying goodbye to the last of the guests. He spared a quick glance at Luna, but wasted little time in going over to his wife as she put the dishes into the sink, reaching out a wing and wrapping it tightly around Moonsinger’s barrel, somehow predicting the change of mood that was rapidly coming up on Moonsinger even before Luna could. Luna didn’t need her super-equine senses to know that Moonsinger found herself very suddenly fighting back tears as the reality of her father’s passing once again assaulted her psyche – and Luna also didn’t need her thousands of years of interacting with mortal ponies to know that it wasn’t her business to intrude on this moment between husband and wife. She turned her senses elsewhere, giving them privacy.
She found herself looking at a quartet of foals, a colt and three fillies, the colt and two of the fillies all within a year of the age of ten, while the youngest was about half that. They were sitting together, tired from the day’s activities, still trying to come to grips with the idea of mortality, the knowledge that they wouldn’t ever get to see their grandfather in this life again and that, some day, the same thing would happen to everyone that they ever knew – and to them.
The youngest, a pegasus named Night Echo, was taking it the best, coloring with crayons on a sheet of paper. She hadn’t moved on, but she just wasn’t yet psychologically capable of truly grasping what had happened. She would likely have intermittent bouts of confusion and terror over the next few days – especially when she was alone – and Luna made a mental note to make sure keep the worst of the nightmares she would otherwise endure at bay.
Of the older foals, the oldest, the colt earth pony Limelight, was handling it well, putting on a brave face for the fillies. It was all an act, but it was an act that, Luna knew, would gradually morph into a reality, as acts and brave faces tended to do.
The filly unicorn Sharp Minded was taking it the worst. She was fighting back tears, had been for nearly a week now, it seemed. She was getting better, would get better. That was what Limelight was helping with now, sitting next to his sister, barrel-to-barrel, laying his head over her neck as she sniffled and stuttered and tried to understand why her grandfather had to die, why anything had to die.
The last filly, however, was the focus of Luna’s attentions. Trixie Lulamoon – who was somewhere between Limelight and Sharp Minded in age – was sitting next to Night Echo, horn sparking pink on occasion as she helped the smaller filly with her drawing. Night Echo, Limelight, and Sharp Minded were siblings, but Trixie was actually their cousin – the only daughter of Crescent Starshine before she had died. Trixie had been raised by Moonsinger and Sky Shaper, and though they did not hide that she was adopted, they also didn’t treat her any differently from her cousins. She was well-loved, outgoing, enthusiastic, or she ordinarily was, anyway. Right now, though she smiled for her littlest cousin, her thoughts were largely turned inwards – and, towards the cutie mark on her flank, earned a week ago.
A crescent nebula full of stars, with a magic wand laid over it. It was not particularly special in appearance in general, but the talent it represented was unique: Magic, or more specifically, doing magic for others. Utilizing one’s gifts for the benefit or enjoyment of another. Reaching out and connecting with other ponies not for one’s own gratification, but in order to help them. The ‘how’ she went about doing it was entirely up to Trixie, of course – just as it had been up to Quartermoon. The cutie mark that adorned Trixie’s flank was identical in both form and meaning to her deceased grandfather’s. She had, in fact, earned it when putting on a magic show for him.
Luna couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Trixie knew her grandfather was dying, but didn’t quite understand what that meant. She had, in her young mind, likened it to going to sleep and never waking up. And whenever her grandfather visited, she had told Luna and the doctors, her grandfather had put on a small magic show for her and her cousins. Trixie wanted to do the same for him, before he went to sleep forever.
It hadn’t been much of a magic show – better than a pure amateur could have put on, but not precisely that of a foal prodigy, either. But it had been from the heart, a desperate act of a foal trying to rationalize and understand and cope with what was happening and pouring her heart and soul into trying to make sure her grandfather was happy. He had heckled her something fierce, calling out her every mistake, but had done so in a good-natured way. He’d told her that she had more talent than he’d had at the same age – whether or not that was true was completely irrelevant – and that he had enjoyed the show. Trixie hadn’t noticed the cutie mark that had appeared on her flank during it, but Quartermoon had, and had pointed it out to her. She had been at once elated and distraught at its appearance, thought that she was stealing it from him, but Quartermoon had shown her that his own mark was still where it had always been and all it meant was that it was now Trixie’s turn to go and amaze ponies – and that he was proud of her.
Trixie had left then, exhausted from her show and the day leading up to it, drifting to sleep in the waiting room of the hospital. Her grandfather had died not long thereafter. And Trixie had taken it…as best she could. But she was clearly thinking deep thoughts right now, far deeper than a foal her age should have been troubling herself with.
Luna shifted, moving from the couch where she had been sitting and settling down next to the foals on the floor. They all looked up at her approach, and she smiled reassuringly at them. “Are you all alright?” she asked gently as she fluttered her wings a few times, getting comfortable.
“Oui…Ah think so,” Limelight said, his voice breaking only a little. He ran a hoof over his little sister’s back. “Minded’ll be okay too, majesté. She only be cryin’ a little.”
Sharp Minded sniffled. “M…mo chagren, P-Princess…” she stuttered, looking down.
Luna shook her head. “There is nothing to be sorry for,” she insisted. Being a foal was so very confusing, she knew – the window where they were permitted to cry over anything was so small, a few years. After that, crying over something other than a big wound was often seen as an annoyance, something only for little foals. A pony wasn’t supposed to cry just because her mane was pulled or she wasn’t getting the new toy she wanted or over a bad grade in school. Sharp Minded was fighting back tears because she didn’t know whether or not she was allowed to cry, or for how long, over her grandfather being dead, and didn’t want to ask. It didn’t help that her own parents were fighting back tears constantly themselves, and Sharp Minded didn’t understand that it was because they were trying to be brave for their children, not because they weren’t supposed to cry.
“P…Princess Luna?” Trixie asked. “Ah…can Ah ask you a question, s’il vou plaîs?”
Luna nodded her head. “Anything.”
“You…you gone to every one a’ Grand-père’s magic shows, oui?”
“The ones in Canterlot, anyway. Yes, almost all of the ones there, and a few elsewhere in Equestria when I could make the time.”
“B…but never as…you. Quoi faire?”
Luna offered a small grin. “Your grandfather would have been very upset if I had,” she said. “At least early in his career. When your grandfather would fill entire auditoriums and halls with fans, he knew that it was because he was Quartermoon the Magnificent, the greatest magician to have ever lived.” High praise indeed, coming from an alicorn who had personally seen countless of them over the millennia. “If I ever came as the Princess, he would have wondered if the crowd at the theater was there because of who he was – or if it was simply because I was in the crowd, and ponies wanted to see something that the Princess herself was attending.”
She looked away, her smile fading. “Of course, later in his life, there was no such excuse. I…I had intended to go in person, as myself, one day. I thought I had more time…” she closed her eyes and shook her head, doing nothing to fight off the pain. At the same time, she remembered the look of surprise and awe on Quartermoon’s face, even through the considerable pain he had been in, when she had leaped on stage as Moonbeam, the unicorn that had been following him for most of his career – and had revealed her true identity, shedding her illusory disguise and calling for a doctor.
“Showoff,” he’d said.
Luna bit back a laugh, as she had then. Taking in a deep, slightly shuddering breath, she looked back to Trixie. “I’m…sorry, Trixie. I should have gone to one of your grandfather’s shows in person sooner.” Her smile returned, as she looked to Trixie’s flank. “Perhaps you will become a magician too. I’ll try not to make the same mistake.”
Trixie jumped a little, then looked back to her flank, her cutie mark. “Mais…Ah don’ know if Ah want to be un magicien…”
Sharp Minded, Limelight, and Night Echo all jumped at that. “Pas bon!” Limelight exclaimed. “Lulamoon, you have to!”
“Oui!” Sharp Minded said, rubbing the tears from her eyes. “You did a magic show for Grand-père. He say – s-said…” she stuttered at having to correct herself, “that you was as good as him! That you un naturel!”
“Devez! Devez! Devez!” Night Echo cried.
Trixie looked between the three of them. “Choooh!” she exclaimed. “Grand-père was the greatest magician ever! La Princesse dit! Ah don’ think Ah’ll ever be good as he…an’ Ah don’ want to be as good! Ah wan’ Grand-père to always be the best magicien! Toujours! An’ if Ah’m not gon’ give mah best, Ah don’ want to try at all!”
Luna was thankful that she spoke Prench fluently and was able to keep up with the broken pidgin of Prench and Equestrian that was Lunesianan. She considered interjecting, but elected not to. Trixie’s special talent of doing magic for others was unique, and Luna knew Trixie was, if not necessarily highly intelligent, then certainly attentive, observant, and adaptable. Couple this with a special talent of helping ponies with magic – with connecting to them – and Luna had begun to form a vague plan for Trixie, or a hope, really; a way for Trixie to help Equestria as a whole in the future.
Certain signs were beginning to point to Luna’s Night Court approaching a threshold, teetering on the edge of working for the good of the common pony, and working for the good of the Night Court. It wasn’t an intentional cycle of Luna’s – indeed, it was a cycle she fought against as much as possible – but try as she might, every few centuries the situation got bad enough that Luna had to step in with a much heavier hoof than she preferred and essentially do some spring cleaning, ejecting the nobles of the Court who were too corrupt and could not change and replacing them, often with uplifted commoners.
But it would have to be Trixie’s choice, not Luna’s. And it wasn’t a choice that Trixie should have to make today, not after interring her grandfather. So instead, Luna’s horn glowed, and she took up a piece of paper and a few crayons from Night Echo’s pile, distracting the cousins from their budding argument. “Now is not the time for thinking about the future,” she insisted, and smiled at the four of them, as her crayons began dancing across the paper. Not her usual medium, but Luna considered herself to be an adaptable artist. “Instead…do you have any stories about your grandfather? He was a friend of mine…as Moonbeam, but a friend nonetheless…but I’m afraid I don’t know too much about his life beyond his career as a magician. Certainly less than you four.”
The four foals looked between each other. At length, Sharp Minded spoke up. “W-well…he like trains,” she said. “Even after what happened to Grand-mère.”
“An’ he was a really good cook,” Limelight said. “Particulièrement his shrimp scampi…”
“Ah’m gon’ miss that…” Trixie said.
Luna smiled a little at the foal’s change of focus. In general, she did not approve of manipulation – but, for the moment, as she sat there drawing with the four of them, she helped the four of them focus on good times with their grandfather, pushing through the past week and aiding them in moving from one good memory to the next. And even though each was only a foal who had known Quartermoon for only a little while, there was no shortage of good memories to occupy them.
---
“You good with the foals, majesté,” Sky Shaper whispered as Luna helped him and Moonsinger carry the four foals to their room, after they had fallen asleep. “Vous seriez un magnifique mère.”
The comment stung, but Sky Shaper had no way of knowing why, and Luna had had a thousand years to almost come to terms with her failure in that regard. Besides, it wasn’t the first time that she’d been paid the compliment, and she took it for what it was with ease. “Thank you,” she said as the three reached the foals’ bedroom of the house. It wasn’t a very far journey, the house was quite small, especially considering that six ponies called it home – soon to be seven, a glance at Moonsinger’s belly reminded Luna.
(Actually, soon to be eight, but Moonsinger didn’t seem to realize she was carrying twins, and Luna could tell the two were developing quite healthily and with no risk to Moonsinger, so she resolved to leave that as a surprise for the family).
Luna didn’t know why they chose to live in so small a house. Sky Shaper was a deputy weather manager for Neigh Orleans; not an extraordinarily well-paying job, but his salary alone would put the family somewhere firmly in the middle class income strata even with the expenses for the foals, never mind his wife’s own income as a set designer for local plays. Luna could only assume that there was some sort of family tradition of living in this home that kept them there, and it wasn’t her place to intrude on the matter anyway.
Luna let Sky Shaper and Moonsinger tuck in their foals, stepping outside to give them space to do so. Once that was done, the three adults went back downstairs. “Majesté,” Moonsinger said, “thank you, merci beaucoup, for comin’, an’…an’ for bein’ there for mon père.”
Luna smiled sadly. “I wish there was something I could have done,” she said. “I can move the moon and the stars, level mountains, create forests apropos nothing, even occasionally balance the national budget,” the two ponies laughed at that, appreciating the humor even on a black day like this, “but some things are beyond my power.”
Moonsinger nodded a little. She hadn’t asked, but Luna knew that Moonsinger had wanted Luna to do something, to utilize the vast magical power she had to fix her father, bring him back from the other side of death’s door, as ponies so often believed that she was capable of doing. But Luna wasn’t omnipotent, or anything like it. She had no dominion over the dead, and did not wish for it, having seen the costs that needed to be paid to acquire even the barest modicum of it. Grogar…Tambelon…
But that was an old memory, even for her. She shook her head and smiled. “Your father had a good life, spent in the service of others, after a fashion, but never wanting for anything himself. He will be missed, and never forgotten. I promise you that.”
It was a promise she could make that few others could, and Moonsinger recognized it for what it was. “Merci. It…it’s been a pleasure, majesté. If you ever find yousself in Neigh Orleans again…”
Luna debated internally for a moment. She wanted to give the family more time to grieve, but…death tended to remind Luna that there was no time like the present. “I…actually have something I wish to discuss with you,” she said delicately. The two looked confused – what could the princess of the land what to discuss with two lowly commoners? “Not now – it is late, and you are still in mourning. Perhaps Tuesday, next week?”
“Oui, majesté,” Sky Shaper agreed.
Luna nodded her head once. “It was an honor to know Quartermoon, and a pleasure to meet you and your family,” she said. “I’ll see you soon, Madame Moonsinger, Monsieur Sky Shaper. Bonsoir.”