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Entry Forty-Seven

November 3, 1000 ANM

Today was a pleasing time for me. I was wandering the gardens, enjoying the brisk air and the sensation of autumn’s grasp beginning to slip from its cliff of time. Its grip shakes, and pebbles nearby rattle at the desperate force. It gazes up for help, any help, but only winter’s unsympathetic visage meets its eyes. Winter’s eyes light up with cruel mirth, and it stomps on autumn’s hooves in unstoppable glee. Surely the drizzle that slicks the grass is the tears that fall from autumn’s agonized face.

Where was I? Yes, the gardens. I strode through the maze with the utmost confidence, never faltering when I came upon a dead end. I found dead ends quite often, but that is no matter. Is a maze not a type of game? And is it not wisdom to lose oneself in losing?

I had paused a moment near some piece of pottery or other, basking in the clouds that streaked across the sky in a futile effort to disrupt the sunlight, when young voices caught my ear. In curiosity, I made to meet up with them, but in my haste I quite forgot that there was a large hedge in my way. Thus, I was occupied with extracting myself with as little damage to the hedge as possible, which is almost as difficult as it sounds.

Once I was free, I spread my wings and took to the sky, bypassing the twists and turns of my afternoons to catch the students. For students they were: fillies and colts chattered to each other as they made their way between statues, though three of them were bickering softly amongst each other. By “three of them,” of course, I refer to fillies, as the statues remained as lifeless and immobile as they always did. To assume otherwise would be ludicrous.

“Ponies!” I exclaimed, touching upon the ground with a thundering of wings. “Behold your princess of the night! In addition, behold her knowledge that you are those foals of Ponyville, which I graced not long ago in my unending benevolence.”

An earth pony looked confused. “What’s benevolence, Sweetie?”

“Don’t push it, Apple Bloom.”

“Princess!” A mare rushed forward, sinking into a bow so low that she nearly vanished into the earth. “I’m sorry, my students have never met royalty before. And neither have I, but it is an honor to meet you.”

“And who would you be?”

“My name is Cheerilee, princess.”

“It certainly is.”

A voice cut in. “Cheerilee, where are you … oh!” A familiar unicorn came into view from the midst of some other statues, with a grumpy foal lagging behind. The unicorn nearly skipped up to meet us, and she dipped into some sort of curtsy. “Good afternoon, Princess Luna.”

“The same to you. You are Rarity, correct?”

“Yes.” She grinned awkwardly. “I apologize for not being able to meet you on Nightmare Night, Your Highness. My schedule had quite gotten away from me. Please know that if it hadn’t been urgent, I would’ve been the first to greet you upon your arrival.”

“Kindly refrain from troubling yourself,” I said, patting her shoulder. She trembled for some reason, but I thought nothing of it. “Your plight was understandable, so I reacted accordingly. And please, call me Luna. How goes life in Ponyville?”

“Oh, it’s just marvelous,” she gushed. “It’s a little out of the way, but business never fails. Not to mention that my dear friends live there as well! Really, we have you to thank for that. If you’d never returned … that is, if Nightmare Moon never returned … we’d still be strangers to each other.”

“I accept your thanks, and return them with my own. Yours was not the only union that occurred on the morn of the summer sun.”

“How are you doing, by the way? Your mane looks marvelous.”

“Naturally. I am doing as well as can be expected. Minor issues with sloths and nightmares aside, not to mention the nitroglycerin.”

She didn’t bat an eye. “You and my sister would get along fabulously.”

“Hey!” A unicorn filly leaned forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sweetie Belle, behave!” Cheerilee let out a strained laugh. “You’ll have to excuse them, Your Highness. They aren’t used to encounters like this.” As she gave her charges a pointed look, her teeth ground together in something resembling a grin. “They will behave, don’t worry. Right, boys and girls?”

“Yeah,” they chorused dully. It appeared that they had gotten used to my presence already. I did not know how I should feel about this realization.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Rarity assured her companion.

“Not necessarily! This is the princess we’re talking about. One false move, and … well … this is the princess we’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” said a pink earth pony filly, sticking up her nose. “She’s pretty much the best, what with her giant cutie mark and all.”

What gall! To insult her princess without so much as batting an eye! To my barely constrained rage, Cheerilee ignored the filly’s remark entirely. Who did these reddish ponies believe they were? Shall the color pink be the death of me in the end? Perhaps; yet even Mi Amore Cadenza is preferable despite her quirks.

“Oh dear, look at the time!” Rarity’s eye twitched as she pointed at something undefinable in the distance. “We haven’t much time before the train to Ponyville arrives! We’d better get everypony home, right, Cheerilee?”

“Of course! Right this way, everypony.”

The foals and their chaperones walked off in a shifting crowd. Rarity spared me an apologetic look as they left, and I provided her with a nod in return. I really must draw her into a more proper conversation someday.

Over supper, I was sure to discuss the matter with Sister Dearest. She listened and nodded at all the right times, drawing up her mouth a little as I related the unignorable insult.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” she said once I had finished. “The field trip completely slipped my mind. Had I remembered it was today, I would have spoken with her teacher myself.”

“It is well that you did not,” I said. “She has a terrible voice. At the least, I was privileged to meet with Rarity for the first time since my liberation.”

“I'm glad to hear it. Still, it was unkind of that filly to disrespect your rump in such a way.” She took a sip from her glass. “Isn’t she at an age that’s outgrown such things?”

“Apparently not,” I huffed. “But it is in the past. It matters not.”

So I would convince myself. Yet the sneer on the filly’s face still looms in my mind’s eye, and I wonder at my ability to interact with the common pony. Was their welcoming behavior on Nightmare Night merely confined to that single event? I cannot reconcile such actions with one another.

At the least, I can find assurance in knowing that this will be the extent of my woes. What worse have I endured than some well-deserved angst for me to wallow in? All shall be well, and none shall trouble me further.

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