Flight
I spread my wings, gathered myself, and leapt over the railing of the balcony into the darkness of my night. I fell for a fraction of a second, then my wings caught the air and I swooped upward, pumping to gain altitude. Though I suppose I should think of it as “we swooped upward,” for I had a passenger.
“Wheeeeeee!” The high-pitched shout of pleasure came from directly behind my head. I folded my ears down tight to shut it out, but felt certain that they would be ringing for a while.
I tilted my head to look back along my body at the little pink pony clinging to my withers, her back legs tucked just in front of my wing joint. Her smile was a blinding white crescent in the dark as she stared at Canterlot town below, its streetlights shimmering like fireflies in her eyes.
I climbed up through the starlight until Canterlot was a flickering candle in a vast velvet darkness. The only sound was the night wind murmuring past my ears. I stiffened my wings to glide in a long orbit, and turned my head to address my passenger.
“Pinkie Pie, just how did you discover that today was the day of my birth?” She had arrived at my chambers just after moonrise, a single candle burning atop the angel food cake in her hooves. She presented me with the cake—my favorite—and informed me of the happy occasion. The question had been gnawing at me since that moment: how could she have known, when even I had forgotten the date I had come into existence? And she did know, of that much I was certain. The idea that today was my birthday felt deeply correct, in a way that the official state celebration of Celestia’s and my birthday never had.
She pulled her gaze away from the ocean of stars swimming in the darkness above us, and met my eyes with a startling directness. There was no fear, no timidity, no caution in her gaze. She smiled and looked at me as an equal, as though she thought that this thank-you flight made her such. One part of me wanted to tip her off my back into the abyss for such impertinence, and I nearly did it. I refrained because a secret voice deep inside relished the thought of not being special, of being able to be simply Luna, even if only for a little while. Despite my shame at such thoughts, I felt a smile grow unbidden as she looked at me.
She answered, “Oh, it was easy! See, I just worked backwards, factoring in gravitational precession and the slowing effect of the tides on rotational velocity, and I arrived at the date when everything started. And I figure you and Princess Celestia started when everything started, so today’s your birthday!”
My smile was gone, replaced by an open-mouthed stare. With an effort, I collected myself. “You . . . worked backwards?”
“Yup!”
“But . . . that’s millions of years! Thousands of variables! How could you— why would you?”
She shrugged, casually dismissing a feat of astrophysics that had stumped the finest minds in Equestria for ten thousand years. “Sometimes I get bored in the library and I read a book while I’m waiting. I’ve read some stuff about astronononomy, and it’s pretty simple. I sure did go through a lot of paper, though.”
“Pretty simple. . .” I shook my head sharply, deciding to set that line of questioning aside for now. I would have the Royal Astronomer interview her later. “But again, why? Why do this remarkable thing, this feat, just to ‘throw me a party’?”
Her arms clutched tighter around my neck, and her smile stepped down from blinding to warm. “Because everypony deserves a birthday party, and you haven’t had one in so long.” Her voice grew quiet. “And because I know how much it hurts to be lonely.”
My wings twitched, spilling air and plunging us into a sudden fall. We dropped three hundred feet while I stared at her in shock and she stared right back, as calm as an immortal. At last I blinked, came back to myself, and arrested our fall into a glide. I thundered at her. “I—we are not lonely! How dare you presume—!”
Though her mane blew back under the force of my anger, she remained unperturbed. That same still, secret voice spoke up in the back of my mind, arguing that maybe there was something to what the pony had said. I scowled and turned my head forward, shutting my passenger out while I pumped my wings to regain my lost altitude.
The thought that a princess of the realm could experience such a base emotion as loneliness was ludicrous and offensive, as though I were a mere pony. But her words stung me . . . was I lonely? A thousand years in exile was the blink of an eye, but prior to my banishment I had reveled in the company of my subjects and my sister. Always my sister, the one fixed point in the constantly-shifting mortal world around me. But since the day of my freedom, I had been an outsider, my subjects wary of me and my sister grown accustomed to ruling alone. Celestia was perpetually busy, and as a result I had hardly seen her apart from our brief, stuffy dinners together. I missed her.
The stars wavered and smeared together, and the wind swept away the tears I had not known I was shedding. My passenger must have noticed, because she lay down flat against me and squeezed my neck tight. I spoke to the air without turning my head. “I apologize for my outburst, Pinkie Pie. My pride serves me poorly. I think you are right; I am lonely.” I tilted my head back to look at the lambent curve of the moon. “I shall not ask how you read my heart when I had hidden it even from myself. Instead, I shall only be grateful.” I lowered my head to nuzzle her cheek, which she raised to meet me. “Thank you.”
Her voice was warm and soft in my ear. “It’s my pleasure, Princess. I like making ponies happy.”
The warmth in her voice spread to my chest, and I drew back from her to look directly into her eyes. “I want to repay you in some way. I am happy to give you this flight as thanks for the party, but I have much more to thank you for. Name your boon, and you shall have it.”
She shook her head in gentle refusal, and her smile was bright and caring. “All I want is to make you happy. I wanted to show you that somepony cares, so you wouldn’t be lonely. You needed this flight, so I asked for it, and here we are.”
Again I found myself frozen in surprise, my wide eyes meeting her gentle blue ones. I had never met a pony like her. She saw to the core of me, even though we had hardly spoken before this evening. “Thank you.” I only realized I had spoken after I heard my voice. My mind churned, and I turned my attention to flying.
We flew. We flew until the scales began to fall away from my heart, until I realized it was true: somepony cared. I was not alone in the darkness. Then, I flew with a lightness of spirit I had not felt in a millennium, and her delight was unconcealed as I wheeled and soared. She hugged my neck all the while, and I felt her warmth flowing into me.
* * *
The rays of the rising sun threw luminous spears around the silhouette of the castle as I glided to a landing at last. On the balcony outside my chambers, Pinkie Pie scrambled off my back and stretched. I opened my mouth to speak, to put into words how much her gift had meant to me, but it was impossible, I had not the words to express my feelings.
As though she heard my silence, she turned around to watch and wait. A long moment passed as I stared at her. There had to be some way I could show her my thanks. Then, in a flash of insight, I saw her clearly, and the corners of my mouth lifted in a smile. I knew just the words to say. “Pinkie Pie, will you please invite me to your parties from now on?”
She squealed and leapt at me, throwing her arms around my neck for a hug. I didn’t feel lonely anymore.
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Author’s Note: The original version of this story was an entry for Thirty Minute Ponies fourth prompt, “Starshine and Candy”. The prompt was “Princess Luna takes Pinkie Pie on an “outing” to thank her for something.” Thanks to Kyronea for the prompt which inspired this story, and to RWL and Bombastic Bookman for editing assistance.